Toilday, the 21st of Rova, 4718 AR. Sandpoint.
Morning dawns on the small town of Sandpoint, and the citizens of the town are already busy making preparations for tomorrow's Swallowtail Festival, celebrated this year to consecrate the town's newly finished cathedral. It's a a chilly autumn morning, but the sun is out and excitement is in the air.
Spyro steps out into the beautiful morning.
Hmmm, probably should be looking for work but hard to pass up the festivities today. Maybe I can learn something interesting from all the excited people around.
Spyro heads out toward the newly finished cathedral, although rather than going to the building itself he angles to the nearest tavern.
A few people walking around town wave at Spyro as he emerges from his residence and makes his way toward the cathedral, which sits in the part of the town known by residents as "uptown." He angles north down Church Street and makes his way to a sizable tavern and inn. A pair of life-sized deer, carved with painstaking care from white birch, stand astride the entrance, and the sign hanging out front reads "The White Deer." This tavern, much like the cathedral, was rebuilt after a fire destroyed much of this part of town, and now stands three stories.
Only a few people mill about the common room when Spyro enters, though it'll likely be full by the evening. You hear a shout from the kitchen (something about making sure they have enough food for tomorrow's festivities) before a somber Shoanti man walks into the common room. You know him as Garridan Viskalai, owner of the White Deer. He gives you a nod and says "take any seat you want" before dropping his head below the bar to continue his preparations.
"Good morning Garridan. Likely to be a busy day today. I'm still trying to decide if I should help someone prepare or if I should help someone start making profit. Any preference today?"
Money to spend exploring or possible information about that place. Either way should hopefully be a good day.
Without popping up from behind the bar, Garridan shouts to you--not angrily, but so that you can hear.
"Enjoy yourself Spyro, the Swallowtail festival only comes once a year. This is your first, right?"
"That it is. It feels like I have been in Sandpoint for quite a while but really its only a few months. I know the new cathedral is the big ticket item this year, but what is usually celebrated each year? Think there will be a lot of outsiders coming in for the event? And I guess if I am enjoying myself I'll take an ale when you got a free second."
That it is. It feels like I have been in Sandpoint for quite a while but really its only a few months. I know the new cathedral is the big ticket item this year, but what is usually celebrated each year?
"It's really just a way to celebrate this great town of ours. All the taverns bring their best food, merchants sell their wares, and we all come together to enjoy each other. I doubt many outsiders will participate, but you never know.
Garridan looks up as Ashalla walks in.
"Greetings Ashalla, I didn't know you were in town. Here, I have something for you both--Fort Indros Ale from Magnimar. I had it shipped in especially for the celebration."
He pours two mugs of a dark amber ale and slides them across the bar to each of you.
Spyro nods his head at Garridan. He then turns toward Ashalla.
"Cheers and happy Swallowtail Festival! I am relatively new to town and don't think we have met. I'm Spyro. Any big plans for the upcoming celebration?"
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As the mug slides across the bar, Ashalla uses her Telekinesis to continue its momentum and slide it off the table.
The ale spills out, but quickly stops its descent before it splashes on the tavern floor. To Ashalla’s eyes the ale is now held in a pale purple “container” similar in size and shape to the mug Garridan slid to her. However, experience has shown that to everyone else it would appear that the ale was floating in a vaguely glass like shape in thin air.
Ashalla lazily catches the real mug in her hand and sets it back on the bar, as the ale floats up and she grabs it and takes a drink. Her sour mood can’t dampen a hint of a smirk on her lips.
“At least the old slip and spill can still bring a smile to my face .... but I’ll need more than parlor tricks where I’m going...”
”That’s a rather dire way to start off this morning. However that was a pretty fancy trick you pulled off to go with your name that’s not going to be yours much longer. Did you sell your name along with your good spirits? The ale can only fill such a hole so much, but I bet Garridan will keep trying.”
Not exactly how I expected the day to start, but I was hoping for interesting.
After watching Ashalla's "trick," Garridan chuckles softly.
"Never a dull moment with you, eh Ashalla? Anyway, that first one is on the house, but you'll have to pay for any more. And this particular ale is quite expensive. So what'll it be, another of these or something a bit more "drinkable"?"
As Garridan slides another round of Fort Andros Ale across the bar to Ashalla, the doors swing open and a man with a twisted spine and lurching gait, his face badly deformed, walks into the bar.
"Aye Garridan, 'appy Swallowtail's Eve to ya. All ready for the big day tomorra?" he asks in a croaking voice that fits his features well.
"Indeed, my friend, indeed," Garridan responds. "Always a good time, though I have to admit, Ameiko always has me a bit stressed out before events like this. I can't let her show me up too badly!"
The "Ameiko" Garridan is referring to is Ameiko Kaijitsu, the owner of the Rusty Dragon Inn, a local competitor.
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Ashalla grabs the new mug and quickly drains this one also. She finally feels some of the weight she has been carrying by herself lighten. Ashalla knows this is only a temporary respite, but welcomes it all the same. She notes the misshapen man, but turns to Garridan.
”So what’s the deal with this festival anyway? I know y’all are proud of the your Citadel, but seems like a little bit of overkill to celebrate this much for a building. Even a holy building.”
”Might be a little overkill but might as well enjoy it! Although it looks like I’m already falling behind in the enjoyment department this morning.”
Spyro takes a much more casual sip of his ale.
"So what’s the deal with this festival anyway? I know y’all are proud of the your Citadel, but seems like a little bit of overkill to celebrate this much for a building. Even a holy building.”
Though you weren't speaking to him, the deformed man speaks up before Garridan can.
"Overkill? After what we've been through? No, this is a time for great celebration! Sarenrae and the other Sandpoint gods will be with us all these few days!
The man then jumps as if he's just remembered something, and turns toward the door.
"I've forgotten to ring the bells! Better hurry!"
Garridan chuckles as the man leaves.
"Don't mind him; I've always found that those who find religion later in life are the most fanatical. But he does have a point; the fire that destroyed the old cathedral--and my old tavern--was quite the tragedy. Hopefully this festival and the consecration of the new cathedral can put that all to rest."
Seriosly? The guy with a physical disformaty rings the tower bells? Hahaha come on pathfinder.
"How was this fire started any how?”
"No one's really sure, but it definitely started at the cathedral. Burned up a few homes too, and my inn of course. The old priest, Father Tobyn, and his adopted daughter Nualia both died in the fire."
As Garridan finishes speaking, you hear the sound of the cathedral bells marking noon.
Ashalla comes to a set of ancient ruins rising up from sea level and built into the face of a cliff near the edge of the town. Though destroyed and likely nowhere near as tall as it once was, the ruined tower still stands 50 feet above the edge of the cliff. Ashalla walks among the ruins for a while, wondering intently at what it might have been and who might have built it. So engrossed in thought, she doesn't notice anyone else around until she hears a soft voice.
"Quite a sight, isn't it? Did you know that it once stood well over 700 feet tall? Can you even imagine?"
Turning toward the source of the voice, Ashalla notices an older, balding man with the distinct look of a scholar. A cat sits curled up near his feet.
Spyro leaves the tavern shortly after Ashalla and walks around town for a while to enjoy the weather. When evening hits he makes his way back to the White Deer for another round.
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Completely caught off guard by the strange man, Ashalla whips around raising her left hand and, telekinetically pulling out one of her boomerangs, readies to whip it at the disturbance. Catching herself at the last moment, she still keeps the weapon floating at the ready.
“What are you doing here? Why would you sneak up on me like that? I could have just smashed your face in!”
The older man chuckles.
"Well, I suppose you may have done just that, but you didn't, and for that I am grateful. As for sneaking, I don't believe I did that at all; I've learned that sneaking is not my forte. But I am a scholar, and have been studying these ruins for many months. So I think my question to you is: what are you doing here?"
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Telepathically sheathing her boomerang, Ashalla notes the scholars harmless appearance .
“No, I guess you wouldn’t be sneaking.”
Still feeling the effects of the strong ales Ashalla continues.
“700ft. tall? How is that even possible? Not that it much matters I guess. It’s gone now. But, are you just here researching it’s supposed height? It was just a lighthouse right?”
"Not just its height, no. This ruin dates from the time of the ancient Thassilonians, nearly 10,000 years ago.
"Most believe it to be a simple lighthouse, yes; this comes from the markings you see here," he says as he gestures to a set of engravings in the wall that you had missed before. You now see them scattered all over the ruined walls.
"These markings are Thassilonian as well, and they seem to indicate that this structure was once crowned by a very bright light, which is where the lighthouse theory comes from. But I have a different theory. As I said, I've been studying this ruin quite extensively for months now, and I believe it was actually a war machine of sorts. If my theory is correct, this tower could spew fire to distances of over a mile!"
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Ashalla is, surprisingly, genuinely impressed and curious at the scholars words.
When was the last time I felt genuine curiosity? Hasn’t been much time for anything but training in, it seems like forever....
“A weapon like that would be formidable indeed, but even that was destroyed by something seemingly even more powerful.... if this theory of yours is correct.”
Ashalla pauses for a few seconds.
He’s a scholar.... what could it hurt.
“Have you ever heard of anything or anyone called Rappan Athuk?”
Without hesitating, the man speaks.
"Oh yes, I've heard of Rappan Athuk, certainly I have. Do you have time for a quick story?"
He continues without pausing for an answer.
"Many hundreds of years ago, the forces of good allied to destroy the main Temple of Orcus in the ancient city of Tsar. With their temple in ruins, the surviving high priests of this accursed demon-god fled the city with an army of enemies on their trail - an army of heroic fighters, clerics, and paladins - led by Zelkor, a powerful wizard. The exact fate of these evil priests was then unknown, for not only did the remnants of the followers of Orcus disappear from all human reckoning, but so did the army of light that followed after them disappear as well. Some said that in the eternal scales, the loss of so many good men was a fair price to pay to rid the world of so much evil.
"The evil cult, however, had not been destroyed. The surviving priests and their followers instead settled on a hill not far from here, near what is now the Lost Coast Road. There they found a vast underground complex of caverns and mazes, carving out a volcanic intrusion beneath the hill. There, the priests of Orcus found the perfect lair to continue their vile rituals. For many years, they carried on in secret, hidden from the light and from the knowledge of men.
"Many years later, their underground delving completed, the evil priests erected a hideous mausoleum and a sunken graveyard atop the hill. It is believed that these graves are in fact the final resting place of the pursuing army of heroes that had been destroyed to a man. Soon after the mausoleum was erected, the peaceful creatures of the surrounding area began to disappear. Though many rangers and druids investigated these happenings, the cause of the creatures' disappearance was not immediately determined. Some years later, a powerful group of adventurers, led by Bofred, a high priest of Iomedae, investigated the evil happenings and found the sunken graveyard leading to a layrinthine complex. Bofred and his companions found great hordes of evil creatures in the complex. Though some of his companions returned from their expedition, telling tales of fantastic treasure and ferocious monsters, Bofred was never seen again - lost in the catacombs beneath the cursed mausoleum.
"For the last hundred years, ranks of adventurers have ventured to the newfound dungeon. Many fell prey to bandits and monsters in the surrounding wilderness. Rumors suggest that of those who survived to reach the mausoleum and sunken graveyard, most were slain by guardians of green stone or perished on the very first level. Those rare few who return from deeper treks speak of horrible undead and creatures that cannot be slain. All who have explored Rappan Athuk offer this one universal piece of advice: Don't go down the Well."
As if coming out of a reverie, the older man regains focus and speaks in a more normal tone.
"The mausoleum is actually quite close by, some 25 miles or so south of here, on the way back to Magnimar. I've seen it from a distance, but never ventured too close; it's far too dangerous for the likes of me."
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Ashalla could never have imagined obtaining this amount of information this quickly. An evil cult? Horrible dangers? And it sounded like a fair few of adventurers had already already entered and fallen at this mausoleum. She felt slightly embarrassed that this was apparently not a deep dark mystery location.
Well at least I now know that this ‘Rappan Athuk’ is a place.
Composing herself as much as possible considering what she had heard.
“Do you know any specifics about the types of dangers that I could be.... I mean that one could face going into the place? What types of Horrible Monsters? Guardian’s of Green Stone? Like a type of stone golem? What kind of creatures can’t be slain?”
Slightly nervous at her slip of the tongue, the older man recovers quickly and laughs.
"Like I said, I wouldn't know anything specific; I've avoided Rappan Athuk as best as I could. I would do the same if I were you, unless you want an early death. But I can't imagine you'd be foolish enough to do that anyway. I'm Brodert Quink, by the way."
He reaches out a hand to shake.
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Slightly nervous at her slip of the tongue, the older man recovers quickly and laughs.
Ashalla distractedly takes his hand.
“Ashalla. Enjoy the rest of your study. I hope you find what your looking for.”
As she turns to walk away she mutters.
“Well, it sounds like we were at least right about one thing... I am probably going to die.”
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Ashalla wanders through the city thinking on what she has learned and planning on what to do next. The city grows more and more crowded as the day goes on. Someone shouts ‘beware’ from one of the alleys, but is gone by the time Ashalla looks. Without meaning to, Ashalla ends up back at the White Deer. It’s now evening. She looks at it for a few seconds, then enters.
As predicted, the White Deer is nearly full when you return in the evening; people seem to have started the Swallowtail festivities early. A musician is playing upbeat songs while patrons eat, drink, and dance to their hearts content.
You recognize a few notable people at the White Deer, though there are many others who you don't recognize:
Father Zanthus, Sandpoint's priest and proprietor of the new cathedral
Mayor Kendra Deverin, mayor of Sandpoint
Titus Scarnetti, head of one of the four founding families of Sandpoint who controls all of the mills and lumber yards in Sandpoint
Noticing Ashalla renter the bar, Spyro goes to join her at her table.
”Couldn’t help but notice you trying to avoid everyone. Figured that was a good sign you needed another one of these.”
Spyro slides Ashalla another ale.
”What are you working on that is so important to distract from tonight’s festivities?”
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Ashalla glances up and sees the half-elf from earlier in the day. She continues to write. She takes a few sips of the ale and then looks up.
“Imagine you just learned the most important information of your life, not just for you, but for your friends and family. And imagine that you aren’t sure if your going to live out the week. What would you do? I’m writing all the information I can down and ensuring it gets to the next up.”.
Taking another sips she thinks At this point, what could it hurt any longer?
“Tell me, have you ever heard of the ‘Rappan Athuk’“
Spyro’s eyes light up at the mention of Rappan Athuk.
”Wait, you know about Rappan Athuk? How do you know about that place? I guess I should clarify. I don’t actually know all that much myself but I have been trying to learn more. You see, I have to explore it. Not that I really understand why, but I was pulled to this place. All I know is it might involve dragons.”
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Ashalla stops writing, puts the quill down, and looks at Spyro.
Two in one day... this can not be a coincidence. What is going on?
“I have been searching for information about Rappan Athuk for most of my life. Today I met a scholar who gave me information regarding this..... place. Now you know of this place as well? And dragons on top of everything!”
Ashalla relates the information the scholar gave her to Spyro.
”Seems like we should get a closer look ourselves. What are you doing tomorrow?”
[b]”Cool will that be happening at Rappan Athuk or are you going off on some other melodramatic issue? It’s kinda hard to follow your thought process or get a read on you.”[\b]
Not sure if this is the help I was looking for, but at least she is crazy enough to come with me.
”Well then, tomorrow, let’s make some bad life decisions.”
Spyro downs his ale much quicker than he had earlier that day.