You are in the Taldan capital of Oppara, a teeming metropolis where decadence overshadows the decline of a once-great empire. You find yourselves in the Pathfinder Society lodge—a modest building disguised as a bait and tackle shop—before the local venture-captain, an aging man named Muesello.
“Greetings, and welcome to Oppara. Thank you for coming on such short notice. We have recently received reports that an item of extreme antiquity has been found. The late Lord Tulwin of Oppara is—was—the patriarch of a clamoring host of children, and none of them were believed to care much for the miser. Toward the end of his life, he supposedly poured all of what was to be their inheritance into the acquisition of an item of extreme value—an Azlanti scepter recovered by a Taldan Army of Exploration centuries ago. Such was his disdain for his offspring that he arranged for his body and most valuable belongings—the scepter among them—to be spirited away within an hour of his passing so the ‘vultures’ couldn’t squabble over his treasures. The scepter was believed lost to time, until now.
“Our reports suggest that the scepter and the late Lord Tulwin lie entombed somewhere on Antios’s Crown. I need you to find the scepter and return it to me here in Oppara. If it truly is as powerful as the rumors suggest, then it must be brought to the Grand Lodge for safekeeping. You are among the few to whom we have given this information, and we expect it to remain secret. The last thing I need is a bunch of squabbling lordlings crowding Antios’s Crown with hired tomb raiders!
“You will know the tomb by the crest of House Tulwin. Look for a winged boar and the scepter should be nearby. When you are ready, we will transport you to the base of Mount Antios via magical means. Admittedly, it would be more expedient to send you directly to the summit, but sadly, no one here has a great enough familiarity with the area to do so without significant risk. Besides, with all the wards, shields, and other magical protections placed upon, in, and around the tombs of so many self-important, paranoid Taldans, who knows what sort of interference would be wrought!”
|
A tall weathered man with a thin dour face stands near the back wall. His long coat is dingy, his hair matching. He's either recently returned from a journey, or just not that interested in personal grooming. Behind him, leaning against the wall among a few of the shop's fishing poles, is a well-made glaive with a cold iron blade. He spends most of the briefing cleaning a finely-crafted firearm. At one point he draws aside his coat to holster the weapon, revealing a gleaming chain shirt beneath along with an array of throwing blades. Observant people also notice tattoos peeking out above his collar and from his sleeves.
He's quiet after Muesello is done speaking, and takes a moment to consider where he's being sent.
|
A tall, athletically-built elf strides purposefully into the room. The hilt of a finely-crafted Elven Curveblade sticks up over his left shoulder. He walks near to the position of the diur faced man up against the wall. He listens intently to the words of Muesello, and he glances over at Maps as he holsters the revolver and smiles as he says,
Still a sharpshooter with that thing, Maps?
He looks back to Muesello.
So, do we need to do any climbing up that peak?
|
|
As the group gathers, the basically unarmed, but well-armored, Half-Orc takes the time to introduce himself. "I am Chuurock bin Ausk, simple priest of Pharasma. I believe it is important that we know and remember the lives of our predecessors. This helps them rest easier and it helps us avoid their mistakes."
Once the meeting starts, he simply nods as Venture-Captain Muesello tells the tale.
"So, we'll find the sceptre where pigs fly?"
As Filios asks his question, Chuurock shrugs. "Whether he thinks we will need it or not, having the gear to do so is better than wanting it."
---
|
The weathered dwarf listens patiently, eating a sandwich wrapped in a cornhusk. The pungent aroma of Varisian spices fill the room, as the dwarf eats his thick, meaty sandwich with enthusiasm. The dwarf has a sturdy bow with the name of a master bowyer engraved on the top part.
He looks at human with the firearm with just a little curiosity. "Seen them things--well at least the longer ones. They call me Jory."
He looks at the half-orc with a little suspicion. "Are you one of them Chelaxian clerics or one of the divine clerics?"
Jory says 'Chelaxian clerics' with a grimace and the latter part of the statement with a smile. You surmise Jory has not met many clerics, and is quite uninformed about them.
|
|
Jory gives Filios a nod: "You know your trade Filios. Want a sandwich?"
Jory opens a pouch and draws out another sandwich wrapped in a cornhusk. It appears he has an ample supply of spicy sandwiches.
Jory also takes out a wand with a pictogram of a chain shirt on a tag attached to it on a leather thong. "Would anyone know how to make this work?"
Muesello says, "Well, there is a path along your route, but it is ill-used. Climbing equipment might be helpful and, as Chuurock has said, it is better to have it just in case."
|
|
A tall man with Chelaxian features stands quietly in the back listening. As Muesello finishes speaking, he introduces himself to the party. Well met, I'm Flinders Offendurr. I have worked with Maps before, but I think I have heard the names of most of the rest the party around the Lodge. Honored to be apart of the party. He flashes a smile and turns his attention back to the Venture-Captain. Do we have a moment to pick up any last minute equipment?
"Oh, certainly. Pick up anything you need in town and when you're ready to go I'll send for my agent who will be in charge of teleporting you to the base."
|
|
As the sandwich dwarf asks after Chuurock's qualifications, the half-orc grunts. "Chelxain clerics? I do not worship devils or demons. I worship the guardian of the dead and the past. I celebrate the memory of those who have gone before us, even as I work to preserve, or rediscover, our memory of them. The Pathfinder Society provides me plenty of opportunity on that point."
As the wand is waved about: "Sorry, no, I can't help you with that."
The discussion about altitude problems causes Chuurock's brow to furrow. "I don't know. I'll have to consider and seek some assistance about whether I can find help on that point."
|
|
A tall, handsome man with good hair and a charming smile leans against a table and tries to make eye contact with everyone. "Sorry friend, but I've not a clue as to the mysteries of that wand of yours." Leonel offers in a tone that almost suggests he had, in fact, helped the dwarf.
"Heights? Cold? Sounds rather dreadful. And a tomb you say? Frankly I don't know why tombs are kept at all; they have that nasty habit of housing dead that seem to enjoy awakening. Nothing a fine sword can't handle though, I'm sure!" Leonel says cheerfully while patting a huge sheath protruding from behind him.
|
|
Jpry puts away his wand with disappointment.
"Well, let's buy some climbing kits. I still have my cold weather gear from my Frostfur Adventures, but you all might want to grab some or some of those scrolls of elemental protection."
Upon hearing Chuurock's explanation: "Those are values any good dwarf already has. You must have tons of dwarves in your order! We'll get along fine. Here is my other wand of healing if you need it. The Chelaxian cleric had little healing and drained it quite a bit--his magic power could only heal the walking dead and harm the living. So guess what healed an entire party."
Jory hands the cleric a wand with pictogram of a bandage on a tag attached to it with a leather thong.
His face shows a frown as he reminisces. "And a barbarian that ran ahead and tripped every trap in the place when I paused to search. I am still amazed I got those rookies back without losing one."
When everyone is ready, the party is teleported to the foot of Mount Antios. The mountain is breathtakingly tall and rarely traveled.
It looks like the first day will not be terribly cold or high in altitude .
The party puts their heads together and is able to map out a clear path up the mountain. In fact, this first day of climbing the trail is clear of snow and ice, although the scree litters the gradual slope more often as the party ascends. The temperature is cool but not terribly cold yet.
About four hours into your climb, you come to sharp turn int he trial where a sheer cliff directly abuts the edge of the path as it hugs the twisting mountain face. The sun glares off the speckled stone of the mountain, unobstructed by clouds or plants more dense than low mountain scrub. A rockslide ahead covers much of the natural pathway, narrowing the trail to less than two arm spans wide. Opposite the rockslide, a sheer drop falls away, giving a clear view of the mountainside below and the vast Tandak Plains to the west and south.
The party spends some time readying their climbing equipment, tying themselves off so as not to fall over the cliff.
The party readies their climbing kits, using ropes and pitons to anchor themselves to the cliff before carefully walking along the narrow ledge.
Suddenly the ground lets out beneath Maps and Filios and both fall into a pit lined with spikes.
Anyone who falls in the pit is also simultaneously covered in a fluid that burst out of waterskins rigged to explode upon triggering the pit trap.
Meanwhile, an axe swings down from somewhere up above, heading straight at the two people next in line (Jory and Flinders unless Maps or Filios made their save to avoid the pit and are still standing above).