|
You are in Absalom, the mighty City at the Center of the World, and while conversing with the patrons at a local tavern, you've heard rumors of a sealed siege castle that has been laid open by a minor earthquake. Word on the street is that no one has yet entered the tower, which folks are calling the Fallen Fortress.
A courier was sent for you early in the morning, and you were rudely awakened to a knock on your door at the inn, and a note sent from Venture Captain Ambrus Valsin's office requesting that a group of six Pathfinders explore the long-abandoned, dusty halls of the Fallen Fortress, and report back with their findings. Perhaps you'd even claim some ancient treasures in the process.
Now back in the tavern, you look around for familiar faces with whom to carry out your exploration to the derelict tower.
|
A heavily tattooed elf rushes down the stairs. He does not resemble most elves from Avistan, with their noble bearing. He is coiled for fast movement, his long flaxen hair gathered in a loose topknot, looking for all the world more like a recently uncaged wild animal than a temperate socailite.
"Hot water," he requests, as he pulls out a few dried leaves. When his water arrives, he steeps the leaves and makes a tea of some kind. He sits cross-legged on the floor, meditating.
Well, not really meditating. He notices the group gathered, gulps down the tea with a scalding grimace, and approaches the group. "I am Cazithiel, devotee of exile. Shall we travel?"
|
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
As Irvine heard the knock he let out a disturbed grunted which seemed to intensify into a growl the longer the knocking continued. When the knocking finally ceased he relaxed, stilling himself once again. That was until a few moments later when the knocking once again resumed, louder this time.
Fed up, Irvine grabbed his entire sword, tossing it as hard as he could at the door and letting out a curse loud enough to wake the tenants in the neighboring rooms. The sword fell to the floor with a clang and he scrambled out of bed, bounding towards the door with agitated fury in his eyes. "Can I please, for the love of whatever god you believe in, help you?!?!"
Sitting at the table with his morning tankard, Irvine glared forward, sleep in his eyes. He wasn't paying attention to the other tavern's patrons. The last thing he wanted at this moment was to acknowledge anyone he didn't have to. Being awoken so abruptly after little sleep was not amongst his usual, daily highlights.
He ran his gloved hand through his straight, short, brown hair and followed up with his eyes, brushing over the scar over his right, constant imprint of his history.
Seeing the elf approach out of the corner of his eye, he could only assume he was there for the same reason. He took a puff of his shortpipe and turning to greet him. "Irvi-...cripes!" he recoiled slightly, taken off guard by the sight elf's tattoo. He laughed at himself slightly. "Sorry... I didn't expect to see-... well.. you...like that..." He extended a hand in greeting. "Irvine Wolf...well met...again, sorry...rough morning..." he held up the back of hand, displaying a bit of dried blood on the knuckles. "I was rudely awakened..."
|
|
"Cazithiel you dull dog, why do you waste time with tea, when this human city has such fine wines to savour?"
From the space between a wall and a tavern bench, a slender hand rises and sets down an empty wine bottle on the nearby table. A lithe figure emerges, tousled and somewhat the worse for wear after seemingly spending the night on the tavern floor. "such fine wines, and such fine company too...". She prods a figure still prone on the floor behind the bench with her foot.
She dusts herself down, scoops a long elven blade from behind a chair, and grins to the gathered group. "Still, nothing disperses a hangover faster than a perilous jaunt for our dear Venture Captain, right? ". She bows; "Dentesila Kilthrin, at your service!"
|
|
"You can say that again, Wolf" Caitlyn mumbles as she attempts to stay awake. "Why can't the society just let us work at our own pace? Can't work properly without some sleep"
Caitlyn lays her head down on the table, seemingly asleep, until she raises up to chime in once more, "I'm Caitlyn Arciere, for those who I haven't met yet".
|
|
Waving her dainty hand in the air, Gabrielle shouts across the bar "Barhelp, I'll have your most expensive glass of wine!"
Gabrielle shifts her focus to the commoners sitting amongst her, and hesitantly offers her hand for a shake. "I am Gabrielle Spiritmoon the Third. What pleasure to meet you all on this delightful day!"
Gabrielle stealthily brings her hands under the table, where she wipes the commoners' filth off her delicate hands onto her ivory lace dress.
She tips her Sunday hat in the direction of the patrons disheveling her delicately placed brown locks.
"How dare they awaken us so early for such a menial task. I do hope our travels don't ruin my dress."
|
|
A lean elf dressed in Taldan fashion saunters in to the tavern. He looks unusually chipper for this time of day.
Ahh, what a lovely day. Barkeep, a mug of the strongest coffee you have, please. And some eggs and sausage too....need to get my strength for today's excitement. How are you all today? I am Konner Therinor of Taldor. Delighted to meet you all...
|
|
"So I heard from over there..." Dentesila gestures in the direction of the tavern floor, "that we're to investigate some..."Forlorn Fortress" was it? I wasn't really listening...". Addressing Konner, "Konner, you're a local lad - what do you know about this fortress? Why's it supposed to be forlorn?"
Dentesila flips a gold coin around her fingers, then holds it up at the barkeep. "Barman, a bottle of wine for my travels, please, and you can keep the change if you can tell me anything remotely helpful about where we're headed."
|
|
The barkeep brings the requested drinks to your table, setting them down in front of you one at a time. "There ya go," he smiles as he accepts the gold coin from Dentesila. "I've probably heard about as much as you have about that place. They're lookin' to send an expedition to the ruins and see what's inside. I hope it's not just sum borin' old art and cobwebs," he chuckles. "Gotta make it worthwhile, ya know? Could be filled with priceless artifacts, could be filled with evil, no way ta know!" He takes out a raggedy cloth and wipes the table down. "Wish I could join ya really, been a while since I've gone divin' inta old ruins. I can at least tell ya that it's only a few hours travel towards the Fortress. It's jus' out in the Cairnlands."
|
|
Irvine nods to the rest of the group as they arrive, meeting their greetings with a nod "Nice to meet you all...I'll try not to let my morning's occurrences effect my top notch social skills..." he grinned before turning his attention to the barkeep. "Out in the Cairnlands...? he rolled his eyes, shrugging at the thought of the possible dead they might encounter. "I don't suppose any of you are priests are you...?"
|
|
"You will have to introduce me to this 'wine,' Dentesila. I am not so familiar with the drinks of these lands."
With a bow to the barkeep, he adds, "Your hospitality is impeccable."
Carefully checking over his hands and feeling his face, he inhales deeply and adds, "I am ready. No. I want to buy some fire. Perhaps some of this 'wine.' Then I am ready. Please, I do not want to inconvenience anyone."
|
|
Caitlyn leans back in her seat slowly, almost savoring the noise of the creaky wooden chair, "I'm set as well. I'm not terribly familiar with the Cairnlands, but if a priest is helpful for going out their, it sounds like a good time"
Caitlyn smiles as she mentally prepares for her first journey with the party.
|
|
As luck would have it, Venture-Captain Valsin has arranged a caravan to transport directly towards the tower. After stopping to make a few purchases, you depart Absalom and make your way across the Cairnlands. The journey is uneventful, although the landscape becomes increasingly decrepit as you journey out, and broken down siege engines and battlements dot the landscape. Within a few hours, you arrive at the ground level of the tower.
The ruined siege castle now being called the Fallen Fortress rises out of the churned earth. No doors or windows mar the otherwise smooth expanse of the tower's walls. The tower is quatrefoil in plan; its eastern wing has largely collapsed, exposing the interior floors to the open air. Only the topmost level seems whole, though its eastern portion hangs precariously over the mountain of rubble left by the collapse. At ground level, the rubble frames a gaping hole in the side of the building that provides access to the tower's darkened interior.
|
|
"I'll watch from the rear," Cazithiel suggests. "I can move forward quickly should it become necessary."
Immediately thereafter, though, the wild, dark-hued elf steps forward and picks up a piece of rubble. He looks upward at the top floor far above. "I wonder how high that is?" he asks himself, before chucking the stone upwards toward the ceiling.
He shrugs as the stone falls back to the ground. "All things are betrayed in time. Time itself is the great betrayer, the ender of all things."
|
|
Slipping off the cart onto the uneven ground just short of the rubble pile from the collapsed eastern wing, Dentesila shades her eyes with one hand, scanning the walls of the siege castle for signs of life or features of interest. "Here we go - I can't screw this up, or let the others down. The paths I chose have lead me here - time to see if I've got what it takes..."
Unsheathing her blade, she begins a series of stretches to unkink her knotted muscles. "So how are we going to do this then? Irvine, Kenner, how about we ascend up the side of the rubble, flanked by the wall, whilst the archery-types cover us from below?"
|
|
Gabrielle trips as she steps out of the caravan. "Oh dear, I knew I should have waited until next week to take these shoes to the cobbler!"
As she gets to her feet, a strong gust of wind throws Gabrielle off her footing once again. She composes herself, brushing off the excess sand from her now eggshell colored lace dress. She turns to assess the group. "Caitlyn, you look as skilled with your bow as I am. I will stay close to you."
|
|
Catching sight of the snarling hounds arrowing towards the party, Dentesila snapped swiftly from her practice exercises into a loping charge of her own. Teeth bared but silent, she sprinted past the foot of the rubble pile to Irvine's side, launching a full-bodied cross-body slash at the flank of the nearest dog.
|
|
Caitlyn's arrow punches through the dog's shoulder. Blood spills from the wound, angering the canine, and it tries to bite Irvine's ankle but gets a mouthful of dirt. The red-collared dog snaps his jaws in the air as Irvine pulls his leg up in time to avoid the bite.
Dentesila moves up towards Irvine and slashes for the red dog. She cuts off a few strands of black fur but misses its flesh.
|
|
Irvine let out a startled "Ack!" as the dog attempted to bite his ankle, letting out a curse. Drawing his sword, he readied himself for his attack, gripping the large hilt tightly in his hands. He barred his teeth, taking a couple of steps forward before his attack. "I had a dog once...She was a good dog. You are NOT good dogs..."
|
|
Irvine takes advantage of the dogs' reckless charges and lops off one head, pirouettes on his feet and carves the other down the middle.
The remaining animal doesn't like his odds, but does the exact same thing, charging straight for Irvine and leaping up in an attempt at taking a chunk out of his chest.
... He's blinded by his hunger and ferocity and misses!
|
|
Irvine swings his large sword again, flinging the fresh blood from the blade and wiping the remainder on the side of one of the dogs. He looked over to Cazithiel. "No harm done...Close calls... foot is still attached." he smirked. He looked over, eyeing the dog's corpses for a moment before looking up. "If we get hungry-...Look, I'm just saying let's not rule them out... they're not that bad in a pinch, trust me."
|
|
"I wonder why these fortifications were constructed as a sealed unit, without doors or windows at ground level? Were they sealing something in perhaps?" Dentesila peers cautiously into the halflight of the right hand archway with her sword held aloft, relying on her lowlight vison to pierce the gloom.