Earlier this week, you all received an invitation to a party being held at the Lantern Lodge, the beautiful and exotic estate of the Tian venture-captain, Amara Li, in Absalom’s Petal District.
Decorated with flowing script and artistic renderings of fireworks, the card clearly indicates in Common that the celebration is for the Snapdraon Festival, a traditional Gokan holiday featuring fireworks and rich plum wine. The expected attire is to "dress to impress", and each of the invitations bears a smaller hand-written note within.
Seek me out upon your arrival.
-Amara Li
**
Only the luckiest or most influential Pathfinders receive invitations to Amara Li’s annual Snapdragon Festival celebration, and wise recipients take advantage of them. The aroma of blooming orchids and flowing wine mixes with the acrid tang of recently exploded fireworks, and the sound of strangely discordant music comes from a duo of Tian women playing an unusual stringed instrument and a reed flute.
The crowd mingles calmly, most guests clearly hoping to be seen more than actually paying attention to those with whom they converse, though
the plum wine seems to have affected many who now move about the lodge's grounds waving sparkling wands of fire and shooting whirring, whizzing fireworks into the sky above the koi pond.
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Entering the grounds of the lodge, Drail Harlon paused, his pale blue eyes scanning the crowd and taking in the activities of the revelers.
Drail breathed out softly while his hands pulled at the lapels of his waist-length jacket, fashioned of supple leather with decorative trim at the collar and cuffs, worn over a pressed white tunic. A pair of pressed and clean dark trousers were tucked into calf-length boots, the buckles on them freshly shined.
Drail smiled thinly, the expression pulled slightly lopsided by the scar running from his temple to the corner of his mouth on the right side of his face. Freshly shaved, his now-smooth cheeks and chin display the faint hint of other much lighter scars. He runs a hand over his freshly cut salt-and-pepper hair.
Continuing to scan the crowd, Drail's hand falls from his hair to the hilt of the sword worn at his waist, coming to rest comfortably on the weapon.
Sheathed in an ornate gilded scabbard, the long curved weapon appears of Tian Xia design and smithing, the hilt elaborately peace-bonded into the scabbard with yellow ribbon in what is a clear display of deference to the occasion.
Now, to find Amara Li, Drail thought to himself, as he stepped forward into the revelry, moving through the crowd. His motions appear light and smooth, displaying the clear ease of a man used to wearing a sword.
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Adebisi strolls in with confidence. His hair neatly arranged in short corn rows. Around his neck is numerous tribal symbols, including what appears to be a shrunken head.
Despite his wild appearance Adebisi seems at home at such a gathering as he gracefully fills his plate and mug with delightful food and drink.
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Cao Xueqin floats into the ballroom wearing an ornate robe of deepest jade green and ivory white, decorated with finest gold chest plate, brooches, and other fineries. His topknot shines as it winds its way like a tail form his head. The boy could not be more than thirteen, but carries himself with confidence.
An old man scurries in front of him and declares, "Master Cao Xueqin, Celestial Poet of Utmost Puissance and Beloved Great Great Great Great Grandsome of the Third Wife of the Eternal Emperor."
Cao Xueqin is a young noble of the nation Po Li who has been declaring himself the reincarnation of the Eternal Emperor, worshipped by that nation's people and said to have fallen at around the same time as Aroden.
Cao nods to the old man and flags down a waiter. Taking a flagon of mead from a tray, he sniffs eagerly and downs it with a steady guzzle. He belches rather loudly, but then settles back into a poised posture.
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Etta Liddy strides in to the festival with her normal confident air. While petite, she has the appearance of a woman of much greater stature and appears to be much more mature than her years.
She has exchanged her usual poncho for entertainers garb. While brightly colored, the garments are clean, pressed and flattering on her diminutive frame. A simple collar and cuffs adorn the neck and the sleeves, giving it the appearance of being a finer outfit than it truly is. Her short, brown hair is smoothed back and fastened with a leather thong at the nape of her neck. Her hand twitches slightly at her hip, as if she is anxious that her pistol is not within reach.
"No weapons....Indeed." She grumbles under her breath.
She stills her gait and her small brown eyes narrow as she scans the crowd. Her gaze settles on the subject of her search and her rather mousy features soften. The genuine affection in her expression makes her almost appear pretty in the soft evening light .
She strides forward, pausing only when she reaches Drail Harlon's side.
"Some might say you even look handsome, Old Man. I never said I was among them....but some might." She says as a wide grin spread across her face.
Patrons throughout the party, all mostly dressed in Gokan style, meet and greet the Pathfinders among them. Drail and Cao have little issue blending in with the crowd, exchanging pleasantries like an Abadarian would exchange gems for coin.
Adebisi appears all but shunned, as guests spy the various tribal marks about his neck, mumbling among themselves as they part way for his passage.
"A shrunken head? Really? Disgusting..."
Etta receives a handful of propositions from foreigners with thick accents, but luckily for her (or the foreigners?), the words are so thick that their meanings are lost in translation.
An old, bearded man also mingles his way through the crowd, along with another Tian Xia native - and you soon find yourselves gathered around in a semi-circle before a ornate sliding door that leads deeper into the Lantern Lodge.
A short man smiles and bows before you all, before sliding the door open and beckoning you into a hallway beyond.
Ascending stairs and entering beyond another sliding door, you are soon greeted by Amara Li within her private study, where she is seated on a reed mat before a low table set with an exquisite porcelain tea set.
She motions for the Pathfinders to sit with her around the table, and once the door is closed behind them and they have taken their seats, begins talking in a low, hushed voice without even the hint of a Tian accent.
"Pathfinders, welcome to the Lantern Lodge. I hope you find the Snapdragon Festival and my hospitality worthy of your time and energy. However, I have not brought you here for mere pleasantries and wish to ask you to partake a potentially dangerous mission on my behalf."
She smiles, gesturing for you all to be seated at the small table as she begins to pour tea.
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Hooli Jinowarui glides into the room, her grace evident in her small steps as she stays close to the old bearded man. Her black hair is bound up in a bun, held by a pair of long needles, over the simple black silk floor-length kimono, the lapels embroidered with golden foxes. A small smile, as if something amuses her, crosses her lips.
She sits, gracefully, as Amara Li gestures.
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Cao giggles a little bit as he sees Amara Li, remembering his first mission with the Pathfinder Society. He quickly adopts a more serious expression and bows slightly toward her—a bow seeming to indicate the only slight deference that the Eternal Emperor might give to an aristocratic host. You are the second best Amara Li I've had the pleasure of knowing.
Nodding curtly to each person seating themselves, Amara Li continues to pour tea into the ornate porcelain cups with practiced precision.
"Long ago, one of my most esteemed ancestors, who was rich in power but poor in sense, gave a gift to a foreign prince, a gift that prince did not deserve and my foolish ancestor had no right to give — a ceremonial jade katana."
Amara smiles at Cao before she continues.
"At the time the gift was sent, its recipient was invading this island. He laid siege to Absalom from his fortress in the foothills of the Kortos Mounts. Like those who came before him, the warlord failed to take Absalom and perished in the attempt. On the very day of his defeat, his castle crumbled to dust in a violent earthquake and has been lost to the centuries ever since."
Sighing, Amara refills her own cup and sips the hot contents.
"My family's heirloom was lost with it."
Pausing, she sets the cup down and collects her thoughts before continuing.
"A recent report by a group of Pathfinders gives me hope that they have finally found the ruin, and I might finally recover my family's treasure."
"I now hope for its recovery, which is why I have summoned you all here. This deed will bring you much honor within the Society, and if you deliver the katana to me, you will have my favor."
Smiling, Amara Li turns her attention to each of you in turn, hope clearly evident in her eyes.
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Etta's hands seam to steady as she picks up the cup of proffered tea (they were twitching quite violently from all of the foreign attention). She seems ill at ease in her unfamiliar garments, but is making an exceptional effort not to fidget in the presence of the Lantern Lodge's matriarch.
"Venture Captain Li, it is an honor to be of assistance." She inclines her head while never letting her gaze drop from Amara's own. "I am sure that you will find my skills as a Pathfinder to be to your satisfaction."
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Drail, having taken the proffered cup of tea in both hands, raises it in respect toward the Venture Captain, taking a polite sip before placing the cup gently back down in front of him in a practiced motion.
While listening to Amara Li's explanation, Drail glances sidelong at the seated Etta. Having ignored the young woman's earlier affectionate verbal jab with his customary stoicism, the faintest trace of a smile crosses his face at her obvious discomfort, then widens further into a warm approving grin at her words of respect toward the Venture Captain.
Well, she did not put her feet on the table, and she actually used some manners. Perhaps she really is learning...
At the concluding words from Amara Li, the warm expression instantly disappears from Drail's face, replaced with a look of firm resolve and respect.
Meeting the eyes of the Venture Captain, he places his hand on the hilt of his peace-bonded katana, gripping it firmly. Without looking away from her, he slowly bows his head in acceptance of her request for aid.
"This will be done, for the honor of your family."
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Cao smiles magnanimously to the venture captain, a touch of adolescent awkwardness apparent in his imperiousness. "The Emperor of Lung Wa shall grant you this wish, for your family are well regarded... How do they say in this language... Banner men... To our throne."
He gives Amara Li a wink, intending to convey, Play along now, my lady. Alas, it just comes across as a pompous teenaged boy's lechery.
"Pray tell, venture captain, whom do you expect us to meet during our journey? Shall I summon my armies?"
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Archibald enters the lodge accompanied by an aroma of dust and old tomes. He has made no attempt to dress up for the occasion, wearing a robe of faded burgundy with a thin layer of dust that suggests that this man has been a permanent fixture in the libraries of the Grand Lodge for several decades. He has, however, worn the least threadbare of his wizard's hats.
Refusing to part with his spellbook and staff, Archibald spends some time browbeating the guards into submission before he's allowed entry, and enters the proceedings in a fouler mood than usual, huffing and puffing with his face a deeper shade of red than his robes. His grand entrance is accompanied by the shatter of a valuable Minkaian vase as he struggles to get his quarterstaff through the doorway. He answers the wide-eyed stares with a stamp off his staff, walking briskly through the crowd of courtiers with an "Out of my way, confound you! Move! There is a wizard coming through!"
"Where is that wretched woman? Summoning me an old man at this hour. Why, I'm going to give her a piece of my mind!" he grumbles, tapping his foot and muttering to himself until he's admitted into the next room.
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As the venture captain admits them Archibald points a crooked finger at her, making a pained grimace as he meets her gaze and the words "Why you listen here young lady..." seem to catch in his throat. As she motions for him to sit, he's surprised to find himself doing so, but the stooped old man won't be able to do so without help. You can practically hear his bones creaking from the effort as he manages to lower himself a few inches, and he looks entreatingly to the others. Once seated, he bats the helpful souls in the party away. "Hands off! Hands off I say! I'm old, not a cripple. Why, back when I was a recruit we respected our elders, oh yes we did." he says, folding his arms with a theatric swish of his robes and sitting sulkily as Amara Li addresses them. He accepts the tea with a sullen glare, bringing the cup to his lips. A twitch of his whiskers betrays him sniffing it before taking a sip.
"Warlord? Wha? Wh... What Warlord?" Archibald snaps, brow furrowing with thought. "Could it be the archwizard Nex? Or perhaps..." he says with an eager curiosity in his voice, rattling off a list of potential names. Cutting himself off as he remembers himself, glowering at Amara. "That's an awfully long journey for a man my age. Did the library staff put you up to this? Always trying to get rid of me, they are. You need some sunlight, Archibald. You need to socialize, Archibald. You need to wake up, we're closing, Archibald. Hogwash! All of it!"
Amara Li smiles politely as she takes in the various idiosyncrasies of the Pathfinders assembled at her table this afternoon.
"It is a task well suited to your skills, good Etta."
"I will... have to be sure we have more of those Chelish eggs upon your return, sir dwarf."
"And your family will undoubtedly be honored by yet another success, good warrior."
Amara Li raises a hand to Cao and smiles.
"No, no armies are needed for this task. I would prefer if the retrieval of the katana be kept between us, if at all possible, young prince."
She finally clasps her hands around Achibald's, practically scaring the elderly wizard to death.
"My dear friend. Your brilliant mind will guide these Pathfinders like a lantern on the darkest of nights."
Asad's Keep was buried long ago, when its master, a Qadiran warlord named Taliq Asad lost his bid to conquer Absalom. This place was his last stronghold.
As his conquest crumbled around him, Asad became paranoid, and in his madness he took out his frustration by creating a terrible earthquake that reduced the aboveground portions of his keep to rubble, killing many of his lieutenants and trapping dozens of his officers and servants in the catacombs beneath the ruined structure.
It was only a matter of time before the trapped Qadirans devolved into madness, cannibalism, and suicide. In the end, they all died violent deaths, succumbed to starvation or disease, or suffocated when the air finally ran out.
With your acceptance, Amari Li quietly explains where in the Cairnlands she believes you will find Asad's Keep and her lost weapon.
Then, rising with grace, Amari Li bows and smiles again with appreciation for all you have offered to do for her this day.
"Please, enjoy the rest of the evening and the remainder of the Snapdragon Festival. There are other venture captains about, whom I am sure you would both like to meet, and who would be interested in meeting you all as well."
**
As you rejoin the celebration, a well-dressed Andoran man decorated in various medals waves and beckons you in his direction near the punch bowl.
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"I do not know if I can," she replies in common accented with her Tien roots, "but you have my word, on my honor, that I will do everything within my power to retrieve this relic."
Hooli bows her head as the words leave her lips.
Then she glances askance at the old wizard and her lips quiver as if she's trying to hold back word, the failure inevitable. "I'm sure they wouldn't dream of such a thing," she tells him, her voice full of much more laughter.
"After all, I'm certain they know not to meddle in the affairs of wizard, for they are subtle and quick to anger, no?" she finishes, quoting the old Tien proverb.
The man garbed in the military uniform - upon closer inspection the ceremonial fineries of an Eagle Knight - intercepts your departure from the meeting with Amari Li like an Andoran caravel intercepting a yellow-masted slave ship.
"Greetings, Pathfinders! Major Colson Maldris at your service."
Saluting, he speaks loudly, and several nearby guests stop their own conversations to watch him address you.
"I hear you're headed out into the Cairnlands on official Society business. Best of luck outside the city walls, though you look like sturdy enough adventurers. Perhaps not Eagle Knight material, but qualified for the work of a Pathfinder."
Sniffing to himself like a man back from assignment breathing fresh air for the first time in months, he adopts the tone and demeanor of a seasoned drill sergeant.
"A word of warning, though, friends — beware the walking dead. The crumbling ruins surrounding the city are rife with them, and you're likely to run into more than your fair share."
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Cao gets a petulant look for a moment, then smiles and starts tittering. Recovering himself, he says in his contralto voice,
He waves absently at the rest of the party and gives them each a patronizing look.
. . . . . .
Cao inclines his head at Colson Maldris as one does to a dog that's just come to its name for the first time. "The Eternal Emperor has no fear of these undead. He has led his subjects to victory over much greater foes. However, we thank you for your concern, Major Maldris."
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"Subtle. Yes." he says, acknowledging the for the first time as he squints in her direction, trying to make out his features before nearly leaping out of his skin as Amara takes him by the hand.
"I wh... Yes! Of course it will. Brilliant. Quite right. hhhrmYes." he says, mollified. He clears his throat, and erupts into a rattling cough. When the coughing subsides, he looks rather lost, and you can see his eyebrows dance as he wrastles with his train of thought, and eventually his resignation. "WELL. I must be going. A wizard has many important things to do. He has no time for fraternizing, or hand-holding, or anything of the sort." he says, standing teetering to his feet with the aid of his staff and hobbling out of the room.
As the major approaches, you can see Archibald bristling. He tenses, and you can see that he intends to tell the Major a thing or two about what he feels is Eagle Knight material. Remarkably, he manages to hold his tongue. At least until the Major has walked away. "Why, the nerve of that man! Hold this..." he says, thrusting his staff into unsuspecting hands. "I have just the spell in here. Hold on." he says, sweeping a plate of canapes from the table with a clatter and setting his spellbook down in a cloud of dust, he thumbs through the pages. "Polymorph... polymorph... Blast! I know it's in here somewhere."
Major Maldris raises an eyebrow at Cao's confidence in dealing with the undead.
"Perhaps you didn't hear my warning, boy?"
The major's last word has all the inflection of a sergeant handling a fresh recruit.
"Undeath and the undead are more than just a physical peril. Undeath is the worst.. kind.. of.. slavery."
"And slavery is an abomination - it should be eradicated like all servitude, whether to aristocracy or to mental control. Being enslaved to the flesh when Pharasma calls one's soul to the Boneyard is a fate I wouldn’t wish upon my greatest enemy."
The major considers the punch in his cup and swiftly downs it.
"While you're plumbing away in the depths of this Ahh-Sad's Keep, remember your duty to your fellow man - whether he's living or dead. Free any undead of their eternal servitude, and the resources of Andoran will be at your disposal."
"That's something you may want in future endeavors."
A young man in a fine, silken robe appears to be making his way through the crowd towards the major.
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Cao gets beet red with rage at the impertinence of Maldris speaking thus to the Eternal Emperor, then begins laughing hysterically, his mouth seeming to take up all of his face. "You... You... The Eternal Emperor shall see it done with utmost seriousness, Citizen of Andoran." He tries to swallow an ongoing series of guffaws.
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At the conclusion of the meeting with Amara Li, Drail stands with the ease of a man well-used to wearing a sword. He passes by Etta, meeting her eyes and with a wry grin, looks askance toward the elderly wizard.
"And you call me old," he murmurs to her in passing.
Drail stands at the doorway, allowing his newly met compatriots to walk out past him, giving each a slow measured nod as they do. Finally, he falls into step with Etta at the back of the group, walking back out toward the celebration.
Seeing the beckoning wave of the Andoran with the medals, he looks to Etta, arching an eyebrow slightly, then watching as the rest of the party gravitates toward the man.
The robed man finally reaches the major and whispers something to the Andoran man.
Major Maldris nods in understanding and as he once again resumes his full height, he smooths the wrinkles in his bright blue overcoat.
"Now, if you'll excuse me. Urgent Eagle Knight business calls. Good luck in your endeavors - you'll need it."
Perhaps waiting for this very moment, a second man of Qadiran descent plucks an appetizer from a tin plate and beckons the lot of you in his direction, near a curtained window overlooking the interior courtyard.
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Hooli looks confused at the man's quick departure, but she quickly collects herself despite the chill running up and down her spine in the wake of his words.
She bows to the boy claiming to be the Eternal Emperor, "Shall we go speak to this Qadiran, oh omnipotent one," she asks, a bare trace of laughter in her voice.
Beckoning as you approach, the well-dressed man effects a half-bow as he introduces himself.
"Well met, Pathfinders. I am Trade Prince Aaqir al'Hakam."
As the others form a semi-circle, he takes several steps away from the festival and addresses everyone in a slow, level voice with a strong Kelish accent.
"Like a fast-spoken djinn, I’ll get to the quick. I know where you are going. House Damaq of Qadira claim the ruin, but we are willing to allow you access for the price of a small deed easily accomplished during your adventure. You will be well compensated, I assure you, for profits are most rewarding when shared. I assume treasure-seekers like yourselves are interested in such a proposition?"
Without waiting for an answer, he continues, his eyes intent and his posture rigid.
"The ruin is Qadiran, which is why we claim it, and we are willing to defend it, but there are really only certain things left in Asad’s Keep we are interested in: trade agreements, of which we believe there to be many within the ruins. All we ask that you do is to turn over all trade agreements you find to us as soon as you return to Absalom, as we will be able to hold the signers to them even centuries after their signing."
"The satrap of Qadira—nay, the entire Padishah Empire of Kelesh — has much to offer the Pathfinder Society, and I personally have no qualms about sharing those resources with you, specifically."
Aaqir al'Hakam looks about hopefully and extends his hand.
"Shall we shake on this agreement?"
You believe the trade prince's legal statements are somewhat dubious.
Few houses try to protect any claims within the Cairnlands as such claims are notoriously difficult to uphold and enforce. Still, if any house could do it, it would be House Damaq.
It's clear that Aaqir al'Hakam is a deliberate man whose attitude, while brusque, is not directly hostile toward the you or the Pathfinder Society.
Nevertheless, it seems clear that he is unaccustomed to hearing the word
"no".
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Cao inclines his head patronizingly to the clearly subordinate (though taller) Qadiran. "The Eternal Emperor honors all agreements, and shall most certainly return many too you, that you might yourself have more to honor. Agreements are the life blood of great men, and so we shall see that you obtain many."
Cao nods emphatically, impressed with his imperial slight.
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Drail stands toward the back of the party, listening to the words of the Andoran man while seeming to watch the gathering.
As Maldris departs, Drail notes the beckoning Qadiran, following in the wake of the other Pathfinders.
As Prince Aaqir al'Hakam introduces himself and begins to speak, Drail's expression begins to harden, his jaw setting tightly.
He stares at the Qadiran, his eyes narrowing, appearing to study the man carefully.
At the Prince's suggestion of an agreement, he remains silent, his face expressionless, his eyes never leaving al'Hakam.
Aaqir al'Hakam appears pleased by everyone's response, and meanders back towards the party as you conclude your conversation with him.
"I am pleased that you will return these agreement to us. I wish you a prosperous fortune during your endeavors within Asad's Keep."
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Seeing her companions agreeing to the deal, Hooli remains quiet, though she almost can't help laughing as she picks up on Xueqin's insult.
After the Qadiran leaves away, she bows low to the young man.
"And how is it such an august personage ends up as a Pathfinder if this one may be permitted to ask," she says.
Adebisi :
Archibald : *
Cao : *
Drail :
Etta : *
Hooli :
Initiative:
Adebisi :
Archibald :
Cao :
Drail :
Etta :
Hooli :
Maurit :
Travel from Absalom through the Cairnlands and to your destination is arduous - the terrain is rocky and marred with the scars of millennia of wars.
After draining most of your waterskins, you finally come upon your destination.
At the end of the gully, about fifteen feet above the ground on a cliff face, is an ancient, ironbound door. Its wood is dried and cracked. Directly in front of the door is a steep slope of rubble and dust-crusted debris that, as luck would have it, provides a path - albeit a rough and difficult one - right up to the door.
As you all begin to make your way closer to the door, something scrambles and leaps from the top of the canyon onto the pile of debris.
As "she" lands, you all recognize tattered clothing flapping in the light breeze about her emaciated, withered limbs. Parched lips part and eager eyes settle on the lot of you as she speaks.
"How long will it take you all to cure, I wonder? You seem so full of life, and I am oh so hungry this day!"
The woman is a ghoul.
Shifting in the cool breeze, you spot a tattered badge of the Pathfinder Society among her clothes.
Surprise Round
24 Etta :
21 Cao :
14 Archibald :
13 The "Woman" :
Now Up: Etta, Cao and Archibald in a surprise round.
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"All Golarion? All Golarion my hat! My word, just who is this confounded Emperor you keep prattling on about?"
___
Archibald sets out with a sullen look on his face, knowing he'll be parted from his warm hearth and Favorited pair of slippers for quite some time. He makes the arduous journey even more tedious, with complaints about the weather, the pace, the blisters on his feet and the lack of respect for wizards in this day and age.
___
As the woman drops down from above, Archibald lets out a startled yelp, which he attempts to pass off as a chuckle. "Aiiiieeeee! ... Aheh... ahahaha... Aha! It'll take more than that to sneak up on this wizard!"
"I happen to have just the spell for this occasion! Yes..." he shouts, muttering to himself. "Yes, yes. Now which spell to cast? Blast it all! Is she undead or not?"
Peering at her from under the brim of his large hat, Archibald begins bobbing up and down, raising his voice and clearing his throat to make himself heard over the din of the combat. "Ahem! Yes. Er, yes... Excuse me! Could you, perhaps, clear something up for me? Yes, very good. Would you say that you're hungry for a nice pecan pie, or for the unsullied flesh of the living?"
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"You are very wise, grandfather wizard. To celestials like Us, Golarion is like unto a head inside a colossal cosmic hat. I suppose you could say We are the owner of that hat, by divine right, although the head you see is much smaller than Golarion. Well said, wizened Archibald. Well said."
. . . . .
Round 1, Init 21
Cao speaks, "Why, the God Emperor needs no cures. Would you like Our subjects to cure you, Hungry One? We are nothing if not merciful."
He readies himself for violence. Should the woman attack, he begins to sing a very pretty, inspiring song in a contralto voice.
"In Lung Wa lived a gray old mare.
A bitter nag was she.
Until one day there came a man.
A clever man was he.
He gave the mare much needed rest.
A nap eternal, see?
And so goes it with all gray old mares.
Lay bitterness to rest. Oh yes."
Mage armor
AC 12 (16 mage armor)
CMD 11
CMB -1
HP 8/8
Fort +1 Reflex +4 Will +2
Weapon Equipped none
Spells Concentrate +5, Penetrate +1
Bardic performance 1 of 11 rounds used (if ghoul attacks)
Daze (Will 15), Detect Magic, Read Magic
Hideous Laughter (DC 16), Sleep (DC 16)
Licking her emaciated lips, the ghoul hesitates at Archibald's question.
"Hrrhhh... pecan pie? It has been a long time since a pie..."
A long taloned hand reaches up to scratch a bit of decaying flesh from her chin.
"What was the other choice? Unsullied flesh of the living? Also sounds sooooo goooood - I'm not sure why, but either offer pleases me."
Still Up: Etta!
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Drail travels in near silence, his pace measured, his breathing low and quiet despite the rigors of the journey. His finery from the gathering has been replaced with banded and looped armor worn over broken-in leathers. The ornate blade from the previous evening is still belted at his waist, the ribbon that peacebonded it into the scabbard now gone.
At the sudden scrabbling leap and appearance of the ragged, emaciated woman, Drail instantly sets his booted feet, his hand flashing to the hilt of the ornate blade. He does not draw, but his eyes remained locked on the crouching figure.
His eyes narrow, noting a detail among her tattered rags.
"You are a Pathfinder," he murmurs, his eyes never leaving the woman.
Drail cocks his head slightly, keeping the elderly wizard in his peripheral vision as the man begins to prattle at the woman. He takes no action, but his grip seems to tighten on the hilt of his blade, his knuckles whitening.
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"I'm not sure," Hooli says, suppressing a chuckle,"that your head is that much smaller, oh magnificent emminence!"
Despite her training teaching her to attend to her surroundings, Hooli is distracted by picturing the purchase of a large hat for His Benificent Wonderfulness and lets out a squeal of surprise (also against her training) as the woman drops by.
Damn! she thinks, her face quickly becoming a mask. Again I fail. I will never learn...
"Friends, it is I, Maurit Zergo, a Pathfinder as well, even in this horrid form."
She almost seems normal and living for a second, but soon shambles back to her crooked slouch.
"Like you all, I journeyed here with a team to advance the Pathfinder cause, but met an undead creature within. Struck me down he did, dead I was -- and now I am... like this."
Maurit's eyes dart anxiously from face to face.
Maurit continues her subdued posture from her perch high atop the debris.
"Mercy?" she wonders, looking in Cao's direction.
"Not painful" she responds, turning to Hooli.
"Yes... hungry, very hungry" she concludes, only seeming to hear a single word spoken by the dwarf.
Smacking her lips, she considers inviting each of you for dinner before finally groaning and smacking her head into the remains of an old chair and howling.
"What now? Will the Pathfinders here, so full of life, follow in the same footsteps that Maurit did? Will they? Perhaps they will be luckier than Maurit. We will see, we will see."
The ghoul steps to the side slightly, allowing any who wish to pass to ascend the rubble to the iron-bound door.