The Lion Sleeps Inn lies 35 miles northeast of Zimar. The 300 year-old, two-story structure was once a far more elaborate affair, back when mining was a going concern in the rocky foothills of the region. The once-rich veins of copper, iron, and silver played themselves out nearly 30 years ago, causing the hill settlements to shrink so that today they are mere shadows of their former selves, and traffic has been reduced to an anemic trickle.
As you push in the door you are met with a large, open room that has a 25-foot-high ceiling, with a wooden balcony above the west, north, and east walls. A large central fireplace is at the center of the room, and a second hearth is shared with the kitchen. However, only the shared hearth is lit. It crackles merrily as a pair of black iron pots bubble above.
Heavy oaken tables with sturdy benches are arranged about the room, and the walls boast the trophies of successful hunters of years gone by: taxidermied heads of various animals — elk, deer, lions, wolverines, etc. Over the kitchen hearth hangs the stuffed head of a manticore. Wooden stairs lead up to the balcony.
Just to the west of the entry door, firmly affixed to the wall, is a fancy bronze plaque of a sort not uncommon in various Taldan establishments—a marker that commemorates the visit of some historical notable. This one reads:
“Micheaux the Magnificent, Future Grand Prince of Taldor, Father of Stavian, Slept on these Premises on 5 Lamashan in the Year 4497.
May Divine Providence Reward Him as He Deserves.”
The date embossed on the plaque at the bottom is only 2 weeks after the commemoration date—19 Lamashan 4497.
The bar on the right wall is made of sturdy oak, is surrounded by tall stools, and has leaves that fold up at either end so that the barkeep may enter the common room. Below the bar are two washbasins and an array of goblets, mugs and tankards, as well as some tableware and a large cudgel, which the proprietor, Vadim, judiciously applies to the heads of patrons who have forgotten themselves.
Today Vadim is running himself and his help ragged. Dellum's offer of riches and glory has attracted a slew of adventurers with heavy pockets. Vadim is behind the bar while his mentally challenged son, Oleppo, cooks and adolescent nieces, Magand and Corrine, serve. They are all working furiously to keep up with demand. By the looks of things, Dellum himself has yet to arrive.
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Blue eyes wide, the young Varisian man sweeps off his coat dramatically as he enters the room, his jacket billowing fantastically artound him in the sudden gust of wind. He tosses the coat over his shoulder, looking around the inn with a wide grin that shows two gold teeth, and no small amount of jubilation. He begins to head for the bar, when a low cough from the door stops him.
"Oh, right, of course," he chuckles, shaking his head. "Of course. Just follow me in, would you?" A low muttering comes from the figure standing outside the door, and he throws back his head and laughs. "Oh, I'm sure they've seen stranger things before. Oooh, look at this!" Distracted, he turns to read the plaque, then starts looking about at all the new people. As if remembering, he then snaps his fingers and heads for the bar, whistling a tune.
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Sighing, Veritas stoops her generous height and steps through the door, pleasently surprised at the high ceiling within. It was as if this building had been made for creatures of her height. Stretching her wings once, testing how much room she has, she follows Kalderasha to the bar, keeping an eye on the surroundings - she knew he wouldn't, after all. When the summoner offers to buy her a drink, she accepts - "You know I do not need to drink, but I find the taste of that honey-drink enjoyable." She takes her mug of that strange honey-drink, following Kal to a table. The benches look sturdy enough, at least, and she sits, her nine-foot frame hulking awkwardly over the table. "I should not be here," she intones quietly to the Varisian man. "They are staring."
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Kalderasha glances up at the angel, watching her drink awkwardly from her mug of mead, so small in her large hand. "But I like having you around," he sighs. "Besides, don't you want to meet all the new people as well? Oh, I'm sure they have such stories to tell!" He positively beams as he looks around the room, as if waiting for someone to strike up a conversation with him. He doesn't see Veritas sigh into her mug.
Silas looks up from the table that he was sitting at, drinking and eating his meal at, his eye perking up when he sees such an angelic sight walk in the door. He immediately stands up when she takes a seat.
"It is not often we have such a pleasure as to have one of Heaven's Host to dine in a place like this."
Silas brings his plate and cup up to the bar, to take a seat next to Veritas. He is wearing a very intricately made white robe, with a symbol of a seven pointed star with an open eye set into the middle on his chest and back. He carries a staff made of walnut wood, carved with all manner of creatures and also carrying the seven pointed star motif. As he sits, he places his plate and mug on the bar, he also gently sets down his wayfinder, a curious thing of intricate gyros and moving parts inside, much of what would normally be metal instead of a sturdy clear glasslike nature to see all the moving parts inside.
"May I have the pleasure of milady's name?
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Veritas looks down at the man as he sits next to her, unfurling a wing slightly so as to keep Kalderasha from his view. Kal. Why does he speak to me in this way? He is staring, Kal. I do not like it. I told you they would stare.
Eventually, satisfied the man is not a threat, she stretches her wings, letting the feathers rustle against her gleaming golden armour. "I call myself Veritas," she intones in her low, musical voice. "And what name do you call yourself?"
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Relax, Ver. He's probably just a scholar, curious about you.Kal smiles into his mug as he communicates with the eidolon telepathically, before pushing down her large wing and leaning across the table, extending a hand to Silas. "I'm Kalderasha," he grins, his gold teeth glinting in the glow from the fire. "Kalderasha Johan Stefan Balo la Kore of the Kopanari clan, though my friends call me Kal. I suppose that means you can, too!" His warm smile seems to positively radiate from him, and he either doesn't notice or doesn't care about the stern look from the angel sitting opposite him.
The man smiles at them both. "Veritas, Kalderasha. Pleased to meet you both. My name is Silas. Chronicler of the Grand Lodge of the Pathfinder Society in Absalom."
He smiles to Veritas. "I have not seen such a beauty in quite some time. Though I have had more than my fair chance to meet those of Heaven's Host."
Silas smiles and sidles up a little closer whispering to Veritas. "Your secret is safe with me. He is your summoner, yes?"
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"Absalom!" Kal's blue eyes light up at the mention of the city, the silver beads in his beard and moustache dancing as he grins more broadly than before. "Oh, my brother is at the Grand Lodge in Absalom! Do you know him? Janfri la Kore? He looks like me, but younger. Oh, but there's a lot of people there, aren't there. Maybe you don't know him after all. Ah well." His eyes catch the glass contraption on the table before gleaming again with excitement. "Oh, then this must be your wayfinder!" Without waiting for - or, indeed, even asking - permission, he snatches it up, examining the inner workings of the device through the glass shell. "Oh, wow! This is incredible!" he exclaims, turning the thing over to look at it from every angle.
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Kal. That is not yours. You did not ask, and I think you should put it back. Kal? Kal, you are being very rude. Noticing her summoner is too busy with the glass thing to listen to her, Veritas takes another sip of the sweet honey-drink, looking down at the small man who called himself Silas. "I am a creature of Shelyn. Beauty is a part of who I am," she says simply as the man comments on her appearance. When he guesses the truth about both her and Kal, she looks to her summoner sharply for guidance. Getting none, she nods once, slowly. "Yes. He is mine," she replies. Looking to change the subject, she points at the glass thing. "And what is that? Is it something people always find interesting?"
He smiles, nodding to it. "Yes, this is my wayfinder. I had it made specially. It helps me think at times, when pondering the cosmos. The varied planes of existance. The wayfinder is a symbol of belonging within the Pathfinder Society. You could say, it is an identifying mark. Our badge of office. Most of them are not so..., ornate, but I find that I do enjoy things that help me ponder mysteries."
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"Is your wayfinder fragile?" Veritas asks, watching as Janfri flips it in his hand and drops it on the oaken table. She shakes her head, resting two fingers against her horned, open-faced helm. "I apologise for him. He is like a child." Lowering her voice, trying to cancel its natural tendency to carry, she asks, "How did you know about us?"
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"Oh, so you know, then?" Kal asks, looking up from his examination of the wayfinder. "Well, I guess I don't need to keep it secret. Ver here is very special. See, some would call her a paladin, because she's so devoted to justice and righteousness, but see, I think she's The Paladin." He says this as though it explains everything, not understanding that it really doesn't.
Silas smirks at Kal, then looks up to Veritas. "How? Several things. I thought you might be an astral deva, but you don't quite have that inner glow that makes it difficult to behold your beauty. That and you are a bit on the tall side for one, if memory serves. Though I suppose I have a bit more understanding of otherworldly creatures than your average person."
Silas winks at her, then nods. "Well, don't worry about the wayfinder, its been through many scrapes and bumps. Just give him a good bonk on the head if he gets too rowdy."
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"He's a Pathfinder, Ver. They know these things." Kalderasha pulls something from a pocket, then flips it to Silas, the soft hiss of parchment sliding across the oaken table music to his ears. Staring up sternly at Silas is a figure printed on a card, an angelic figure dressed in golden armour with a large sword and even larger white wings. "The resemblance is striking, isn't it?" the summoner grins, tapping the words below the figure - "The Paladin". "I reckon this is Ver. I'm not a scholar, but I'm pretty sure she's a living personification of this card. She certainly has the right temperament for it. And look -" He points to the small symbols indicating the card to be of the suit of hammers. "Hammers are linked to physical might, and she has it in spades. Look at those muscles!" He teasingly grabs the Angela's bicep, chuckling when she tries to sweep his hand away with one wing.
"What do you think, Pathfinder? Does my theory hold weight?" His eyes glitter with excitement, the beads in his moustache dancing again as his grin widens.
A great flapping of wings, followed by a solid thump outside the inn, announce the arrival of Kiorec. Massaging his elbow as he enters, Kiorec scans the room as he enters, more to see who looks interesting than for any threat.
Short for a human, even most women around him stand taller than he, but few smile as wide or laugh as loud. Horns curl from his forehead, great wings hang from his back and fine brass scales cover his skin. With a slight limp he makes his way to the bar then bee lines to the great angel at the table.
Strange, that looks like an some form of angel, but I don't recognize her type. Well then, I know what table I will drink at this evening!
May I?
Just as Kioric is about to be seated a shorter man with brown hair, a pronounced chin and fine clothes trimmed in gold strides into the Lion Sleeps Inn. He walks like he owns the place and proceeds to a room in the northwestern corner. All eyes watch him as he walks.
A few minutes later, he calls each of you by name and beckons you to join him in the room.
When you enter you are met with a cheery fire in the hearth shared with the next room over to the east. There are two windows in the north wall and a table on the west. In the center is a large conference table of polished walnut.
Please, my friends, come, sit! He offers each of you a chair and a drink of fine wine.
Kiorec quickly enters the room when called and graciously accepts the drink and chair. He spins the chair around and straddles it giving his wings room to move.
Sipping on the wine, he savors its taste, enjoying the flavors as they dance in his mouth, waiting for his host to begin.
Silas enters the room nodding as he takes his seat, though he is a bit cautious. Our patron emerges finally. I hope to all hope that we can discover what it is that he has called us out here to do. And that we are equal to his task. Only three..., surely more of us could have been called. But perhaps I am worrying too much.
Silas sighs and sips from his wine.
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Kal sweeps his card fom the table, finishing his mug and following his host. He practically quivers with excitement as he takes his seat, shuffling his cards and admiring the shine of the walnut table. He runs a hand over it briefly, almost missing the offered wine - he takes his glass, and offers Veritas hers, sipping it as he waits patiently - as patiently as he can wait, anyway.
Hanoris takes his seat and gets right to the point. I have gone to considerable lengths to find each of you and bring you here. While digging in some of the posessions that one of my dearly departed relatives left me, I came across evidence that I may be the last living scion of a disgraced Taldan noble House, the Adellas. My relation to them is indirect, to say the least, but when curiosity about the disgrace the family suffered years ago drove me to research my ancestry, I found that there really wasn't much to learn—the Adellas have been pronounced damnatio by the government, and as such, all public and even most private records of the family have been destroyed.
But I did find something—mention of the family’s secure and remote boneyard. So secret and well defended is this Necropolis that it has escaped the damnatio purge. It is known today as the Tomb of the Iron Medusa and is a relatively obscure site.
But I could hire anyone to crack an old tomb. Why you? Well, I believe that the Adellas were framed. Proof of this is nearly impossible to come by due to the aforementioned purge. The only proof left is likely inside that old burial ground.
I ask you to travel to this necropolis and explore it—to seek out the secrets hidden within the Tomb of the Iron Medusa, and to find proof that the rumors about the Adellas’ evil and disgrace were lies. In particular, I feel that the once-famous family sword, the intelligent Infensus Mucro, could be key in exonerating the family’s name.
I feel I must also point out that the vast treasures no doubt contained within the Tomb of the Iron Medusa could make brave adventurers rich, and that aside from the family sword and any proof you can find of falsehoods brought against the Adellas, I have no interest in those treasures—you can keep whatever else you find in the ancient necropolis. After all, I've done quite well for myself without such things.
So, what say you?
The Adellas were an old Taldan noble family who disgraced themselves and were stripped of their title many years ago.
The Adella house symbol was the medusa, said to have been derived from the family’s patriarch, Marcus Junius, who according to stories was so feared by his military subordinates that a mere glance from him would turn an unruly recruit to stone. The three branches of the clan each developed their own variation of this emblem: the howling medusa (Sardisi), the mocking medusa (Voxus), and the cross-eyed medusa (Daellum).
The Adellas house eventually split into three distinct branches that all met their end in a matter of a few years. The first to fall was the Sardisi branch when the last male of that line, Drusus Adella, opened his veins in the bath of a seedy Absolom brothel. His five daughters, who were acutely sensitive to public shame, slew their five noble husbands and fled society in discrace in 4222 AR.
The second was the Voxus branch who withered under a literal civil war between twin brothers Vespacio and Vincenzo, who went so far as to field armies against one another. The crimes of their five murderous cousins may or may not have directly led to the fratricidal feud that dealt utter ruin to the Voxus branch in a single generation.
The third and last branch was the Daellum clan. At first, it seemed likely to weather the ignominious end of their cousins. The cunning and ruthless Bartolomae Adella, who led the Daellums, was an exemplary and highly successful commander in the Taldan military, and for some months it seemed that what had come to be known as the Adella curse had passed this final clan by. Yet Bartolomae went on to suffer a crushing military defeat on the fractious Qadiran frontier. Humiliated to the point of blasphemy (although some held that Bartolomae’s blasphemies were nothing new), he fell on his powerful sword Infensus Mucro in contrition, yet even this act was hardly salve enough to atone for the family’s military failure. Indeed, so appalled was Grand Prince Beldam II by the family’s impressive descent into murder, hubris, and blasphemy that he proclaimed the entire family damnatio—their memory was to be wiped from every public record and monument, and all members stripped forever of noble status.
Silas reaches into his pack, pulling out a pair of tomes. "You know, if you are interested, I think I may be able to find some of the Chronicles of your family, or mentions to them to reconstruct the history. If you expect Infensus Mucro to be in the Tomb, then you must be of the Daellum clan of the Adellas. Very tragic all things considered."
Silas thinks for a moment before getting back on task. "Is there any particular limit of time for this particular excursion to be done? Or are we allowed to do this at our leisure?
I would like the answer, eventually, he laughs, but there is no specific time limit to my request, no.
Kiorecs mind churns for a brief moment, before accepting defeat. He knew nothing of the nobility or said things, his wisdom lay elsewhere.
His eyes almost visibly light up at the thought of exploring a tomb untouched in generations. Wing twitching, he ponders the risks and the rewards.
To whom am I trying to fool, I would go on just the rumor and the chance to exonerate a besmirched name. This might be the big score I'm looking for so Hana and I can start our family!
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"The Tomb of the Iron Medusa?" Kalderasha's cards fall to the floor as he grips the edge of the table, his face gleaming with excitement. "Treasures? History? A damnatio purge? This is positively thrilling!" He begins sweeping up his cards, practically quivering as he does so. "Why are we still sitting around, then?"
Silas nods. "I am certain that we most likely will face traps, and also most likely undead, if a tomb has not been disturbed in that long of a time. Most likely there are other things that we will have to face that we cannot fathom at the moment. Tell me, Master Hanoris, what information have you come across about what may lie before us in the Iron Medusa's tomb?"
Regretably, I have been able to find nothing on the interior of the Necropolis or its defences. However, I do know it was built during Taldor's protracted war with Tar-Baphon, so I suspect the defences will be formidable in both traps and monsters.
Silas nods. "I see. I have read the chronicle of those that went to the City of Golden Death. If Tar-Baphon was involved at the time, then this is going to be a bit more hairy then I originally expected."
He sits, pondering for a moment before looking to his compatriots. "I say we take the needed time to gather together supplies and such, and then we can return and forge our way down to the tomb. What can you tell us of the location of the tomb? Can you give us any idea of its size or scope?"
The tomb is less that and more of a Necropolis. I have only seen it's walls. Grey stone with towers periodically and Medusa heads set into the spaces between towers. All in all, very hard to miss.
Silas nods. "So, how do we get there?"
Dellum lays out detailed directions with clear markers along the way. He's explained it clearly enough that a trade caravan could get there, which is unsurprising given his success as a merchant. Hey lead Northeast in to the foothills of the mountains to a naturally hidden valley in the shadow of an unremarkable mountain.
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Kal sighs, pushing the angel's hand from his head and squeezing it reassuringly. "Ver, it's just a name. The family symbol was a cross-eyed medusa. That's all." He smiles up at the eidolon, his face full of optimism and excitement. "So," he begins, grinning around at the others, "what are we waiting for?"
Silas frowns a moment as he ponders. "I need to make a quick trip to Absalom, pick up a couple items that I will need for our excursion. Since I am fairly certain that neither you, your eidolon, or our winged friend here are probably much capable with traps, I suppose I am going to need gear to deal with those, yes?"
Silas sits back relaxing when they return. "Are we ready to be off then?"
You set out and travel north east about 35 miles. The terrain gets rougher as you go, and the journey takes you the rest of the day plus the morning after. The sun is up and shining when you arrive. It's a beautiful day to rob a tomb.
The necropolis itself sits in a hidden dale in the foothills of the World’s Edge Mountains, surrounded by a 15-foot-high wall made of tightly fitted gray stone blocks. Wider sections resembling castle watchtowers are spaced along the wall. Spaced equally around the wall between these towers are 10-foot- diameter iron discs decorated with the leering medusa face of the Adella family crest. Sturdy vines make for easy climbing (DC 5)
Silas moves up, maintaining concentration on a detect magic spell so he can try and ascertain magical auras in the area, as he hoists himself up the vines.
The ruin as a whole radiates very strong Transmutation magic.
"Sweet Nethys this place is massive, and its practically quivering with magic. He was not kidding when he said that this place was built to last, and build with protections."
Silas looks for the best way to get up and over and climb down to where he can really get a chance to look at the area.
Silas - Vines cover both sides of the wall. Accessing the ruins will be easy.
Snorts from nostrils, stretches wings slightly.
Would anyone care for a lift?
You make a cursory search of the Necropolis, but find nothing that even hints at a door to underground or magical portal of any kind. Coming back to the front again, you notice a small hole at the back of the throat of the center medusa head. It looks like the funerary baton Hanoris provided might fit.
Silas nods. "I do. When you are all ready, I suggest some prepratory incantations and such. Just for safety sake?"
Will have spell list finished up today, before this starts.
Silas inserts the rod. It goes in smoothly and clicks into place. The metal coverings over the medusa's eyes pop o pen to reveal polished, white marble eye balls with painted black irises. As Silas rotates the rod, the eyes move out and in with their sockets. When the eyes cross, and therefor match the House Daellum symbol, a blue light pours from the madusa's mouth and envelops you all. It's intensity is overwhelming.
Silas blinks as he finds himself stuck in this box. He looks about for a moment then thinks to his familiar.
"Fluffy, it is a might bit cramped in here, could you get outside and see what is going on? It feels like stone, so you should be able to earthwalk through it."
Silas sighs for a moment then thinks to the others. "Is everyone else alright? Kal, Kiorec, Veritas? Tell me you are alright."