Let's head back then. No sense getting caught here after the sun sets." Briar takes out a rag and wipes off the gore from Mareth.
Charles nods.
"Agreed. We should be cautious, whilst we are still not comfortable with the lay of the land; their are just too many unknowns, at present. We can have a fresh crack at the one that ran away (and any others that might be around) tomorrow."
After a quick reconnaissance of the ruined theater reveals nothing of interest, the party takes Luntz' advice and heads back towards the harbor. You're approaching the dock district, about half a mile from the docks proper, when Luntz' eagle gives a screaming cry from above. The lighthouse keeper looks up in alarm. "Oh, Ambrosius, that's not what I wanted t' hear from ye. That's his 'watch out, summat's coming!' call, and--" He shades his eyes and looks to where Ambrosius is circling. "--whatever that summat is, looks ta be a bit behind us yet. Best we be movin' sharpish, reet?"
Briar nods and steps up the pace, attempting to work his way to the docks quickly, keeping an open eye for possible dangers along the way.
Charles nods, and increases his pace.
Although whatever is following you is moving faster than you are, you get lucky on a couple of detours and easily make it to the dock without being caught. Unfortunately for Darc, the tide is coming in, and the party is going to have to return to the lighthouse by boat.
You're about fifty feet from shore when the akata that's been pursuing you emerges from an alley. There appears to be only one so far, but it's about twice the size of the others you've faced--on the order of six feet at the shoulder, and eight feet long. It paces back and forth at the edge of the quay, its glowing spots flickering almost too quickly for you to see in the daylight. Luntz is dumbfounded. "I didn't know th' things came that big...at low tide, it maybe could jump th' gap an' reach th' light...."
Briar, Charles, and Darc all notice that in addition to its size, this one differs from the others in that it appears to have something shiny and reflective around its neck, although its tentacular mane makes picking out details difficult.
Yeronimous braces his shield again anp positions himself in the front of the group, after casting defensive shock.
"Will the tide be low tonight?" Briar asks as he looks over the beasty, keeping Mareth in a ready-to-stab position.
"Be a couple o' nights before there's a low after dark."
Then we should be good to find it tomorrow.
"Lets go back and remove this one's life and make the shore safe, quick back to land." a slightly quivering Darc announces, seeing his chance to get out of the dinghy at the first opportunity.
Luntz ships the oars and leans back. "When y' have figured out where yer wantin' t' go, just let me know."
"No reason to force the issue, and we don't know if the big one brought friends."
Bending his back to the oars, Luntz says, "Prob'ly wisest."
The old druid rows you back to the light. The large akata pursues, following along the breakwater; as it does so, it's joined by two more of the normal-sized creatures.
As the party disembarks, all eyes are on the large akata, so it's obvious when something interesting happens to it. It's been flashing intermittently and the other two have been flashing back patterns that look like duplicates of what the large one had been doing. Suddenly it tenses up and stops flashing for a moment. When it flashes again, the patterns are noticeably less complex. It turns and runs back towards the ruined city.
"Hmmm... We should probably track that down tomorrow... I do not like the idea of leaving it running loose..."
sorry, I didn't realize
Are you sure it isn't better to track it right now, Charles? This night, that thing could come for an unespected and certainly unwelcomed visit.
Darc looks darkly at Yeronimous, "Here now, dry land. I not move off." Then he looks back at the shore, watching for any further activity. "No surprise tonight."
After a few minutes, the other two akata follow the largest one (albeit at a slower pace). At Darc's statement, Besmarial says, "I do not need to sleep, so I shall keep watch tonight."
At some point Luntz whistles to Ambrosius, and over the next half-hour the eagle catches several fish and drops them on the breakwater near the light.
Unless anyone does anything, the night passes uneventfully. There are far fewer akata out wandering the city, as far as you can tell, and there is no sign of the large one.
Briar takes a moment before falling asleep to talk to Luntz. "You mentioned harpooning an Akata and pulling them into the water, but you never mentioned why they don't swim out after us."
"Sea water's like salt on a slug to th' things, or like acid--shrivels 'em up an' eats 'em away quick."
I almost forgot--that evening, Briar needs to make another FORT save vs. DC 12.
The next morning, low tide is a bit later than it was your first day exploring the city, so if you want to get going as early you'll either have to take the dinghy (sorry, Darc) or do a bit of swimming/wading across slippery rocks. Luntz wants to stop off at his rooftop gardens to collect some vegetables; apart from that, where are you going to go?
Charles, you're able to identify the tracks of the larger akata on the dock area, and you figure you have a reasonable chance to follow them.
Darc gingerly gets into the dinghy, "Lets be after that big one. Anyone got any spare water containers. If this sea water is as potent as Lunz suggests, we should arm ourselves and carry some sea water with us."
With Luntz' assistance, you're able to come up with a half-dozen empty bottles from various dockside establishments and fill them with sea water before heading inland.
Spending a bit of time searching the ruined dockside establishments, you're able to find a half-dozen intact bottles, which you fill with sea water before heading inland. The weather is not very pleasant, with a stiff onshore wind carrying the ocean's moisture and the scent of the tidal flats with you as you proceed.
Charles follows along with the rest of the party, one hand on his mutagen flask, keeping a wary eye out for any evidence of more of the tentacle beasts...
"Hopefully, we will not need too many more sorties to exterminate the 'problem' here..."
Darc seeing the tracks of the large says, "Follow these." He starts off in the direction of the tracks.
ETA: Ninja'd by Darc! See above; your host needed to gather food before you follow the tracks.
Luntz leads you inland via a different route from the one you took yesterday, ending at a set of buildings in rather better shape than most. He pauses to cast a spell and nods to himself. "Building's clean." Then he leads you up to the roof of one of the buildings, where you find an extensive garden made up of a number of pots and planters, with a clever rain-capture irrigation system. He gathers up various fruits and vegetables into a couple of sacks, muttering to himself all the while, and finishes up by casting a brief spell at each of the planters.
While Luntz is tending to things, I'll assume you take the opportunity to look around from your higher vantage point. You're about three miles SSW of the place the akata fled to. As you're looking around, Charles hears movement from the street below, and a voice speaking in oddly-accented Aklo.
"There is somebody speaking in Aklo out on the street; apparently, they hate travelling by day, and they have heard us..."
"No understand, is danger?" the large half orc asks the well dressed human, whilst reading himself to defend or attack.
Peering over the edge of the building, you see three figures darting for cover. One appears to be an armored human, and the other two look like large wolves. There's something off about them, but it's hard to tell exactly what from where you are.
With that, we will temporarily leave our first band of adventurers with their fates as yet undetermined, and turn to the new group.
To make a long story short, the Hospital of the Healing Light is filled with people suffering from the same malady as your mother, their minds drawn partially into the myriad other worlds that have opened into yours. Despondent, you eventually find the home of the scholar the stranger spoke of. There is a gathering there already, a motley band of people who appear to be adventurers. As you arrive they're dispersing, talking of various expeditions they're about to undertake. Only one remains, a human of indeterminate age dressed as a steward. He looks up at your approach and asks, "Can I help you, sir?"
The door of the home stands open, but it's quiet inside. As you stand upon the threshold, a mouth appears from the stone of the wall, small and magical. An old man's voice pipes out from it in a pleasant tenor. "Come in, my friends. We have much to discuss. There are food and drink for you inside. Make yourself comfortable, I will be joining you presently."
There is a man sitting at a table in a large open courtyard, papers strewn about him. He is a short balding Varisian man, dressed in a sleeveless tunic and light trews due to the heat. A large glass of something sits near to hand, and he is working intently on what look like star charts. He looks up as each of you enter and says some variation on, "Good day, my friend. Zeldones am I, priest of the Starsong."
Sami's concerns are confirmed as he encounters a multitude of fellow sufferers at the Hospital. With all their problems here, how could they have the time to help a poor woman a world away? Fraught with distress and a sense of failure, Sami continues to the scholar's house, but waits humbly to the side as they complete their business.
At the steward's approach, Sami looks up, then gives a quick bow of his head to show respect to one of service to so obviously successful a man. My apologies for coming unbidden, but I fear that I have no where else to go. I've come from quite a distance away to seek healing for my mother, who has the dream sickness. I have been to the Hospital, but I fear that their own problems far outweigh my own. There are those in the streets of this city that claim that the scholar, Prester Gallowsmith, may be able to help me. I beg of you, sir...if I could only have a few moments of his time?
Xavier promptly replies to the floating mouth, "Beggin your pardon Sir, but I was hoping you'd explain yeself a bit more before I come in, I mean I'm hungry an all but I'd rather know what this is about and why you chose me?"
After waiting quite patiently for an answer, Xavier catches on that the voice was formed earlier and not actually the mage himself.
Grumbling, he enters. these Mages are crazy
He looks at the man at the desk and the other fellow starts talking. Never one to interrupt a conversation, (this wasn't who he was looking for anyway) he looks around for this food and drink.
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So this is the place....
Eretria smirks, slightly amused by the males attempt to interact with the magic mouth, being familiar with magic she knew not to respond to it and instead drew her attention to the priest in the courtyard.
"Then... you aren't the one I seek... I assume you are here for the same reasons I was called here?"
She glances at the others present, wondering if they were called for the same reason.
While he speaks he's been guiding you further into the house, ending up in a courtyard with several food-covered tables. Sitting at one of the tables is an elderly man in a sea-green robe; he's just finishing a glass of wine. He looks up as you enter. "Tanshen, who's this? I thought all the invitees were accounted for."
The steward bows respectfully. "That is correct, Master Gallowsmith. This one has come because his mother's mind has been taken, and he was told 'on the street' that you were working towards a cure."
Zeldones points Xavier towards a side table. Xavier, you were sure that the table was empty when you came in, but now there are clean plates and several serving trays with scrambled eggs, sausage, toasted bread, butter, and jam. There are also cups and a couple of pitchers, one of which holds room-temperature wine and the other of which holds chilled water. Once the fighter has been sent on his way, the priest turns back to Eretria. "'Tis true, Master Gallowsmith also called me. However, when the others were sent out on their errands across the many worlds, he asked that I remain and assist him in riddling out some astronomical curiosities. That was but two days past, and though I knew more were invited you're the first I've seen."
Sami is taken aback by the Steward's fluency, and finds himself far more comfortable in the man's presence, which was undoubtedly the man's goal. He keeps his quiet, intent upon his surroundings and the man's words as he is led through the home. Sami offers a deep bow as he's presented to the scholar.
It is an honor to meet one of your reknown, Master Gallowsmith. Your steward is correct - I've traveled...quite a distance, in fact...in search of a cure for my ailing mother. Only, I've found that her malady is shared by a vast portion of Golarion, is seems.
I'm afraid I don't understand the "wounds in the world" that could cause this, but I am devoted by honor and love for my family to find a cure. Can you put me on the path to fix these wounds?
The old man smiles at the monk. "Allow me to explain, so that you'll better understand what you're committing to."
He pauses, gathering his thoughts. "We have discerned that every major event in the history of our world holds a certain temporal energy. It permeates the planar boundaries and, as we found out, alters them. That is, we thought that every major event or keystone moment creates a potential for an equal and opposite outcome. We believed that the very energy that causes history to hinge upon that moment creates its opposition. When this occurs, a new Golarion is produced, divergent from our Golarion in that moment. If the event is strong enough, that Golarion continues, evolving in its new path separate from our path, spawning its own alternates. If it is weak, it will die, usually within a few days, but we have seen such realities persist for longer before fading. Indeed, in Pharasma's Boneyard, there may well be a graveyard of such realities.
"But I digress. In this garden of forking paths, it seemed necessary for there to be a prime path, a Golarion from which all others sprang, and clearly since we were observing this ourselves our world must be that world. That may not be the case; it is immaterial, though, for it seems as if the weight of these other realities is becoming too much for all the worlds to bear. The forking paths are coming together again under the stress. The first signs were dreams, and the plague that took your mother--as the myriad paths began to intersect, the first intersections were only large enough for thoughts. Somehow your mother's thoughts were drawn through one of these, and they cannot find their way back. The problem is growing, however: though they are now few in number and hard to find unless one knows where to look, there now exist physical rifts in the fabric of reality that are the result of this stress. They are the tears where one reality intersects with another, and if they are allowed to continue, they will eventually cause all realities to collapse in upon each other, destroying them all. We know not why or where this threat comes from, but we believe we may have a way to stop the collapse."
He pauses, then extends his hands in front of his body, murmuring the words of a spell. A mist coalesces between his outstretched hands, forming the image of a network of roots. "In each reality, we have identified a keystone, a place or person or thing upon which that reality rests. These things have become lacking in some way and must be rectified if that reality is to be shored up against the collapse. If enough are repaired the rifts in the realities will close, and all that now lies on the wrong sides will be drawn home. I have taken the lead and sent forth bands of adventurers into a few of the worlds that can be reached from here, with instructions on how to repair the keystone for that world.
"That is what I would ask of you: To go into another world and perform such activities as may be necessary. Regretfully, I have no one left to send with you; however, I may be able to find allies for you. For that is what we all missed:
"We are not the prime path. There may not be a prime path, or if there is it lies beyond our ability to see. I have been in contact with my analogs in different realms, for we are all working to repair reality as we know it. I can send you to a realm where one of my analogs has already sent a group; they are not faring well, though, and need reinforcements.
"I can offer no guarantee of success. This particular world has in it a tangle in reality's fabric, which my analog called the Dark Road. Its terminus must be destroyed." The image of the network of roots shifts, showing instead an island in the midst of a vast oval lake, surrounded by scorched and blasted rock. It is night. There is a circle of stones on the island, and from the center of the circle a faint line reaches skyward; the line is a black so intense it stands out against the night sky. "The island you see lies in a sea in what was, in that world, once the center of the forests of Kyonin. If you are willing, I can send you to a rift that will take you to where my analog's party is assembling. As far as my colleagues and I can tell, this is the only way to cure your mother. What is your decision?"
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Eretria nods slightly, taking a seat at the table as she glances down at the table, the food look good enough but she wasn't sure about eating too much in this heat. However, coming from a desert climate she knew never to turn down water when offered. She reaches for the pitcher of water to pour herself a glass.
"Not to rush things... but... when exactly will we be meeting Prestor?"
Zeldones looks over at a circular mosaic in the center of the floor, depicting the legend of the drowning of Old Azlant. (The mosaic is so skillfully made that the water almost seems to move.) "He comes and goes at his whim; many irons in the fire, he has. Though asked he did for a chart, the which I have largely finished, and 'twas of such great urgency that I cannot imagine he'll delay in taking it from me."
Sami stays respectfully silent during Gallowsmith's story, his gaze steady and focused. At the close, his mouth opens, then shuts, and he clears his throat. I...your analog? This is...you - but on another world, right? I'm sorry, but this is all a great deal to take in. While I've come across an entire world to seek help, I'm not sure how I can trust what you're saying. I...I want to help my mother, and those others, do not doubt. But, other worlds? Us...me...but slightly different and in a different place; it's just so hard to believe in.
What guarantee would we have that repairing these worlds will fix these dreams? You've said that we may not be the prime existence; what if, when repaired, the diverging realities are swallowed up by the prime, and we may no longer exist?
Sami's stance, for the first time, seems slightly unstable, though he's quick to recover. The green-tinged scales of his hands reflect the light as he curls his hands into fists. How many keystones have you seen?
Xavier was torn. He'd been on the road and hadn't seen food of this quality in weeks. Yet he had the woman to consider. She was quite fine and if he were to have any chance of bedding her later, he'd have to show some manners, along with some charm. For now he stayed quiet, he found silence the best way to avoid saying something stupid. Later he'd have to find which inn she was staying in and buy her a drink.
"Which leads me to my next response: I have seen one keystone with my own eyes, and have scryed out hundreds more across the worlds. Not all need be repaired to effect a reversal of the current state, though, else we'd be lost.
"It comes to me that there is one other thing that I could do for your mother specifically, if you help me. If I could trace which world her thoughts have been drawn to, I could open the gate farther, allowing her mind to return more easily. I am reluctant to do that, though, because it strengthens the rifts and weakens the world."
Sami's eyes widen at the description of the alternate world, his expression showing a naive lack of understanding in the scope of the world and worlds around him. Having been largely confined to a small farming village for most of his life, the Nagaji's long journey from his homeland was nearly the extent of distance that the young one could fathom.
The fact that you offer such a thing, sir, reassures me. I appreciate your offer. Should you find this world that her thoughts have been drawn to - will you tell me what the keystone is in this world so that I may repair it?
His mind a jumble of random thoughts, Sami continues, seeming to forget that he had just asked a question. I feel I must tell you that, while I appreciate this work you've done and continue to do, I have doubts. He wave his hands quickly, agitated. Don't take me wrong - I do not mistrust you, it's just a great deal to understand that I wasn't aware of before. But...I have no other choice. My mother is ailing, possibly dying, and you are the first one who has seemed to want to do something about it.
He raises his eyes, and his gaze is as steady and unyielding as stone. I will find these keystones, and I will repair them. I will not...cannot fail. You will wish me to leave now?
Xavier looks to the scholar and the beautiful woman. One a man who has been here for some time and may have some answers, the other a stunning face (so far).
So.... he says looking at the woman,Did a bird call you here too? I guess this man is a wizard. They keep talking birds n stuff. Mine came to me after a battle, said I was needed. You got the same message?
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Eretria looks over at Xavier with a slight smile, "A bird? Interesting... perhaps it was a familliar... no... I received an invitation while I was here in the city but I do not recall a bird." She takes a sip of her water, inspecting the man carefully, she already knew he knew little of magic, even with his most recent comment. By his looks he seemed some sort of fighter, they were good for drawing attention when one was casting a spell or two. "I suppose the type of invitation does not matter but clearly we were both invited."
While the others are talking Rashun appears to be lost in thought, and it suddenly dawns on him that others are talking to each other.
"My name is Rashun Tollinger. I know that my goddess sent me some strange dream, and now I am here. That Sarenra wishes me here is all I need to know as far as accepting the request. I do not know anything of a Worldwound though."
Eretria, Rashun, and Xavier:
As Rashun finishes speaking, Zeldones looks back over his shoulder. "Ah, here he is now." The three of you turn, only to see the tiles of the mosaic rearrange themselves as they rise from the floor, to form into the shape of a man. He appears to be old but still hale, with white hair and beard, and he wears robes the color of the sea. He speaks, and it's the voice you heard at the door.
"I am Prester Gallowsmith. Please forgive my appearance here; there is much to be done and many leagues between us to do it in. Allow me to tell you a story, my friends."
He pauses, gathering his thoughts. "We have discerned that every major event in the history of our world holds a certain temporal energy. It permeates the planar boundaries and as we found out, alters them. You see, every major event or keystone moment creates a potential for an equal and opposite outcome. The very energy that causes history to hinge upon that moment creates its opposition. When this occurs, a new Golarion is produced, divergent from our Golarion in that moment. If the event is strong enough, that Golarion continues, evolving in its new path separate from our path, spawning its own alternates. If it is weak, it will die, usually within a few days, but we have seen such realities persist for longer before fading. Indeed, in Pharasma's Boneyard, there may well be a graveyard of such realities. But I digress. In this garden of forking paths, there is a always a prime path, a Golarion from which all others sprang. Our world is that world. However, it seems as if the weight of these other realities is becoming too much for this world to bear. The rifts are the result of this stress. They are the tears where one reality intersects with another, and if they are allowed to continue, they will eventually cause all realities to collapse in upon each other, destroying them all. We know not why or where this threat comes from, but we believe we may have a way to stop the collapse."
Gallowsmith pauses and the mosaic tiles composing him rearrange to form a sort of network of roots. "In each reality, we have identified a keystone, a place or person or thing upon which that reality rests. These things have become lacking in some way and must be rectified if that reality is to be shored up against the collapse." A portion of one root lights up, and as it glows, you see an island in the midst of a vast oval lake, surrounded by scorched and blasted rock. It is night. There is a circle of stones on the island, and from the center of the circle a faint line reaches skyward; the line is a black so intense it stands out against the night sky.
Gallowsmith's voice comes from all around you. "This is the Dark Road, a tangle in the fabric of reality that, when combined with the rest of what is happening, threatens to tear all apart if it is not destroyed. Break the terminus before the Road is strengthened by the conjunction, and this reality shall be strengthened and the threat against all of us is lessened by the weight of a single grain of sand. Minor, perhaps, but taken in total with others and it may be enough to save us all.
"You must have questions. Ask, and I shall answer as best I may."