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Your group of Pahfinders are one of many gathered today, outside the walls of Absalom in a field called the Bloodwatered Meadow. It has been the place of many brutal battles as would-be conquerers assaulted the city of the center of the world.
While you wait for the mustering call from Master of Scrolls Kreighton Shaine, you have ample opportunities to introduce yourself to the squad.
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A sprightly halfling male stands, staring intently at a red button he has balanced at the end of a gladius. He flicks his wrist, sending the button tumbling through the air, where it lands at his feet, a tiny shortsword with three notches carefully drawn on its face.
He nods with satisfaction before picking the button back up and stowing it in a pocket of his ragged green vest.
"Hiya. I'm Derkhan. Anybody got a clear idea on what they brought us all down here for?"
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A small gnome next to him shrugs and scratches behind the ears of a boar at his side, "Not really, though it would be nice to clean up this area and help bring back the natural landscape. Too much death and destruction has torn the land asunder."
He glances back at the halfling, "Oh I'm sorry, I usually don't get so serious at the start of new missions. I'm Dexter and my porcine pal here is Salazar." The boar gives a snort and nuzzles the gnome's hand, looking for more scratches. Dexter wears a basic brown and grey explorer’s outfit and carries a backpack. Salazar seems almost better outfitted than the druid in studded leather with a loaded pack saddle strapped to his back.
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Sssquirrel sssaid be here. Cat sssaid be here. Ssself isss here. What ssself do now?
Startlingly, the squirrel speaks up, You big silly, you have to introduce yourself. This is Threesh, but everyone just calls him Voices. We are here for our next assignment.
The cat just hisses and turns with tail in the air to point his butt at anyone who looks at him.
A large physically powerful lummox of a Nagaji. His scales are green and all of his equipment is dyed or painted various shades of green. Even his breastplate and huge hammer.
He has what appears to be a cute squirrel the size of a beagle perched on his right shoulder. On his left shoulder sits a mangy, scarred, alley cat.
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Eurus of Clan Frostwind is a young average sized young woman with a small frame, but walks with a certain grace. She has creamy skin and very long hair in the colour of rust, falling down almost half her back. Her heritage is only oblivious in the crystal blue orbs she has for eyes and her hair that always seems to be in a breeze.
In battle he wears a simple lamellar leather armor with buckles styled after gearwheels. Her earrings, her sash and the ribbons of her explorer´s outfit are the same crystal blue as her eyes.
She is carrying a brand new crossbow of simple style and a strange dagger like weapon as arment, but booth seem to be unused.
Her voice is a whispery sopran.
Moving in she smiles to the gathered pathfinders and speaks up.
"Nice to move out again! I am Frostwind!
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Bedisa comes in, just back from a Blakros wedding. She is still a little happy that the couple ended up happily married.
She's tall and muscular, but always has a smile on her face. In her hand, Bedisa holds several handmade rings. "I made these for you. They're simply rings, but the Warrior's Ring would love for you to have them." Each ring is very simple, made of wood or stone or something along those lines.
Looking around the room, spirits emerge in front of her. Each ring has a spirit, the environment around her has spirits, the building they are in has a spirit. Bedisa nods to each spirit she sees, as her ancestors debate in her head.
She goes up to each person and gives them a big bear hug . A small bird flies around her head, speaking in an uncommon tongue.
"आपको क्या लगता है कि हम कहां जा रहे हैं?"
"Where do you think we are going?"
Bedisa, not knowing the language, just nods at Swaine as he flies around.
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”Yes, Pathfinders” Master of Scrolls Kreighton Shaine muses. ”A lot of you, certainly. Lovely! Well, find your places in an orderly fashion. We’ve got some truly exciting news today and I can’t wait to get started!”
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The sun beats down across this muddy plain, a scant five miles from the walls of Absalom. Fellow Pathfinders gather on all sides, including well-traveled field agents and more permanent staff from the Grand Lodge itself. In the center of the field stands a wooden platform, raised some ten feet off the ground. The excited chatter drowns out the buzz of summer insects as the gathered adventurers speculate on what is to come.
While the Decemvirate made efforts to keep the specifics under wraps, some of you may have heard rumors about the mission taking place today:
Something has been abuzz around the Grand Lodge the past several weeks, keeping many Society scholars and casters busy and away from the public eye. This follows a recent conflict at the Grand Lodge that the Society kept from spilling into the rest of the city.
Supposedly the Society has reassembled the Sky Key, a dwarven relic it started piecing back together a year ago. The Society has been “secretly” buying up large quantities of sky metal whenever it appears in the market. The Pathfinders have also been recruiting dozens of arcane spellcasters, especially evokers.
The Grand Lodge has been importing all kinds of experts on Dwarven artifice, which seems reasonable—but also experts on Numerian science, conjurers, mathematicians, and even historians who specialize in Absalom’s earliest history.
Apparently today is about a “big test,” and it sounds like the Decemvirate needs a large number of assistants to handle whatever happens next.
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The field has been marked out with a series of circles, which are unusual for social gatherings but standard for arcane rituals.
The assemblage of circles suggests a conjuration ritual, but there are enough variations that
even this seems unlikely.
The markings across the field don’t align correctly for any sort of magical ritual. It seems to be something completely new.
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Locals call this field the Bloodwatered Meadow. Many of the invading armies that tried to conquer Absalom assembled here before being defeated.
One of the most famous conflicts here did not even involve Absalom’s army. The Linnorm King Yardvun Skolson clashed with the Thuvian warlord Attagesha hundreds of years ago as both attempted to besiege the city at the same time but refused to share the glory with each. They crippled each other’s forces and were forced to retreat without ever attacking Absalom.
An archeological excavation led by the Pathfinder Society uncovered truly ancient sites in the Bloodwatered Meadow. The exact age is unknown, but several building foundations and pieces of pottery seemed reminiscent of old Azlanti designs.
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While you try to piece together what may come next, the group also has time to visit the various vendors from the Grand Lodge around the mustering area. Any last-minute purchases for the mission ahead can be purchased with ease.
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Derkhan smiles at Voices.
"I'm gonna try to see if any of these others know whats up, since the Dean wants to keep us in suspense."
After a little while, he comes rushing back.
"Ooh, something big is going on. We've reassembled the Sky Key, and apparently we've been buying up starmetal like mad, and hiring dozens of mages. Evokers, especially."
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"I've heard that too. Apparently, the Grand Lodge has been importing all kinds of experts on Dwarven artifice, which seems reasonable—but also experts on Numerian science, conjurers, mathematicians, and even historians who specialize in Absalom’s earliest history.". Bedisa turns and whispers to Derkhan: "Where is Numeria? Not sure I know."
Then, looking around at the other Pathfinders nearby. She's heard today is about a “big test,” and it sounds like the Decemvirate needs a large number of assistants to handle whatever happens next.
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The gnome watches the proceedings with interest, thinking back to his last mission and how difficult it was to determine the truth of things.
He turns to the pathfinders mustered around him, "We shall also be ready. Magic can go awry very quickly."
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Kreighton Shaine, the Pathfinder Society’s Master of Scrolls and de facto Master of Spells in the wake of Aram Zey’s untimely assassination, steps forward. A broad smile graces his youthful, elven features, and his golden hair shines in the sunlight.
“Welcome, my countless eager scholars! Today we are about to witness a wondrous and strange new chapter in the Pathfinder Society’s history. But first, please everyone take a moment of silence to remember our lost Master of Spells and my close friend, Aram Zey. While many of you found his manner abrasive, he fully believed in the Society’s goals of exploration and cooperation, and I know his loss will be deeply felt by us all.” After a moment, Kreighton Shaine continues.
“You may have heard rumors about the Sky Key, an artifact coveted by the dwarves of Jormurdun. A few of you even managed to recover pieces of it. But—and this is the important part—the Sky Key is no dwarven relic. The dwarves found this artifact in one of Numeria’s many wrecks and struggled to master its abilities just as we have spent the past several months doing. But now… now we have this assembled... wonder.”
The Master of Scrolls pulls back a canvas tarp, revealing… a bed of withered roses. “The Key itself is secure in a small chamber we’ve constructed below this field, and it is connected to the surface here by a series of adamantine rods and mithral cables.” He taps a dark metal shaft beside him. “This formerly-award-winning bed of roses, however, we have left sitting here for two weeks without sun or water.”
His hands weave an arcane pattern, and arcs of lightning leap from his fingertips to the rod. A chest-shaking hum rises from somewhere below, and a bubble of green light enfolds the roses, revealing a flower bed of vibrant reds, purples, and yellows where only withered brown stood moments before.
“This is the power of the Sky Key: It creates a window into the past. No longer will the Society have to pick at the precious few scraps history leaves behind. Instead we can watch the greatest moments of Golarion’s history unfold before our eyes! We can watch the Eventongue Rebellion shatter Taldor into a dozen smaller states. We can witness Irrisen before the coming of Baba Yaga, or study the godcallers of Sarkoris before the Worldwound. We can witness the Starstone plunge Golarion into an age of endless night, or watch Aroden himself pull Kortos from the sea in its wake. Anything we want, we can study. And all it requires is lightning!
“Unfortunately, we must content ourselves with study. While our modern forms can enter these temporal bubbles unaffected—” he reaches a hand into the shimmering energy and plucks a rose. Pulling it from the iridescent field, the flower ages and crumbles into dust, “—anything removed collapses under the weight of time itself. We can witness anything we like, but any treasures of history, or great figures, belong to their own age, beyond our reach.”
“It takes the magic of one accomplished wizard to reach back thirteen days. How far, then, do you imagine twenty will reach? A hundred?” Several other teams across the field begin assembling adamantine rods. “Our math says: The Age of Serpents, some tens of thousand years before the present. And that is where all of you come in. If this works—and it will, mind you—then we estimate we’ll have four to five hours to see what Kortos looked like at the dawn of the Azlanti Empire, when our earliest ancestors still warred with the serpentfolk empire of old. We need all the eyes and ears the Society can muster to take notes and make observations. Oh, and keep those eyes and ears from getting killed. Anything in the bubble can’t get out, but these roses... they still have thorns.”
He nods, and Pathfinders across the field begin casting spells, directing arcs of lightning into the waiting sky metal rods. Something deep below the earth thrums, and across the field a massive bubble takes shape, expanding to reveal a cube of earth and stone hundreds of feet to a side, as if sliced from the land and laid out in celebration. Low, stone buildings peek over from the very top, while networks of caves riddle the lowest level. Ophidian faces peer out, then retreat back into the darkness.
“It seems the ground level was a bit higher before the Starstone drove it into the sea,” Shaine observes. “Regardless. We have three-hundred and seven minutes remaining. Let’s make the most of it!”
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Bedisa audibly gasps at the announcement. "We can go into the past?" she whispers to the person next to her.
As the bubble forms, she gasps again. "That's impressive. I would love to commune with the spirits there. I wonder what they have to say."
With no means of flight and only mediocre climbing abilities, she can't make it to the top. Seeing the caverns, she pulls out her sword and is ready to charge in. But the spirits inside her are pulling her towards the pool.
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Swept along into the spell, Dexter mutters something about the risk of changing the past being a fool's errand and then finds himself with the rest of his allies as they figure out their steps forward, "Hmmm... let's go, this way! It'll be quicker. Just keep an eye out for anything interesting and take good notes. Sal can lead*." He pulls out his shield and moves forward.
Dexter sneaks along after the boar, watching for dangers.
(Hilly/Rocky Terrain +1)
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The group quickly moves up into the section of earth and into the lowest level of the temple complex. From what they initially see, it consists of sprawling networks of caverns and artificial tunnels used as animal pens, stables, cave gardens, and training facilities for Ydersius’ holy animals, guards beasts, and draft dinosaurs.
The stink of animal scat and rotting meat begin to waft through the hallways as a cavern appears ahead. Shelves, passageways, and fixtures have been carved into the wall by careful hands, each stylized to resemble a serpent’s head or body.
As Sal and Dexter take the lead, they notice a large dinosaur and attempt to get a little closer before noticing that there are also some scaled humanoids in the cave ahead.
They have just enough time to warn the group when the dinosaur hisses alerting the red scaled humanoid as well.
This large dinosaur is a dimetrodon! It has a vicious bite that is more likely to inflict critical wounds.
If you beat the DC by 5 or more, you get more information!
These scaled humanoids are lizardfolk who are able to fight with their manufactured weapons and their natural weapons, making them dangerous adversaries.
If you beat the DC by 5 or more, you get more information!
The dinosaur is quick to react, and scrambles up the rocky ramp towards the group before snapping its jaws at Sal.
The razor sharp teeth sink deep into the Sal's flesh but the pig shakes it off before more damage is suffered.
LE Medium outsider (devil, evil, extraplanar, lawful)
Init +0; Senses darkvision 60 ft., see in darkness;Perception +0
DEFENSES
AC 14, touch 10, flat-footed 14 (+4 natural)
hp 13 (2d10+2)
Fort +4 , Ref +3, Will +0
DR 5/good or silver; Immune fire, mind-affecting effects, poison; Resist acid 10, cold 10
OFFENSE
Speed 20 ft.
Melee 2 claws +2 (1d4)
STATISTICS
Str 11, Dex 10, Con 12 [16], Int --, Wis 11, Cha 5
Base Atk +2; CMB +2; CMD 12
SPECIAL ABILITIES
, if hits,
, if hits,
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In addition to the tearing bite, the dimetrodon can utilize it's scent to track creatures. It has no resistances or extraordinary defenses. Its only means of attack is the bite.
These lizardfolk are of low-caste, speak only Draconic and have the ability to hold their breath for extended periods. Their favorite weapons are javelins and morningstars but gladly switch to their claws and razor sharp teeth.
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The magic quickly washes over the Dimetrodon which stops its attack. Instead it calmly turns back to see the Lemure attacking the lizardfolk before letting out a shrill yawn.
However, the lemure struggles to connect any blows on the agile lizardfolk.
"Invaders! And they are summoning foul monsters!" he exclaims.
As Cat prowls down the other tunnels, it does not find any other creatures yet.
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With an order from Dexter, the boar charges into the room but the lizardfolk was prepared to dodge the incoming tusks.
Bedisa and Derkhan both slip past the dinosaur, to close on one of the handlers behind.
The lizardfolk lashes out with his mace as Derkhan passes, but the halfling ducks under the blow.
The Rouge Rogue skillfully tumbles into position behind the other red-scaled handler.
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Frostwind moves past the dinosaur to join the others.
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Bedisa, sensing the lizardfolk's ineptitude, lashes out.
"Begone evil!"
She'll enter a rage. She loses control as her ancestors take the reins. Her eyes start glowing blue. One ancestor uses her arms to grasp her sword. Another tells her to swing. Another tells her where to aim.
And her ancestors, sensing something is off, can't seem to control Bedisa's movements.
The emure again lashes out with its claws.
, if hits,
, if hits,