Ostendiel and Tai make their careful, patient way up the side of the monolith. Tarn begins to climb and gets about fifteen feet off the ground before losing his grip. Before he can fall more than a few feet, however, he feels a pair of invisible hands catch him! Whatever is holding him flies to the top of the pillar of stone and gently deposits him, where he can look down and see two of his companions continuing to climb and the last one waiting, still staring upwards.
Looking around, Tarn sees he stands on a level stone surface atop the round pillar. A pedestal rises from the middle of the surface, with a small reliquary upon it. Itephta, the abbot of Tar Kuata, sits hovering above the spire, accompanied by a slender Garundi woman carrying a long spear, her dark hair woven into a braid.
Sard enlarges himself and begins the climb, but falls almost right away. Fortunately, his extra height means the fall does him no real harm. As he stares as the wall and considers trying it again, he too feels invisible hands – quite a few of them in this case, due to his size – take hold of him and fly him to the top of the spire, where his companions await. A few moments later, Aeotsep completes the climb to the top as well, carrying a large sack tied to his back. He nods in recognition of Tai and Ostendiel’s successful climbs, then turns to hear what the abbot has to say.
“This is your last test, Pathfinders—one I personally requested and insisted on observing,” Itephta says without taking his eyes off the wooden case in his hands. The young monk opens the lid, gracefully plucks a wand from inside, and hands the empty box to Aeotsep. Itephta points the wand at the spire, and in a matter of seconds, the narrow summit expands into a broad platform, like an unfolding mushroom.
“Irori teaches that inner peace and knowledge are key, but one must be able to defend his values in trial by arms,” he explains as the Garundi woman alights on the platform. “I ask that you spar with the monastery’s champion, Aramaya. Please make it an honorable fight, for the great Tar Kuata watches us today.”
It’s clear that Aeotsep’s idea of an honorable fight prohibits dealing lethal damage, as he opens his bag to reveal an array of wooden weapons, allowing the Pathfinders to choose from them. ”You may keep your own weapons if you wish,” he explains, ”but any use of lethal force will end the competition. Those of you who completed the climb under your own power may choose a weapon of higher quality.”
Once everyone is suitably equipped, Aramaya takes her stance on the opposite side of the platform, longspear held at the ready. Itephta says simply, ”Begin.”
The warrior monk is caught completely by surprise by Sard’s glittering cloud of dust, unaccustomed as she is to such golden extravagance! She adopts a defensive stance, looking more like the statuary in a vulgar monarch’s palace than a devoted monk, and continues trying to clear the dust from her eyes!
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Tarn shrieks in surprise as the invisible hands carry him higher, a surprisingly high-pitched scream for such a stocky individual. He regains his composure at the summit, though. "Didn't realize th'fairies would give me a hand up," he mumbles to no one in particular, his face redder than when he met Mehta.
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Tarn, still sans armor and shield, selects a heavy flail from the pile of amazingly-well-stocked wooden weapons. "I really don' think we should be fighting each other... what will such a thing prove?" he asks the levitating monk. "No matter... if it's a fight ye want, it's a fight ye'll get. I assume we should be nice?" he asks, regarding the champion with wary eyes.
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Round 1
Tarn waits for his comrades to position themselves, and then moves in to attack the champion, charging if still possible.
"Qortes iram kelleth!"
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Tai selects a masterwork wooden guisarme, but doesn't seem inclined to use it immediately. While wielding the long polearm, she moves in close to the blinded champion, opposite Tarn, and strikes with a fierce kick.
Addressing Tarn, "We sparred like this in the army all the time. Testing each other's mettle. No one will suffer any lasting injuries."
Aramaya scrubs the golden glitter from her eyes just in time to see a trio of Pathfinders rushing to attack her! Her defensive posture protects her from all but one of the attacks, but Ostendiel catches her hard in the spleen!
Aramaya plants the butt of her spear on the stone floor, ducking her head and kicking her feet high as she flips away from the surrounding Pathfinders. She easily dodges clear of the grease and dances across the low dais in the center of the pillar. Getting a bit closer to the ifrit who has caused her some inconvenience, she swings her longspear, attempting to push Sard towards the edge! She hits hard, her attack backing Sard towards the edge of the stone platform!
Tai's guisarme is unable to connect with the nimble monk. As Ostendiel darts in, Aramaya swings her longspear in a flat arc, smashing him powerfully! He manages to strike Aramaya in response!
As Tarn approaches, Aramaya gives him a gentle *thwack* with her spear! She then dodges his flailing flail!
Aramaya shakes off the effects of the glittering golden dust, though by this time she is easily the shiniest monk Tar Kuata has ever known. She appears rather frustrated, as if things aren’t going quite as planned, but she manages to stab at Tai before darting across the platform again.
Aramaya barely manages to duck under Ostendiel’s high kick as she dodges away! When the monk closes on her, she attempts to stab him – mercifully – with her spear!
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As Sard sees Aramaya shrug off his latest bout of glitter, the frustration he feels at not being able to use his full abilities seeps begins to seep through. As she jabs at Ostendiel, he shouts "Drop it!", hoping to distract her into dropping her spear. When that doesn't work, he remembers the wand in his hand and waves it at her, coating her spear in grease and then, fearing reprisal, moves a little farther away.
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Tai's frustration grows as she misses twice, then surges with the hit she takes, which, though non-lethal, stings mightily as her stony skin cracks at the impact.
Her heart beats faster sending acid through her veins as the voices of a hundred oread ancestors echo in her head: "TAKE HER DOWN!"
Tai rushes into position opposite Ostendiel and stabs forcefully with her guisarme.
Aramaya holds onto her spear easily, and nimbly dodges Ostendiel’s attack. Unfortunately, she zigs when she should have zagged, and Tai’s wooden guisarme knocks Aramaya’s arm painfully!
As Tarn approaches Aramaya, the monk swings at him! She misses, and the dwarf steps inside her reach and clobbers her with his faux-flail. Her eyes widen in surprise before she drops to the stone floor, her spear clattering away from her!
All is quiet for a moment, but for the breezes that blow constantly atop the peak. Itephta then floats down to the platform and lays a hand on Aramaya, reviving her. Climbing to her feet, Aramaya respectfully acknowledges the Pathfinders’ abilities and says she will retire to her room to contemplate her own performance. The same invisible presences that carried some of the party up the pillar transport everyone back to the base of the spire, and Itephta uses his magic to return the pillar to its original shape. He, Aeotsep, and Menkha then excuse themselves to discuss the party’s performance in the trials. The Pathfinders are free to wander the monastery’s grounds in the meantime, and a room in one of the Pahmet caves is made available for their use that night.
The next morning, the party is summoned to meet with Itephta and Aeotsep in the Master’s Room. Itephta wears a beatific smile as the Pathfinders enter, greeting them warmly, ”Good morning, good morning! I have spoken with Aeotsep and considered what I have heard, and I am delighted with your performance in our trials. I do not wish to be rude, but you have exceeded my expectations. Having discussed it amongst ourselves, I am open to bequeathing the piece of this ‘Sky Key’ to the Pathfinder Society, but I must ask first that the Society provide the monastery short-term assistance.”
“As you know from your travels here, our monastery is remote and receives little direct aid from Sothis and the great river cities of Osirion, and this distance has made us a target for worshippers of Rovagug who recently became our neighbors,” the abbot explains. ”These so-called Doomsday Knights frequently attack caravans and pilgrims, and we have done what we can to protect the trails that lead here with the disciples we have. In fact, one of our own, a respected Ouat named Bertrag, disappeared several days before you arrived. At this point I assume he has perished; the cult is known for sacrificing intelligent creatures.”
After a moment of thought, he continues, “Irori promotes self-perfection, but I do not confuse that with blind self-reliance when confronted with a true threat. Tar Kuata can guard travelers or strike at the cult’s heart, but it cannot do both. With your assistance, we might rid this land of the Rough Beast’s warriors once and for all. My proposal is this: we monks will continue to defend the monastery and the roads and you, representing the Pathfinder Society, will destroy this cult of Rovagug. What do you say? I am happy to answer whatever questions you might have, as much as I am able.”
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Sard's grumpiness at the restrictions of the mock battle fades and he puts on his best diplomatic face. "Of course, we can take care of the cultist problem. The Pathfinder Society is eager to be of assistance."
And I'm eager to fight without restrictions.
After a moment's thought, he adds "What else can you tell us about these cultists, these Doomsday Knights?"
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Tarn helps Aramaya up and hands her the longspear she dropped, casting cure light wounds on her to revive her if he can do so before the flaoting monk arrives.
"Don't trouble yourself, lass... Four to one odds is no a fair fight, an' your master knows it. I don't know what ye've done to deserve this punishment in his eyes, but it's no' your lack of 'self-perfection' that's at issue here." He glares at the floating monk throughout the rest of the trip down.
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After hearing the request for aid, Tarn stares incredulously at the monk, but bites his tongue to avoid offending the clearly-insane head of the order. Test us for a full day of parlor tricks, while followers o' the Rough Beast're out slaying travelers? Would no taking care of these cultists been test enough? Judgemental bastards, puttin' their own mental state above the safety of pilgrims who are lured here to learn this assinine religion! How badly does the Society really need these chowderheads? I'll give The Ten a piece o' my mind when we get back to Absalom...
Itephta answers the party’s questions, his serene face seemingly undisturbed by Tarn’s stare. ”The Doomsday Knights are a cult of Rovagug led by Tasutek, a priest granted considerable physical strength by his patron. Most wield divine power in one form or another. The church of Sarenrae warned us of this group, which fled the Dawnflower’s wrath in An and found refuge here. We have tracked the Doomsday Knights to a long-abandoned mine located more than a day’s travel north of here.”
Aeotsep then steps forward and says simply, ”I wish you fortune and insight in the challenges you will soon face. In recognition of how well you have performed in our trials, I wish you to have these.” He slips two rings from his fingers and hands them over, as well as a phylactery he wears.
After brief farewells, the Pathfinders set out on their journey, travelling all day and spending one night in the open before finishing the journey the next morning. The mine entrance is right where the abbot described it. A weathered wooden sign still stands by the entrance, warning visitors in Osiriani to “keep out.” The mine’s adit is boarded over, though the planks are loose and easily removed.
A peculiar steam permeates the air of the mine, stinging the eyes of any who enter and the air feels warm, getting hotter during the descent through the entrance tunnel. Torches in the wall sputter in the damp air, providing only dim light in the tunnels.
The tunnel descends for a hundred yards or so before opening into a large chamber, where the air is acrid and unpleasant. Five horses tethered to hooks on the walls have bloodshot eyes, rashes, and other minor conditions from their exposure to the mist. As the party enters the room, the horses get agitated and begin neighing nervously, even kicking once or twice.
There are no doors out of this chamber, but there appear to be two ways to descend to the lower mine levels: a set of mine carts to the east, and an elevator to the west. The mine carts sit on a double track that descends down a steep tunnel. Each pair of carts connects to a pulley assemblage by chains, which an operator can move using a large windlass at the top of the tunnel.
The old cargo elevator appears to be inoperable due to several jammed mechanisms.
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"Don't everyone look at once," Tarn whispers, "but there's a little spidery demon theng hiding under those carts..."
He surveys the scene, and then states, "Five horses... we don't even need to wait for the rest of the patrol. I bet I can get tha' elevator working in a few minutes..." He moves over the the elevator, but pulls out his crossbow instead of any tools, shielding his actions with the horses.
It's pretty clear he's speaking only for the benefit of the "spidery demon theng", but he's not fooling anyone.
Ah, Tarn, you do tell a fine tale, I just hope the other Pathfinder's aren't lead astray by your clever ploy...
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Tai eyes the tunnel warily.
She digs around in her bag to see if she has any oil or grease for the axles of the cart, until Tarn whispers of a possible threat. She smiles slightly at his attempt at misdirection.
I do appreciate dwarves. So straightforward. I always feel a little uneasy around those too skilled with lies.
She reaches quietly for her weapon, not looking yet in the direction Tarn indicated.
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Hearing Tarn's whisper, Sard says with a smile "Kinda creepy in here, huh?"
Dangerous, too. Better take some precautions, since I have a little time to think this time instead of being (almost literally) dumped into combat.
He mutters and waves one hand slightly while staring at a small piece of leather on his other sleeve.
The little spidery thing continues to watch from the shadows.
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Tarn loads his crossbow, and when ready he wanders back to where he can see the spidery demon. If it's still there, he tries to see if he can identify it.
if it's something that seems it would be allied with a cult of Rovagug, I will shoot it in the head. If I can't identify it or it's a good creature, I will hold my fire.
Tarn and Sard both identify the creature as a homunculus, a miniature servant created by a spellcaster as a spy and messenger. Tarn's crossbow bolt slams into the side of a mine cart just above where the creature's eyes peer out. It screeches in alarm and darts off down the steep tracks, flying quickly out of sight! The horses continue to whicker in alarm and discomfort.