"This is my sanctuary. It has been for nigh on 200 centuries. I have been tasked as the Watcher of Ages, and that I have dutifully done."
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Vladek looks sideways at Bauble and sighs. Normally, he'd be much less hesitant to try joining them, but after experiencing his first death his previous adventure (and a somewhat excessively terrifying one it was), he feels it's a bit soon to press his luck further.
"How long would YOU give them, Bauble?"
The sentinel seems disinterested, but amicable towards your fellow agents.
"The empty shell is of no use to me. Take it if you wish. My creators have provided for me, so I can fulfill their task."
"Aeons ago, a cabal of aboleth mystics desired to pierce the veil of what is now known as The Age of Lost Omens. The created me as a Watcher of Time and tasked me with recording history up until and beyond the death of the last Azlanti, in an attempt to have an accessible source of information through the ravages of time. I know not if I am a succes, but I'll stand vigilant until my creators tell me otherwise."
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Torvald emerges from the bubble, a desiccated corpse slung over Ka's saddle. Once everyone is outside he raises one hand marked with the bow and arrow symbol of Erastil and sends out a pulse of glowing green energy filled with the smells of spring flowers, fresh grass and rain.
Well, that was interesting
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Nuar emerges from the bubble injured and looking concerned.
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"I'll be honest, I was more than a bit concerned we'd never see you again," Says Vladek, his expression one of typical Elven enigma, but his voice betraying a hint of relief. "I've heard horror stories about doorways that turn out to be spheres of annihilation and such."
"I see you made...a friend?" He states/asks, gesturing to the mummy.
Much like the ring you recovered in the Hold of Belkzen, this ring possesses a strong divination and necromancy aura.
Scouting the rest of the dilapidated ruin, you drive off a handful of morlocks but find nothing else of interest.
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With your goal achieved, you exit the Collapsed Halls and travel back down the the Maiestas River and overland to Macini, where you book passage on a merchantman back to Sothis. There, Venture-Captain Norden Balentiir eagerly listens to your report, his wonderment at hearing about the alien watcher eclipsed by his interest in the ring. With the artifacts handed over, you enjoy some well-deserved rest, albiet with Balentiir's next job already on the horizon.
Venture-Captain Norden Balentiir of the Sothis Lodge in Osirion has always been friendly and courteous—especially when he wants something. He greets you with tea and a platter of sweetcakes, so it comes as no surprise that his next words are details of a new mission.
“Rumors stir in Varisia, rumors of a long-lost Osirian concubine named Kamilah and her fantastic treasure. According to my sources, her tomb lies somewhere near the lakeside community of Whistledown. While mere tomb-raiding is beneath Pathfinders of your experience and skill, my sources claim that this concubine wore a simple silver ring bearing Osirian glyphs, and wielded the famous silver sword, Desert Raven. The ring, historians say, commands ancient and forgotten powers and is likely quite dangerous. Go to Whistledown and find the concubine’s body as well as her ring and sword. Return them to me, and you’ll likely be remembered in future chronicles as the heroes of Osirion!”
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"A hidden tomb full of unknown dangers? This sounds right up my alley. I'll have my team ready," Shel nods excitedly, gnoshing on one of the provided sweet cakes. Looking around at the others, and seeing the room of familiar faces, she tells the VC, "I believe you made a wise decision. This group has been responsible for smashing successes in the past. We won't let you down this time."
Balentiir gives Shel a devilish smile.
"I of course always make wise descisions, but I do love it when a group comes together."
Answering Naur's question, he takes on a more professional mien.
"I've booked you passage on a ship to Korvosa, and from there it's a week's travel by foot to Whistledown. Less if you secure horses or the like, of course."
Naur knows that the town of Whistledown is one of the few settlements in Varisia not affiliated with either Korvosa or Magnimar, though it is located almost exactly halfway between the two larger cities. The town is known primarily as the heart of the gnome population in Varisia, despite the fact that it contains just as many humans as gnomes.
Kamilah, however, is a much more obscure reference. She could have been the concubine of a thousand different Osirian princes, but Naur recalls a reference to an arms dealer by that name, who was active in the region in the period leading up to the founding of Korvosa.
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Well my friends, it looks like we are in for a long journey although that does open up some options for us. If we wish I can Commune with my lord to try and learn more about the lay of the land in Whistledown.
On top of Naur's recollections, Vladek kan add that Whistledown is a common resting place for Varisian caravans travelling along the Dry Way.
Balentiir gives Eolowyn a sardonic look.
"I believe your pair of overgrown eagles fall under 'or the like'"
"You're more than welcome to pay the Heidmarches a visit, but Whistledown is more or less halfway between the two cities, so you'd not reach it faster that way."
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"Bauble ready!"
During the trip Bauble casts Animal aspect on himself, producing interesting limbs and claws the like and frolicking in the rigging, climbing about the outside of the hull, or swimming like an otter if the ship ever remains relatively still for a while. Fortunately the spell only lasts 8 minutes, but then again he can cast it 6 times per day. The day of arrival he ceases his antics though, preparing more sensible spells.
The journey northwards is uneventful, and you reach your destination as planned.
A ragged dog picks its way along the outskirts of the small, wooded town of Whistledown that runs along the edge of a vast, still lake stretching far into the gray horizon. Wide, overhanging branches of the tall juniper trees scattered throughout the community shadevthe simple white cottages that make up the homes. Wooden chimes hang from the eaves of nearly every dwelling, clinking gently in the light afternoon breeze. The townsfolk, a mix of gnomes and humans, go about their business with a scarcely concealed tension, tossing nervous glances over their shoulders and ushering children hurriedly indoors.
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Torvald, not wanting to startle the townsfolk, directs Ka to settle in a nearby tree while continuing on into town on foot. He looks for someone who might have some authority, in the hopes that they can conclude their business quickly.
As he heads into town he will spend a little time stopping by stores, chatting to locals, farmers, shopkeepers and the like to see what has the townsfolk on edge. He wears his holy symbol of Erastil prominently and lets people know that he will be happy to provide any clerical services while he is staying here.