The Immortal Principality of Ustalav is a fog-shrouded nation of countless horrors, and a once-proud realm that for over 600 years languished under the despotic rule of the Whispering Tyrant, until he was vanquished 72 years ago. Yet, the legacy of the Whispering Tyrant is a poisoned, cursed and haunted land; many of his followers remain at large, patiently hiding awaiting his return. And some are taking far more fruitful efforts to see the lich-king's return...
Ardis, 4700 AR
You presently find yourselves in Ardis, the former capital of the Immortal Principality of Ustalav, after receiving a written summons from Lady Sonora Delmont with a simple message - Tar-Baphon must not rise! Please seek me out in Ardis if you wish to play a role in saving the world. In a city that contains many decaying estates and fallow fields, the estate that lies before you with the Delmont name above the entry archway has been respectfully maintained. Guards at the entrance led you inside the manor, no questions asked, upon being shown the summons. You now sit or stand in a lavish manor, in the library to be specific, while you await your hostess. Tea and wine has been served for your enjoyment.
Natalya has loosened her bond with Septu, in deference to the room full of books that she currently stands in. She stands with her back to the fire, the flickering light backlighting her to stunning effect as it plays over her red, orange and gold armour.
"Is it always this cold here?" She asks in Taldane, heavily accented with the long relaxed sounds of a thuvian accent. "And the rain! I like rain, but surely it must stop at some point?"
Zolaire paces back and forth, full of energy as always, dressed in his customary robes, but showing no signs of being affected by the temperature, "Nat, you're always cold." he sighs, "If it's really bothering you, I can give you a temperature ward, but I think you're overreacting." He leans against the wall for a moment, fingers drumming along the spines of a few books, before resuming his pacing.
"I think the weather is quite nice here. The cold air is refreshing and keeps your senses sharp.", Batoh added with his low resonating voice. He found a seat near the middle of the room in a luxurious armchair painted to appear as if it was made of precious metal, or at least he thought it was painted. He looked quite comical as he tried to delicately hold a teacup in the large paws that he calls hands, being careful all the while to not spill his drink upon the deep-buttoned plush upholstery. "You guys should try this tea. It's very... um...", he trailed off as his eyes wandered in search of the correct word.
"I live in a desert Zol." Natalya points out, her drawl lengthening the single syllable of his name right out. "Of course this place is cold! I haven't been properly warm since I left Taldor!"
"That's Ustalav, more or less. You're cold, and you're wet, and then you're dead...and then you're still cold and wet, I suppose. Can't imagine you'll be any warmer or drier in your grave, no matter what your coffin-maker claims."
Sour Heck has exchanged his road clothes with the well-mended castoffs of a half-dozen minor nobles. Where before he looked like a grubby, hungover, half-starved, down-on-his-luck peasant, he now looks like a grubby, hungover, half-starved, down-on-his-luck courier. The bard had been following a servant around the room, prodding him for a refill every time he drained his wineglass. Now that the servant has departed, possibly for another bottle of wine, he is wandering around the room looking for a place to settle. "How long do you suppose we'll be waiting here for her ladyship?" He leans for a moment on a taxidermied badger, then visibly recoils upon meeting its glassy stare. "Ugh. Not as long as this fellow, I hope."
Zolaire shrugs, "You have a core of elemental fire. You'd think that could keep you warm."
The doors to the library open and in steps a noblewoman in her forties, about 5'3" in stature, dressed in appropriate garb. Sonora Delmont Almost as in a trance, she begins speaking the following words:
"Upon the ashen pathways tread
Softly, as the whispered dead.
As mortal flesh doth rot and fail
To leech and maggot, ebbing frail.
Unhallowed words cannot be spoken,
With whispered oath, death lies broken.
Shed fear, shed life, shed pain, shed time,
Eternity seized shall soon be thine.
First spirit torn from Grave-Lady’s grasp
Be rent and sown as soured ash.
Soft the spiral song reverses,
Judgment lost, damnation surges.
Keeper of the damned’s soul take,
With packlord’s heart the beast shall wake
And flesh be wrought in disarray—
Stillborn cocoon, to blessed decay.
A hundred slain lie innocent,
Grind bone and marrow to cement.
Craft now a skull of splintered graves,
Unmake life, unmake the slave.
Where history churns dream to blister,
Necrophagous secrets whisper
Through chronicles of Raven’s tongue -
A legacy of fear unspun.
Blood spilt atop the Iron Thorn
Invokes that which cannot be born.
Arise the Tyrant now unbound,
Bearer of the Carrion Crown!"
She then snaps out of her reverie, gazes at the party, with grave concern on her face, "Thank you for answering my summons. This matter is of the most delicate nature which requires your urgent attention. Please sit." She walks over purposefully to the nearest empty seat and rests her back against the chair. She closes her eyes, as if to gather her thoughts. "My name is Sonora Delmont and there is no time for charades. I am a member of the Esoteric Order of the Palatine Eye, an Order sworn to guard Ustalav and its ancient traditions. We learned that the Whispering Way agents were working on a nefarious plot to release Tar Baphon from his prison in Gallowspire. We were cooperating with a band of adventurers known as the Steel Ravens, but we lost contact with them over a week ago and now fear that they have met an untimely demise. The last communication we received from them from Thrushmoor stated that they were on the trail of a dark rider heading SW along the coast toward Caliphas. We need your help in picking up the trail of the Whispering Way agent." She pauses to gauge the party's reaction.
Zolaire nods, "Good to meet you, lady Delmont. So, Thrushmoor heading towards Caliphas? That's... what, two day's journey from here? Three, I suppose, if you can't fly. Any idea how long we have before it's too late?" he asks.
"It sounds as though we'd best go straight to Caliphas." Natalya suggests, "That way we have a much better chance of finding this rider near the city than chasing him along the roads."
"We could also head into Ardis- I have enough for a scroll of teleport, that would probably be the fastest possible way to get there." Zolaire notes, "I've been to Caliphas a few times, enough to be familiar with the place at least."
Zolaire nods, "Good to meet you, lady Delmont. So, Thrushmoor heading towards Caliphas? That's... what, two day's journey from here? Three, I suppose, if you can't fly. Any idea how long we have before it's too late?" he asks.
Lady Delmont's voice raises an octave, "Every second we delay could cost us. I have no idea how long before the Whispering Way's plans come to fruition. From what we have been able to gather, they are collecting ingredients needed for a foul ritual, whose purpose can be found in the poem I read to you as I walked into the room. To my knowledge, the Way's agents have gathered the ectoplasmic remains of a damned soul in Harrowstone, the heart of a werewolf pack leader in Shudderwood, and the Skull of Splintered Graves from Feldgrau. If you have the means of teleporting, though I know that magic is unstable, the risk is worth it."
"Very well." Zolaire nods, "How will we know the cultist? Do we have any sort of description for them?" he turns to his fellow adventurers, "I can fly ahead- meet you in the Ardis town square, where we can teleport to Caliphas from?" he asks.
Assuming that they others agree to the plan, he heads outside, sprouts massive wings of fire and soars into town, buying a scroll of Teleport and waiting for the others to catch up.
Sour Heck has been pale and shaking since Lady Delmont recited the words from her trance. "I've suspected--no, known--that the Whispering Way was up to something terrible in the shadows. But this--this horror--this obscenity--this abomination--"
He shudders theatrically "It's the worst poem I've ever heard! Pharasma hold them down! Could there be more out there, just waiting to be declaimed? They must be stopped, and stopped quickly, before all sanity and goodness is driven utterly from the earth!"
He drains the last dregs of his wineglass. "Lucky for us you heroes are available! Good luck to you. Do let me know how your assault on the most fearsome necromancers ever to walk in the Tyrant's footsteps turns out. Leave out the unsettling details, though. I'd hate for anything to spoil my sunny disposition."
He starts to gather up his things, then seems to notice Lady Delmont's reaction. "Oh. Oh! You were saying you wanted me to go along? Perhaps as a distraction? Well, I suppose when the worst happens, it'll probably happen to me first, so the rest of them might live a few moments longer. In agony."
The bard sighs. "If I must, I must. Tell me, Lady, what material assistance can you give us? Generals who send soldiers into the field without some coin to fund the campaign tend not to win many wars."
Sour Heck speaks to Her Ladyship in familiar tones--if he hasn't met her, he seems to know something of her.
The room jumped to life before Batoh could finish his thought. Before he knew it, everyone was moving this way and that. He took one more sip of his tea before he set it down on the sofa table nearby. Zolaire was out the door quickly shouting about some magic-something-or-other. Batoh nodded to Natalya, a knowing gesture, as he slowly grabbed his backpack and sword. He laid one of his large hands on Sour's shoulders and smiled, "Worry not, Sour, we shall stop this ritual before any misfortune befalls us."
The secret elite of Ustalav assemble in exclusive social clubs known collectively as the Esoteric Order of the Palatine Eye. What began centuries ago as a cabal of mystics exploring forbidden knowledge has given rise to an organized network of gentleman philosophers who almost universally rise to the most inf luential stations of Ustalav society as judges, deans, landed aristocracy, and even high-ranking clergy of Pharasma’s church. The Order promotes divine enlightenment through participation in secret meetings involving mysterious philosophies and strange rituals. Given the society’s interest in guarding the lands and people of Ustalav, the Order also opposes groups and nations that might bring the homeland to harm, such as the hordes of Belkzen, fanatics of Razmiran, necromancers of the Whispering Way, and even overly ambitious knights from Lastwall—to say nothing of countless other menaces within the country’s borders.
In response to Zolaire's questions, Lady Delmont pauses, "The only information provided was that the rider was gray skinned, work a dark cloak to hide his appearance, and rode on a pale horse."
Lady Delmont does not appear amused by the bard's histrionics. "I have heard of your exploits, Sour. Do not sell yourself short, you can aid your companions a great deal in their efforts to thwart the Whispering Way. As for assistance, yes, there is something I can give you before you depart. Zolaire, hold your departure a minute while I retrieve it. Trust me, it will be worth the wait." Lady Delmont approaches one of the shelves in the library and pulls out a specific gray-covered book, causing a secret compartment to appear. She sticks her hand in the compartment and pulls out a gold-plated heavy mace. "Through my efforts, I managed to acquire the Raven's Head, a powerful artifact in the struggle against the undead and the Whispering Way. And I am willing to loan it to you in your efforts until this Carrion Crown plan is averted." She begins to walk toward you to hand you the weapon, when suddenly, the west wall to the library explodes outward! As the dust settles, a hoofed, treelike abomination standing 30' tall with writhing tentacles and gaping mouths comes into view, as a sense of horror threatens to overwhelm you!
Natalya charges the abomination, her flail glowing with a flash of flame as she whirls it around in a great arc. Her wings lift her into the air and she aims for the creature's face!
Zolaire's mind spins, trying to figure out if he knows what this beast could possibly be.
Mindful of where he is, Zolaire holds back on massive explosions, instead favoring precise blows against the monster. He steps into line of sight for the creature and fires three rays of golden fire at the beast.
He isn't done, though, and with the practiced ease of one who's done something a thousand times, he immediately follows the three rays with a barrage of red-gold missiles, which unerringly find their way into the creature's hide.
"I have heard of your exploits, Sour....
Sour Heck winces. "Probably from Rosoni Valesong. She's been trying to get me killed ever since I threw holy water on her at the bardic competition of the Last Breath festival. In my defense, I was not the only one in the audience who thought she was possessed by a banshee."
When the creature busts through the wall, the bard looks more resigned than surprised.
"I don't know what that tree creature is, but I bet its bark is worse than its bite," the bard says dryly. The foolish bit of humor makes the situation seem more ludicrous and less scary.
He raises his longspear to fend off the monster, unfurling the great black warbanner of the Hawthorn Society in the process.
The bard's spear seems to give a low chuckle to itself in anticipation of combat. Dark power coalesces around it. Heck's allies' weapons also begin to pulse with sinister force.
Seeing the other Society members reacting slowly to the creature's attack, Sour Heck starts to pound the floor with the heel of his spear, beating out a marching rhythm slowly at first, then faster and faster. As the beat accelerates, the rest of the world seems to slow down as his allies speed up.
Sour has no idea what kind of creature faces him now.
Round 1:
The tree monster roars, activating his Frightful Presence as a free action. The Oread and Sorcerer are overwhelmed and on the nearest chance they get, they flee out of the room immediately!
It then moves up 15' to have everyone in range of its tentacles and lashes out at the bard who is making the annoying sounds, slapping him across the face!
The monster screams in pain as Natalya smites it with her flail!
Batoh steps into action, quickly unsheathing his scimitar and bringing his shield to bear in front of him. He moves forward trying to step between the oncoming creature and Lady Delmont. He stood in a full defensive posture, ready to strike the creature if it dared come near.
Then it hit him, a wave of emotion strong enough to make his stomach churn. Visions of burning buildings and dying villagers flooded his mind. "Not again...", He wanted to fight, he wanted to root himself and bear all he had in this fight against this creature, but his legs betrayed him. He turned away, and ran
Natalya remains unaffected by the creature but, as Heck's magic courses through her veins, she becomes a whirling beacon of fire as her flail smashes into the creature again and again!
Zolaire begins repeating his spells, but is caught off-guard at the horrendous beast's agression, and flees, taking a solid blow but stays standing, running out of the library.
Waiting for Sour to post before moving on.
Waiting for Sour to post before moving on.[/ooc]
Round 2:
The evil 30' creature snarls at the paladin who just hurt it and ignores the bard. It focuses its tentacle attacks on the paladin!
Sour Heck winces as tentacles wrap round and round Natalya. "Now really, taking such liberties without even a proper introduction? Let me show you how it's done." Muttering an incantation under his breath, the bard rushes in and grasps Natalya's hand, shaking it enthusiastically. "How do you do? I'm Hecsadmir Chevedzku--but call me Heck, or we'll be here all night."
At his touch, a current of power wraps around her, and the creature's tentacles start to slip away as if trying to grasp a dream. "Keep in mind we're not properly introduced either," warns the bard as he grips his spear firmly again, interposing its pulsing tip between himself and the squirming tendrils.
Sour Heck winces as tentacles wrap round and round Natalya. "Now really, taking such liberties without even a proper introduction? Let me show you how it's done." Muttering an incantation under his breath, the bard rushes in and grasps Natalya's hand, shaking it enthusiastically. "How do you do? I'm Hecsadmir Chevedzku--but call me Heck, or we'll be here all night."
At his touch, a current of power wraps around her, and the creature's tentacles start to slip away as if trying to grasp a dream. "Keep in mind we're not properly introduced either," warns the bard as he grips his spear firmly again, interposing its pulsing tip between himself and the squirming tendrils.
.
"Now that is a scary old stump," Heck remarks. "I wonder what it is afraid of? Hedge-trimmers? Beavers? Dogs marking territory?" He stretches out an arm in an arcane gesture. "One way to find out."
The bard touches the paladin and the tentacle slips off her midsection much to the surprise of the creature. Before it can react, Natalya becomes a whirling dervish, its flail repeatedly bashing the tree creature until it topples over dead! With the creature dead, Batoh and Zolaire can return with no ill effect.
After a few minutes, Lady Delmont recovers from her panic and hands over to the party the Raven's Head heavy mace, after thanking you profusely from saving her from that dreadful tree monster.
"Thanks, Lady Delmont. Could you give it to Natalya? It's my turn to run around in terror."
Instead, the bard goes to the west wall and examines the debris. "Either it was protesting the destruction of its cousins to make books, or it was sent here for us. Batoh, do you think you could track that thing back to where it came from? I'll understand if the answer is no--its footprints are only as big as bathtubs."
Zolaire returns shortly, carrying a ball of golden fire in his hand, wounds closing as it touches him, "Anyone else need some healing?" he asks, "Regardless, we should get going- either to track it down, or to get to Caliphas."
Natalya takes the mace appreciatively and the weapon seems to respond to her touch, glowing more brilliantly in the paladin's hand. "A fine weapon to be sure." She agrees, giving it a swing or two. "My thanks. We should pursue it quickly." She agrees. "A monster like that came from somewhere - we should find it!"
She does however pause for a few moments first. Her hair waves gently in the still air and then, apparently from out of her hair itself, a small bird appears with vivid red plummage and a sweet song. A young phoenix in every respect.
"Yes Septu, I know." She says, glancing back at the fallen tree. "I'll make sure you're here next time."
---------------
Sour Heck, while waiting for Batoh to decide which way the monster's ambiguous footprints lead, helps by pointing out details such as handkerchiefs it might have dropped (it didn't) and graffiti it might have written (it didn't).
"So, Natalya, you said 'no' to joining the Hawthorn Society before," Heck says, leaning on his spear. "Any chance you've reconsidered, now that you've seen the benefits first-hand? You wouldn't have spend so much time looking for hideous monsters to kill you...they'll march right on in! And you'd also get to hear all kinds of horrible, sanity-destroying secrets that will keep you from sleeping at night. Best of all, you don't have to stay in one place--you'll be haunted by your decision to join even when you return to the south! What more could a hero ask?"
Natalya and Spetu both give Heck a flat look which, from the combined gazes, is mildly terrifying in its intensity.
"I do not wish to join your bush buddies Heck. You are a good fighter and we have the same goals, but once we have defeated these vampires I return to the desert. My role is there and I don't need northerners venturing into the sand to try and find me!" Her tone is even though, this is clearly a conversation that's been done before.
"I wish you'd stop saying we're going to run afoul of vampires all the time. It's such a superstitious old stereotype, that Ustalav is full of vampires that want to kill us." The bard shakes his head. "It's actually full of much worse things that want to kill us."
Batoh walked back into the room to join his companions. With his head hung low he sheathes his weapon and joins the group. [b]"I agree with Heck. The foes we will be chasing will be worse than any nightmare, but we need to do this to keep the innocent from experiencing the same hell."
Batoh walked over to the large opening the creature had forced through the wall. Taking a close look at the surrounding area, Batoh tries to determine where the creature had come from.
Batoh follows the tree monster's tracks for about 100 feet before they vanish completely. He surmises the creature may have been summoned as evident by the lack of tracks past a certain point. With no other leads, the party heads to town to purchase the Teleport Scroll .
"The tracks end about 100 strides in that direction.", Batoh gestured. "I do not think that creature merely stumbled upon us. The forces we are opposing are most likely already aware of our intent. We must hurry." With that, Batoh turned and hustled down into the town to purchase the scroll with Zolaire
Sour Heck ducks back into the Delmont manor and nods politely to Lady Delmont.
"I'm sorry to say that either someone very powerful is very angry at you and knows where you live, or you have the most extraordinarily bad luck. The good news is that the four of us are about to teleport far away from here. Good news for us, anyway. Perhaps this would be a good time for you to take a vacation to somewhere safer, like the Worldwound, or Geb."
"Before we go, are there any other members of your Order that might help us when we reach Caliphas? Could you write us a letter of introduction?" He looks skeptically at a writing desk that was flattened in the monster's attack.
Natalya waits with Heck and Lady Delmont for a few minutes and then hustles the bard down the road towards the town.
"Batoh is right, we should move quickly. If enemies know where we are then we'd best not be there as soon as possible"
Beside her Septu glows in the gloom like a fiery lantern.
Lady Delmont hurriedly writes you a letter of introduction, vouching for your heroic deeds and hands it to the bard. "Please take care of the mace. It is on loan to you, so I expect you will bring it back at the end of this ordeal." She then calls her staff, who had been in hiding, to help her pick up the library.
The party gathers as Zolaire starts reading his newly purchased scroll.
You arrive a safe distance away, say a mile, to avoid spooking the city dwellers and drawing attention to yourselves.
"What now?" Natalya asks, "This is a great city. I cannot locate our foes simply by walking around and looking."
Zolaire rubs his temple as they arrive, the scroll crumbling to ash, "Ugh. I really need to learn a proper teleport spell. Scroll transportation just feels so unnatural."
In response to Nat, he asks the group, "Anyone have any divinations? Otherwise, I guess our best bet is to just search the city." his wings erupt from his shoulders, "I can check a way up the road, then come back shortly to give an extra aerial perspective." he offers.