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The witch smiles, all of her teeth bared at Farg. Her red-tinged brown eyes fixate on Farg's tusks.
"It is good to meet you. You shall suffice. If you do not, well, tusks make a most excellent material for athames," She Who Wait says before turning her attention to the Venture Captain.
"Dreng, what can you tell me about the history of that temple? It seems... convenient that it would be located and available in such a place. After the last go around, I'm sure this "accident" is not one at all."
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"Finally, a chance to avenge Gunnar!" Torean bellows from the side. The dwarf looks largely the same as thelast many of your saw him. He carries a warhammer on his belt, but strapped to his back seems to be a different axe than what he used to hack the undead limbs last time. This one seems quite well crafted.
"Torag's strength will help us cut through whatever undead they'll try to throw our way until we find the person responsible for that whole mess in Oppara."
He turns to the new tiefling when he disparages Gunnar's memory. "You, shut you mouth, Farg. You don't know what it was like in there and what happen to Gunnar. We weren't kin, but a Hammer of Torag always watches over dwarves. I hope you like to kill zombies. Last time there was a raging undead dinosaur..."
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As Torean barrels into the room and fills it with his booming voice and large personality, Eladrian steps forward and clasps forearms with the dwarf. "Good to see you back! Should we take this.. man-thing.. and feed him to the zombies first, or would that just give them indigestion and make poor sport for us?"
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A slight man dressed in Taldan finery stands at the back of the room, clearing his throat at the blossoming argument. He proclaims: It is my pleasure to introduce Lord Rolando Pascal, of Taldor.
Upon his pronouncement, another Taldan enters the room. He wears well-made, well-polished armor and carries a flag bearing the sigil of the Glyph of the Open Road.
Yes Miguel, they all know who I am. That'll be all. Wait in the hall--I may have a task for you before we depart.
The flag-bearer approaches Farg and sizes him up, smiling and extending his hand in greeting.
Gunnar was brave and laid his life down for the rest of us--he now drinks and feasts with his honored ancestors. If the Decemvirate has deemed you worthy to try to fill his shoes, then I will respect your skills sight unseen. I trust you will not disappoint in this regard.
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Farg raises an eyebrow at the mention of undead dinosaurs a slight hint of self doubt chasing over his face.
Well I have yet to meet a Pathfinder who was disappointed with Farg! the large Tiefling proclaims with a big toothy grin seemingly reassured of his self confidence.
However admittedly slaying the undead isn't exactly my cup of tea... however there was this one time I had to deal with an undead chicken! As you'd guess I prevailed bravely! So I say we head into this expedition for Gunnar the Dwarf!
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Dreng gives the witch an empty look. "I don't know anything about the place. That's part of why your are sent there."
"If you're ready, now, go. And don't waste time."
After a hurried early morning rush to gather supplies in Absalom, several days in the blustery Inner Sea, and another spent weaving through the bureaucracy of the Taldan customs rituals, you find yourself walking through a chilly, early morning rain storm and approaching what the vagabond locals say is the location of the burned-out temple to Sarenrae.
Rain patters down in sheets over the scorched skeleton of a once majestic temple. Walls of thick, blackened masonry stand tall and abandoned, with gaping wounds revealing where stained glass windows once caught the morning sun. The roof has collapsed and most of its remnants are long gone. Only large, immovable remnants of the crumbling masonry remain in the rubble piles scattered throughout the ruin.
All that remains inside this ruin are rocks and chunks of wood either too worn down and ruined to be of use or too heavy to carry away. There are signs that this place has been used in the past for shelter, but it has since completely collapsed, and most of the residents of the vagabond camp seem to give it wide berth. Two sets of ruined stairs in the temples south wall lead up to a once proud pulpit. At the back of the pulpit, an enormous stone lid, several hundred pounds in weight, has been pulled off a set of stairs leading down into darkness.
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Eladrian closely examines the exterior of the building before moving into the wreckage. "I don't think that we can hope our job is completed.. We should be on guard. I really do not want to run into another overgrown reaninimated dinosaur!" He moves towards the middle, keeping his head swiveling as he moves towards the remains of the pulpit.
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I will lead the way! Farg proclaims now more matter of factly.
Before I joined the Society I made a name of myself in exploring long forgotten tombs! The tiefling then digs in his pockets and produces a small vial filled with white powder he takes a deep sniff and seems to grow further in confidence.
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As you begin to investigate, you suddenly hear loud shouts and eventually see a familiar figure standing on the stony dais in the back of the ruins. It's Hustavan! However, Magistros Sebastus Hustavan is currently being menaced by a pack of wild dogs. Hustavan is well over 6 feet tall, shockingly thin, and quite old. His head is balding and fringed by frizzled gray hair. His chin and cheeks are covered in several weeks’ worth of beard growth, the gray hairs standing out against his pale, leathery skin. He wears long white robes, muddy, torn, and ragged, and wears what looks to be a blue sash tied around his waist as a belt. The dogs are mangy, dirty things that wander the fringes of the vagabond camp in search of food or easy prey.
The magistros is wielding a long piece of wet, rotting wood and is just barely keeping the dogs at bay. As you enter the temple ruins, the dogs abandon Hustavan to his perch and attack you!
He yells at you once he sees the party "Please don’t let these hell spawn kill me! I was important once! I was somebody! HELP!" and he eventually recognize Rolando and shouts, sobbing, "Kill them, m'lord! PLEEEEEEEASE!"
Rolando, Farg, Torean, Eladrian, She Who Waits, Vordrek
DW
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Take cover, we'll draw them away! Rolando says to the magistrate before singing a mournful dirge.
Weapons that are already magical gain flaming and frost. Non magical weapons gain a +1 bonus and flaming.
Lesser Spirit Totem--each person can make an attack on the turn against an adjacent enemy. Attack bonus is your BAB + 3 and damage is 1d4 + 3.
Lesser Celestial Blood--everyone's melee weapons are considered good-aligned for the purpose of bypassing damage reduction. Also, everyone's melee weapons deal an additional 1d6 damage vs evil outsiders.
Superstition-- +3 morale bonus to saves vs spells, SLAs, and SUs
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You will set out for there at once—there is a ship waiting—and meet a man named Sebastus Hustavan outside the burned-out temple. Once a man of great importance, he seems to have fallen on hard times—fallen so far as to join those Zyphus fiends. But he’s redeemed himself by telling us their location! Find Hustavan — it can’t be hard, there’s only one burned-out temple to Sarenrae in the vagabond camp (...)
She Who Waits begins to fly up in the air as Farg comes forward and gives a nasty slash at one of the wolves. Rolando starts to sing and Eladrian fires two arrows that hit their target. Torean moves forward.
She Who Waits recognizes the beasts being Dire wolves.
DW (blue @19, green @16)
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Vordrek chants some arcane words and three missiles of pure force spring forward from his fingers.
The Dire Wolves come forward and attack those in front of them!
Two hit their opponents and while Farg resists the fangs of the direwolves, Eladrian falls prone.
for
for
Rolando, Farg [37/48], Torean, Eladrian [48/55], She Who Waits, Vordrek
DW (blue @25, green @21, red @3)
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Rolando drags Eladrian to safety, all the while his song echoing off the ruins. He then starts moving around to flank the wolf.
Flagbearer: +1 morale bonus to attack, weapon damage, and saves vs fear and charm (doesn't stack with heroism).
Weapons that are already magical gain flaming and frost. Non magical weapons gain a +1 bonus and flaming.
Lesser Spirit Totem--each person can make an attack on the turn against an adjacent enemy. Attack bonus is your BAB + 3 and damage is 1d4 + 3.
Lesser Celestial Blood--everyone's melee weapons are considered good-aligned for the purpose of bypassing damage reduction. Also, everyone's melee weapons deal an additional 1d6 damage vs evil outsiders.
Superstition-- +3 morale bonus to saves vs spells, SLAs, and SUs
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Seeing the relatively docile creatures surrounding the man, She Who Waits pulls out a bone wand and yells ouot, "Eat this!"
A single bolt of force flies out.
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Thanks to the bardic performance, you crush the two remaining direwolves!
As the sound of combat fades, you hear only a sound of sobbing and you find Hustavan in a corner of the temple's ruins, sobbing on his knees. The man seems to be a broken shell of his once proud and arrogant self you encountered in the opera. He grabs Rolando's cloak and begs for his life.
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Eladrian moves through the rubble to the cowering man, keeping his bow up and his eyes scanning the area. When he reaches the man, he gives him a hand up before looking him square in the eye and saying "How fast we fall, eh My Lord? What can you tell me of this cult and what is going on around here?"
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What happened, Magistros? How did those fiends manage to convince you to join them? Here, Rolando says, taking off his bracers. As he does his finery reveals itself to be the simple clothes of a traveling minstrel.
Put these on and envision what you wish your garments to appear as, and it will be so. Sometimes the clothes make the man, right? You are safe with us, just as I told you in Oppara.
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Looking up after Eladrian's words and Rolando's offer he takes the sleeves and put them up. He seems glad to have "brand new clothes" but he still looks completely broken.
"I... I made terrible mistakes. I fell so far out of favor of the empire in the aftermath of the cult’s assault on the Immortal Son and my rescue by you, that I eventually enlisted in the remnants of the Zyphus cult’s faithful just to survive. I am a worm! I... I don't deserve to live! Then this terribly powerful cleric of Zyphus appeared and all he wanted was just... revenge! He sent us Baillaset!"
As he pronounces the name, his eyes widen and fill with tears, as he breaks into a powerful and uncontrollable sob once again.
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Rolando frowns momentarily at the others before again extending a hand to the disgraced nobleman.
On your feet and hold yourself together! You still have your life, and your wits. If you are unhappy with your lot in life, then change it! Stand with us, lead us to the cult, and we will stamp them out. You can restore your honor and continue your life without fear of retribution from these monsters. Come, up now! Rolando's voice is optimistic, but commanding.
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Hearing Rolando's pep talk, he manages to climb to his feet and tries to regain a little bit of composure.
"When Baillaset arrived, he set the cultists loose on one another. And that's why I chose to turn to the Pathfinders for help, as I remembered your greatness. Especially of Sir Rolando here."
He pauses and looks at She Who Waits, trying to form the next sentence in his mind.
"Baillaset... was sent by Zyphus himself! It's a monster, a ragged dead thing with skin like blood and eyes like fire! What I can say to you is that the cultists were building traps and killing each other when I left one week ago."
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"Well. That's some good news. Fewer for us to have to kill..." Eladrian quips with a grim smile.
-Posted with Wayfinder
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Torean rolls his eyes and says quietly. You are a worm. Yer certainly no dwarf."
He glances at Farg as the demon-child joins him. "Eh, don't waste your effort. Eating him would likely be worse for you."
I've actually never eaten anyone... Farg admits to Torean. As the discussion turn to what the weakling could contribute Farg turns on his heel shooots a murderous stare with his blood red eyes and adds to she who waits.
And point out those traps...