Nik sighs and looks over his shoulder as Horsington falls farther and farther behind.
I wonder if I'll ever see any of them again... stupid sea horses... stupid funky portal... stupid Arborea...
Rinika frowns but shrugs, she doesn't seem to overly care about the specifics of where they're going. "Guess we'll find out. Spose that means you don't know how long this will be."
She tries sticking her head out the window for a moment, causing her curly mane of hair and various scarves to whip around wildly, and a flurry of blinking to attempt to block out the wind. She pulls her head back in in defeat, and spends a few moments fixing the damage. After that, she promptly curls up against Lunk and takes a nap.
The breeze is cool almost cold, but pleasantly so. Soon a thick green mist envelops you and your transport and you can't help but drift off...
...you slowly open your eyes from a deep slumber and clear the sand from your eyes. Then you notice all around you, a flat plane of fine, white dust stretches to the horizon. The air is still cold, but now it's extremely dry. Some of the dust blows gently through the sky, and at first you mistake it for snow. But it doesn't take you long to realize the truth. The white particles may be as cold as ice, but they're also dry and choking. Fortunately the air is still, not much of the stuff gets lifted off the ground.
A set of foot prints leads to you and away. Something's wrong, something's missing. When you fully come to your senses and assess your predicament you discover you've been robbed.
Nik curses under his breath a few times as he realizes that he can't even make any replacement shamblers any time soon.
Lunk instinctively reaches for his katana. Oh, poop. He still has his original living steel katana, but the expensive greensteel one is gone!
He signs this to Savi.
Savi walks along the footprints.
“Let’s see if I can help you outta this mess.”
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Rinika pats herself down, which takes a minute or two of confirmation due to her coat of many pockets. Afterwards, she lets out a loud stream of colorful invectives that a person who has only been in impolite society for a year or two probably shouldn't be so familiar with.
"...and then I'll twist it until it pops. Rotten...Let's go find this dead man walking."
Jek pushes some white sand about with his hoof.
"This sure doesn't look like where we were..."
Now fluttering over the tracks , Savi keeps her eyes on the trail. The footprints are about as big as her, but so are most footprints, so she concentrates on her tracking to the point that there is actually a slight pause before she replies to Jek.
“It looks like a winter wonderland, but… so fake.”
She practically mumbles the word fake. Savi hopes she won’t try cracking any jokes while doing this. Deep concentration and comedic timing are not friends.
Savi faking being a professional tracker follows the trail of the thief rather easily, even though they tried to hide their trail for a while. After several hours of walking that makes your throat parched from the dry air and fine white sand you come across a skeleton of some gigantic beast that must have died centuries ago. Treated hides are stretched over the rib cage to provide shelter from the elements of this place.
Rinika glares daggers at the hut. She glances at Savi and quietly asks, "Wanna go check it out with me?"
She'll summon up her shadow armor, then will summon up her wings and cast invisibility on herself once everyone has made any preparations that they want.
Savi says, “I went and used up my invisibility power, but if you carry the bottle…” She points out the bottle at Lunk’s right hip, and goes on, “…you can sneak me anywhere. And if you cast message, you can send me wherever and I can fit into little spaces, report what I see from above, or whatever.
“I’m not you, but we fairies are naturally good at hiding from big people!”
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Baraxx wakes himself with a snort, sitting straight up.
"Why am I hungry. What's going on?' he growls, head quite fuzzy. As the group discovers their various items missing he eventually looks at his finger and simply grunts, "oh' before helping the crew look around, not particularly upset with the theft, though internally envisioning bloody murder on the culprit as a matter of principle.
As the group approaches the bone-hut thingy, he simply stays in the back and keeps an eye out, content to let the sneaky ones do their sneaky thing.
"Looks like I should've bought that barrel when I had the chance..." Nik grumbles as they set off.
--------
When they get closer to the weird hut thing, Nik comments "Think they have spare barrels of water?"
Jek hands a ration to Baraxx and offers some water to Nik.
"Rinika, do you need us to stay back here for a bit?"
Rinika nods. "Yeah, come rescue us if you hear a tussle starting."
Rinika grows her wings, grabs the familiar bottle, casts invisibility, and flies in.
As she flies she whispers, "You sure you don't want me to smash the bottle? Looks really uncomfortably close in there."
Savi replies (though message, if Rinika cast it), I’ve grown taller than my mother, but… I don’t think I’ll get any bigger, unless I become a Great Fairy.
Anyway, I keep some of my old stuff in here. Let me think about it. But y’know, if I wanted to, I could smash the bottle myself, right?
Nik politely refuses the drink.
"What I need is a good twenty gallons of water. Just on hand. For later. Might want to fireball something, ya know?"
A human man sits eating from a bowl of cold gruel. He wears white clothing the color of the dust that surrounds you. All around him is a glittering hoard of treasures, piles of coins, statuary, vases, urns, crowns, scepters, combs, and other jewelry. Even an orb that appears to be made of solid gold glows softly amongst the gathered treasures.
Savi first rolls up her sleeves, making her outfit a ninja outfit… or more like a little black party dress with black stockings, heels and princess gloves, and a black masquerade mask, and thick black ascot, and a black beret.
It’s black. Ninja enough, she whispers via message as she exits the still-invisible bottle.
Savi flies to a place she can (1) see the treasure to scan for familiar objects and (2) watch the thieves. Or is our pack-rat a lone wolf?
Or more like a lone rat, Savi again whispers via message.
After thinking on it, Or more like a pack-wolf… nope. No. Not really. Not at all. That implies he’s with a pack, but our pack-rat’s a lone man.
…a pac-man.
Savi sees no one else and she's having trouble finding the party’s stolen items.
Rinika takes a quick look around as well for her stuff. And I guess everyone else's stuff too.
The prankster has had her fun, but she uses Message seriously now. It’s quite a treasure trove, but I can’t find our stuff.
Rinika spies the tell tale tine of her Tiamat comb poking out of a chest that is slightly ajar. A number of treasures lay on top of this particular chest. Rinika also sees no additional cross traders.
Rinika whispers, "I did. Make a distraction outside and I'll grab it."
Oh… I just remembered. I CAN turn invisible. And so she does.
A chorus starts to sing. “OOOOOoooOoOoOOoooOOOOOOOooooooooo…….” The female vocals seem to be emanating all around the hide fort.
Lunks gloves warn Baraxx, Savi is making some kind of distraction. We should remain hidden.
And fair warning. This will be weird.
Lunk makes some tap-dancing sound effects. His mockingbird talent sends tappity-taps all over the place.
Savi remains invisible as she sings,
“Once upon a time…”
Vocals ooh.
“There lived an old miser man…”
Vocals ahh.
“By the name of Silas Stingy.”
Savi zips to a new location at every pause, so her position can never be pinpointed.
And Lunk’s tappity-taps gradually become a pounding, sinister taiko drum.
“He carried all his money
In a little black box
Which was heavy
As
A
Rock
With a big
Pad
Lock
All the
Little
Kids would
SHOUT!!!
When
Silas
Was
About…”
And now the ghost sounds truly sound like banshees outta hell, as Savi sings off key,
“Money money money bags
Money money bags
Therrrrre gooooes Minnnngyyyyy Stinnnngyyyyy…”
The taiko becomes a war drum. The back-up banshees shriek!
Once the man seems suitably distracted, Rinika is going to try to search the chest for traps.
If she doesn't find any, she's going to start trying to pocket absolutely everything she can get her hands on, starting with the party's stuff.
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Baraxx starts a bit at Lunk’s unexpected whisper, but nods and hunkers down chuckling softly.
”Seems about right for you lot.” he quips quietly.
The knight of the post draws his short sword as Savi and Lunk put on the show of a lifetime.
Rinika starts by grabbing the solid gold orb which begins to glow brighter and brighter, almost blindingly so. The party outside also sees the glow and everything starts to go white....
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You've come to this desolate place in search of knowledge - knowledge of what lies within this mighty tower that has survived the eons with greater tenacity than the structures around it.
Chant is the spire holds great treasures. Indeed, some say it's a vault. Others claim it holds the essence of the powers that once dwelt here. Still more rattle their bone-boxes about forbidden secrets waiting inside, perhaps even clues to the identity of those who built these ruins. Whichever is the case, you've come to learn the truth.
The spire is a single conical tower of white stone, with little ornamentation. It has a diameter of 80 feet and stands about 100 feet tall. All around the ruins, foundations, made from the same white stone and covered in Pelion's fine, chalky dust. Some appear to have been almost unimaginably large in their day, but all are gone now.
The spire has an obvious doorway, but chant has it that it's impossible to enter the structure. The doorway is a square-set arche, open and empty, though nothing but darkness lies beyond.
It is said that nymphs are beautiful, such that to gaze upon on would blind any man or woman. As for Meliboea… she is certainly easy on the eyes, graceful, delicate with a hint of muscle tone… but if one’s eyes should linger, it’s not because she is an irresistible temptress.
She is simply, apparently, not of this world.
Her clothing is a feathered robe—the epitome of fashion among Hyperborean nymphs! Hemmed atop the knee, cascading from the left shoulder leaving the right bosom exposed—or it would if not for the modest breastband.
The robe, everything on her from boots to bow, and her physical features as well just scream ‘earthy crunchy.’ Eyes like clearwater, hair brown as a riverbed, flesh tan like beachsand smoothed by a gentle wave…
This is not one of Aphrodite’s voluptuous playmates. This is an Artemisian huntress. A naiad, an archeress, a pure maiden. And if you were to ask her if she’s as pure as the virgin goddess herself…?
I’m better than her.
That’s what Meliboea would say.
And don’t call me by that name. I took a vow. It’s Kid Artemis… I’ll be the Artemis I believed in, but not for her. I’ll do it for my slain sisters, my goddess Aura, my mentor Callisto, and every other nymph and girl my aunt failed!
* * * * *
Again, Artemis wakes with a heavy heart, a prayer to Aura, and a stifled urge to pray to her aunt. She only answers with arrows and lies.
Kid Artemis offers to move close. “If any of you wanna cast Message on me, or Light on my arrow’s feather, I’ll wait. And then I’m gonna scout ahead a bit.” She smiles pleasantly. That always worked for Aphrodisians.
If no one objects to scouting…
…the sneaky nymph moves into position for a close look at the spire. How DO we get in? And is anyone here? Would they object to our presence?
Jorian eyes the nymph quietly as she speaks.
I was once like you he thinks morosely to himself, and its true. Once he was beautiful like Artemis, celestially beautiful, a creature of strength and beauty. A force of nature, a warrior and wizard, the pinnacle of celestial beauty and might. How he looked down on the lowly creatures below him and how he took joy in the hunt and smiting those who would bring evil and destruction to the beautiful places under his protection.
But that was so long ago, before he let his pride lead him to damnation. Before the wiles and words of the Queen of Air and Darkness led him, slowly, oh so slowly, to his doom. Before the Wild Hunt.
It had been many seasons since he woke on the streets of Sigil with little memory, broken, marked, shrunken... fallen. It had been as many years and more that he had been wandering the planes seeking absolution, maybe even redemption.
Perhaps it is this tower that will lead me back to the light he ponders as he observes it.
Tall, and Dark. Those would be the two words to describe this, fallen, version of Jorian. Tall, as he stands half again as tall as most humanoids he interacts with, and dark because black is his favored color. From the cloak about his shoulders, to the fine armor made from the black scales of a dragon (a pitiful young, yet evil, thing he killed long ago) to the long staff he leaned on casually, to the fine carven mask he nearly always wore upon his face. The mask, a leering, somewhat centaurlike skull capped by a short set of forward sweeping antlers, made from a polished material black as night. Black as he had let his soul become. His only bright color a sky blue gem adorning the staff, pulsing in an ominous fashion.
Tall and dark, yes. But handsome? No, that part of the cliche he does not fit. Companions who get the rare glimpse of his face see only a horror show of scars and scarred tissue, like a mummy made from tree bark. If one had the constitution and opportunity to observe his face in detail they would see features both elven and avian hidden amongst the creases and ridges of scar tissue, though his pale eyes hold no mirth and his ears are cropped near to his skull.
"Scout.. yes. That is wise.' he agrees in a whispered hiss that still hints a melodious tone, as if a renown singing voice gargled acid, "but I possess none of the magic you seek.'
The tiefling woman known widely as Kijo looks to the tower and then back at the group, eyes narrowed. While relatively short, she still cuts a fairly imposing figure. Fiery red coals smolder under stark white tresses, held up by a headband wrapped around two tall horns jutting up from her forehead. Wiry muscles ripple in her shoulders, back, and upper arms under pale blue skin. Her torso is clad in an intricately and anatomically sculpted mithral muscle cuirass, and judging by her arms the muscles are every bit as sculpted under the armor. If the gleaming chest piece is to be believed, her bust is every bit as bulging and impressive as her muscles. Over the armor she wears a very loose kimono with long sleeves, down off of her exposed shoulders. It droops very low in the back, exposing her back muscles as well as a small pair of black-feathered wings, each about the size of her hand. Currently obscuring these, however, is a large and roughly cut slab of ice, constantly slick with moisture but never melting. Two lengths of thick hemp rope embedded in the ice reveal it as an unusual shield. Below the kimono and a wide obi is a pleated garment reaching to mid-knee, somewhere between a hakama and a pair of culottes.
She carries a number of other odd accoutrement: A corked drinking gourd at her hip; a razor-sharp shard of glass as long as she is tall at her other hip, one end of which sports a handle wrapping like a lengthened katana. A tiny pair of glasses perches atop her nose, and a cracked cone of horn is bound to a thin iron chain about her neck, clanging against the mithral cleavage of her breastplate. A triangle-patterned rod sticks out from her obi, and low across her back hangs a pack wrapped round a large quiver, with over a dozen javelins and a naginata hanging out of the quiver. A rectangular lamp hangs from the naginata, glowing blue, green, red, and yellow from each of four faces. Her feet are clad in well-traveled shoes of all-stars, each inscribed with a blue pentagram.
She looks between the group members and nods at the decided course of action, not that her input matters. She concentrates silently for a moment, brows furrowed and bright blue tongue sticking out between sharp fangs, and briefly tags each member of the group on their chest with her thumb. Within moments, each of them ceases to leave footprints on the dusty earth that they stand on.
Kid Artemis blushes at the touch, and derides herself as ‘worse than a man’ for catching herself staring.
Okay, Aura… now I get why you felt boy-chested next to my aunt, she says silently to her goddess.
“Thank you, Suzuka,” she says (aloud, but softly) as she realizes what the spell does!
The tiefling, not used to such attention, blurts out "I...uhmm."
She nods.
Kid Artemis is surprised about how shy the oni is. She smiles warmly.
“Do you happen to know that Message spell I was talking about? I’m gonna scout ahead, and I might need someone to talk to. You’re soft spoken and a woman of few words, which is perfect.”
The Kid does a backflip—
—in flawless form, even the landing!
She lifts a boot, amused by its lacking imprint. “And so is this spell. No footprints!”
Timothy the Beautiful climbs off of his conjured steed and sidles up to Kid Artemis.
"I can spot you with a half hour of Light." Tim replies to Kid Artemis, casting the cantrip on a bit of fletching.
"These new powers sure do come in handy." He comments idly, having tapped into the erstwhile dormant magical energies in his blood only recently.
Tim, the Chosen One of Shelyn, stands six feet tall when he is off his high horse. His skin seems to be an unreasonably lustrous bronze tone, but otherwise shows no outward hints of his angelic ancestry. He has black eyes and his hair was likewise black, but is starting to gray. He wears an armor suit of cloth with an outer layer of brilliantly shining, hexagonal mithral plates. The sleeve on his left arm extends to his glove, but on the right side his sleeve is cut short at the bicep, exposing everything until his other glove. On his right forearm is a tattoo of a songbird, which he occasionaly touches idly with his left hand.
His shortbow isn't always visible, spending much of its time hidden in his Effecient Quiver. His Adamantine dagger's sheath and handle, however, are always clearly visible at his left hip. As he pulls out his darkwood shortbow and strings it, he says "Or- dear Suzuka- we can send Palla di Neve and you can relay his messages instead. That is- if you prefer hearing him to Kid Artemis."
Standing up straight and climbing back on his horse, Tim gives Suzuka a kind but expectant look and "Snowball" the "cat" sits up straight on the horses rump, also looking to her expectantly.
before this post
Daily Use Items
. 2/3 Rod of Extend, Lesser
. 3/3 Four-leaf Clover (+2 luck bonus on a single ability check, saving throw, or skill check)
Extraordinary Abilities
. 3/4 Martial FlexMartial Flex (plus arcane Arcane Strike & Combat Casting)
Supernatural Abilities
. 3/3 Smite EvilSmite Evil (swift; +5 attack & +7 damage; bypass all DR; double damage on first attack against undead/evil outsiders/evil dragons; net +4 bonus to AC)
. 8/8 Lay On HandsLay On Hands (3d6 hp + mercies)
. (2 uses of Lay on Hands) Channel Positive EnergyChannel Positive Energy (4d6 hp)
Spell-like Abilities
. 1/1 Daylight[url=https://aonprd.com/SpellDisplay.aspx?ItemName=Daylight]Daylight (or 1d8+5 CLW that deals half the amount healed in nonlethal to the caster)
. at will Detect Evil[url=https://aonprd.com/SpellDisplay.aspx?ItemName=Detect%20Evil]Detect Evil (or as a move action for the strength of a single person/item's aura within 60')
Paladin Spells Prepared:
. 2nd (1/day) Paladin's Sacrifice
. 1st (3/day) Hero's Defiance, Unbreakable Heart, Restoration, Lesser
Sorcerer Spells:
. 1st 3/5 Lucky Number, Mount
. cantrips (at will) Acid Splash, Light, Prestidigitation, Read Magic
"Y..you..can just, um...just call me K-Kijo like everyone else."
She lets the cat cast message while studiously examining her shoes.
Kid Artemis moves out, trusting the cat will relay messages. She peers into the darkness within the spire. She is suppressing the Light spell for now.
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When Kid Artemis starts moving out, Suzuka grabs the icy shield off of her back in one hand and draws the long 2-handed glass sword in her other hand to prepare for trouble. She holds the shield in a guard position and shouts (!)
The shield glows briefly with a blue inner light and a cool mist wafts from its surface.
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A centuries-old mechanical masterpiece of hexahedron clockwork and flesh bearing the serial number 11T7 dutifully marches behind Tim the Beautiful following him step for step. It wears a casual yet pragmatic shirt, robe, and slippers.
Soft whirring emanates from the modron as it rolls back onto its arms to survey the tower. Its telescopic eyes quickly shift and refocus on each detail.
One of 11T7's eyes swivels to watch Tim respond to Artemis's request. "Hierarchy approval assumed. Deploying Message." It casts Message on the party while still angled up at the tower to complete its observations.
11T7 turns to face Tim. "Authorization requested: assist other subordinates at will?" It cracks the slightest smile at the word 'subordinates.'
"'Granted', as always." Tim replies with a smile.
"Please remind her that my horse can go first, too." he adds.
"Into the tower." he explains.
Kid Artemis walks around the spire and sees another doorway, a square-set arch, open and empty, again nothing but darkness lies beyond. When you bring the light close to the darkness nothing penetrates it.
If you have some sense such as darkvision that allows you to see in the darkness it is similarly defeated.
Kid Artemis' eagle eyes allows her to see the faint outline of a closed doorway in the stone, although it is 10 feet off the ground. And above that a line of writing which she cannot make out from her vantage.
Suzuka concentrates for a few seconds and then walks over to join Kid Artemis when it's clear that there's no immediate threat. She'll walk up the wall, examine the area for traps, then examine the script if she doesn't find any traps.
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Kid Artemis reports her findings to 11T7, but before she has time to ask of next steps, Suzuka struts by… and up!
The Kid just gapes, eyes wide as her slack jaw.
It’s not just her breasts that defy gravity.
Jorian simply leans on his staff and watches, content in his silence and unaffected by the pheromones bombarding the rest of this excitable group.
Except the modron, it seemed solid.
Suzuka easily ascends the tower despite near horizontal walls and dust making the surface exceptionally slippery. The inscription reads in celestial, "The secrets found within are not for those above." With a closer look, you find below the inscription but above the door, a stone panel which could be removed if she had something to pry it with. She also notices the faint smell of something coming from the door, garlic, in this context some sort of poison gas will be expelled should she try to open the door.
Three elves are approaching the tower. Tall and lithe, they're almost invisible amid Pelion's pale dust, with skin like chiseled alabaster, long hair like spun wool, and eyes that are completely white. A chalky tunic hangs from their taut frame, covering suits of bleached leather.