Please dot here, and welcome!
Hey, Silas. Bored yet? She asks.
You have just received your latest mission. A mission worthy of honor, no doubt, but why did it have to be all the way up in Issiren? As you enter your chambers to pack you find a Gnome sitting in your bed reading the latest edition of the Pathfinder Chronicles! Her skin is slightly green and her hair a luscious red which gives her the look of a living rose. Her arms are literally on fire and it looks like her skin has been transformed into a bed of coals. The fire is obviously magical as it isn't burning her clothes. She glances up and winks. Hey there, "Devil's Daughter". I heard you just got some good news?[/b] she says.
You have just received your latest mission. A mission worthy of honor, no doubt, but why did it have to be all the way up in Issiren? As you enter your chambers to pack you find a Gnome sitting in your bed reading the latest edition of the Pathfinder Chronicles! Her skin is slightly green and her hair a luscious red which gives her the look of a living rose. Her arms are literally on fire and it looks like her skin has been transformed into a bed of coals. The fire is obviously magical as it isn't burning her clothes. She glances up and winks. Hey there, Talon. I heard you just got some good news?[/b] she says.
[spoiler=Tor]Your office is empty when you arrive. It's early morning and the first rays of light are just now touching the arch of the cyphergate. You close the door and turn back to your desk to find it suddenly occupied by a Gnome! Her skin is slightly green and her hair a luscious red which gives her the look of a living rose. Her arms are literally on fire and it looks like her skin has been transformed into a bed of coals. The fire is obviously magical as it isn't burning her clothes. She is leaning back in your chair with her feet on your desk! Hey Tor. She says. Bored yet?
"And who in the Hells are you, bleachling? And what are you doing in my chambers?" Taerine asks, suspicion immediately clear in her voice.
She flares her force ward, calling up extra protection as she confronts the stranger.
Searing flame may be called for here, considering her own fire... Or just suck the air from her lungs.
He turns to her and takes a seat, nodding his Tian head to her, and resting his pointed had on the table. "I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage, my dear. Such a vivid rose faded just so, yet I have no name by which to call you."
He smiles and turns to his desk, withdrawing a bottle of wine, a token that he had collected from one of his past ventures into the Kingdom of the Impossible. He uncorks the bottle and pours them both a glass, offering her one as well. "For such a delightful lass to ask of a Venture Captain's boredom speaks to perhaps an intention to alleviate him of it? I pray you, join me, share in some company, and share with this old man the thoughts that stir your mind."
"There are few offers I find I cannot refuse," Taerine responds coldly. "But say your piece while my patience still remains."
It's suicide.
I am in contact with several exceptional individuals, such as you and I, who could aid you in this task. I could even get youall to the Veil in a fraction of the time it would ordinarily take you. Free of charge.
She smiles at you, almost dareing you to turn her proposal down. You wouldn't even have to tell anyone you got help, as long as you convinced the others to stay quiet about it.
The gnome perks up when you are so hospitable. Why thanks, Silas! I knew you were a keeper. My name is Percy. Percy Silvershaper. And I do have a cure for your bleaching. And one that will be worth writing about, to be sure.
I have come to know, via powers beyond mortals, that the Torc of Kostchtchie has been located. I have a particular interest in making that specific item disappear, so I am recruiting a band of extraordinary individuals to make sure it doesn't fall to the current Queen of Issiren or Kostchtchie himself. Interested?
The morning sun in just kissing the arch of the Cyphergate and you've been up all night. Again. That blasted rune simply refuses to yield, and yet you can feel that you're so close! You return to your quarters to find a gnome in your room reading the latest issue of the Pathfinder Chronicles! Her skin is slightly green and her hair a luscious red which gives her the look of a living rose. Her arms are literally on fire and it looks like her skin has been transformed into a bed of coals. The fire is obviously magical as it isn't burning her clothes or the paper. Having troubles, Tor? She asks without looking up.
"And what would you get out of this arrangement? And these others? Would they also expect to claim the torc or would they understand that it is destined for my Father's church?"
That is, until she mentions the torc of Kostchtchie. His relaxed demeanor suddenly sharpens, his hand gripping his staff. If such a thing could be felt, the air in the room suddenly turned as the older human was on his guard now, quite aware of what their topic of conversation was.
His eyes narrow as he looks to Percy. "My dear, you are claiming to have knowledge of a demon lord's artifact? Pray tell, my precious flower, who has sent you? And why me?"
Baba Yaga created the Veil of Frozen Tears as retribution
against her daughter Tashanna and her upstart rebellion.
As the Witchwar concluded, the survivors of the rebelling
army were captured by Baba Yaga’s forces. A massive purge
then took place, in which the Old Crone’s monstrous
soldiers rounded up the families of all the disloyal troops.
These terrified civilians—men, women, and children—
were forced to undergo a brutal march north to the
uttermost edge of Baba Yaga’s kingdom. Many of them
did not survive the long road of cold and deprivation,
and those who did remained haunted to the end of their
days by what they found at the end of their journey. At the
head of a narrow valley, they found their loved ones—the
hundreds of captured soldiers—chained to the massive
stone escarpment. The deposed Queen Tashanna and her
war captains stood huddled under guard on one slope of
the valley, while the hapless families of the condemned
stood below on the valley floor. Baba Yaga’s infamous
hut stood atop the escarpment like an enthroned ruler
surveying her domain.
While the horrified crowd of thousands watched, Baba
Yaga stepped from the entrance of her hut and wove a mighty
spell that rerouted an icy river flowing through the nearby
mountains and brought it to the cliff’s edge just above the
hundreds of chained prisoners. The sudden rushing flood
poured over the cliff face. The chained prisoners were held
helplessly in its path as the onslaught tumbled down upon
them. Many were killed outright by the crushing weight of
the water and the debris it carried, or were ripped bodily from
the face of the cliff—leaving twisted limbs still manacled
to the rock—as they tumbled to their doom hundreds of
feet below. Others drowned as the newly formed waterfall
gushed down over them, stealing their breath even as it
numbed their bodies with its cold.
The crowd of onlookers below was not spared the
slaughter. Too late they realized their jeopardy as the
mighty waters rushed over the cliff and into the valley.
They fled in droves for the slopes of the valley, but many
hundreds were unable to escape before being swept away
in the catastrophic flood. Thus Queen Tashanna and
her captains learned the price of their betrayal as they
watched their loyal followers being wiped out, and saw
even the families of those followers destroyed by the Old
Crone’s vengeance.
Finally, as her fabled hut stood firm on its perch in the
midst of the rushing flow, Baba Yaga cast a final spell.
With a wave of her hand, the tumbling waters below her
froze solid into a cyclopean column of twisted ice spilling
over the cliff’s edge and into the valley. With another
motion, she summoned great ice worms that rose from
the snows and ice of the valley slopes and began to tunnel
into the frozen cataract, creating tunnels and chambers
within the frozen tomb. The last sight beheld by the
surviving families as they were led away on their long
march south was of Tashanna and her war captains being
taken in chains to face their own fates in the newly carved
tunnels of the frozen veil that now hid their deceased
loved ones. None of the officers of the former witch
queen were ever seen in Irrisen again. The Old Crone’s
vengeance was complete, and the Witchwar became but
a distant memory as the nation of Irrisen, bloodied but
whole again, continued on beneath the rule of another of
her daughters.
The Torc of Kostchtchie is a large golden necklace that holds a fragment of the Demon Lord's soul. It was crafted by Baba Yaga herself. Kostchtchie will stop at nothing to possess the Torc.
"Your lord, may I have the pleasure of his name, or perhaps meeting him? I would like to know the one that seeks to set me against the Witch Coven of Irrisan, as well as a demon lord." He chuckles to himself and shakes his head. "I had thought to make the Iron Maiden's tomb the last time I ventured outside of the walls of a lodge. Though I must admit you have piqued my curious nature."
He sighs softly. "Tell me of this Lord, and this task. Even were it not of dire importance, I would never forgive myself for abandoning the quest to neutralize the artifact of some of my dear friend's greatest foes." His mind wanders to some of his Celestial companions that he has shared time with and starts to make plans to prepare for his departure.
"Who are you, and why are you in my quarters?" asks Tor as he draws the ubiquitous Warhammer that hangs from his belt.
Talon sizes up this gnome, looking for any sign he has seen or heard of her before.
with one hand on his the hilt of his blade, (still sheathed) Do I know you? he asks in a hushed voice.
he makes sure the door to his room is secure and Kat or Cass are nowhere to be found, those two can be rather annoying when they want to be, still they are Marcus' daughters.
Doot.
Relevant Rolls.
Disguise.
"I think not," Taerine responds. "The torc is for the church. That said, if what I was told of it and its nevirons are true, I would not turn down help in getting it. I am willing to let you take it for one great act as you say, once it has been used to deal with these rebellions that seek to destroy Cheliax."
You would be retrieving this artifact in the name of Imbrex. Eldest of the First World. The Unmoved and Ineviable.
You arrive at your room to find a gnome leaning against the door frame. Her skin is slightly green and her hair a luscious red which gives her the look of a living rose. Her arms are literally on fire and it looks like her skin has been transformed into a bed of coals. The fire is obviously magical as it isn't burning her clothes.
Ragnvald. You are a very hard man to find!
Silas ponders this for a moment, and his beleaguered features seem to soften and his smile returns. "Imbrex you say. Very well. I am not given often to calling upon the powers of the First World. My planar contacts lie in Elysium, Heavens and the Celestial realms. An artifact such as the Torc houses the very core and power of the demon lord. Normally, I have some specific secured vaults that we would usher such an item to for safekeeping, and internment. If Imbrex has sent you to me, precious one, he must have a different plan in mind. If we are not rushed, would you be willing to join me for a meal? We can go over any details that I should know before hand, and also, if Imbrex is orchestrating this, there must be other agents you are contacting. I would know what I can of the others before I go to meet them."
Silas smiles, standing to his feet, and offering his hand down to the gnome. "It would be my pleasure, and honor, Percy Silvershaper, if you would join me."
Rangvald let the question hang allowing the gnome time to say a name and voice reasons.
"So what exactly do you need me for? Some sort of crazy cult running around that needs Torag's justice? or maybe you're looking for a linguist?"
Talon listens to the offer and is a little slow to respond, as he gets ready for the trip.
I don't usually take partners. he says a little coldly. but his memories are filled with the many missions he worked with Raven. he never admitted that he liked her, probably never will either.
after a bit, However, you did peak my curiosity, why are you offering assistance, Perhaps there is more in this mission than meets the eye?
"As if Asmodeus fears some little demon lord," Taerine replies haughtily. "I was there when our forces crushed the Worldwound and I fear not some little demon. You have my offer, little gnome. Do with it what you will or I shall claim this torc on my own."
"I have heard of neither, but I bet the Vale of Frozen Tears ain't in the Mwangi Expanse." Tor chuckles and then continues "I assume that someone wants the former, and it's located in the latter? How much are they offering for the job?"
lets see, knowledge isn't my strong suit.
Nothing, its a place and an object. I need to either retrieve the torc or ensure it does not fall into the hands of the enemies of Nidal. what more do I need to know?
Talon does his best to hide it, but he does not really enjoy going into a mission without proper intel. but that is something that he does not need to share, at least not right now.
Silas nods, seating Percy at a table in the corner of the common room, having one of the kitchen staff prepare them both a meal. His mouth curves into a frown as she mentions the other members. "Followers of Torag are understandable, assassins you never really can tell. An investigator seems the most unassuming of the group, and Heaven help us with the girl. It would seem fitting to have an Asmodean lying to themselves about who they are."
Their meal is brought out, a spicy curry with rice and also a rice wine with plum flavor to it. Silas bows his head to the cook, and turns back to Percy. "Things that I want to know..., well:" He frowns just a moment as he ponders. He looks about, seeing agents moving in and out for their normal routines and does his best to keep up appearances of having a mission negotiation.
"Well, I'd like to know how the Torc was rediscovered. Knowing that may give us clues as to the parties that we may encounter trying to retrieve it. Are the Irriseni witches aware that the Torc has been located? What would your patron do with the Torc when it is recovered? If I am not mistaken, this Torc may be interred near some of the more pivotal events of the Witchwar. And if I am not mistaken, you and Allie were both there. What else can you tell me of this mission?"
She steps back, pulls a scroll from her clothes and teleports out, leaving behind her Pathfinder Chronicle.
As you go about the process of tea, she asks, If I mentioned the Veil of Frozen Tears or the Torc of Kostchtchie would you know what I came for?
Should you recover it, Imbrex is likely to hide it in the first world somewhere. He hasn't told me everything.
When you mention her sister and knowledge of her role in the previous war Percy seems surprised. Very few people remember us, Silas. You've done your homework. And you have questions that lack answers. You already know about as much as I do, or will as soon as we arrive. I can transport you there and will be bringing the team together shortly. Just after this meal, in fact.
Silas nods, his mind lost in thought. The mystery doesn't very well sit with me, but the failing of the veil's magics gives us little time to plan. Ambrus my old friend..., I may not come back from this one.
His impassive look turns to a soft smile. "My dear, You have me. Though I do not think it was ever in question. Given certain offices that I hold, I must handle a couple of very important matters. Though I suppose if you would permit me to gather the items together, I can do the work at our meeting place. Let me gather together my things."
Silas finishes his meal, gathering their dishes and bringing them into the kitchen. He bids farewell to the cooks, and shakes their hands. As he leads Percy back, he stops and takes a quick moment with some of the more senior members of the lodge, in particular stopping at Venture Captain Amara's office. With a quick explanation that powers beyond the Society require his aid, he gives her a formal bow and farewell, with the intention of a hopeful return.
Once returning to his room, he sheds his more formal kimono, and begins to don the garb of his rank and achievement. With his white robes, staff and pointed hat in place, he turns and grabs a warded box and his haversack and bag of holding. he checks through them to make certain that everything is still in place before taking a deep breath, and turning back to Percy. "Madam Silvershaper, I would be delighted to join you on a stroll today." He smiles at her, fondly as if he was an old man going out on a sunday afternoon walk.
Taerine snorts but then warily picks up the Chronicle and examines it.
"Okay, that's not unreasonable. I'll take a Sihedron Ring, should you have one laying about. I've been looking for one for a while, and it should help with my studies of the gate. Also, what is my timeframe for arriving at the meeting point...assuming I'm not just going myself, that is."
When you take her hand she reads from the scroll and the familiar sensation of teleportation magic envelops you.
An unbelievable sight waits at the end of this valley, where the frozen plains meet the Crown of the World. At the head of the valley, a massive waterfall once plunged the seven hundred feet to the valley floor, but the waterfall has frozen solid, leaving a braided ice column of unimaginable proportions extending from the lip of the cliff above to its base of jagged ice boulders and frozen hillocks at the bottom—the legendary Veil of Frozen Tears, the icy necropolis of the defeated rebels of the Witchwar. A fortification of some sort, apparently carved from the ice itself, protrudes from the ice sheet halfway up, with both a turret and wall pierced with arrow slits. Above this, a hollow has been carved out of the ice, forming a great shelf upon which appears to sit some sort of village. A fissure marks the ice flow’s lower reaches and possibly provides entrance. A hundred yards away from the base of the icefall is a camp occupied by a number of large brutes. Percy's camp is hidden in a small, pitiful clump of trees about half mile away from the falls themselves.
Silas takes in the sight of the veil, his eyes wandering this way and that. The masterpiece of vengeance that is the Veil before him, his eyes start to take in every detail that he can from this distance.
He shakes just a bit as the cold really sets in. Being from Tian Xia, he felt that he could tolerate it, but this cold seemed different. Unnatural, as unnatural as the awesome sight before him. He takes a moment to sit and changes his boots. Normally, this wouldn't seem to have much effect, but as soon as he pulls them on, his body relaxes, and once again he seems to have his calm and comfortable demeanor.
He turns to Percy. "I can only imagine what happened. How long till the others arrive?"
Taerine does a quick search around the room to make sure the gnome isn't there. Satisfied, she seeks out the high priest to inform him of her presence, warning him to keep a close eye out. She enlists an underpriest to scry for her and finding the gnome decides she will allow the church to teleport her to the location.
Perhaps this gnome's underlings will be of help after all. And if they should object to Asmodeus' claim on the torc ... well, they shall learn the error of their ways.
Taerine pops into the camp, immediately looking around as she assumes a defensive stance.
"So this is where the torc is?" she asks, eyes flickering over the massive glacier.
As she speaks, she pulls out a small wand, the tip tapped with blue glass and taps it to her chest, immediately ceasing the shivering that began as soon as she arrived.
Her appraisal of the goal done for the moment, she turns to see who or what else is in the camp, aware as she does that they're just as likely examining her.
She knows she cuts a stark figure, wearing the black mantle of Asmodeus' church, with red stitching to accent it. Her silver diadem -- a ruby in the centerpiece -- glitters in the bright sun as she looks around, eyes flashing.
Though attractive, she shows little sign of warmth, detracting from the overall presence. She holds herself confidently, seemingly unconcerned by the complete lack of obvious weaponry on her person.
"There are more coming?" she asks, making no effort to direct the question specifically to the Tian man or the bleachling.
Indeed. Percy states. Silas, may I introduce Taerine Doumont, also known as the Devil's Daughter. Taerine, Silas Runesong, Pathfinder Venture Captain.
Now, while youall get to know one another, I'll go get another member of the group.
She disappears via another scroll before either of you can object.
Talon thinks for a minute, going over his mission in his mind. I find it common in my line of work, nobody offers that kind of aid without wanting something in return. getting that Torc isn't the only thing you want from me, is it.
before she can respond, I am not turning down your aid, simply making sure the terms of the contract are very clear.
Silas chuckles as Percy vanishes once again. His slight frame and obvious Tian Shu features etched with the beginning of middle age setting in.
His garb is simple enough. A robe of pure white, with black scrollwork, and patterns of the two toned mask of Nethys as well as a half lidded eye. He carries a staff that is studded at the top with various metals and gems in a pattern that might resemble a long mace. On his well made belt, there is a peculiar sight. It is a wayfinder, but one that instead looks to be more of an Orrery of the planes rather than a magical compass. The entire thing emits a soft glow, just barely noticable.
His eyes are covered by a set of spectacles that are dark as deepest midnight. A band of thin platinum wraps around his forehead, with a pair of gems resting on his forehead, one blue and one violet in color.
Silas smiles at her, standing and offering a bow to the newcomer. "Greetings, Taerine. It is a pleasure to finally meet the Devil's Daughter. Care to join me for tea?"