The tiny dragon nods slowly. "Be on the lookout for my cousin!"
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Your group convenes on the outskirts of a busy market near the gates of an impressive looking estate that coils up the side of a steep hillside overlooking the Port of Merab in northern Thuvia. A sand colored dog sits at the entrance to the estate as if guarding for your approach. The dog glances back toward the hedge maze behind it and it raises up quickly, tail wagging.
“Our visitors are here, then? Good dog.” A voice calls out from the shadowed hedges.
An elvish woman, wearing a loosely wrapped red and white headscarf affixed at her shoulder with a scarab pin, steps out into the sunlight and smiles broadly. Most of you will recognize her as Diya Akan, blind Venture Captain of the esteemed Twisting Garden Lodge of Merab. Just to confirm who has arrived, she requests introductions. Once she has a sense of who is present, she continues. “Welcome, my friends. Come, the day grows short.”
Despite her obvious blindness, she navigates the maze with ease from memory as the dog trots lithely before her. It still takes nearly five full minutes to traverse the maze of hedges and sandstone walls leading to the center of the lodge. The path eventually opens onto a spacious courtyard with a large pavilion at the center.
Sitting at a large table, Amenopheus looks over a book with a bemused smile as a blindfolded Tahonikepsu cautiously sniffs at several metal vials bearing the marks of local alchemists. She confidently names each alchemist by the scent of the vial before adding with a smile, “The scent of blood, oil, and old books could only be our Pathfinder friends.” Amenopheus closes his book and pushes an ancient Azlanti coin over to the Diamond Sage, remarking that he should know better than to wager with dragons and that these games are merely distractions to relieve the tension of a serious situation.
Tahonikepsu rises, draws forth a small metal box, and opens it to reveal an onyx gem in the cushioned interior. “Our situation is actually quite fascinating, though I agree it presents some difficulties. Each of our order’s sage jewels houses the personality and knowledge of its creator. Through field tests and research, Amenopheus has made a remarkable discovery: each of the jewels contains a second and unidentified persona. Your comrades recovered this jewel, and its former bearer knew the source of this anomaly. He can best explain the situation.” Tahonikepsu intones a rite, and the morning light dims as the spectral image of a bronze-skinned dwarf manifests above the gem. He wears the simple garb of a warrior-monk, but his amulet bearing the uraeus over staff and scepter marks him as an advisor or guardian of the pharaohs.
“Greetings, stewards of knowledge. I am Padrym of Erekrus. I served the pharaohs of old and witnessed with sorrow the decline of a land of wonders. The Diamond Sage has asked me about a shadow within my sage jewel. I know this shadow as Aryana Tahari, an Usij necromancer who served at the court of the Pharaoh of Forgotten Plagues with me. Known to some as the Black Moon, her skill and wisdom were a dark reflection of the virtues of holy Thoth. She knew more of life and death than any living scholar of the time, and her enemies died horribly of exotic afflictions. She vanished from court for a time to her sanctuary beneath the village of Resa, set on a task the pharaoh personally assigned. I can sense her within the gemstone now, and casting back through memory, I feel her presence upon my every thought—perhaps even to my first acceptance into the order of Jeweled Sages.”
Amenopheus worriedly joins in. “The necromancer’s spirit has stirred recently. It may be that as more sages take up the sage jewels she grows in strength. The Usij are working to speed her awakening. With every passing year there is a growing chance she could seize control of us. While certain desperate measures—” Tahonikepsu frowns and Amenopheus hurriedly continues, “— may not be necessary yet, I have a plan to assemble the sage jewels in this necromancer’s sanctuary. There, in a place tied to her life, we can draw forth these fragments of her mind and safely destroy them with a ritual I have devised.”
Tahonikepsu nods excitedly. “We can safely remove this annoyance and perhaps discover some wonders this Tahari hid away. Regardless of her flaws, she seems a remarkable scholar. However, our numbers are too few to safely mount such an expedition. The Pathfinders have provided exemplary aid before; please assist us once more in preserving our legacy.”
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Cirri is surprised to be invited here, to the sanctuary of the Scarab Sages. She's heard a lot about them, and her journey to the ruins of Rahadoum were quite enlightening. If only they stuck to coastlines instead of deserts, she'd like it more.
"Oh boy, necromancers." Cirri sighs. "More undead.. I knew it! A real shame that this Tahari is running around like some kind of infectious disease..." She digs the end of her quarterstaff into the ground. "Still, we'll flush her out and boot her into the afterlife!"
Cirri feels her headband mentally tugging away at her mind, filling her with all sorts of facts about the Usij. Probably not pleasant facts.
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Know History
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Know History
The tall, lanky elf in the corner maintained his unsmiling countenance. He tried to recall anything about the tooics or discussion, but wasn’t having much luck. He moved slightly in frustration and the many vials he had strapped to him made a quiet tinkle as they brushed against each other.
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Sickly, the dwarf, unfortunately lives up to his name.
Constantly sniffling and coughing, his nose red and runny, despite the dry desert heat. All manner of unknown effluviants crust up in his beard, no matter how often he tries to wipe them away. He wears armor, and bristles with weapons of various sorts, though whether they are there to be used, or overcompensation, is hard to tell. The most noticeable of the armaments is a large hammer of dark adamantium on a long haft.
He is quiet and does his best not to draw attention whenever possible, clearly with some serious self-confidence issues. Unfortunately, the various symptoms combined with the constant wheeze of his breathing makes him hard not to eventually notice lurking nearby.
He seems to panic slightly, when the dog shows up, uttering a quiet "Oh no." before digging around desperately through a large bag kept easily accessible at his side. Even as he does so, you realize his eyes are starting to tear up, and his breathing is getting hoarser. With practiced precision, he withdraws a couple of vials of some unknown tincture, and takes a few quick gulps from both.
The reaction doesn't seem to go away, but it at least stops getting worse.
"Awergic" He mutters, in response as he throws a weak smile towards Diya, who can't see it.
He works his way through the maze slowly, lagging behind the others as he tries not to touch the hedges at all... which seems odd, until you notice him brush up against one while rounding a corner, and he ends up scratching at a rash that springs up at the point of contact for the remainder of the trip.
By the time they reach the sages, his breathing is coming in rasping gasps... clearly winded.
He listens to the Jeweled Sages with rapt attention, absently scratching at something just beneath his armor out of reach.
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The two sages pause to accept any questions from the group.
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"Usij...they are a cult that worships Ahriman and the divs. Ugh, those extraplanar beings love to see civilizations collapse. Before the Sarenite faith dispersed them, they served openly in the courts of pharoahs and kings. Maaaan, that kind of stuff is ripe for corruption." Cirri sighs. "This is why I don't do well with power."
Cirri pauses for a second like she has a headache. "Yup, just like I thought. The Usij's usual method is to approach the powerful as sages and advisors. They work pretty well for a while until they start undermining the leaders from within. Death, misery and destruction is their deal. The Sarenites kept their spirits at rest by sanctifying the Usij cultist's remains. Good idea!"
She turns to the living sages. "So we head to her sanctuary, bring all of the sage jewels to one location, and then... summon her... and then slay her?" Cirri thinks for a minute. "This sounds really risky. What if she takes control of one of you? What if we have to do the ritual while you're busy holding off the cult's last assault?"
"Oh! Thanks for inviting me, by the way! I know I'm not a member of the Scarab Sages, but when the call mentioned finding more relics in the desert for further study, I couldn't help but sign up!"
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Tahonikepsu nods as Cirri summarizes the general plan.
The sages glance at each other, and Amenopheus finally replies. “That is precisely what we are afraid of. The spirit of each jewel offers its bearer wisdom and knowledge from the past, but a second voice whispers and drives darker impulses. A thoughtless action or response could nudge one toward more ruthless methods. So far the urges are easily quashed, but they’ve grown more insistent.” Amenopheus steps forward to drive his point home." We truly have no idea what this ritual will unleash. As I said, we may need to resort to desperate mea-"
Tahonikepsu calmly cuts Amenopheus off. “Amenopheus suggested Tahari’s influence could be intrinsic to the sage jewels and that we should consider destroying them if the ritual fails. We are nowhere near considering such an option."
She rounds the table to tap each of your shoulders. "As to what to do if things go bad? For many years you have served honorably for the Society and indeed many of you for the Order of the Sages themselves. Suffice to say, we put our trust that you will be nimble in word and deed whatever situation should arise.”
Amenopheus breaks in. "Niko, all the remaining sages are gathering in the desert to the south of Merab. We shall confront this danger as an Order, along with you. Let our wisdom be your guide. Once we have found the ruins of Resa and determine a suitable location for the ritual, the Jeweled Sages will need your strength to complete it."
Tahonikepsu steps to the center of the room and addresses the group. "If you have more questions, I'm sure we can answer them on the journey there. Gather you provisions quickly, we leave before sundown."
As she turns to leave, Amenopheus adds "There is one final matter, though." Tahonikepsu stops suddenly and turns around, seemingly a bit larger and glaring expectantly at the Sapphire Sage.
Amenopheus produces a scroll sealed with purple wax stamped with a stylized swirl of smoke flame—one of the symbols associated with the Shadow Lodge. “Grandmaster Torch, through disreputable means, now bears the emerald sage jewel. Torch requests the opportunity to contribute to our expedition in person and purify his jewel. He is untrustworthy, but allowing the gem to corrupt him holds its own dangers. He was an ally once; perhaps he could be again. As Pathfinders, you may know him best. Should we invite him to join our expedition?”
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Amenopheus quietly tallies the will of the group.
"That seems to be that... majority wins. It was as I expected. I will inform the Grandmaster of his inclusion, I am sure he will be... delighted."
Satisfied with the vote, Tahonikepsu turns again and strides towards her quarters. "Sundown, in the courtyard."
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As sundown approaches, the group convenes with Diya Akan at the lodge. Tahonikepsu and Amenopheus stride out from the pavilion. As Tahonikepsu walks, her legs bow out and her arms outstretch until she realizes her true form, that of an huge purple dragon.
Amenopheus climbs easily onto her back just above her wings as if subtly practiced throughout the years. "Anyone else?" she asks in the same feminine lilt, only octaves deeper. "Do hold on."
Merab’s citizens shout and point in awe as the huge violet dragon launches into the air, soaring upward until the curvature of the world is visible and then down toward a long stretch of desert south of the Thuvian coast. As Tahonikepsu approaches over the sands, a small encampment comes into view. Two figures await on the sands below. As the great dragon swirls in for a gentler landing, you can see they must be the Topaz and Amethyst Sage.
Dhiara, the Topaz Sage, is a young Garundi Elven woman who rose to acclaim as a paragon of the Osirian monastery of Tar-Kuata and wears the holy symbol of Irori.
Sinuhotep, the Amethyst Sage, is quite the opposite. He is, quite unmistakably, a lich, and dresses as an aging Garundi man wearing violet robes and gold armbands studded with jewels. His visage is distinctly dessicated and thin, albeit protected somewhat from the ravages of time by the jewel he carries.
Tahonikepsu comes to a stop next to her fellow sages and Amenopheus slides off first, introducing each of you to the new Sages. As he finishes he looks about expectantly.
A small dot on the northern horizon, just above the waterline, grows until you can make sense of it. A rotund man in black leathers, leant back on a flying carpet (going much faster than you would have thought possible) glides effortlessly through the headwinds to your location.
"Ah, precisely on time. His time." Amenopheus mutters, catching himself when he realizes he spoke out loud.
Grandmaster Torch, now the Emerald Sage, divides the group evenly, bringing a full head of sea air with him as he lurches to a stop. He takes off an oversized set of goggles and struggles to pull off a silver helm to release tangled and greasy black strings of hair and also reveal deep red scars that stretch on his face and neck and surely cover the rest of his body in kind.
"My apologies, I came as soon as soon as I received the missive. I must admit, you had me worried." He stares at each of the Sages and then all of you, perhaps trying to discern who exactly held up the vote.
"All's well that ends. Well, you know." He places his helm and goggles deftly to his side and pulls a pack from behind him. "In case there are any doubters present, I have brought gifts." and smiles broadly.
"If only I could enlarge myself a few times, Cirri. Then you could fly in style!" Riddywhipple jumps on Tahonikepsu. "My my, what shiny scales. You've kept yourself in shape over all these years, Tahonikepsu. I'm impressed! I've munched on too many of Cirri's breakfast tarts." He slaps his tummy, which jiggles a little.
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Cirri is simply awestruck. She's seen some dragons before, yes. But never this large. Never this majestic. And certainly she's never rode one before! "Oh this is gonna be so cool! Come on Riddy, let's go!" She manages to catch herself and calm down before boarding the living creature that could snap her in two if they weren't allies.
Cirri takes whatever notes she can as she flies over the desert. The view is so cool from up here. "Do you fly over this all the time Tahonikepsu? Do you ever get tired of this view? What happens if you see a sandstorm? Have you ever flown above the clouds? Oh, how much of the world's curvature have you seen at once?" Cirri rattles off a stream of questions, insanely curious about the world in the eyes of a dragon. She tries not to compare it to the life of large birds, because that would be a grave insult to Tahonikepsu's intelligence. But, but- has she ever seen one?
A roc?
Once they are over the camp, Cirri hops right off the dragon and lets her feather fall ability gently carry her to the ground level. "Hot winds are everywhere, Riddy! Way different from the coast, or the frozen north! If only it weren't so dry. Man, I never get tired of looking at the ground from high up."
"Hi everybody! Real sorry about the div stuff but we'll beat them if we work together. I'm Cirri. This is Riddywhipple. And you're Dhiara, I'm pleased to meet you!" She tries to shake the woman's hand, if she'll allow it. "And your name is Sinuhotep? Uh...hi." Cirri keeps her distance from the undead thing and waves, trying to be respectful but also scared he will slurp her soul if they touch hands or something. Plus smart undead always forget to blink and breathe and it just creeps her out. No thank you!
Amenopheus prevents Cirri from embarrassing herself any further and formally introduces her. Grandmaster Torch arrives and introduces himself.
Cirri manages not to launch into a greeting but instead says a simple hello.
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A large man in both size and bulk enters the room. He wears a breastplate made of dragonhide and carries a quarterstaff in one hand. His body is festooned with various weapons of different shapes and uses. Wands and scrolls are tucked into his belt. All of his gear is stained with various coatings of rich earth.
"Amarok could not come. They sent me instead. I am Loxx. Maybe they think you need help through the desert. I don't live in a desert, but I've visited enough."
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Nikomedes stoically climbs onto the dragon's back and makes a poor attempt to hide his glee in riding through the air on the majestic being.
At the beach, he watches with interest as Torch lands his flying carpet on the sand and then peers through the pack with the rest of his companions.
Once done, he stands up and peers to the south, wondering which direction the party is headed. Then, almost as an afterthought, he drops his pack to the ground, removes his formula book and begins to study it.
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Cirri flips through one of her books, and finally stops on a picture of a creature with a pumpkin head and a bunch of vines coming out from the base.
"Oh. Gourd Leshy. The spirit of the harvest. They will believe anything you tell them, but their memories are deep. A betrayed gourd leshy rarely forgets. They sure are cute, too!" Cirri smiles and bends down to look at the creature.
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Tahonikepsu tries her best to keep up with Cirri's questions on the flight from Merab. It is evident that her answers become slightly more curt as time goes on and her attention is "taken up" with mundane shifts in flight pattern and "scrutiny" to details on the ground below.
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The group pulls a couple of scrolls from Torch's pack. He makes note to smile politely after each withdrawal.
"That should do for now. May the scrolls provide you what you need against the dangers we face." He pulls the drawstring on sack tightly shut. Noticing someone in the back, he nods.
"Ah, Hassam. It has been some time since we crossed paths. Funny, how small of a world this really is, when it comes down to it."
The Amethyst Sage tries to remain composed in light of all the newcomers. He smiles as lifelike as he can muster.
Tahonikepsu returns to her humanoid form and pulls delicate sandals from her pack, balancing on Amenopheus' gaunt shoulder as she struggles to place them on in the shifting sand. "We shall travel at night. The sands are much more hospitable that way. I expect us to find Resa sometime tomorrow. We will have a chance to rest, so do consider your spell preparations for the morrow."
"Do we not know exactly where we are going, surely there are much faster ways to arrive?" Torch questions, opening his pack again.
"Unfortunately not." Tahonikepsu turns to scan the horizon to the south. "The location of the forgotten city of Resa is a closely guarded secret among those who know. Both to guard that which dwells within and to protect our world from the same. Finding it will be quite a challenge, and a challenge best done up close, and on foot."
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Cirri finishes reading from her spellbooks. "Okay, I don't have much magic suited for long term travel. Well, I am well suited against cold temperatures. The Snowmask Clan inducted me in this ritual with lots of freezing water- long story!"
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Nikomedes turns his head and listens to the Sage and realizes his studying for the moment is for naught. Standing, he begins to shuffle around, looking for a spot of shade to make a temporary resting area. Once settled, he says. "I have no long term magics either..."
Sitting, he silently, but thoughtfully watches the other members of his party, his gaze lingering on Torch and the Sages.
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After a short rest at daybreak to sleep and regain spells, the group moves onward. Shortly before noon, the group traverses a large dune and at its peak, Tahonikepsu points out the village of Resa—now a flat stretch of desert, with a few scattered bricks the only sign of civilization. ”This is it. Time to prepare weapons and wards.”
Torch suppresses a laugh from behind. ”Exactly where my informants told me. Forty-five leagues due south of ---
The wind whips up as a deep feminine voice telepathically announces,
The ground shudders; then sand begins draining down unseen fissures and rising in plumes hundreds of feet high as ghostly buildings emerge from the desert. Dhiarra pulls out her sage jewel which grows brightly. Tahonikepsu screams. ”Put that away! The undead are roused by their proximitiy!” Quickly, the sages realize the sage jewels are the source of the effect and hurriedly try to suppress it as the voice continues.
In the village square, a basalt monolith suddenly looms amid an avalanche of humanoid bones.
The bones twitch as a wave of unholy energy washes over the area. Sickly gray flame illuminates the bodies as the dead rise up.
Tahonikepsu cries out over rumbling earth, “Pathfinders, that monolith empowers the dead. One of us will aid you in disabling it while the others hold the creatures at bay.” The winds howl in response as spectral giants appear and disappear within the whirling sandstorm descending on the area.
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Cirri has about a dozen questions to ask when the evil voice rings out. "Oh boy, here we go...lots of undead. Aww man. Riddy, get that scroll ready, the one we got from Torch."
When it's time to pick a Sage, Cirri gulps down hard. "Okay, okay. Um... Sinuhotep. Can you help us disable that monolith? You clearly know a lot about magical constructs." "Since you are one at this point." "Sorry! Force of habit! Let's shut that thing down!" Cirri prepares her staff and her spellbook for combat.
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The ground swells up with the writhing of countless corpses. They reach out, trying to twist their arms and legs around you. Fetch is the only one that succombs immediately.
Through the haze of the sandstorm, the monolith flashes with dim green energy.
Grasping Graves
Monolith
Ruprecht
Sickly
Hassam
Loxx (Deadeye's Lore)
Sinuhotep
Fetch (Longstrider) <grappled> -6 hp
Cirri
Nikomedes
Riddywhipple