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A stoic, mild-mannered gnome with a youthful face approaches. His hair is so starkly white that you'd be forgiven for thinking that he is suffering from the Bleaching.
He introduces himself simply.
Hello! I'm Arin, a healer. I'm not a formal priest or cleric, as you might call it, and I'm still searching out the source of my divine mark. My abilities are effective none-the-less.
While his tone is pleasant enough you notice his face never shows any signs of emotion.
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"Nigel! Over this way! Come join us!" a rich, booming voice calls out from nearby. A tall, well built aasimar then steps out from the crowd to stand near the outcropping, while waving back toward someone behind him.
His perfect angelic features, flowing blonde hair, and broad shoulders would normally be enough to make him quite attractive, but the golden flecks of color in his skin sparkle in the torch light and make him a truly eye-catching sight. His physical beauty stands in stark contrast to two other visual elements of this man. One is how scarred, battered and beaten up his breastplate is. And the other is the crisscross pattern of dozens of scars that trace themselves across both arms and continue up under the sleeves of his tunic.
"Greetings, friends!" he begins. "I am Zarnel, holy paladin of my Lady goddess Vildeis. It's an honor to meet each of you."
Although friendly and pleasant, he has a solemnity about him that makes it clear that he's not just some pretty party-boy.
When Nigel arrives, Zarnel greets the gnome enthusiastically and asks how he's been since their last adventure together.
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Zarnel and Nigel's reunion is interrupted by an intermittent series of unsettling sounds from down the way, getting louder as they get closer: The shrieking of impossibly-sharp metal upon stone. The banter of the workaday world also seems to pause in its wake, like the auditory equivalent of a lone shark displacing shoals of fish as it swims through.
Eventually, the source reveals itself: A bizarre and unnerving...figure, its sex is impossible to be certain of, for its marble skin and sinuous muscles are mostly concealed by a beautiful, strangely-cut kimono, long silk gloves over spidery hands, and a stunning metal-and-cloth mask that reveals only a long shock of black, turquoise-tinged hair and the creature's almond-shaped eyes, cold and white like a pair of distant stars. At one sides it carries a pair of compact hexagonal grimoires and a veritable sheaf of wands, and at the other it carries the source of the noise: A massive black sword that looks all by itself like something out of some dark legend.
It approaches with an entirely unnatural gait that consists of lurching, shuffling, and skittering, spastic twitching, and...hopping???...before greeting you with a stiff Tien-style bow and speaking with a voice like a languid sandstorm blowing across some cold, dead, distant worldscape:
"I am Xukong."
A voice carries out clearly over the noise of all the Pathfinders gathered in the Great Cathedral. The talk soon dies away, leaving you to hear the announcement. ”Greetings, intrepid Pathfinders! I, Master of Scrolls Kreighton Shaine, welcome you to the long-lost Sky Citadel of Jormurdun! For the upcoming operation I recommend you work in small teams, so speak with your comrades here, find a place, and check to make sure you have all your gear. I will brief you all momentarily.”
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To recall knowledge about dwarven sky citadels:
To recall rumors about the upcoming mission:
the city.
To recall information about the demons that inhabit the Worldwound:
To recall details about the deities of the dwarves:
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Shaine, that old kook. He's always sending us on the craziest missions. It's never straightforward for him. Katcho reflexively shivers. This tengu stands a moderate height with studded leather protecting a feathered body. A set of daggers decorate his belt, probably some hidden in his feathers there too.
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As Zarnel calls out to Nigel, he realizes that he must of confused the gnome with another gnome. The unknown gnome shoots a confused look as he flows into his own group.
Upon hearing the shouting for Nigel, an halfling caring an ornate staff wonders over. I know that Nigel was signed up to join you all, but it turns out demons are tricky and are taking him longer to deal with than expected. He asked me to come in his stead. I am Enora, expert of magics and artifacts. This job seems more up my ally than that grumpy gnome anyway! She smiles at the group.
It is clear that this a level of intimidation from Xukong as she is unable to maintain eye contact for long.
Hmm... I should of studies up a bit before coming here. Never been to one of these sky citadels before. I do know there are massive fortress-cities the dwarves built millennia ago. Each one is heavily fortified and can weather the mightiest assaults. The most prevalent language in a sky citadel is likely Dwarven, so an explorer would do well to have at least some means of translating text.
After gathering some information, Enora comes back to the group with some fresh news she gathered. Although Master of Swords Marcos Farabellus led the military portion of this expedition, Master of Scrolls Kreighton Shaine is in charge of overseeing the actual exploration and study of the sky citadel. No one doubts the elf ’s intelligence and historical expertise, but there are some who question whether he has the ability to manage so large an operation.
Rumor has it that the Society wants to claim Jormurdun as much for its undisturbed archaeological value as for a powerful artifact supposedly buried inside the city. I don't blame them! I want to touch that artifact too...
Enora ponders the idea of demons for a moment. I have done a lot of things but demons are not my place of expertise... though I do know demons are powerful outsiders that often resist attacks made by anything but cold iron or good-aligned weapons.
Trying to recall what she can about the major religion of the area, Enora begins to spew a mouthful of facts. The chief god of the dwarves is Torag, god of the forge, protection, and strategy. Hard work and respect are core elements of his faith, and failure to maintain one’s tools is considered a sign of disrespect.
Family is very important in dwarven culture and religion, and most of the dwarven pantheon is part of Torag’s household. His wife, siblings, and children each direct another aspect of dwarven society such as oaths, warfare, cooperation, and strength.
The worship of Droskar—the god of toil, slavery and cheating—is frowned upon if not outright forbidden in a typical dwarven community. After catching Droskar copying the work of others and claiming it as his own, Torag cast him from the pantheon and cursed him.
With a deep breath, the halfling stops talking, ready to listen if she missed anything that someone else knows.
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A Garundi human stumbles in. A whip on his hip and protected by uncommon lamellar leather. He seems to be holding some sort of formula book as he looks up at the party.
Las Lajas pulls out his jade wayfinder and invokes it as he addresses some of the discussion happening around him.
"Did someone say something about the sky citadels?"
K. Dungeon (T10+8)=18
"I has some thoughts about the upcoming mission"
K Local (T10+8)=18
"Regarding the Worldwound, I've been there.."
"As to the dwarven gods..."
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Having been distracted by both Enora's and Xukong's appearances, Zarnel didn't even notice the awkward case of mistaken identity developing. He listens politely and with interest as his new teammates share their extensive knowledge. It's good to be working with such smart and professional adventurers. And this Xukong is quite unusual and... impressive.
"I grew up in the shadow of the Worldwound training from birth to join the Crusaders, and I didn't know that part about their teleportation abilities. Though perhaps they covered that after I... left." The pause in his speech at the end, and the way he looks away and downward betrays his shame at whatever happened to force him to abandon the Crusaders.
But then he smiles as Enora talks about the dwarves and reverently touches his scarred breastplate. "Aren't religions such strange things? Torag is displeased by a failure to maintain one's tools and weapons, while my lady Vildeis expects us to show our devotion through the scars that our armor and body carry. As long as we all oppose Evil, it's all the same in the end, I suppose."
To Katcho's question he replies, "No, friend, I don't have any cold iron either. And the only spare dagger I have is this one," he finishes, fingering a simple but nicely made dagger tucked into the small of his back. "But it's... special. I use it only for rituals when Vildeis demands that I atone." His hand leaves the dagger and gently caresses the scars upon his left forearm. "But do you happen to know anthing more than our well informed friends here?"
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Katcho latches on to the engagement from Zarnel. Ah, well. Yes, while the citadels were dwarven by construction, it appears the dwarves left Jormurdun willingly. In fact, from the state of the outer keep that leads into Jormurdun, it’s as though they were trying to keep something in as much as they were trying to keep someone else out.
”I require both silence and your attention, if you please! Once more, greetings. I am Kreighton Shaine, Master of Scrolls. It is my pleasure to welcome you to Jormurdun and thank you for the parts so many of you have played in getting us here today. The entirety of a dwarven sky citadel lies before us. It is our unique privilege to explore its halls and be the first to study its millennia-old treasures. If other sky citadels are any reference, Jormurdun is immense and would take a less ambitious expedition years to catalog appropriately. Of course, other expeditions are not deep in the Worldwound, so we do not have the privilege of taking our time. Every day spent here is another day that powerful demons might learn of us and attack. Study what you find, but also take care of any hazards you come across. I can only speculate at what kinds of defenses the former occupants left to protect their city.”
Suddenly, Kreighton looks with alarm to the ceiling of the room and shouts a warning.
”Calistria’s garters, I hate being right about these things. Prepare yourselves!”
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Dozens of ropes fall from the ceiling, dancing in the air until dark-eyed, gray-skinned dwarves, bald headed and bearded, slide down to their dangling ends. The invaders attack with malevolent roars.
Enora
duergar rogue (green)
duergar fighter (red)
Zarnel
Amerel
Xukong
Las Lajas
Arin
duergar cleric (yellow)
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The robed duergar grimaces at the loud shriek but it doesn't seem to have the full effect.
The martial-focused duergar rush into space to start to put a hurting on the Pathfinders. One sweeps around to flank Enora, the other walks up and takes a swipe with a warhammer.
A close miss!
Enora
duergar rogue (green)
duergar fighter (red)
Zarnel
Amerel
Xukong
Las Lajas
Arin
duergar cleric (yellow)
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You notice the little gnome's eyes begin to glow a sickly red, and you think you can barely see shimmers of the same color streaking through his stark white hair. He then begins to speak in a rough, guttural language in a booming voice that doesn't seem like it could come from such a little creature.
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Zarnel's eyes follow Creighton Shane's gaze upward. He sighs audibly as he draws the greatsword from his back and steps slightly to the side.
“I've never heard of duergar before. Are they dwarves? They look like dwarves... Are they evil? Or merely defending their home? “
He combines the movements of a shrug with the limbering up of his shoulders before swinging at the duergar wearing the Green bracers.
“Eh. Either way, they attacked us first... “
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Duergar dwell in communities deep underground, and appear as darker, more twisted versions of their kinder kin. Their skin is a dull gray, as though rubbed with dust or ash, but this is a natural coloration that better allows them to blend with their underground surroundings. They are a race of slavers, but while non-dwarven prisoners are usually put to backbreaking work, dwarven prisoners are generally slain on the spot.
No Special Attacks or Defensed but they do possess Spell-like abilities: 1/day—enlarge person (self only), invisibility (self only).
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Xukong comes up behind the fighter and attacks with his sentient bastard sword.
Landing a mighty cut into the back of the deurgar fighter.
The duergar cleric, seeing his compatriots struggling in battle, rushes to join them. He casts a spell to try to hamper his opponents before he does so.
DC 14 will negates.
Bane fills your enemies with fear and doubt. Each affected creature takes a -1 penalty on attack rolls and a -1 penalty on saving throws against fear effects. Bane counters and dispels bless.
Enora
duergar fighter (red) -15hp
Zarnel
Amerel
Xukong
Las Lajas
Arin
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Shouldn't the cleric be subject to an AoO from Xukong? If so, Las would refrain from casting if Xukong disrupts the spell.
Enora fires her crossbow at . The crossbow bolt goes wide.
The duergar fighter needs some heavier artillery and begins an incantation.
Enora
duergar fighter (red) -15hp
Zarnel
Amerel
Xukong
Las Lajas
Arin
duergar cleric (yellow)
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Xukong comes up behind the fighter and attacks with its sentient bastard sword.
d20+9+1
1d10+5
Landing a mighty cut into the back of the deurgar fighter.
While such trifling maledicta would normally mean very little to Xukong, the revolting sound of callused hands sliding down dirty rope, combined with the sudden press of filthy, warm flesh from both sides does get to it.
Nonetheless, it grants no quarter to its bloodied foe!
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Darnit, I could've beaten the puppet-strings if only I hadn't been attending to other games first!
Also, given that Xukong would have both spent an Arcane point first thing and swung Shard with both hands, that attack should in fact have dealt 18 damage!
The fighter crumples at Xukong's follow-up strike.
Las Lajas moves over the fallen deurgar fighter and snaps the mace out of the cleric's hands.
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Las Lajas whips the mace out of the hands of the cleric who is immediately cut down by rapier and greatsword.
From overhead comes the sound of breaking glass, followed by a rain of shards from the sunlight-reflecting mirrors above. Gloom floods the chamber as more of the attackers shimmy down the ropes. Fighting from the dais where he addressed the Pathfinders, Kreighton Shaine shouts, “Our assailants seem unwilling to negotiate. Someone capture one and get some answers!”
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Well they were easy. By the way, these guys don't like intruders to their territory and they REALLY hate dwarfs. Also, don't get taken alive by them... they like their slaves. Enora tries to keep her description brief as the next attack seems quickly approaching. She also casts light on her magical staff.