Invite only.
The ruined siege castles outside Absalom have long beckoned adventurers looking to make a name for themselves. Now an earthquake has cracked open one of these fabled ruins, and its lost mysteries and fantastic treasures lie exposed for the first time in centuries. But the tower's empty halls once more echo with living footfalls, and a new master has claimed the Fallen Fortress as his own. Can the PCs find a way to get inside its shattered walls? What ancient dangers and fresh threats will they encounter inside its crumbling chambers? And will the PCs be able to defeat the current Master of the Fallen Fortress?
5 adventurers, Pathfinder initiates each, find themselves summoned to a Jeweler's shop in Absalom, Xar'z Sapphire Emporeum.
Inside, beautiful women offer you beverages as they take you to a conference room in the back. There you wait for each other to arrive, with five chairs each labeled with your names sit vacant.
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The sized half orc, grey skinned and yellow tusked, remained silent as the beverage offer is mentioned. His orangish eyes looked over the woman for a moment before he shook his head and moved forward. Waving his hand slightly at the boar at his heels, it sat down and waited for the return of its two legged friend.
Once inside the room, he looked over each of the names to see if any are ones he knew. Not seeing anything familiar, he pulled the great axe from off his back, setting it top down as he sat in the chair assigned him, holding the haft with one hand. The tough hide armour he wore creaked in protest as he moved into a seated position, it having seen better days before its most recent owner took possession of it.
A heavy breath inward, he patiently waited for the other seats to fill and find out what he was here for.
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As the door next opens, a heavily armed and armored Kellid man enters. He takes care to not knock over any tables or bump into glass display cases as he maneuvers his wide frame into the space.
”Gronak of Clan Kranum” he proudly announces to the woman as he towers over her.
Gronak is garbed in heavy leathers and furs, packed tightly into a suit of scale mail which appears to be a bit small for his frame. Sweat drips down his brow, plastering some of his thick long hair to his face.
He notices the chairs and careful reads the tags to find his name, following Lugroc’s lead he takes a Greatsword from his back and sets it aside.
”Is this where I learn to be a Wizard?” he asks eagerly as he takes his seat.
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The door opens and an average looking gnome strolls in. He is wearing studded leather armor, has a shortbow on his back and a dagger on his hip. He accepts a drink & takes a quick look around at the others on the room.
"FAT PENGUIN" he exclaims as he hops into his seat. Seeing the confused looks on the faces around him he bursts out laughing and says "What? I just wanted to say something that would break the ice," before leaning back and sipping his drink.
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Fat penguins? What has the Forest Marshall sent me out here to deal with? Oh! Ringo ponders as he enters moments after the gnome. He casts his glance across the room taking measure of each person present, lingering slightly longer on each human.
Dressed in what appears to be a somewhat formal, though worn, hide uniform bearing iconography depicting a deciduious tree with a sword piercing it, the young man of generally Taldan descent props his guisarme and greatsword against wall and carefully accepts a drink before locating the chair with his name upon it.
"Ah, I see we are a varied bunch today. Good day all, I'm Ringo, freshly out of Tamran's military training regiment." Ringo states then turns to face Wrofyx, "That's a good one, I hadn't heard that before!"
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A man in battle-worn scale mail clomps into the room, a symbol of a sword imbedded in a mountain hanging around his neck. Strapped to his back is an equally battle-worn greatsword.
He stomps over to a chair, sets himself down heavily into it, and puts his feet up on the small table next to it.
"Dragos Paran, just in from Nirmathis. Was back checkin' out my kin, makin' sure they ain't been bothered by the undead hordes or the damned hobbies.
"Guess you all need some preachin'? We'll I ain't the type. I'll keep you patched up for battle, but that's just to send you back into it."
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Gronak surveys the room, nodding in satisfaction at most of the group as they form, with perhaps a bit less focus on the gnome. While he had been unsure of what he would encounter on this journey, he was happy with what he was seeing.
Perhaps unlike the wizards that I have seen turning the tides in the world wound, there are others with more martial background that could walk this path. I shall not disappoint my clan!
”This is a fine group. A strong group. It is good to know that not all that seek to learn magic start weak and frail. I look forward to travelling this path with you all.”
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The half orc looked over the group, the barest of smiles creased his otherwise cracked lips. He shifted in his seat to mostly view everyone else, then spoke. His voice was rough, like it was dry or parched, yet the words came fine and without cough.
"Lugrok of the Forest. Urk is outside. The Green wants to be paid its toll for civilizations march on it. I am here to make sure it gets what it wants."
He then looks over at the gnome, his eyes narrowing for a moment.
"You do not look like a penguin, but if that is what you are called, then so be it. Good meet, Fat Penguin."
Looking to each of the others, he gives curt nods of the head in turn, finishing the movement looking at Gronak.
"I think the finger-wagglers are in another tower. Unsure. Do not come here often."
"hahaha Fat Penguin. A good name for you cousin thrice removed. Or is it five times? no matter." A voice emanates from the head of the table where a blue gnome appears comfortably sitting. The finely crafted Blue Sapphires on his necklace match the Portrait on the wall over the fireplace. It is Venture Captain Xar'Zith Nackl.
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"So there I was at a bar in Riddleport with my good friend Mutt, carousing and partying like that one time..."
Xar'z takes a sip of his wine. "As I was saying... I received a message that a Pathfinder I owe a favor to is overdue on his mission. Unfortunately I lost a bet... so I need you initiates to go check on him. He was exploring the Cairnlands West of here. A Troll cut out her guts and saw him huddled in an old Siege Tower. I assume you all are up for a little search and rescue and reap the rewards?"
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The gnome noticeably rolls his eyes at the Venture-Captain's comment.
And then laughs as addresses what he expects to be his traveling companions, "Greetings everyone, Wrofyx is the name. Fat penguin was just..." He trails off as his eyes land on Lugrok, "oh, nevermind."
His brow furrows as he turns his attention Xar'z, "A search & rescue mission is it? I'd ask what bet you lost that has us repaying your favor, but I suspect I don't want to know. So what can you tell us about this tower?"
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The half orc smirked as the gnome looked away.
Yup. Play dumb. Play simple.
"You need a friend found. We will help. Paid for it, right?"
He knew the answer was likely "not really", but he always asked anyway. Someday, that would be a "yes" and he would find himself unsure of what to do with the coin anyway.
He looked about the others gathered, then stood as the large human had done, setting his axe across his back once more, waiting for the rest to be ready to move on.
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Pondering his response, Ringo listens to the others, chuckling at Lugrok's interpretation of the fat penguin.
"I too am curious about this bet. You lost it to whom, this pathfinder you owe a favor to or someone else?"
This troll sounds... Cutting out her own guts? I wonder...
"Also this troll, an associate of yours?"
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"ancient siege tower... probably has loot. if not there'll be pay in it for ya."
Xar'z chuckles and shakes his head. "The troll was just an Auger... pretty standard sight in some towns. As for the bet... well it involved Mutt and a half troll... he did much better than I expected with her."
Xar'z unrolls a map of Kortos and points "Should be around here."
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A light grunt with a curt nod, arms crossed over his chest. He tilts his head side to side, allowing for some barely audible cracking noises to be heard by the others.
"Sooner than later. We will bring the wrath of the Storm on their heads for taking your friend."
The grey skin furrowed his a brow a moment...
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The gnome stands and walks toward a small backpack he had dropped by the door as he entered.
"Don't know about obnoxious, but I never understood the need to drag an instrument around with you. The basics you need for traveling are bad enough to carry."
He slings the pack on his back and it is obvious to everyone it weighs him down.
A wide field of shattered weapons, barrow mounds, and mass graves surrounds the city of Absalom, a vast plain known as the Cairnlands.
Rising from the war-torn earth like the grasping arms of the dead are countless siege castles, towers, and fortresses constructed over the millennia by would-be warlords who tried to take the great city and inevitably failed. Like forgotten monuments to failed conquerors, the siege castles of Absalom beckon the brave, the fearless, and the foolish with the promise of adventure and untold treasures, ever ready to create heroes or to entomb the fallen.
The map is a simple drawing of the island. Nothing significant of note. It will get you where you are going.
The minstrel is just your average pathfinder agent - yet to make his mark on the world.
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Nods curtly again (he has such a way with words!) as he does a cursory glance over the map. Hearing Gronak speak, and looking like the most likely of the group to not get them lost (yet), the half orc moves to the door and opens it.
"Those lands need healing. Right now, more likely the friend does."
He makes a couple of loud clicks with his tongue. Moments later, heavy trotting footfalls come toward the room to fall in alongside the grey skin. As the half orc moved out of the room into the hallway, he absent mindedly reached down a bit to scratch the back of the boars shoulders, causing the thick hided pig to grunt happily.
"Come, Urk. We have work now."
Both sets of weighted steps move down the wooden floor way, stopping only to await the rest of the group.
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With a curious look, Ringo faces Gronak and flatly replies, "Okay Gronak, I'll keep an eye out for clues as we near the area."
Intriguing couple this half-orc and boar, those tusks...
Securing the greatsword to his back, he carries the guisarme as a walking stick. Looking back at Wrofyx, "Perhaps the Fat Penguin could ride the boar? That would be a sight to behold!" he adds with a wink as he heads out.
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Well, this has to be the worst one of my jokes has ever backfired. And in front of Xar'z to boot, I'm never going to live this down.
"Wrofyx if you please, much faster to yell than Fat Penguin if you need my attention should we run into trouble."
Wrofyx looks at the boar and shakes his head.
"I'll pass on riding...", he looks at Lugrok, "Urk was it? But if I could put my pack on his back I should be able to match the speed of the humans"
The party sets out on their travels into the Cairnlands. Only a few minor creatures bother them as they navigate their way into the wilderness. After a quiet night, the party arrives in the early morning... taking in the view from a couple hundred yards away.
The ruined siege castle now being called the Fallen Fortress rises out of the churned earth of the Cairnlands. No doors or windows mar the otherwise smooth expanse of the tower’s walls. The tower is quatrefoil in plan; its eastern wing has largely collapsed, exposing the interior floors to the open air. Only the topmost level seems whole, though its eastern portion hangs precariously over the mountain of rubble left by the collapse. At ground level, the rubble frames a gaping hole in the side of the building that provides access to the tower’s darkened interior.
The party cannot recall any specific information on this siege tower; which looks to be about 70 feet tall.
For the most part, nothing seems out of the ordinary... other than a mildly foul odor wafting in the breeze occasionally.
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Gronak considers their options as they observe the fortification. He begins to tighten a few straps on his armor as he speaks.
”A tower is built to keep those inside safe from attack. The strong part is at the ground, where enemies come. Such a place would have much less defense from above. When full of warriors, they expect that they will see an enemy coming from far off, and their soldiers would be at the top to keep the tower safe.”
“If there are no soldiers watching from the top, we should climb there. Anyone inside would not expect an attack to come from above.”
Gronak works through his analysis of the tower... but realizes as he suggests it, that climbing the smooth walls of the 3 remaining foils would prove difficult at best, suicidal at worst for much of the party with its smooth walls and lack of windows or ledges.
The only obvious way in is the rubble of the East Foil.
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Peered at Urk for a few moments, then back to Gronak.
"Urk is his name. He does not climb with rope. We can haul him up, but it does not make him happy."
He then pointed to the rubble-filled area, where the tower was broken into already.
"The best way in would be there. If enemies inside, they know this too. Expect some resistance, if we go that way."
Pulling a long piece of leather from his belt, he placed a rounded rock in the middle of it and gripped the ends. He held himself with the others, ready to move forward.
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Ringo's eyes light up as a thought crosses his mind.
"One of my javelins could make it to the top to act as an anchor in lieu of the regular grappling hook," and just as quickly, his face turns to concern, "although looking around, I don't think I'd trust the anchoring base. Yes, let us proceed through the...entry."
Ringo's grip tightens on his guisarme, pointed toward the obvious point of entry.
"While I am experienced with climbing, the trees of Nirmathas are preferable to these walls before us."
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Kept watch around himself and the group, his keen eyes looking past the simple rubble and waste that filled the area. He also listened to Urk, in the random noises he would make, to see if the boar would give any warnings to the unseen.
"A good name, Cairnlands. Only the dead walk here. Or the soon to be dead."
He clicked his tongue once, causing Urk to close in nearby, ensuring he was not too far away from his half orc friend.
"Keep your eyes open..."
The party begins to trek forward carefully... the walls of the three intact appear to be amazingly smooth. The only way in appears to be the rubble of the Eastern wing .
As you get close, 3 mangy hungry dogs attempt to find a tasty meal in the gnome.
Bold May Act
Ringo
Dragos
Lugrok
Dogs
Wrofyx
Gronak
Urk
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"Ugh, unkempt beasts!"
With a look of disgust at the condition and apparent actions of the dogs, Ringo fast as lightning, steps diagonally forward while drawing and throwing one of his normal spears at the snarling beast directly ahead of him. He then resumes wielding the guisarme normally.
