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Hamshanks ignored all pretense of pleasantries as he pounded into the meeting room in the Grand Lodge in Absalom. “Never time to do it right, is there? Gorum see us through this, then.” He grunted loudly and leveled his glare at the entire room. “Ever been to Qadira? Religion is almost a fad down there, with new cults springing up like weeds and getting crushed just as quickly. It has been that way for centuries.
But some make a mark—on Qadira or in the Chronicles. Three centuries ago, the archdevil Moloch, preaching surrender to the desert heat, suddenly became the rage. Qadirans walked into the desert just to die just as if the heat was their paradise. The most devout sought out the hidden Citadel of Flame, where a fearsome bull-headed idol of Moloch judged them and sent the worthy to Malebolge, the sixth layer of Hell. No surprise that Sarenrae’s priests launched a mighty crusade to demolish the citadel. After two weeks, a great sandstorm swallowed the expedition—and, it seemed, the citadel and its idol. Nothing more was heard from either...
...until ten days ago, that is. Sandstorms regularly scour the Qadiran highlands, and this time they emptied an entire valley of dunes. Poking out of that valley, visible only to those soaring above—such as a flying Pathfinder wizard—was the lofty spire of a fortress: the Citadel of Flame, presumably.
Hopefully we are the first to learn about its reappearance and we need to act fast. The Decemvirate doesn’t expect any trouble, so they’re sending you. But I do expect trouble—who knows what’s infesting that citadel? Get in there fast and find that idol—it could be the key to the entire cult. It’s likely statue-sized, maybe as big as me, and should have a bull’s head on it. And for Gorum’s sake be careful.”
Now, after a swift voyage to Sedeq and a tiring trek through the endless Qadiran dunes, the sun beats down on a maze of red slickstone, with delicate arches and towering columns called hoodoos dotting the landscape. Somewhere within this expanse lies the Citadel of Flame and within, the idol of Moloch.
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Odo was really feeling the heat. "How to people do this every day?" he asked himself as the sting of salty sweat irritated his eyes. Sarenrae, give me strength to bear your light and heat."
The halfling did his best to affect the dress of the local Keleshites but with what he felt was limited success. He wasn't a native of these lands, worship of Sarenrae came to him through cultural diffusion not being born and raised in Qadira and acclimated to the heat.
Odo, paladin of Sarenrae, is not particularly tall for his people at 3' 4", but a shock of red hair and his shiny armor tend to make him stand out from his peers. He wears a pair of scimitars on his belt, one of them particularly finely wrought. Throughout this journey, Odo has taken the last pre-dawn watch so that he can serenely watch the sunrise each day.
"Though I am excited to explore a little more of the history of my faith on this expedition, I am also willing to find a nice bit of shade to sit in soon. There are times when Sarenrae's blessings are too much for mortal man to bear."
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Trig turns from scanning the landscape to reply to the Halfling paladin. "Some shade would be welcome, no doubt. I've heard that some of the ancient Qadiran cults of Sarenrae worshipped her more as an avenging goddess than a redemptive one. It makes sense when you stand here."
Trig is a young, slightly built Varisian man. Dark eyes and long hair bound in a blue bandana, olive complexion, long narrow features. He dresses in bright colors typical of his people including a ridiculously long rainbow colored scarf. He's a bit of a dandy and always tries to keep his clothes neat and clean.
On the voyage over Trig was helpful and friendly. He spent most nights singing and dancing with the crew before the mast. But after saying his goodbyes to the crew, he hasn't mentioned them again.
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Billin momentarily removes one of his hands from his wolf's reins and wipes his brow. He turns to his fellow halfling and says, "People mainly get by because they don't know any better. I grew up here, but I never really got used to it. I left as soon as I could and haven't come back until now. Remue," he points at the wolf upon which he is riding, "doesn't like it all, and I can't blame him. At least I can keep us from getting too parched." He rustles through his pack and pulls out a waterskin. He holds it directly over his head, says a few strange words, makes a few gestures, and then water appears. It fills the waterskin, and then overflows onto Billin and Remue. The water sizzles as it strikes Billin's scale mail and the hilt of the morningstar hanging in a scabbard next to Remue's saddle. "It feels great. You guys can try it, if you want."
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"I think Sahba and I will manage just fine without, thank you." Darvan, a human, wears a set of light-colored robes that seem to provide some relief from the oppressive heat, and seems to feel at home. By way of explanation, he offers, "I, too, spent much of my younger years in this land; while I did not dislike it, it did not provide the same opportunities that we have all found in the Society." As he scans the horizon, you catch glimpses of a blue dragonhide breastplate under his robes, as well as a finely-wrought scimitar hanging by his side.
As for Sahba, his velociraptor companion, she entertains herself by chasing small scorpions and lizards from under nearby rocks as Darvan looks on.
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After traveling for days through the trackless wastes of the Qadiran desert, you finally come upon a landmark: A path, descending through a maze of cliffs, which opens into a slot canyon of smooth red stone surrounded by towering hoodoos. At the far side, two hoodoos carved into enormous bull-headed men leer down on the canyon, while those nearby look like stylized flames. To either side, the canyon walls rise steeply in a series of rough ledges to the clifftops above. Brass doors on a massive wall of baked gray mud can be seen through an arch at the far side of the canyon.
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"Flame moved across the sands? Not a creature on fire or something with a more distinct track? Perhaps a magical effect or flaming spell?"
Odo looks about the area. "The local decor does suggest we have found the right path to the Citadel of Flame. I guess we should not be surprised by walking fires."
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As Darvan cautiously moves forward, his scimitar drawn, a pair of vaguely humanoid creatures made from living flame float out from behind two of the hoodoos, issuing cries of joy and hunger that sound akin to the crackling of a wildfire!
Darvan:
Odo:
Triccio:
Billin:
FE:
Round 1: Darvan, FE, Billin, Madok, Odo, Triccio
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Darvan swings at the elemental in front of him, but the roiling flame easily dodges his blow.
Sahba steps up and mauls the elemental, causing its flames to dim almost to nothing.
Considering the dinosaur to be the primary threat, both fire elementals focus their attention on Sahba...
...and whilst the nimble raptor is able to dodge the first, the second catches her with a glancing blow, lightly searing the flesh of her flank.
Round 1: Darvan, FE, Billin, Madok, Odo, Triccio
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Billin[ pulls out a sling, and casts a spell.
Madok roars, and swings his axe violently through the body of the elemental, meeting little resistance. Its body folds in upon itself, dwindling down to a single ember, which goes dark with a hiss, before disintegrating into ash.
Taking advantage of the suddenly open space, Odo moves forward, and swings his scimitar through the remaining, heavily injured elemental, causing it to dissipate.
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The arch at the east end of the canyon has a multitude of faint runes carved on its front.
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"But why would someone try to remove them now? Hiding something wouldn't surprise me, but what sort of ancient information would be relevant to remove now? That's the mystery."
Not having any more advanced skill in reading ancient runes, Odo moves to stand closer to the brass door and get a look at it.
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Darvan looks at the carvings as well. "These glyphs, here, record the prayers of Sarenrae’s crusaders as they were buried alive by a massive sandstorm summoned by the cultists." In addition, he wanders over to a small outcropping near the brass gate. "Here, I've found something." He points to two mummified and perfectly preserved corpses. Between the two corpses, there are four oils of bless weapon and four +1 holy arrows.
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"The Dawn brings new Light," Odo gasps. "You have sharp eyes, Darvan."
Odo changes course to get a look at the mummified bodies. "Crusaders, I would bet. Let their bodies feel the light of the sun again for a while before the desert reclaims them." He bows his head in silent prayer for a few moments.
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Beyond the arch, the red stone hoodoos open up to a massive citadel. The stronghold appears to have two parts: the nearest is a squat, square fortress covered in decaying plaster and topped by an enormous minaret from which a thin plume of smoke escapes. The plaster walls are richly decorated with intricate geometric carvings of dancing flames, and smaller minarets rise from the corners. At the east end of that building, the valley floor drops suddenly and a windowless second structure perches on a plateau beyond, rising gracefully from the void in a tangle of minarets and spires. Even though centuries of sand have scoured away most of the gold leaf that once decorated the structure, the sunlight reflecting off the deep red stone of the citadel makes the entire structure glow like a massive bonfire. A delicate, red, enclosed bridge links the first fortress with the second one beyond. A pair of massive brass doors covered in a flowing decorative script blocks access to the near fortress.
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"I do not know. Perhaps they did not wish to perish in the desert, and instead stayed here in the hopes of being able to make their way back into the stronghold." He shrugs. "Regardless, it does not seem to matter much now."
After saying a quick prayer to Sarenrae over the mummified remains, Darvan takes one of the potions of bless weapon and distributes the remaining goods to anyone that wants them. Then, he makes his way to the doors and examines them.
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Odo takes one of the bless weapon oils and none of the arrows (he uses a sling).
"Someone bigger than me probably has a better chance of opening the doors than I. But let me stand at the fore. My armor and shield are stout and my faith strong. If there are dangers beyond, let them come to me first."
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This entry hall is clearly meant to impress visitors. Many rows of stout pillars, carved to resemble writhing flames, surround the center of the room where a spiral staircase, devoid of rails or walls, leads up to the minaret above. A large bonfire burns in the middle of the staircase, casting normal illumination throughout the room. The walls are covered with written prayers carved in gold filigree, as well as stylized efreeti faces spaced every 5 feet. On the opposite side of the room, two sets of double doors exit to the NE and SE.
As the party peers around the room, a set of flaming footprints (each footprint flaming bright, before the flames die down over a few seconds, and disappear completely) appears from behind the minaret, before heading up the staircase, and disappearing from view...