|
A half-elf garbed in new adventuring gear, or fresh oil on his weapons, stands waiting for the briefing.
"I am Omar Posada, Skald and Society initiate reporting.
I was sent by VC Hugo to this mission.
Omar nods in greeting before continuing.
"I originally lived in the deserts of Osirion. However I grew bored and started to travel, eventually ending up in Lamasara, Thuvia. I heard Lamasara was famous for its performers and artisans.
"There is always music in the air, although the most well-known of its artists usually perform in whichever city is currently hosting the sun orchid elixir."
He leans his naginata in the corner and inspects his lute while waiting for others to arrive.
|
Roused from sleep by a load thumping at your door, a scarred voice calls you by name, then knocks once more. "Venture-Captain Heidmarch. . . requests your . . . presence downstairs at once." Clearly it's an initiate into the Pathfinder Society, and likely fearful that you might "shoot the messenger" at the late hour, or more likely, this early hour.
You manage to respond, something along the lines of "Five more minutes", but the initiate's cracking voice telling you to wake up does the trick, and you know you are up. Gathering your cloths and gear, and possibly informing any company your bed might still hold of the need to make their way home, you go downstairs. The Venture-Captain is not present, but instead a small group of Half-Orcs that look like they know how to handle themselves ushers you, and a few others you note, towards the front door. "Questions later. We gotta move." Outside, in the cold, pouring rain, I might add, you see a covered wagon, with a few other Pathfinders crawling in the back. The Half-Orc, once you are all inside, tosses you a letter. "Sheila Heidmarch said to give you this on the way to yur ship."
The sealed letter, a note from Venture-Captain Sheila Heidmarch, and bearing her unbroken family seal informs the group that a Society-funded dig team has uncovered a totally intact temple that appears to be associated with the goddess Lissala, buried for 10,000 years. Given the fresh revelations that this long-thought-dead cult is thriving and allied with the Aspis Consortium, it’s a truly wonderful find, providing an unprecedented opportunity to gain knowledge of this forgotten faith.
the advent of Earthfall 10,000 years ago. It was ruled over by seven runelords, extremely powerful wizards who employed Thassilonian sin magic. Bakrakhan was the province of Alaznist, Runelord of Wrath, and Xin- Bakrakhan was her capital city.
=====
|
|
Omar ponders a bit.
Reciting parts of history from an old poem he recalled.
Thassilon was the ancient empire that encompassed all of modern Varisia and beyond. It fell into ruin at
the advent of Earthfall 10,000 years ago.
It was ruled over by seven runelords, extremely powerful wizards who employed Thassilonian sin magic.
Bakrakhan was the province of Alaznist, Runelord of Wrath, and Xin- Bakrakhan was her capital city.
Of Lissila, I know naught but maybe the name.
|
Another half-orc arrives at the wagon. He is tall, and despite his size, he always try to pass unnoticed, maybe for self protection.
He no longer has hair, and shows many scars through his entire body. His outfit have a hood, that is always used over his head, and he carries a big amount of junk with him.
"Hi, I'm Tûrak. I recieved the call. What's up?", he nods to everyone in the wagon.
After becoming aware of why they were there, he asks the novice: "so I suppose our exploration has something to do with this Alaznist, right?
|
Piety follows the summoning. "Good morning." he says but does not look for eye contact. "Hollow Mountain broods over the ruins of Xin-Bakrakhan. It is thought to hide endless subterranean spaces filled with wealth and danger. Some believe Alaznist herself is hidden within its unplumbed depths. Sounds a bit dangerous if you ask me."
After thinking a bit he continues. "Lissala was the goddess of fate, runes, and reward of service, and was especially prominent in Thassilon. While a much more disciplined faith in the early days of the empire, her worship grew more reckless and decadent in Thassilon’s waning years. Veneration of the deity was thought to have died with Thassilon itself."
|
|
Rolling and groaning at such a rude awakening, the lithe Varisian rolls casually out of bed and wipes himself down with a towel taken handily from the Venture-captain's pile before selecting a brand new flowing silk outfit and donning it. Taking a moment of silence before opening the door, he calls upon his mystical bond with the Lady of Graves to bring one of her servants to his side.
"Good morning Big Man" Zandu says with a wid yawn, making his way to the docks in the rain, a sigh from his lips as he realises his outfit will be ruined.
Zandu is tall and bronze skinned, with the traditional flowing clothes of a Varisian wanderer. A small mask adorns his bright blue eyes and he smiles at the fellow Pathfinders assembled.
"Greetings and salutations fine fellows! I am Zandu, Storyteller of some renown within teh vicinity. This here is The Big Man, he is on our side I assure you."
Reading the note, he ponders what he knows.
"Never heard of her, must not be many stories about her."
|
|
Following the boisterous Varisian story teller is the tall, looming figure of a Psychopomp, swathed in a dark brown robe, with the hood pulled up. From the bottom of the robe two taloned feet can be seen and strong fists poke out of the sleeves.
At Zandu's introduction, Ogmios's eyes flash red in irritation as he intones a reply.
"My name is Ogmios, a pleasure to meet you before your time."
|
|
Zandu's grin matches the Skald's own as he turns to him, he gives the man a playful wink and brushes his damp fringe from his masked visage and shakes the Society banner held in his left hand.
"Certainly! A drink and new tales is one of life's great pleasures I always believe. Rain however, is surely not one of them."
|
|
I do not know how much history we want to cover, as we may start our briefing soon and be interrupted. My personal history on joining the Society was influenced by a Venture-Captain that found me down in Thuvia and offered me a researching job. How about the rest of you?
Omar listens intently for the others tales of how they joined.
|
|
Zandu ponders Turak's question for a moment, tapping his finger on his bottom lip before shrugging elegantly. He nods to Omar as he speaks, as if agreeing with the Skald.
"Very true, the names given seem to have featured little in my tales and research I'm afraid. Well, when and if our illustrious leader shows up we shall know more."
He ponders the rest of Omar's question for a moment and smiles.
"Why I joined? Simply, I joined the Society to travel and get material for my greatest works. Exotic places and people aplenty interact with us Pathfinders every day, from all walks of life yes? Just could do without the weather!"
|
|
"I was the living experiment of a mad alchemist in Cheliax. One day I managed to escape and I took some belongings of him with me. I spent much of my life breaking crypts and vaults, where others thought were inviolable, not that I'm proud of that... On one of these explorations in the Cairnlands, I found and rescued a human called Balenar Forsend, a member of the Society, who invited me to be part of it. Since then, years have passed and I have done many missions on behalf of the Society, specially in Tian Xia, and this is a thing that I must be proud."
The half-orc stays mute for a few seconds, while looking at nothing.
|
The Ulfen paladin listens to the half-orcs story and nods his head slowly. "I am glad to see that you have found a better path for this life, Tûrak Kavendarth. Iomedae accepts those that repent and reform their hearts." He looks at his fellow Pathfinders and smiles broadly.
"I was born in the North and saw the harsh realities of war up close. One day, a priest of Iomedae came through our town on a mission for the Society. I watched in amazement at the powers of healing he provided for several of our people injured from battle and strife. He told me stories about Iomedae as a mortal when she led the Knights of Ozem in their victory over the Whispering Tyrant and about her success at the Test of the Starstone and ascension to immortality. I vowed, from that day forward, to emulate her crusade as a champion of merciful justice over evil. I took it upon myself to join the Society and the Silver Crusade. One day, I hope to prove myself worthy to stand before the Inheritor upon my death and receive her judgement."
|
|
Balomar bows head in deference to Tûrak, "My first assignment with the Society was... how do you say?... being 'thrown to the wolves'? I was sent to Oppara to aid Venture-Captain Muesello. Through a series of events the noble house of Dalsine was damaged, and we were nearly defeated by the Shadow Lodge. I have my fellow Pathfinders to thank for leading me safely home that day."
|
|
Looking like she has finally woken up after being dragged out of bed, an elf in a plain dress and knee-length silvery hair speaks.
"Yes, I can verify what you have said, Tiefling. It is written in many respected texts."
"I am not a student of Religion, however, so we must trust you on that score."
She scribbles down what Piety said of Lissala in strange shorthand. Later, perhaps there will be enough information to add a chapter into her own book...
|
|
Zandu smiles at the late speaker to their group probably not a morning person he thinks to himself as they wait for their mission briefing in the pouring rain, the Bars looks longingly at his Paychopomp companions' heavy robes, to which he is greeted with a punishing stare.
Shuddering despite himself Zandu speaks to the Elf, smile widening as he does so, "well met! We were just passing the time by getting to know one another, who are you and why did you join the illuatrious society fair lady?"
|
|
The rain begins to stop as you continue to travel, though the canvas covering the wagon you ride in is still drenched, dripping water from pools as you make turns on the way. You soon begin to small the salt from the sea, and even at this early our begin to hear, in the distance, dock workers loading and unloading cargo in preparation for the day.
The rider at the front of the wagon calls out, "We almost there. Small change o' plans, so get yurselves ready. If you need supplies, I'll make a fast stop. You got five minutes before you board the Winking Wyvern for . . ." You can't hear that last part as the wind picks up, or perhaps he purposefully speaks too low to be understood.
Turning the note over, you see there is more:
"Even if the site turns out to not be dedicated to Lissala, learning more about the faiths and practices of ancient Thassilon always provides an abundance of knowledge. Often the items they use in their rituals lead to clues about the cults. By now the work crew has finished clearing the site—the time to explore its secrets is at hand. The Society has no exclusive contract to the site, and Aspis Consortium agents scour the countryside seeking such ripe targets, so time is of the essence. Archaeologists Halla Beusophis and Kovo Murse can answer questions when the group arrives, and a fellow Pathfinder ranger, Riemme Batelle, is already on the island, ready to join in this exciting endeavor."
Sheila Heidmarch has given the party a charge: eliminate the ancient temple’s dangers so that Society scholars can study the ruins safely, and bring back whatever knowledge lies within.
Once you have had a brief, a very brief chance to pick up a few supplies you may wish before leaving the mainland for perils untold, you are all ushered onto a ship called the Winking Wyvern, an oddly named ship, but otherwise not terribly remarkable. The sea journey is uneventful, and the sloop’s crew gives the Pathfinders a wide berth, partially out of respect, partially out of superstitious dread at the destination. Only the captain, Haerla Skolet, is open to speaking with them, though she knows little of the area or you mission.
The harbor closest to the Xin-Bakrakhan dig silted over hundreds of years ago, so the Winking Wyvern drops anchor and sends the party ashore in a pair of launches. Greeting them are a half-dozen bedraggled souls living in rugged tents sufficient for four times their number.
They're led by a grim-looking woman in work clothes, with signs of emotional strain and fatigue lining her face. She introduces herself as , lead archaeologist on the temple dig. “Thank goodness you’ve arrived,” begins the careworn Pathfinder. “Two days ago workers at the dig site were attacked, by what or whom I don’t know. I was here at camp when it happened. Only a single worker escaped, Shadaq, who crawled back here, bleeding from a dozen terrible injuries. The wounds were mortal and none of us here possessed the skill to aid him. Before he died we got little information. He told us of the attack, said everyone had been, ‘gutted like game birds.’ His last words, as his eyes violently rolled back in his head, were ‘Lissala is angry, but so am I’."
“The six of us are all that’s left. Myself and these five hired excavators. They’ve refused to go back to the site and I didn’t dare go alone. We’ve been huddled in these damned tents since Wealday, waiting for your arrival. I’ll take you to the dig myself, but I don’t know what we’ll find. If Shadaq’s words are true, it won’t be pretty. Only the gods know whether those same attackers lie in wait.”
|
|
Zandu greets the news with a resigned sadness and bows his head a moment, when it comes back up his eyes are full of determination at the mystery to be uncovered. He moves to the lead archaeologist and offers his hand for the lady to shake.
"Such sour news indeed, permit me two questions if I may, was Kuvo at the site at the time and where is our fellow agent, Riemme? We will of course accompany you to learn more for that is our bread and butter, adventure and danger go hand in hand in this world."
Zandu will eait for his comrades to gather information, before setting off towards the dig.
|
|
Tûrak spends most of the trip in silence, just watching his colleagues more talkers interact. He was limited to answering simple things that somebody could ask him.
"I'll consider this as a 'welcome', ms. Halla", the half-orc told to the anxious archaeologist.
"And where is Kovo Murse? And Riemme Batelle?", he asks Halla.
|
|
Balomar greets Halla with a low bow and a saddened look. I wish we had arrived sooner, perhaps this tragedy may have been avoided. Hearing his felloow Pathfinders address the whereabouts of Kovo and Riemme, Balomar inquiries about the deceased, "Has Shadaq had a proper burial? If not, perhaps I can help there... then we shall attend to the horrors at your dig site."
|
|
Kaylee drinks in her surroundings as Halla speaks, though she does keep a sombre face. She waits for the responses to the others' questions before asking her own.
If Shadaq has been buried:
If not:
|
|
"Such sour news indeed, permit me two questions if I may, was Kuvo at the site at the time and where is our fellow agent, Riemme?"
"And where is Kovo Murse? And Riemme Batelle?", he asks Halla.
“Both were at the dig site when the attack occurred. According to Shadaq they must be dead, or holed up somewhere in the ruins. Riemme is, or was an accomplished ranger, gifted with bow and blade. He’s affable enough, but has an air of mystery about him. His head is shaved, and tattooed on his pate is an elaborate rose. I asked him about it once, but he only smiled and shook his head. I understand his nickname in some circles is ‘the Bloom.’”
She seems to be sincere in her response, though she doesn't know for certain, her sorrow at the probable death is genuine.
"Has Shadaq had a proper burial? If not, perhaps I can help there... then we shall attend to the horrors at your dig site."
"Sadly, we only had the resources to bury Shadaq in a shallow grave. It's all we could manage, though if you wish, I could take you there and it could be exhumed, should you require. But, I think Shadaq, not to mention". . . she motions with a hand towards the terrified laborers hiding in their rugged tents, ". . . it might help to boost their morale."
she does take you not too far from the small "tent city" to a small newly created grave formed mainly from hand-sized rocks covering the body to keep animals away, and a single wooden sign that reads "Shadaq". She calls one of her assistants to help unearth the body, which matches her story that he was killed by multiple wounds.
|
|
Zandu smiles, full of self confidence, hoping to instill some of this upon the poor workers that remained after the horrifying massacre. The banner of the Society, embroidered with the glyph of the open road flutters from the banner pole held in his hands.
"We face untold horrors every day, but we strive to protect this world from those that would do it harm. Your courage is commendable my friends and my comrades and I will certainly route out this evil and remove its taint from the soil."
Not choosing to follow his fellows to the grisly task of exhuming the poor Shadaq, Zandu waits and continues to attempt to bolster the spirits of the survivors, sharing out water if it is needed.
|
|
"Bladed weapons implies a wielder; a conscious entity that willed for the death of this man. Not just some beast defending its territory. We should be careful."
"That said, this attack could be meant to keep us away. Are we all prepared to go exploring straight away? I'd hate to give this thing - whatever we're fighting - another chance to kill."
|
|
The extensive ruins of the ancient city begin a mere stone’s throw from the shore, but the dig site itself is a 2-mile trek. Halla accompanies the group to the temple site, and it’s an uneventful trip. Hulking mounds of the long-dead city are all around and the presence of Hollow Mountain and Alaznist‘s hateful visage glower high above.
The area surrounding the temple, littered with rocks, loose soil, and bits of excavation debris, make reaching the site slow and tricky. The walls of the temple are 2 feet thick unless otherwise noted, and imbued with protective abjuration magic, a clue to the building’s unnatural
preservation.
This breathtaking edifice is constructed of tightly fitted blocks of brown stone covered with intricate engravings depicting humans engaged in acts of terrible self-mutilation. A pillared portico girds the eastern front of the great temple, the carved columns resemble fat, coiled serpents. The structure stands about 20 feet tall, though a great dome rises out of the center another 20 feet. How this place could be more than 10,000 years old defies logic—some sorcery must have preserved the stone.
The stench of blood is the only greeting upon arrival at the excavated temple. Before an imposing stone structure lie a few stripped and eviscerated bodies bearing terrible wounds that go far beyond the marks of battle in their viciousness, and furrows in the fresh dirt indicating that others have been dragged inside. Halla covers her mouth to stifle a cry, then rushes to the side of one of the bodies, falling to her knees. “Kovo! Oh, Kovo, look how they butchered you!”
Even from a short distance you can see that the bodies bear the same marks as the one you just examined, though that doesn't mean that there might not be more clues on a closer examination. . .
After a few moments of mourning over her colleague’s battered and bloody body, Halla rallies and aids in examining the gruesome scene. She reports that others are missing: Pathfinder Riemme Batelle, two dig workers named Pel and Saala, and four laborers. A check of the surrounding area doesn’t turn them up, though PCs find a masterwork longsword coated with dried blood, a half-full quiver of arrows, and a broken longbow, Halla identifies them as belonging to Riemme.
|
|
Balomar comes along side Halla and rests a comforting hand upon her shoulder. "I am sure that Kovo was a fine friend of yours. I shall pray that he finds peace in death and that the gods have mercy upon his soul."
After Halla identifies the bodies and Riemme's possessions, Balomar turns to the Pathfinders, "These bodies bear the same marks as the one examined back at their camp."
"I believe we should bring Riemme's weapons with us. If we find him alive, we may need him to fight at our sides. Who can carry our fallen comrade's gear?"
|
|
Zandu examines the ruin with interest, concurring with his allies about the overall strangeness of the place. He leaves examining the grisly remains of their fellows to the others as he cleans the longsword and passes it to Ogmios, to sheathes it with a look of puzzlement.
"May the Lady of Graves guide our fallen friends to their rightful afterlife and may they there find their heart's desire" The storyteller utters poetically.
Once everyone is ready, he hangs back with the banner, allowing the others to step in ahead of him.