Hello all, this is a game being run for the online PbP convention Outpost IV, #4-02: In Wrath's Shadow (Standard).
It is recruited via spreadsheet, so head over here FIRST, sign up on the line for this game (it was line 29 as of the time of this post) and then come on back to dot into gameplay.
One further note, the earliest you can sign up is January 26th if you are GM'ing something for the convention or January 29th if you are a general player.
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The port is bustling and all you know is the name of the sloop where your mission will start. After asking for directions (the scamp charged a dang silver) you make your way to the proper dock. The ship is being loaded and the quartermaster eyes your approach, "Pathfinder Passenger?"
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A large wide creature walks up the plank. Passenger Aye. He steps out of the way and silently waits.
He is a sizable humanoid with bits of granite and crystal in his skin. He wears the long white robe of a priest of Anubis over his heavy armor. His helmet is fitted with a mask that makes his head look like a jackal. He is also equipped with a large flail and a bow. He looks (and is) slow. However you can imagine that he would be a pretty good fortress for spellcasters to hide behind.
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Zzorn walks to the Quartermaster proudly, puffing his chest and inhaling a deep breath, taking in all the glory and history of the place. Turning to Goe Lem, he extends his hand to shake his, first introducing himself to the oread, and then proceeding to greet the others.
"You must be the famous Goe Lem: I am pleased to finally meet you. Your reputation precedes you and the tales do not paint the complete picture of your full stature Sir, if I may say so. Pathfinder Agents: well met. I am Visbaron Zzorn Eilif from Falling River in Taldor, and I've heard much about you all and it will be my honor to assist you in this mission," says the Visbaron, just before heading up the plank behind Goe.
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"Order of the Gate? from Cheliax yes? well met Ser Galimar. It is most unusual to see colleagues from Cheliax who are also members of of the Silver Crusade. I applaud you for this, as your presence is the proof that Cheliax is not only the home of devil worshippers, but also the home of noble, hard-working, generous law-abiding citizens! Perhaps in time, the good will outweigh the evil found in your nation. Let me know if the help of Taldor or the Sovereign Court would be desired in this endeavor... who knows? perhaps joint missions like these will pave the way for much needed reforms in both our home nations!"
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"Glad to hear it! to be honest, I heard that methods and practices vary wildly between each Hellknight orders. Yours in particular, and you may correct me if this is wrong, is shrouded in rumor and mystery. Pray tell: why is it called the Order of the 'GATE'? is it true that your order is mostly composed of spellcasters who have regular dealings with fiends from the lower planes?"
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A strange figure is slumped beneath the sloop's topsail, snoring loudly. He is covered in tattoos, all of them displaying words in a variety of scripts and languages, so many of them that it's a bit difficult to make out whether he is human or perhaps an elf or perhaps something in between. He is wearing a wayfinder over a set of tie-died pajamas and the pajamas appear to have a variety of notes pinned to them.
He startles violently, stretches lazily, yawns, spits, and looks around the room with bleary eyes. "Oh. Hello. I'm - I'm - I'm..." He trails off in confusion. "It's a pleasure to meet you all. I'm..." He looks around the room, as if perhaps he might find some clue or indication, something to get his bearings. He rubs his eyes to be sure that he is actually awake, and gives himself a good strong pinch. "Ow! Hmm, well I'm awake, no doubt about that, but that doesn't help much to know that, if I don't know who it is that is awake, now does it? I don't suppose any of you know? Frightfully embarrassing, I must say, I'm sure that it will come to me in just a moment, but for just now, I have to admit that I don't have the faintest idea who I am or what I might be doing here. Perhaps you can assist me?"
Pinned to his pajama shirt is a note with large, bold writing: "Birseko Naam - if found, return to nearest Pathfinder Lodge."
Staring down at the note, the figure reads it, and then softly whispers, "Birseko Naam, birseko naam... I wonder if that could be me? I feel so unsure of everything just now, it's as if you wake from a dream and you can't decide if you are awake or still asleep..." He pauses, and then exclaims, "Dreams! Yes, that is one thing I DO remember, in my dream, though it was REAL, not a dream at all, mi'lord appeared to me, assuring me that his time is coming, and that I should go forth to herald him. Lord Ranginori returns! Let all know and tremble!" A look of consternation and confusion crosses swiftly over his brow. "That was real, wasn't it? I saw it in my dream but I'm quite sure it was real, as sure as I am of my own..." He trails off, uncertain, eyes aglow with a mixture of fervent devotion and the straining for memories that seem to dance just out of reach.
He looks around at the assembled pathfinders. "So, my friends, here I am, whoever that is, and I am at your service. You may call me Birseko Naam."
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Zzorn looks at man in pajamas ranting on the upper deck amidst the busy sailors. "Mister Naam yes? did I hear correctly? pleased to meet you Mister. Yes, I do believe you are supposed to join us in this mission, if this list I have here is to be trusted. Rest assured, I am certain someone will be here soon to assist you with your particular needs and travel requirements. In the meantime, perhaps you could follow us below decks and let these fine sailors cast away? I'm afraid our gathering crowd is starting to interfere with their duties..."
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Birseko amiably follows Zzorn below the decks, barely seeming to notice all the work the sailors are engaged with. He scribbles little notes to himself to help him remember things: "my bunk is 3rd on the left" "walk to the front of the ship for the toilet - they call it a head" "don't jump overboard" and pins them to his pajamas.
The quartermaster seemed like he was about to say something about a gaggle of people in his way, but the pathfinders had already started moving below decks to find their bunks so he just hollers for all to hear, "Shoving off in two hours. Make ready."
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A small furry animal enters the boat. a piece of fish into her maws
Lybna, come back here, little thief! I just bought this as a treat for you if you behaved well during the meeting, but you had to gorge yourself on it right now, of course!
A dwarf soon comes and pick the weasel, and then notices the other passengers. He doesn't seem that angry against the animal, who eats the treat glutonously
Sorry for the interruption, fellow Pathfinders. My name is Eredur Smagg the Younger, and this is Lybna.
Eredur wears a very light armor, more a kind of padding than anything else, and he carries a splendid, ornate warhammer and a sharp_looking battleaxe made of cold iron.
He looks around, but doesn't recognise any of you. He offers a solid handshake.
Nice to meet new faces. Did we have details on the mission already?
Roused from sleep and herded aboard the Winking Wyvern, the party sails urgently for Rivenrake Island and the ruins of Xin-Bakrakhan, ancient capital of the Thassilonian Runelord of Wrath. A note from Venture-Captain Sheila Heidmarch informs the group that a Society-funded dig team has uncovered a totally intact temple that appears to be associated with the goddess Lissala, buried for 10,000 years. Given the fresh revelations that this long-thought-dead cult is thriving and allied with the Aspis Consortium, it’s a truly wonderful find, providing an unprecedented opportunity to gain knowledge of this forgotten faith. Even if the site turns out to not be dedicated to Lissala, learning more about the faiths and practices of ancient Thassilon always provides an abundance of knowledge. Often the items they use in their rituals lead to clues about the cults.
By now the work crew has finished clearing the site—the time to explore its secrets is at hand. The Society has no exclusive contract to the site, and Aspis Consortium agents scour the countryside seeking such ripe targets, so time is of the essence. Archaeologists Halla Beusophis and Kovo Murse can answer questions when the group arrives, and a fellow Pathfinder ranger, Riemme Batelle, is already on the island, ready to join in this exciting endeavor. Sheila Heidmarch has given the party a charge: eliminate the ancient temple’s dangers so that Society scholars can study the ruins safely, and bring back whatever knowledge lies within.
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Zzorn visits the Quartermaster soon after departure so as to have first pick on whatever's available. He browses the offerings quickly and asks for recommendations beyond ordering an extra potion of endure elements, antitoxin and antiplague. "Anything good or particularly fresh you'd recommend Quartermaster?"
Later once the ship is underway, he asks his fellow Pathfinders, "Any of you wish to join me in seeking an audience with our fine Captain?"
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OR
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He rubs his head as if trying to remember something he had once known. "All this sounds terribly familiar but I can't quite place it. I wonder if I might have left myself a note...?" He turns to perusing the many notes that are pinned to his pajamas and tattooed on his body, looking to see if any of them might be relevant to the situation at hand.
Birseko recalls a few things, firstly he recalls a lot about the deities and cultures.
Lissala was the goddess of fate, runes, and reward of service, and was especially prominent in Thassilon. While a much more disciplined faith in the early days of the empire, her worship grew more reckless and decadent in Thassilon’s waning years. Veneration of the deity was thought to have died with Thassilon itself.
Alaznist didn’t treat well with the worship of Lissala, instead preferring to pay homage to a number of fiendish patrons. Earlier in Bakrakhan’s history, Lissala was widely worshipped, but as Alaznist came to power, the popularity of the faith waned in the nation. During this time, many of the temples were repurposed to venerate various demon lords.
One prominent fiend worshipped in the late days of Bakrakhan was Yamasoth, a nascent qlippoth lord of cursed kingdoms and vile experiments. Rites to Yamasoth included mortification of the flesh and experimental transformations. Alaznist was a dedicated follower of Yamasoth, and sought to learn his ways in order to harness that power for her own armies.
Then he remembers a few things about the history of the area.
Thassilon was the ancient empire that encompassed all of modern Varisia and beyond. It fell into ruin at the advent of Earthfall 10,000 years ago. It was ruled over by seven runelords, extremely powerful wizards who employed Thassilonian sin magic. Bakrakhan was the province of Alaznist, Runelord of Wrath, and Xin-Bakrakhan was her capital city.
Hollow Mountain, which broods over the ruins of Xin-Bakrakhan, is thought to hide endless subterranean spaces filled with wealth and danger. Some believe Alaznist herself is hidden within its unplumbed depths.
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Angry Magic Tree sits next to Birseko every morning on the voyage, reading the various notes and helping the half-elf find things like the lavatory and food each morning. "You know, I forget things sometimes too," she explains solemnly for the second day in a row. "It just means you've got too much stuff in your head. I knew a pumpkin leshy that one time tried to make more space by putting a larger pumpkin on their form, but then it was the same number of thoughts bouncing around inside a hollow gourd." He chuckles at the memory.
"I don't know much about the specifics. But the island is in a temperate zone, so shouldn't be too cold or too hot. Anything you would need to search ruins, that's what you should get."
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The half-elf and tree quickly hit it off, spending a good bit of time together on the deck. They are the first to hear the yell from above, "LAND HO!"
Birseko probably wonders what that means. I mean, he knows what 'land' is and why the sailor is yelling it. But why is he on this ship? Why is a tree next to him? It's been a very helpful tree but... so many questions! A note on his foot mentions something about a mission, maybe this is it?
While he is thinking it through, a small island becomes visible on the horizon. It grows to be a pretty big island and eventually the ship is moored in a small bay. Two launches are dropped into the water and the captain simply wishes the pathfinders 'good luck' and sends them on in.
Greeting them are a half-dozen bedraggled souls living in rugged tents sufficient for four times their number. They're led by a grim-looking woman in work clothes, with signs of emotional strain and fatigue lining her face.
"Thank goodness you’ve arrived," begins the careworn Pathfinder. “Two days ago workers at the dig site were attacked, by what or whom I don’t know. I was here at camp when it happened. Only a single worker escaped—Shadaq, who crawled back here, bleeding from a dozen terrible injuries. The wounds were mortal and none of us here possessed the skill to aid him. Before he died we got little information. He told us of the attack, said everyone had been, ‘gutted like game birds.’ His last words—as his eyes violently rolled back in his head—were ‘Lissala is angry, but so am I.’"
“The six of us are all that’s left—myself and these five hired excavators. They’ve refused to go back to the site and I didn’t dare go alone. We’ve been huddled in these damned tents since Wealday, waiting for your arrival. I’ll take you to the dig myself but I don’t know what we’ll find. If Shadaq’s words are true, it won’t be pretty. Only the gods know whether those same attackers lie in wait."
She frowns, "Oh I'm sorry, I'm Halla Beusophis, lead archeologist. It's been so stressful I forgot my manners. Honestly, the wounds just looked like big slashes, I don't really know what caused them. But uh... if you wanted to view the body, we buried him nearby." She points out the grave.
She points into the jungle, "It's a two mile trek. I will take you there when you are prepared. I need to know what happened to my friends and everyone else."
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"Do we have a healer in the group?" asks Zzorn, looking around. "Unless one of us is trained in the medical arts, I do not believe exhuming the body will be necessary..."
Suddenly Zzorn remembers something, "Dear Goe Lem, would you mind carrying my wand of healing and using it on me, in case I get hurt in combat and can no longer stand on my own two feet?"
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Birseko agrees. "I'm not much of a healer but I could use the occult to examine the deceased if need be, but from what we have heard it seems that it would be better to let the poor unfortunate conduct their journey to Pharasma's boneyard without interruption and focus our attention on avenging them."
The group decides leaving the poor worker's body entombed is the best decision this time. Any information they may have gained isn't worth disturbing the resting dead.
They indicate readiness to proceed and Halla points into the jungle, "That way. The ruins of the city here reach all the way to the shore, but the temple we found is about two miles in. Make any preparations you need while we walk."
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It takes about a half hour of walking and the temple comes into view.
This breathtaking edifice is constructed of tightly fitted blocks of brown stone covered with intricate engravings depicting humans engaged in acts of terrible self-mutilation. A pillared portico girds the eastern front of the great temple, the carved columns resemble fat, coiled serpents. The structure stands about 20 feet tall, though a great dome rises out of the center another 20 feet. How this place could be more than 10,000 years old defies logic—some sorcery must have preserved the stone.
The stench of blood is the only greeting upon arrival at the excavated temple. Before an imposing stone structure lie a few stripped and eviscerated bodies bearing terrible wounds that go far beyond the marks of battle in their viciousness, and furrows in the fresh dirt indicating that others have been dragged inside. Halla covers her mouth to stifle a cry, then rushes to the side of one of the bodies, falling to her knees. “Kovo! Oh, Kovo, look how they butchered you!”
After a few moments of mourning over her colleague’s battered and bloody body, Halla rallies and aids in examining the gruesome scene. She reports that others are missing: Pathfinder Riemme Batelle, two dig workers named Pel and Saala, and four laborers. A check of the surrounding area doesn’t turn them up, though you do find a masterwork longsword coated with dried blood, a half-full quiver of arrows, and a broken longbow—Halla identifies them as belonging to Riemme.
Halla points out that the break in the wall of the temple is recent and it is very unlikely that her allies did it. They would have been much more careful if making an entrance.
Zzorn can tell that the wounds were inflicted by bladed weapons, claws, and teeth, the latter definitely not human. In addition, some of the wounds occurred post-mortem.
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Birseko examines the murdered pathfinder's body but notes little beyond the fact that they are dead.
The whole scene is far too upsetting for him to consider anything so mundane as how a hole in the ground gets made!
Birseko happily accepts the wizard's offer of a charge from his wand - this place is clearly dangerous! - and says, "The next round is on me."
Before entering the complex, Birseko uses his wand of Heightened Awareness on himself and offers it around to any of the others who might wish to make use of it.
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AMT moves over to a crumbling wall and finds a nice vine sunning itself. He leans over and introduces himself and asks what happened.
The vine gives him a shiver, "Hey man, just soakin' up some sun here. It's good stuff, you know? Yeah, you know. Not much happening. You guys showed up. Those animals over there with you? They gonna eat me? That would not be cool."
"Ah man, lotta stuff happened. So some dudes like your friends show up. Then that wall over there busted out and some other dudes came out. They had sharp teeth though, so probably weren't gonna much on me. Hmmm... then some flying dudes came in. Then the sun came up today real bright so I sorta checked out, that's definitely the best part."
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Other than the plant chatter, the stoic pathfinders ignore the scene of carnage and their sobbing guide. They cast some spells and move into the temple.
Eight great pillars, larger versions of the serpentine columns found at the pillared portico, encircle an enormous mosaic on the floor. The tiles of fading greens, reds, and yellows form a seven-pointed star. The dome peaks about forty feet overhead, its center pierced by an oculus five feet across. Near the front of the temple are the remains of a marble statue, smashed to bits. What it once was is unclear, as the vandal did a rather thorough job destroying the ancient work of art.
Toward the back of the wide open space, a long, five-footdeep pool lies in this western alcove, empty now, though the irregular red-brown stains on its surfaces leave little doubt as to what once filled the basin. Standing at the center of the pool is an eighteen-foot-tall marble statue of a strange being. Its body is a tangle of tentacles and eyes surrounding a circular maw filled with jagged teeth and barbed stinging tongues. Each of the thing’s tentacles ends in a claw, pincer, hook, or some other implement of pain. Ancient paint flakes from the grand effigy, but glittering in the light are dozens of onyx gemstones adorning the statue where the being’s eyes are carved. It appears that something is strapped to one of the writhing appendages with red silk ribbons. On the floor of the pool itself are dozens of small stone figurines.
Zzorn peaks around the corner and...
A beautiful melodic song begins drifting out of the temple. Soothing, calm and above all, drawing you all inside.