You have gathered in the Varisian ctiy of Riddleport - directed to meet with your fellow agents by Venture Captain Sheila Hedimarch, who furnished you with a letter and the names of those fellow agents, along with a small stipend intended to pay for passage onwards, and a map showing the location of a Shoanti village in the Calphiak Mountains.
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A midsized dude in a dark green cloak, hood pulled up to conceal his face, enters the Publican House and checks out the room...
...not perceiving any of his fellow agents present yet, he glides to the bar, orders an ale, and finds a table in the back from which he can keep an eye on the door and observe...
Myth takes a hit on his ale, thinking, This might be a long wait...
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Just outside the bar, a cloaked figure reads over the dispatch once more. Tucking the communique away, the large form double checks the large-headed axe strapped to his back. Assured everything is in place, he enters the Publican House. Ignoring the noise for the moment, Malaz heads directly to the bar.
Catching the bartender's eye, "Ale, something Cayden would be proud of."
The barkeep nods, 'Yeah yeah buddy. Let's see your gold first.'
Unseen by the others, a wide smile forms on the aphorite's lips. He pulls back the hood, letting it fall back. A quiet laugh. "I think I'm good for it."
The bar comes to a standstill as all eyes turn toward the bald man made of gold. There is a mirror-like sheen to his skin, and light dances as it reflects off of him. Malaz looks around the room, contemptuous eyes daring anyone to comment. He tosses down a few coins when his drink arrives. He wipes down the edge of the stein before taking a sip, still looking side to side. It is not until after he takes a large swallow and sets down the mug that the typical chatter resumes.
He nods toward the man in the green hood. The occultist saunters toward the table at the back of the bar. He leans against the rough stucco wall but says nothing for a minute as he continues to drink. Without looking to the side, "You're the only one who didn't stare, so I'm assuming you're either blind or knew I was coming." He offers a hand, "Malaz. And you?"
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This Tien-Min woman towers above even many of the men. Her eyes are pools of constant, harsh golden glow. She bears an uncanny resemblance to a Tian-Xia depiction of Iomedae and wears full-plate of Mendevian make, but she wears the holy symbol of Shizuru and has a katana sheathed at her side.
She sits down at the table with the Mythryndyr and Malaz, then pulls out a piece of paper, a vial of ink, and an inkbrush, laying them out delicately in front of her.
With fluid, dancing brushstrokes, she begins writing. Several moments later, she stops. She puts away the inkbrush, the vial of ink, but holds the paper. She stands and places it in front of the other two.
It reads:
"Pathfinders gather
Look to the Publican House
Thassilon awaits"
She folds her arms and looks down at the seated agents. "If you know of what the word before you refer to, know that I am Ayo of the Radiant Eyes, humble servant of the Princess of Mendev, and I have been sent to fight with you by ten faces behind masks."
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"Of course this is the Publican House Harold, I can find my way around anywhere. Sometimes it just takes me a few minutes to get oriented, stop by the market, grab a few neat snacks while we're there, then BAM! Right where I said we'd end up." Says a particularly hairy man as he pushes open the tavern door. A very patient looking Dwarf in a plaid shirt and a jeweler's loop around his neck follows close behind.
"Dis Ms Heidmarch give a description of these fellows you were supposed to meet or are we just going to look around for whoever looks most out of place Besides you of course. like usual?" As he says this he looks up to see the triplet of an Elf, a Tian, and a man made of gold. All armed to the teeth.
"I believe that's our table over there..." The Dwarf points, spinning his curious companion in the proper direction.
"Oh, thanks Harold. My, what a crew this seems to be!" Says the man as he approaches the others, focused intently on the golden man. "Are you an Aphorite? What plane is that again? Do you find people ask you many questions about your golden skin?" He starts steaming full on ahead into Dale mode before Harold nudges him, returning his manners.
"Oh, ya. Sorry. I'm Dale and this here is my faithful friend and fellow geologist Harold." Dale smiles and offers a handshake to everyone as he does. Dale seems to be a human man but with an absurd amount of hair on almost all of his exposed skin. He wears a cloak and traveling garb and with closer inspection a fine suit of mithril chain.
He takes a seat, as does Harold, and looks around for a menu "You haven't ordered yet have you? Just drinks so far? Do they have diet coke?" He squints and scans the room and table to signs of cola.
"You haven't ordered yet have you? Just drinks so far? Do they have diet coke?" He squints and scans the room and table to signs of cola.
Just then, a server passes the table and looks over: "Coke? Is that Andoran? We don't have it. We've got dandelion & burdock if you like. Ice and a slice?"
"D&B all round then. We have meatloaf sir, certainly. Made with wild boar from the Mierani forest. But if you want really wild, I highly recommend the chimera steaks, sir, served with shrieker sauce; expensive, but worth it at twice the price!"
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Are you an Aphorite?
"Yes."
What plane is that again?
"Axis, but my parents hail from Magnimar."
Do you find people ask you many questions about your golden skin?"
"Yes. Many of the creative ones actually ask for my nail clippings."
He starts steaming full on ahead into Dale mode before Harold nudges him, returning his manners.
"S'alright. I'm used to a few questions."
His eyes perk up at the mention of dandelion & burdock. Something new? Urgotha be praised.
We have meatloaf sir, certainly. Made with wild boar from the Mierani forest.I highly recommend the chimera steaks, sir, served with shrieker sauce.
Shrieker sauce? Malaz tongue begins to water. "Why not both? One of each please."
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A gnome with stark white hair and a youthful face enters the tavern.
He looks down at a note, and then up at the eclectic crew at the bar. He then looks around the room for any other tables that might have a group of mission-ready pathfinders. Not finding another promising candidate he looks back to the bar and walks over.
Hello, I am Arin. I trust you also received a letter from Ms. Heidmarch?
Although his words carry a warm tone, he seems to keep a constant, stoic expression on his face that never matches any emotion therein.
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"D&B all round then. We have meatloaf sir, certainly. Made with wild boar from the Mierani forest. But if you want really wild, I highly recommend the chimera steaks, sir, served with shrieker sauce; expensive, but worth it at twice the price!"
"Mmmm sign me up for that, with maybe a meat loaf sandwich to go?" Dale stands and greets the two newcomers with an introduction and a handshake. His hands are quite scarred and pocked, nails are discolored with stains and dirt.
So many new faces and new races!
You dine on meatloaf and chimera steaks, washed down with herby, bubbling, dandelion & burdock. If the food made your mouths water, the bill makes your eyes water! And accordingly, instead of travelling in relative comfort on a large, well-armed merchant vessel, your reduced travel budget sees you rowing a battered galley up the Varisian coast for the next week, until you reach the Shoanti settlement that Shelia Heidmarch's map directs you to....
DC15
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DC25
....The sound of crashing waves and seabirds mixes with the smell and cool spray of saltwater at the entrance of a wide, low sea cave open to the Varisian Gulf. A bustling community is hard at work in the dim morning light: tall, tattooed men and women clean and fillet fish, while others toss crustaceans into pots; a group of older children sit in a circle on the sand near the water’s edge and repair nets and harpoons; nearby, several women are busily patching holes in a small boat.
“This is not a sight very many outsiders ever see, Pathfinders,” says a tall, muscular woman. Her head is shaved and tattoos line her shoulders, arms, and neck. “But we are pleased you have come. Kel-grish! Welcome! Let us walk.”
“I am Tide Watcher, the jothka of this tribe,” she says, as she leads the way onto a small path heading up the hill above the cave. “As you probably know, the Shoanti do not often call upon outsiders for help. But this is a special circumstance.” She stops atop the hill and takes a deep breath of the wind blowing off the water before turning to the hills and mountains to the north.
“A few weeks ago I stood watch on this spot, minding both the water and the land. Suddenly a plume of flame rose into the air in the hills there.” She points slightly northwest. “I took a group of warriors to investigate. When traveling down familiar caverns, we soon found a place where the floor had recently collapsed into another series of tunnels that had smooth, worked walls. Then we found the stone door. It flickered with flame and was deeply carved with the runes we know to be the language of Thassilon.” She pauses, a sour look on her face. “It is forbidden to explore places marked with these runes, so I thought it best to simply try to collapse the cave entrance and be done. But then I saw the door was open. Something had either got in or gone out. I sent word to our allies in Magnimar of what we’d found. I contacted Sheila Heidmarch specifically because I have heard that under her direction, the Pathfinders have made fair dealings with the Shoanti, laid the spirit of an ancient symbol of peace to rest, and stopped a Runelord from rising once again.
"Five days ago, a priest named Julian arrived from Magnimar and claimed he could seal the door. He worships a good god of monuments, he said, and was confident he could succeed. I have not seen him since, however, so I do not know what has happened.”
Tide Watcher turns to the group. “Pathfinders, I want you to learn the nature of this place beyond the door and determine if it is a threat to my tribe. If it is within your ability to eliminate it, do so. If not, we will discuss closing off the cave entrance permanently. Do you have any questions?”
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Dale looks up sheepishly as the bill is brought.
As the others take turns rowing, Dale takes turns in coaching proper rowing technique as well as filling the group in on what he knows of the Shoanti People.
"Many Shoanti men and women feel that long hair is a dangerous liability in battle and thus shave their heads. They also have tattoos over much of their bodies. And when I say much, I mean EVERYWHERE." He raises an eyebrow conspicuously.
He continues as Hskoro takes up the oars "There are seven quahs, or clans, each of which has numerous tribes as constituent parts. Each is led by a tribal leader called a jothka. They are pretty progressive, women can be Tribal leaders as well." Dale pulls out the last of that meatloaf sandwich (its been a few days), flicks off a bit of mold on the bread then finishes it.
"Historians are suspicious of the fact that there are seven quahs of Shoanti, seven realms of Thassilon, and seven points on the Sihedron. Some speculate that the Shoanti were either servants or slaves of the Runelords in ancient times, and their taboo against exploring Thassilonian ruins comes from that relationship." Dale later adds, in a bit of a hushed tone. "I wouldn't bring this up, these guys are usually pretty beefy and can get REALLY angry if you say anything out of line. Please be very polite and straight forward." And with that his blood sugar gets a bit high and he takes a nap.
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Dale nods stoically as the jothka welcomes them off the 'ship'. Dale is slow to move through, admiring the species of fish caught as well as the traditional fishing tools the tribal members are putting to use. "When we fix this problem I'd really like some time to speak with people of your tribe. I've always been a bit of a history hound and would love to learn of your people." He offers a traditional greeting before heading up the hill, his brain excited about the talk of Thassilon. "My name is Dale and this here is Harold" Pointing to his flanneled Dwarven companion. Then introduces anyone else in the group that may be too shy to do it themselves.
"In case anyone is unaware, Thassilon was an empire that ended some 10,000 years ago in what is now Varisia. The seven-pointed star, called the Sihedron, is a commonly seen motif in Thassilonian art." Dale stops and uses his finger to draw one in the dirt to show everyone, then quickly erasing it so to not offend Tide Watcher.
"There were seven realms in Thassilon, each controlled by a powerful practitioner of magic called a runelord. Each treated his or her own realm as a kingdom onto itself. This area of Varisia was likely in the kingdom known as Bakrakhan, domain of wrath, ruled by Runelord Alaznist. Runelord Krune recently attempted to rise again, but the Pathfinder Society stymied his efforts." Dale speaks like a man well educated in his history, but wait, there's more!
"Each Runelord was associated with a sin and tied to a school of magic: envy to abjuration, gluttony to necromancy, greed to transmutation, lust to enchantment, pride to illusion, sloth to conjuration, and wrath to evocation. Thassilon came to an end in the great cataclysm known as Earthfall, but it is suspected the Runelords all had preparations in place that would allow them to survive, perhaps even until the present day." Dale speaks to the group in a serious tone on this, unsure who may know about this.
"If indeed this was the realm of the Runelord of Wrath, then we can expect evocation magic to be prevalent.. like that spout of flames you saw Tide Watcher. Let's hope Julian was well read and took the proper precautions." Says Dale as he remembers he needs to prepare his extracts for the coming exploration.
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Arin listens intently to Tide Watcher, and waits his turn to react and inquire.
Thank you, Tide Watcher, for the summary and for your trust in the Society. We don't take that lightly. Did Julian give you any indication how long his process would take? I'm curious if five days is truly too long and indicates something is amiss. I'm not familiar with his god of monuments and how their faithful work.
After a pause, he adds.
Otherwise, I think our task is clear. Very much unlike Julian, I am entirely at odds with my divine abilities and am unaware of their origin. I'm often looking for opportunities to discover the source in my various adventures. Perhaps learning more about Thassilon, or better yet encountering some of its lingering power, will help shed light on my condition. That is, of course, a little hopeful and it is not very likely that they are related.
While his face remains expressionless, something warm in his voice conveys that his spirit truly does yearn to discover the source of his curse and powers.
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Malaz confirms the alchemist's take on things. "I can't say I disagree with Dale's assessment. The Thassilonians were steeped in arcane tradition."
I guess I should be thankful this has nothing to do with Gluttony. The Pallid Princess may take issue with that. Not that I am very devout, but no need for unnecessary risks.
"Five days may be too long, especially if he wasn't planning on staying in there. Sounds as if he was travelling pretty light. Doubt if he had a week of food with him." He looks over the group. "How are we on protection from fire and the like? I can protect myself for a few moments."
"Yes." says Tide Watcher, addressing nobody in particular. "You seem well-informed. This is good. Julian did not say how long he would need, nor did he discuss his methods."
Tide Watcher looks down, directly at Arin. "It is to be hoped that your powers do not stem from Thassilon. Nothing wholesome comes from that lost empire."
"Are you ready? It is time we headed to the ruins."
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"Quite the selection of wildlife in these parts actually. Well I must admit that the fauna near the coast likely will differ from that found underground, unless of course we come across some salt water intrusions." Dale looks to Harold about the likelihood of such intrusions but he responds with just a shoulder shrug.
“The stories I have heard tell of ancient magical traps and creatures, but I have no deep knowledge of these things." Tide Watcher answers Myth's question. Then Dale casually provides you with an encyclopaedic description of the sea-birds of northwestern Varisia, as well as various aquatic dangers, but concludes that so long as one is not a fish there is probably little danger from the local wildlife. (Northwestern Varisian fish, on the other hand, have well below average life expectancies).
Tide Watcher leads you on a short hike, a half-mile north of her village. You arrive at a makeshift camp outside a cave entrance guarded by several Shoanti warriors. The warriors greet Tide Watcher, and after a brief conversation she tells you that the scouts here have not been inside the cave recently, nor have they seen the priest Julian since he entered.
Tide Watcher gives you a roughly drawn map. "Follow this route through the caves. It will bring you to the door. The rest is up to you, Pathfinders."
The cave entrance is pitch black.
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"The albatross colonies are extremely impressive!" Are the last words of the half mile lesson on Varisian sea birds Dale recites as the group arrives at the guard post and cave entrance.
Before heading inside Dale looks around the exterior for anything that may be hidden clues left behind from either Julian or Thassilonian markings from WAY back.
He pulls a glowing stone from his pack and sets it to orbit about his head, providing the light of a torch in his immediate radius. "Sometimes I do wish I had a bit of orcish blood in my veins, or should I say eyes." He chuckles. "That didn't sound right, I've already had orcish blood splashed on my eyes this one time down south, a very messy business with the Aspis."
Dale accepts the map and quickly takes out his own journal and makes a copy of it inside under this new mission's heading. "Can't be too careful with maps you know. The more the merrier!" He then adds in a rough sketch and description of the site, including weather conditions, wind direction, season, dominant plant communities, soil types and as many bird calls as he can muster before the group leaves him behind.
"Wait up, I still haven't gotten these fine warriors names yet!" He makes his way in behind the others, Harold now toting a basket full of rocks, weeds, and unidentified detritus.
Dale gets completely sidetracked by a sample of rare "Lamia's Hair" lichen on the rock-face outside the cave entrance, but the rest of you can see that the caves are narrow, winding and cramped. Nothing larger than an armoured nagaji could get through - and even then, all of you except for Arin are going to have to stoop or crawl at times.
No tracks are to be seen.
You enter the caves, dragging Dale along with you. After several hundred feet of twisting, turning, cramped passageways, the caverns here begin to widen somewhat. Broken arrows and short, makeshift swords litter the ground, and a rotting corpse lies slumped in a corner. Blood, now dried, is splattered on many of the rocks nearby. The passage continues to the east.
DC17
There were two groups of goblins, and the larger group fled back to the west while the rest continued east.
Heal DC15
The goblin died two to three weeks ago from a combination of stab wounds and burns.
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"HAROLD! Get the press quick, did you see that lichen? We've got to document it.. for posterity of course." He pulls out his hand lens and takes a closer look, or at least tries to until he's being dragged away like a shy boy at his first prom "But wait, I'm not ready!!"
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While the trip through the tunnels seem to be annoying to most, Dale has the greatest time. He's spent large amount of time on his hands and knees studying all manner of flora and fauna on ground level, not to mention 'ground'. He takes the opportunity to keep a wide eye on the uniqueness of the cavern floor. "Hey is that blood?" He dabs a finger in and tastes.. "Yup, sure tastes like it. We should grab a sample." Harold looks at him in disbelief, already carrying as many rocks as a dwarf can.. which is a lot.
He follows the blood to a corpse and raises an eyebrow "Huh, a goblin... died like most goblins do.. stabbed and burned." He looks up at the others "Our Pathfinder associate wasn't a goblin was he?" He drags out his journal to double check if he wrote down the man's race or not.
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Hskoro grumbles and hisses in irritation and frustration as they move through the narrow path. His armor often scraping up against the sides and wedging him on a few occasions that required him to pull or push himself through.
Finally arriving on the other side and examines the body and signs of battle with the others. "Hmm... goblins. Easier to kill but sometime can be tricky. But wonder what they are doing here."
He heads down a few feet of the east passage while the rest continue to examine the scene. Guarding them and waiting for when they are ready to move on.
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The aphorite chuckles to himself, The dirty one with all of the hair is quite committed to his work.
Before venturing further, Malaz focuses his mind.
"Myth, anyway to tell which way the priest went, Julian? Did we ever get a title or anything? No matter."
With a nod of acknowledgment toward Hskoro, "As far as threats to the Shoanti go, I can't imagine either of these groups being large enough to cause them to lose any sleep. Still, their presence in disconcerting."
He then scans the area for any residual magic.
Malaz senses no magic but that which you brought with you,
Tide Watcher's rudimentary map has you heading east, after the smaller group of goblins. If she's right, then Julian also headed in that direction. Any tracks he left will be difficult to pick up amongst the goblin trails, even though he will have travelled after them.
Another hundred feet or so to the east from the battle site, you come upon a collapsed passageway: the floor has fallen away. Fortuitously, the collapsed rock forms a convenient ramp that is easy to navigate. Tide Watcher's map, and the goblin tracks, lead you downwards.
The lower passageway twists away to the left after another 100 feet, and soon opens out into a wider room.
Dim, flickering light illuminates a natural chamber roughly 30 feet by 10 feet. Stalactites cling to the ceiling and a few stalagmites rise from the floor. The air is damp and clammy. At the eastern end of the room stands a 10-foot-wide double door set into the wall. Flames flicker about the columns and lintel, casting the spiky, spidery runes covering the surfaces into sharp relief. The doors are partially open.
A human male sits cross-legged in front of the door, facing it. He mumbles a chant.
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Dale looks through the tracks as Myth points them out, he nods in agreement before going into the intricacies of how you determine a small track such as this from that of say a kobold or a halfling. "Besides the size, which is obvious, notice the bare feet, no claws, and most importantly the smell of pickles. Goblin feet smell disturbingly like pickles..." He adds that last bit in with a smile while Harold rolls his eyes at the mistruth.
Dale points out another set of tracks in the jumbled mess "Oh that's probably Julian right there. Notice the Berkinstock trademark in that print?" Dale pulls his ioun torch closer to it, then wrinkles his nose at the smell of decade old berks.
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As they reach the ramp Dale points out the rocks and their recent cleaving "This is only a few weeks old wouldn't you agree Harold? That probably lines up with the Shoanti description?" He lingers, checking for any interesting veins, or tries too but is distracted by the chanting sound. "Oh, who's this I wonder..."
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Coming to the door, the occultist unslings his over-sized ax. He reades the ancient script. "Bakrakhan! Well, we are in the right place." He nods to the chanting man, "I would guess that is our missing priest."
What is he muttering on about?
Certain he will find something this time, Malaz again searches for magic auras.
The human is chanting in a mixture of common and celestial. He seems to be importuning and entity named Soralyon to ward the Thassilonian portal.
There are faint magic auras emanating from the flames around the columns on either side of the doors. There is a moderate magic aura in the gap between the doors. Attempt a Knowledge (arcana) check.
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The human looks exhausted. He sees you, and stops chanting. He rises unsteadily to his feet. "Are - are you real? Or am I imagining you? I am Julian, a priest of Soralyon. Did He send you to me?"
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Ignoring the priest for the moment, Malaz studies the variuos energies at work.
"Obviously, there are magical protections placed on the door. Though I am not certain about the flames, there is an evocation aura in the seams of the door. There is a barrier of force sealing the portal, in addition to the magical flames designed to burn without fuel."
Looking down at the Julian, Malaz offers him a hand up. "I assure you we are quite real. Though I should guess a hallucination would say that in any case. If your god hired the Pathfinders, then yes, he sent us. Otherwise, we are here at the behest of the Shoanti people to determine any possible threats." He offers his water bag. "You've been gone nearly a week. Have you been here this entire time?"
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"Looks like those goblins come together, had a disagreement, then some continued and some went back. At least we won't have to wrangle the entire tribe, I don't have enough bombs for that." He counts out 11 on his person.
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Dale takes a quick look at the man and from his clothes and reference to Solralyon indeed is Julian "Hello Julian, odd to see you without your rum and cola." Chuckles the hairy man as a trailer park flashes in the back of his mind.
"Yup, Pathfinders, or as I like to call myself: an investigative scholar named Dale." He tips his tricorner hat to the man and gives him a look over for scurvy and undernourishment.
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[The human is chanting in a mixture of common and celestial. He seems to be importuning and entity named Soralyon to ward the Thassilonian portal.
Julian, have you been doing this the whole time that you've been here?! Do you need some food?
Arin fishes a day ration out of his pack and offers it to Julian.