11th day of Lamashan
In the Monastery of the Standing Stone in the Mindspin Mountains, the giant dwarf master is politely interrupted while he meditates. "Master, we have just received a half-orc emissary with a summons for you." The bald monk, a recent entrant to the monastery, is very apologetic for the interruption and bows before the dwarf and hands Rothgar Steelfist a rolled up scroll sealed with an emblazoned "M" on a red/black background. The wise dwarf, sensing no traps, breaks the seal and unfurls the scroll, which reads as follows:
"Master (insert your character's name), Golarion itself is in peril. An evil menace seeks to usher in an apocalyptic age of decay, disease, and undeath. Our prior prior efforts to defeat this menace have failed and it grows stronger with each passing day. Your fame and skill precede you as well as your efforts in the service of good. Your assistance is desperately needed to destroy the Harbinger of this tide of evil. Please meet me to discuss this matter in person at my manor in two days' time at sundown on the 13th day of Lamashan of this year. If you agree to hear me out, my emissary will give you further instructions."
Sincerely,
Silvana D'Artest, Magister
Corentyn
Archduchy of Longmarch
Cheliax
Similar scenes play out at the Temple of the Shining Star, Sarenrae's largest temple in Absalom, and in Kyonin (or whatever major city, Pele finds himself in). All of the scrolls are personally addressed to each of you.
Pele takes the scroll and reads it quickly, before turning his attention to the ring itself.
Fascinating, a predetermined single target teleport with one use only. And quite a fashionable piece to imbue with such magic, as well. I will have to speak with this Magister in some detail about the design.
The elven wizard strolls Kyonin for a bit, picking up some choice wine and pastry selections before heading back to Absolom, where he keeps a small apartment.
Some real action, finally!
Gideon rises from his prayers, taking the scroll and carefully opening them. He reads the letter slowly, taking the words in and considering them. He will ask some of the other clergy about Magister Silvana D'Artest, to see about her credentials. He will identify the ring to ensure it isn't cursed as well. He isn't untrusting of others, but he's not heard of her and he can't take unnecessary risks simply because someone requested him. However, if the world was as threatened as she claimed, his experience was needed..
After checking his calendar, he informs the rest of the clergy that he will be taking a journey for a while, and won't be available for some time. He spends the first day setting his affairs in order. He wasn't expecting to die, but he knew firsthand how dangerous such endeavors would be. He nearly died countless times the first time.
The second day he spends preparing his gear and warming himself up. A few exercises, a practice spar or two, and refreshing himself with his magical items. The three hours before he travels he spends in prayer to his goddess.
Before he uses the ring, he does take some precaution. He casts Life Bubble on himself first, then Death Ward. As a last minute thought, he casts Sanctuary right before using the ring.
Rothgar, a little upset by the interruption, stares down the monk, but stands from his lotus position to his full 8’ stature, and accepts the scroll. After checking it for traps, he unfurls it and reads it contents. He was a little surprised that Silvana had heard of him and located him within his mountain refuge. His monastery was only 50 strong at the time, but he surmised stories of an 8’ dwarf would attract attention. He had been bothered by requests for help and audiences before, but this particular summons intrigued him. Evil menace and undeath. He truly hated the undead, abominations that had no place in the lawful order of the world. If they were involved, he’d gladly join the cause that aided in their destruction. Yet, he knew Cheliax was a devil-worshiping empire, so he had reservations about Silvana. He would need to be careful. Rothgar alerted the half-orc emissary that he would attend the meeting to hear more from his mistress. He received the ring and the instructions. He was glad he would not have to make the journey to Corentyn on foot.
He continued with his days’ instructions and meditation. On the 13th in the morning, he gathered his fellow monks after breakfast and advised them he would be on sabbatical for a short time but would return home as soon as possible. He loved towering over his students. He dressed in his adventuring equipment – a robe and a backpack to the outside world. He carried no weapons other than a sling, which he rarely used, if ever. He hoped that Silvana was aware of his unique nature and that her manor could accommodate someone of his size. He hoped this would be his last journey in a lifetime that had taken him from the Dwarven clanhalls to his monastery. The more he advanced in his monastic studies, the more he knew he would stop being of the world – that at the time of ultimate enlightenment, he would become something else. He longed to discover what that was. Time to save the world once more. Rothgar took off his protective ring and placed the teleportation ring on his finger. Then, with a prayer to Irori, he concentrated on the phrase…
On the morning of the appointed day, Pele collects his things (mainly strapping on sword and bow, then donning a haversack and belt pouch) and slips the telwportation ring over his ring of invisibility
Before he heads to the meet, he casts a few preparatory spells, just in case.
Confident he was ready, Pele uses prestidigitation to clean himself of any dust or grime then concentrates on the key phrase for the teleportation ring.
Moving around half a dozen Paladin squires training in the courtyard, Flizzibus drills, encourages and reprimands his pupils. Smaller than all the boys and girls around him, he nevertheless commands the respect and attention of all around him. In contrast to other teachers he follows the path of encouragement and smiles to teach his class. In the background lounging lazyly on the ground, watching everything with mild amusement a beautiful golden retriever of enormous size spends the afternoon soon close to a meaty bone.
When a courier arrives, he excuses the class and sends them to the waterbarrels to wash of the sweat and grime of combat, before giving his full attention to the new arrival.
After carefully reading the scroll he assures his attendance and walks slowly to the headmasters office, informing him of his absence in the weeks to come, absentmindly stroking through the fur of his companion of many adventures trotting next to him.
Carefully phrasing his words to tell to his wive he breaks the news during dinner. Expecting and experiencing the harsh words, the bitter accusations and the intense lovemaking he has known before every new mission, he takes care to spend as much time as possible with his wive before arriving with carefully cleaned bits and pieces at the agreed upon place and agreed upon time
You concentrate on the phrase and your surroundings suddenly vanish and you find yourself in a beautiful gazebo overlooking a grandiose three-story manor at sundown, lit by floating lanterns, wherein a Chelaxian flag flies from the roof. You see a tall, gaunt half-orc around 6.5 feet tall, dressed in a fancy carriage driver's uniform, leaning against one of the columns in the gazebo. He seems to be awaiting your arrival and he is taken aback by the dwarf monk's size. He quickly speaks, "My apologies, good sir. Though I was told of your size, it is quite a different experience up close. No disrespect, it will not happen again." He bows as a sign of remorse. "Well, it appears that you are all here, the four of you. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Kelgorn, Lady D'Artest's driver. If you will please follow me, my mistress awaits." The half-orc seems refined in his manners and posture and dress.
He escorts you silently through a luxurious courtyard of fountains and topiaries, into the front parlor, and then up a spiraling marble staircase to a private study and reading room. The doors and ceilings are at least 10' tall so Rothgar is not inconvenienced. The walls of this spacious, tastefully decorated study are filled with shelves of leather-bound tomes on a wide variety of topics. A large desk sits against the far wall, its surface empty save for a stack of tattered pieces of yellowed paper. The carpet is a deep shade of crimson, and arrayed on it in a semicircle before the desk are three high-backed chairs fitted with velvet cushions. In addition, you see a reinforced bench has also been provided, most likely to accommodate Rothgar. "I will alert my mistress to your presence. Only one piece of business before I leave...the rings please." Kelgorn waits patiently for their return and then bows again, before exiting the room.
Pele appears at the gazebo hovering just slightly over the ground, with clothes immaculately cleaned and pressed. He faintly smells of sulfur, vinegar, and jasmine. His cloak is a heavy grey wool, worn with hood pushed back over red and black robes.
"Greetings, all. Mister Kelgorn, I am Pele Ento'Yoshi, and I thank your mistress for her letter of greeting." Tall and thin, Pele wears his hair closely trimmed. His pointed elven ears stick well out frmo his skull, and his blue eyes nearly match the brilliant blue stone worn at his brow.
Kn(religion) if appropriate.
"And greetings to you as well, Masters dwarf, half-elf, and gnome. I assume you received similar missives, which led you here to defend the world from evil? Well met, indeed, if so."
Sliding the ring from his finger, Pele places it in Kelgorn's hand gently with a smile.
"I should very much like to speak with the fabricator of such an item. It proved exceedingly well made, as well as being a rather attractively sculpted piece of jewelry. At their leisure, naturally."
Rothgar appears in the gazebo, his eyes quickly adjusting to his surroundings. He feels the firmness of the earth beneath his feet and he is filled with a sense of calm. He smiled at Kelgor's reaction, quite used to the impressions many had at seeing a dwarf of his stature. Seeing the servant's remorse, Rothgar quickly calmed his fears, "Kelgorn, your reactions and your words can only hurt or injure me, if I let them and I do not. The true measure of a man is not the size of his form but the nature of his character. Please lead on."
Rothgar nods good-naturedly at the elf's greeting, though he finds it disconcerting that the elf's feet do not grace the ground. Damn mage! "A pleasure, Pele, as well as the rest of you. May wisdom guide your way. I am Rothgar Steelfist, a humble follower of Irori, tasked with defending the world, as you. Let us walk the grounds of this beautiful estate to meet our hostess."
Besides his size, Rothgar’s physique strikes you curiously, as he is not as muscular or stocky as his dwarven brethren, but more lean, or as lean as a dwarf can expect to be. You first notice the night-blue cloak that covers his form. Underneath, he is dressed in a simple brown robe, though to the party’s sharp eyes, you see faint sigils adorn its texture. A silk sash with the symbol of a serpent is tied around his waist as well. You see no weapons on him, though his hands are enormous and his fists are covered in callouses. Silver bracers adorn his wrists and he walks the estate with an unnatural grace, clearly modified by magic. On his brow, he wears a gold headband with a sapphire inset in the center. He wears a small backpack and keeps his arms covered in the folds of his robe when he walks. He is bald with a silver beard tied in one braided knot and has deep blue eyes.
Inside the house, he silently thanks his hostess for the size of the doors and returns the ring with a nod, while he sits down cautiously, testing the tolerance of the bench. He sits in the lotus position while he waits.
Gideon arrives on location, noticing that there's at least one personally familiar face among the three other heroes. He might have heard rumor of other, powerful heroes, but even to him an 8 foot tall dwarf is a little unusual. He will greet the group with a nod of his head and a smile.
There's a strangely peaceful aura around him. One that, while nearly undetectable, causes others looking at him to feel peaceful when looking straight at him. His clerical vestments shift gently and constantly, as if a faint air current swirled around him. Underneath his tabard and silver holy symbol is shining mithral.
"Greetings, old friends and new comrades." he speaks. "I am pleased to see that others have answered the call." He will turn to the paladin. "Fizzibus! It's been more than a few years. Last I saw you we were celebrating destroying the Umbral Tyrant... What have you been up to since then?"
He will follow the guide, turning in the ring before entering the study. He'll replace his Ring of Protection now that he's done with the teleportation ring.
Arriving in the same spot as the others, Flizzibus is taken aback by the huge dwarf in their midst."Hei, big one, must be hard on the head sometimes? Ha, Well met Gideon, at least one familiar face. Good to see you. Well I am Flizzibus Feuerlanze. Small on statue, but do not let that fool you!" Standing in a golden engraven Full plate armor, with his helmet under his left arm, a lance in his right hand and a golden bastardsword on his back under a golden white laquered shield, he radiates unmistakenly confidence and power.
Rothgar smiles at the gnome, "Yes, banging my head on doorways can be annoying. Hence, why I moved and now live on a mountain."
Later in the manor, "So does anyone know anything about Silvana? I must say I am not familiar with the name."
Flizzibus just shakes his head. "Not me. Maybe Gideon or this chap here, Pele. Well, I have taken care of other agendas, lately. I am wondering if we are invited to a cup of tea! Would be just the right time for it!"
"Sadly, no. My studying has leaned towards the outside norm, not the mundane and commonly known. I would imagine our invite was for a bit more than tea, although I do have some Kyonin victuals to share, should anyone so desire."
The doors to the study suddenly open and a voice speaks out, ”Why don’t you ask me directly, Master Steelfist?” You look toward the door and you see a beautiful silver-haired elven woman with dazzling green eyes and dressed in velvet robes. She smiles and moves behind the desk and takes a seat. ”Thank you all for answering my summons. I would not have called heroes such as yourselves for idle reasons, such as sipping tea. Before I continue, let me answer the dwarf’s question, I am Silvana D’Artest and I am the local magister here in Corentyn. As Pele may verify, I am a mage of some renown. I serve as advisor to the ruler of this city, Zolar White-Wyvern, a retired hell-knight. I know the name of Cheliax conjures images of devil-worship, but that is far from the truth and I do my best to serve the forces of law and good, when possible, while masking my true allegiances from the Chelaxian government. The reasons I have summoned you are imperative…I seek the prevention of the Age of Worms and the destruction of its Harbinger!” Silvana pauses a moment to let the moment sink in, as she sees recognition in the eyes of Pele to the phrase "Age of Worms" and no reaction from anyone else.
kn (religion)
"Age of Worms? A most unpleasant fate, and a prophecy I had hoped was mere nonsense and ravings."
Pele bows to the magister deeply.
"In very short, a plague of undead and disease will be brought forth to consume all the land and bury what lives in necromantic filth. A bad day for all."
"I admit, I have never heard of it, would you care to tell us more?`"
Silvana leans back on her chair, ”I wish the prophecies were merely mad ravings. The Age of Worms is a prophesized age of decay and corruption, wherein the undead walk and rule Golarion. Its architects are the Cult of Kyuss. Kyuss was a former worshiper of Urgathoa and warrior/priest, who 1000 years ago, saw himself as the true god of undeath. He abandoned Urgathoa’s worship and sacrificed all 2500 souls in his city in the Mwangi Expanse to fuel his ascension to Divinity in an unholy ceremony. He was successful and his undead forces marched on Golarion. The general of Kyuss’ forces was none other than the first dracolich in recorded history – Dragotha! At the climax of the battle between Kyuss’ legions of undead and the marshaled forces of good, a sect of Druids known as the Order of the Storm found and stole Dragotha’s phylactery. The undead dragon fled the scene of the climactic battle seeking the Order, who spirited his phylactery off to places unknown, and due to this distraction and without their general, Kyuss’ forces were defeated and Kyuss was banished from the Material Plane. However, a small portion of his essence was preserved in an unholy monolith, many believe to be located in Dragotha’s hoard. Since then, the undead dragon has been plotting Kyuss’ return. A number of prophecies signaling the coming of the Age of Worms have come true during the past year and a band of adventurers that I previously gathered to investigate the matter have gone missing and I fear the worse. I and my apprentice Balakarde spent many years of our lives researching and eliminating these Cults wherever we found them. Unfortunately, upon hearing of his sister’s disappearance, Balakarde went missing about a year ago and has not been heard of since.”
Silvana pauses and rings a bell, wherein Kelgor comes in with glasses of wine for everyone. She sips some wine and then continues with her story. ”I know you must think of me as a crackpot, divulging stories of an impending undead apocalypse, but I assure you all I have said is true."
Silvana's face turns serious. ”So how do you stop the Age of Worms and prevent the coming apocalypse? I see of only one solution, the same one that worked 1000 years ago. Remove Dragotha from the equation. Yes, I know I have asked of you the impossible: to destroy the first and most powerful dracolich in Golarion’s history. But I see no other way!" She pounds her fist on the desk, causing it to shake, as she is overcome with rage and emotion.
Rothgar has been silently listening to the tale of the end of the world, imagining all he holds dear in life being overrun by hordes of undead. "So this Dragotha is a mixture of dragon and lich...I have fought dragons and I have fought liches....but never combined. I am fearful such a creature exists...yet intrigued at the same time." Rothgar was always looking to test the ultimate limits of his martial abilities...seemed there was no greater challenge than this!
"You have called upon the right people then." Gideon comforts the magister.
"No undead is powerful enough to stop the full glory of Sarenrae's light. Not even the first Dracolich." he smiles at her. "You have my word."
He looks to the others. "I will need to make preparations." he says. "But now I know what we're up against, I can pray for the proper spells."
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"Indeed, I agree, Gideon. Proper selection of spells and equipment will go a long way to allowing our victory."
Pele thinks about everything he's read about dragons, liches, and dracoliches, as well as Kyuss and the larger church of Urgathoa herself.
Dragons: kn (arcana)
Liches: kn (religion)
Dracoliches: kn (religion)
Kyuss: kn (religion or planes)
Church of Urgathoa: kn (history)
"Magister Silvana, are there any of these druids left around? If their order kept details of the phylactery or about the dracolich itself, that information would be immensely valuable."
"You certainly are a confident bunch, thinking you can destroy one of the most powerful creatures the world has ever known. Of course, one cannot simply waltz into a lich’s lair, kill him, and be done with it. Dragotha may not know where his phylactery is, but that doesn’t mean it’s useless to him. Destroying him before you destroy his phylactery is as good as finding it and handing it over to him. So your first order of business should be to find his phylactery and destroy it. And that’s where it gets complicated. I have no idea where it may be hidden. Obviously, neither does Dragotha, and that’s a good thing. Certainly, his doubt to its location is the main reason he hasn’t tried to simply destroy himself as a desperate way to discover its location."
"In response to your question, Pele, historians believe that the Order of the Storm died out not long after Kyuss' defeat, hunted down and destroyed by the last surviving members of the Cult of Kyuss. These records are incorrect. The Order instead retreated to their stronghold on a remote island in the Eye of Abedengo called Tilagos. On this island there is rumored to be a library of sorts, a repository of the Order’s lore. It has been sought for centuries by wizards, scholars, and explorers, for it is said to be filled with hundreds of years of history, memories, dreams, and of course secrets. Secrets are so valuable, aren’t they? If a written account of the secret of what happened to Dragotha’s phylactery exists, it must certainly be there."
Silvana pauses, "Of course, there are complications—there always are, right? Before they built this library, the Order of the Storm drove a lasting bargain with primal elemental forces. They sacrificed their lives to whisk the island’s interior off the Material Plane. In its place is a barren rock surrounded by an ever-raging storm of such intensity that ships that approach within ten miles are invariably lost. The island itself appears on no maps, but the stories hint that the druids left a way for those in need to reach their secrets while at the same time warding the place away from the prying eyes of Kyuss' undead fanatics." Silvana pauses to take another sip of wine.
Silvana reaches into her desk and produces a small lock of hair tied with a gold wire on a fine gold chain. "However, I may have stumbled onto a way. Recently, one of my servants who was aiding me in my search for the island, a simpering dog of a man named Heskin, betrayed me and allied himself with a priest of Norgorber named Darl Quethos, who like his god, is obsessed with secrets and looting the knowledge stored in the library on the island. However, I was able to procure a sample of Heskin's hair from his barber and I believe we can use it to scry on him and learn what Darl is up to at this moment."
Silvana finishes her wine and if the party agrees, begins casting the scrying spell.
"Sounds logical...we must remove the general first and since Dragotha is a lich, we must destroy the phylactery first. I am on board as well with ridding the world of this undead dragon."
"I am all for the removal of this abomination, but the Magister is correct. This is no easy task, indeed. Imagine the power, strength, and guile of a massive red dragon, then add on the resistances, magical prowess, and ageless patience of a lich. That's what we're looking at with this Dragotha creature."
Despite talking about an apocalypse scenario and one of the most dangerous beings on this plane or others, Pele seems nonplussed and in his element. He pulls a couple of wine bottles and several jars of elven delicacies out of his pack, setting them down on the table.
"I've always been taught it was rude to come empty-handed, so enjoy, please. These are a recent, but quite delicious honey-wine. I would recommend slightly chilled, but to each their own." Pele opens the first bottle, a gracefully blown golden glass with a simple elven script label, and pours out a glass.
"And these are a selection of baked goods, made this morning back in Kyonin. They are a common enough elven breakfast buscuit, and they pair quite well with this sweet honey-wine."
"So, on to the scrying, then?"
Hearing the words of Honey wine and elven breakfast biscuits Flizzibus raises his head to look at the colour and takes a deep breath to savor the smell.
But then he stops and suddenly deadly serious he speaks up.
"A dragon, and not anyone but a great old wyrm and even worse a red one. This means he will have magic up on his sleeves and jaws claws and a bad attitude on top. Regulary. Then bolstered by undeath. Wich is also a curse for him. This makes is a bit easier for me to fight him.
Put at the moment we are very, very unequipped to fight such a foe. Please do not misunderstand me, but.. I do not know you all.
Gideon, do you remember our fight again this wraithlord of Illmarsh? We lost good people, friends and I knew each of those like my brother.
And I do really am no expert on those beasts, well I usually am directed to attack the enemy and take care it is occupied. I will need more information."
It is clear that the gnome is indeed serious and shows caution and it shows why he reached such an advanced age, for a paladin.
"The dracolich is not our immediate concern, then. Finding the library and source of his phylactery is the priority." Gideon agrees. "Those items are shielded from scrying."
"Flizzibus is correct. We need to gather as much as we can. But, this is not outside of our ability at all. Each of us has gained much skill and talents in our time, and never forget that Sarenrae's blessings will be with us."
He will take a sip of the offered wine and a nibble of bread. "So." he concludes. "Which of us shall perform the scrying?"
"That is not one of my spells, so I will defer to you, Master Gideon, or the good Magister. I trust your skill will prove sufficient."
Silvana smiles at Pele's nonchalant attitude in serving pastries and wine. "I am glad you all agree that Dragotha must be dealt with. The gnome is quite wise. The more information we can learn the better. I can perform the scrying, Gideon and Pele. Let us see what we can learn." Silvana draws a scroll from her desk and skillfully casts Greater Scrying as she focuses her energies on the strand of hair contained in the locket.
A tumultuous scene fades into view in the middle of the room for all to observe, along with the howling sound of an oceanic tempest. The image clears to show a deathly pale man lashed to a ship’s mast with several coils of rope. Although details beyond a ten-foot-radius around Heskin are hazy and unclear, it’s obvious that the ship is caught in a tremendous storm—the decks are awash in foamy water as both waves and driving sheets of rain torment the terrified man. Sounds of gruff sailors shouting commands and curses in Orc can be heard under the raging tumult of the storm, and now and then, frantic orc sailors move quickly into view and then back into obscurity as they busy themselves at securing the ship.
At one point, two lithe, cloaked figures drop to the deck from the rigging on either side of Heskin. They are identically dressed in tightly wrapped silken scarves, small devilish horns sprouting from their heads. The cloaked figures spare condescending glances at Heskin, their eyes glowing faintly with infernal fire before they move out of sight toward the ship’s unseen bow.
Soon thereafter, a large blazing red-skinned humanoid with an immense, bulging frame strides almost casually through the scene. The rain sizzles into steam as it strikes his burning skin. As he reaches Heskin, he looks down at the man and then looks toward the bow, crying out, “Master Darl! It looks like your pet might be taking on water!” With that, the creature explodes into a tremendous belly laugh.
A few moments later, another two figures step into view. The smaller of the two is a shifty eyed humanoid bird who wears a hooded cloak and carries a repeating crossbow. The other is a man in robes trimmed with eye designs. His cowl protects his face from the wind and his hands are obscured by long, rain soaked sleeves. He squats before Heskin and speaks to him in a low voice, “Only a few hours more before we reach Tilagos and we shall see if you live or die.” Suddenly, the man’s head whips around to look directly into the scrying sensor.
His face twists into a snarl as he stands. “It seems we have guests, my friends,” he says. “Perhaps allies of this cur?” He turns back to the bound man, and as he does he pulls back his left sleeve, revealing a rotten, black-nailed appendage that seems to writhe and twitch with its own life. “We can’t have your friends watching us, so it seems your journey comes to an early end, Heskin!” The putrid hand unfurls and reaches out to caress Heskin’s brow. Heskin shrieks in mortal pain as the fingertip freezes the skin it touches into an angry black scar. then makes a fist and utters a single unintelligible word. As he utters the word, Hesken’s eyes bulge, the cords in his neck throb, and he slumps against his bonds, dead. The scrying link is broken and the image fades from view.
"Interesting. The two twins are tieflings, a kind of native outsider commonly resulting from demonic or infernal dalliances in a family line. The large fellow with the russet skin, that's a genie, an efreeti in particular. They're quite bombastic, mercurial, and powerful; powerful foes if not restricted by some sort of genie covenant or binding."
Pele clears his throat and seems more than a bit perturbed as he continues.
"I have no idea how this man came by it, but I am sure that blackened hand-thing is the Hand of Tar Baphon. An evil and incredibly powerful artifact of the Whispering Tyrant, that might explain why orcs are involved. It may also explain how and why such powerful undead creatures are in play."
Finishing his goblet of honey wine, Pele pours another and ponders the facts known thus far.
Rothgar tried one of Pele's pastries and quite enjoyed it, thanking the elf for his forethought.
During the scrying, Rothgar took note of the lithe tiefling twins. "It appears Darl has his own crew - the genie, the twin infernals, and the bird-looking fellow, and maybe more. Looks like we will have competition on Tilagos should we get there so we should watch our back. And Darl has a big head start on us and he knows we may be coming. We should prepare. Spectacular achievement is always preceded by unspectacular preparation."
For a second, Silvana seems perturbed that her scrying was discovered. She quickly recovers, however. "Pele is correct about the Hand. That was a Blasphemy effect that just killed Heskin. It appears that Darl and his band are interested in Tilagos as well. Rothgar is also correct. They have a head start on you. Please make haste in your journey to Tilagos. What say ye?"
"Well, that hand alone means I will join forces and ride for justice!"
"Indeed. The hand means trouble, no matter where it goes. It must be captured and contained if not destroyed." Gideon agrees.
"I can only Plane shift us once, unless we have a night to prepare and pray. I cannot guarantee the spell is strong enough to pierce through whatever hides the island away, however."
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"Is Tiagos on another plane? If so, we'll have to rely on your magic, Gideon. If it's here on the Material, I can get us there easily enough. Assuming no warding or teleportation blocking effects, of course."
"I believe our hostess stated the island's interior has been whisked off the plane but the island still remains on the Material. Are we going now or in the morn after the spell casters have properly prepared?"
"Yes, the island itself is on the Prime Material Plane. As I stated before, the stories hint that the druids left a way for those in need to reach their secrets. And I believe that way is on the island. However, there are definitely wards in place to prevent direct teleportation onto the island, but there is always a way, right? If you wish to prepare your spells, knowing you may come into confrontation with Darl and his band, I can arrange for an inn to shelter you for the night, discretely of course. We do not want to draw attention to your presence in Corentyn. Kelgorn will escort you when you are ready to the Lucky Coin inn, if needed."
"Yes, it's probably prudent if we prepare slightly different spell loads. I have several fire based attack spells prepared, and those won't really work against the efreeti. The tieflings are more than likely resistant, as well."
Spells Prepared:
1st: magic missile, charm person, feather fall, grease, identify, mount, protection from evil, floating disk
2nd: see invisibility, web, extended feather fall, resist energy, extended shield (2), extended mage armor, scorching ray
3rd: extended see invisibility, extended resist energy, empowered magic missile, tiny hut, haste, fly, fireball
4th: arcane eye, wall of ice, extended greater magic weapon, extended tiny hut, extended haste, extended magic circle against evil, lesser globe of invulnerability
5th: teleport, wall of force, overland flight, extended wall of ice, empowered fireball, cone of cold
6th: extended wall of force, chain lightning (2), disintegrate, summon monster VI
7th: greater teleport (2), summon monster VII, mage’s sword
8th: clenched fist, summon monster VIII, empowered disintegrate
"I am confident I can get us aboard that vessel, at the least. Beyond that, we will be walking, and spirits only know how many defenses they will have in place."
Pele looks to Gideon thoughtfully.
"From the scrying image, that man's corpse looked fairly intact. If it is still there and in one piece, could you use that spell to speak with it, maybe gain some intelligence? Perhaps learn what it was they killed him to prevent him from telling?"
"Of course. Sarenrae willing. I will prepare an instance of that spell in case." Gideon answes Pele's request.
Cleric Spells Prepared (CL 15th; concentration +22)
. . 8th—discern location, sunburst[D] (DC 25)
. . 7th—holy word (2, DC 24), resurrection, sunbeam[D] (DC 24)
. . 6th—heal[D], heal (2), heroes' feast, undeath to death (DC 23)
. . 5th—breath of life (DC 22), cleanse[APG], greater command (DC 22), flame strike[D] (DC 22), life bubble[APG] (DC 22), true seeing
. . 4th—death ward, divine power, fire shield[D], holy smite (DC 21), lesser planar ally, restoration
. . 3rd—daylight[D], dispel magic, magic circle against evil, remove curse, searing light (2), speak with dead (DC 20)
. . 2nd—bull's strength, consecrate, remove disease[D], resist energy, lesser restoration, silence (DC 19), spiritual weapon
. . 1st—bless, command (DC 18), deathwatch (2), endure elements[D], sanctuary (DC 18), shield of faith
. . 0 (at will)—create water, detect magic, guidance, read magic
. . D Domain spell; Domains Sun (Day subdomain), Healing (Restoration subdomain)
Morning comes and with the party prepared with its spells, you meet at Silvana’s estate, where Kelgorn meets with you. ”The Mistress is sorry she cannot meet with you, but she had to tend to some local government matters. She asked me to convey her best wishes and to report back to her when you have news regarding the…” Kelgorn pauses and whispers, ”item in question.” He then serves you breakfast on the first floor of the manor, unless you already ate (perhaps partook of Heroes’ Feast?).
"Of course, Kelgorn. It is to be expected when one is a public personage, after all. Shall we away, then, gents? Off to save the world?"
Pele casts his standard long-term spells before the party leaves.
"I am ready, Pele, but since we may arrive above water..."
Right before the party teleports, Rothgar takes out his Wand of Fly and using his UMD skill, casts it on himself.
"Before we leave, this blessed meal will shore up our resolve and grant us strength for the journey ahead."
Every creature partaking of the feast is cured of all sickness and nausea, receives the benefits of both neutralize poison and remove disease, and gains 1d8 temporary hit points + 1 point per two caster levels (maximum +10) after imbibing the nectar-like beverage that is part of the feast. The ambrosial food grants each creature that partakes a +1 morale bonus on attack rolls and Will saves and a +4 morale bonus on saving throws against poison and fear effects for 12 hours.
Teleport Percentile
Once everyone has prepared spells, had a delicious meal, and cast any prepartory spells on themselves, Pele gathers the group together.
"I am sure you have all teleported before yesterday, and I trust you will not suffer from any ill effects. We don't know what we're walking into, so be on guard. I can bring us all, including your trusty retriever, Ser Flizzibus, if you so choose. Put your hand on mine, and we will begin our task of saving the world."
Bow strung and gear positioned where it lies in easy grasp, Pele casts teleport to bring the group to the deck of the ship they saw in the scrying.