Yridhrennor recognizes the sign as that of Baphomet, Demon Lord of Beasts, Labyrinths, and Minotaurs. His faithful often wield a glaive, which would fit with the crusaders' choice of arms.
Steave divvies up the loot to redistribute the load. "If you don't like wearing armor, these chain shirts are excellent. I used to keep one for a nightshirt when we were behind enemy lines."
When the group is ready, he heads out.
Theran will look over the chain shirt. He'll give it a shake to see how loud it is, bend it to see how flexible. "Perhaps later, once it has been cleaned. I do not want any of that growing on me."
"That symbol belongs to Baphomet, the Demon Lord of Beats, Labyrinths, and Minotaurs. His warriors and faithful fight with glaives for some reason. It's not a weapon I'd associate with animals, or labyrinths. I've heard people refer to a double-sided axe as a labrys, but that's not a glaive." Yridhrennor flushes when he realizes he's babbling. "Sorry.. I... um.. sorry I get very excited about these things." He pokes at the symbol with a stick again, this time calling up his mystic sight. "Réaltaí thuas, a thabhairt dom radharc thar radharc"
"That symbol belongs to Baphomet, the Demon Lord of Beats, Labyrinths, and Minotaurs. His warriors and faithful fight with glaives for some reason. It's not a weapon I'd associate with animals, or labyrinths. I've heard people refer to a double-sided axe as a labrys, but that's not a glaive." Yridhrennor flushes when he realizes he's babbling. "Sorry.. I... um.. sorry I get very excited about these things." He pokes at the symbol with a stick again, this time calling up his mystic sight. "Réaltaí thuas, a thabhairt dom radharc thar radharc"
[dice=Spellcraft Check]1d20+9
"Baphomet followers, I hate these guys. If we run into some alive ones I reserve the right to split some skulls, situation permitting." Saito says with a dark look on his face. "These cultist buggers...have cost me alot."
"Baphomet followers, I hate these guys. If we run into some alive ones I reserve the right to split some skulls, situation permitting." Saito says with a dark look on his face. "These cultist buggers...have cost me alot."
"You and many others," Anevia said, using her good leg to kick one body.
"But...it's fascinating, isn't it? We've come on actual cultists! The rumors are true, they are among us. We should bring the bodies with us as evidence," Teofil said, looking vaguely in the direction of the bodies.
"Yeah, it is definitely not a good sign." Saito agrees with Anevia, to Teofil: "I don't fancy dragging along full corpses, but with the symbol and maybe an additional piece of evidence?" Saito considers what proof he may need. Worst case scenario he could take their heads, a bit macabre perhaps, but it has been a macabre day.
Abelard takes on a distant expression as he hears that the symbol is that of Baphomet's "Huh. May I?" He takes the symbol from the elf, looking at it curiously. "So that's what it looks like. Ran into some of these cultists some 6 years back, doin' some sorta ritual. Might say I was guest of honour, well, me an' some friends o' mine. They burned out my eyes afore I got a good look at their symbols and suchlike. Good to know."
He pauses, deep in thought, before speaking again. "That ritual cost me three of my closest friends. Would sure like to settle that debt. Maybe today's not gonna be so bad, after all."
He smiles slightly. "Shall we continue?"
"I'm sorry to hear that Abelard. These Baphomets are the worst. Let's get going." Steave offers.
Lann led the crusaders on and in about a quarter of an hour they came to a cavern twenty feet across, the far end blocked by a heavy stone door guarded by four mongrelfolk. They eyed the crusaders suspiciously, but a quiet word from Lann got them through.
Beyond the door, they found a cavern two hundred feet wide. A small, dark lake filled most of the space. Curtains of fungi cast a soft, oddly colored glow over the water and showed more than a score of low, stone buildings crouched on a rocky island amid the waters. Rafts of mismatched timber bob about the length of a crooked pier reaching from water's edge to the island.
"Visitors must see the Chief," Lann said, apologetic. "The perils of the Darklands do not permit us to let strangers come freely, even with our own at their side. Too many things can twist the mind or cloud the senses."
"Sull is a reasonable man. He will want to hear your news. Opoli, our Spirit-Teller, may try your patience. The gods granted her a tongue to cut rocks and spared her the burden of charm."
Yridhrennor places a comforting hand on Abelard's shoulder. His cheeks redden slightly as he feels the quiet strength in the crusader's arm, but the smile he gives is warm and friendly. "We'll be there for you, whatever you need. We're friends, and we'll help!" He takes on a serious manner when the crusaders rally the group to press onward and follows them with renewed purpose.
At the gates to the city, Yridhrennor gives Falfaeren a sly look after Lann warns them about Sull. "I'm familiar with similarly blessed... companions. I'm sure we'll do well."
Falfaeren scoffs and is a bit more forceful as he directs Teofil.
"But, this place is astounding! I've never seen it's like before! I've only read about Darklands cities in histories, and even then they're either about dwarves or unpleasant things. This is just... I would love to spend a decade here, learning about your people!"
"Thank you Lann for your guidance and trust." Steave stows his shield and readies to meet the elders.
Theran looks wistful, "It sounds like all spirit-talkers are trying. Karroc was ours, and he always spoke in questions. He never had a straight answer. It's too bad he couldn't meet Opoli."
By the time the crusaders reached the island, it seemed that the whole town had come out to see them. Mongrelfolk crowded into a mostly flat, open area ringed by their homes and small shops. They couldn't have numbered more than forty, from the youngest limping child peering out from behind a parent to the eldest grandmother with feathers and half a cobra's hood gingerly lowering herself down on a rock. None spoke as a corpulent, rat-faced man shuffled up to a slightly raised chair between two huge toadstools. A pair of women about Lann's age followed him out and stayed close, rarely letting the crusaders out of their sight. Another woman, barely out of childhood and carrying a white slug nearly as long as her arm, came with them but stood apart. A small space soon opened around her.
All stood in silence for a pregnant moment before the rat-faced man made an irritated gesture. Lann stepped forward and bowed.
"Hail Sull, Crawler-Slayer, Victor of the Three Thunders, Who Stands in Light in Dark, Last and True Heir of the First Crusade, of Neattholm, Chief by right, writ, and election. I bring before you crusaders from the Above, who have grave tidings and wish leave to pass through your patrimony to resume their holy task."
"Welcome, crusaders," Sull said. He had a high, gasping voice. "Share with me your tidings. Do you know why the earth shook?"
"They bring their own spirits among us," the woman with the slug said. The creature lazily extended its eyestalks. One ran down the scales on her arm but the other seemed to peer Falfaeren and Theran. "Be not deceived, they come not alone!"
"Revered Spirit-Teller," Lann said. "They have uncovered their hearts to us. They came upon my party unaware. Without them we could not have drawn Crel from the stones that fell upon him."
"Stones fall upon fools every day. Any foulspawn may have the wit to pretend kindness."
"Revered Spirit-Teller." Saito addresses the woman. "By what means may we prove ourselves? If you have the capability of reading my mind or seeing my intent I invite you to do so, I will not resist."
"To answer your question, Chief Sull, we saw Khorramzadeh, the Storm King of the Worldwound, attack Kenabres with hordes of demons. The earth shook when he completely obliterated Kite and the wardstone. How, we do not know." Steave began.
"We were saved by Terendelev the Ancent when we fell into a deep chasm that opened near the cathedral where we stood. We believe that saving us was one of her last acts before she was killed by the Storm King."
After a pause, "We seek a way to return to the surface to join the defense and restoration of Kenabres. Besides Lann and his companions, we found this backpack in the caverns enclosed in a magical bubble. Our magic user can better describe it if you want." Steave sets down the backpack we found here.
Yridhrennor gasps in wonder as Sull speaks. "You're descended from survivors of the First Crusade? That's astonishing!" He pulls out an empty book and a pen. "Please tell...." A cough from his familiar brings him back to reality. "Um.. perhaps another time?"
"Revered Spirit-Teller." Saito addresses the woman. "By what means may we prove ourselves? If you have the capability of reading my mind or seeing my intent I invite you to do so, I will not resist."
"How indeed?" she said, stroking her giant slug. "What trials would you submit to, that the foulspawn would not? They are not as earthly flesh. They do not know pain as we do. Will you-"
"Silence, crone!" Sull snapped. "By mine own decree the trials are no more. They availed us not against the traitors, accursed be their names. Sull hocked and spat an impressive amount of phlegm.
The Spirit-Teller hissed and her slug rippled across her arm, but she obeyed. For a moment he glared at her before turning back to the crusaders.
"The Lady Dragon slain. The wardstone... My grandfather's father was there... It shined so... These are dark tidings."
"Easy dooms to speak, if they wi-" the Spirit-Teller's words died under Sull's glare.
"All of us come from the line of crusaders," Sull said. "The Above turned away from us when the Worldwound warped our flesh, but we remember. All of us say the words when we set childish things aside. 'We were the watchers on the walls. We swore to stand as long stone abides and sell our lives dear. The Above turned from us, but we remember our words.'"
"We are few," the Spirit-Teller said. "Why should we throw our lives away to spare the Above? Our deaths will not hold back the Abyss."
"We spoke the words," Sull said. "They are our words. If all the Above falls, we are still ourselves. We do not forget. We do not turn. We do not break our oath."
"We are few here, but many in the Below. My best will go forth and make all known to them. You have my safe passage and blessing, for two boons. In your path sits a den of traitors, driven from fair Neattholm. We could ignore their broken faith once, but no longer. Bring to them the fate that waits all oathbreakers."
"And when you see the sun again, tell the Above that we remember our oaths. Tell them the Children of the First Crusade are coming home."
"I cannot speak for my companions, but I swear if I can do these things I will." Saito promises.
Yridhrennor frantically copies everything Sull says. "I promise you, by the name of my House, Arahaelon, your tale shall not be forgotten!" He pauses in his writing, and seems apprehensive. "I'm not sure how to ask this properly, but... could you describe the oaths they broke? What did they do?"
Abelard nods. "I 'ppreciate you bringing them to my attention. Been feelin' a mighty powerful urge to smite somethin' ever since I landed down here. Nest 'o traitors sounds like just the thing. Shall we go?"
Steave waits his turn to reply. "Thank you, Chief Sull, for your safe passage and blessing. And when we reach the surface, I will happily join the chorus of the truth that the Children of the First Crusade are returning home."
After a deliberate pause, "However, I am no mortal's weapon for vengeance. If your traitors support the Abyss, then our directions align, and I will gladly give you your second boon. On the other hand, if your oathbreakers simply disagree with a political majority of mortals, then I will not challenge them." He crosses his arms across his chest to punctuate that he is not a mercenary.
Galin nods in agreement, If your path is as ours, then you will gladly have my help. But if not, and you seek our assistance for other reasons, you will likely be disappointed.
Galin nods in agreement, If your path is as ours, then you will gladly have my help. But if not, and you seek our assistance for other reasons, you will likely be disappointed.
"The traitors made congress with the Abyss, wrote their names in the black book, sold their breath, and slew five of our own before they were cast from us," the Spirit-Teller said. "They drank the life of my own father. You would make excuses for them?"
"Opoli speaks the truth," Sull said when she finished. "We found demonic writings, word of their dealings with cultists from the Above, Those Who Walk the Labyrinth."
Yridhrennor ponders a moment. "Baphomet?
Galen shrugs, I never made excuses for them, I just intended to make sure that they were our foes, as well as yours. Based on what you said, it sounds like we have a pretty good reason to dislike them.
Yridhrennor ponders a moment. "Baphomet?
[dice=knowledge(planes)]1d20+9
Galen shrugs, I never made excuses for them, I just intended to make sure that they were our foes, as well as yours. Based on what you said, it sounds like we have a pretty good reason to dislike them.
Opoli made a satisfied face and said nothing.
"I say these things only to show we do not propose to use you as assassins," Sull said. "But you do yourselves credit to ask."
Yridhrennor turns to Steave and the other crusaders. "If they worship Baphomet, we must do something to stop them. We cannot allow their evil to fester below Kenabres."
"Baphomets must be removed from Golarion." Steave replies with a degree of finality. Hopefully, some of them can see the error of their ways, so they don't have to be killed. He continues to himself.
"They are demon cultists. We fight demon cults. The path is clear." Still, it is plain on his face that there is more on his mind than simply smashing. He simply doesn't know what to ask. Strange feelings and dreams have come over him since his kin died.
Steave suggests that the group rest and spend the evening in safety. He hopes that their walking wounded can get fully healed or at least improved bandages.
Steave will look to replace his two pints of oil and sling bullets for less than a gold piece of expenditure. While out and about, he will attempt to gather information about Neatholme and the traitors.
Also, did anyone there recognize the silver holy gauntlet and briars token of Arqueros that looks to have been through a fire, half-melted and blackened that Steave offered the chief?
Yridhrennor has no actual needs, but he'll try to find a replacement staff for the one he gave away.
And, he'll join Steave on his info-gathering. "Um..is.. .is it OK if I tag along? I would love a chance to learn more about these people, and... um... " He trails off and looks at the floor in humiliation.
Theran will buy sling bullets, returning the ones Steave gave him. He'll also spend time cleaning the fungus off of the chain shirt to wear it in the morning.
As he scrubs at the armor, he'll set down the scrap of leather he's polishing with and curses under his breath when he reaches for it again. "Did you see a scrap of leather so big around here?" When he notices that it was Abelard he was addressing, he adds, "Sorry. Didn't see it was you."
The mongelfolk don't have much room to spare, but they find a place with a roof and walls, if not much else, for the Crusaders. They're quite happy to have the custom as well.
Steave suggests that the group rest and spend the evening in safety. He hopes that their walking wounded can get fully healed or at least improved bandages.
Steave will look to replace his two pints of oil and sling bullets for less than a gold piece of expenditure. While out and about, he will attempt to gather information about Neatholme and the traitors.
[dice=Diplomacy (gather info)]1d20+7
Despite Yridhrennor's off-putting "help", the residents of Neathholm are quite open with Steave. Many had their own questions about the surface, mostly about mundane details like the sky, rain, and castles. They're not eager to talk about the traitors, but Steave wins them over.
It seems that about a decade ago, at the last election for chief, Sull won handily over a childhood rival of his named Wenduag the Blue. Wenduag took the loss very poorly, supported by a small group of friends. From then on, he spent much time away from Neathholm. Everyone thought this for the best, as he and Sull clearly loathed one another. If many of his friends went with him, so much the better.
But the spirits brought a vision to the last Spirit-Teller, Pitran. They warned him that Wenduag's bitterness had turned to evil and he led many astray with him. Pitran took this news to Sull and the chief grew concerned, but the Children of the First Crusade are a people of laws. Though Sull honored the Spirit-Teller's visions, he did not consider them proof. Like the rest of them, Wenduag and his friends had passed the trials. They had rights, which the spirits had blessed. Sull would only order a watch kept when Wenduag's group came in from the wilds.
Pitran accepted Sull's judgment, but set about looking for proof. He used the gifts of the spirits to follow Pitran unseen and observed him and the others, including a few who normally did not leave Neathholm with them and none had previously realized were involved, speaking to a mad dwarf, Millorn, and men and women who spoke of helping Wenduag in the name of their demonic masters.
Armed with that news, Sull ordered searches of the homes of those who had secretly consorted with Wenduag and found demonic writings on the futility of the crusades, the omnipotence of the Abyss, and the supremacy of those touched by its power. To the traitors, that included the mongrelfolk and they need only accept their proper masters and they would be greatly rewarded.
Sull ordered Wenduag and the others arrested when next they came to Neathholm, something that should have been easy enough to do. But Wenduag's allies armed them with magic and weapons that made for a hard fight. Pitran and several of Neathholm's best warriors died in the battle. Wenduag and several others escaped, but the few who were captured refused to renounce their ways and so were cast out with the rest. They took up residence just far enough away that they didn't pose a constant threat to Neathholm, and Sull did not want to risk lives on a fruitless pursuit, so he set watchers on the tunnels that would bring them near and let things be.
Also, did anyone there recognize the silver holy gauntlet and briars token of Arqueros that looks to have been through a fire, half-melted and blackened that Steave offered the chief?
None of the residents recognized the item in particular, though a few knew Arqueros' sign as one that some crusaders carried.
Saito explores the city to get an idea of the area then gets some rest, ready to join the others at a moment's notice when the expedition sets out.
Saito explores the city to get an idea of the area then gets some rest, ready to join the others at a moment's notice when the expedition sets out.
Saito found little to remark on in Neathholm. The mongrelfolk got most of their food from the lake, pulling up pale fish and supplementing them with a variety of mushrooms. He didn't find a single beast of burden. He did, however, see that while they clearly scavenged all their building materials the people took pride in their town. They kept the paths swept, disposed of their trash in an ordered manner, and maintained a small shrine dedicated to their ancestors and the gods of the crusade. Many gave him speculative looks as he went about, but nobody interfered with his exploration.
Steave will share his discovered knowledge with the crew before the bed down to rest.
Satisfied he has a good idea of what is in his surroundings Saito listens to Steave's tale then passes out for a few hours to get some rest before they start out.
Uncomfortable in a new town, which he cannot really see much of, Abelard gravitates to the one place where he feels comfortable - and where attention is needed on what is close at hand: the forge. He will contribute his skills as needed, sharpening and repairing weapons; and getting to know the people as individuals. It's surprising what you can learn about people, even amid the clang of metal and the hissing blaze of the furnace...
Abelard made the acquaintance of the sister-smiths Riis and Siir, and their apprentice Lurt. Once he proved himself capable, the sisters happily put him to work.
The sisters were friendly, but businesslike women devoted to their craft despite the poor metal scrap they often had to work and rework. Lurt, a rather simple boy of sunny disposition, required a close watch to keep at his tasks instead of wandering off. The smithy stank of the pressed fungus logs that fed it, but did well enough for Neathholm's modest means.
Saito tosses in his sleep, dreaming of the past.
The crusaders get some much-needed rest. Neathholm doesn't have a day or night that they can see, but at one point the town does become rather quieter and most of the mongrelfolk vanish into their homes. What passed for morning came about the same way, with activity slowly resuming.
Eventually all the spells are prepared, weapons readied, and provisions sorted. The crusaders move out into the tunnels again. They travel at the pace of Anevia's limp and Teofil's stumbling, though both seen get help from the narrowing of the tunnel. Here the walls cease their natural curving and instead bear the marks of chisel and pick.
After perhaps half an hour's travel, about half of which came through the narrowing passage, Galin and Yridhrennor hear startled voices hissing in the darkness ahead.
"Belt up, someone's coming!"
"Let 'em come! Got a new club to break in."
Looks like Abelard is the noisiest. Armor check penalties and all. :)
Wow, they hear you coming a long ways off. Before they can even see the light. Ok. Do they give any hint to you at that distance? Let's call it...120 feet away. DC 25 to hear them, since the caves are pretty good for echoes and all.
(vision/darkvision to 30 ft only)
darkvision 60ft.
low-light vision
So Galin and Yridhrennor pick up the noise. Flavor text time!
Once warned of what lies up ahead, assuming that the information is shared, Abelard moves closer to the front, his handcrafted falchion drawn.
Just before they reach the foe, he holds up his holy symbol to his lips briefly, drawing on the power of his Empyreal patron.
Steave loads a bullet in his sling and then readies his shield. When everyone is ready to go, he starts walking forward at 20 feet per round while concentrating on Detect Evil. No sense running into a trap. Walking into death is perfectly acceptable.
Saito cast a protective spell on himself and inches forward behind Steave until he can see what's up.