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When Chief Yiddlepode explains the number of figures involved in the fateful encounter and their relative sizes, Haechi says, "Ah, excellent! That definitely clears things up. It appears that there is in fact no substantial discrepancy between the two accounts. One less thing to worry about, eh? Ha ha."
The wizard grins sheepishly as he thinks back and tries to figure out where he might have gone wrong. "If everyone spoke Draconic, things would be much less ambiguous," he concludes with a mental shrug. Thank Apsu that he wasn't a member of the Sewer Dragons or he'd never live this down.
Haechi now has a niggling sensation that he may have misunderstood the direction of the drill as well, but he feels on safer ground here. "The captain said the drill came from the streets and the chief said it came from below. Case closed. Phew!"
Haechi then wanders around the destruction and looks to see what he can determine anything about how the tunnel was formed...
... but is too timid to approach the unstable debris closely enough to get a good idea of the situation.
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Sewer Dragons is me family but Passa-finders family also.
Drazzel mentions to Yiddlepode as they take a small stroll.
Oh, yesss. Passa-finders treat Drazzel very good. Me sleep and eat and train with all the other Passa-finders. I's get plenty of food and have big sack full of feathers to sleep on. Many Passa-finders from far away places and cook strange foods, but, me like! Me's and some friends get in little bit of trouble playing small pranks once in while, but, nothing too bad.
He confesses with a small smirk.
Had to clean Drandle Dreng's chamberpot for a week's punishment once.
He whispers.
When Yiddlepode gives him the Wolf Fang, Drazzel stops dead in his tracks and smiles in surprise. He gently takes the talisman and stares at it in awe. He then looks back up at the Chief.
Oh, Thank you, Chief! I's will show you'se I will be Magnificent Mage of the Sewer Dragons and great dip'omat for Passa-finders.
Upon arriving back in the Sewer Dragons' common area, Drazzel spends some time catching up with members of his tribe. He introduces his Pathfinder companions to many of his closest tribe-mates.
You see,
He tells his Pathfinder friends,
Me's homeland is Osirion. I's come to Absalom with merchant caravan to sell wares many years ago. I meet Sewer Dragon tribe and they welcome me in. Since me from far away and speak different tongues, I could make deals and speak with Passa-finders for Sewer Dragons. Well, soon after, Passa-finders let me join as adventurin' merchant and agent.
Drazzel stands tall with a proud grin.
Me's haz two big families now!
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Drazzel looks up, somewhat surprised, at Kornel.
I hassa no idea what you'se mean, but, uh, thank you for saying me think smart.
He turns to the Chief.
Oh, beg pardon, Chief Yiddlepode. Us passa-finders told to ask Sleepless Suns group about strange happenings. Do you-sa have any info on Sleepless Suns? Hassa Sewer Dragons had run-ins with leader, Shristi Melipdra?
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Haechi, still feeling a little gun-shy around the Chief, says to his colleagues, "So, um... If we're all done here, shall we, uh... go talk to Shristi Melipdra about the badge that was dropped by the merged figure? Um... we can always go visit the museum afterwards."
The more he thought about it, the more Haechi felt that the obelisk in the museum could be of major importance. It was no coincidence that the brute was carrying around a picture of it. Perhaps it had been sent to retrieve it and needed to know what it looked like. Was it a cyclopean artifact? He wondered if there was anyone at the Lodge that could tell them more about it, after all, it was the Society that loaned the obelisk to the museum. A visit to the Grand Archive, or more likely, the Vigilant Seal, might be in order.
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Once back at the surface, a few questions around the Grand Lodge narrow down your trip into the Foreign Quarter to a neighbourhood known as Utterhome; you set off with little further delay. The Foreign Quarter district is a melting pot of cultures, peoples, and architecture, all living within densely-packed housing and colorful thoroughfares. It is popular among visitors and foreign immigrants, and you all hear snippets of conversation in dozens of languages as you make your way to your destination.
The neighbourhood of Utterhome (see Slides) seems filled with workers of all sorts. The streets teem with guards, medics, artisans, labourers, and others, many engaged in easy-going conversation. The central hub of the precinct appears to be a renovated and well-loved community building. A sign above the front steps leading to the open main door proclaim this to be the headquarters of the Sleepless Suns. Once inside, you discover that the building clearly appears to have once been an inn. From a shabby-but-comfortable reception desk, a shoony with scruffy tan fur sniffs at your entrance and greets you with gruff words.
"Welcome to Utterhome. How can I help you?"
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Kornel, with his ragged clothes, blends in well in the lower-class neighborhood of Utterhome. He gives gentle smiles and friendly nods to the people there.
When the Pathfinders encounter the shoony receptionist, Kornel looks mildly puzzled, though his constant grin doesn't fade much. It's clear he hasn't seen a member of the canine humanoid race before.
"This is the Sleeping Suns, right? We saw the sign outside. You have yourselves a nice place here!" the Varisian man greets the shoony, feigning to admire the shabby headquarter interior. "We are, ah, Pathfinders. Is Shristi here?"
"Hope he is not the arena; we have already had one life-threatening battle today, ah hah!" he adds a joke to lighten the mood.
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The shoony cocks their head at Kornel , turns in a tight circle at the compliment, and replies.
"I am Aubray, and yes, we are the Sleepless Suns. You want to see Captain Melipdra? You are in luck," and the shoony gestures her snout at an ageless-appearing Vudrani human coincidentally entering the room at that moment. He has graying hair pulled into a neat topknot sprouting from an otherwise bald pate and warm brown eyes that he directs first towards Aubray, who gives a short nod in wordless reply. He then approaches Kornel, offering a well-calloused hand-shake. The shoony returns to their paperwork, idly scratching behind their ear.
"Good day," the captain greets you all. "I am Shristi Melipdra, commander of the Sleepless Suns. Did I over-hear that you are from the Pathfinder Society? Glorious. What are your names?"
After greeting you all via hand-shake and repeating your names back as you introduce yourselves, he stands with his arms folded behind his back. "You can't drop a mustard seed in Absalom without it landing on a spot examined by a Pathfinder. And yet each mustard seed has its own spot. I wonder if you would share with me - each of you - what achievement that you've accomplished with your Society of which you're most proud. I am eager." He regards you with a blank but pleasant stare as Aubray shamelessly eave-drops.
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Kurvok folds his arms. ”I’ve only had one with the Society so far”, he says. ”In a gods-forsaken desert to the south, this woman had a puzzle box stolen. We had to impress the sphinx that claimed the box, in order to get it back. I showed them my power. They were impressed” The trace of a smile appears on his face.
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Me's like Utterhome. Good place to stay when you first arrive in city, 'specially if you'se from far away. You'se can always find someone who speak you'se language. I met Sewer Dragon who invited me to join tribe in alley over there.
He points to an alley entrance across the square. Seeing a familiar face nearby, he waves at a bread merchant selling loaves at a small cart.
Hi-sa, Bill! Long time no see! I'sa passafinder now!
Bill the baker replies with a wave and a smile.
Drazzel turns to his companions.
If'n you'se ever want bestest pretzels in Absalom, Bill the man to go to.
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Once inside the Sleepless Suns Headquarters, Drazzel is taken aback by the sight of the Shoony.
"Interesting. I's thought all Suns were hoo-mans."
He says to himself.
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"Mustard seeds? Whassa he mean by mustard seeds?”
He thinks to himself with a confused look. Then, Drazzel steps forward.
Warmest greetings to you, Mister Melipdra. I's Drazzel, Dragon Mage of the Passa-finders. Issa pleasure to meet you'se.
He bows respectfully then excitedly tells his story.
Me from far away Osirion. I's come to Absalom with merchant caravan to sell wares two years ago.
He says, holding up three fingers.
I's meet Sewer Dragons and they welcome me to join tribe since me know how to speak different languages and comfortable with dealing with many peoples. Since me from far away and speaks different tongues, I could make deals and speak with Passa-finders for Sewer Dragons. That got me foot in door with Passa-finders and I's join as adventurin' agent and merchant and special dip'omat.
Drazzel smiles proudly.
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"Am I to understand you're treating us to pretzels at Bill's after this mission?"
Darlann's lips twist in a faint smile as he looks upon Aubrey's interactions with Kornel. Venture-Captain Valsin did say the Sleepless Suns are all about diversity.
The half-elf shakes Melipdra's hand warmly, clearing his throat as the man inquires about the group's past Pathfinder activities.
"Darlann Sacragentum, pleased to make your acquaintance, sir. As for myself, this is my very first assignment with the Pathfinder Society, but I joined the Society under tutelage of my uncle, a seasoned Pathfinder in his own right. When my birth family and the church failed me, he thought the Pathfinder Society could be where I finally find a place to call home, and so far, I believe he was right."
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Kornel returns Shristi's handshake in kind; the captain may find Kornel's hand to have an unusually low body temperature. "Kornel Pastovic. Good to meet you."
"Me? Ah hah, I think my stories would bore you," Kornel laughs drily when prompted to tell a tale. "Until recently, I was taking part in establishing a new Pathfinder lodge in the nation of Razmiran. It is a lovely country and its people are nice. The building project went well, and we had a lot of free time. Hardly an adventure worth, ah, recounting. But it is good to have relaxing missions once in a while, eh? Ah hah."
Those who know of the church of Razmir and its oppressive theocratic dictatorship may find Kornel's tale a bit suspect.
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Haechi ponders Shristi's request to share a proud Pathfinder achievement. "Let's see now; there are so many great ones to pick from; which shall I choose? Oh, oh! I know the one. Here goes."
Haechi clears his throat in preparation, "Ahem!" and then proceeds. "One of my proudest achievements was my performance as Watcher-Lord Ulthun in a wonderful production of We be Heroes that we put on for the goblin king Zusgut. My sensitive take on the tortured Ulthun following the fall of Lastwall was enough to melt the goblin king's heart and allow us Pathfinders to continue on our mission. The reviews of my, um, our performance were rave. Yes indeed, practically rhapsodic in fact." Basking in the glow of this memory, he beams at Shristi in pride.
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"Well, I haven't been part of the society for long." Erathiel pauses for a short while, according to an elf. He soon after realizes the expecting eyes on the vudrani's face.
"I found myself in Osirion by a series of bad deals in my part, which I could describe in detail if we had more time. Suffice to say that you should never trust a half-drunk merchant. In any case, Drazzel and I met there and we helped a gnome by retrieving a family heirloom."
Erathiel gives another pause. "But I would say the most important work is that which I am doing right now with my friends here."
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Shristi nods in acceptance.
"How can I be of assistance to you and the Pathfinder Society?"
As you present the Sleepless Suns badge, the ageless face regards it with a flat expression. He takes it and turns it over in his hands. Finally, he bites at it between his teeth. He then smirks and hands it back.
"It's a counterfeit - well-made, no doubt, but the colour, the weight, and the borders of the Sleepless Eye decal are all incorrect."
As he takes the other coin, his lips turn down in concern. “This is the unholy sigil of the demon lord Urxehl, father of trolls. He heralds natural disasters and controls forest fires. I admit, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen a coin like this. I recently disbanded a cult of demon worshippers that were sacrificing their victims to a troll near the Docks. They carried coins like these. I’d hoped we captured them all, but if coins remain in circulation, then some have evaded capture.”
He hands back the coin.
"This confirms my fears. The cultists were meeting in a hidden shrine dedicated to Urxehl. I had ordered the area closed until it had been properly chronicled, but I've no misgivings about opening it back up to the Pathfinder Society. I’ll give you directions. Be sure to tread lightly; we have left the site in pristine condition for future cataloguing."
A commotion occurs from the counter-top where Aubray, craning their neck over the reception desk in order to catch all of the conversation, has knocked a large book to the floor. With a yelp, the shoony straightens up, wearing an embarrassed expression. Shristi turns to smile benignly at Aubray, then regards you all once more.
"What further questions do you have for me?"
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"I am glad to know the Suns aren't actually involved in this," Darlann says with a sigh of relief. "And of course, we are thankful for the additional information and any help you could provide us. If you need an area properly chronicled, you can hardly do a better job than the Society."
Taking the coin back from Shristi, the champion ponders a little.
"Is there a specific reason you can think of a demonic cult member would attempt to incriminate the Sleepless Suns with a false badge?"
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“I worry over the purpose behind this falsification,” Shristi admits solemnly. “It could indicate that they planned to target or infiltrate the Sleepless Suns. Perhaps they already have a cultist hidden among our ranks. I suspect it was also sign — a coded message that indicated to other cultists their meeting place was in the Foreign Quarter.” Shristi shrugs.
“Discerning the reason for the badge’s presence will be a priority when I next speak with the cultists.” His mouth sets in a firm line.
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Drazzel eyes the shoony suspiciously after it was seen listening to the conversation.
"Something not right about dog-face person."
Thank you'se for you'se time, Mister Melipdra. We's go check out building in dock district. One question: Are the cultists hoo-mans or mix of peoples?
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As they turn to leave the Sleepless Suns Headquarters, Drazzel turns to his companions.
C'mon. I get you'se each a giant hot pretzel from Bill on way to docks. They'se the best.
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"The cultists were a mixture of different races and creeds. The demon Urxehl seems to attract many to his weave of lies. They committed arson, kidnapping, and murder, all in the name of the Lord of Storms. We believe the cult turned violent a year ago. They were careful at first, but grew reckless in time. I regret it took as long as it did to free this district from their predations." Shristi looks even more humble than he previously has.
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'Urxehl's Pretzels' proves to be true to Drazzel's promise, serving the tastiest knot of fried dough any of you have ever had. Fortunately, the stall is on your way south to the edge of the Foreign District, where it borders the Docks district. When his unfortunate naming choice is pointed out to him, the halfling Bill ("Billikins T. Stetley, but Bill to my friends like Drazzel here") looks appalled.
"Father of Trolls, ya don't say?" he muses in a dazed fashion. "I just overhead the name from some people 'round these parts and liked the way it rhymed with 'pretzel'. Methinks I need a different name for my stall, yontcha think? Ya got anything witty that'll stay in people's heads?"
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"Hey, thanks!" Bill says with gratitude to Kornel's suggestion. "What does 'spectral' mean, again?"
A few hundred metres past Bill's newly-renamed pretzel cart, you follow Captain Melipdra's directions and turn down a dead-end alley. The entrance to the cult's shrine should rest unnoticed at the back of the alley, a non-descript shed amongst a bunch of non-descript buildings.
Shristi had stressed the fact that his team of Sleepless Suns had left the site pristine so as to later exhaustively catalogue anything that had been left behind as further clues about the cult, so when you all discover a broken padlock lying on the ground in front of the door, your mind begins to churn with questions.
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Me likes name "Spectral Pretzels". Very good.
Drazzel gazes in wonder at the delicious hot pretzel as it's handed to him and can barely wait to bite into it.
Thanksa, Bill! See you'se around soon.
He turns to his companions, nibbling on his pretzel, as they make their way to the docks.
Mmmm. Delicious! Enjoy, friends. Let'sa hurry to the Docks.
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"What further questions do you have for me?"
Haechi seems hesitant, but eventually speaks. Ah, yes. I have a question. We've been told that a few weeks ago, a clockwork drill dug its way deep underground from the city streets. I don't suppose you know where we might find the entrance to that tunnel? I suspect that these cultists of yours might also be behind the drilling of this hole."
"Oh, and one more thing." He then beckons to whomever has the picture of the obelisk that they found on the undead cyclops, and unfolds it so that Shristi can look at the image. "We found this picture while investigating the hole in the sewers. Do you recognize these markings at all? Could they be associated with Urxehl in any way?"
Haechi happily chews on the delicious pretzel that Drazzel had obtained for them. He preferred his pretzels without so much salt on them, but a little rubbing of the surface with a claw took care of that problem.
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"I had heard about this drill, but I was told that the Pathfinder Society was investigating this as it was thought to have originated within the Ascendant Court," Shristi reasons. "Still, if you were to connect these Urxehl cultists to that rampaging clockwork device, then do let us know and we can liaise with your Society."
He regards the picture of the obelisk. "Hmmm...those aren't Abyssal runes, but I believe that that lower-most rune references the Abyss. It looks like the Abyssal rune for 'the Abyss' save for that phlange there." He points at one of the small central details to the rune. "Sorry that I'm not much more assistance."
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Darlann follows Kurvok's suit, readying his shield as the group reaches the cultists' shed.
"I've got this uneasy feeling that someone got word of our, or the Suns', investigation, and decided to bury some clues before we got here. We must proceed with caution, the place could be trapped... or there could still be unsavoury types inside."
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Down at the end of the cluttered alley, the cadre of cautious Pathfinders crowd around the once-locked shed door. Kurvok and Darlann prep their shields, confident of danger beyond. Erathiel slips lithely amongst the detritus surrounding the group, looking for unseen dangers and ambushes. Haechi's eyes glow with an arcane flare as he scans the environs for magical dweomers while Drazzel attempts to become one with the shadows. Kornel steps brazenly to the closed-but-unlocked door, analysing the scene for clues.
Kornel sighs, then pops open the door. The hinges sing in irritated harmony as a puff of acrid smoke pours out and dissipates into the sky. Frozen in place lest something follow, Kornel blinks slowly, then urges the door fully open. Within the ten-foot-square stone shed, the stone walls are blackened and the air reeks of bitter ash. A thin wooden floor panel has largely burnt away, revealing a spiral staircase leading below ground. Apart from the scant light let in from the alley, the structure is dark.
Proceeding cautiously, the team descends fifteen feet down the spiral stairs into the shrine to the Trollfather below. Black as pitch and rife with a smoky odour, the coarse masonry walls and high ceiling of the shrine are coated in heavy soot. The fitted stone floor is obscured by mounds of burnt wood, broken furniture, ash, and soot, some of which are still smouldering. Two hallways off of this chamber end in mounds of rubble. A few crumbling stone pillars carved to depict flames still stand throughout the destroyed room. A large iron brazier large enough to hold a person sits on a platform at the east end of the hall, surrounded by a channel of black sludge and accessed by a small ramp.
As the group forms into a guarded position in uneasy silence, the largest heap of ash in the crime scene begins to churn and swirl. Massive limbs and trunks separate out from the ash as three large skeletal figures, bony jaws agape, advance on the party!
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Drazzel sticks his hand in his pocket and grasps the magical trinket that the Sewer Dragons gifted to him for being an upstanding member of the tribe. He is very appreciative of the gesture but knows he has no use for it. This is a talisman for a warrior and Drazzel is no warrior. The Pathfinders are his family now, too. He realizes it would be more wise to let one of his companions have it so that they could use it in their time of need.
He slows his pace a bit to fall back near the rear of the group, then falls in step next to Kurvok. He looks up at Kurvok and makes an annoying little grunt-squeak sound to get the orc's attention.
Grriiick.
As the irratated orc glares down at Drazzel, he holds the talisman up to Kurvok and speaks in a whisper.
Me's want you to haz this. You are me fellow passa-finder and I's consider you friend. You may still be mad from what I did in Eto, but, I's would never do you'se wrong. Here, take it.
Drazzel offers a friendly smile and explains how the Wolf Fang works.
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Down in the lair...
Drazzel creeps slowly between his friends to get further into the room and notices large bony creatures rising from a pile of smoldering debris.
With plenty of litter and rubble around, he spies a chunk of stone near his foot. With an incantation and a flick of his finger, he sends the stone flying at one of the creatures.
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Drazzel sends a chunk of stone flying into one of the fearsome-looking skeletal heaps of ash, crushing a sizeable swath of bone to white ash. The elf springs forward and slashes with his blade, the initial strike doing little discernible damage.
But the second strike crumbles the entire hulking thing to a pile on the floor. Erathiel has little time to celebrate as the skeletons move quickly, one at the red-scaled kobold, and the far skeleton diagonally at him.
Erathiel dodges one claw before catching a raking attack across the chest, but Drazzel isn't as lucky, falling under the barrage of razor-sharp bones and teeth.
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Kornel, torch in one hand, descends into the soot-covered chamber. The next thing he knows, he's face-to-face with yet more undead monstrosities. He chuckles, "Ah hah, what is it today with the undead, eh, frien-?" He stops mid-speech when he notices that the party is in real danger.
Drazzel has gone down, and so it's time the party's de-facto main healer provided assistance: Kornel spellcasts a healing ray towards his fellow sorcerer.
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As the irratated orc glares down at Drazzel, he holds the talisman up to Kurvok and speaks in a whisper.
Me's want you to haz this. You are me fellow passa-finder and I's consider you friend. You may still be mad from what I did in Eto, but, I's would never do you'se wrong. Here, take it.
Drazzel offers a friendly smile and explains how the Wolf Fang works.
That almost-smile returns to Kurvok’s face. ”Nah, we’re square, little man”, he replies, ”but thanks”
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"Again with the fire, again with the undead! This cannot be a coincidence. Iomedae, Torag, Sarenrae, grant me strength!"
Darlann steps up to the nearer skeleton, shield already raised. Seeing Erathiel's initial, accurate sword blow failing to damage the bony creatures, he draws his warhammer and swings it at the undead.
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Kornel heals Drazzel back to life before pondering the existence of their foes.
Darlann, unburdened by such ruminations, jumps into a flanking pose and crushes the skeleton that felled Drazzel. The large monster collapses into a pile of ash. Before Kornel can shout out a warning, the skeleton targeted by Erathiel reforms with vindiction!
The elf falls as an ash skeleton erupts from the heap that Erathiel had previously cut down, claws scoring multiple wounds on the surprised rogue.
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Haechi was concentrating on scanning for traces of magic when he is momentarily stunned by the appearance of the three large ashen skeletons. "Oh dear, what have we here?" he exclaims in surprise.
He sees Drazzel go down and groans inwardly to himself. "Ooo, that looks like it hurt." He pokes his head around the corner, happy for the cover provided by the adjacent wall, and looks for an opportunity to act.
Seeing his opening, Haechi eyes a still smouldering piece of burnt wood and with a practiced flick of his risk and a "magnum sceletus plus semel mori" sends it flying at the nearest large skeleton.
Without missing a beat, he once gain flicks his wrist at the same skeleton and a small bolt of pure energy leaps from his palm and follows the same path as the earlier piece of wood he sent it's way.
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Kurvok roars and rushes forward, making use of the item given to him from Drazzel. Unfortunately, his aim seems off, and both his attempt at upending the skeleton and striking it whiff. Haechi has better luck, and with his initial projectile, the skeleton immediately threatening the fallen Erathiel (and now, Kurvok) crumbles once more to ash.
Haechi blasts the other skeleton.
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Drazzel dreams of munching on a tower made entirely of pretzels, but, the dream suddenly ends when he feels the pleasant tingling sensation of magical healing.
His eyes pop open and as he moans in pain, he sees his friends in battle with the skeletal ash giants. In the flickering light, he watches in shock as his kobold friend drops unconscious at the foot of an ashen undead that has risen again from undeath!
He shakes his head to gather his senses and wobbles to his feet, throwing a "thank you" nod at Kornel for the healing.
Whaaa? Whassa going on? They's reforming!
Knowing that his stone flinging works well against the creatures, he sends another chunk of rubble flying at the creature that struck Haechi.
How do we keeps 'em from re-formin'!?!
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Drazzel gets up, and still unsteady on his feet and a bit disoriented, mistakes Erathiel's body on the ground for his kobold colleague Haechi (who stands behind him and to the left). His telekinetic projectile suffers from the same disorientation as well, firing off the mark on the large enemy.
The skeleton takes the opportunity to tear into the orc - once, twice, three times!
The monstrous burnt skeleton hooks one cruel claw into the orc, then tears a second claw straight down Kurvok's chest and abdomen, spilling his intestines out as it rends the orc. Kurvok collapses in a widening-pool of blood, and just like that - POOF! - the skeleton collapses back into a pile of ash!
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Haechi is horrified to see Erathiel and Kurvok go down in quick succession. "Uh oh, I don't like the way this is going", he thinks, and nervously glances at the stairs behind him, trying to decide what to do next. He shakes his head and chastises himself for his shameful thoughts. "No, no. I cannot abandon my friends to their fates." He steels himself for what is to come.
He toys with the idea of running up to his downed colleagues and feeding them some elixirs, but having witnessed first hand what these creatures can do, he knew it would be suicide. Without a target though, he was at a loss as to what to do. Fortunately, Kornel calls out and targets the pile of ash with his spell. "Huh, why didn't I think of that."
The wizard calls over his shoulder to his familiar safely ensconced in his backpack.
As he drains the magical energy from his familiar, Haechi's hands curl up into fists and popping the index finger of each one straight out, he yells "cinis sceletus manducet missilia", and makes pew, pew, pew motions with each hand towards the ash pile of the skeleton that was looming over his two fallen comrades. From his fingers, three lumps of concentrated energy shoot forth and slam into the ash pile at the same time.