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Amelia pulls out the scroll and casts haste on the group. Seelah gains and connects with her other attack, Amiri strikes true as well, cleaving the hapless foe in half.
Amelia - 2 damage
Seelah - 5 damage
Solange
Kahel - 17 damage
Wraith - 9 damage, 4 ST damage, poisoned
Amiri - 2 damage
Serpentfolk - dead
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With the combat now over for your group and the others, you tend to your wounds carefully as several of the other Pathfinder groups move to the strange altars at the corners of the room and their associated magic circles to study and record them.
One of the Pathfinder leads yells at you over his shoulder.
"You lot, get up those stairs and free that Azlanti, and see if he knows anything about what's the hell's going on 'round here."
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It took a three tries, but Kahel managed to get the wand to work well enough to mostly patch herself up. Once that was done, she replaced the wand in her haversack. Now that she was no longer bleeding profusely it was easier to focus on things.
"Let's go, time waits for no one. And I'm sure the general is probably in need of healing."
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Amelia sees that the healing is being well tended to, and tosses her wand over to Seelah to help out with everything.
Then, heeding the call from her superiors, she rushes up the stairs to help out the general. She starts removing his bonds, and helps him to his feet, checking to make sure all is well. "Sir.. Are you ok? what was going on in here?"
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As wraith quickly recovers from the serpent's poison, the group hastens up the steps to the Azlanti general. Solange will notice several marks on the fallen serpent priests she passes that she can remember to make useful notes about their faith and legacies.
The General himself is quite dazed from the ordeal but you can quickly ascertain that you can speak to him in Draconic.
"Yes, I will be alright. Thank you, for your bravery! Who is this army that has freed me? You do not look familiar at all."
You get the sense that he is looking around for weapons and wishes to depart here soon to rejoin his troops. It may take some smooth words to keep him here to talk.
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"Sir, Please. Just a moment of your time. We met up with some of your people.. apparently, your revolt is going well. The prisons have been emptied, and the serpent folk have mostly been defeated. We will help you get to your people, but please, we have some questions first. To answer yours, we are Pathfinders from the future. Many many years from now, your descendants will rule the majority of Golarian, and we are part of those people.
Now, What has been going on here? What have we walked into? Can you give us a quick run down of your situation and what led you here? What was that serpent priest doing to you?"
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Once again Kahel found she couldn't understand a word that was being said. As a linguist it was proving quite vexing. Of what use was being able to converse in the beautiful language of angels when those around you spoke the harsh tongue of dragons? With a sigh she resigned herself to months more of future study so that she would not encounter this problem quite so frequently, again.
"What does he say?" The kitsune scholar asked.
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The general is stunned by the revelation.
"You are from the future, but how? Never mind, it would addle my brain to learn of such sorcery. The point is you have rescued me and I am eternally grateful. No use explaining our situation, I am General Krahnaliara Lac Suhn, my warriors and I were captured, and now we will escape to fight the snakes again, as we have done since my father's father's time. No, help me get to my troops and I will tell you of the proud Azlanti culture, for that is what I want to endure into your time."
He moves downs the stairs, picks up a discarded club and through hurried breaths as you race through the serpentine corridors, describes to you undiscovered pieces of Azlanti lore and daily life, such as:
“I have always loved my grandmother’s ittho bread. Only used the honey from her own bees, and only fed them blossoms her grandmother brought back from the Western Colonies. Nothing ever tastes the same now.”
“Sorry. I start to get nostalgic around Peacock’s Dusk. These damn family holidays. They always remind me I still haven’t taken my boys to the Western Colonies. They love their little-folk nanny, and I thought they’d like to see one of the cities her people built.”
“It has also been many years since we heard from my great-grandmother’s descendants, but I sometimes imagine that when I gaze into the sky and see the red planet, they can hear my prayers for the health of them and our empire’s colony.”
“My wife is always trying to tie my chiton like an imperator, not like a general. See how it goes over, around, then under? I ask if she wants her husband flogged, and she just says she’d rather have her husband sit on the senate. Not a… not a subtle lady. Gods, I miss her.”
“Her name’s Vanaschen. I know, I know—am I crazy to have married a woman of the Eastern Colonies? I thought mother was mad when she arranged the marriage. I shouted out the garden blessing, I was so damn mad. But I suppose we’re all like that at that age. Once my whiskers came in and I stopped thinking of myself, I saw her for who she was: this fiery, passionate woman who didn’t need any of my excuses. Her father and my mother still argue over whose family officially joined whose—if we’re still Azlanti or perhaps tainted by Kellid blood. I swear Vanaschen would conquer both peoples just to quiet them, if she didn’t find it so damn funny. The way she pushes me to step up into mother’s senate seat, I think we’re still Azlani."
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When it was relayed that this man knew of a 'little folk nanny' Kahel grew excited.
If he answered her, Kahel would relay his words to the others.
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Amelia keeps a running translation of the mans words so that the rest of the party may understand the conversation.
"Who are your people sir? Where to do they come from?"
Amelia will translate for any member of the party, but she is confused what any of the mans explanations have to do with their current situation.
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"Amiri, learning about his society IS one of the reasons we are here. Discovering details of this war is all well and good. But already he's proven that we know little about the Azlanti empire. Just from what he's said already, we've learned some fascinating things which can direct future research. I for one am curious how the first world is connected to his people, and what he means by the red planet."
She then tried again in the language of the fey.
"That more so then being warriors or champions is the purpose of the Pathfinder Society. We seek, first and foremost, to learn our world's forgotten history. Can you tell us more about the western colonies and the red planet you mentioned? To my knowledge no one has left our world, yet your words imply it happens regularly in this time period. I find that most interesting and would love to learn more."
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"We already have learned much. Far more then we knew before. We've gained information on ancient religions and societies. And we've done more beyond that. We've rescued people who may have died without our intervention. Possibly having changed history with our actions, or maybe preserved it. I don't know. This man has been fighting a war. And was just almost sacrificed for unknown reasons. Is it really wise to act aggressive towards him?"
Wraith will say "sharing information about your people will help us. Help us, and we could be convinced to help you."
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The general stops in his tracks as Amelia's translations dwindle.
"You want help, I'll give you help!"
He draws his club into the air, and punctuates his words with subtle thrusts of his weapon.
“My warriors are no cowards! They didn’t surrender in the field, and if these snakes hadn’t taken their sikkar—their coiled knives—they never would’ve been taken alive.”
“We had separated into two regiments, with shield walls, and I sent the left flank wide to take the serpentfolk from behind. We’d been clashing near the mouth of the Ilssele for years, trying to push the colonies’ eastern borders.”
“The key to battling serpent-men is the night battle, or making your main thrust at dusk. Then the fatigue of battle hits the same time as the cold reaches their hearts. Slows them down. That was General Akorian’s secret to victory at Esrogas, when they tried to land on the homeland itself, and it still works all these years later.”
“Their war-beasts are fearsome, but subterfuge is truly what tore our lines down. Misinformation spread among the ranks, dissenters and the magically compelled turning on their own brothers. I’ve fought human opponents, and loath as I am to spill another man’s blood, I’d take that clean death over the slow, strangling suffocation these monsters mete out.”
“They took the lines at Ilssele. Broke our backs and killed most of my men. Olhas was perhaps a day’s march beyond. I doubt very much it’s still there.”
Suddenly there is a violent tremor that shakes the halls around you. Dust falls from cracks in the walls, both new and old. It almost sounds like...thunder. The General cuts his monologue short and laughs.
"The gods portend our futures now. I fear our paths lay on different destinies now. If you cannot find your way home and are here for good, I beg you to visit my wife and I. Our family's villa in the colonies... it is south from the Mierani forests, hugging the coast east for four days and then a shot southeast from the southern cape.”
Another thunderclap shakes the hall.
"I can clearly hear the sounds of my people's rebellion echoing in the distance. Thank you all, truly. I can now find my own way to what I seek. I pray that you can too."
General Krahnaliara Lac Suhn begins to separate from your group. His sillouette disappears into the darkness much faster than you would anticipate and the sounds of rebellion he spoke of fade suddenly.
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A crack of thunder and the tang of ozone cut through the complex. The figures before you, and indeed the walls, the floor, even the air itself seem to crumble and fall away like glittering sands through an hourglass. Unfamiliar figures—their heavy, hooded robes embroidered with the symbol of a winged eye—stand about the field, their hands crackling with lightning. Dozens of Pathfinder spellcasters lie dead at their feet. A gargantuan image of a woman appears and shimmers like a desert mirage. She has a regal bearing, but her features are lined as if by years of endless duty.
”Arrogant Pathfinders! Your ridiculous Society spends fortunes and lives to reassemble a treasure that turns time itself like the pages of a book—a key that could undo all the misery and suffering our world now knows—and you use it for this? Poking at snakes and playing at heroism? Golarion knew a true hero once! Our Lord Aroden—who raised the Starstone from the sea and imprisoned the undead tyrant Tar-Baphon—could already walk the world again were it not for your petty games and delays. Every death in your hours of playtime now hangs as a weight around your collective necks, you spoiled children.
“I am Lady Arodeth, and on behalf of the Harbingers of Fate and the God of Mankind himself, I have seized your Sky Key. Its defenders threw their lives away trying to stop compassion and destiny from returning to this world. I advise you not to throw your own lives away attempting to do the same.
“Behold the return of the Last Azlanti! Behold Aroden!”
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The robed Heralds begin casting, and arcs of lightning leap to the rods made of skymetal. A deep thrum from somewhere below reverberates with chest-tightening force, then the earth begins to heave and quake. Emerald green miasma lashes out, snaking back along the arcs of arcane lightning and infecting hooded casters throughout the crowd. Your body—or perhaps the whole world—crumbles to dust and you hear a distant scream of “She’s overloaded it!”
And just as swiftly, the world is whole again, but in place of a flower-speckled field stands the sprawling marketplace of a small city. Ivory-white buildings and columns feature reliefs and endless statuary all depicting physically perfect human specimens in poses of glory over serpentfolk.
A chiton-clad crowd of gawkers stares, both at you and at the roiling dome of green light that encompasses nearly a square mile of territory, beyond which this strange city stretches on.
Robed Heralds panic as they sprint beyond the edges of the glistening dome, only to collapse just beyond its border. There they scream and writhe, their bones cracking as flesh and sinew age to dust in mere moments. Meanwhile, those unfortunates consumed by the green miasma scream and stagger, their features warping and bloating as if the power seeking refuge within them were too big for mere flesh to contain.
And high overhead, a looming stone glows with a light visible even in the growing light of dawn.
The sudden appearance of a massive crowd in their midst, combined with the long-standing war and chaos in the sky, proves too much. The crowd of onlookers grows angry, then defensive, yelling threats in Azlanti to order you out of their city and summon the guards.
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Amelia just looks on as the groups pushing seems to have unhinged the general before them. As he takes off, Amelia shakes her head and mutters to her herself "Gods go with you and yours, sir." before turning back to their own duties. However, before she can go far, all hell breaks loose. She cries out in dismay at the sight of her fellow spellcasters lying cold and still, and anger fills her as the woman appears, proclaiming their doom.
When the dust settles and the caves disappear, Amelia looks about, but is easily able to recognize her surroundings.
"What?! Wha.. Oh, NO!!" Amelia exclaims, taking in the sudden carnage. She turns to her companions, worried and frightened. "Wh have somehow been transported back to ancient Azlanti, and we have less than 2 hours before the Skyfall.. trust me, we want to be nowhere near this time period when the Starstone collides with us. This event caused a millennium of darkness and chaos!"
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"So... let me get this strait. Someone is mad enough to try pulling the dead god Aeroden into our time using the sky key. They targeted it to before Aeroden became a god, which could potentially mean there never was a god Aeroden. Never mind that this act would prevent every single important thing said god did. And they created this intersection of time periods at the point where the Starstone first fell? So my question is, what happens to our time period if the sky key isn't deactivated before the star stone impacts?"
Kahel was quite pale, although it would have been hard to tell this due to her fur. "On second thought, I don't want to know what would happen. I say we need to shut down the sky key before that happens. Let's go!"
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A hundred guards, brandishing swords and crossbows, fill the area near the fountain. Groups of concerned citizens angrily point to you and your fellow pathfinders (numbering around two hundred) as you gather close and circle up for defense upon the fountain. Some of them have pulled daggers and approach you cautiously. The screams of women and children echo in the street as the Azlanti citizens experience their first encounter with dwarves, gnomes, and half-orcs.
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"Regardless, we need to move. And we need to shut down the sky key as soon as we can. if not sooner."
With that said, Kahel started to move. She didn't want to fight those guards. For one thing,there were too many of them. At the same time she made sure that a defensive screen of wind was circling around her.
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"Amiri, head east aiming between the guards and we will follow. Use your 'charm' to get them to back down but don't hurt anyone. Head to the dome center (south) once we get free of the crowd. A haste spell use might be nice too. Do we have any left?"
I think we just want to punch through and run south.
"Amelia, some kind of explanation that we just want to leave might help"
"We just want to leave. We mean no harm. Please let us pass." yelling in common.
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As the group begins to interact with the crowd, speaking in words they don't understand, they become more agitated. It isn't until Amiri displays her raw power that the crowd simmers for a moment, just long enough for you to notice a newcomer to the fray. Or should I say newcomers?
A familiar figure limps out from between two buildings. The weight of years seems to hang over Kreighton Shaine, the Pathfinder Society’s illustrious Master of Scrolls, his face more deeply lined than it was this morning. Out of your peripheral vision, you can see other identical Kreighton Shanes, spreading out to greet the other Pathfinder groups assembled. The combination of that sight, Amiri's sword, and perhaps the success of other groups in communicating with the crowd leads them to disperse to the surrounding buildings, some much faster than others.
“My apologies for not reaching you more quickly, but I have been quite distracted,” he pants. To the left and right across the ancient marketplace, other versions of Kreighton Shaine are speaking to other, equally bewildered Pathfinders. “It seems redundant to say so at this point, but the Harbingers of Fate have seized control of the Sky Key, and we all appear to be trapped in what the Isle of Kortos used to be eons ago. The same sort of temporal bubble that brought the serpentfolk city of Sessegishoss to us now keeps our forces pinned down here."
It is a bit distracting to concentrate on your own personal Kreighton Shane as his voice and similar phrasing is echoed in dozens of conversations around the marketplace.
“We are attempting to uncover the Sky Key Vault now. While the vault itself seems to be here in this time period, our entrance to it wasn’t projected back, and we’ve lost our bearings relative to its location in this new landscape. What’s more, I worry simply reclaiming the Sky Key will not be enough to allow our escape— that green surge we all witnessed seems to have invested many of the Harbingers with enough of the Sky Key’s energy to maintain our chronological exile.”
Shaine looks worriedly up at the sky. “We will need to work together to uncover the vault and cut the tethers that anchor this time period to the Harbingers’ spellcasters. We must do both so we can use the Sky Key to escape.” A crack of thunder sounds overhead as the dome of green light twists and arcs down to the surface with a thunderous crash, and strange, hairy beasts stride where it struck. “And we would be wise to move quickly.”
"Here you may need these." He hands each of you a potion . The other Kreighton Shanes do likewise to their charges across the marketplace. "Any questions before we move on?"