The medusa manages to evade most of Pad's fire spell, though it scorches a bit. Amsheagar avoids being petrified, and works his dispel on the medusa
Jebediah closes his eyes and tears into the medusa. Glaurung misses while Pad grapples and pins the medusa in the end.
---
Nalshene
Pad
Jeb
Shin
Glaurung
Amsheagar
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Medusa (133, pinned)
---
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Somewhat mollified, Shin begins reciting a Iroran koan in his head to calm his emotions and maintain his grasp on the snake woman. "I'm good enough...I'm smart enough...and doggone it, people like me..."
Pad shakes up the eardrums of the medusa, while Amsheagar works on the eyes, but still has trouble penetrating the medusa's defences.
Jebediah then makes short work of the medusa, tearing her to pieces.
A secret door to the northwest hides a small room that contains a large circular bed, five fine silk dresses, and six potions of cure critical wounds.
A small shrine to Asmodeus sits in the northeast corner, on top of the shrine lies a single piece of parchment upon which is inscribed Stavian I’s record of birth—a simple but powerful document that Asmodeus saw was delivered to Suasandra not long after Cadimus’s final ride.
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Once Nalshene is restored to herself, she happily pays back any gold spent by her comrades on her de-stone-ifying using the chump change that her personal trade route (Caravan vanity) makes for her that week.
"So, that medusa only got me with the petrification, eh? I suppose I'll have to buy a pair of those glasses that you have, Pad. I'm amazed at how poorly prepared I was for this mission. I must get better, there is no excuse for such thoughtlessness!"
---
Gaze into the Heavens in wonder. What secrets do the stars hold? What of Aballon the Horse and Castrovel the Green? What strange creatures dance in the dark upon such worlds, and what chariot could reach them? Many have visited the planes, have hunted Elysium and dreamed in Leng, yet how many have trodden the skin of other worlds?
There, hanging above us, gloats Somal—thus the Azlanti called the moon— smiling down upon we who wander the surface of the Cage of Golarion. What strange creatures are watching us as we go about our business, and what blight blemishes her surface with the Moonscar?
---
—From the journal of Cladrann Thashkrell
After celebrating the success of the raid on the tomb of the Iron medusa, things turn easy for while, and there is the time for some leisure activities in Varisia, do som work at the Academy or craft some double entendres. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, until Shinkeer goes missing - vanishing without a trace.
Shinkeer Aswander, so the investigations lead the group to believe, was last seen with an attractive woman (not Glaurung) in a tavern, the Dancing Lancer. The lead, however, is cold, and Shinkeer is nowhere to be found. Two days pass, until Nalshene receives a sending spell: Meet me at the Lancer tavern tomorrow, I can help you with Shinkeer. the message merely says.
At the appointed time, the group meets a man in an eyeless, red leather mask who motions for them to sit down before speaking in a hushed voice that sounds as though it might be disguised with magic.
“I apologize for my rudeness in contacting you so suddenly and briefly, and thank you for meeting me here. I cannot tell you my name, for I am a member of the Decemvirate, and my ability to guide the Pathfinder Society hinges on my anonymity. What is doubtlessly more important to you than my name is how I can help you.
“In recent months, I have been investigating the disappearance of a high-ranking Pathfinder agent named Osprey, and have discovered a series of similar disappearances throughout the Inner Sea region, all of which occurred under similar circumstances. In each case, the missing person was last seen with an attractive stranger, and appeared to be rapt with the new acquaintance’s beauty and charm. Reports in most cases place the missing individual in the company of the same stranger in the Nirmathi city of Skelt, from whence the party is said to have traveled south toward a recently active volcanic ridge called the Growling Skald. Your missing friend is among those whose disappearance matches this pattern.
“Our divinations have located several of those who vanished on the moon. Long have reports spoken of a demon-tainted jungle on the surface of the moon—what we on Golarion see as the Moonscar. It is there that I believe those abducted have been taken, though for what sinister succubus plot I know not. Few have the means to venture into such a realm, which is why I am here, now, with you. There is little I can offer you beyond pointing you in what I hope is the right direction. Yet if you can find a way to the Moonscar and retrieve not only my missing agent and your friend, but any other captives of the demons there, then my faith in you has not been misguided. Whatever plan the Moonscar’s Insatiable Queen and her servants have in the works, it has sped up drastically, and I fear for us all should they not be stopped.”
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A tall, swarthy Keleshite almost struts into the room and nods to the masked man, then turns to survey the rest of the party. As he walks he is accompanied by a cacophony of tinklings, ringings, and chiming as the myriad flasks, bottles, and other arcana jiggle on his belt and shoulder straps.
"Greetings, I am Venture Captain Ezrek Filosten. I am very exicted to get back into the field, so to speak." Rubbing his jaw, he frowns. "I am familiar with this Aswander. Shinkeer is a quiet sort, monk if I recollect, though he had a penchant for magic. Doesn't surprise me, the quiet types are always the ones to get into trouble."
Yes, the missing people. Shinkeer is not the only one on the missing list. We are missing several famous people - we believe all are interconnected somehow. A paladin of Smiad, Fizzbeard Dragonfiend. A dhampir, Constantin Vladescu. A magus just known by the name '42', a teenage of the Stoneclaw clan, a cheerleader called Sharpston, and one of our finest seekers, Osprey.
The mysterious then explains about the Growing Skald: On the eastern rim of the Mindspin Mountains in what most would call Nirmathas—though few would wage war over such desolate, uninhabited borders—stands the Growling Skald, an isolated volcanic ridge averaging 11,000 feet in elevation. The geological formation earned its name from its periodic rumbling, though it otherwise remains inactive, and local legend claims the mountain holds within it the restless spirit of a powerful giant who tells his tale one slow syllable at a time. Few take more than a passing interest in the ridge; its stone faces are barren, and the tree line ranges at a far lower elevation than normal, ending abruptly on the southern bank of the Shining River, so it holds no draw for Nirmathas’s many lumberers.
We believe the Growing Skald might hold a secret - nothing less than an ancient Azlanti gate. If we put all the pieces together, we may very well expect this is what you are looking to get to the Moon.
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Nalshene's face gets deadly serious.
"Kaylee Sharpston is missing? When did this happen, and why was I not informed immediately? The girl is my protege'... I took her under my wing several months ago. The poor girl has been through a lot... if she is in trouble... we are leaving at once."
Nalshene readies for the trip to the moon as quickly as gnomish-ly possible.
The Growling Skald is a place one does not venture for fun. A smoldering volcano, its caldera spewing smoke and fire, surrounded by sulphuric lakes and an air that makes the eyes water. The good news is that not much else makes its way here, so the path is safe.
The path leads through a forested route, until the volcano rises up in view. Just as the party is about to emerge from the dense foliage a voice is heard: Who travel to the growling Skald? Who seeks to dance on the volcano in the light of the moon?
A tall half-elven man, his face painted and his head covered with a crown of a stag's antlers emerges from the forest. More figures appear from the woods, clad in similar style. The shining stand, guardians of the rivers and the woods. That's who we are. We ask you, those not native to these lands, what brings you here?
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Jebediah dips his head in acknowledgement of the man's question.
"That is reasonable to ask. I am Venture Captain Jebediah Heliotrope. My colleagues and I are investigating an alarming collection of disappearances from across the Inner Sea Region. We have reason to believe that it involves the Insatiable Queen of the demon-blighted jungle known as the Moonscar, and that they have been using the Azlanti Gate hidden within the Growling Skald to transport their victims across the void between Golarion and its moon. We seek to find the Gate ourselves, and hopefully use it to transport to the Moonscar, and stop whatever foul plan has been set into motion."
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"Ah! Poor Fizzbeard! A loyal chap, and quite spirited but far too stuffy in his faith. Sounds like there are a lot of good folks trapped up there though so we should get moving. An Azlanti Gate, eh? Interesting. Let's hope it works the way you plan."
Glaurung stays quiet and lets Jebediah lead the conversation with the half-elf, as the saurian shaman seems similar to the wild stranger.
We guard the river and woods, the volcano is your own terrain. It spews and growls, but it is hardly natural. In the light of the moon, the standing stone of the slope glows white, and glow comes from within...
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Any light of the moon will do or does it depend on a particular lunar rotation? I've heard many young lovers promise each other the moon, but little did they know the trouble it could bring. Betsy, I'm afraid I will have to leave you behind. Pardon me, but would you do me the favor of allowing my squire Pippy to tend to my new milk cow while we are gone? Poor Betsy...and Skinkeer. A volano is no place for livestolk or an infatuated monk.
He hands the reins of Betsy to Pippy, a gnome clad in brightly colored garb.
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Ezrek nods to Pad in appreciation. "Took the words right out of my mouth, my good man!" Turning to the guardian of the wood, he asks. "Have others been this way recently? Perhaps a love-struck monk, a fervent paladin of questionable stature, an angst-filled teen that goes by a number, or perhaps a squirrly looking chap, likely a druid, with the name of a bird?"
Strange creatures having been pouring out of the Growing Skald at night. The birds keep watch, but we know not of their activities.
The stone glows come moonshine at night, be it waxing or waning