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Thereus pushes back the gnawing thoughts of his brother and sister on the front lines at Gallowspire to engage the conversation.
"As to our previous mission, Eylysia and Grandmaster Torch have been collaborating against the Decemvirate, but it seems that they have only been doing this to out this true threat to the Society."
"As to our previous mission, Eylysia and Grandmaster Torch have been collaborating against the Decemvirate, but it seems that they have only been doing this to out this true threat to the Society."
“When her notes resurfaced several years ago, Eylysia’s name became quite commonplace in the Society. I understand she was chased out under ill circumstances—likely framed. It seems she and Torch did have similar concerns about the Decemvirate.”
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"Those damned helms were a stupid idea from the very start," says Fletch. "The Decemvirate absolutely invited this attack. How many times have Pathfinders gotten into someone's 'impregnable hidden fortress' because we disguised ourselves as someone in the organization? This is 'Organizational Security 101' stuff. When this is over, the membership needs to have a very serious talk with the Decemvirate. Business as usual is getting members killed."
"But we didn't come to talk politics. We need to take the fight to Vahlo before the Tyrant brings it to us."
"Those damned helms were a stupid idea from the very start,"
”Well, the Decemvirate were not always masked; it was only after specific members became targeted by Pathfinders that did not agree with their decisions that the Ten began utilizing the decemvirate helms for their own safety.”
When this is over, the membership needs to have a very serious talk with the Decemvirate. Business as usual is getting members killed."
”I certainly agree,” Eliza sighs. ”As much as I wish to not admit it, perhaps Grandmaster Torch’s Shadow Lodge was onto something when it came to the Decemvirate. Speaking of the information broker, you mentioned him before. Why is that? Is Torch connected to all of this?”
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Thereus pushes back the gnawing thoughts of his brother and sister on the front lines at Gallowspire to engage the conversation.
"As to our previous mission, Eylysia and Grandmaster Torch have been collaborating against the Decemvirate, but it seems that they have only been doing this to out this true threat to the Society."
Anariel looks openly sceptical. Oh yes, sure, there's absolutely no way that Torch could have been using Eylysia to feed false information to us. She might have believed what she was talking about but that does't make it true. I am still inclined to turn him into a hatstand when we finally track him down.
She turns to Eliza. Torch is here, somewhere in the city. Apparently he is planning to try and take down Vahlo and get up to the gods know what else if he gets into Skyreach. Do you have a plan to deal with him?
Torch is here, somewhere in the city. Apparently he is planning to try and take down Vahlo and get up to the gods know what else if he gets into Skyreach. Do you have a plan to deal with him?
”I believe it. But even if you’re right, there must be something more going on to justify his closing the doors. Let there be no doubt, though: Torch’s infiltration could cause untold damage to the Society’s property, personnel, and reputation, and his gambit might have even deeper ramifications.”
"With undead of this strength they may be hard to kill. Do we have an idea the the type of process that would have been used to maintain Vahlo's life."
”The possibilities are too vast; we don’t have enough information to pin that down.”
Eliza sighs as she rises from the chair she is sitting in and begins pacing around the table, deep in thought.
“I know that learning about what might be happening in the Grand Lodge isn’t comforting. We have two possible threats: Grandmaster Torch and this rogue Decemvirate member Vahlo. They’re both dangerous, but where we know that Torch is engaged in mischief, Vahlo’s schemes are certainly more malevolent. The plan’s largely the same: get into the Grand Lodge, pave the way for possible reinforcements, reestablish control of the campus, keep an eye out for survivors, identify what’s going on, and put a stop to any devious plans. If he’s among the most senior of the Ten, Vahlo knows the ins and outs of the whole Grand Lodge, as well as how to access its most powerful secrets and artifacts. What he’s secured might provide clues as to what he’s planning and where to intercept him.
“Last thing: until and unless I think we don’t have any other choice, we’re keeping this quiet. The Society’s accumulated many evil artifacts, vile secrets, and other skeletons best kept buried deep in our closets where they’re safe. If Vahlo and Torch are parading those around, Absalom’s guards would be as likely to misinterpret and condemn the Society as fight alongside us. Our aim is to solve Pathfinder problems with Pathfinders, not get the Society kicked out of the city.
“There’s little time to waste. Any questions?”
”Unfortunately, I can’t risk providing you all with any help with my magic; I’ll be stationing and coordinating the other Pathfinders outside the Grand Lodge, contacting the Pathfinders in Ustalav for any possible reinforcements, and putting a few city officials on alert in case things get out of control here. If it seems you have control of the main campus, I can in some of these agents to help keep control. As for defenses…”
Eliza stops in her tracks as she begins softly chewing at the knuckle of her pointer finger in deep thought, as if trying to remember something. She snaps her fingers and rushes into the back of the Wounded Wisp. She returns a minute later carrying a massive, rolled-up tube of parchment. She unfurls it to reveal a map of the Grand Lodge that she sets on the table before her.
”The Grand Lodge is meant to become a defendable stronghold if needed, and the front gate is its main method of protection. The walls around the Lodge, as well as the front gate, are 30 feet tall and 10 feet thick, are made of a special steel that is an iron and adamantine alloy. Now, the most obvious method of entry is simple flight, however if I am to send in reinforcements to maintain control, we’ll need a more consistent method of getting inside, because casting fly on the fifty-some-odd Pathfinders still remaining in Absalom is not exactly an efficient use of our resources—most of those that remain can’t even cast the spell.”
”Not a trap, but there’s a hell of a lock on it.”
”Very well, then. We do not have the privilege to dawdle more than we must; is there anything else we need to cover right here and now?”
Eliza bows her head. ”Godspeed, Pathfinders.”
*
The Seekers then return to the front of the Grand Lodge, the massive closed gates an imposing sight.
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Anariel grins at the gates and extacts a variety of tools from her pack. With a flicker her body shifts and changes as she turns into a vaguely humanoid form of solidified air before turning herself invisible. Floatng up to the doors she carefully examines them.
Assuming it looks safe she starts to work on the lock.
If that doesnt pass she scowls and mutters a spell, casting Bestow Insight to improve her channces.
If that doesnt work she scowls some more and sits down to take a really good crack at them.
Anariel spends an insane amount of time picking at the lock of the Grand Lodge and only barely manages to get it open and when the Seekers open the gate, they find the haven of the Pathfinder Society in complete and total chaos:
Black smoke billows from the windows of Starhall. The occasional flicker of flame is visible from inside the domed tower.
A lone Pathfinder scratches at the door of the Center House with a shortsword.
Several small groups of Pathfinders are between different structures, with some emerging carrying documents and items. Some of these Pathfinders appear to be moving objects between buildings, while others appear to be departing the Grand Lodge entirely whether by flight or teleportation. Most notably is a group exiting Skyreach carrying several armsfull of binders and folders, as well as a second group carrying bags of relics from the Water Palace.
Skeletons and zombies usher forth from the Mausoleum in a constant flow. The undead spread across the Grand Lodge, causing bedlam in their wake.
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Aha, got the stupid thing she shouts as the last tumbler falls into place. I always knew a disreputble life as a Pathfinder would help me out later in life...
As the doors swing open she mouths, Oh dear, that's not good. She pauses and glances back to the group, Do the rest of you see that lot lurking in the shrubbery?
Well, it looks like the Grand Lodge is a mess, where shall we start people?
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Targets of the spell gain a +2 sacred bonus on Bluff, Perception, Sense Motive, and Survival checks attempted against creatures of the selected type, and a +2 sacred bonus on attack rolls and damage rolls made against creatures of that type.
Furthermore, they gain a +2 sacred bonus on initiative checks, Perception, Stealth, and Survival checks while they are in the type of terrain you designate.
"Let's fixes things in the order we uncover them. That said where there is smoke there is fire. I think we may have limited to to deal with that one."
Starhall’s doors are locked, but as Venture-Captains, Xanaphia and Thereus actually have keys to the doors of Starhall.
As the Pathfinders climb Starhall, they find shelves upon shelves of books in flames! Following the carnage, they eventually come across a creature: a seven-foot-tall humanoid devoid of a mouth and a pair of massive flaming wings that match the blaze of the longsword in its hand.
The humanoid with flaming wings moves down the halls of Starhall, snapping its fingers to teleport a codex to its hand, briefly skim through the book, then igniting it aflame and tossing it over its shoulder before moving on to the next book.
The Humanoid glances up at Grognar, shuts the book it was reading, and points its blazing sword at the half-orc.
”Who are you to question my duty as an agent of the heavenly host?”
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"I would not question your duty just ask that you consider helping those below you becuase without their works there would be no books for you to burn nor good one for you to protect. My ask is an appeal to goodness to prevent death, and to preserve life and knowledge the knowledge of what is good."
”You clearly know not what I am. I am the Unnamed, censor of the 1593rd battalion of the heavenly host—the censoring of texts is my duty and is my task for being called to the Material Plane.”
The Unnamed lowers the jolt of its sword but keeps its flaming tip situated inches from the half-orc’s Adam’s apple.
”Of course my mission stands against that! That is why I am destroying the texts: to prevent their misuse by the machinations of evil.”
The Unnamed, ignoring Fletch, stares Grognar in the eye almost absentmindedly.
”Defending texts...such a thing is anathema to the duty of an exscinder. But...I am an archon first and an exscinder second.” The Unnamed lowers its blade from the half-orc’s neck. ”I shall defend these texts with my life.”
The flame-winged archon turns to Fletch. ”My apologies for my rudeness; I was called here on the will of a contract drafted between myself and five of the Decemvirate four years ago.”
”But it seems we do not have the time for idle talk,” The archon gazes out of a nearby window at the chaos ensuing below.
As the Pathfinders make their way towards the Mausoleum, their advance is halted when an illusory image appears before them: the image of a woman wearing a rune-inlaid ivory mask adorned with peacock feathers, blood-red crystalline tears, and silver rings.
”Greetings, Seekers,” The woman says. ”I am a member of the Decemvirate.”
”I have been monitoring the situation both here and at Gallowspire. Based on the circumstances in the Grand Lodge, I have theorized that the Decemvirate of the triple-spired helm has gone rogue and poses a threat to the Society. However, the situation in Ustalav is dire—if agents were to be called to retreat and help you all, the mission to stop the Whispering Tyrant’s ritual could well fail, triggering a catastrophe that could kill a large percentage of the Pathfinder Society’s agents as well as an untold number of other innocents. I’m sorry, but you’re on your own. Nevertheless, I believe in you, and the future of our organization may well lie in your hands.”
Shemis, I'm glad to see you're alive.
Shemis visibly winces and immediately buries her masked face in one of her hands. She sighs as she looks up toward Grognar and Anariel.
”Please keep that particular piece of information to yourselves; the Decemvirate, despite the current circumstances, still run on a foundation of anonymity.” Despite the lack of eyeholes in the mask, Fletch feels the Decemvirate member’s glare falling upon him.