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Z'hor'll walks somberly up to the dais, and lays the magnificent shield upon the coffin. He takes stock of the crowd, and begins his speech.
"I never had the chance to meet Lady Zarmina. However, her influence has broad reaching in the Pathfinder Society. One of our patrons, the Trade Prince Aaqir al’Hakam. She drove al’Hakam to become the shrewd trader that he is today, driving him to gain the eye of the satrap, being honored as a Trade Prince, and taking over leadership of Qadiran interests within the Pathfinder Society.
"It is through her teachings that Trade Prince al’Hakam has been able to expand his trade empire across the Inner Sea, and throughout Avisastan and Garund. To this day, her protegé, Trade Prince al’Hakam works towards expanding trade, with honor and virtue. Free Trade is the force that drives all growth, and the Pathfinder Society is willing to trade with any and all partners, to the betterment of all. We wish to hold no partner hostage for their past failings, but strive to help others pick themselves up by their own bootstraps, much like Lady Zarmina did with Trade Price al’Hakam.
"Good trading, dear departed Lady Zarmina! With your prowess in trade and virtue, I fear that the Lord of the First Vault will need be cautious, lest you trade his empire out from underneath him!"
As the speeches conclude and the sun approaches the horizon, its red light illuminating the room in crimson hues, Umut orates a closing prayer, "Oh mistress of the graves, may you welcome Zarmina to your bosom." The cleric finishes by brushing her lips against Zarmina’s forehead, whispers an inaudible message, and then brushes her hands gently down the bZarmina’s face as if closing her eyes forever.
Several servants gather the gifts and quickly exit the room. From behind them, the Mulāzim whispers, "Umut the cleric has just informed Aaqir al’Hakam that she is leaving to prepare the mausoleum for the interment. Aaqir requests that the guests remain here in the temple before they
carry the body to the graveyard." As the Mulāzim concludes, the Pathfinders can see the guests rise and linger around the aisles. At the back of the room, drinks have been lined up. One after another glide back to grab a drink.
After a few minutes, Jakti al’Awar proposes everyone raise a glass and toast Aaqir al’Hakam. “And may our hosts carry on the legacy of the departed, may Sarenrae see her safely to Nirvana and its city of High Ninshabur.”
As Jakti finishes his heartfelt speech, the congregated turn as one to the bier where they see the dead form of Zarmina sit up, turn towards them, and effortlessly tear its way out of its shroud.
Party is up
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"What in the name of the Lady of Graves?"
Z'hor'll composes himself, and begins his inspirational speech by citing the sixth Act of Iomedae. "After the Whispering Tyrant used magic to break her sword, she fused it together with a prayer and an oath to bring an end to his evil, her pure heart and righteous ire reforging it in an instant."
"Strike true, Pathfinders, and return this troubled soul to her lasting peace!"
Seeing his supposed dead mentor arise from the grave, Aaqir utters an inhuman cry He crumples to the floor, while patrons begins screaming and hustling to and fro, the Mulāzim and a handful of servants begin to usher the guests out of the temple.
Aaqir looks up, "Whatever that is, that is not my mentor. Pathfinders, destroy that abomination as we move the merchants to safety." He quickly regains his composure and shuffles people out.
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Mind drifting and eyes wandering to watch the folk milling about, the scream from Aaqir rips his attention to the front. Slow to react, Sun shouts out to anyone that will listen. "Somebody get Umut back here!". Sun pulls three stones out of his belt pouch and raises them into the sky clenched in his fist. Lightning arcs up his arm and into his fist as he mutters under his breath in Druidic.
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"What the heck is that!!" Tiberius shouts, startled by the events. Ok, Tiberius... First real battle... No pressure, just keep calm...
The Varisian wiggles his fingers, trying to shake away the sudden sweat. He prepares an incantation in his mind, ready to cast it if the late Zarmina comes on offensive.
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Arthrax listens to his companions, then hears the words of the Trade Prince. He does not offer anything back but a nod, moving forth while drawing his axe. Not wanting to take the time to don his shield, he grips the weapon with both hands, preparing to deliver a terrific blow should the creature come near.
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Methodios looks hard at Zarmina to determine exactly what she might be. While doing so, Methodios draws his longbow repositions himself slightly and fires a shot at the (presumably) undead abomination.
Now this, this is something I'm good at!
[dice=Longbow, studied target]1d20+3+1
[dice=Longbow arrow, studied target]1d8+1
Methodios looks hard at Zarmina to determine exactly what she might be. While doing so, Methodios draws his longbow repositions himself behind the others and makes ready to fire at the (presumably) undead abomination.
Now this, this is something I'm good at!
As Zarmina rises to her feet, Tiberius sends bolts of arcane energy straight into her chest. Not uttering a single grunt of pain, she stumbles as the bolts hit her square in the chest. The Pathfinders can see scorch marks as they enter her body, but she retains her somewhat stable footing. As she approaches them, the Pathfinders nearest her can feel a hot wind blow that can only be described as oppressive. All the alcohol they have consumed immediately sweats through their body and they begin to physically ache for water as the heat overcomes them.
Wiping their brow, Sun and Athrax retain their footing and fight off the heats ill effects. Tiberius however feels it full force.
Zarmina <= needs a breath mint
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Methodios takes a while to size up the vulnerable point. Deciding that the heart is the best thing to go for, he adjusts his stance and attempts the more difficult shot.
Not quite sure if the arrow connected or not, he drops the bow and draws his silver lucerne hammer , stepping up next to Arthrax to withstand her inevitable charge.
Bot, rotation and potratization achieved
Methodios's arrow flies true, and lodges in her left shoulder drawing no blood. As he next steps up next to the ax-wielding human, he feels waves of heat roll over him in a crashing wave. The heat distracts the Pathfinder from noticing that the arrow doesn't pierce her skin like it should, only shallowly lodging in her.
As he drops his bow, he quickly loses breath, and while readying his hammer, he fells the weight of it more than ever before.
A fatigued character can neither run nor charge and takes a –2 penalty to Strength and Dexterity. Doing anything that would normally cause fatigue causes the fatigued character to become exhausted. After 8 hours of complete rest, fatigued characters are no longer fatigued.
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Z'hor'll switches to the holy words of the Dawnflower, boldly stating, "The best battle is a battle I win. If I die, I can no longer fight. I will fight fairly when the fight is fair, and I will strike quickly and without mercy when it is not."
Certain that he doesn't want this fight to be fair, he decides that Zarmina needs to be on her back, and so uses his SLA hydraulic push to trip.
"Maybe I should have said it, not sprayed it! Ha ha!"
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"Ugh... So thirsty.." Tiberius turns visibly ill all of a sudden. The heat emanating from the undead Trade Princess is rough for the weak Varisian body. Finding it difficult to concentrate, Tiberius switches to easiest magical attack he knows, one that he learned from a street peddler in Riddleport.
With these words of magic, a missile of force departs from Tiberius' fingers, and strikes the undead enemy.
Arthrax rushes forward and swings his axe splitting Methodio's arrow shaft in two. Zarmina shoulder is opened in a wide gash, but she still lumbers forward. Sun's magic stone fly over her head, and Z'hor'll's wave passes harmlessly by.
Z'hor'll, entering the heat wave caused by Zarmina attempts to fend off the oppressive heat.
And is over come.
Tiberius's arcane bolts once again scorch her chest opening new smoldering holes..
Eyes focused on the one whose axe bit deep into her, she attacks
Arthrax, swinging both fists over her head and bringing them down in a powerful arc.
Both fists connect, reeling the axe-wielding human.
Everyone is up
***** EDITED to reflex the next post *******
Fighting the oppressive heat, Tiberius & Methodios struggle on.
Methodios overcomes the heat, and pushes forward, his hammer ready to deliver a killing strike, while Tiberius once more struggles in the heat.
Methodios and Athrax, instantly forming a bond, weave around Zarmina. Arthrax's axe swings wide as he still reels from the powerful blow she seems to have given him. However, Methodios' hammer finds it mark crushing in her already wounded shoulder.
She staggers, but remains upright until Tiberius' missile again finds it mark, burning straight through her chest.
Wavering, she points toward the door way where all the merchants are assembled, and rasps, "” before crumpling to dust.
The Pathfinders immediately feel the heat dissipate as quickly as it came, yet Methodios, Tiberius, and Z'hor'll still real from its effects.
Aaqir strides in, still visibly shaken at what has just occurred. "Well done Pathfinders. You have my eternal gratitude. As a token of my appreciation, please accept these gifts." He hands the Pathfinders three scrolls.
"I hate to ask you more than you have already done, but while I send in servants to clean ... this temple, can you please escorts the merchants to their apartments. Sweep the manor when you do this. I fear more enemies will appear." He shakes his head in disbelief at what has just occurred.
Surprise clouding his face, Aaqir turns towards the Undine. "That is a bold accusation. Zarmina’s will specified that her old friend Umut Tepemkau should be the one to oversee her burial. It is against everything that I knew about Zarmina to request a cleric of Pharasma to preside over her funeral only to raise her as an undead. That is completely against their teachings, as if you didn't already know.
Come, let us get these merchants to safety and make sure these apartments are safe."
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Yawning with near exhaustion, Methodios tries to shrug the heat from his bones. Giving up, he pulls out a wand and passes it to Sun so that the druid may at the least take care of the spreading heat rash.
"Let's see who needs looking after," Methodios picks up his longbow, and re-holsters his lucerne hammer.
Methodios looks around for his arrow, , and retrieves it from the re-dead corpse. With his equipment in check, Methodios will help whoever needs helping back to their rooms. He will keep an eye out for any suspicious behavior.
Methodios looks around for his arrow, [dice=50% recovery, low is good]1d100, and retrieves it from the re-dead corpse.
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"Ladies and gentlemen..." Tiberius addresses the merchants, "Please follow us to your accommodation. This wake took quite a surprising turn, so we'll see you to safety." His words might be confident, but the man has looked better. Still sweating heavily, the Varisian breaths heavily and is on the verge of collapse.
"I could really use a drink right now!"
Aaqir nods in thanks to the Pathfinders that agreed to escort the merchants to their quarters.
After Tiberius has shushed the crowd, and given his directions, groups of merchants begin to exit at the four exits located in the hallway.
Passad moves towards exit #1, Doritannia moves towards exit #3, Metella moves towards exit #2, and Pellius moves towards exit # 4. Jakti and his two bodyguards seem to linger, not really moving towards any exits.
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Having only struck up any kind of friendship with Metalla and Pellius, and since Metalla seems enamored with their druid, Methodios moves over to Pellius.
"Perhaps you would like some company back to your room, Mister Melkior," Methodios says to the Andoran, "After all, with the poor late Trade Princess risen from the dead, some protection might be in order. Otherwise, it could be pleasant just to walk and chat. Tell me, what do you know of the natives in this region? I would love to swap stories - especially local legends."
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Noting what Methodios is doing, Arthrax makes for Doritannia, and why not? She was a nice-looking woman, and perhaps might look favorably upon the gentleman who hooked her up with a better deal. And they were headed to her room...she might be in need of comfort...
The warrior shakes his head, chuckling at himself before he stands by the merchant, "I would be pleased to escort you to your chambers, Lady."
The Pathfinders wisely decide to split the party after the shocking resurrection of Zarmina. Confident that there are no other undead roaming the hallways, or merely overconfident in their abilities, each takes a merchant by the elbow and promenades towards the apartments.
Pellius and Methodios become fast friends, comparing recent conquests.
Arthrax makes an inappropriate pass at Doritannia, something about cleavage and puppies under a blanket, earning him a slap in the face abd a peck on the cheek.
Sun and Metalla reminisce about their river cruise, and how much fun they had and what a tool Passad is.
Passad, sulking at geting picked last, finally gets picked up by Z'hor'll and his physical comedy. The Undine tries to make the best of a bad situation as he escorts Passad to his room.
Tiberius stands awkwardly by Jakti and his two bodyguards.
"Pathfinder, no need. I have all the protection I need." Jakti and his entourage make their way off, Tiberius if left wondering what to do.
[spoiler=GM rolls]
Unbelievable, nothing happens. As they make their way to their own apartments, a servant approaches Arthax.
"Sir, for you." He quickly hands him a note
A simliar servant approaches Tiberius and hands him a note.
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Well, at least there was the peck on the cheek, that's a start. Arthrax rubs his face, grinning, as he meets up with the other Pathfinders.
"I called it, with Doritannia! Although I was wrong about a couple of extracurricular things. No matter! This ought to seal an alliance with the Trade Prince, if he desires."
"This business with Jakti is strange. Let us go to the temple, but be wary..."
After a brief discussion, the Pathfinders decide to return to the temple. As they make their way through the manor, the hallways are eerily empty. They reach the temple and see Jakti and his two bodyguards are waiting for them. The servants have since cleaned up the worst of the mess from the earlier combat, and Jakti is now wearing a scimitar at his side. He regards the Pathfinders with a smile and waves for his guards to stand outside the door to ensure a measure of privacy.
“I was uncertain if you were trustworthy enough to share this information with, but now I see that you are most competent individuals and I believe you can help. Some days ago I received information from… a trusted source… that a someone has hired several assassins in Katheer for a job this very night. This manor has one of the greatest gatherings of powerful people in the entire city, so I can only conclude that these assassins are meant to strike here. With that knowledge, I hired a few bodyguards for myself, but it would allay my fears if I to have your protection as well. Of course, you may seek to protect everyone in the manor, and I would applaud you for such commitment to righteousness! I will be satisfied if no harm comes to my person before this night is over, whatever the circumstances. Do this for me, and I would greatly consider dealing with such competent individuals in the near future.”
As the Pathfinder mull over Jakti's request, a cloud "" can be heard form the hallway. The Pathfinder, along with Jakti open the door and emerge into complete chaos. Undead are swarming through the hallways, and up the stairs.
Jakti immediately shouts, "Hakim and Amalia, kill those aberrations." before drawing his own scimitar. "For the Dawnfower!" he shouts and wades into battle.
Aaqir emerges and surveys the ensuing battle. "Pathfinders, protect the guests." Even through the melee, the Pathfinder recognize that Aaqir is telling them to save either Passad or Metella.
No sooner does he finish, then breaking glass can be heard in the hallways leading to the merchant apartments.
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"Well, clearly Passad is zombie food at this stage!" shouts Methodios, not caring who hears. With that, Methodios draws his cold iron greataxe and rushes for the stairs.
Methodios, tired as he is, helps his companions to batter the zombies to the side, but cannot manage to prove much use in cutting them down in the hallway. Slipping past the trap, he sees the barricade and effortlessly swims through it.