Getting set up
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Somewhere on the outskirts of Almas, A short, harried-looking man runs up to a fine but unassuming darkwood wagon and knocks on its door.
"Curtain call in 10, Mr. V!"
Inside, a man is donning a spectacular mask that a shrewd observer would recognize as the mask of a higher-level Razmiran Priest...though it appears to have been tastefully adulterated.
"I'll be right there."
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Inside an establishment of ill repute, down the docks of Absalom a broad shouldered Taldan raises his eyes from his cups to gaze upon a young boy, clearly showing signs of uneasiness towards his surroundings:"So... to sum it up Mr Valertis, the venture captain requires your immediate presence at the grand lodge. I don't know why, I was just told to bring you back as quickly as possible. It seems something came up and it could be huge" finishes the valet.
The Taldan just grunts:"... or it may be nothing at all. Has happened to me before. But who am I to contest the wisdom of our enlightened superiors? Lead the way" says Rogar raising unsteadily as he climbs on his feet.
"But before you do that... make sure to pay for the ale. I don't want the proprietors to be cross at me... and neither do you..."
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Across town in the Ivy District, another young courier makes his way into one of Absolam's finer opera houses. He silently makes heads up to the balcony seating to one of the private booths currently occupied by two figures. One is a young noblewoman while the other is well-dressed half-elf with raven-black hair pulled into a ponytail and a well-trimmed goatee. As he cradles a glass of wine in one hand, it's clear that he's more interested in the lovely young lady than the play going on below.
Averting his eyes, the courier taps the half-elf on the shoulder before silently offering him a sealed letter. Without saying a word, he takes the letter and tears open the seal, glancing over the note inside. He then nods to the young boy, who bows before retreating back through the door. With a wistful smile, the half-elf turns back to the noblewoman and says "I'm terribly sorry, m'lady, but it seems there's a pressing issue in The Society that I need to attend to. Do look me up once I've returned, though. I'd love to pick up where we left off."
He then finishes off his wine, bows, and makes for the exit. After a quick stop at his apartment to change and grab his gear, he makes his way toward the Pathfinder Lodge.
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Krya rolls up her mat as she finishes her prayers.
"Yes, I am aware I have been called, but I answer first to a higher calling," she says to the young acolyte that delivered the message from the Grand Lodge, and is waiting a response.
"Let me grab my gear, and I will answer them personally. You never know when we must depart immediately, so best to go to the summons ready to travel."
She grabs her pack, already containing her normal travelling gear, and heads for the lodge.
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The courier finds his last recipient in the Iomedaean cathedral. The large, scaled figure takes the message. "Oh, thank you. Inheritor's blessings!" Silas unfurls the message and reads it half-aloud to himself. "You have been summoned... Society mission... very important... Please report to the Grand Lodge." He folds it and leaves the temple. "Thank the Lady it's not in another tavern."
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When you all arrive to the meeting, you are met with a dour looking little man sitting behind a large desk. "Glad you could all make it here. We have found some ruins that need some exploring, and you are just the people to explore them. We are going to send you off to Thornkeep, so pick up anything that you need along the way."
After several days travel, you arrive at the keep, and venture through to the second level, coming out in a hallway wrapping around an octagonal chamber whose floor is painted like the night sky. There are bars between you and the chamber, but can see an entrance across from you.
Move about as you will, no order just yet.
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Bedecked in plate armor, Silas prefers to stand during their briefing. Tall even by the standards of his large race, a tower of metal and scales, he stands head and shoulders above most other Society members. His armor is unadorned except for a few scratches here and there. An iron holy symbol bearing the sword-and-sunburst of Iomedae clinks softly against his chest. By far the most well-made of his possessions is the sword at his belt, a clearly magical affair with a sparkling blue gem on its pommel.
"Ruins?" he wonders aloud after the briefing. "That's what was so important? I thought I've shown them I can do more than that."
a metallic voice responds.
Silas smirks. "Eight. All right, let's get going."
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A masked sorcerer in fine blue robes shakes his head. "If I'd followed advice like that, I'd still be a slave." He pauses for a moment; it is very hard to tell whether he is looking intently at the room or reflecting on something within himself. Gleaming lapis energy emanates from his mask and spreads to the entirety of his form before fading.
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Rogar listens to the little man's speech trying to gain control of his hangover:"Damn! Why do they always need to speak so loudly!?!? Whisper! It's an art, damn you!" and manages to stay silent for most of the meeting.
After htting the road, and when the cool air helps soothe the alcool worse effects, he asks smiles at Kyra and bows courtly:"Greetings my lady! I hope you don't consider me too bold but I have a favor to ask of you. Would you please help me with these magic sticks? I bought them following a recommendation but I confess I'm utterly dependent on other people when it comes to using them!"
Once inside Thornkeep Rogar moves slowly forward, sword drawn and stops just before the set of stairs in front of the group:"I guess in order to reach the nice room with the sky paintings we need to reach the entrance. It's not far it seems... but who knows what manners of traps could be ready to spring on our merry little group?"
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Wearing sturdy travel gear underneath his mithral breastplate, Aramil reclines comfortably in a chair as he smokes a pipe, silently listening to the mission details and his teammates comments. He offers no input of his own, though nods and smiles courteously when addressed. His only reaction in the meeting is a heavy cough from inhaling too much smoke at the sound of the metallic voice.
"Did his gear just TALK!? Sweet Calistria, how strong was that wine?"
Once at the ruins, Aramil sidesteps Rogar as he says "Here, allow me. I feel that I might have more of a knack for this."
Looking around, Rogar and Aramil find nothing of interest. Tattered and molded books lie about all written in an unknown language, and fall apart upon inspection. Upon walking into the star room, the party can see can see that the floor is painted in a likeness of the night sky.. a brilliant and perfect rendition of the sky. Around the top of the room runs a carved script in a foreign language.
The party moves through the sky room and opens the door into the next area, revealing a thirty-foot-diameter room that seems something like a silo— the domed ceiling rises twenty feet above, and the floor drops away into darkness below. A ten-foot-wide stone bridge with no railings crosses the shaft to a hall and door in the opposite side, yet a onefoot- wide gap separates the bridge from either hall. Below, two additional archways lie in the north and south walls of the shaft, thirty feet below the level of the upper entrances.
After Kyra taps him with the wand, Rogar looks around before advancing onto the bridge. He can see that there is a lever standing up from the floor on the far side of the bridge, and beneath him the cross tunnel exits from the cavern to the north. As he steps out onto the bridge, a spectral and demonic figure wavers into view at the far edge of the bridge. The horrible sight before you appears to have some sort of deformed, fanged bird for a head and coiling serpents for legs. The specter speaks out to you "Kinek a szabadság akartok a rejtély boltívek"
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Upon the creature's appearance, Silas immediately draws his sword. Two things are obvious about the weapon. The first is that its maker spared no expense in crafting it-- in addition to the bejeweled hilt, the entire blade is made of gleaming mithral, making it light as a feather. The second is that its maker was a bit incompetent. A visible crack runs down the length of the blade, a scar on a work of art. A fastening band has been added near the tip of the blade to keep the halves together, a clearly stop-gap measure that can't possibly hold for more than a day. "It's a demon!"
The sword sighs.
The demonic specter pauses expectantly, awaiting an answer. With none forthcoming, he speaks again in a different language. "Bu who palikti jums ieškoti Enigma skliautus?"
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"Yeah... that's EXACTLY what I was thinking too... Honest!" says Rogar, a grin spreading on his face despite the possibly grim implications of not being able to understand the meaning of the horrible apparition words while standing in the middle of a bridge without rails suspended above what seems like a bottomless pit...
The specter cackles at the groups response, and suddenly vanishes, leaving behind two very large snakes where its legs were.
Aramil
Vanzetti
Kyra
Rogar
Silas
Constrictors
The Snakes lunge forward at Rogar
But they both bounce off of his armor.
Bold May Post
Constrictors
Party
Retcon perception:
Rogar lands a powerful blow on the blue snake while Bolger lands a good solid blow on the red snake, which is immediately followed by a strike from Kyra. Vanzetti uses a wand to cast Bless, and Aramil sneaks forward to land a bolt in Blue
Blue Constrictor lunges out at Rogar again but misses.
Red meanwhile tries to take a bite out of Kyra, and manages to bite her and begin to coil around her.
Party- Silas x2
Red- 10
Blue- 19