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Henrik is practically dancing with excitement watching the giant Kaa go to town. "That is awesome! We should lead with that next time."
Henrik raises his wand of silent image as he watches the fight, again preparing to launch at the opportune moment.
Ranalus: grits his teeth and takes the hit, providing once again aid to Kaa.
Aarion: the arrow misses its mark.
Kaa: A giant ectoplasmic hammer smashes down on the red statue, causing large cracks to appear all over.
Dax: Aaarion denies aid, so best course of action is another block of ice to the face of the statue.
And with that last hit, red collapses into dust!
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Henrik stows both of his wands back in their sheathes. "Man, those guys were nasty. Good job taking them apart guys! Aarion, Ranalus, if either of you need it, I have some healing to offer, though many don't like how it feels"
Henrik then proceeds to look around the plaza, to see if anything else of interest presents itself.
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Thank you, Aarion. My apologies, Henrik, but I have trained extensively to slay devils and demons. Were I to accept your offer, I would have to smite myself.
He gives a slight smile. I imagine Aarion might be equally uncomfortable accepting the healing power of darkness... Still, we have all worked well together this day.
He looks around the room, taking time to search the stairs and platform for traps. Taking 10 for a 25.
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"No worries my friend. I confess, I have never understood why it is considered wrong to use demons blood as a spell component. Don't we want demons to not be in possession of their own blood? Should I allow this wand to be in the possession of someone evil instead?" Henrik shrugs. "Don't mean to wax too philosophical, just something that I've always found to be something of an oddity."
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Ranalus ponders the gnome's words. This one is inquisitive, if startlingly naive. I do admire that curiosity, though. And a conversation about the theology of fiends, well, how can I refuse?
I am not so squeamish about all that might be labeled "wrong." Were your wand to use orcish magic, or a secret of the Whispering Way, or troll's blood, it would not much bother me.
The spell you speak of heals by using devil's blood to bestow a hint of fiendish power upon a mortal. It was given to mortals by Asmodeus, the most cunning and insidious of all the evil beings in creation. He must be opposed at every turn. His gifts must not be accepted. They may seem harmless or even helpful at first. But everything that he does is a plot to increase his power.
I agree devils' blood should be spilled, but I would not seek to then claim their power for my own. My father was a captain in the Cheliax army. He told me where that hubris leads, and I later saw for myself. It is, as Asmodeus has sought to make it, Hell on Golarion. So, I would have that wand not in my possession nor an evildoer's, but destroyed if it were up to me. Destroy the devils. Forsake all of their magic. Banish every trace of them from this world. That would be my wish.
It is your wand, and you are a gnome. Your souls are not like those of humans. Perhaps the grace of the First World will protect you from being corrupted by devilish power. I, however, will not accept the gift of Asmodeus.
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"Interesting; I had no idea of the spell's origin, to be perfectly honest. I certainly have never felt corrupted by its use. Seems to me that the origins of such a tool would be counter-balanced by the quality of what it is used to accomplish. Then again, I've never been terribly focused on theological issues of right and wrong. It gets the job done, that is good enough for me."
Henrik grins and says wryly "If you promise not to smite me if I use it, I promise not to use it on you. Deal?"
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Aarion glances over to Ranalus as the elf begins speaking his mind about the devil's blood. Personally, I have no problem with Henrikuaxian's magic. The fact that devil's blood is being utilized during the casting of the spell, makes no difference to me. My soul can not be darkened any further than it already is by likes of the blood."
Lowering his eye slightly, the inquisitor continues. "That being said, I can see why any clean living soul would take offence to the process, and I don't blame you for your disdain of such things."
After acknowledging his companions preparedness, Aarion gathers up his provisions, has a small bite to eat, then prepares to continue on.
This massive stone plaza stretches out before a stepped pyramid at its far end. Buildings and stalls line either side, and heavily inscribed stone columns stand throughout the area, forming a spiral pattern. Banners and tarps hang between the columns, creating distinct areas of light and darkness. Smoldering coals surround the bases of large, heated ceramic cylinders, which glow softly. They’re warm enough to be felt from a distance, but not hot enough to ignite the blankets draped over them or the banners dangling around and above.
The temples interior is bathed in a ruddy twilight. Braziers of coals stand at regular intervals, providing little light, but a lot of warmth.
Chaotically twisting tunnels and chambers shoot throughout the temple’s interior, some ending abruptly and others opening into smoke-choked studies, scriptoria, and meditation chambers. Countless alcoves are cut into the walls—almost entirely hidden within the elaborate mosaics.
Glowing coals warm this shrine and cast an eerie under-lighting on the towering, snake-headed statue behind the altar. The reek of ammonia and rotting flesh fills the air and burns the eyes.
A serpentfolk calls out in hissing shouts when it spots you.
Round 1
Serpentfolk: Casts a spell, and suddenly it appears there are several more snake people.
Initiative
Serpetfolk
Dax
Henrikuaxian
Kaa
Aarion
Snake
Ranalus
Bold may post an action.
Knowledge local for the snake person. Knowledge nature for the regular snake.
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Henrik triggers his wrist sheathe, and one of his trusty wands flies into his hand.
"I'll try to counter any more spells from the caster, you guys focus on the snake"
He then focuses on watching the serpent caster, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Henrik shouts out the trigger word, and a bright bolt of energy flies to the serpentfolk
You recognize this a true serpentfolk. It has bright scaly skin, a long sinuous tail, and a fanged serpent's head.
There is not a lot you know about them, other then that their bite is venomous, and that they are legendary for their immunity to mind-affecting effects
This is a rather common constrictor snake. Its medium in size, and the only remarkable thing about is that it has a grab attempt on its bite, and if it succeeds in grappeling you and keeping you grappeled, it can start constricting. Other then that, its quite a mundane animal.
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Conjuring the last of his divine strength, Aarion calls to Sarenrae for added protection for the upcoming battle. After embracing the holy symbol around his neck, a protective membrane surrounds the inquisitor.
“Caution with these creatures, they are venomous and the snake will likely squeeze you to death, if it gets hold of you.” The inquisitor says as he begins carefully observing the large snake.
Henrikuaxian: readies to strike the caster.
Aarion: protecting himself with divine magic.
Kaa: likewise, Kaa also uses divine magic, but to aid the whole party.
Dax:
Snake: Slithers up to Dax
Initiative
Serpetfolk
Dax
Henrikuaxian
Kaa
Aarion
Snake
Ranalus
Bold may post an action.
Serpentfolk:
Suddenly blinded, the serpentfolk shuffles forward and readies with its dagger to attack if it gets attacked.
Round 2
Initiative
Serpetfolk
Dax
Henrikuaxian
Kaa
Aarion
Snake
Ranalus
Bold may post an action.
Kaa smashes down with his ecto-hammer, crushing the skull of the constrictor snake!
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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!”
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.
And high overhead, a looming stone glows with a light visible even in the growing light of dawn.
Your sudden appearance in the town cause the citizens around you to cower back, shouting in anger and fear.
You may need to calm or disperse the crowd, otherwise it might turn ugly for you very fast.
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Aarion, I think as a human you are likely to be the only one they will listen to, unless one of us can spin a most convincing story. Do you speak Azlanti or any other ancient tongue?
Ranalus retrieves his potion of Invisibility in case things go badly. He has that in one hand and the other free for casting Obscuring Mist if needed.
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Taking in the events around him, Henrik is visibly angered.
"Arrogant, stupid, bloody fool! What was she thinking, trying to mess with the path of time like that? Now we all are in danger."
Looking at Ranalus as he gives his suggestion, Henrik appears pensive. "I would second that any diplomatic solution would be best served coming from Aarion. The only language I know that they might understand would be Draconic, but somehow I doubt they would look favorably on the use of it."
"Alternatively, I could try pulling off some illusory trickery to communicate without language. An image of Aroden standing in our midst perhaps? Or a visual replay of us killing serpentfolk? Or even an image of a wall extended off of one of these buildings that we could hide in, if we could get out of sight for a moment. I'm open to other suggestions as well."
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“I have a spell that will allow me to understand these people, but I will need to rest through the night before I can cast it.” Aarion says to the group in a hushed voice.
Taking into account the differences between his native language (Varisian), and its ancient counterpart (Azlanti), Aarion decides to make a rough attempt at communication.
Without hesitation, Aarion shoulders his bow and holds out his hands in a nonthreatening manner.
"My name is Aarion. I and my friends here are no threat to you. Please don’t be afraid."
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Good ideas Henrik, although I think Aroden is not yet a god at this point in time.
Kaa, they may mistake you for a serpentfolk. I suggest you follow my lead.
Ranalus kneels to Aarion, indicating that the human is in charge here. He guesses, rightly or wrongly, that these primitives will be fearful of non-humans.
Not understanding Aarions words, the crowd does pause at his calm tones. Ranalus deference to Aarion gives them pauze.
For a moment the crowd hangs at a tipping point, then decides that whatever you are, and whatever is happening, it is for other people to fix. They have family and homes to get to, to see if their loved ones are alright.
Slowly the crowd disperses, keeping a keen eye on the group. As it gets quieter in the square, you can see other groups of pathfinders around you.
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.”
A bit absentmindedly, Shaine pats himself down, and looks surprised to find a potion in his pocket. "How peculiur that this has duplicated. I think you can use it a lot better then I can."
He hands you a single potion of Cure Moderate Wounds.
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Henrik breathes a sigh of relief at the crowd's departure, then listens eagerly to Master Shaine.
"I have so many questions, Master Shaine, I scarcely know where to begin. Lets start with a simple one. We have two goals, and lots of pathfinders. Is there one goal you think our group more suited to handle?"
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Aarion looks around for a moment, taking in the spectacle, and then begins addressing the master of scrolls. “How much time do you think we have? As it stands, we are somewhat depleted of resources from our previous engagements. Do we have time to rest and regain those resources, or are we pressed enough to move forward without them?”
Kreighton Shaine looks down. "Ah there little fellow. Hello. Hm.. Good question. There is a lot of you, and a lot of those harbringers, which would make it seem like an easy conclusion. But if you are battle weary, I am sure we could use your creativeness in getting us a lock on the vault. We kind of need both you see."
The master of scrolls gets a far away look in his eyes. "Yes, we're all quite weary. I've seen the teams giving their all in exploring Sessegishoss. It was a joy to observe and assist in. But the temporal shift did...", he hesistates for a moment, "Interact with my abilites. I think they must have with yours too. If you join me for a moment in a much needed breather, so to speak, I think some of your powers may return."