'...ahem...'
It had only been a single day since he had clashed with the screaming demons, fighting with their mad blood rage and insane will to live, clawing their way out of that tearing rift to the abyss. The otherworldly cries of the demons had made his ears ring for hours even after the rift was closed, but it was the screams of the dying humans and their allies around him that continued to pervade his mind.
'...AHEM...'
Everon gives a defeated sigh. Seems that's all he's doing these days. He sits up, dismissing the invisibility with a pained expression. The creatures of the forest all bolt at his sudden appearance. He watches them go sadly.
'I was hoping for a longer break. That rift took several days to close, and despite the healing magic the wounds DO still ache for a while.' There is no hope or confidence in his thoughts. He knew that Zaphiel could see his mind clear as day, even past the direct thoughts and into his emotions and unspoken psyche. Still, it was the only being he had been able to consistently interact with for decades. Why not at least attempt some banter?
He wearily takes up the helmet, slipping it back over his head, and awaits Zaphiel's response.
"Five friends take shelter from a storm in an abandoned mine. What could possibly go wrong?"
"The answer might be found through that secret door there."
Everon is surprised to see not the towering figure of the solar before him, but the slight figure of gnomish female. She stands with her shoulders back, her head straight, the very epitome of confidence and contentment. The smile on her face is slightly impish, but the glowing tattoos that swirl about her skin speak only of arcane power. Her hair is a violent tangle of red and violet, held back by a simple leather thong.
She is, however, very obviously not alive...
"Master...Everon, is it?" the spirit says. "I was told I could find you here."
There is a well-hidden door exactly where Tomaru points. However, it is locked, and the door and walls around it have been strongly reinforced.
Everon stops, caught off guard. He stammers for a moment, wholly unprepared to speak to anybody other than Zaphiel. But he finds his voice. "Erm, yes. Everon." He frowns, tearing through his mind for knowledge on such a being.
Everon's mind races further through all the evil enemies he had made over the decades. Was she some kind of necromancer he had put down? Perhaps a demon-binder? Or a protégé or family member come looking for revenge? He stands warily for a moment, but internally he shakes his head. Would she really have asked for my attention instead of attacking while I appeared to be sleeping? Come now, use your head.
"Yes, I am Master Everon. Who are you, and why do you seek me?"
"That looks hazardous to break open. I can get us past." Tomaru offers to cast Dimension Door.
"Well then hello and well met Master Everon! A friend of yours sent me to find you when I asked if he knew of anyone who may be able to help me. A bit gruff, and far too serious for me. He seemed quite glad to send me on my way once he heard my story..." the gnome muses, half to you and half to herself.
Quickly she comes back to the conversation. "My name is Aurora. Aurora Ulfurdottir. No doubt you have NOT heard of me, and that's ok!" she says with a smile. "But I have some friends who are very dear to me - one in particular - who are in great peril. They face an evil not seen on Golarion for ten thousand years, in the form of the Runelord Zarzoug."
"Your friend said you would help..."
A strained smile flashes his face when she mentions his 'gruff' friend. For a moment he considered the possibility that Zaphiel was sending somebody else to talk with him so he didn't have to waste his time on the old elf. But...no, it was unlikely. The sheer power coming off this gnome, it was one that could rival his own, and she was not a servant of the heavens. More likely he just approved of her seeking for help and saw fit to let her ask him directly.
A sympathetic smile comes to his face, but it is quickly replaced by a great deal of concern, and even a flash of fear at the mention of Runelord Zarzoug. "Ah...ah I see." A violent death indeed, if she was with companions opposing a Runelord.
"Yes, of course." He nods resolutely. Although in his own mind he felt the lack of confidence, he did his best to hide it from her, and come off as a strong presence. Zaphiel's helmet helped in that regard. "Aurora Ulfurdottir, tell me what you can of you and your companions journey to stop Runelord Zarzoug, and where I can find them..."
"That looks hazardous to break open. I can get us past." Tomaru offers to cast Dimension Door.
Thordak shrugs. "Works for me, lad. Whatever's easiest."
Tomaru's spell immediately transfers both himself and Thordak beyond the door, then fails!
Of ogres and giants, ferrying on the backs of huge turtleshells, of love quite literally torn asunder and a nymphs agony. She speaks of desperate battles in a wilderness keep, and upon a 500' dam decorated with skulls. Of a deal brokered with a pit fiend, in where her paladin companion sacrificed his life essence to save a town. She tells of giants and ogres in the Hook Mountains preparing for war.
Aurora shifts her tale back to a sleepy town called Sandpoint, where a celebration of sorts is interrupted by an assault of dragons and stone giants. They follow this war party deep into the Storval Plain, where a forgotten fortress has been occupied by an even larger army of giants, led by one called 'Mokmurian'. Her story moves underground, in the catacombs of the fortress known as Jorgenfist, where Mokmurian and his minions were defeated. Deep within Jorgenfist, the gnome recalls an ancient repository of Thassilonian knowledge, lost and preserved for ten thousand years.
Oddly, her story travels back to Sandpoint once more. Something in the antediluvian library brings them back, only to discover evil stirring in the catacombs below the town. The scribblings of a madman in the service of not one, but two Runelords tells of a place where the followers of the Runelords worked to bring them back to this world. From here she describes a battle against an elder white dragon in the snowy mountains. Of a demi-plane - the Runeforge. Each section of the Runeforge is an adventure unto itself, culminating in her untimely death at the hands of a powerful lich.
Through it all, several themes become apparent: the Seven Deadly Sins are very real, and tied somehow to these 'Runelords'. That she and her companions fought many a desperate battle against evils thought long dead. And that there was one companion in particular, one dwarf named Thordak, that had captured her heart.
"As far as where they are now, I do not know, Master Everon." she says wistfully. "I was hoping you may have the resources to locate them, with your celestial connections. They certainly need your help, will you go to them?"
"Yes, I will find them Aurora. Rest assured, I will do everything in my power to assist them in their quest." He gives her a sympathetic smile. "Is there anything you would like me to tell them?"
Everon recounts what Aurora told him. Tell me where this group of adventurers is, give me description so that I may teleport to their side.
Finding himself still outside, Praxim remarks, ”It would seem that Thordak and Tomaru would like some alone time.”
Tomaru and Thordak bamf out only to re-bamf back in immediately. The spell failed. "It's a small- tiny office." The spells failure causes Tomaru to be nauseous for a short time. "We'll need to find another way in."
Lym goes over to and soothes Tomaru before going to the door and briefly inspecting it.
Use Arcane Sight and Glyph Finder to determine if the door is magicked.
If it is Lym will try to remove any magical protections.
Glyph Finder ability allows her to use knowledge-arcana to detect magical traps like a rogue. It also allow the removal of the same using Spellcraft.
If the door is still locked, she'll attempt to open it.
Lym determines that the door is nothing more than what it seems - made by greedy, paranoid dwarves, otherwise known as dwarves. The room inside is a 5'x10' space. Inside, seven large burlap sacks sit against the wall to your left, while in front of you sits a small desk and chair. A leather-bound ledger lies atop the desk.
And with that, the spirit fades away as silently as she came.
"That is your destination. Do not not fail. I do not want that gnome pestering me for an eternity."
"Do be careful." Lym says as she steps to the side. "There may yet be traps inside." She has every intent not to go in until the space has been given the all clear.
Casting Detect Magic, Tomaru goes into the room and looks for any sign of danger.
Everon takes a deep inhale. Well, no need to waste any time. He envisions the location.
"Flemehwoth."
The word reverberates, and Everon invokes the magic.
[dice=Teleport Chance (based on "viewed once"]1d100[/dice]
Clone (in case Everon ever dies)
Contingency (casts damnation stride either if Everon snaps his fingers or if he is attacked while under half health)
Permanent Arcane Sight
DURATION BASED EFFECTS
Greater False Life (15 hours)
Nine Lives (14 hours) (cast in morning before repreparing spells)
See Invisibility (300 minutes)
Thordak moves in and looks around. He moves to the desk and sees the ledger. "Look what I found here, lad. This might be useful." He then opens it and looks within.
The ledger on the desk contains several detailed maps of the regions the brothers were mining, and locates all of their assay points and mines. Notes on the payout of each mine are listed—it appears that all of them have played out without imparting any particularly rich lodes. Several pages near the end of the ledger have been torn out.
There are seven burlap sacks. Five are stuffed with gold dust and are worth 1,000 gp each. The last two actually hold gold nuggets and are worth 2,500 gp each. Each sack weighs 40 pounds. Hidden behind one of the sacks is a small coffer holding 14 uncut gems the brothers found, worth 50 gp each.
Praxim whips an arrow into position, then pauses, concentrating. He relaxes a bit as he doesn’t detect any evil from below. Still, he’s cautious as he makes his way back down the stairwell.
He breaths in, then gently exhales a line of fire, using the flames to warm his hands. He did not truly need it, for his helm kept him resistant to all of the elements, but it would make him easier to perceive and would add a tinge of humanity to him that he hoped the adventurers would pick up on.
Although it didn't help that he completely forgot he was hovering a clear three feet off the ground.
At the bottom of the stairs is {insert room description here}. In the center of the room is a figure, tall and lithe, wearing golden robes with blue trim, and wearing a shining golden winged helmet. His high cheekbones and sharp features betray his elven heritage, and his faint wrinkles betray his age. He has dark green eyes, and his face is somewhat sunken in, as if he never quite gets enough sleep. Most interestingly he is breathing a small flame downwards to warm his hands, and he hovers about three feet off the ground.
Tomaru puts a hand on Thordak's should to get his attention and make sure he realizes that something has just entered the building.
"Stay close to me. I'll make sure you get close to them."
"Is it too much to hope that whomever that is will be friendly?" Lym moves behind Praxim and prepares to cast.
”Well, as you know, I do like to look on the bright side of things, but I say not likely.”
Still, the grey-streaked elf was not at all what he expected to find, and while he senses no evil, he’s not willing to dismiss alignment-cloaking magic just yet.
”State your purpose,” he says in elvish, his knocked arrow unwavering in its aim and resolve.
Thordak puts down the book and snaps his attention in the direction of the noise.
Tomaru puts a hand on Thordak's should to get his attention and make sure he realizes that something has just entered the building.
"Stay close to me. I'll make sure you get close to them."
The dwarf gives a firm nod as he draws his longaxe. "Whatever it is, it won't be standin' long."
At the bottom of the stairs is a mostly empty cellar, the only item in it a bucket with a severed chain attached. In the center of the room is a figure, tall and lithe, wearing golden robes with blue trim, and wearing a shining golden winged helmet. His high cheekbones and sharp features betray his elven heritage, and his faint wrinkles betray his age. He has dark green eyes, and his face is somewhat sunken in, as if he never quite gets enough sleep. Most interestingly he is breathing a small flame downwards to warm his hands, and he hovers about three feet off the ground.
"Greetings." The floating elf says in a weary voice. "Tomaru, Thordax, Praxim, Lym. It is good you are all still alive. I was worried the Runelord's defenses may have moved some of you to the boneyard before I arrived."
Taken aback by what he just heard, Thordak realizes his mouth is agape and he closes it as he storms downstairs. As soon as he makes it down, he stares at the elf a moment trying to figure... something out. After a moment, "Okay, how in Torag's Halls do ya know our names?! And it's ThordaK by the way. Who are you?! Why are you here?! We're not very trustin' so this better be good!" The dwarf grips his longaxe a bit tighter, awaiting his response.
From up above, Lym calls down. "You do have us at a disadvantage. You know our names and we don't know yours. You know our purpose here or at least seem to know some of it and yet, we don't know yours. If you would have this meeting continue to be friendly, you will rebalance the scales."
"ThordaK? Hmm, could have sworn that Aurora called you Thordax." He slowly raises his hands in a non-threatening manner. "Yes, yes, of course. I am Everon Mitharian. Although I am born of this plane I serve the interests of the heavens." He taps his helmet, indicating the angel he is bound to. "Aurora tells your story like a bard of legend and implored for assistance to finish it. She seems to even think you may be going after a Runelord, although I find it much more likely that it is some lesser being pretending at their power."
Cast True Sight.
Tomaru yells down at the stranger. "You risk your existence by saying that name.!"
"Indeed. Tread with care stranger. Your next words could be your last."
”Perhaps you should start at the beginning and tell us your story. A particularly vile demon has already tried to use our friend to manipulate and destroy us.”
The old elf stares at them with his lips slightly parted. Well...didn't anticipate that did you? Then after a moment he smiles, putting a hand to his forehead. "You truly have been through a lot. Forgive me. When you spend so many years working for powerful outsiders, you forget that other mortals can reach your own heights of power. I am not used to speaking to equals who were born on the material plane."
Everon throws his robe to the side, retrieving a handy haversack. He moves slowly, as to not alarm the dangerous adventurers, and retrieves a small shining keepsake from the bag. With a gesture it floats out, hovering halfway between him and the party. A medallion made of silver and sapphire, on a chain of pure mithril. The medallion is a master artisan's rendition of a swallowtail butterfly.
"Thordak, she wanted you to have this. And she wanted to let you know that she will always be watching over you, and she will be waiting for you." He smiles, as if recalling a fond memory. "When you are ready, of course."
Praxim spends another moment getting the feel of the man in front of him, mundanely this time, before lowering his bow and returning the arrow to his quiver.
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Eyes going wide at the mention of Aurora, Thordak finds himself speechless and angry and about a million other things at the same time as he grips his weapon even tighter, completely confused on how to react as the newcomer responds to Praxim.
Everon throws his robe to the side, retrieving a handy haversack. He moves slowly, as to not alarm the dangerous adventurers, and retrieves a small shining keepsake from the bag. With a gesture it floats out, hovering halfway between him and the party. A medallion made of silver and sapphire, on a chain of pure mithril. The medallion is a master artisan's rendition of a swallowtail butterfly.
"Thordak, she wanted you to have this. And she wanted to let you know that she will always be watching over you, and she will be waiting for you." He smiles, as if recalling a fond memory. "When you are ready, of course."
The dwarf stares transfixed and wide-eyed at the medallion offered him. Trying to contain the multitude of feelings that rage within him, he works to keep himself from shaking uncontrollably. Unfortunately the emotions from it all prevents him from being able to stop his mouth from quivering as a tear rolls down his face.
But then he cuts his vision back to the elf, and when he does, he finds he is now unable to keep himself from shaking uncontrollably and a look of rage forms as the dwarf lets out a primal scream that cuts to the core. Thordak then raises his axe high, "WHO!!!" and brings it down hard, straight into the ground. "IN!!!" *CHOP!* "THE!!!" *CHOP!* "HELL!!!" *CHOP!* "DO!!!" *CHOP!* "YOU!!!" *CHOP!* "THINK!!! *CHOP!* "YOU!!!" *CHOP!* "ARE?!?!" *CHOP!*. Debris of stone and dust flying everywhere as he attacks the ground a few more times before throwing his weapon down in frustration. He then walks over to the elf, breathing rather hard from his exertion. He glares at the elf before cutting his eyes to the medallion. He doesn't hesitate a moment to snatch it from him, as if the elf was not really going to give it to him or something. Pointing sternly at him, "You... you just DON'T. Do you understand me, lad? Just... just don't. I don't know you and you don't know. You... you just don't know. I don't know what yer game is and I...," he stops and strokes his beard in irritation, finding himself so confused that he really doesn't know what to say or do. He then takes another look at the medallion before cutting his eyes back to the elf and then back to the medallion again. The dwarf then simply walks away, moving to the nearest wall where he can sit down and rest against it to look upon the supposed gift from Aurora.
Could it be true? Could this truly be from me Aurora? Me dear darlin' Aurora? The dwarf can be seen shaking his head as he battles the turmoil within.
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Praxim watches Thordak vent, rage, and storm off to sulk. He looks back at Everon, shrugs, and comments —very quietly and in Elvish — ”And I thought he’d take it badly.”
I forgot to roll Perception with the True Sight.
Tomaru goes down and stands next to Thordak. He doesn't try to console him, just stands nearby offering his silent support.
Lym floats down so that she's over the newcomer. "This is, perhaps, a good time for us to take a break from our search. We could use the time to get to know this person."
But then he cuts his vision back to the elf, and when he does, he finds he is now unable to keep himself from shaking uncontrollably and a look of rage forms as the dwarf lets out a primal scream that cuts to the core. Thordak then raises his axe high, "WHO!!!" and brings it down hard, straight into the ground. "IN!!!" *CHOP!* "THE!!!" *CHOP!* "HELL!!!" *CHOP!* "DO!!!" *CHOP!* "YOU!!!" *CHOP!* "THINK!!! *CHOP!* "YOU!!!" *CHOP!* "ARE?!?!" *CHOP!*....
Everon flinches and floats back at the violent outburst, his demeanor shattering. In shock he watches the dwarf vent his frustrations and storm off.
Praxim watches Thordak vent, rage, and storm off to sulk. He looks back at Everon, shrugs, and comments —very quietly and in Elvish — ”And I thought he’d take it badly.”
"That's him taking it well?" He hisses back in the same language.
...
Oh Everon what did you get yourself into?
"Look, I understand the position that you all are in. I did not realize Aurora was...such a sensitive topic. Clearly she still cares for you all as well, since even in her final resting place she still sought to help you however she could. Please, ask your questions. I will do my best to answer them."