To most, Mount Shibotai's devastating eruption was a footnote in Tian history. To the shadow-bound wayangs who settled the jagged crater in Minata, the volcano was the reason they inhabited Golarion at all. In their de facto capitol Inahiyi, the wayangs host an annual festival to commemorate the catastrophe that brought them into this world and forced them to ally with their neighbors against a common threat. On especially auspicious anniversaries, the wayangs invite foreigners to contribute to the ceremony, and the Pathfinder Society has negotiated the privilege of having its agents observe the sacred ceremonies as these outside participants. This is no mere anthropological opportunity, though, and the PCs may be all that stands between their world and an unspeakable evil.
A dismal downpour of rain accompanies the humidity-laced streets of Dtang Ma’s capital, Ramparassad.
The brief scent of thick tobacco fills the air just outside the appropriately named storefront: “Pak’s Tobacco and Spice”.
Inside, Old Pak sits behind a counter in the otherwise closed shop, enjoying a pull from his long pipe.
He is accompanied by a small, pale figure with multiple tattoos and piercings who wanders down the rows of collected masks opposite the entrance.
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A young dwarf shakes the rain from his hat, even though he has done that three times already. He tries to appear unconcerned, but given the constant glances to any reflective surface, he seems sure the humidity has caused his eyeliner to run.
He wears a black military jacket festooned with buttons, mostly of skulls, flames and flaming skulls. A permanent three day beard covers his chin, thin due in part to the burns that mar much of his face. In the crook of his arm he holds a crystal statue of a serpentine figure.
"Galdur XXII," he mutters. He self-consciously clears his throat and says a little more clearly. "but call me Fichaed Sadhà, Twenty-two in Taldane,".
He hides the fine sapphire ring by shoving his hand into a pocket. I am NOT my uncle.
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A tall wolf-headed humanoid ducks as he enters the store. He looks a sorry sight with his fur all matted and damp, but he resists the urge to shake it off, and instead growls his displeasure.
Why does this society send us so far for its missions? They have more money than sense. It will be weeks before I see Greta or Elena again.
He has a scythe on his back, the only thing left from his farm, and a heavy pack slung over his leather armour. He does his best to turn his growl into a toothy grin, which really doesn't work on his snout.
"Grrrreetings Fichaed Sadhà. I am Marius"
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The door opens to reveal a drenched, shivering halfling with a small pack on his back. He is rail-thin and looks a little malnourished. If closely inspected, there are hints of bruising on his neck. He wears the simlest of clothing that looks to possibly be his only pair. His hair is unkempt and he looks around nervously.
The halfling stands at the door looking around with concern. "Uhm," he says quietly. "I'm Figg. I was told to come here.."
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A tall, muscled Nagaji follows Figg through the door. His olive green scales glisten and the corners of his mouth raise as he grins at the room. His brightly polished boots clop as he walks across the floor to shake hands with everyone. The brass buttons on his uniform coat gleam almost as brightly as his scales.
Good day. I am Kinshasa.
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A male human limps in to the hall. Behind his fierce-looking purple eyes and stern gaze is a kind heart and soft voice.
"Rossby Num. I'm here with the Pathfinder Society ... oh, I guess we all are."
He plops down on a chair, exhausted from the effort of walking. I don't know how these air-breathers do it, he thinks to himself. He recalls his former life as an azurketi.
When someone of authority enters, Rossby snaps to his feet, as he once did as a soldier.
Wayangs are short humanoids who are usually gaunt and have large noses. Their skin is often a muted gray, but many wayangs ritually bleach their skin and wear many piercings. As a species, wayangs originated on the Shadow Plane, but they were trapped on the Material Plane millennia ago when their portals home closed unexpectedly.
Though it is one of the most populous settlements of the archipelago nation of Minata, Inahiyi has very little contact with the rest of the world. The settlement is located on the ring of islands known as the Shibobekas, which were once the immense volcano Mount Shibotai. The islands are now inhabited by various tribes of wayangs, with Inahiyi being their de facto capital.
The wayangs of Inahiyi settled their city to keep watch over a shadowy presence they believe dwells within the remains of the volcano. History states that wayangs came to this location near the end of Tian Xia’s Age of Ashes to attempt to return to the Shadow Plane, but accidentally unleashed powerful, evil entities instead. With the help of a few Minatan heroes, they trapped one of the creatures and are now devoted to maintaining its prison.
Very few people have heard of Abbinthurtaa, the Inahiyan festival that commemorates the city’s founding. Despite the wayangs’ reclusiveness, rumors have surfaced that the celebration is part of an elaborate ritual the wayangs perform to keep a shadowy evil imprisoned. However, most believe that the rites are simply part of an elaborate allegory representing the wayangs’ inner struggle with their darker selves. Some outspoken wayangs have declared the rituals to be a hoax, and hope to one day reveal the pointlessness of their kindred’s ceremonies.
Old Pak looks at all of you with a smile.
He stands up from behind the counter nods at the small, pale Wayang lady with multiple tattoos and piercings.
“Greetings, Pathfinders,” Old Pak welcomes you.
”I am glad you could make it. The tea is already boiling and should be ready soon! My guest here, is Harjandi, who joins us from the usually reclusive Minatan city of Inahiyi with a request for aid. It’s rare for the wayangs of that region to venture out of their homeland, and I’ve decided to hear her message; and based on your prompt arrival, it seems you have too!”
The wayang woman nods, turning from her tour of the masks.
“Though Inahiyi has few visitors, we have heard tales of the great Pathfinder Society and their interest in and respect for history and ritual. My city holds an annual festival to commemorate its founding, which was also when we came to friendly terms with the locals of Minata. The celebration includes ceremonial reenactments of our dealings with those ancient humans, roles that my fellow wayangs usually don masks and costumes to portray. Approximately every half a century, however, the festival falls on the autumnal equinox and tradition requires that outsiders participate.”
Harjandi continues, “The celebration is only a few days away, and if you accompany me back home, we will be happy to compensate you for your time. You’ll also have the esteem of being among the very few outsiders to witness our rituals. And, of course, you will be treated as guests of honor at the festival.”
Old looks at you again.
“Not to mention the possibility of strengthening ties between the Society and Inahiyi,” Old Pak adds, suddenly coughing as the sound of a boiling kettle startles him from the last inhalation from his pipe.
“Tea’s ready!”
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Marius watches the others arrive, his mood softening as he dries out. By the time tea is mentioned he's looking rather more contented.
So that's a wayang. Most interesting
"Once every 50 years? That is an honour. How will we be participating if? Do we need any special equipment?"
Marius looks nervous, but his sensitive nose twitches just before the kettle boils and he takes a deep breath when it's ready.
"Tea would be lovely, thank you"
Old Pak pours tea for Marius and smiles.
He looks at Drelluandast and Rossby and nods. "An honor indeed! Try not to be too disruptive, and foster good relations with the locals. Any information you can bring back about their culture—and this festival in particular— will help the Society properly catalog the information for future use by field agents."
Harjandi looks at Marius and tries to answer his question, "You participating will definitely not be too strenuous. There is a mock fight, a debate, and a feast accompanied by a shadow-puppet play. Events that we hold every year. Anything you need for these rituals will be provided. They are very important to us.
Looking at Rossby she thinks.
"Well there is only one taboo. We would never expect nor accept a gift. You are our guests, after all. If you wish to show your gratitude, do so by throwing yourselves fully into the spirit of the festival."
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The young dwarfs thanks Pak for the tea, sipping it properly.
"What do the reenactments look like?" Fichead asks while visions of pre-pubescent dwarves climbing out of boxes wearing balsa wood helms and horse-hair beards pretend to see the sky for the first time.
Hoping he doesn't sound too childish, he also asks, "Can you tell me more of the masks too? Please?"
The Wayang lady thinks for a moment.
”The reenactments are rituals. They’re important to the history of our people. Wayangs from all across Tian Xia were involved in an attempt to return to the Shadow Plane from the site that would become my home of Inahiyi. While we did not succeed, we honor the attempt by means of these rituals! All further details will be provided!“
She touches her piercings.
”The masks? As the first ritual event nears, you must choose masks and ribbons. As part of the festival, each of you should take on the role of a different historical Minatan hero, wearing the appropriate mask and matching ribbon so that the spectators know which hero you are portraying!!“
Old Pak stands up.
”Make your preparations and then begin the journey! We are in a hurry!!“
Harjandi leads you through Ramparassad's crowded, hot, and rainy streets. The smaller woman seems to have less trouble navigating the crowds than her larger charges as she dodges between the legs of hurried traders and travelers.
The crowd thins as you reach the docks.
"This is our transport," says the wayang woman. The sailors on the Spider's Silk eye the wayang warily but do not object as she crosses the gangplank.
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Allow me a few moments to collect my mount from the stables. Which town gate shall I meet you at?
After getting his reply Kinshasa strides out of the room and towards the stables.
As you arrive at the gates Kinshasa sits atop a large sized constrictor snake. His feet in the stirrups and his gear stowed in saddle bags.
Hello there. Shall we depart? he calls as he sees the group approaching.
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Marius stops by a market stall and has an embarrassing time trying to communicate his desire for tea and a kettle. He comes away with a travel kettle and some meditation tea and an uneasy sensation that he has spent far too much on them. He also bought a strange pair of smoked goggles without intending too, but getting them removed from the deal was too much trouble.
When he sees Kinshasa aboard the large snake, he is taken aback.
"That is quite the mount!"
The sailors look concerned and start mumbling when they see the snake.
"A sn ... snake!?" shouts the captain, suddenly.
Your wayang sponsor hurries over to the captain where they carry out a heated argument.
You think that you hear Harjandi say, "At least it is not a tiger."
The captain warns Harjandi, "If you can't control it, I'm sure my men can figure something to do with it."
The men draw up the gangplank and toss the ropes. Two man-powered tugs begin rowing the cargo ship out to open water.
Harjandi meets you at your convenience.
"You're free to go above deck as long as you stay out of trouble," she says.
"If you're in the mood to chat, why don't you tell me why you volunteered for this assignment? Or were you assigned?! Not that we're not excited to have you as our guests."
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Fichead thinks of the massive hands ruffling his hair as a kid. The hands, nearly the size of his whole body, appeared to be cut from pure emerald, but were delicate enough for jewelry work.
"I guess I was chosen because I have always been around outsiders. My uncle's companion is an earth elemental. And I have Susie Derkins as well," He points at the carving in its makeshift sling. "Plus I can do this."
He pulls a bit of wax from a pouch and shapes it in his hands. He focuses a bit of energy into the wax which seems to burn away, turning into a smokey dolphin. The dolphin is full size by the time it lands in the water it shadowy form swimming alongside the Spider's Silk. "I can do an elemental too, but when I tried it the poor octopus sunk like a... well like a stone."
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Kinshasa leads Kokina aboard. He places her within the assigned stall, gives her a few rubs on the neck and leaves her. I will come and feed you later. Stay out of trouble.
His mount securely aboard Kinshasa wanders around the deck. He is very interested in the running of the ship. Of course he has been aboard a vessel before. He had to sail from Nagajor to Absalom, but the sailing life is not that different to that of a soldier. He takes the time to make small talk with the sailors.
Kokina nuzzles Kinshasa's hand as he places her within her stall. When he leaves she curls herself up and dozes. The cool of the sea water against the sides of the boat making her drowzy.
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Marius keeps to himself as much as he can, but he replies when Fichead conjures a smokey creature.
"That is impressive." After a moment he continues "I was chosen too, in a way. My farm in Ustalav was raided by ignorant fools who mistook us for werewolves. Agents of the society sheltered us, and they told me my skills could be useful here. I joined to provide for my family. As a farmer will little education and an unusual appearance I volunteer for every mission, and do my best if they'll have me."
Figg is treated like a friend after he volunteered to clean the ship with the crew.
The crew is still a little intimidated by Kinshasa and his snake but the small talk helps to make clear that the Pathfinders are friendly.
And after Fichead ends his little summoning performance the crew was ultimately convinced that you guys are not the typical passenger.
Harjandi is pleased to hear Fichead‘s and how Marius‘ stories.
“It will be these past experiences of yours as well as your true motivation to support our ritual that will be essential to make this endeavor a success!“
The Spider's Silk sails into Inahiyi's port early afternoon on the day after embarking. The gray garbed and gaunt-looking wayang on the docks are attentive to the arriving ship, their wiry arms belie the strength they demonstrate in hauling the ropes and carrying crates. Black and gray flags flutter in the sea breeze along the length of the pier.
Harjandi leads you down the gangplank to meet with the mayor of Inahiyi.
"This is Mayor Farzhan," she introduces him with a polite but stiff bow.
The ancient wayang grins from ear to ear (literally) as you approach.
"These are our honored guests? So pleased! So pleased!" he practically falls over himself bowing to each of you, "We are so pleased to host the fabled Pathfinders for this cycle's ceremony!"
Behind you, you hear a loud crash as two more gangplanks are laid against the ship in preparation for leading Kokina off of the ship.
The mayor bows again.
"How was your trip? Are you hungry? Are you thirsty?" the mayor practically bounces with excitement.
Harjandi interrupts the mayor, "I am sure they are quite tired from the voyage and would like to rest. Let me get them settled at Unelda's before you overwhelm them with your questions."
The charger whinnies as loudly as the wayang try to coax him onto the widened gangplank.
"Oh! Of course. Of course," Farzhan says, bowing several times in a row, "Please, make yourselves comfortable in our humble village."
Harjandi moves away and beckons you to follow.
Inahiyi is a small town made of short structures, most of which you would require you to stoop. The wayang folk in town are all dressed in clothes ranging from black to medium gray. They wave and smile pleasantly at you, but otherwise go about their busy preparations in silence. For a town preparing for celebration, it is eerily quiet. Banners and flags of black and dark gray cloth are hung across the streets in the same way other villages would hang colorful streamers and flags.
Harjandi leads you to a boarding house. The ceiling is a little higher than average, allowing you to stand tall, but you cannot avoid the knowledge that if you lifted yourself on your tip toes, you'd likely bump your head.
The owner, Unelda, greets you warmly, "Welcome! Our home is your home, honored guests. Please, your rooms are this way."
Your rooms were obviously designed for small folk. The chest of drawers in each room is comically small, and the two beds in each room have been lined up foot-to-head to make it longer, if not wider.
"Once you are settled, you are free to explore the village and partake in the festivities as our guest," Harjandi informs you, "I will let you rest for now. We will find you when it is time to prepare for the ceremony."
The local wayangs eagerly await outsider participation in this year’s festival. The past few celebrations have been a bit dull, and many hope that newcomers can inject some excitement into the proceedings. In particular, Mayor Farzhan has been practicing his part of the final midnight festival all week.
The wayangs participating in the mock combat have seemed a bit distracted all morning. They’ve secluded themselves until the fight. Some say it is a bit of stage fright, while others think they are nervous to be facing off against a group of strangers.
Eynemb, a local scholar, is leading the wayang team during the second event. He is an accomplished debater, and most citizens believe he is going to win handily, though they are interested in seeing how the Pathfinders acquit themselves.
Rossby and Figg make contact easily!
You are able to indulge in a number of exotic treats: boiled snails dipped in butter, sweet tasting nuts coated in a green powder that is so spicy that it generates actual heat in your mouth, a cool, soothing yellow slug wrapped in salty fresh sea weed, a variety of fried fishes, diced panther heart dipped in a tangy red sauce, and sweet pastries filled with a tart, blue berry filling.
While some of them are an experience to remember, none of them make you ill.
All of the vendors are quite happy to meet the long awaited Pathfinders.
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Rossby will have more of those spicy nuts and berry tarts. They don't have much of those where he comes from.
"It looks like The local wayangs eagerly await outsider participation in this year’s festival. The past few celebrations have been a bit dull, and many hope that newcomers can inject some excitement into the proceedings. In particular, Mayor Farzhan has been practicing his part of the final midnight festival all week," he reports to the group.
"The wayangs participating in the mock combat have seemed a bit distracted all morning. They’ve secluded themselves until the fight. Some say it is a bit of stage fright, while others think they are nervous to be facing off against a group of strangers. Are we really that intimidating?"
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Drelluandast eagerly tries the sweet pastries and fried fish, but he spends more time moving through the markets in search of fine inks and paints. I bet I can find some great blacks and whites! he thinks to himself as he tries to spot a likely seller. It'd be easy to make any shades of gray needed. And everything is sized just like home!
Drelluandast soon realizes that tattoos and body modifications are very popular and ink is easily available at the tattoo shop.
"Oh, certainly, yes, we have inks in blacks and whites!" the tattooist at the stall Goran chose says, eager to meet one of the Pathfinders.
"I don’t know what you are planning Mr Gnome Sir but I could have one of my assistants modify your ear while I ink a tattoo?!? You probably won't notice the stab and black and white are the perfect colors! What do you think would suit you?!?"
The tattooist waits for Goran to accept with a big smile.
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Fichead wonders the stalls in mock boredom. His amazement is clear however with each new thing he discovers. "I mean, yeah, OK whatever. That's cool."
He pays particular interest at the jewelry shops asking about which wax was used to cast this silver ring, or about the polishing brushes one might use on that string of pearls.
"Does the piercing remain if one gets magical healing?" he asks of one vendor, thinking of how many times his career has necessitated the wand at his side.
The piercing studio owner is thrilled to see Fichead.
“Sir Dwarf of course!! As long as the piercing remains you can enjoy it as long as you wish!!! I suggest the traditional ear ring which unfortunately won’t be visible beneath your hair but I’ll pierce your body anywhere you want!! We’ve had peculiar requests recently but I assure you: we keep everything confidential!!“ the little Wayang says with a grin.
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"Oh, these are for calligraphy!" Drelluandast explains cheerfully. "Do you think they'll work on paper and cloth as well as they do on fabric? What kinds of shapes and designs do you usually use? Can I see some of the work you've done? I'm an aspiring artist myself and I'd love to study your work!" The gnome declines the offer of a tattoo or piercing, but is eager to talk technique and shop with the other artists.
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Marius indulges himself in the delicacies, he's especially interested in anything with meat. The diced panther heart agrees with him, and he finds himself in quite a good mood after trying a few drinks in the tavern, even if he does need to order several of the small drinks at once.
Eventually in the spirit of integration he'll accept a piercing. A tattoo wouldn't work under all his fur, but he's got plenty of ear to work with, so asks for a traditional ear ring.
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Figg wanders up to Rossby innocently and tugs on his shirt. "Umm...Master Num," he whispers, "I heard that Eynemb, a local scholar, is leading the wayang team during the second event. They say he is an accomplished debater, and most of the creepy doll people believe he is going to win handily, though they are interested in seeing how we acquit themselves."
Eventually in the spirit of integration he'll accept a piercing. A tattoo wouldn't work under all his fur, but he's got plenty of ear to work with, so asks for a traditional ear ring.
"Do you have anything with a sapphire?" Fichead says, deciding on an eyebrow piercing or three.
“Of course we have sapphire!! And so glad that your wolf human friend came along, too!! And it is for free for you oh honored guest!!“
The piercing expert waits for Fichead and Marius to lie down before he begins. The process is excruciating. It is not so much pain after all. The Wayang takes an awl and hammers it through Fichead's eyebrow and Marius earlobe. You definitely felt the experience.
Once he is finished, you both have piercings with sapphires in wayang style--stylized and more tribal where moments before there were bloody holes in your earlobe / eyebrow.
“Remember Sir Dwarf and Sir wolf man,“ says the piercer, “No swimming in the sea for three days, and you can change the pegs once a week!“