You are awaiting your briefing with your fellow agents.
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It's unclear whether it's the posture or the intrinsic size of the elderly "man" as he sits awkwardly in the chair in the lodge's waiting room - but what is certainly clear is that the "man" is old. Very old. And, very very short - so, probably a gnome.
His eyes bulge from behind thick rimmed glasses and a tiny wisp of white hair trails atop his head like a miniature flag blowing in the wind.
While he appears to be wearing a white coat replete with pockets bulging with unknown contents, little by way of armor protects his body outside a set of matching striped pajamas and a pair of blue slippers.
"Good neeeews, Pathfinders! Blessings of Mah-ahm be upon you!"
Smacking his lips, he seems to look about the room but focuses on nobody in particular.
"Today you have the luck of being in the company of the most well-trained, studied Pathfind---"
As if suddenly exhausted by his introduction, the small gnome's head slumps forward, chin-to-chest and an exceptionally loud snore escapes his parched, withered lips.
"Zzzzz.. Quantium.. *mumble mumble*.."
"Nex..."
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An athletic and shapely tiefling slinks into the room. Walking past the gnome, her tail caresses him, almost like a hand. Whether the tiefling intended to do this or not is unclear, as she is looking ahead.
Finding a seat, she stretches luxuriously before addressing the others.
"I'm Saarai Shae," she says. "I'll be dealing with scouting, traps, and other stealthy operations. I'm well-equipped to handle a variety of problems," she adds.
Almost as an afterthought, she says:
"I used to be a Taldorian duchess with wealth beyond your wildest imagination...quite the change of events in my life!" she muses quietly as she plays with the tufting of her chair.
A small, flightless creature of draconic origin sticks its head out of her backpack.
"A-hisssss," it says to no one in particular.
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Before you stands a burly man. He speaks with a heavy accent, wairs a big floppy hat and has a tanned tough skin covered with tattoos. However you also notice some peculiar things. Ridges under his clothing, face and hands, a ridged tail under his cloak and his legs are oddly shaped like those of a predatory dinosaur. He wairs wooden armor and besides a scimtar sling and shield, he carries a large sword on his back. Next to him stands a large human sized dinosaur with an alligator like face and a huge ridge along its back, a spinosaur. The man pets his companion affectionately and speaks with a heavy aussie accent.
"G'day mates. Name's Castiel. Pleasure to meet ya. Don't be afraid of old Betsy here. She won't bite ya unless I tell her too. And if ya scratch her behind the ears like so, she even purrs like a kitten. Ain't she a beauty?" he says as he scratches "Betsie" behind her ear. True to his word the dinosaur starts growling and tilts her head to give Castiel a better angle of her ear.
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A handsome man enters, gliding in without a sound, his feet never touching the ground as he walks. He is of average height and has a slim build to him, yet is perfectly proportioned and in excellent physical shape. It's hard to judge his age as he appears much younger then he seems, having a youthful glow to him. His hair is a light blonde, almost platinum and with a particular sheen to it. Bright blue eyes that almost seem to sparkle like stars in the night sky look over the group gathered. His clothing is modest, similar to a clerics vestments, and impeccably clean, covered by a mithril breastplate. A gleaming morningstar hangs to one side of his belt and a dark wooden shield is strapped to his back, emblazoned with a blue and silver butterfly, the mark of Desna.
He looks around the room and gives a slight nod to his fellow pathfinders. "My name is Jorah and I look forward to adventuring with you all. May Desna watch over us." His speech is quiet yet smooth, almost as if he is talking in a whisper. He takes a seat, and for those with excellent hearing, it sounds as if he is mumbling to himself in Celestial.
You meet with Venture-Captain Norden Balentiir in the Osirian city of An.
Venture-Captain Norden Balentiir inclines his head in welcome as he opens the door and welcomes everyone into a modest office. “I’m glad you are on time—and with little to spare,” he says as checks outside and then closes the door. “Your ship leaves soon, and I’ve taken care of the details.” He places a neat stack of travel papers on the small desk and sits down.
“I’m pleased that you volunteered to visit the remote monastery of Tar Kuata on the Society’s behalf. As you may already know, the Society seeks pieces of the Sky Key, a strange relic broken into multiple pieces by dwarves long ago. It seems one of the descendants may have found her way to Tar Kuata, and we believe the Ouat monks that also reside there still have a piece of the key. Travel there, meet with them, confirm our intelligence, and barter for the relic as needed. Do aim to be respectful; few Pathfinders have traveled to Tar Kuata, so you’ll need to earn the monks’ goodwill—and perhaps even pave the way for future collaboration.
“To that end, I am sending you with this.” Balentiir lifts a heavy bag and adds it to the desk. “You may be familiar with bags able to hold more than seems possible, and this one is filled with grain. I understand Tar Kuata has had a poor harvest this year, and this should help you get off on the right foot in negotiations. Any questions?”
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Entering the room just before conversation starts is a tall braud shouldered man. He looks like he has never lived in a town in his life, his hair all matted and mangled and his close ruff and worn. Their is also a slight stench to him. Right behind him is his dinosaur friend and loyal companion Storm Tooth. Storm Tooth is a velociraptor who snarls at the other creatures, not because they are their but because of what he is protecting. Riding on Storm Tooths back is their furry friend nibbler, a weasel who helps his master. "Hello" he says Jorah in Celestial,"It be many moons brother" paying no attention to anyone else in the room at that moment. Then he goes to have a seat instructing his companions to do the same.
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The professor snorts as he returns to the land of the wakened, somehow having made out the bits of Norden Balentiir's briefing.
"Oh! So, it's a delivery mission!"
The professor attempts to stand, wobbles and lands on his buttocks again.
"This sounds like a job for the Golarian Express!"
The professor glances about the room, rubbing his eyes.
"Oh dear, it seems I'm not quite ready for that yet, a group of Pathfinders will have to do..."
Finally managing to stand, the Professor waddles over to the magical bag and pokes it with an aged, bony finger.
"Now whatzit? A bag of rain you say? Are you sure you've properly analyzed the properties of this magical bag to hold rain? I'm curious how it will hold enough to restore the crops in the region..."
Before anyone can answer, the Professor continues blathering on.
"We're going to Narmek's monastery then for the key, are we? Curious fellow, my great-grandfather used to speak of him fondly. I can't remember though, if it was something about a megalomaniac who wanted to rule the world, or that he made delicious pumpkin scones..."
Clearly exhausted from speaking and moving, the Professor locates a new chair in the venture captain's room and seats himself it in again.
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Saarai does not seem concerned about having two aasimar in the group.
Live and let live, right?
She nudges Savage. "Hey there...another mission together, eh? Last time it was that frozen boat...I had jumped down in the hull of that thing to investigate, and found myself surrounded by wights and skeletons! Nothing I couldn't handle, of course, but good times!"
She tries to remember what she knows about the area they are going to...it seems to be a lot. She shares this knowledge with the rest of the group.
Saarai's familiar makes some curious sounds, and the tiefling responds.
"Oh, yes! That's true!" she exclaims.
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The Professor rubs his eyes at Saarai's mention of Rovagug.
"Rova-who now? Oh, Rova-GUG?"
"The Rough Beast... or was it The Best Ruff? Some sort of dog-god? God-dog? That can't be right, that would be a palindrome, no not a paladin..."
The gnome continues to ramble on for some time.
"Now, I'm pretty certain something about destruction and disasters, yes that's it... nothing I can think of extra we'd want to prepare for before we leave beyond the usual..."
The Professor looks about for assistance as he heads for the exit, waving a hand in the general direction of Norden Balentiir.
"It's all in good hands now, Nordy... we can take it from here. I'm predicting only a 15% chance of needing a body recovery for any of us here... good hands, indeed..."
After a tiring, days-long journey, you reach Tar Kuata in the morning. Perched at the base of a high mountain valley, the monastery, the tiny village to its west, and a series of terraced fields are sheltered from the harsh winds and weather.
At the base of a high mountain valley, the monastery of Tar Kuata perches atop a rocky outcropping that overlooks a tiny village and terraced fields. The steep cliffs to either side shelter the small structures from the wind, and a tall, thin spire towers over the settlement.
As you approach, Menkha Helg, leader of the Ouat monks, assumes that you are the expected Pathfinders and welcomes you into the Hall of Aspirants. "It is a pleasure to meet you. How was your journey? Did you make it here safely?"
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The professor waddles up and bows to Menkha Helg.
Crack.
"Unh..."
The gnome appears "stuck" in a position where he's leaning forward, but nonetheless continues his salutation.
"... good, unh, neeeews, mystical Ouat, we've arrived safely and come bearing a delivery from the illustrious Pathfinder Society! Ow, ow."
The professor waves his hand at the other Pathfinders, clearly intending for someone to show the shipment and perhaps get a signature of receipt from Menkha Helg.
Menkha smiles upon seeing the gift. "Thank you very much! This is quite unexpected and highly appreciated."
"You have some time to pass so please feel free to explore the village and join me for a modest lunch in the Pahmet Hieghts with several other monks in about three hours."
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"Food? Oh, I'm famished from the journey... I could eat at least a four full almonds and at least two, maybe even three prunes!"
The professor bows in the Vudrani style, having studied the techniques of Irori a few hundred years ago when he was but a young gnome.
As he waddles about the village, he pays special attention for somewhere he can take an afternoon nap he can meditate on the ways of Irori.
After only a couple hours Menkha comes to fetch you. "We will be meeting with Itephta, a leader among the Ouat. You can speak with him about your reason for visiting."
Itephta is a young, mild-mannered Garundi man who listens attentively as you introduce yourselves. He openly asks Menkha her opinion of you. She replies with some humble praise. Itephta weighs her feedback before asking, "So what brings you here? I offer you thanks again for the gift of the grain. It is much appreciated. What news do you bring?"
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Before speaking with Itephta, Jorah mumbles to himself and the butterfly on his shield shines for a split second. He then begins speaking in his usual smooth, pleasing voice.
"Good sir, as you know we come from the Pathfinder Society. We are on a mission to find pieces of the Sky Key and have heard the Ouat may be in possession of such a piece. We would like to barter a deal with your group in exchange for this piece. We had heard of the struggles Tar Kuata had with the harvest this year and brought this grain as a token of our good faith."
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Castiel wisely let his golden tongued companion do the speaking. His appearance and manners often don't transfer diplomacy all too well.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Itephta nods knowingly, as if expecting this is what you would say. "I can confirm the relic’s presence within the monastery vaults,
and the other Ouat monks are willing to part with it if I so decide."
"You seek something we would give freely, but the relic is one heavy with the weight of history. Just as I would not ask a neophyte to lift a boulder before he can lift a stone, I cannot in good conscience burden you with this bauble without knowing your capabilities.
“When our students request greater responsibilities or greater challenges, we first ensure that they have mastered what they have learned before. I propose you experience the same courtesy I would extend to a student by undergoing a small portion of our training. It shall strengthen your body for the return journey and prepare your mind to weather your future trials.”
Itephta requires you demonstrate your abilities over the course of six trials before rendering a decision and giving you the Sky Key component you seek. With other business to attend to, he calls upon an aging monk named Aeotsep to serve as your guide, instructor, and evaluator.
Aeotsep is a Garundi man whose sun-weathered features and kind face are traced with a network of wrinkles. Like many other monks in Tar Kuata, he believes that experiencing and overcoming the trials ahead are an important part of any person’s path to self-perfection.
Aeotsep leads you to one of the study rooms, which contains several bookshelves, a small table, and a lectern on which there is an open copy of Unbinding the Fetters, the principle holy text of the Iroran faith. The elderly monk requests that you wait here while he prepares the other trials.
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The Professor hobbles into the study room and looks around the room two to three times before finally shaking a wrinkled fist.
"Darn you, Aeotsep! There's no cot nor lounge chair in this room!"
The gnome waddles up to the lecturn and begins to flip through Irori's holy text, wondering if this is all some sort of test of an old gnome's patience.
"Oh, don't worry... I can nap, errr uhh, meditate anywhere! Even during an arena match where I'm in the arena itself!"
The Professor shakes his fist at the other Pathfinders.
"Now, get to work you! There's more to Aeotsep's request than there seems to be!"
The book is open to a selected passage that elaborates on complex and subtle metaphors that compare stages of self-perfection to the creation of the world.
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The Professor eaglery scans the passage.
"Good neeeews everyone! It seems that Aeotsep conveniently left the book open to a section here that implies mortal knowledge is a spark of divinity that spins order out of chaos! Much like a Numerian whirly-washer can polish stones for Taldan imposters!"
The Professor considers the Pathfinder agents assembled in the room and wonders if perhaps the optimism of Irori pre-dated the Society.
When Aeotsep returns, he casually chats about the pages’ contents and pays close attention to Professor F, who has clearly read and understood the excerpt.
Aeotsep next leads you into the Hall of the Inward Gaze, which currently contains several broad reed mats, racks holding wooden weapons, and a pile of small wooden boards. The old monk reminds you that physical might is often mistaken for brute force, emphasizing that strength without control accomplishes little. To illustrate the point, Aeotsep takes a wooden board from the pile and outstretches his arm, holding the board in front of his face. With a swift movement, he releases the plank and strikes it in mid-air, breaking the board into two symmetrical halves. He invites you to repeat the feat.
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Castiel winces as the piece of board is sent flying across the room.
"Sorry mate, hard to hold back all this muscle"
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