#4–12: The Refuge of Time - Standard (not Core) (Inactive)

Game Master noral

In the ruins of a fallen empire built on the power of sin lies the key to awakening a great evil from a time long gone.

The Pathfinder Society isn't the only organization seeking this potent artifact, however, and the result of failure could mean disaster for the whole of Varisia and beyond.

* * *

The letter that arrives bears Venture-Captain Heidmarch’s seal, and seems to contain an enclosure.

Should you have additional questions about your mission, seek out a trusted informant in the Downmarket District, a textile merchant named Allira Vandane. She will aid you as much as she can. May Desna smile upon you, Pathfinders.”

Please introduce and describe yourself.

Chosen players can post here please.

Winds is an athletic joyful Sylph, always smiling and happy to be on the material plan. She wears a symbol around her neck representing a lion's head surronded by thunder and lightning. Except for a quiver she has no obvious weapon nor armor and wears only a toga, clearly made specificaly for her, with Storm and lightning parterns.
Her hairs seem to be always in the breeze, floating around her like a living thing.

With a windy voice she bows to her comrades presenting herself. Greetings Pathfinders! I'm Winds, Student from Armund Kelisk and traveler on this Plane. So happy to be here! Anyone knows what is Lissalla or Krune?

She doesn't seems as bright as Sylph are usually described...

A wayang tiptoes onto the scene of the meeting, his shiny, spiky armor not making a sound. He carries all manner of weapons with him and looks unreasonably buff for one of his kind. Or maybe that's courtesy of his three-foot stature. Accompanying him, of all things, is a wallaby nearly twice his height! It also wears complicated armor and hefts heavy metal tanks on either side of its body.

"Hello all, the name's Arnold," he says jovially. "I'm also from a bit off-plane, but I've been here long enough to adapt." Arnold looks a bit nervous as talk turns to the mission, though. "The Runelords are serious business. And that's only from I've heard of them, Pathfinders better than I dealing with their machinations. I would have preferred we just find these tokens, then maybe disperse or dispose of them. Does that only make more sense to me? But we have our orders."

The rumblings of an intense conversation can be heard just beyond the door. As it swings open, the discussion continues without pause. "Yer wrong Mead! Ain'tin' no way she was winkin' n' makin' eyes at you." The arguing gnome is quite engaged with the crimson pseudodragon wrapped around his shoulders. As the pair are nearly the same size, its seems unlikely the blonde gnome is comfortable with the arrangement. He looks up a bit surprised to see anyone else in the room. "Oh, beggin' yer parden. Hmm. Looks like Mead 'n I here stumbled inta the wrong briefin'. Seems this is fer some kinda planar whatsama-whozitz." He slides back into the hall and double checks his dispatch to the wall plate just outside. "Well, Ah'll be damned. Ah wuz in the right spot afterall." He walks up to the others already in the room. "Greetin's n' salutashuns. M'names Spackle." Throughout all of this, he reaches into his haversack and withdraws a tankard. He mutters a bit, then points his finger. Ale flows from the pointed digit, filling the mug to the brim with golden, foamy suds. He pauses a moment to enjoy a swig. Ah! Thank ya Cayden." He holds up his tankard and beer finger, "Anyone else a wee bit thirsty?" Spackle then hikes a thumb at his shoulder, "This freeloader here's Mead. Mead the Kegslayer."

For the most part, Spackle's clothing seems practical and broken in. Not too new and not worn through. He's clearly cultivated a look of experience without trying to come off as a gritty veteran.

The pseudodragon raises his head above the gnome's. "Meadalanthus. No titles. Please ignore his rantings." He looks at Wind's and cocks his head to the side. "Can you control the winds like many of your kind? I would love to glide lazily in circles around such beauty."

Unfortunately, the ability to add an icon went down about two days before I leveled up and added Mead. Sigh. Hopefully that will be fixed someday soon.

The bard rolls his eyes, "P'sh! Lazy's 'bout the only thing 'e's fer doin' well."

Those who are knowledgeable about history may recall more information about Thassilon's past.

* * *
Rumors on the street may provide useful information to knowledgeable or personable characters.

* * *
Those who have made a study of religion may recall more information about Lissala.

A tall dude with a dark grey cloak, hood pulled up over his head, enters the room. He pulls back his hood to reveal a head with long flowing blonde hairs and a face with sharp Elven features...and then bows. ”Greetings, Ingrge at your service.”

Knowledge (Local): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12
Knowledge (Religion): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18

Referencing the letter, Ingrge frowns. ”Hmm...Lissala is not a deity commonly worshiped among today’s faithful...”

Diplomacy (Gather Info): 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (9) + 16 = 25

Oh! I’ve heard people talking about it! Seems like these Lissalan people are bad! They have abducted some poor locals ... oh! I’ve also heard that one of those bad guy is a conjurator of some power.

Says Winds

A small figure slips into the room behind the wallaby. She is small, even for a halfling, and seems far too young to be wearing gear that looks like it has spent many years on the road. A staff hangs from her back and she checks to see that it and her scrolls and components are secure to the bandoliers that crisscross the dark tunic that covers her. The girl visually scans the people at the meeting and flips down her hood on her cloak to get a better view. As she does the Verisian tattoos of pseudodragon and unicorns that cover her face, neck, and hands are revealed. The tattoos pop against skin that seems unnaturally pale and as she speaks those around her that are decently perceptive would notice her teeth seem a bit too long and way too sharp.

Reluctant to draw attention, she pipes up. “Umm, no beer for me please. But I do like your dragon Mr Spackle. And I like your hair Mrs Wind,I wish mine could be that.”

Whats that? Oh yes, I shouldn’t be rude.

“Oh, umm, hello everyone. People call me Doormouse, so I guess you all can too.

Spackle History (aid to Mead): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16
Spackle Local (aid to Mead): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18
Spackle Religion (aid to Mead): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18

Mead History {w/aid}: 1d20 + 8 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 8 + 2 = 23
Mead Local {w/aid}: 1d20 + 8 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 8 + 2 = 17
Mead Religion {w/aid}: 1d20 + 8 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 8 + 2 = 26

But I do like your dragon Mr Spackle.

The dragon offers a wink toward the newcomer.

The dragon seems to perk up a bit now that there is actually something of merit to accomplish. "Ah yes. Varisia lies upon the ancient ruins of the Thassilonian Empire.I seem to recall that the area used to be ruled by a group of infamous wizards, the Runelords. A deplorable bunch. Each specialized in one of the seven deadly sins."

"Lissala was...is?... the Thassilonian deity of runes, fate, obedience, and the reward of service. She is worshiped by Thassilonians as the goddess of magic. Her holy symbol is the Sihedron Rune, and her favored weapon is the whip. Her cult was known for its flagellations and mortifications of the flesh. Again, simply horrifying."

Colin is a thin, gaunt man, in dark red robes. His eyes seem to stare through - gazing into some unknowable distance beyond. He is fidgety - hands always moving.

Foolish Lissalans. They waste their time trying to raise a runelord to rule us. Even if they succeeded, they will all fall to the void of madness eventually.

The girl looks towards what the gaunt robed man was looking at and upon seeing nothing looks back to him. She repeats this a few times and then gives up and scratches her head.

“Well, having a powerful undead mage running around and ruling a country sounds scary. Especially if his friends are a cult that kidnaps people. What’s your name mister? Are you our healer?”

"I feel out of my depth already," Arnold says. "At least I'll be able to fight them when it comes to that, but the rest is trouble enough...let's just try to get it done quickly."

Me a healer? I'm afraid not. I wouldn't devote my life the futile task of attempting to forestall the entropy that will inevitably claim us all. Should things become quite dire, I have certain methods for harnessing fiendish energies to patch one back up. But things are truly dire if you are relying on me for that.

I just realized this guy leveled - I'll get him up to date ASAP.

Mr Sillywords it is.

“That’s ok. I asked because you sound like a friend of mine. He likes Groetus and he heals me the way I like it. Normal healing and channeling hurts me real bad so please be careful if I’m around when you do that. Oh!”

Doormouse turns her body to show two groups of potions. One is a group of 3 black vials each with wax stamp of a frowning face on the top of it and 3 red bottles with smiling faces.

“This might be important. If I get hit really hard you can feed me the frowns faces. If you need your boo-boos fixed you can have one of the smiley faces. Don’t mix them up!”

How do you want to proceed?

Let’s visit Allira Vandane, she could have good insight about what to do next!

Proposes Winds.

After further discussions and exchange you make your way to the market ...

The market is bustling as usual, and in no time you find Allira Vandane. When she sees you she continues working her shop, but passes her customer off immediately to other assistants.

"Ah friends, business is good, but my real business is just beginning! How can I help you, you got Heidmarch's letter I take it?"

Are we openly talking about this cult? They've kidnapped people in this city. We should be careful.

Doormouse squirms around and pulls out her letter from Sheila and a thin piece of charcoal. She quickly scribbles the word 'Sihedronon' and 'Lissala' on the back of the letter and hands it to Allira.

"Yes we did Miss Vandane. We are looking for these people. Well, we are looking for their temple. They are looking for this place too, and we must beat them to it. Can you help us?"

Allira Vandane is a human in her forties. She speaks with an eye on her surroundings.

"The map you received has the location you are seeking as close as we know. According to our sources, the shrine lies about 100 miles west of Kaer Maga in the Wyvern Mountains, through the Ash-Blown lands. This is the most important information you need I suppose."

"You must know more of the area than we do," Arnold says uncertainly. "The route doesn't sound hospitable, or so we should assume. Is there anything there we'd best prepare for? And pray tell, how did you get roped into something this big? I understand if you'd rather not say. But it would help to know everything about the situation."

The woman thinks for a moment.

”To be honest I personally do not know what exactly the route is like. And what my history has to do this mission is a riddle to me. Please hurry! I do not know how the tokens look like but they are your key target. The research indicates that several dozen are stored in the shrine. We don't know how many are hidden elsewhere. Please do not break the tokens, as they do not transport you to Krune! Sheila will break you if you do so! We also need to learn the words that must be spoken when rending a token. Otherwise a broken token is worthless!“ she says with some concern.

”So again: How you travel is of no concern to me. Remember that the Lissalans have a head start as they were seen leaving two days ago! Perhaps they will arrive ahead of you. Perhaps they have been mired with obstacles. Who knows?“

Doormouse is caught mid snack as she listens to Allira speak. She quickly shoves a travel cake into her mouth and swallows it awkwardly.

I don't like how this sounds. First the Whispering Way, now this?

"Two days? That's a big head start. Should we leave now?"

Ingrge nods. ”Do you know the cultists ethnic make-up? Might help with tracking?”

She shakes her head.

”I have no information on the cultists unfortunately.“ she says with a worried look on her face.

"In that case, we probably should be off. Unless there are any different questions? Many thanks for your help, Ma'am."

Winds seems a little lost into her mind as it's her first time in Kaer-Maga. Her attention is always focus on a new think and she barely listen to her comrades conversation with lady Vandane.

So many wonders here! It's almost like home but with less people flying and less wind. Look! an undead porter how strange, isn't it?
Where are the giants who built this place?
Like a child discovering a new thing, Winds asks a lot of silly questions to her comrades.

Vaguely listening to Ingrgre's question she says
I've hear someone talking about an Acadame graduate, Naroth Balam, being the leader of the cult. Isn't the Acadamae the equivalent of Armun Kelisk on your plane?

Winds will buy a potion of delay poison for 300gp

Anything else you wish to do?

Sounds like we should make haste, futile as our mission is when faced with the inevitable madness that will claim us all - but I suppose if it forestalls doom for a bit longer, it might be worthwhile. Let us make depart quickly.

Ingrge nods, "We had best start where they were last seen...see if I can find some tracks..."

Survival: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (13) + 9 = 22

"Them track'll be two days old 'r older ifin we keep dillydallyin' about."

We know where they go. Lets move as quickly as possible to the temple and then we will looks for tracks.

I don't know myself how to do that. On the plane of Air, no creatures leaves tracks...

I’m good to move on towards the shrine.

Doormouse mutters to herself as shifts her feet around uncomfortably.

“The cult leader graduated from the Acadame? That school is dangerous. That means he is dangerous. Spooky man.”

You all make the necessary preparations and purchase what you believe is going to support you on this mission!

You can of course make purchases. Note it on the slides in your row.

The trek with the horses is uneventful.

In the mountain valley, sparse trees sprout from cracks in the steep cliffs, bending in the direction of the constant, howling wind. Piles of scree litter the ground at the base of the cliffs.

In a hollow with a muddied brook, a hole in the mountainside opens up. It was clearly excavated recently—piles of soil and rock flank the opening.

A perfectly square tunnel the height of an ogre cuts through worked stone, leading to a chamber beyond.

Light from within reveals muddy tracks in the dust that coats the floor of the tunnel.

See map.

The Acadame dangerous? Hardly! Only for the weak of mind and spirit. I graduated from the Academe and I'm find. I don't know why it gets such a bad reputation for killing, maiming, and destroying the minds of its students.

After defending his alma matter, Colin resumes his typical low-volume mutterings about doom and madness.

Ingrge will check the tracks...

Tracking: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (6) + 9 = 15

Once in front of the tunnel, Winds draws a wand from her quiver and uses it on herself.

Better to be protected. Then, once she stowed away her wand back into her quiver she draw a gigantic bow made of bones as well as two wands that she puts on her belt.

She then casts Heroism and See invisibility on herself.
Better to be prepared!

Drawing another wand from her quiver she asks Does any one know how to use this? It's for healing.

I will cast Invisibility after breaking line of sight with the shrine entrance.

Doormouse slips away and disappears from sight then doubles back to scamper over to Winds and taps her on her leg. She then wiggles her fingers to pantomime casting a spell and points to Wind’s wand and then herself.

I like this lady. Better to be hidden.

Winds gives the wand she had in hand to the invisible Doormouse.

Thanks. If someone is in dire need of it, don't hesitate to use it on them.

Then, she draws and drinks her potion.

Ingrge believes that many different people were part of the company that found this site first - but they probably couldn’t discover any apparent means of entry.

Perception

Perc(Winds): 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (2) + 12 = 14 +2Heroism
Perc(Spackle): 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (12) + 11 = 23
Perc(Arnold): 1d20 + 10 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 10 + 2 = 22
Perc(Doormouse): 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (1) - 1 = 0
Perc(Colin): 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (7) + 0 = 7

Together with Spackle's and Arnold's observations you deduce that rather than spend any more effort searching for an entrance, the company started digging and once they unearthed worked stone, they used magic to disintegrate the walls.

The earthen embankment is impassable, and the soil piles are treated as difficult terrain.

Wind suddenly hears a sound and shorty thereafter you all hear a voice call out, “Halt, tomb robbers! You shall not enter this sacred site. One more step and you will be destroyed.”

You don't see the one who called out.

@GM I have see invisibility does it help?

We are not tomb robbers, but Pathfinders! Bad people entered this place to help release an Evil on the Material Plane! says Winds her hair dancing in an invisible breeze.

”I am willing to listen... explain yourself!“

Suddenly you all see a figure appearing.

Tall as an Ulfen, with bronze skin that glows as if it had just been removed from the fire. A pair of fiery wings sprout from its back and in it's hand is a flaming greatsword.

You can all feel the power of this being. Kn Planes to identify. Choose your words carefully and decide who makes the Diplomacy roll and the others can aid.

Know. Planes: 1d20 + 13 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 13 + 2 = 30 +3 if the creature has the Air subtype

Winds tries to recognize the being in front of her and tries to remember what could persuade it to let them pass if the creature is one of reason.

Winds bow to the Movanic Deva.
Questions: DR, Spell-like ability, Special attacks

Powerful Angel, we are here in the pursuit of evil cultists of Lissala, a goddess of ancient time when Thassilion thrived.
We know they have been here to secure some "Refuge Token" in this ancient place of worship.
The cultist want to use these tokens to raise an ancient runelord of the past, named Krune. I don't know exactly who he is, but raising someone dead since milenia is not something good.
We hope to stop them for using these tokens and use these to help the Society prevent the cultist to raise their evil grandmaster!
My comrades are more knowledgeable about that than me and could explain to you how evil they are!
Nevertheless, I've heard that they have caputured two innocent people, a Dwarf merchant and a Taldan noble and we also hope to be able to save them from slavery, or worse...

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 16 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 16 + 2 = 36