Official game play for the scenario
That which has come before:
Part I: When simultaneous kidnappings of Pathfinder and Aspis Consortium agents rocked Cassomir's Imperial Naval Shipyards, the Society ordered a team to join forces with hated Aspis agents to solve the mystery. Working together with the enemies of the Society to uncover the source of the kidnappings, the team solved the case, only to unveil a deeper threat...
Part II: The Pathfinder Society dispatched a team to the catacombs called Cassomir's Locker to find the source of a rat cult breeding monstrous vermin. After clearing Cassomir's dank sewers and delving into the dirty dungeons below, and saved the important port by discovering the artifact to blame.
Part III: ...and here we are.
You find yourself in Cassomir, some of you, for the first time. Cassomir is located at the mouth of the Sellen River, and is the second largest settlement in the empire of Taldor. It acts as a major trade city, and through its ports enter goods from the Inner Sea, as well as from nations to the north that utilize the Sellen as a trade route. Cassomir is also home to the greatest of Taldor's imperial shipyards, even though the majority of the fleet itself is stationed in Oppara. For the halflings in the party, Cassomir is a welcomed sight. No other cosmopolitan area has a large a population of the short folk.
The Pathfinder Lodge is decorated in typical Taldan opulence. Venture-Captain Hestia Themis, a petite, raven-haired, black-eyed Taldan beauty, paces her office while addressing the six of you.
"“I am perplexed. A new kidnapping spree plagues my beloved city. It seems our citizens make easy prey to those who profit from such exploits. While this disturbs me, I am more troubled by reports that some of those kidnapped return to the city as undead monsters who accompany this Cult of Nature’s Cataclysm plague*, a plague that I can’t seem to excise from my beloved city."
“This ends now! For a third time we battle Groetus-worshiping dogs and there will not be a fourth!” Taking several deep breaths, Hestia regains her composure. “I am sending you to Swift Prison to interrogate a cultist we captured who was trying to kidnap a local engineer. Meet my man Garver out front—he’ll take you in to see the Nature’s Cataclysm fool. Find out where the other cultists hide, where they’ve taken their recent victims, and how they’re turning them into skeletons. Free as many Cassomir citizens as you can—the good publicity never hurts. Any questions?”
The VC, while clearly agitated, doesn't seem to mind as you each read over missives sent to you.:
creatures called mites during your previous exploits. If you happen to see more of those abused mites, free them and ask one to send the enclosed missive to their leader. I am giving you a sealed envelope. Find a mite and make sure he escapes with it.
I’m going to tell you something your fellow Pathfinders may not know—Dalirio Teppish is not dead. It seems the derros brought him back as something other than human (we are not sure what that something is); by all accounts of my extensive network in Cassomir, it appears that he’s kidnapping Taldor’s citizens and turning them into an army of undead to exact revenge on the city. While we don’t necessarily like the idea of Dalirio succeeding, our hope that Taldor will rise against its masters and join Andoran in freedom outweighs our concerns about Dalirio’s doings. Should you find any physical evidence of his plan, destroy it. I do not want Taldor to know how close they came to the end.
-Major Colsin Maldris
Additionally, I have heard rumors that your Cassomir enemy, Dalirio Teppish, might actually be alive. Since I have it on good authority that he was killed, it’s likely that he’s been brought back from the dead as an undead servant of Cassomir’s derro infestation. Should this prove to be true, bring me Dalirio’s head—I would know what he’s become, and how.
-Ambrus Valsin
Swift Prison: Swift Prison’s prisoners must pay fees for lodging and favorable treatment. These payments even include a “chains tax,” requiring a prisoner to pay 5 sp each month to avoid being shackled. Swift Prison has an unusual policy in which non-violent criminals who pay for the privilege are allowed to roam the streets surrounding the prison, so long as do not cross the invisible boundary known as the “Rules of the Swift” (which is what the prison calls the invisible boundary that surrounds the prison). Prisoners who cross this boundary are put to death when recaptured—very few have broken those rules in the prison’s history. The wardens of the Swift are notorious for allowing unusual privileges in exchange for exorbitantly high sums. Prisoners who pay these extortions earn the right to reside in one of the Swift’s private apartments. Rich prisoners may also purchase the “Liberties of the Swift,” the right to walk the prison grounds and surrounding city streets freely. Wardens of the Swift are often replaced after being caught abusing their posts for personal gain.
Groetus: Is the God of the Apocolypse. His moon overlooks the Boneyard awaiting the End Times. His cultists always assume the End is Nigh. They tend to be more than willing to fight to the death because of it.
VC Themis: "When? There's little rhyme or reason to when beyond, "not during the day". What worries me, is the who. They're all engineers, masons, city planners, etc. Fifteen in all.
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Hack grumbles Hrm, that does sound pretty suspicious, like they're being targeted. Hey...I wonner if they'd go after a miner! Hack shifts his grip on his newly-enchanted axe and touches his miner's pick.
The grizzled dwarf gives each of his previous--now current--companions, shaking the newcomer's hand. Howdy there, Evan. Name's Harnac Lucridious. Call me Hack, Luc, Hal, whatever. The resta these folks be men...and wolves!... he adds, ruffing Grip's ears with familiarity ...I'd trusted me life to already, an' proud ta do so again.
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Sumac heartilly introduces himself to Evan (he seems thrilled to have a third halfling in the party), and begins rattling off rapidly in the halfling tongue. From his leathers, furs, holly and mistletoe at the shoulder, and sickle at the hip, it is obvious to all that Sumac is a druid. He even introduces the large wolf behind him as Grip or Gripper.
Sumac though enjoying some solitude between adventures is pleased to see his comrades. After admiring Harnacs enchanted axes he shows the dwarf his magical sling staff and gives him a knowing smile for all the skulls they will soon be busting. The small druid is clearly upset over this unatural cult and the abomination of undead they bring about the land.
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"Another halfling in the company?! Let's make sure that we keep our celebrating to a minimum and we stay on task trying to complete this mission."
""When? There's little rhyme or reason to when beyond, "not during the day". What worries me, is the who. They're all engineers, masons, city planners, etc. Fifteen in all.
"Engineers?! I hate the thought that they're simply trying to kill the designers! I use to think that was the easy part of making a living!"
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If no one has any further questions, Fel takes the lead and heads out to find Garver. The group maintains a watchful eye out for any cultists, engineers or skeletons en route to the prison. They redouble their vigilance as they cross the "Rules of the Swift" and the possibility of encountering dangerous criminals increases.
Fel, even though you masterfully explore the social eddies and currents, you learn that no one has any information, either because the abductions are recent and word hasn't spread here, or because someone is keeping them quiet... Eventually, however, the party arrives at the Swift:
Swift Prison’s formidable gates loom over those who pass beneath them. Out front, a gilded statue stares uncaringly at those who serve time beyond her sentry-like gaze. The wrinkled, dirty faces of Cassomir’s prisoners are briefly illuminated behind the bars of the ground floor begging cells. Their pathetic drone as they beg for coppers fills the courtyard in front of the prison. Hestia’s man, Garver—a tall Taldan man with a slim physique and plain peasant’s clothing—approaches. “You made it. Good. Follow me.” Garver turns and enters the prison, marching through myriad hallways that twist and turn and finally end at a plain but thick wooden door. Garver produces a key and says, “Our captured cultist enjoys visitors, and if you like his work, it’s all for sale.”
There's nothing visible beyond the gate other than steps down.
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"Hello guys... I happened to be in the area, and would love to help out with this. Desna brought me here, and I think I can do some good!"
"Well met, Evan! I don't believe I've ever met you before. I am Azdak Ejderha at your service. But please, just call me Azdak. I cannot tell you how pleased I am to have somebody close to the ways of Desna accompanying us. We can always use a little luck, sometimes even a lot of luck!"
As Fel leads the company onward, Azdak looks around cautiously with his hand checking to see that he can reach for his wand easily, should the need arise.
I sure hate the thought of being locked up down here!
"Lead us down the stairs, Fel. We are right behind you."
Azdak also looks at the engineering and the structure of place.
The building itself is fairly fortified, but the manner in which in which it is run has more to do with escape likelihood.
You are led through the door and down several stone steps into a dingy, shadowed room with three cells. Garver gives the two guards there some coins and they head back up the stairs, closing the door behind them. In the center cell, covered in paint, a man dressed in torn beggar’s rags, his feet shackled to the floor by a 3-foot length of chain, throws color onto a dirty canvas. The man stops painting at your arrival, looks through the bars, and exclaims with a toothless grin, “For you, my master, always for you!” He then lays the painting atop a small pile of recent works and sets up another blank canvas, madly attacking it with his brush.
The painter looks at you and shouts, "FOR MY MASTER!". It might take a bit of soothing and decompression to get inside his head.
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"Good Sir! Those Paintings are incredible!" Fel marvels over them. "Your master must really enjoy these monuments of devotion towards him!"
Fel continues prattling on, offering insights on the religious significance of the art and the confusing, often contradictory logic of artistic criticism. He tries with all of his considerable rhetorical skill to bamboozle, befuddle and ultimately befriend the crazed cultist.
Fel bluffs,
using his
in order to soothe the man and Diplomatically shift his position.
With the bard's honeyed tongue, the painter sees clearly, even if only for a short while. “Friends! Did the Master send you? Yes, he must have. Praised be he who ends the days! Do you seek my secret? Soon enough—but in return I ask something from you. You must give it to me as I need it to complete my collection.” He points to two paintings hung in a shadowy corner of his cell. A third canvas hangs next to them but is blank. “If you go outside this very prison you’ll find a statue covered in gold. You may have already seen her! Describe this statue to me in exquisite detail and I will tell you all I know.”
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"The request certainly seems reasonable." Azdak remarks as he departs with Sumac to investigate the statue. As he returns outside, the sorcerer comments. "What do you think the significance of the statue is? You don't think it is some ploy to help him escape do you?"
When Azdak reaches the outside he looks for the statue and once found, gazes upon it intently, trying to remember every subtle detail he can.
Once he thinks he has memorized the details, he returns to the prison cell of the cultist.
Azdak gets a solid look at the statue mentioned by the painter. The statue sits just outside of the prison’s gates, its golden form shining brightly in the sun. It stands just over 7 feet tall and rests atop a 3-foot-tall stone base. The statue depicts a curvy Taldan female with short hair and wearing flowing robes open at the neck. She regards the viewer with a blank, uncaring expression. Faint moons decorate her flowing robes, and she crushes a set of scales beneath her left foot. Close inspection reveals that the sculptor left his mark on his work of art—he carved a small letter “I” into her left foot.
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What does Fel know about the significance of this statue from a local, religious or historical perspective?
[dice=Know: Local]1d20+9
[dice=Know: Religion]1d20+9
[dice=Know: History]1d20+9[dice=Know: Arcana]1d20+5 Can providing him a description and allowing him to paint it cause mayhem or cause something awful to happen?
Fel shares what he knows with his companions (no spoiler needed)
Fel leans in to share with you all, this statue is....extremely unimportant. Nobles in Taldor are like cats in the slums (as an Andoran would say, they're loud, smelly, ubiquitous, and like to breed.) Why he cares about this statue is beyond any of you. Fel is extra sure that there isn't any kind of iconography hidden in the work. It's just simply, unremarkable.
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Looking at the statue, Orryn whispers to the two other halflings again.Who is it this statue is depicting?
Sumac shrugs his shoulders, Beats me. he replys in halfling. I like her curves and ample chest, but her strange stare and crushing the scales are a little off putting. Like she is trying to stamp out equality and justice. Or maybe she just really hates merchants and thier little money scales?
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Fel and Azdak will describe the statue in exquisite detail to the cultist IF he agrees to give actionable information on the kidnappings. If he refuses, the pair make ready to walk away.
[Dice=bluff] 1d20+11
Not trying to leave out the others from the "halfling pow wow", Sumac switches back to common and joins in to the others conversation. He agrees that Fel and Azdaks plan sounds good.
Then with an idea he asks if anyone has some spare paper or parchment. Sumac pulls a small piece of charcoal from a pouch and takes a rubbing from the statue of the faint moon designs and the I inscription. He then gives it to Fel to use in his negotiations.
Considering the amount Fel complimented his style coupled with the deft use of skill, the painter is more than happy to comply.
He ignores you for a spell, taking the description and painting, but he does speak, like he's gathering his thoughts. "The master. The MASTER. Dwells in the maze, the tunnels, the labrynthe. No one knows the way, the Hall of Wonders, they know the way, it is THERE. Seek them, ask them for the way to the master."
The painting completes as he does... It's disturbing. It shows a twisted perspective. The once-beautiful statue stares back transformed, her visage twisted into a demonic snarl. Short humanoids with large, black eyes torment cowering prisoners in the painting’s background. Brandishing a radiant holy symbol, a lone figure fails to fight them off.
you get simultaneous reactions;
Guard: "I'm sure we can arrange for something of that nature."
The Painter: "NO! The Master! No! I must stay here. I must finish these!!!!"
the painter's temporary lucidity crumbles as he waves his arms frantically over the array of art work.