Messengers pulled you away from your tasks and ordered you to appear before Venture-Captain Drandle Dreng by midnight. Dreng, ever presenting the appearance of the doddering, decrepit old man, meets you in the Great Hall of Skyreach, the main fortress of the Grand Lodge in Absalom. Dressed only in tattered night clothes complete with a faded yellow sleeping cap, the youthful excitement in Dreng’s eyes belied his elderly appearance.
“We’ve found them!” he declares, the moment you arrive in the Great Hall. “Those pitiful bastards who murdered Pathfinder Bodriggan Wuthers in Oppara those many months ago—you know, the Zyphus-worshipping fools who tried to turn Oppara into a zombie-filled nightmare? After all this time, we finally tracked their remnants to a burned-out temple in the vagabond camp across the river from the capital. You will set out for there at once—there is a ship waiting—and meet a man named Sebastus Hustavan outside the burned-out temple. Once a man of great importance, he seems to have fallen on hard times—fallen so far as to join those Zyphus fiends. But he’s redeemed himself by telling us their location! Find Hustavan—it can’t be hard, there’s only one burned-out temple to Sarenrae in the vagabond camp—learn all you can about the cult’s hideout, and then cleanse it of their presence. Cultists across Golarion must know they may not use the Society to fulfill their horrid glories—so too will they know that the Society will not stand by and watch its members murdered!”
Dreng clears his throat then, his posture losing the sudden youthful fire and passion, his shoulders hunching once more, his face pinched and tired. “Of course, while you are there,” he rasped, “do your duty as Pathfinders and seek anything they may have that the Society would need in the vaults.”
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The massive Tiefling frowns.
His black hair and blue eyes look almost human but it is clear that the more bestial aspects of his fiendish ancestors dominate his appearance.
This tieflings exhibits fine sharp teeth and has a long, flexible tail that is moving gracefully with each step.
Although he is in his armor, it is clear that his feet are more bestial than human and resemble those of a clawed predator.
He has a sheathed longsword, a bardiche in his hand, a morningstar at his side and a heavy shield on his back.
He wears a fullplate that looks like it has seen battle recently.
Resting on top of his chest, an amulet showing the holy symbol of Irori is visible.
~ ~
Djahan is not pleased about this mission. This is not about knowledge ... but very twisted revenge ideas.
He understands a little about that kind of emotions and Irori represents all parts of life but to master a path that leads to the light such negative emotions like revenge are unnecessary.
"I do not like this mission. Is this really our path? Petty revenge?!” he says and looks at all of you to see what you think.
"As a member of the Pathfinder Society I object but understand duty and obedience. So is there any other path?"
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"No, I didn't know about this cult," a sleepy (and perhaps slightly grumpy) Tsamara remarks to Dreng, "but now I do."
She shakes her head. "Zombies. Why is it always the undead? We saw too many of those the last time..."
"Djahan, maybe it would help if we knew more about what actually happened before," she adds. "And about Zyphus. Is there anything you can tell us about Zyphus, sir?"
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"And what's so wrong with undead?" asks a beautiful woman in a sing-song voice. She sits in a corner, long skirts covering her lower body and a shining breastplate protecting her torso.
"It's so tiresome, the lack of understanding that breathing peoples show. Most thinking undead just want to be left in peace to pursue their own interests without misguided fools barging in and sentencing them to oblivion just for deciding that they didn't want to stay dead."
Around the woman's neck is a wooden disk depicting a skull-decorated fly: the symbol of Urgathoa, the First Undead.
"Now zombies, being mindless, are just tools. But many who choose to travel the River of Souls bequeath their remains to responsible clergy for use in this way. From what VC Dreng tells us though, these Zyphus cultists committed a gross abuse of a sacred duty. And murder is never justified."
"One can't expect anything more sophisticated from Zyphus' devotees, of course. They follow a god of calamity, so everything's a disaster! They're only happy when nothing goes right. Fools!"
"I'm Aurora by the way, I'll be joining you on this mission."
"At least someone is talking sense," Dreng says. "But I suppose you all don't know about what happened in Oppara. The cult's leader, a man named Fel Bustrani, tricked one of our young rising stars in the Society, a pupil of Venture-Captain Eliza Petulengro named Bodriggan Wuthers, into believing he was working on a dig of significant importance for the Society. Instead, he was digging up an ancient artifact dedicated to Zyphus that now rests in the vaults of the Dark Archive below. It has the ability to turn corpses into Zyphus zombies, creatures able to infect living humanoids and turn them into yet more zombies. Were it not for the presence of brave Pathfinders, I fear the city of Oppara would now be crawling with undead. Though Bustrani was slain and his cult scattered or captured, they were not destroyed completely."
"If you don't know," the Venture-Captain continues, "Zyphus is a malign god of accidents who encourages his followers to cause deadly accidents, though it is a bit of cheating to call them accidents when they're orchestrated. Don't you think? So you're not carrying out revenge but meting out long-delayed justice to escaped murderers."
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"They try to orchestrate accidents?" Tsamara huffs. "That is absolutely cheating - on top of the murder, because that's what it is - murder. But even good people don't always get the tenets of their faith right, so why should bad ones be any different?"
"But many who choose to travel the River of Souls bequeath their remains to responsible clergy for use in this way."
At this, the catfolk's eyes open wide. "Er...really? I mean, I suppose it doesn't really matter to the person themselves since they aren't using the body anymore, but...why?"
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"Of course, Tsamara" Aurora replies, recognising the catfolk from a previous mission. "That's sort of the point. If you don't need your body anymore, let someone responsible put it to good use. Isn't it silly to leave it in a hole in the ground, or set it on fire? Such a waste."
"Where are the snacks, by the way? I'm absolutely famished."
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Hearing enough, Demm addresses Aurora. "We no am meet before. Demm tad-draguni am called Demm tad-draguni. It am goodly to meeting you. But you am wrong about the dead. Mortals am mortal for a reason. Using dark magic to extend lifetime corrupts the mind. It am turns people into killers eventually, no matter how nice or smart they am. 'Intelligent undead' still hunt innocent people who no am wanting to be food."
He addresses the others, "This no am revenge. This am setting a tone and sending message to enemies of The Pathfinders. We no am to be manipulated. We am like dragon! We am to be respected. We am protect our own!"
With that, the short, blue-scaled kobold takes a sip of tea. He looks about the room, then impatiently gestures for Dreng to continue.
It being midnight and a mission assigned by Drandle Dreng, the room is woefully bereft of snacks beyond those you might have brought yourselves (or of servers to bring any). Which of these facts contributes most to the lack of snacks is debatable.
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Having been caught in the midst of a late-night training session the fighter was ready and able to attend the call... after a brief delay to make himself presentable.
"I've no use for the undead personally... the concept unnerves me. I think the kobold has the right of it: undeath is unnatural... and the only 'thinking' ones I've ever heard of - vampires - do seem to have to feed off the living.
As for 'revenge', Demm is right again. This is about showing those who would act against us that the Pathfinder Society won't take wanton murder and exploitation of our own lying down. I'm all for the mission and am happy to aid in bringing murderers to justice."
He then takes a moment to nod to Demm, Djahan and Tsamara before addressing the merfolk.
"My name is Felix. A pleasure to meet you, though it's under unpleasant circumstances."
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Djahan raises an eyebrow after Aurora’s speech about necromancy and listens to the team.
“I have been in Kaer Maga before and can accept the concept of twice-born servants but intelligent undead are mostly evil and I do not tolerate their existence if there is reason to believe that they are indeed a malice to society! As long as we can agree to these terms then we won’t have any problems to cooperate I hope!“ Djahan says.
He then turns to the venture captain.
“Good, I trust in your judgement venture captain! I am ready to leave!“
He then turns to Aurora and bows with a formal introduction.
“And also a clear welcome to you Aurora. You are far away from the sea. May I introduce myself. My name is Djahan Ruuh and I am an Iroran paladin who meditates on self-perfection and trains relentlessly, knowing that my example can inspire others to excel. Irori offers me no universal paladin code— as many of my brothers and sisters I am a paladin in his service that has to create his own code as part of my spiritual journey! Irori is wise and sees the adherence to such a self-formulated creed as one of the many tests one must face to reach perfection!“ he says and looks at the team.
“So what is your story Aurora?“
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Aurora rolls her eyes at Djahan. "My story?" she sighs. "Master warned me about people like you, paladin. It was people like you that forced him to hide under the sea. Because in their zealous bigotry they refused to even begin to contemplate the wonders that he has contributed to the world, the scholarship that drove him to refuse to accept death so that he could go on contributing. He even gave up the ability to eat altogether! I do not think that you could imagine what a sacrifice that is!
In your bigotry, you decide that one person's existence must come to an end on your say so, as if you have that right over them, as if to do so wasn't murder. That's what it is. Murder. To destroy a thinking undead is no different than to destroy a breathing human.
You do not know that intelligent undead are 'mostly evil'. You cannot know that any more than you can know that intelligent humans are 'mostly evil'; or kobolds for that matter." She looks pointedly at Demm. "Yet I don't hear you declaring a lack of tolerance for Demm tad-draguni here. And what gives you the right to destroy them? Who are you to say that the children of Irori are more deserving of existence than the children of Urgathoa? And you call that 'cooperation'? Paladins!" She rolls her eyes again.
"Since we are all Pathfinders, and the Venture Captain has seen fit to assign us to a team, I shall make an agreement with you. I shall raise no undead, neither thinking nor mindless, in the course of our working together. If we meet thinking undead I will attempt to converse with them, but if they prove themselves hostile or they oppose our mission, we will treat them just the same as if they were breathing opponents and destroy them if that is what it takes."
"You asked what my story is Djahan: a pathfinder saved me from a dreary monotonous existence and gave me freedom. That pathfinder was an undead. I ask you - does that invalidate the kindness that he showed me by taking me in and teaching me?"
"I am rather fond of kobolds," Dreng comments.
Once the philosophical debates pauses a moment, the Venture-Captain interrupts again, "Pier thirteen. Go get your equipment and get on board before it leaves at first light. Remember that the cult of Zyphus is evil. You'll have five days aboard the ship to becomes acquainted and discuss philosophy."
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"Maybe if more of the people who choose undeath didn't do it to gain ultimate power over the living..." Tsamara can't help but mutter to herself.
Still, it takes all kinds to make a world...
She sighs. "Arguing isn't going to help anything so we may have to agree to disagree on some things. But if Aurora is willing to not raise any undead herself, then...I'll be willing to try talking with any intelligent ones we might run across."
"Speaking of purchases, I've got something I'll need to pick up from the quartermaster too...not to mention the rest of my gear is still in my room..."
Assuming there are no more questions or impending arguments, Tsamara heads off to gather up her supplies for the journey ahead.
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Demm's reptilian mind struggles to draw an appropriate comparison. "Life am like an opera. There am many characters, crowd am laugh some times, sad sometimes, but there am always a final curtain. That is how it am supposed to be. Coming back after the opera am over? Theater empty, no lights, no heat. Am cold. Why is this? Because no am supposed to be there. Fat fleshie female am sung. Opera am over. It am how it am. Life am same way. When it am over, supposed to stay over. No am come back inside. That am not how it am supposed to work. Not okay to go back into theater and demand more opera. It am already over. It no am about what individual want, even if they am wanting more. It am about how life am. There am beginning, and there am ending." There is no malice in his voice. He is just trying to find another way to express his thoughts on the matter.
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He raises an eyebrow at the diminutive sorcerer after that speech.
"Not a bad way of looking at things. The show's over, time to move on."
With that he too departs to secure his gear and make ready for the journey, already looking forward to the chance to deliver justice where it seems to be quite overdue!
After a hurried early morning rush to gather supplies in Absalom, several days in the blustery Inner Sea, and another spent weaving through the bureaucracy of the Taldan customs rituals, you find yourself walking through a chilly, early morning rain storm and approaching what the vagabond locals say is the location of the burned-out temple to Sarenrae.
Rain patters down in sheets over the scorched skeleton of a once majestic temple. Walls of thick, blackened masonry stand tall and abandoned, with gaping wounds revealing where stained glass windows once caught the morning sun. The roof has collapsed and most of its remnants are long gone. Only large, immovable remnants of the crumbling masonry remain in the rubble piles scattered throughout the ruin.
A tall, towering but frail man stands on the pulpit. His bald head is fringed by frizzled gray hair. He has not shaved for weeks by the look of the patchy, gray whiskers sticking out from his pale, leathery cheeks. A blue sash holds his muddy, torn white robe onto his cachectic body. Two equally malnourished dogs menace him from either side. The only thing between the man and the dogs' fangs is a soggy length of wood that he holds in both of his hands.
Once you enter, the dogs turn their attention to you and growl fiercely.
Encounter! Round 1. Bold may act.
Felix
Data?
Djahan
Blue Dog
Aurora
Demm
Tsamara
Red Dog
Old Man
Felix moves forward and spears the closer dog deeply, and Djahan moves forward and puts it out of its misery with a swift swing of his sword.
The remaining dog rushes forward and bites down hard onto Felix's leg. It holds on and tugs, trying to trip him, but the starved dog cannot muster the strength to pull the fighter down.
"Help! Help me!" cries the old man, who cowers uselessly on the pulpit.
Encounter! Round 1. Bold may act.
Felix (-7 hp)
Djahan
Blue Dog
Data?
Aurora
Demm
Tsamara
Old Man
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"This is our contact? Beset by dogs?" Aurora purses her lips, and winces as one of the animals takes a chunk out of Felix even as the spearman skewers it. "Let's finish this."
"Honestly, what is wrong with this dumb creature?" Aurora complains as her steed refuses to approach the snarling canine. She fires her crossbow at the dog.
Felix manages to bloody the feral dog with his spear, but the blow is not enough to stop the animal and its hungry fangs.
Aurora's horse thinks better about fighting the building with uneven ground and hungry wolf-like creatures. Apparently, so does her crossbow's quarrel.
Encounter! Round 1. Bold may act.
Felix (-7 hp)
Djahan
Blue Dog (-11 hp)
Data?
Aurora
Demm
Tsamara
Old Man
Tsamara thrusts her spear into the last of the feral dogs, silencing its growls. There is a soggy thump as the old man drops the board in his hands and drops to his knees. "M'lords--," he begins but then starts sobbing. "Thank--" He sobs more. "--you." He wipes the tears from his cheeks and almost immediately begins sobbing again.
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He wipes his spear off, nodding appreciatively at it before returning it to its sling.
Coin well spent.
"Come now, man. Pull yourself together. The dogs are gone and we've need of your information, if you are indeed the one we've been sent here to meet. We can offer you aid for your wounds, if you've suffered any."
He says this last with a completely straight face, as if oblivious to the chunk taken out of his own hide by the recently-deceased canine.
"Yes," the old man sniffles and snorts as he wipes the tears and mucus from his face. "I am Magistros--was Magistros, O how the great have fallen--I am Sebastus Hustavan. Thank you. Thank you! You saved my life dealing with those rabid beasts. I will, of course, help you in all ways that I can. I owe you my life, after all! You're the Pathfinders after the cultists of Zyphus, yes? Of course you are! Who else would have risked themselves to save me?"
He rises from the floor of the pulpit on wobbly legs and climbs down to the ground. He moves to Felix and grabs the man's hand, shaking it as vigorously as he can manage. "They certainly sent an eclectic band of Pathfinders."
"Let me catch you up on the situation," Sebastus says. "After the Society foiled Bustrani's plans, the surviving cultists fled here to their hideout below this temple. I had to--I am ashamed to confess--join their cult in order to merely survive. That's how out of favor I fell! The only ones who would give me succor were cultists of Zyphus! Can you imagine being so despised after being so important? No. No. You surely cannot."
"The weeks turned into months, and they all plotted, schemed, and argued about how to get back at the Pathfinders and steal the Zyphus Stone back from Absalom in order to complete their demigod's mandate. That's how things were until about a week ago when I had to flee for my life. For my life! They went insane. More insane."
He waves his hands dramatically. It is clear that despite his sorry situation and poor health, he has retained much of his charisma and skill as an orator as he draws your attention into his tale. "A ragged dead thing with skin like blood and eyes like fire manifested in our--their--midst in a plume of crimson smoke! He spoke gravely and declared us all damned for all time if we failed in this one final order: to build dozens upon dozens of traps to catch and kill each other until only one remained. That one who remained would replace Bustrani and rebuild the cult anew in order to bring to fruition their plans for the city of Oppara."
"I sent word to the Pathfinders, revealing this location," he says as he rests his hand upon his heart, "and now I will bravely and humbly lead you into the den below and be your guide!" The irony of his situation mere minutes ago is apparently lost upon the former Magistros.
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"All this for a want of food...Someone should have fed them"
"Hunger should indeed be fed." Aurora comments before the elder begins his speech. She listens to the old man's rambling, absent-mindedly licking her lips and wondering if wild dog tastes good. When Hustavan finishes she enquires:
"Are you saying that the cultists here have probably all killed each other already? 'Only one' will remain?"
Aurora's eyes narrow as she reloads her crossbow and points it at the old man.
"YOU are only one."
"Me!?" Sebastus cries with incredulity, his eyes going so wide that it seems like the orbs might fall out of their sockets. "No, no, no! I am not--never was--one of them. I needed a roof and food, and they were desperate to grow their numbers after the slaughter at the Immortal Son. I swear, if I had had anywhere else to turn to safely, I would have." He clears his throat as he regains his composure. "I do not know how many are dead already. I doubt that they are all dead. They are as crafty in finding traps as they are in making them, so it should take some time before they're all dead. Many probably are dead by now, which should make your job easier."
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"Sir? Our briefing didn't say anything about this creature appearing or that the cult might have already slaughtered itself by the time we got here. But you just said that you sent word to the Society after this happened," Tsamara quietly points out. "Are you sure you're telling us everything?"
Something's not quite right here but this person doesn't really seem like the evil mastermind type...does he?
"Yes, I am sure that I have told you everything that I know because that was the arrangement," Sebastus says, puffing out his chest in indignation. "I give the Society inside information into the cult and access to their artifacts below, which I am about to lead you to at great risk to my own well-being, in exchange for protection. That protection is you. So now that you have arrived, I fulfill my end of the bargain. I may be disgraced and stripped of my title, but I still know better than to give away the cow for free! Now, if you'd rather not access the crypts below and retrieve the artifacts, then I still expect you to escort me to Absalom."
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"You know our Society well enough. Let us see how well you know your erstwhile colleagues" Aurora says calmly.
"I suppose we're going downstairs now?" she enquires as she slides out of the saddle. Aurora hitches her warhorse. "How extensive are the trapped areas? Will a few hours suffice to clear them?"
"I wouldn't know being neither an adventurer nor a trapsmith nor a real cultist of Zyphus," Sebastus says with a huff. "I made my way out of there as fast as I could once the others ran off to do whatever they were going to do."
"Thank you!" Sebastus effuses. "I knew that I could count on the Pathfinders!" He stays close to Djahan's side and leads you through the rubble to the stairs. Descending, only a small amount of light filters down from above to cast the stairs and room in dim, shadowy light.
At the bottom of the stairs that lead down from the surface is a small room. Two female statues stand in the middle of the room; their arms were broken off and are missing, and their facial features were long ago scraped away. The crypt is silent. The random tap or rustle carried though the halls are loud in comparison.
"The crypts are here. This is where the cultists rest or waste time," Sebastus says. "There's a secret door to the right behind which are stairs to the sacred chambers."
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"Let's be quick about this then" says Aurora as she employs secret merfolk magic to trade her tail for a pair of legs, and walks down the stairs. "These things don't last forever, and besides I'm hungry."
At the foot of the stairs she activates the light on her Wayfinder - the device left behind by her master, now repaired by arcanists at the Archive.
"Check this level first Tsamara. Don't want the way back up blocked by an 'accidental' ceiling collapse do we?"
Aurora takes her crossbow and loads a bolt.
Tsamara summons light into the chamber. The hall extend eerily into darkness past the statues, even Demm would not be able to see the end of the hall should he crowd down onto the small room. Those in the room already can see that other halls lead east and west from the chamber with the ruined statues.