Boris!
Nikolai Tesla
Jin-Goro Gallonica
KULIK
Bellum Race
Thurl
Red Golem
Sierra Heartward
Aderyn Glyndwr
Marilith
Seraptis
Green Golem
The Maralith will take her AoO as Jin-Goro moves in!
At Jin-Goro's touch, The Marilith Writhes in pain and anguish, the vitality draining from her powerful coils.
As Bellum reaches out with Telekinetic force, Thurl slips out of the gnome's Grasp!
Boris!
Nikolai Tesla
Jin-Goro Gallonica
KULIK
Bellum Race
Thurl
Red Golem
Sierra Heartward
Aderyn Glyndwr
Marilith
Seraptis
Green Golem
KULIK takes a five foot step (and sees if Thurl has Step Up).
The Bust of Shimmering light engulfs the Marilith, a scream of pain filling the room before the clang of six Abyssal Longswords rings off the walls.
Kulik's Volley of arrows pierce deep into Thurl's Mutated hide, The third of which... is almost deflected by one of the Heavy Metal plates bolted directly to his body.
With a final wail of pain, Thurl drops from the sky, landing with a Sickening THUD on the stone tile below.
"Bloody Hell! That One Eyed B@$+@*& looks worse now than he did Before!" Borsaget adds, peeking out of Bellum's Pack. "Bring me closer so I can get a GOOOOOOOOD look at this F$*@^$"
"That's What you get Buddy for crossing Dwarves! And uh... Pathfinders! Yeah!"
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Bellum also walks into a safer area. "Borsaget, you are a delight! Is there anything we can do to help restore your sanctum here?"
While waiting for a response, Bellum will detect magic and Take 20 to search the area. At some point, he'll spend another Veil Point to get true seeing, just in case Thurl got tricky and hid something with magic aura or nondetection.
Can't be too careful with former Pathfinders. They know all our tricks!
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Jin dismisses his blade barrier to prevent possible accidents and floats over towards Thurl to make sure he is dead. Examining the body he mutters, Thurl has much to answer for. He escaped his rightful justice last time, I would not want to see him return again. If we want, I can drag his hateful soul back into this shell and compel him to answer out questions. I could also raise this husk as an undead and store him in some hard to locate out of the way plane where his allies would be unlikely to find him. Or.. and he looks over to Bellum and Nikolai, we could disintegrate these fleshy remains if that is more acceptable to some of you he says with a sly look over at Sierra.
Nodding to Bellum, Borsaget chatters after making a Spitting sound toward Thurl. "Bring in the Magrimites! It'll probably take a whole army, but with My Know-How, and Dwarven Craftsmanship, we can have this place rebuilt in no time! I mean, It won't be as good as the Dwarven Construction of Old, but not much is these days!"
Bellum detects the three other Runeplates, the backs etched with Demonic Sigils. Borsaget's mood visibly worsens upon finding the defaced plates, her brow furrowed. "Those'll probably buff out, right? Any of you folks got Make Whole or Whatnot? It'll never be good as new, But perhaps Good as Good will be enough."
Additionally, Bellum finds a Supple leather belt with images of Abyssal Minotaurs etched into the leather.
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"I'd be pleased to wreath his body in destruction, after we have a little post-death chat with him. Perhaps he will return to swear his revenge against us! But, we might be able to wheedle some of his plans out of him. Then--bam!--swiftly to the Boneyard for him."
"Borsaget, I do have a scroll of make whole, and tomorrow I could cast it at least once using all of my power. If you are content to share my company for a few days, we could get them fixed up! In the meantime, you could tell me all about Magrim."
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Nikolai raises a placating hand.
"Please! I can handle zis body myself."
He then unfolds his Portable Hole, before pulling out a dagger, and slitting his shell's throat.
As the minotaur's life-blood pours out onto the ground, smoke rises from its mouth, and cascades down into the Portable Hole... Shortly thereafter, a rather refreshed-looking Nikolai floats up out of the extradimensional space.
"Vell, zat was bracing!"
The trip from the Five Kings mountains to Nerosyan is relatively uneventful, and the few weeks of travel are a welcome respite from the fight with Thurl. Upon arriving in Nerosyan, a Tall Nagaji stands at the docks, anticipating your arrival.
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Standing just over Seven feet tall, in Shining Steel Full Iomedaean Full plate, the Grythyk lightly dusts off several medals welded to the left breast, before gripping the hilt of the longsword at his hip, his thumb on the pommel.
"Gamin, think these are the folks Jorsal sent us to Retrieve? They do seem strong enough. Although I'm not certain about the Half-Orc and the Vampire."
A tinny voice echoes from an inch long section of the blade drawn from the sheath. "Tolerance Grytyhk! The Pathfinder society works with all types to better Golarian! That's the Cooperate portion of the Motto!"
Grythyk furrows his brow, obviously confused. "I suppose. If they are who Jorsal asked for, then they must know what they are doing." Finally snapping his eyes up to the offloading boat, Grythyk smiles wide before addressing the new arrivals. "Hello Seekers! I am Grythyk, Paladin of Iomedae and I am here on Jorsal's behalf to take you to the Starrise Spire! I hear that you all are about to engage in a Dreadful Mission to defeat a Great Threat to the Society! Onward, to Starrise!"
Turning on a heel, he begins the trek toward the Massive spire in the center of the diamond city.
As Grythyk leads you through the streets of Nerosyan, a small boy dressed in rags bumps into Nikolai, before apologizing profusely and rushing back into the crowd. Nikolai quickly notices that his belt is just a smidge heavier.
Tucked into your gold pouch, you find a note tucked into a small leather book, no larger than the palm of your hand.
Greetings Nikolai!
I owe you a great debt for sparing my life in within the depths of T hurl’s maze. After witnessing Thurl’s depravity, I became convinced that the world must be rid of evils like him. To that end, since we parted I have spent time investigating the shadowy figure be hind Thurl, the demon who used foul magic to return him to life.
This demon was, of course, Koth’Vaul. Unfortunately, the demon covers his tracks well, and I could not find any weakness to exploit.
His vassals and servants, however, were not so well hidden. Four demonic vassals of great power serve him and, through occult investigations, I was able to learn fragments of each of their true names. While not enough to command the demons, these fragments still hold power. Scribe them onto your weapons and armor with holy water, and they will aid you in your battle against the fiends.
-Muhlai Al-Jakri
Inside the leather book, are fragments of True Names written in crisp clean handwriting, as well as Rudimentary instructions for how to scribe them into your weapons and Armor.
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Nikolai momentarily stiffens, then notices the small book.
Pulling it out, he quickly flips through it, then smirks.
"It vould appear zat Muhlia is true to her vord - apparently, Koth'Vaul has four lieutenants, and she has been able to track dovn fragments of zeir True Names."
He then shares the message.
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The usually-towering half-orc nods to the nagaji who makes him feel short, all of the sudden.
KULIK, he says, thumbing his chest with a toothy grin. Desna and Iomedae friendly, the archer states, showing the nagaji the butterfly tattoo on his palm, so KULIK and Grythyk friendly too. And KULIK happy to vouch for Nikolai person-type thing. He falls into step behind the paladin.
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"Kulik? That's going to get confusing." Standing to the side of the path of Grythyk's strides is a dwarf dressed in white vestments trimmed in gold. A wayfinder stamped with a golden key hangs from his neck. "Kurik Grandhelm, Silver Crusader, here to relieve Miss Heartward." He offers a folded parchment to the Pharasmin. "Orders from Zadrian, something about the moon." he offers as explanation.
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Sierra accepts the missive with a smile. "Master Grandhelm, a pleasure. I hope your work here recovering the lodge is progressing well." Briefly scanning the letter, she nods. "Very well. I wish all of you the best of luck in dealing with Koth'Vaul." With a brief moment of concentration, she speaks a single word. "Skyreach." With a single spell she is whisked away.
The stairs heading up Starrise Spire are relatively steep, leading toward a large wooden door with a small plaque with RESERVED engraved into it. Grythyk swings open the door, revealing an open window looking out at the tortured landscape of the Worldwound brooding in the distance. A tall Garundi man in shining fullplate turns from the window, before smiling at Grythyk. "Thank you for retrieving our honored guests. I believe that we are waiting for one more, If you wouldn't mind waiting for him Outside?" he adds, before watching Grythyk shut the door behind him. “Greetings Pathfinders, I am Venture-Captain Jorsal of Lauterbury, but I'm sure that I have met you in the past.” Turning from the window, he smiles before adding, “I hope you all are well. This mission promises to be challenging, even for agents of your caliber.” Gesturing to seats around a wooden table, Jorsal continues to pace while speaking.
"As you have likely heard by now, The Fifth Mendevian Crusade is over, at long last. With support from countless crusaders, including considerable assistance from the Pathfinder Society, a group of heroes has managed to seal the Worldwound. As a part of their charge through the Worldwound and into the Abyss, they slew a host of demons, most notable among them the demon lord Deskari.
With the imminent threat of invasion gone, many of the holy warriors who served here have returned home. Mendev is still dealing with a continuing effort to clear out the Worldwound’s remaining demons, which is plenty of work to keep our crusaders busy. Yet danger remains—some opportunistic demons seek to seize upon pieces of the power vacuum left in Deskari’s wake."
“One such demon is the glabrezu Koth’Vaul, also known as Lying Horns. No doubt some of you are familiar with his vile history. I sent Grythyk specifically to retrieve you, as he has some Personal experience with Koth'Vaul. His machinations have plagued the Pathfinder Society for years, including organizing the siege of Absalom. It was his foul magic that granted unholy resurrection to the corrupted Venture-Captain Thurl, another great enemy of the Society. After you all so Graciously put Thurl back down, we have been trying to pick up Koth'Vaul's trail to finish the job."
Jorsal traces a line inked in red on the map, before circling a conspicuously empty on the map.
“Now it seems that Koth’Vaul is picking at the seams of the Worldwound. Our scouts, including that Nagaji outside reported that the glabrezu and his followers ventured into the Worldwound several days ago and tore open a portal leading to the Abyss. Subsequent divination confirmed that information, but we can only guess at what his intentions are. Needless to say, the Pathfinder Society greatly desires to settle the score with Koth’Vaul and put a stop to whatever he is planning. Your task is track the demon through the Worldwound and into the Abyss beyond. End his miserable existence once and for all.”
"Do you have any questions for me before you begin? Or perhaps questions for Grythyk, as a member of the Scouting party?"
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Jins features grow increasingly aggravated over the course of the briefing. This Glabrezu really has started to become annoying. He needs to be removed. As for questions, yes, just a few. Where in the worldwound is this portal, how far away is it, how are we getting there, when do we leave, what minions did he have with him, what are the likely conditions in the Abyss on the other side, are you giving us any support to hunt down this menace? I am sure others might crop up along the way, do we have a means of contacting you?
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Jorsal nods toward the door and it opens, almost as if commanded to do so. Grythyk, sheepishly looks toward the assemble pathfinders “Sorry, I couldn't help myself from listening." Jorsal cracks an uncharacteristic smirk before nodding to Grythyk. "Would you like to give a First Hand account? Words from your mouth might mean a bit more than my interpretations." Grythyk beams with pride, before starting. "We know that Koth’Vaul has gathered his most loyal servants to himself, suggesting he is planning something important. From what I saw, it seems six humans and three Glabrezu accompany him. It is likely that the humans are corrupted mortals who have given themselves over to Koth’Vaul. Although killing them may be necessary, it would be a virtuous work to bring them to redemption instead."
Gamin adds "That sounds a bit more like Sarenite Teachings, but Mistress Zadrian is the Boss!"
Grythyk continues, after glaring down at Gamin. “My team's divinations indicate that the portal leads to the Rasping Rifts, which is the realm of the slain demon lord Deskari. It is an endless maze of chasms and rifts filled with swarming insects. Few mortals have ventured there and returned to tell the tale. In addition to hordes of demons, it is also inhabited by giant insects, mosquitoes big enough to drain a person dry, and terrible Abyssal constructs called retrievers. I don't really know what his plans are, but so far all his schemes have been subtle and difficult to detect. The fact that he has shown himself so openly suggests that he is preparing for a major strike. Our diviners were careful not to delve too deeply, as Koth’Vaul has used divinations against us in the past. There is a good reason that glabrezus are also called treachery demons. Be cautious as you follow the demon’s trail and do your best to discern his true purpose.”
Looking to Kurik, Grythyk shrugs at the request of aid. "While a Band of powerful crusaders, Touched by Iomedae Herself, managed to seal the Worldwound, there is still much work to do before it is clean and clear for habitation. I don't imagine that you would find much in terms of help in there, and the terrain can change so suddenly, that I don't know that I would be of any help leading you back there. Besides, I'm certain that Jorsal has some sort of other work for me, as I wasn't included in this mission."
Grythyk, realizing his step out of line, looks down at his shoes.
Jorsal looks sternly at Grythyk, before adding, "While I know you have a vested interest in the matter, you have a few more crusades ahead of you before being sent into this degree of danger. I'll have you on overwatch, to ensure that if there are issues, that they can be... retrieved."
Grythyk nods, before heading over to the table, taking a lovingly (but poorly) carved wooden pawn of a Hand holding a longsword aloft and setting it on Nerosyan.
Jorsal looks back to the seekers, before adding "If there are any further preparations that you would like to make, I would request that you hurry. Taking more than a day could let Koth’Vaul proceed with his plans without giving us an Opportunity to stop him. Best of luck, and may the Light of the Dawflower be with you."
With that, Jorsal pulls 5 pawns out of a small wooden box next to the map, and places them in Nerosyan before beginning a small chant. The wooden pawns snap into place, almost as if magnetized.
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Frag is a tall northlander, standing nearly six and one-half feet in height. He is mightily shouldered and broad of chest - striking an imposing figure. His tightly corded muscles evoke images of heavy dwarvish rope, barely contained under the light armor that he wears. At nearly 20 stone, Frag is a mountain of a man. His iron-like visage centers around his deep gimlet-eyes. Lapis in color, and sullen in countenance, they speak of an inner fury held in check solely as a fighter's tactic. To look at the man is to look into his eyes, which constantly measure the worth of all he sees. His skin is bronze, not from the proud Ulfen blood in his veins, but from years of living in a harsh, wild environment. His hair is square cut, shoulder length, and black as jet. Rare among his people, the black hair likely comes from a stubborn Kellid ancestor.
Despite the feral nature of his physical form, he holds himself relaxed. His confidence and volcanic personality speak for themselves, no need to needlessly waste his energy giving effort to his intimidating nature. He wears the massive falchion, Widowmaker across his back like a noble carries his purse. While his armor is simple in design, it mimics the man, efficient in function. He is a man who chooses his words carefully, speaking worth purpose and a forthrightness that makes a courtesan nervous.
This is the barbarian of the frigid north who has forsaken his tribe in order to take control of his own weird within the Pathfinder Society. This is the warrior of uncanny potential who seeks immortality in the bard's song. This is the adventurer who seeks wealth in the long blade of his weapon. This is Frag, son of Bjorn, son of Hjörlþegn, son of Hygelac.