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Hasshin claws at the zombie twice but hits only once. Callan shows the bomber how to touch foes and gives him a nasty slash. Jiggo rushes forward without incident to bless his friends' weapon. Io steps boldly into the room and flanks the zombie, but with his companion's help, the zombie is shattered into very very small pieces. Amarandlon fires an arrow at the alchemist but it gets loose as the wizard concentrates on not hitting a friend.
The alchemist curses loudly as his zombie is diced and sliced. He quickly prepares another flask and throws it towards Callan, triggering a attack of opportunity.
for
The Laboratory - Round 3 - Fight!
Callan [15/28] + AoO + fort save, Hasshin, Io, Kradvid, Amarandlon, Jiggo + ref save
S [15]
Kradvid flies over to join in the action, hovering above the alchemist.
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Io looks around the room for additional clues as to what this man was doing down here.
"Ah dornt think thes is a spellbook necromancer. He's playin' wi' th' corpses wi' his chemicals," Io observes as he looks at the beakers, vats, and vials.
"But th' fact 'at we foond a live man whaur thaur shoods be only dead makes me think we foond uir culprit."
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When you end up searching the array of notes among the lab tables and peruse through the small library of books, you will find that this alchemist is Svilennius Tripe - an excommunicated priest of Pharasma. Several years ago, he discovered some ancient tomes detailing the alchemical process of reanimating the dead - something that is anathema to the church of Pharasma. He presented this information to the heads of the church and they kicked him out.
He found his way back into the ossuary and began stealing bodies to use in his experiments, in the hopes of creating an undead army and taking over the city. (Can you say delusions of grandeur?)
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Jiggo shudders. "But why would you-" Jiggo looks away in disgust. "They were right to banish him, but they should have destroyed or at least sealed these documents away so he couldn't use them."
Jiggo brightens up. "At least we got him, though. The people here can rest in peace. Should we return to the temple, or continue searching? Maybe there are more of his reanimated cretins running around. We should put them to rest before we return."
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"Thank you for the healing, Jiggs. I don't know about you lot, but the opportunity to line my coin-purse off of the backs of forgotten treasure in the bowels of an ancient crypt is one that can not be passed. And as our ginger-headed war-priest has suggested, should we not clear these reanimated vermin that are sure to be roaming these crypts?"
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"Oh, bah," Amarandlon says in disgust, eyeing the corpse. "Damnable alchemists. I always forget that they exist--why anyone would want to get halfway to real magic and stop is beyond me...and the drivel they call 'formulae' are worse than useless." He sniffs, kicking the body idly in frustration as he passes by.
"Regardless, I have no objection to continuing to explore this pit if the rest of you wish to do so. I still hope to find some object of notable magical interest."
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Once you go up the same way you came, you report your success to The High Priestess of Pharasma who really is thankful for your help. She orders other pharasmin priests to finish to clear the level so it could be restored to what it has to be: a place of peace and rest for the dead and a place of recollection and meditation for the living.
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In the middle of the night, you are summoned to the Grand Lodge. It is abuzz with rumors of something monumental happening in Oppara. In the formal briefing, you are informed that transport has been arranged and the team of agents is being sent to the Oppara Lodge.
A swift boat ride, a quick trip through Taldor’s gilded capital, and a coded knock at the front door lead to the unassuming, windowless Pathfinder Society lodge masquerading as a bait and tackle shop called Rods and Reels. The strong smell of old fish permeates the dwelling, which has somewhat of a ill cared-for, haphazard
appearance. The light of a single, whale-oil lantern forms strange shadows on the floor among the nets and buckets that fill the lodge’s ground floor.
The middle-aged venture-captain who runs the lodge — a ruddy-skinned and pockmark-faced man named Muesello — emerges from the narrow spiral stairs to the lodge’s second floor and speaks up to you.
"Thank you for coming on such short notice, Pathfinders. Let me bring you all up to speed. It seems that I may have gotten myself, and by extension the Society, into a bit of hot water. You see, lately the Taldan government has been growing particularly protective of what it considers its national treasures. Grand Prince Stavian seems to have taken a personal interest in anything older than last week’s fish stew, imposing heavy tariffs on any antiquities being sent out of the country."
The grey-haired man lets out a deep sigh and his shoulders slump.
"This is where my own idiocy comes in. I thought that I could save the Society a few pieces of gold by smuggling items out of the city, using my contacts in a secret cult of local Sarenites known as the Dawnflower Blossoms. They receive significant support from people in Qadira, and oversee regular shipments to and from Katheer."
"Everything went very smoothly until last night. A group of local guards known as the Porthmos Militia conducted a violent raid on one of the cult’s safe houses here in the neighborhood of Westport. A man named Chalfon Dalsine, a minor noble who was himself nearly a Pathfinder in his youth, led the attack. This gang slaughtered half the members of the cult, even those who didn’t fight back—it was horrible. A few members were able to escape, but the rest were either slain or captured and dragged away for interrogation."
Muesello goes on to explain that while the deaths were tragic, his primary concern is that he had given the Sarenites several parcels for transport just last week. The parcels included a number of notes written in a personal cypher, but anything involving codes eventually makes its way to the Lion Blades, the secret spies of the Taldan government. It’s only a matter of time before they crack
the code or use some divination magic to track him down.
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Jiggo's reward involved a beautiful cloak, blue and gray with the silvery symbol of Erastil on the back. The head priest said it was a gift for his hard work, and said the cloak would protect him from harm.
The Pathfinder Society was glad for his efforts, and suggested he moves out to new regions, to see different cultures and how towns outside. When he heard most of his adventure buddies were going to Taldor on a secret mission he leapt at the chance to join.
"So much secrecy." Jiggo mumbled as he jumped from one smuggling ship to the next. "If these places were more open, there would be no trouble in traveling."
"I could go for some fish stew, though." Jiggo mumbles as the party reaches Rods and Reels. Jiggo shakes hands with Muesello. "Thanks for having us here. So, how can we help?"
After hearing the terrible state of affairs, all Jiggo can do is shake his head. "That's so terrible. Why would anyone do that? Just because of their religion?"
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With Io Hammerhand having been assigned a different mission, the Pathfinders are joined by his replacement, a tall, lean half-elf named Erevan Stormstride. He wears his platinum blonde hair long, and it loosely frames his face. His hand, which bears a rough brand, rests on his sword pommel.
He wears no armor, symbol of deity, or implements of magic-use. Instead, he is dressed in the fine, flashy garb of a noble. Aside from a pack resting nearby, his only possession seems to be a finely-crafted blade. This sword appears to be a bit over three feet long and very slightly curved. It is not the blade of a brute, but of a duelist. The half-elf's long limbs and agile build seem well-suited to be a swordsman.
When he speaks, it is with a tone full of hubris.
"I'll retrieve the packages for you. With my blade, this will prove a simple task."
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The Half-Orc eyes the newcomer suspiciously, having grown accustomed to combat with Io the dwarf. He musters enough manners to at least curtly nod and acknowledge the existence of the Half-Elf. Maybe their shared muddy bloodlines will allow them to find common ground... maybe.
The barbarian then turns to Muesello and says, "We all naturally want to become successful... we also want to take shortcuts. And it's easy to do so, but you can never take away the effort of hard work, discipline and sacrifice."
The huge warrior finishes in his distinctive deep baritone,
"Where can we find this Chalfon Dalsine, and where might we find the remnants of the Dawnflower Blossoms."
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Amarandlon, too, eyes the newcomer uneasily. Ugh. I shudder to think what sort of horrible events resulted in THIS mixing of bloods.
Aloud, he says, "You're quite right, of course, sir--your loss of this chance is shameful, but more importantly, dangerous. I think it's best if you get out of Oppara with all speed. Unless, that is, there is some way you think we can salvage the situation."
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Muesello nods to all of you and continues his explanation.
"The Society is in a very delicate place at the moment, especially here in Taldor. The upheavals caused by the Shadow Lodge have only made things worse. If the government tracks those packages back to me, they might formally expel all Pathfinders from the country! Now what I need you to do is..."
A loud knock on the shop’s front door interrupts the venture-captain mid-sentence. A strong voice calls out from the other side, "Open this door! This is the Porthmos Militia. Open this door in the name of the Grand Prince!"
Muesello's eyes widen in horror and fear as the pounding on the door increases in volume and an annoyed voice calls out again. "We don’t want to break the door down, old man. Hurry up!"
"Yes, yes, I heard you. Hold on, I’ve got to find a candle."
Muesello turns back and whispers once more, "I’ll hold them off as best I can. Please get the cult members out of here, or they’re all as good as dead, and please don’t try to kill the guards! This is a large group of serious guards who obviously mean business. Any lethal attacks or, gods forefend, a death could spell doom for the Society! These are city guards acting on the authority of the Grand Prince himself!"
Hasshin, Jiggo, Calan, Amarandlon, Erevan
Town Guards
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"Don't try to kill the guards," Amarandlon chuckles. "I don't know why you humans are always so touchy about stuff like that. My friends and I in the academy at Kyonin used to joke: 'What's the difference between a live human and a dead one?' 'Just a few decades--blink and you'll miss it!'" The elf throws back his head and let's out a peal of clear, bell-like laughter. Then, noting the silence around him, he mutters, "Guess you had to be there."
To Muesello, he asks, "Is there a window upstairs or somewhere else that I would have a clear view of the guards from? I may be able to slow or befuddle their simple minds, but I need to be able to see them."
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"I will cause a distraction, get everyone out of the back of the shop! I will meet you at the pub down the street in one half of the hour, otherwise you may need to come bail me out of jail! Swift like the wind now..."
With that the giant Half-Orc, and former gladiator, bursts out of the establishment and begins to put on a show, bellowing,
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With your successful help, the dawnflower blossoms accelerate a lot. Either with verbally encouraging them or helping them down the steps or the ladder into the basement, you see that the halflings appreciate a lot your help.
Seeing Amarandlon coming to help, Muesello is happy. You sense he really didn't expect this. Before you head towards any window, he whispers to you "You could stall verbally the guards... or, or you could block the door... It's useless to watch them, that won't delay them forcing the door!"
Amarandlon, [Hasshin , Jiggo, Calan, Erevan]
Town Guards and [Dawnflower Blossoms]
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Amarandlon gets upstairs as well and begins to chant arcane words, looking through the window. The dawnflower blossoms begin to make way down the stairs as quickly as they can.
You hear a gruff voice outside the door that shouts "What's all about this noise? And did I hear people speaking?"
In response, you hear the startled voice of Muesello that answers "No, no... I'm fumbling to find the keys in this darkness and I tossed some items to the floor!"
VS
[Amarandlon (begins casting)], [Hasshin , Jiggo, Calan, Erevan]
Muesello, Town Guards and [Dawnflower Blossoms]
Evacuation: 3 rounds left.
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The same voice echoes loudly into the small lodge.
"Are you kidding me, old man? I think you're just telling me lies! Guards, open the door and break it down if you have to!" You sense that the captain of the guard is almost eager to order this. At this very moment, Amarandlon finishes his incantation and you hear the gruff voice shout once again "What is this sorcery? A trap?"
And you hear the sound of a horn echoing in the streets of Oppara.
Three guards fell asleep and there is one guard and the captain left. They are dragging the three bodies far from the house, the horn is the captain's.
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The people you have saved are part of a group of Sarenites consisting of both Opparan natives and foreigners. Because of the goddess’s close association with the nation of Qadira — Taldor’s most hated enemy — her worship has been outlawed in this country for two centuries. Despite this, her faithful exist throughout the old empire, generally organized into small, independent, and highly secretive cults.
This particular group calls itself the Dawnflower Blossoms, believing that they are but a bud of the mighty flower of faithful that will soon grow in Taldor’s heart. Ten refugees travel with you: five human women (Charito, Ionnia, Nellina, Pasara, and Xene), two halfling women (Piria and Sophone), and three human men (Marcian, Narces, and Theodric).
The worship of Sarenrae has been illegal in Taldor since the Great Purge of 4528 ar. The degree to which her followers are persecuted has waxed and waned over the last 200 years.
Sarenrae worship is much more common outside of Taldor’s major urban centers (Cassomir and Oppara), and away from the xenophobic southern border region (which includes the city of Zimar).
The brutality of the recent raid on the Dawnflower Blossoms does not reflect the current government’s attitude toward Sarenites within Taldor’s borders. It is more likely to be the result of a single, ultra-patriotic zealot.
Worship of Sarenrae was once quite popular in Taldor, although never as central to national identity as the veneration of Aroden. Numerous large Sarenite temples and cathedrals once existed throughout the empire, one of which was built of gold-plated bricks, rumors say.
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The catacombs of Oppara are a mix of ancient sewer lines, natural caves, and old city streets and buildings buried centuries or even millennia ago. The ground beneath the city is literally honeycombed
by countless tunnels and chambers. The catacombs have been used throughout Oppara’s history as a meeting place for secret organizations.
Oppara was supposedly founded over 6,000 years ago by the last descendants of ancient Azlant, and its catacombs are said to contain a few deep ruins dating back to this time.
Countless entrances into the catacombs once existed from the surface. Most were destroyed or bricked up centuries ago, following a nasty torble infestation that was believed to have originated in the catacombs.
Although Oppara’s catacombs are extensive, the areas used today are relatively close to the surface. Most of the oldest areas have been underwater for millennia.