The summons from Sheila Heidmarch arrives two hours before dawn, and the venture-captain demonstrates a scarcely contained mix of excitement and anxiety as she motions for everyone to take a seat. “A short time ago, I sent a team of Pathfinders to recover the refuge tokens that might grant us access to the Runelord Krune’s lair. While that team succeeded in recovering the tokens, we still lack the proper command words to activate them, and no amount of divination seems able to provide them.
“While we don’t know the command words themselves, we do know that the words are etched into a set of rune plates—durable, well-crafted, and roughly parchment-sized tablets bearing ritual instructions—that are held in the Thousandth Spire, one of the many towers at the Thassilonian ruins known as Desgard’s Thousand Columns in what was once Haruka. You won’t have time to formally chronicle the site today, as you will not be alone. Our divinations also sensed multiple cells of Lissalans converging on the site, and it appears they have a lead. As a result, I have called in a favor from a Lissalan cultist we captured some months ago to have you teleported directly to the site.
“Krune and his predecessors appear to have protected their towers against most forms of divination. As a result, there is little more that I can tell you on short notice. The Thousandth Spire stands near the western end of the site, and its entryway will be marked by these runes,” she states, placing a slip of paper on the table. “Don’t tamper with any of the other towers unless you know what you are doing; you will be travelling to an eminent site of sloth magic, and there’s little telling what products of conjuration magic lie hidden within.”
With that, Sheila plants her feet and curtly nods to signal the close of the meeting. “You have your orders: retrieve the runeplates, exercise discretion, and show initiative. You’re among my top agents, and I trust you to do whatever it takes to get the job done. Questions?”
[spoiler=DC 25 KN (history)]Few vestiges of Haruka remain, particularly given the violent destruction of Xin-Haruka soon after the empire’s fall. Historians still debate whether or not a host of metallic dragons razed the city, and the dragons have remained silent on the issue.
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On one of the chair (the one who could support him) sat a very fat human sweating constantly. He weight nearly two hundred pounds for barely more than 5'3 feet high. The bold man is tattooed everywhere with varisian style tattoos, his black pigseyes driven by a cruel glow. His complexion is pale, almost greenish and its teeth are particularly sharp and when he smiles, two of its canines unfolds. He seems embarrassed by the light and protects himself from it by a large hood. He is dressed in an ostentatious way, his large and greasy hands adorns expensive rings of the worst taste. His dresses are detailed and from high quality (but also of the worst taste). Around his neck, he wears a stylized key and some sort of a seven branched star as an amulet.
His has a pretty bad reputation in the society as a merchant. Nevertheless the man has a true presence, troubling and intimidating.
Ah ! It's always my great pleasure to see you Miss Heidmarch. A pleasure as big as the missions you give us. I'm the right man to this mission as I'm very interested in Thassalion's fall and History and this quest seems to give us clue about all that !
To those I have not the pleasure to already meet, I'm Tolgarov ! If you need anything I have certainly a cousin somewhere who could provide it to you !
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A dark haired elf with a Fu Manchu moustache wearing a green robe with yellow/orange stitching along it's bottom to make it appear to be on fire greets you all before he looks at Tolgarov and says with a grin.
"I finally figured out why your fireworks displays are so much bigger then mine..fat is an excellent fueling agent."
Ceric then listens to the briefing and takes a look at the piece of paper so he can commit the picture to his memory
Ceric shares the knowledge he remembers about the subjects mentioned with the rest of the party
"Seems I ..or rather we have to be more careful when using teleporting as well as summoning spells. It also seems like a logical assumption that many of the defenses surrounding these runeplates will be composed off summoned creatures."
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Lounging in the back of the room, presenting a near solid wall of metal between the spiked chains draped over his armor and the full plate armor itself, is a very bored human. "So, lots of wiggly fingers and cultists, and potentially a whole heapin' bunch o' summoned critters. Some of that could be fun." He sits up straighter, and grins at Batty's expression of concern. "If we show up looking to be ambushed, that could go very poorly for anybody trying. Name's Giovanni, for those I don't know already."
"How big is this favor from our enemy? I do not feel completely comfortable being teleported by a Lissalan cultist. What is keeping them from teleporting us into an ambush?"
[b]“Her name is Karethia, and she’s one of those who so rudely interrupted a particular auction earlier this year. After we captured her, she willingly accepted Pathfinder oversight and now provides us with magical aid so long as we do not violate her existing oaths. Make certain that you do not let her know about your true mission, lest she feel compelled to interfere. She is indispensable, so do not antagonize her. As long as she is unaware of your true mission, I doubt she will betray us.”
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Very young & lithe half elf, plenty of energy, wearing well traveled but clean clothes. You can hear the soft sound of chain links under the clothes. Several Ioun stones circle over her head.
"So... we are teleporting in blind. Wonderful. What is our timetable? Do we have an idea when the cultists will show up?"
What is our timetable? Do we have an idea when the cultists will show up?"
“After this briefing you will have perhaps 15 minutes to gather what you must, return here, and be ready to depart. Until you arrive and can assess the situation, we must assume that our opposition already has an uncomfortable head start.”
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The large half elf in a gleaming breast plate turns to the group."My name is Batty and I am a priest of Gorum. I will do my best to aid you in battle but I might get caught up in the front lines from time to time." Besides his breast plate he is dressed in simple clothing and has two great swords slung across his back.
Once everyone is prepared, Sheila Heidmarch returns to the meeting room accompanied by a blindfolded Chelaxian woman dressed in blue-green robes. The Thassilonian runes tattooed on the prisoner’s left arm are surrounded by a brand of the Glyph of the Open Road. Sheila quickly introduces the other woman as Karethia and urges you to travel to Desgard’s Thousand Columns as soon as possible. Karethia has little to say, but she does caution you against toying with the magic of sloth. Moments later you are transported away to a distant location.
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A two-tiered, half-mile long ravine gashes a jagged wound across the dry ground of the Storval Plateau, defining the limits of Desgard’s Thousand Columns. A grove of enormous crystalline prisms fills the ravine’s bottom, but only a few of the gem-like pillars crest the fifty-foot cliffs to the north and south. Built precariously close to the precipices on either side rise two rows of sturdy stone towers, each bearing irregularly placed spikes that appear to grow from the stone itself.
arrive several hundred feet from the ruins’ western edge. There the ground slopes gradually into the ravine’s crystal-strewn bottom, and several boulders nearby bear Shoanti pictographs.
Ceric notes that The ravine’s crystals radiate lingering conjuration and abjuration magic.
Tolgarov does not see anything invisible nearby.
Ceric determines that it is lingering magic and the crystals probably don't do much anymore, although they may have once served as arcane foci.
Gina flies up the slope trailing a rope behind and the others are able to follow and arrive at the top.
A small army of bodies lie crumpled, broken, and scattered about this tower. Many of the corpses are partially dissolved, and the parched ground is pitted as if from strong acid. Unlike the entrances of the other towers, this structure’s door stands slightly ajar, as if it had been forced open.
However, a great copper-colored dragon picking bits of chainmail from his teeth, lounging in front of the open entrance.
"Greetings!" the beast says in a booming voice, "I am Zonaladin, sentinel of this tower. Who comes before me?"
superiority tend to earn the dragon’s grudging respect, but praise must be sincere without seeming sycophantic.
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""Greetings great and powerful Zonalandin, allow me too humbly introduce myself. I go by the name of Ceric. I know I am not worthy of your time or even to be in your presence. But if you would humor me just for a bit we might proof to be a tiny bit of entertainment for someone so magnificent as yourself.
Perhaps one of my companions might even be able to impress you with a tale or song of their previous exploits. All though I am sure it will fail in comparison to what you could possibly tell us of your past exploits.... I am sure even the tale of what happend here just recently would be a far, far greater story then anything we might have done.You appear to be hurt..and it must have been a battle of Epic proportions if your opponents where able to damage such a valiant and powerful creature as yourself even with the tiniest scratch.
I know it isn't much but I hope one of my associates has some wine or perhaps some baked foods or something else sweet they might have to give to you as a token of our friendship as it would be. For myself I am afraid I can't offer you anything to eat and would never even considering to offer you anything as mundane as coins. I hope you will forgive me for this. But maybe I can interest you in a light discussion on the Arcane, I would love to have the perspective of a someone as yourself with an intricate knowledge of magic. (if he responds positive trying to get an arcane discussion going so I can roll Arcana instead of Diplomacy) I know I will certainly learn more from this then you, but perhaps the perspective of a lesser race might inspire you to new ways of thinking
(if I can roll Knowledge Aracana add +18 to that)
"Haha! Well met, Ceric! Yes, indeed, my exploits have been many and grand. As you can see, these folks did not impress me with their wit, their courage, or their motives. But you seem much more intelligent and knowledgeable than they and I think you will learn much from my all-powerful sagacity." Zonaladin spends some time discussing finer details of the arcane with Ceric. "Ha! Yes, you are quite talented, my friend. And well met indeed! It is fine to speak with someone as skilled as you are. I hope your friends are equally interesting!"
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Taking aside his usual behavior to bully people Tolgarov take the route of diplomacy following Ceric example.
The greasy man began his plea
Greeting Mighty, benevolent and powerful Zonaladin, I'm the not humble Tolgarov, student of the bloatmage in the city of Kaer Maga. It's an honor and a privilege to meet such a powerful personality as yourself I've already see powerful Arcanist but not as powerful as you and as ancient and knowledgeable. If it please you It will be my greatest pleasure to hear stories of your mighty and numerous accomplishments as well as be of any help if you ever need it from such a not so humble man as me !
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Giovanni looks over the strewn, partially dissolved bodies, and swallows. Then he turns and looks up to the dragon's face. "Greetings! The field here clearly displays your wrath and your capability to express it. This display strikes me as being more something a brute would produce than the thoughtful creature that a dragon of your age, and size, must surely actually be."
The (relatively) tiny human takes a chain off of his armor, and displays it to the dragon. "Most people like me who train to be warriors focus on destruction and the quick elimination of foes who, honestly, might not actually be long-term opposition. When I look over this field, I see results so very much like the ones these men work to create." He spins the chain, idly, and then places it back on the hooks on his armor. "I try for a longer view. Why kill someone who can instead talk to others that I might otherwise have to face, and warn them to stay away? If I can sufficiently embarrass a foe through superior capability and skill, then his continued life can reduce the number of foes I face later. But in order for that to work, you have to not only seriously embarrass them, you have to ensure they fear their relative inadequacy."
He walks over and toes one of the partial corpses. "There's no doubt that you can easily display the dominance required to provide the root of such fear. Once that root is in place, it is easy enough to create heralds of your dominance using only words, and that root of fear."
"You could start by melting no more than half of the group, and then offering the remainder the opportunity to walk away. Too many adventurer's will still try to take you, but we both know how that will go. Squash another member or two of the group, and repeat the offer. When somebody finally has their will to live kick in and they accept the offer, make it clear that they are to warn others away, or you will see them dead. When it comes time, you can even have the next herald hunt the last one down and demonstrate the cost of failure . . .."
Zonaladin responds, "Oh, I don't feel like indulging you in stories at the moment; it's not worth the energy for me to entertain you so."
Zonaladin listens to Giovanni's reasoning and considers for a moment before responding. "Quite the interesting strategy, if your main goal is to kill and promote fear. Alas, that is not my purpose in life; I am a protector and guardian and must keep the reigns in, so to speak, to maintain my power as an implacable sentinel. As such, it is my job to judge people and I can't have that opportunity by attacking first and asking questions later. Nonetheless, you have a warrior's mind and I'm sure you would make a worthy opponent."
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Batty will survey the battlefield nodding with approval."An impressive battle the lord of iron would be pleased. As reward for your skill in battle I would be honored to use his blessing to heal you." He then draws his cold iron great sword and presents it to the dragon. "You may also have this to clean that pesky armor from your teeth if you so desire."
Zonaladin smiles at Batty as he takes the sword and spends a few moments clinking it around until his teeth are cleaned of all chain mail. "Ah! That's better! Thank you, those wounds were starting to sting."
Zonaladin takes a sip of Ezrek's brew. "My! This is quite good! You have a talent for this, you know! Before I finish it off, you must tell me where your drinking establishment is. I will certainly need to come by to refill my stash sooner rather than later, HAHA! As I finish this, then, let it be a drink to our friendship then! You may enter the Thousandth Spire if you wish. I will remain here and guard against any bands of rotten cultists!"
"Before you go, before you go!" the dragon says as he finishes off Ezrek's drink and reaches around for something. "First, let me warn you that there is a trap on the front entrance. Not a real trap, mind you, it's just a phantom. I didn't have time to reset the real one before you lot showed up."
He moves to the eastern edge of the ravine and finds what he was looking for. "Here, take these before you head in! A reward for the fine drink and fine company you have provided!"
He hands over three potions of cure moderate wounds, a pearl of power (4th level), a scroll with four castings of align weapon (one of each alignment), three scrolls of cure critical wounds, 12 uncut emeralds worth 200 gp each, and a silent metamagic rod.
Four entrances lead from the tower’s atrium, which rises fifteen feet before disappearing into a cloud of dense, chill mist. A mural depicting a plethora of extraplanar creatures wraps its way around the entire room, focusing on the space above the northern door, where a larger-than-life depiction of a bald man covered in tattooed runes appears to hold the otherworldly creatures in thrall. One of his hands rests upon a bronze panel from which two angels emerge.
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Ceric will cast detect magic and take a look around while commenting on the mural depicting angels, daemons, devils, genies, and even creatures of the Dark Tapestry and regonizing several individual species includig cornugon devils, efreeti, a shaggy demodand, denizens of Leng, and an astradaemon.
Does the bronze panel look like it could be anything special (removable/able to be opened or something)?
Does the bronze panel look like it could be anything special (removable/able to be opened or something)?
Ceric detects no magic in this first room.
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"Well let's try this new trick I picked up a short while ago."
Ceric will cast Draconic Reservoir on Giovanni (will absorb the next(8*6=48) points of fire damage he will take for the next 80 minutes and each round, as a swift action, he can release 1d6 points of the absorbed energy and apply it to any melee attack, as if using an flaming weapon. The first creature he strikes with this attack takes the energy damage in addition to any other consequences of the attack. Releasing energy in this way does not "free up" space to absorb still more energy.)
Seems like a nice spell to have while we have Tolgarov around throwing those flaming spells all over the place ;)
Ceric then will cast detect magic again and takes a look at the mist.
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"What you call kill things, I call mopping up. Though I do not think I need to be doing as much of that with this group."
-Posted with Wayfinder
Ezrek and Ceric prepare themselves as they wonder about the mist above. Neither of them note anything, however, and Ceric detects magic from the next chamber so the party goes to check it out.
Four corridors converge orthogonally upon an octagonal space roughly thirty feet across in the tower’s center. In the place of more bronze panels stand eight open, rectangular doorframes adorned with metal studs, each doorway’s contents obscured by cool, gray mist. Embedded into the floor in the center of the room is a large numeral one crafted of red marble. A small niche in the southeast wall houses a hand-sized, polished granite statuette of a muscular dwarf wearing robes and hefting a hammer.
Written above each door is a phrase written in Thassilonian.
I the lord of multiple
Obscure the one from primal sight
Hidden now by factors few
A century I wait in night
Product of the fewest steps
Rise again the runelord’s might
Twice I strode, the lord of sloth
Walk these doors to tower’s height