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The chest contains a masterwork longsword, a potion of greater magic fang, 50 feet of spider’s silk rope (Pathfinder RPG Ultimate Equipment 73), and 250 gold pieces in assorted coins. There is also a sheaf of notes on the anomaly that appears to have been written by the Tempest Monarch themselves.
The Professor's study of the rift showed that this phenomenon is beyond the power and resources of the party. More powerful magic would need to be marshaled to either close the rift or to turn it into a portal that is stable enough to travel through. Bennary will definitely be interested in hearing about this.
Leaving the cave will be just as hard as it was to enter, if not harder The wind in this cave is still howling and the water is frothy with swirling waves.
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The way back is just as difficult as entering the cave. While the party has the advantage of having gone through this cave already, this time they are also pushing against the howling winds and raging currents caused by the right. Bocke's captaining is not nearly as inspired this time and the stress causes him to make a few errors that cause the boat to scrap against some rocks. Luckily, the rest of the crew pull together and manage to get the boat past the worst of it. Once they emerge from the cave, it's just a matter to rowing against the current until they can get far enough away to not be dragged back in.
Exhausted and soaked with perspiration, the party rests before setting sail back to the Grinning Pixie.. After a few minutes on the open water they spot a pinpoint on the horizon that turns out to be a small, fast moving boat. As it closes, a sweet fragrance cuts through the briny air. The boat is festooned in brightly colored garlands of flowers. The people on board are wearing masks and ceremonial robes and appear to be Unarmed. They seem shocked to see a vessel emerge from the cave and stare openly. One of them calls out, "What was your business in the sacred grotto of our god? No one, not even we, may enter!"
"I told you I have followers," the Tempest Monarch hisses.
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Situation can be ugly quick. At least these don't seem armed. No reason to hurt them. Didn't think the dragon had real followers, but I didn't took in consideration human foolishness enough. So I'm an even bigger fool. Let's see if we can defuse the situation by telling them what they want to hear.
Your god has requested us to come with him and show his magnificence to the whole world, before coming back to the grotto, when he will judge fit. You should be proud, as you will be known as his first disciples, and the guardians of the place. Write your names around the grotto's entrance, so they never fade from memory, and bring there, near the grotto's entrance, your offerings to the wise and powerful Tempest Monarch.
I ain't proud of lying, but if that can spare some bloodshed, it's better that way. In fact, that didn't sound too bad.
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Zalgrim hops to the front of the swan boat, addressing the humans with open arms. ”My good men! As my good friend here has just said, your monarch is on his way to bigger and greater things! He will remember you in infinite memory as all dragons do! But now, we must press forward to accompany your god. May we pass without harm?”
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"I can tell you've never seen these people before," Bocke whispers to the dragon. "But if you don't push it, we'll let it slide."
"Cultists of the Eye! The Eye has chosen this magnificent dragon to bring its message to the world. You may continue to leave your offerings here, but you should let us pass."
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The Tempest Monarch happily accepts the role that Zalgrim and Bocke suggest, its little chest puffing up with pride.
"Yes, I am a representative of the Eye and I command that you let these people pass in peace. These brave adventurers have done a great service for our god and are returning home with treasures nobly earned and tales of the wonders that they have seen. You may give them the offerings that you bring to the grotto, as I have no need for those trinkets at this time." The dragon turns its head back towards the party and gives a knowing nod.
The cultists happily approach, singing songs about the glory of the Storm Eternal and lavishing the Pathfinders with offerings. They insist on putting a garland of flowers around each adventurer's neck and present more valuable gifts than these. Among their gifts is a bright green parrot feather that radiates a magic aura, a wand carved from pink coral, and a marble idol carved in the shape of a hurricane.
The Tempest Monarch turns to the group and says quietly, "I think we are done now. Don't worry about these people, I will watch over them." The dragon stretches its wings, ready to fly away.
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"Indeed, the current here is so strong as to pull in unsuspecting craft against the best efforts of their passengers. One could say it is the god's power that chooses who may enter. Such was our fate, and our blessing." The Professor reverently clasps her hands and bows her head, inwardly sneering: Cultists are such fools.
She debates switching out her spells. Hmm...I have Magic Missile prepared, but there is no need to harm these hapless idiots, really. Color Spray? Hmm... Yes, that would do better if things get ugly, despite its limited range. Perhaps I should wait until our boats are closer... She dithers a bit longer, trying to gauge the situation to determine if a swapping of spells is truly necessary.
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The Cultists share some of their provisions with the party and happily talk to them about their faith. They thank the Pathfinders profusely for bringing the brine dragon out the cave and delivering them to their congregation. Essentially they worship the Eye of Abendgo itself, although many of them were originally followers of Gozreh and they are waiting for some kind of prophecy or guidance to emerge from the endless storm. They have been bringing offerings to the sea cave for several months now. They seem relatively harmless.
Feeling assured that Bocke and Bennett aren't going to start firing arrows at them, the dragon formally known as the Tempest Monarch flies from the boat and towards the Tempest Cay.
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Chattily, Professor Masaendri agrees with Besida, though at a normal volume intended for only those nearby: "Indeed! Dragon allies are far preferable to dragon enemies. Aside from their mere physical attributes, their memory, intellect, and longevity are a boon to the shorter-lived races and a salve on the weary for those of us blessed with longer life. Why, I read an account once of an ancient gold dragon..." She turns to stare out at the horizon as she relates the tale, not even noticing if anyone is listening.
On the way back from the mission, she spends much of her time studying and copying from Eredur's spellbook. I have heard so much of the stubbornness and intractable nature of dwarves, but this fellow, while gruff, has been quite helpful and generous. I wonder if that stereotype was cemented during times of conflict between our races? Hmm... The theory is plausible. Perhaps I'll research that when I have time...
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At the bottom of the boat are several glittering blue-green scales; a souvenir of the party's encounter with a dragon.
After leaving the Cultists of the Eye, the party returns to the Grinning Pixie and finds Calisro Benarry waiting, with a few exhausted sailors.
"Look who I found. These are a few survivors from the Pride of Aspentharo. I found them wandering around Driftport. From what they told me, I don't expect that you found any survivors." Benarry and the survivors compare notes with what the party discovered. The surviving
sailors are able to verify the account of mutiny.
When the party tells Benarry about the anomaly that they discovered, she confirms that the Master of Gales has been in Port Peril on official business for several months and is therefore unlikely to be involved.
"A portal of both water and air is pretty unusual," Benarry says thoughtfully. "You did great work scouting it out. Take some shore leave, Pathfinders. You've earned it. I'll need to find the right group to look into this."
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Been a pleasure and honor to work will all of you. Being in the Pathfinder bring us together, with people from all roads of life, all origins. That's the best way to learn and grow, in my opinion. You can't know what makes you a dwarf, what defines you as a race, if you stay always among dwarves. You're just another rock in a pile of rocks. Rocks are resilient. But they lack the beauty of the flowers, the adaptability of water, the power of lightning, the lightness of the winds. Everything and everyone has his strenghts and weaknesses, and we can't better ourselves if we are too blind to recognise our own weaknesses, if we rely only on our strenghts. We have to learn from each other if we want to be able to learn from ourselves.
Eredur shakes hand with each member of the party, showing nothing but respect toward everyone, and has a few more words with the Professor, thanking her for the new spells he learned with her help.
With a twinkle in his eye (and Lybna the weasel showing her furry face again from under his shirt), he adds
Now, if you don't mind, time to be a real dwarf again. We saw too much water in this mission, time for some beer or the beverage of your choice.I'm buying the first round.
Yes, Eredur Smagg (the younger) is a dwarf unlike many other of his kind
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Zalgrim returns the handshake with a firm grip. ”I couldn’t have said it better myself. Alkenstar Ice Wine, for the record.” He gives the dwarf a wink and slaps his back in a show of brotherhood. ”Aye! It’s been a grand adventure with all of you, and I do look forward to many more. For now though, I’ll retire to my chambers if you don’t mind.”
With that he spins on his heel and walks off, proud of his first mission completed.