Before much else could go on a young, well dressed, yet balding human man walks into the room, followed by two scholarly looking half-elves. Ambrus looks around and starts dividing everyone into groups while the half-elves passed around several ancient looking tomes, urging people to use caution with them.
Once Ambrus gets to the PCs, he quickly gives them a once over, nodding at all current Pathfinders. "You all know the drill. Everyone who isn't familiar with the Pathfinders, you'll quickly learn that knowledge is power. I'd start reading up on what you might find on that island. Start with the name Acererak. He was a sorcerer- what is it?" He spins around an annoyed look at one of the half-elves who nervously whispers something to him.* He nods, sends them away, then turns back to you all. "I'll be back shortly to brief you. Start getting to know each other, and start studying. That is of course, unless you want to end up dying of ignorance." With that, he disappears off into a hallway, followed by the two scholars.
"He sounds la the Captain or to be fair myself when I'm having a bad day", whispers Kheti while taking one of the tomes.
Then, looking at the books she has just opened, she adds: "Eek, what is that book written in? can't they pathfinders translate that in usable language?"
Turning a few more pages, she eventually reaches something she can read and raising her head, she asks Macrum. "You're going to be our lead on that I guess. What do you want me to look for. I have a fair knowledge of religion and undergrounds, but for the rest, I'm afraid I'm no use."
"I'm in the same boat as Kheti, but I will share what I know."
"Well, this bit here looks interesting." Bolest stares at the text, idly scratching at his cheek.
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Action/Skill List
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》 (legends and/or historical notations on the island or Acererak)
》 (prophecy or warnings in magical texts regarding Acererak)
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So important that they have appeared in person... I wonder if there would be a chance for an audience...
"I shall be happy to extricate what I can..." Marcum responds as he withdraws a pair of white gloves. He places them on before accepting the books. "One can't be too careful with the treasures of history. .." Out of instinct, he gives the others an admonishing look regarding the care of the books.
"Let's see what we can find..." He nods to Kheti. "I should say, 'Alric's Patterns of War' there by your right hand will provide enlightenment on magical engagements. He was a quite famous tactician who excelled in combating wizards and sorcerers."
"Sir Wol...err, Rick," He smiles over the edge of his current book. "If you will, there appears to be a pair of scrolls there, the seals match that of the Brothers Leichenbladt of Lastwall. They are quite infamous demon hunters, and adherents of your Lady, perhaps they have some insights into the dangers we might face."
When he sees Bolest already searching through are religious tome, he bows an approving dip of the chin and goes back to reading.
Rick nods then stares at the scrolls with apprehension before looking back to Marcum. "I don't have book gloves. Can I read them anyway?"
Marcum appears to stall a bit at the question. He smiles appreciatively at the request, his appreciation for the knight elevating. "Lacking protective implements, utilize cold water to rinse and a pinch of sand as an abrasive. That should remove some of the oils on your fingers. Then simply avoid touching your face or hair to prevent oils from collecting."
He pauses and notes that the others are looking at him with varying observations of their own. Marcum chuckles and leans back. "Of course, some of these tomes may have some limited protections of their own. But I appreciate the precautions...as I'm sure our hosts will too."
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"Let's see what we can find..." He nods to Kheti. "I should say, 'Alric's Patterns of War' there by your right hand will provide enlightenment on magical engagements. He was a quite famous tactician who excelled in combating wizards and sorcerers."
"Yes Sir, I will dig into it.", replies Kheti, taking the book from Macrum hands and setting it on a nearby table. Then, following the indications, she looks for any clues of what could be found into the lair of that wizard.
Bolest stares at the page, furrowing his brow a bit as he looks at a word. "This... what? Hm. Oh!" He rests his hand on his chest, and murmurs an incantation. "Much better." He continues reading through the text, clearly much happier with what he finds. He idly reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small round of bread, munching happily on it as he flips to the next page in the book.
Not having any sand handy, Wolfric rinses his hands with water from his waterskin then scours them thoroughly with his whetstone. Hoping that will help, he sets to reading the scrolls.
"The Decemvirate..." Marcum glances up from his book at the dwarf's cautious inquiry. "Think of them as akin to the Stone Guildmasters of Highhelm. A gathering of those best at their respective trades and long serving to the Society's causes. They are the nebulous "they" so many Pathfinders refer to when searching for the shadowy origins of various directives." Marcum turns the page of the book he's reading and finishes. "Rumors abound about them being immortal rulers of the Pathfinders..." Marcum shrugs, clearly indicating he does that put too much stock in the notion.
Kheti, unfortunately you are not able to tell much of anything from the time you picked up, unfortunately it was written in some obscure Taldane dialect that you cannot make any sense of.
Bolest and Marcum, collectively put together this information:
You actually find yourselves learning more about the nature of this Acererak fellow. Apparently, he was a human sorcerer-king of an island nation from ancient times, who believe it or not, was quite benevolent and peaceful. Acererak actually implemented many laws that put a stop to crime, corruption, and improved the quality of life for all of those in his nation.
Putting much of his time to perfecting the magical arts, he aspired to accomplish much in his short life, actually starting research that would later accumulate to spells such as Breath of Life. Unfortunately, as he grew older, he become eventually became irrated with how little he perceived himself to be doing. All he wished was to help the people living under his rule, and he found that he had too little time to do so.
At some point, he started to look into the necromatic arts, believing there was some way he could bestow immortality to hisself and the most virtuous people alive. After all, should purity and goodness not be eternal? Acererak found himself in dealings with all sorts of unsavory characters in his pursuit for the power to help all: necromancers, intelligent undead, fiends from Hell, Abaddon, and the Abyss... And all the while he found his sanity draining.
Now, an old man, with his mind rattled by evil forces, he made one last desperate attempt to secure immortality so that he could continue his research: he bound a Pit Fiend to help him take the first steps into lichdom. Abandoning his post as king, he swore to return once he had the solution to preserving life for the virtuous. The process however, further warped his mind and the once benevolent Acererak became a tyrant, using his own citizens to further his research.
He took steps that would secure his island nation from the outside world: He opened permanent portals to Hell, Abaddon, and the Abyss and made his island the combination of various evil planes, and demiplanes of his own making. The fabric of reality around the island became so fragile that the mere acts of teleportation or summoning became dangerous, as teleportation would allow evil outsiders to crawl through the rips in the plane, while summons would likely be fiendish and hostile to the one who summoned them. In fact, Acererak took so many precautions that he enhanced his castle and Tombs to resist spells such as stone to mud and stone to flesh.
After years under the lich kings rule... His island simply disappeared one day. Disappeared completely off the face of Golarion in fact... Nothing has been heard of him since then...
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Action/Skill List
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》 (what do I know about liches?)
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Marcum reclines into the confines of his chair and steeples his fingers. He applies all his guile and cunning to mask the fear turning in his stomach. What sort of madman consorts with demons to plumb for the greater good? His thoughts naturally go to Pan-ehl and the bargains he'd made...
"I feel like a mouse given a field commission and sent to the Worldwound." Marcum waves in the general direction of the Wise Quarter. "Why are not Lord Gyr's brethren in the Arcanamirium present? Wouldn't they be better equipped to prepare us for such an endeavour?"
He smoothes over his features, realizing that doses of fear are seasoning his tones inappropriately towards irritation. "What say the rest of you? Thoughts?"
He contemplates what he's read about liches and their ilk.
Bolest shrugs, though some concern is clearly etched on his face. "Well, this certainly serves as a good example of why you need to write an ironclad contract. I'm not particularly happy to see the less ordered planes being invoked." Bolest sighs, but then perks up. "Well. At least we have an opportunity to bring order to that chaos."
Reaching under the edge of his cloak, Bolest withdraws a small roll of parchment, and a journal and begins writing in both, his brow furrowed in concentration. He speaks as he writes, "I want to be sure we don't forget anything. I'm glad we had a chance to read these tomes. Outside of a dog, a book is certainly man's best friend." He pauses for a moment to think, then continues scribbling on the page. "Obviously though, inside a dog it's too dark to read."
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"The phylactery is the key." Marcum says over his steepled fingers. His blue eyes stare off into the distance as he collects his knowledge of the abhorrent creatures. "To cheat Lady Pharasma her prize, a magician must extract and trap their life force within a vessel."
He comes back to the present and looks to the others specifically Brommen. "But this madman has had a long time to secret the vessel away, to secure it. For with it safe, his immortality is assured." He looks to the rafters above as he accesses his memory. "There is legend of a lich found in a deserted castle on the Taldan / Qadira border. Taldan Phalanx and clerics of Abadar fought it to a stand still, drew and quartered it, then burned the remains. But they'd not recovered the phylactery. Baron Drabnius Olinn Sagrada had trapped his soul in a family signet ring. A year later, those clerics and soldiers who'd survived the encounter soon found themselves dying in various ways."
"Find the phylactery, destroy it. It's the only way to be sure." Marcum looks to a few unopened volumes and begins reading once more. "We will need to know what this villain held most dear, the focus of his emotional connection to this world...perhaps that will give us insight into what form the phylactery is bound."
An exasperated sigh escapes the Investigator's lips. He pinches the bridge of his nose. "My apologies, Sir Wolfric. In matters of knowledge, I tend to insist upon myself." Marcum closes the book in his hand and gives his attention to the paladin. "Mine is a researcher's view, yours is a practical and far more valuable one."
"Whoa, this is the best briefing I've ever had." Kheti says as she tries to process all the information. "There's just one thing missing. Up to now, we don't really know what the Pathfinders want us to do. We just know it's related to that wizard/lich."
She raises and starts pacing the room "Now, if we think our mission is to kill it, what do we know? He's going to be holed up somehow. No teleportation or summoning, less we get the visit of demons or devils. And we need to find about his phylactery before we take him down. So we're likely to encounter extraplanars as well that he could have called to protect him. We need to be equipped for that as well."
She stops in her tracks hearing Macrum last words. "The spell. You know, you talked about the breath of life spell. Maybe his quest to prolong life is what he is linked to. Or maybe her could be vulnerable to that spell."
And at this time, a rock falls and everyone dies
After about an hour of reading and sharing information with each other, the Venture Captain comes back, but this time alone. He points at the PCs and gestures for you to follow him.
Leaving the amphitheater, and the mass of people behind, he leads you down a set of stairs which seems to extend down hundreds of feet. When you get to the bottom, you are confronted with a solitary door that seems to be made of gold.
"Who you are about to see if your your eyes, and your eyes alone. If you value your life, I would not anger this person, and show all due respect that you would a King, Queen, or Emperor. Do you understand me?" Not waiting for an answer, he conjures a key into his hand and taps it twice against the door. This door fades away before your eyes and he gestures you inside.
Standing before you is a masked figure in a magnificent suit of armor, that seems to be made of a precious gemstone. He looks at you with crossed arms and gives a small nod. "When... if you return from this mission, you are not to speak to anyone about meeting with me. I... The figure pauses in dramatic fashion. "Am one of the Ten.
"I hope you learned everything you want to know about Acererak," he says curtly. "Because we are going to have one of our Venture Lieutenants teleport you onto onto a boat near the shore of that island. You all are some of the most competent adventurers we have available at the moment; everyone else is fighting off demons in the Worldwound. Anyway, you are going to be entering one of the two locations that Acererak may be hiding, with another group going into the other. Here's the catch."
Though masked, you can tell the man's expression is grim. "The truth is, we have no idea why Acererak returned after all this time, and we aren't even sure he is a hostile. Nothing has attacked any of the people we sent to the island thus far, and with someone of Acererak's reputation, we find this very surprising. We want you to find him and discover his goals. If he can be reasoned with, then go that route. If not, we want you to destroy whatever threat he poses, understand? Believe me, we in the Decemvirate wish we could send more experienced adventurers, however, that simply is not possible. We have our best agents and allies preoccupied in a strategic attack in the Worldwound right now, and we have not the time to pull them out of their current missions."
Wolfric nods to Marcum. "I have never faced a Lich myself, but your information is correct. Practically, we should avoid the Lich until we can recover and destroy the phylactery, but Pharasma will expect that it is destroyed."
Rick breathes a heavy sigh. "This will be no easy task, but I will do my utmost to keep you all safe. My skill set lends itself particularly well to fighting not only the undead, but Demons, Devils, and other fiends. I have been tested by many such creatures, but I feel we are fated to face far worse than what I have delt with thus far."
Shaking his head, Wolfric summarizes the knowledge gained so far. "Alright. We know that teleportation and summoning will not serve us well. We know the island is riddled with fortificaions and tombs, likely warded in one or more ways. And best of all, we know that a highly intelligent, hopelessly insane, wierdly altruistic lich rules the whole place."
"What else should we know, and how can we prepare better than we currently have?"
Wolfric furrows his brow. "Reason with Acererak? Surely our prime directive should be to destroy such an abomination?" Realizing his tone borders on indignation, Rick quickly adds, "Milord?"
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Action/Skill List
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》 (to cover up the effort)
As the mystery man speaks, the observational savant that is Marcum will apply his skills to an attempt to discern who the man might be. If for anything it's useful "rainy day" information for filing away.
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"Well summarized, sir knight..." Marcum acknowledges, but is cut off when the Venture-Captain returns to collect the group.
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"One would think," Marcum adds to Wolfric's observation. "Acererak swore to return once he had the solution to preserving life for the virtuous..." He shrugs. "Whose to say what he feels is virtuous...or what he discovered while on the other side."
Marcum bows respectfully to the masked man. "If I may be so bold, milord, the materials provided for research were extensive but lacked...a personal note on this madman." He presses his hands together, tips of his fingers touching his chin as he contemplates his words carefully. "As to the man he'd once been...do you have any insights into his personality, perhaps information about those closest to him. If we are to attempt diplomacy with Acererak versus destruction, it will be crucial to know those sorts of details."
The masked member of the Decemvirate nods. "One of the goals of the Pathfinder Society is to gather information. We have no idea where he went, so if possible, we would like to learn about his travels, and discoveries over the past few thousand years. For that reason, we will be sending one of our Venture-Lieutenants, a diviner and experienced chronicler, with you. Unfortunately, he tried to scry on the island already, but found the task near impossible. That is why he will be going with you. As for Acererak... if he proves to be unreasonable, I leave it to your best judgement. Just remember, he is the one who created the Breath of Life spell when he was still human. Imagine what else he could have done in this time.
"As for Acererak himself... we have obscure texts that state his phylactery may in fact be the skull of his wife. Let's just say, he did not consider her one of the virtuous after she protested against his advances into necromancy..."
The man looks as if he is about to dismiss you, but suddenly his mouth hangs agape. "Those complete fools... they never mentioned... This could prove to be a problem." The figure shakes his head. "I notice that your holy symbols show that some of you worship The Lady. While this is all well and good, the Venture Lieutenant we are sending with you... well... he is a vampire."
Kheti follows the Venture Captain eagerly with a half-smile.
Better and better, I can just imagine my report to the Captain. No I can't tell you who gave me that mission but it was someone above a Venture Captain.
As they cross into the room; she clicks her heels and salutes. Listening to the Decemvirate talk, she frowns. "Fifth Swords Kheti, Sir. I have ..." And she stops suddely as she realizes her questions have just been answered. What. Can he read into my mind?
"First a lich and now a vampire? Honestly sir, are you quite sure you've chosen your desired candidates wisely? My order requires me to destroy the undead in every form I find them. I do so dispassionately, and with great efficiency. Is there no one else to assist us, because I feel I really must protest."
"I have to agree with that, with all due respect, Sir.", nods Kheti, relieved not to be the same with similar issues. "I don't want to take someone with us who could easily be turned against us."
The man reaches under the helm with his hands and makes as if he is rubbing his temples. "It seems as if our spies decided to omit quite an important bit of information from their reports... your religion. Listen to me, the fact of the matter is that this Venture Lieutenant is quite possibly one of the only people we in the Ten trust enough to send with you all. He used to be a human, much like you, until we sent him on a personal mission many years ago. Believe it or not, he was once a Cleric of Sarenrae until we sent him on a mission about two hundred years ago to root out he den of a vampire menace... all did not go well for him. When we sent a recovery team, sure he had fallen in battle, we found that he had succeeded in his mission... but was changed. I have to ask of you to put aside your personal feelings for the undead for some time, to fight an even greater threat. Is a sorcerer lich who could transport an island the size of Kortos right into the sea, not more of a threat than a vampire who has been diligently helping us, never once showing any malice or spite, and in fact, hiding away the the catacombs here of the Grand Lodge as to not disturb those who might see him as a monster? We in the Ten see his true value, and it is that of an intelligent being who wishes to help spread knowledge."
Bolest bows low when he enters the room, taking a knee. He pauses a moment, then rises, his head still bowed and eyes averted. His face is solemn, but it is clear that he is listening very closely to the exchange. He does allow himself a small smile at Sir Wolfric's reaction, and nods at the masked man's words. "Would it not be better to allow this vampire to try to redeem himself in Pharasma's eyes, than to destroy him before he can acheive a great good?"
Rick bites back harsh words, takes a few sharp breaths through his nose, then speaks slowly: his jaw clenched. "I can bring myself to overlook this heinous situation for now, but I will warn him and so I am warning you: if this threat is abated and I survive it, I will have to come back to seek out this vampire and send him to a final rest."
"And no." the paladin snaps at Bolest, his true anger showing now. "Pharasma is not interested in redemption. The undead should return to death. No exceptions." He holds up a finger at the fetchling. "You dance on my patience, sir and I cannot be sure I'll be fast enough to catch you when you wear a hole in the dance floor."
The man gives a mysterious smile. "Somehow, if you all get through this, I don't think that will be a problem. Speak with him and get to know him some and you'll see what I mean. You'll find him to be a better man than most living. Do enough work for the Pathfinder Society and you will find yourself questioning what your divine skill to detect evil. After all, should a person not be judged by their actions rather than their state of being? It is the age old question of how one animated by negative energy could be considered 'evil' when their actions prove otherwise? We knowledge seekers have been trying to answer it since before even he was born. But, enough of that subject. Do you have any more questions? If not, then I will guide you to him. Ambrus, you may leave us."
With that, the Venture Captain give a deep bow before shooting Wolfric a look of warning, and exiting the room.
Wolfric returns Valsin's stare, unmoved.
When he is gone, the knight falls into his own mind. How am I to reconcile this meeting? Pharasma, guide me. His words of judgement for deeds not state of being fit perfectly into the Lady's word, but he is undead...
Bromen's echo of Bolest's thoughts ring truer with the knight, but Wolfric remains stoic, not willing to show the chinks in his armor to the prying Chelaxian.
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Anything on my spoiler above? Just in case it's useful down the line...and assuming I'm alive to use the information...
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Marcum rests his hands on the top of his cane, feet shoulder length apart as he listens to the finer tones of the room. He twists the top of the cane under his palm, the slivered pommel worked into the shape of a stylized owl. A gift from a friend...someone of whom Sir Wolfric and my new associates would not approve. Are my frequent dealings with Sebastian any different than an alliance with this vampire?
"Well said Master Brommen." He spares a look to Wolfric, gauging the paladin's temper. I've seen others in your place travel dark roads. How will you face the tarnish of your compromise when introspection takes hold?
But there is something even more troubling than the birthing of potential strife in the group. There is the disconcerting lack of coordination on the part of the Pathfinders. Are things moving so rapidly something so important as a paladin's deity is overlooked?
"To hear it said this way, milord, that your organization knew not the nature of its chosen recruits..." He shakes his head with uncertainty. "You'll understand if I'm unmoved by the Society's intelligence network."
He bows his head, a shallow gesture of silent apology for any perceived insolence. "In teleporting to this ship, will we be given time to gather local intelligence on the island? In my experience, the shackles of legend are normally borne by loyalists and leaders alike. Acererak may have had confederates on this side to let him know the time was right." Marcum taps his cane once on the stone floor. "I have a contact in Katapesh who might be of assistance."
Pinching her lips while listening to all the arguments, Kheti eventually can't stop herself.
"Don't you all see it. I mean, haven't we just learned about someone who wanted to get good people to live forever. And then to do that he ended up making pacts to turn himself into a lich. That's just the same on a smaller scale. if he was turned as a vampire, why did they not kill him and raise him back to what he was? It's just so very convenient to have someone who can be there forever, and a good spy . And for him, it means he's got all the time to fulfill his goals whatever they were."
She looks at the Decemvirate with an air of disgust. "I swore to my Captain that I was going to help, so I 'll do it, however distasteful that sounds. But I want to set things straight. The mission is to find what this lich is up to and if we don't think we can reason with him, we get rid of him. And we take your spy with us and do not try to kill him. That's fine, I can do that. But your diviner has better be able to take care of his own, cause I'm not going to lift a little finger for him or even try to shoot around him if he's between me and a target. And he doesn't try to enter my mind or touch me else the gloves are off. These are my terms."
The man's lips twist now, and it is quite clear that he is annoyed. "As long as the mission is not jeopardized, then I am fine with whatever actions you take. Do hear this Andross? The man looks in the corner of the room*, rather than you. "Some of these adventurers have misgivings about your nature. They would liken you to little more than a monster... I now have a secondary task for you. Interact with them, and show them the true side of you that they may overlook otherwise. Do not get in their way, and do not forget that this may be the moment you've been waiting for.
"Now," The man says, "As for your other concerns. We had a wizard fly over the island the second we got wind of its appearance. If he is to be believed -which at the moment I am seriously concerned about- there are no locals on the island. Absolutely nothing. If there was once a nation there, it seems that a few thousand years has either placed it underground, or the jungle took over completely. There are, however, currently a large force of Pathfinders setting up camp along the coast closest to Kortos, while the Osirians have set up camp along the coast closest to their border. The Pathfinders in particular, may not all be there at once, as they have been tasked with venturing in the other, smaller dungeon complexes that are on the island. The Decemvirate... we will be heading to the center of the island to Acererak's former castle. I'm not exactly sure if you picked this up in your reading, but the Pit Fiend that Acererak bound, as well as the portals to the evil planes should be located there. We dare not send anyone else on such a potentially suicidal mission so we will go and discuss the situation with it, and whatever else might be there, under the assumptions that if they are indeed hostile, we will easily put it down and close the portals... but that may take time."
"Understood, Sir. I will not let it affect my mission.", replies Kheti, following the Decumvirate eyes to the small glitch in the air.
What is that? A way to scry us. And he knew about it. So that must be the vampire supposed to go with us.
She looks directly into the scrying point and let out a quick smile, but there is no warmth in it.
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Marcum smiles inwardly and gives an acknowledging bow. Understood. Your organization has used my services in the past and you know my results. Next time...should I survive this...you've but to ask.
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...'this may be the moment you've been waiting for'... Interesting. One afflicted with nigh eternity trapped in shadow, sent to investigate one who's leveraged his soul for immortality. One on a mission of justice...the other a lifetime bent toward hubris.
Marcum's words are automatic, his thoughts elsewhere. "I shall endeavour to uncover what I can prior to entry. Perhaps those in the area have further notes of pertinence to our mission."
"For you, our esteemed guide..." Marcum estimates the vampire is either in shadow or listening in magically if their host is speaking to him directly. "...in your dissertation of positive qualities, would you be so bold as to include just what 'chance' is it this island and the dread Acererak afford you?"
I wonder, is he like Sebastian? He sought a cure for the thirst given by the sire who raped his mother. Does he seek a cleansing of the curse?
With that, the man nods at you and leads you to a secluded part of the Lodge, even further down into its twisting and winding halls, where the floor seemed to grow dustier and the air thicker. Eventually you've made so many turns that even those who have been in the building before have forgotten their way to the amphitheater. There are no torches in this part of the building, nor are there windows to let in moonlight, so the man casts a light spell to illuminate the corridors. Finally you reach a dead end where there is nothing but a trapdoor on the floor.
He gestures to the trapdoor, as if he wants you all to climb inside. "Andross, the adventurers are ready to see you."
After a moment you here a hoarse voice reply, "Yes, yes send them down. I want to inspect them with my own eyes, not through this blasted crystal ball."
"Is this the vampire?" Wolfric asks Valsin who nods.
Peering into the trap door, Wolfric addresses Andross. "Hear me vampire. I have been assured of your fidelity, so I will not destroy you on sight, but you should know that you now invite a paladin of Pharasma into your lair. Do not doubt that I will end you at the slightest provocation for I cannot suffer the undead on this world. However, I may be able to suffer a cursed man doing his best to help good survive. Do we understand each other?"
You hear a slight chuckle from beyond the trap door, yet see nothing as there is only pitch blackness. "Believe me Sir Wolfric, I have understood the nature of my curse from some time now. I allowed myself to be subjected to one of the Ten's Geas spell, preventing me from betraying the Pathfinder Society or subverting its goals by any means, be it directly or indirectly, in addition to multiple other Geas spells as a failsafe, preventing me from ever seeking to remove these spells... not that I would nor could. Who would be foolish enough to stray away from the Ten's commands, and who would be powerful enough to break the enchantment set out my one of their members?
"You have nothing to fear from me and would be happy to subject myself to your morality piercing gaze. I think what you see will be quite an interest to you. in particular."
Rick, satisfied and more than a little intrigued, descends the ladder and gazes into the vampires soul.
The vampire smiles as you descend downward and you realize that he looks terribly like an average fifty year old human being... save for the fangs that inhabit his mouth. He stands with his arms behind his back as you stare at him.
You find that he was not lying about the state of his soul being of interest to you. While the air around him seems to radiate with evil due to the dark energy and magics that undead are often powered by, as you look inward, you notice that his soul itself is not corrupted. In essence, though his person definitely detects as evil, his heart does not.
He gives you a small nod in acknowledgement. "I've been the target of a Paladin's smite, channeled positive energy, and various other powers used to target evil beings. I am sad to say that they have all proved effective, and I still bare the scars from those who misunderstand me... however, I was the subject of much study, as my core seems to not have been corrupted. Perhaps... it was a gift from Sarenrae herself, as though I must remain in this cursed form, I seem to have retained my humanity... so to speak."
"How is this possible?" Wolfric' voice is a hoarse whisper dripping with amazement.
Was I too soon to condemn my Anya?
Andross shakes his head. "Believe me Sir Knight, I wish I understood that myself. I understand the obligation that you owe your goddess, and find no fault in it, however, I must ask that you postpone it until I have completed my duty to The Dawnflower. I fear that I har yet to repay her kindness with true redemption, and can not afford to die until I have done so.'"
Above the trapdoor, Kheti listens with suspiction to the strange behavior of the vampire and paladin. I'm not going to get charmed by him. It's my duty to keep wary, she thinks over a shiver of fear.
Summoning her courage, she takes a small stone out of her pocket an lauches it in the air where she starts orbiting her head, lighting the surroundings. Then, reaching the edge of the trapdoor, she jumps down.
As she lands, she turns to face the vampire.
"So that's you. You've heard and seen everything though the little spyhole I saw up there.", she says as she cross her arms defensively, her body tight as a spring.
Andross bows respectfully* before gesturing to the crystal ball midst a large stack of books. "Yes, I'm terribly sorry I was forced to snoop; unfortunately my curse limits me in the places I could travel. The only safe place for me outside these walls would indeed be Geb, but Absalom has been my home in life, so I will not abandon her in undeath. Still, the crystal ball also does allow me to see wonders that I would never be able to experience otherwise in this form. The sight of the sun setting over the Iron Peaks, or conversely, the sunrise in Oppara..."
"I understand what you're trying to do. And you're not going to convince me you're doing the right thing. You may not have lost your soul yet thanks to your goddess, but one day you will.", she starts to reply.
"No, don't answer to that, that's neither the moment nor the point. I gave my conditions and you have accepted them. So I'll keep my sworn word.", she shakes her head and adjusts her pack. "If you're the one teleporting us to our destination, I'm ready whenever every body is."