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Deep within the temple lies a truly unholy site: a pinprick in reality where Ydersius once reached through reality to sire a demigod thousands of years earlier. Here, the temple’s high priest and Ydersius’s blessed descendants gather to pray and make sacrifices to their god. For the occasion of Spent Coils, they have captured an incredible prize to feed the serpent god: The Azlanti general Krahnaliara Lac Suhn. Lac Suhn managed to kill one priest in his struggles, but he has finally been restrained and is ready for sacrifice as the Pathfinders arrive.
Some heavy presence within this massive, domed chamber claws at the chest and weighs the air itself down. Strange glows emanate from the cardinal points of this massive, circular chamber. In the center of the room, an elevated, spiraling staircase entwines a column of stone, atop which sits an altar.
The temple’s high priest, the ancient and twisted serpentfolk cleric Xassvissec, utters prayers over the chained form of the Azlanti general Krahnaliara Lac Suhn while preparing the sacrifice. Various serpentfolk and reptilian abominations touched by Ydersius’s divine nature stand by to witness the rite.
The serpentfolk look shocked as the mass of Pathfinders enter their sacrificial chamber and move to attack. "You can't sssstop usss now! One utters out in broken draconic.
While the rest of the pathfinders deal with the leader a pair seem to break off and focus on your group as they quickly begin to shift and form into multiple copies.
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Serpentfolk (Red-; MI 5)(Green-; MI 2)
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Ghreezd
Garret
Cadaeacus
Kintampo
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"Ah, yes the infamous, 'You can't stop us" statement before being stopped and likely killed... yes, yes. We've heard that one before, and I'm sure some dolt will say it again some other time... and he'll die too!"
Ghrezzd raises both of his hands toward the ceiling. Then, reaching out and clinching his fists as though he has grabbed the ceiling, he brings his hands down violently. A rain of dirt, gravel and small pebbles fill the area striking the serpentfolk and all their replicas.
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Ghreezd brings the ceiling crashing down on top of the Serpentfolk. They shield themselves as much as they can as a large portion of the cavern covers in small rock and debris.
Garret turns his morningstar into a magical weapon as he moves in to protect the others. Cadaeacus goes on the defensive as Kintampo swings his crackling staff at the red Serpentfolk.
Kintampo's staff cracks against the serpentfolk's chest and it disappears into small motes of dust as one of the images evaporates.
The Serpentfolk smite Garret and Kintampo as they fight back with tooth and claw. Though the smite only seems to have an effect against Garret.
The fast moving serpent folk tear through the Pathfinder's soft flesh with glee. Another sssacrifice!
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Serpentfolk (Red-9; MI 4)(Green-9; MI 2)
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Ghreezd (27/27)
Garret (30/45; (green smite))
Cadaeacus (35/38)
Kintampo (41/49)
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Garret swings his morningstar in a wide arc at the green serpentfolk. The serpentfolk easily ducks beneath his swing as his dark powers begin to crush the forces of good.
Cadaeacus continues to heal his allies while Kintampo is able to tell which image is the true image if for but a moment and strikes. The staff slams into the serpentfolk's arm, crippling it.
The serpentfolk's body easily absords and resists the fire and the majority of the electricity from Kintampo's staff.
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Serpentfolk (Red-36; MI 4)(Green-9; MI 2)
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Ghreezd (27/27)
Garret (38/45; (green smite))
Cadaeacus (38/38)
Kintampo (49/49)
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Ghreezd hurls a massive snowball at the green serpentfolk.
With Ghreezd's snowball intensified it is able to pass right past the majority of the serpentfolk's spell resistance, though the creature's natural protections fortify it against a large portion of the cold.
The serpentfolk fight tooth and claw to the death.
The serpentfolk slip on the loose rubble and are only able to land a single blow each.
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Serpentfolk (Red-36; MI 4)(Green-36; MI 1)
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Ghreezd (27/27)
Garret (29/45; (green smite))
Cadaeacus (38/38)
Kintampo (44/49)
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Garret continues to batter at the serpentfolk's defenses as it hisses mere inches from his face in delight at the prospect of fresh prey. Cadaeacus sends more missiles at the serpentfolk that strike true despite its many images.
Kintampo swings his staff twice in quick succession as he tries to jab it into the serpent's chest. His staff barely nicks the creature cracking a couple of scales as it dodges the brunt of the blow.
Though Kintampo andGarret miss they get close enough to tear apart three more of the images while Ghreezd stays defensive.
The serpentfolk stay low and try to take out the invaders once and for all.
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Serpentfolk (Red-46; MI 2)(Green-36)
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Ghreezd (27/27)
Garret (19/45; (green smite))
Cadaeacus (38/38)
Kintampo (37/49)
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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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Dozens of Harbringers of Fate begins to release lightning all over the flat plains.
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.
But between Arodeth’s own inexperience with the Sky Key’s technology and the excessive amount of electricity her mages and elementals channel into it, her plan has fallen apart. The device has overloaded, discharging temporal energy into the Harbingers’ assembled casters. The new temporal bubble has now projected the Pathfinder Society members and the Harbingers of Fate backwards in time, and it sustains them there just as the first bubble sustained the serpentfolk of Sessegishoss who were brought forward.
The overloaded temporal bubble is much stronger, with the potential to sustain itself indefinitely—or at least long enough for it, the Pathfinders, and the entire world to be destroyed… in Earthfall.
The area encompassed by the green half-sphere is several hundred feet in diameter, which makes tracking down the Harbingers of Fate and moving from one area to another relatively easy.
The Pathfinders do not arrive unnoticed. The Harbingers’ temporal bubble delivered them to the Azlanti city of Lacsuhnollo, a sizable colony city in the region that will one day become the Isle of Kortos. The Azlanti citizens here have endured a long conflict with the aboleth and their ulat-kini minions, yet for the past several hours, they have fearfully watched a star in the sky grow brighter and more ominous.
Though the citizens of Azlant are more accustomed to everyday magic than even the cosmopolitan residents of Absalom, these humans of the past have never laid eyes upon dwarves, gnomes, or half-orcs. 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 these strangers out of their city and summon the guards.
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"It seems that our fates have been altered; we are near the moment of Earthfall, and in less than two hours, we shall be part of the Boneyard as Darkness will fall upon Golarion.", Cadaeacus prophecies.
His brow furrows as he realizes that he is unable to communicate with the surrounding Azlanti. "Ghrezzd, do you have any means to allow myself or Garret to speak to these people?"
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With Kintampo's show of might the crowd quickly begins to disperse and women and children dash off in all directions.
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.
“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.
“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.”
Shaine distributes a single potion of CMW to the group before he asks if there are any further questions.
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"And what do you mean with 'cutting the tethers that anchor this time period to the Harbingers’ spellcasters'? Are you saying we should kill them?"
“That’s the lovely part: I’m not completely sure. Advanced magical theory was always more Aram’s bag. But then, it does seem to be a sort of magic, so anything you have to shut down magical effects should do the trick. And if it is a magical effect, it will certainly expire upon their deaths—tragic, certainly, but better than all of us dying here. Then again, these Harbinger spellcasters must be of some relative skill based on the spells they performed. You may be able to coax them into dismissing the effects themselves, though their temporal investitures seem to have made them a bit… erratic.”
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Cadaeacus studied this area quite a bit in the Societies vast library and knows a few locations that the vault could reside.
Garret and Kintampo helps him narrow down the locations to a few that make a bit more sense than others.
With a bit more thought the Pathfinders are sure to figure out where the vault could be located. Though they are interrupted as an arc of green lightning gathers above and crashes to the surface, leaving something bizarre in its wake.
A seething cloud of smoke and flame remains behind and a pair of skeletal champions claw forth from the soil.
Ghreezd
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Skeletal Champion
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Garret
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Smoke Monster
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Cadaeacus
Kintampo
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Ghreezd hurls snowball of packed ice at the blast shadow, which slams right into its chest. The cold snowball seems to have an effect on the surrounding smoke and cloud and the smoke cloud is dispelled making it easier to find the fiery undead within.
The blast shadow shrieks in pain as the cold snowball shatters against it as it seems to be quite vulnerable to the cold.
Garret steps back and bolsters himself.
Enraged the blast shadow at Ghreezd and claws at the wizard.
The shadows flaming claw slams into Ghreezd's magical armor to no effect as flames trickle down the aura.
Looking closer at the shadow Ghreezd notices features of himself in the undead's face. Concerned he looks about and finds that the two skeletal champions also look a bit familiar as they seem to bear Cadaeacus and Garret's clothing though far more aged and tattered.
Could this be a sign of things yet to come? Did you not escape in time?
Ghreezd
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Skeletal Champion
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Garret
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Blast Shadow (-52; cloud of smoke and fire 5 rounds.)
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Cadaeacus
Kintampo (34/49)