Your latest orders have sent you to Vellumis, the largest city and most important port in the crusader nation of Lastwall, on the shores of Lake Encarthan. The waterfront and city center boast impressive architecture, with many buildings marble- clad, domed, and colonnaded in the once-popular Chelish Old White style, characterized by whitewashed walls, ornately decorated eaves, and massive arched windows.
Though there are an exceptionally large number of soldiers, most wearing Iomedaean iconography, roaming the streets, most are civilians. Flags of a dozen nations, and churches of at least as many faiths, can be seen as you navigate the city streets, leaving the elegant city center and heading into a seedier neighborhood that greatly resembles the dockside areas of Absalom.
When you arrive at the address you were provided, you discover a busy gambling hall. Raucous conversation fills the room, as men and women gather around a number of tables, playing various card and dice games.
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A compact young man in bright clothing makes his way through the crowd, smiling warmly at any passers-by he happens to make eye contact with. A faint glow about him and the whiteness of his ready smile indicate a heritage from the Upper Planes. He shakes his head slightly as he enters the gambling hall, a slight frown of disapproval crossing his face. Well, we can't always choose our allies. And these are soldiers in a righteous cause.
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A red haired woman slips in after Buck's outburst. She smiles charmingly and waves a hand towards the others.
"Greetings, everyone! I'm pleased to meet you all and I'm sure I'll have a lot of fun."
She walks in and you immediately see that each move she makes displays years of education. Her hair are fiery-red but you can sense that something is amiss about her appearance. Though she appears and wears clothes of a chelaxian noble, her aura seems otherworldly.
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Sitting quietly in a corner there is a young (?) woman in somber grey robes. The raucous gamblers are giving her a little bit of personal space: that could be because of the wooden spiral of Pharasma hanging around her neck (next to a wayfinder), or it could be because of her deathly-white skin, or the intensity of the gray-eyed stare she fixes on those who catch her gaze. Or because of her habit of leaning in to murmur to the heaviest drinkers that habitual consumption of alcohol will bring them to the Boneyard an average of 3-5 years sooner than their abstaining companions. Really, it could be any of those.
In short, she's not really making friends. But when she catches sight of the others, she rises from her seat, collects a pack, spear, and shield leaned against the wall, and makes her way over.
"Pharasma's blessings on this hour and on hours yet to come; may our lives be worthwhile and our deaths be clean," she intones matter-of-factly, with an unsmiling expression, in answer to the red-headed woman's greeting. "This servant of the Spire is called Zora Draznoi.
"I am considering whether it is religious obedience, or sacrilege, to gamble upon the bones. My Lady is the goddess of fate, after all. I am undecided. Shall we discuss questions of religious propriety while we wait for our Venture Officer?"
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An older warrior bearing the symbol of Iomedae upon his gleaming armor strides through the city with an air of superiority and confidence. He nods ever so slightly at the go.uards as he passes them on his way to meet his venture captain.
As he enters the ba, he fails to notice the young iffrit his hand invading the barmaid. He had seen the act surely a lecture would have been forth coming. He takes a seat next to the priestess of Pharasma and grins. "Good day, Priestess." he waived off the barmaid when she looks in his direction, inquiring what drink he may want.
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Zora observes the fiery figure at the gambling tables momentarily with her dispassionate gray eyes, then looks back to the Iomedan and Desnan worshippers with a grave nod.
"It is a good day, yes. Indeed. We bide our time: this is the lot of mortals, that we distract ourselves from the coming judgment with trifles, with bright colors, with amusements and perceived victories over the challenges of life. Perhaps it is pettiness: the shallow darting of minnows in a stream." Zora smiles slightly. "But it is that play, however shallow, that gives life joy, no?
"How shall I call you, fellow travelers?"
Loud and raucous conversation filters through the door from the common room of the Uscalin Lodge, which doubles as the Ace of Dreams gambling house. You mingle around the room for a bit until you notice a man call you over to him. “I know it’s here. I had it just a moment ago.” Venture-Captain Shevar Besnik lifts piles of papers and numerous boxes off of his desk, stacking them on various side tables and chairs in his clean but overly cluttered office. The tall, Varisian man’s face parts in a toothy grin as he lifts up a solid oak box. “Found it!”
As if to punctuate his discovery, a crowd of players in the gambling hall erupts in cheers. Distracted for a moment, Besnik stares at the closed office door that leads to the common room. “Desna laughs. Well, she laughs at me, but she smiles on them.” The venture captain shrugs. “All they have is gold; what I have in here is far more valuable.” Besnik opens the box’s lid painstakingly slowly, careful to keep the contents out of sight. With reverence, he lifts a large tome from the box and gently sets it on the table.
“Careful, the binding hasn’t held up well. This is one of the few Tomes of Righteous Repose left in the world. I’m pretty sure there’s one in the library of the Sancta Iomedaea in Vigil, but I’m...well, let’s just say I’m no longer welcome there. That’s a story for another time. Up until today, I’ve only skimmed the pages. I didn’t want to damage it, but now that you’re here, I can’t wait any longer. Care to plumb the depths of this most ancient and wonderful storybook? Oh, the marvelous adventures we will soon read! This tome is a collection of tales describing how various crusaders died gloriously and honorably. I’m hoping to find some clues in the text that will lead us to an as-of-yet undiscovered site or relic. Maybe we can trade a bit of what we find with the Knights of Ozem and earn ourselves some goodwill. After what happened last time, we need it. Care to peruse the pages with me?”
The venture captain scoffs at Miji's remark and tries to educate the young pathfinder.
“Well, early crusaders had amazing adventures fighting the Whispering Tyrant, orcs, and a whole host of other threats, but they don’t have very many records that aren’t as dry as an Iomedaean’s hip-flask. This tome gives us important insights into the crusaders’ adventures. Rellakarabee Fustbickle, the gnome author, interviewed dozens of crusaders and wrote about the most heroic and tragic deaths in this book. It wasn’t very widely published, so it’s been difficult to get my hands on it. The poetry is a bit purple, too. Not really my style—but perhaps it’s something you’d be able to interpret? Is that adventurous enough for you?”
A raucous in the tavern draws the Venture Captain away from your group. "I'll be back. I just need to see what the fuss is about. Talk amongst yourselves for a bit."
Rellakarabee Fustbickle was a gnome poet, today known mostly among literary scholars. His subject matter revolves around heroic figures and tragic deaths. His style is too melodramatic to gain significant acclaim, though he is popular in some circles.
Fustbickle based his poems on true stories from the Shining Crusade. However, the finer details are ambiguous at best. Rumors suggest he was on speaking terms with the mortal Iomedae.
Lastwall was established in 3828 AR, when it seceded from Taldor. It is a benevolent military dictatorship, primary focused on keeping the Whispering Tyrant locked away and the orc hordes of Belkzen at bay.
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"The author, Rellakarabee, bases his poems on true stories about the Shining Crusade, except he adds far too much melodrama from what I recall. The details are vague though there were rumors that he knew Iomadae as a mortal. If you didn't know, Lastwall is a benevolent military dictatorship. Their main concerns are the orcish hordes of Belkzen and the Whispering Tyrant. I am confident that I can interpret this book, alone if I have to."
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Zora sits with her hands folded in her lap, listening to the Venture Captain speak and then Mr. Stark.
"I am pleased we have an educated fellow with us," she says in response to his summation of the tome. At the mention of the Whispering Tyrant, her head lifts.
"The Whispering Tyrant, you say? Well then. I am indeed interested in translating or interpreting this tome."
While Besnik is out you all discuss what you know of the eccentric author and of Lastall. As you puruse the book you come across a curious poem... The poem is damaged a bit from smeared ink that is so old and tough not even mending or make whole can repair.
You all take a turn to read it
Besnik returns and sees you all hovering over the poem. He scratches his chin and then says to you reassuringly "We may not be able to read every word of this poem, but what we can read is more than enough to tell us that we need to investigate this site. What is clear to me is that the poem references some sort of protection against the Whispering Tyrant. The Knights of Ozem have always been secretive about the many and varied ways they keep that old lich locked away in Gallowspire, even among themselves. It’s possible that they have no idea this particular protection exists. Whatever Gydular is, it must be important.”
KNOWLEDGE Arcana, History, Religion
KNOWLEDGE HISTORY, LOCAL OR RELIGION
KNOWLEDGE GEOGRAPHY, SURVIVAL OR PROFESSION MAPMAKER
A thorough analysis of the poem reveals the following information, which is sufficient to pinpoint the location. Gydular’s Point was once a famous peak in the Hungry Mountains, as the view if provided of the surrounding area was both majestic and militarily strategic. In 4187 AR, a powerful earthquake crumbled the peak, leaving massive
slabs of jagged rock that locals renamed the Greyshards.
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"Hmm, from what I recollect, the forces of Lastwall no longer have a direct presence there. Too many cultists and the unholy presence of Who shall not be named is a bit much for them. There are wards and protections though, layered together. Also the knowledge is all compartmentalized which helps if one of them is compromised, but it keeps the future generations from knowing how to keep him imprisoned. Not well thought out. Though I think I can pinpoint the location, since Gyndular's point used to be a famous peak before it was ravaged by an earthquake. The locals have renamed it the Greyshards."
As Benedict tells you what he remembers of Lastwall, the Knights of Ozem and of the Whispering Tyrant you all come across a significant piece of art next to the poem in the Tome of Righteous Repose. The piece depicts three samurai in a Minkai art style. Venture- Captain Besnik reacts strongly to this piece.
The Venture-Captain jolts upright. “Minkai art! Let’s see, the Minkai Empire was founded in 3619, and the empire’s first explorers didn’t reach the west coast of the continent until at least 3691 ar, which leaves only sixty years before the beginning of the Shining Crusade itself. These women could have been among the first Minkai citizens to reach the Inner Sea! Let’s see, what secrets does the poem on this page tell us about the location?.....Ah very well Agent Stark- Greyshards...yes... yes.. that makes sense.”
"You all must depart at once." Besnik says and starts rummaging around his office..."Here.. take this... and this... and this too.." he says shoving the items into your hands.
"Go...go...find it and come back and report!"
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Zora ponders what she might know, but Mr. Stark's knowledge is superior to her own. She takes the wands with a bow to the captain.
To her comrades she says, "I can use both of these, but they should be placed among our number equably. Would anyone wish to hold one in case of emergency?"
Zora knows little of Minkai, her education being focused on more metaphysical concerns. "Will it be cold or inclement near this former mountain, Venture Captain?"
If he answers that it is likely, she will call in a favor to obtain a wand of endure elements. Additionally Zora stops by a wizard's shop to purchase a scroll of tongues and another, back-up scroll of comprehend languages to add to one she already has . Then, she seeks out her comrades and pronounces herself ready to travel.
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"I do not fear his name... Tar-Baphon, the Whispering Tyrant... the god killer. It would be my honor to explore these lands and find what we may. Perhaps, some clues to these compartmentalized protections... Anything we can do to aid the Knights in their quest to protect the world from him, is worth risking my life for."
"Not to say that you all may be lacking in certain adventuring skills....but I really want you to survive and come back to me to report so I can close the files....so take these too...I always carried these items in my prime when I went out for the society. Use them well."
The journey takes 7 days as the group adjusts to each others movement habits. Halfway through your trek, you pass by the closest major settlement, the fortress of Hammer Rock on the border of Lastwall. Spending the night near the fortress you are disturbed with some eerie sounds coming from the area but nothing disturbs you.
As you travel through the lifeless Hungry Mountains in Virlych toward your destination, a drizzle transforms into an ever more aggressive snowstorm, as if the weather itself were keeping you away, and strange whispers fill the air. As a small consolation, the tedious climb is shallow enough that you are not exposed to the dangers of altitude sickness. Eventually, you all find a toppled obelisk on a peak marking the entrance to the underground fortress. A staircase descends 30 feet into the mountainside.
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Zora spends a short period of time beseeching Pharasma for her insights, her head lowered in meditation.
She requests a little help-- most likely from Segray-- in donning a well-made breastplate over her robes, and straps her spiral-painted shield to her forearm. She drinks two small vials from her pack as well.
"I am prepared. I can travel near the rear."
Zora almost seems.... chipper, at the possibility ahead of undead that may need setting to rest.
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Segray gladly helps Zora donning her breastplate. Before going down the staircase, she elegantly takes out a wand from the folds of her cloak and she taps lightly her left shoulder. She then puts it back at her belt.
After that, she concentrates briefly before sending a dancing light down the stairs.
"Shall we go, companions?" she asks with a smirk.
The party makes it to the entrance and take the old stairs 30 ft down to the first room.
A maze of sprung traps obstructs this large entrance hall. Blades, spikes, blast marks, and bones litter the ground. Carved holy symbols of Aroden, Sarenrae, and Pharasma cover the walls, but many of them have been vandalized. Quickly looking around the group notices additional hallways going to the North, the South and one to the West.
The group decides to go left after entering the large room from the staircase entrance. The further away they get tot he staircase the less ambient light is visible in the area. They realize they will somehow have to resolve the lack of light before they continue, although Miji and Delio remark they have no trouble seeing making Balomar grumble.