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It has been just over a hundred years since the end of the God War which tore the lands of Caeril in twain. At this time, the intervention of the Dark Three, Bhaal, Myrkul, and Bane, stole the Tablets of Fate from the Mesos the Father of Magic. This event precipitated the God War in which the Titans, former rulers of creation, were cast down, including Kadum, Father of Giants. Now, his bloated corpse pollutes the depths of the Sea of Blood, and the remnants of his children's realms occupy the northern shores of the Sea of Blood. The Sanguinians, the name for the inhabitants of this region, are a resourceful race. Freed from the tyranny of the giant kingdoms by death of the titan Kadum at the hands of Corean Brightbrow, god of light and truth, they have flourished in their new found freedom. However, this is still a hard and twisted land, and its nature is reflected in the despotic conurbations that rule the territory.
The western shores of the Sea of Blood are contested by the twin forces of the Citadel of Tarim, an alliance of slavers and the priests of the dark god Kamus and the White Goddess, contests rule of the region with the city-states of Hanfar, ruled by the purple plume knightly orders under the guidance of the despotrix, Iopos, seat of the Denirastas clan and their detestable flesh-weaving magics, and Rykussirdar, a city of expert swordmasters who have recently concluded an alliance with the distant land of Thaythilor.
The north is bounded on the west by the city-state of Phloon, founded on a ruin of the ancient realm of Angramor, and to the east lies Malvent, where our great story begins...
Malvent, also known as the Fire Jewel of the Sea of Blood, is a frontier city that sits on the northern coast of the Blood Sea, in the Blood Sea North region of north Caeril. It is a city of smithing and mercantile services, as well as factories serving as the port of entry to many travelers coming to the region. Malvent is a city-state in Blood Sea North region of north Caeril, and formerly the village of Vespermouth. It sits on the mouth of of the River Vesper on the eastern side of the Blood Sea North Region, at the end of Blaern's Trail from Thindilar and at the end of the Hlintar Ride from Hlintar. Malvent, which was once called Mondowshan, is an old Sanguinian city known for its exotic tastes and gothic architecture, sprinkled throughout with gargoyles and other decorations, and for its mercantile activity, seasoned by thievery and intrigue.
Malvent is a busy port on the aptly named Malvent Bay, that bustles with activity late into the night. The city is built on every piece of land that touches the water, hungrily claiming it as too precious to be wasted. The northern end of Malvent's harbor is the location of a Thayathilorian compound. The locals do not like the structure, and it is even evident in the isolation of the compound as if building themselves shunned it.
Prior to Malvent's rise as a city, it was held by a band of robber-barons, who constructed the Fortress of the Five Vultures, which was named for them.
During the Blood Sea's so-called Time of Glorious Fools (from 649 DR onwards), Malvent was among those harbors that served as landing spots for immigrants and as rest stops for pirates. These harbors were developed as trade ports for the trading vessels came from Grond, Plinth, Sansibar, and Tori. From its beginnings, Malvent was a free city, but equally free for criminals and a haven for the lawless.
Around the 1330s DR, Bellas's Band, an adventuring company, took over Malvent, naming themselves Supreme Scepter and the Merchant Dukes.
By the late 14th century DR, Malvent grew several miles outside the city walls. Travelers who enter the city pass numerous inns, taverns, stockyards, and stables long before reaching the old city gates. The busy neighborhoods outside the city walls carry a strong aroma of smoke, cooking meats, animal dung, as well as the stench of smelters, tanneries, and paper presses.
The city within the walls was referred to as Old Malvent, and this is the part of the city renowned for its gothic architecture, high-pointed arches, blade-like buttresses, tall needle-spires, and rooftops adorned with gargoyles. Many visitors think the sight of the Old Malvent to be magnificent but sinister. The city is flush with grand stone-carved statues, fountains, and carved trees that replace the natural vegetation.
The city is divided by the River of the Evening Vespers between western and eastern Malvent. The west contains city's walled naval port and the steep gabled mansions of the nobility, while the east contains most of the mercantile districts.
Of late, the city of Malvent has been troubled. It is rumored that a war has broken out in city's storied underworld between the forces of the Shade Mantle thieves guild and the Moon Masks guild. The road between Malvent and Phloon, known as the red road or the blood way, has also witnessed increased predation in recent months. The territory is intermittently punctuated by small islands of settlement between the major cities, but the majority of the coast is consumed by the dense foliage of the Thornsaw Forest. Caravans have begun disappearing in its depths. Some believe the robberies are the result of attacks by orcs, goblins, and giants from the Titanhome Mountains to the north, which contain the ruins of the ancient Kingdom of Thaumka, a realm founded by giant kings who worshipped the ancient Titan Kadum.
Nevertheless, there is warmth to be had this night at the hearth fire of the Floating Fire Tavern, a reputable establishment of Eastern Old Malvent favored by nobles. It is one of the busiest establishment's in Vauntor's square, a small collection of shops and other buildings which lie on a canal that stems from the River of the Evening Vespers.
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A few conversations pause and there are some people pointing as a crystalline structure floats through the doors. while it's not that tall, it hovers a couple of feet off the floor, putting it at eye level for the humanfolk in the room. It settles into one of the seats at a table for two near the eponymous floating fire in the center of the room. This sends a pattern of shifting light arcing across the room, flickering with the fire.
Before long a server comes up a little hesitantly, "So, what will you be having on this fine night?" A pair of the gems circling slide around the crown to focus on her. This isn't needed, but Rook has learned that many creatures need at least something to look at. It may not be a full face, but it's better than nothing. "Oh, I'm here for the ambience, not the spirits. But you should pour yourself something nice." A gold coin floats up which she catches with a smile and nod. "Much obliged."
With that Rook settles in. Tonight's objective is to listen in and look for thoughts about the missing caravans. Iacco Phraist hadn't checked in, but it wasn't clear that he wasn't delayed for other reasons. The factor tended to be flamboyant and walking around with a golem of green marble sculpted like a shapely woman made him memorable. While Rook had a different appreciation of the form than most humanoids, he was proud of the work he put into Alexandria.
Just a dot nothing to see here.
It's been an easy time for Myrwyn. Without much to do, he's spent the last few months relaxing, traveling around or studying some ancient texts or ruins. Thanks to his magical hat, he looks like a totally non interesting villager, avoiding the occasional interaction with someone who happens to recognize him.
His time here in Malvent, though, promises to be interesting just from the beginning. As he sips a bit of mead from his jar, his eyes open wide when he witnesses a flying piece of crystal enter the tavern. The gem takes a sit and speaks to the maid. It even has something resembling a pair of eyes!
Not sure how to address this, Myrwyn thinks it can't be that obvious. A being from other Plane or World who plans on being a naughty boy doesn't just come to the tavern where there most famous aberration hunter in Carril is having a drink. He stands up and walks there, putting a hand on the empty chair.
"Mind if I accompany you? One doesn't get the chance to talk to a crystal everyday around here."
The door opens, and an Elf dressed in eastern-style golden armor over a green outfit enters. True to his racial sterotype, he was physically very appealing, lean and with a sharp jawline. An intricate tattoo covering his silvery-white eyes stretched back over his temples in elaborate patterns and gave him away as a Tromek - at least to those worldly enough to be familiar with the traditionally isolationist elf folk living beyond even the great desert to the east.
Though what really set him apart, other than his gear and exotic looks, was the way he glided more than walked across the room. Every step had a measure of careful deliberation and grace, and there was... 'something' about him; a calming, palpable sense of trustworthiness that kindled a sense of inner peace in others.
Unbothered by the silence at the Inn, he soon approached the table Rook was stationed at. He regards the crystal in silence for a few seconds, pondering something, then gives a slight incline of his head. "Honored Amgen, my greetings. I am Krynn, of the Wyred. Sword of the Divine and General of the Grand Expansion."
A Traditional Tromek greeting by their customs, stating their social position and most important accompanying titles upon meeting someone. Amgen refers to their general term for outsiders. Tromek culture goes by very strict rules of social hierachy and decorum, and they are known to rarely show much outward emotion other than politeness to outsiders. Still, outsiders *are* fairly low on their social. That he goes out of his way to add the honored part seems much more respectful then might be expected - and that he feels the need to add this might indicate he considers the other conversatialist learned enough to perceive these subtleties. The Spiritual and de-facto leader of the Tromek is known as The Divine.
"If you would allow me to sit here?"
When Rook does, Krynn takes place and arranges his two Katana-like sheathes swords to pass on either side of the chair. A welded-shut gauntlet that he carries on the necklace clinks against his armor in the motion. "My thanks. If you would indulge my curiosity, who am I speaking to? Are you Mordenkainen, or a construct belonging to him?"
He pulls another chair to the table as he then hears another man approach from behind, and offers it to the newcomer when he asks to be seated. As with Rook, he studies the man carefully at first, then gives a slightly deeper inclination of his head to him. "Or was it perhaps you who invited me to this city? I am Krynn, of the Wyred. Sword of the Divine. I am looking for the Wizard named Mordenkainen, who requested my presence here for a matter of import."
Krynn carries quite a lot of magical gear with many assorted magical auras, though he appears to be a normal elf at first glance. There are no illusions of any kind in place. His pupils are indeed milky white, and he is perhaps blind, though this does not seem to hinder him.
It's been an easy time for Myrwyn. Without much to do, he's spent the last few months relaxing, traveling around or studying some ancient texts or ruins. Thanks to his magical hat, he looks like a totally non interesting villager, avoiding the occasional interaction with someone who happens to recognize him.
His time here in Malvent, though, promises to be interesting just from the beginning. As he sips a bit of mead from his jar, his eyes open wide when he witnesses a flying piece of crystal enter the tavern. The gem takes a sit and speaks to the maid. It even has something resembling a pair of eyes!
Not sure how to address this, Myrwyn thinks it can't be that obvious. A being from other Plane or World who plans on being a naughty boy doesn't just come to the tavern where there most famous aberration hunter in Carril is having a drink. He stands up and walks there, putting a hand on the empty chair.
"Mind if I accompany you? One doesn't get the chance to talk to a crystal everyday around here."
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Behind the armored elf, a being unlike any most have seen before silently walks in.
They are made of a dark metal, the color of adamantine...but unlike the normally rigid metal the being seems to be in a constant state of flow and flux (quite unlike a clockwork being, more like a swarm of metallic beings constantly recreating themself). They are orbited by a quiet swarm of nanites and spinning machines that seem to periodically be absorbed into and then respawn out of the being's body.
Their eyes glow orange, and electric "tattoos" seem to form and then fade away across their metallic skin. (Reference Image)
Their movements are extraordinarily quick, and a bit jerky: like they are zipping from one spot or pose to another, and then pausing to take in their surroundings.
Out of place with their harsh metallic body, this odd being has a wreath of daisies around their head.
They take in the room quickly, and then hear the word 'Mordenkainen' from a nearby table. Less than a second later, they have half-leapt, half-flowed over to stand alarmingly close to the elf.
"Greetings bio-beings! Self is now called Star Love and Self comes in peaceful search of the bio-being you call Mordenkainen, sent by the Black Butterfly being who fills the void with darklight. Self heard you mention that one. Are you Mordenkainens Friend-Companion-Lover-Colleagues?"
With a nod to the floating gem, he adds, "And greetings fellow techomagical being as well. Are you a Wyrwood construct?"
An incredibly attractive waitress glides by and hands each player a menu card, but it does not seem to be for food?
Dear customers!
Liliyashaninas gourmet food enterprise is all the Rage nowadays!
Free of charge, we offer our delicious
Basic Fericeity= +4 (morale) to Dex, activates automatically at start of combat (savag intution is too good not to take), free of charge.
Choose up to 5 points as a complimentary "keep the lovely ex-Succubus alive please" incentive!:
3 Points: Beast Totem Burger:
Made from 2 1D8 CritX3 Claw attacks, our lovely Beast Totem burger will allow you to pounce, and also increase your AC (natural armor) by 3!
3 Points: Celestial Blood Sausage
Empowers all of your melee attacks with celestial goodness, having them deal +d6 damage to evil outsiders! 5 resistance to acid and cold, as well as the ability to reroll an ability check, skill check or saving throw per performance! Very tasty!
3 points: Celestial Totem Topping
This tasty ability increases healing received by 1 per hit dice, allows you to purge invisibility around you and gives you SR26 against evil spells! On top of a +2 Saving throw bonus vs Spells cast by evil creatures! Staying alive is great for your health!
3 Points: Chaos Totem con Carne!
This specifically crafted conglomeration of unusual tastes gives you
a +3 deflection bonus to AC vs lawfull enemies, a +3 resistance bonus to saves against such foes, DR 7/lawfull, a 25% chance to ignore bonus damage from crits and sneak attacks and +4 to escape artist checks.
3 Points: Wondrous World serpent stew!
This healthy stew gives you a lovely bonus of +3 to your AC (+6 against critical confirmations), immunity to being prone, gives your weapons all alignment descriptors for DR reduction purposes and gives you a +3 resistance bonus to your save, but only against attacks that come from an outsider, an abberration, or that have an alignment descriptor.
2 Points: Superstitious all you can eat Magic Menu
Suspicious about magical food? Fear not, for this excellent and delicious assortment of boni hands you a + 5 morale bonus to all saves vs spells, supernatual abilities and spell like effects, and if you dont like the outcome, you can reroll once! Caution, may cause spell resistance indigestion when attempting to buff while affected.
Goes great with the probably 5 times per day moment of greatness refreshment!
For one extra point, you can upgrade with Magic Menu with our awesome GHOST RAGE COCKTAIL!
Gain +5 Morale bonus to touch AC! You can also hurt incorperal things with non magical weapon, but I dont think anyone cares.
3 points: Spirit totem sandwich!
Feeling loney? Dont be! Our lovely sandwich for loney hearts makes sure that charming little Liliya-spirits will surround you and hit enemies close to you with +22ABs for 1D6+7 negative energy damage, and hit them for another 1d8 negative energy even if they miss!
1 point Mighty Meat!
Automatically confirm a critical hit once per rage! Lily can restart raging as a swift action.
1 point Unexpected strike fun-fries
Once per rage, do an Attack of opportunity against an enemy that moves into a square threatened by you, even if this movement would normally not provoke
1 point Quick Reflex Smoothie
you get 1 extra attack of opportunity per round, goes great with unexpected strike fun-fries
Any special wishes? Just ask the me waitress.
Want to use more then 5 points? Just talk to me the waitress.
Oh, on the insistence of my surprisingly adorable commisar, all dining decisions have to be made democratically, so all of your get the same menus in the end!
Rook looks over the person who has sat down. Though disguised, he doesn't feel that he is a threat. More that he's avoiding notice. "Oh, I don't always spend time with beings of flesh and..." as he's replying affably, the elf comes up. From his address, bearing and armor, a knight. Mordenkainen is a name he is familiar with, a name to be taken seriously.
When the pouncing figure leaps over, there is an immediate response. He teleports up among the roof beams. The refraction of light changes, making his position a little less clear. Phyrexians are an existential threat. They must not ever find their home. They should be destroyed on contact.
... But just before the green beam comes out, he pauses. This behavior is unlike normal Phyrexians. The flowers and reference to an Empyreal lord is unique. It's curious, but doesn't seem hostile. He will teleport back down. "I am a unique construct, though there are some similarities to Wyrwoods. I apologize for reacting, but I'm used to Phyrexians being hostile. A peaceful one is a pleasant surprise."
"Oh, and I have never met Mordenkainen. Merely heard the tales."
Doot
.
Myrwyn immediately identified the Phyrexian. He jumps up of his chair, ready to obliterate the menace, but notices something different. He also gets distracted by the piece of crystal teleporting, then speaking somewhat warmly to the Phyrexian.
With eyes semi closed, he stands ready, but holds for a second until he decides whether attack or not.
There's something in its speech that really stands out.
"What do you mean by Black Butterfly?"
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The road into the city-state of Malvent was dicey. Not once, but twice was Eladithas Starchild, elven godling son of Desna, accosted by robber bands. The first one, Eladithas was able to talk his way out of. The second one was a bit more messy, yet the elven luckbringer got out of it without a scratch to his perfect skin.
On his way into Malvent proper, the godling did what he normally did when entering a new settlement: play his hand-crafted mandolin. It usually helped to smooth over interactions with those who lived there.
As he walked, a small crowd of music appreciators trailed behind Eladithas, lost in his melodic meanderings. As he walked, a noble couple belonging to House Zargurist stopped their carriage to speak with the elven newcomer and persuaded him to accompany them back to their estate near Malvent's East Side. Eladithas took them up on their offer, much to the grumbling of those who walked out of their way to listen to Eladithas's music. Both Lord and Lady Zargurist took the elven newcomer to their large mansion. After a day of conversation, eating Malvent cuisine, and enjoying each other's company , Eladithas took the Zargurist's advice, and traveled down to the old eastern part of Malvent to a place they recommended called Floating Fire Tavern.
Once at the main door, the bouncer immediately ushers Eladithas inside.
Slightly distracted browsing through the menu as the unusually attractive and also remarkably unfazed waitress patiently waits for the orders of the exotic Paladin, the floating Crystal named 'Rook', the other unfazed human and now the black monstrousity that has the others immediately up in arms, Krynn initially only takes a sip of water from his cup.
He then looks up and studies the Phyrexian a few seconds in silence, only then giving him/it/her (?) a slight nod. "You're remarkably polite and friendly for those of your kind, 'Star Love'. I am Krynn, of the Wyred. Former apprentice of Vaelyn and war hero of sorts. Do you wish to say that you were summoned here as well? I confess, I did not expect a Phyrexian to help us, even less that this Mordekainen was able to find a pariah such as yourself. Yet, you have my respect for turning against your nature and embracing the gifts of the Mother." He gestures over the crown of daisies resting on the churning swarm of nanites making up Star Love's head.
Star Love doesn't blink as Rook and Myrwyn seem about to attack, briefly...but then maybe he was already more defensively alert than his demeanor would imply. Surely Phyrexians expect resistance wherever they go...
"Well UniqueConstruct, Self is pleased to meet you. Self understands UniqueConstruct's apprehension, as Self is the only Phyrexian known to Self, who feels Empathy for Non-Self-Beings. Perhaps there will be more peaceful Phyrexians, but Self is unsure.
"It was not long ago that Self was fully a part of the Progress Engine, collecting and assimilating unique beings much like yourself, in pursuit of the Great Synthesis." His nanite swarm swells and recedes a bit, as if in longing for the Deep Knowing which comes from assimilating unique beings.
Turning to the pale elf and the hooded human, Star Love continues, "The Black Butterfly is...God-Friend-The-Silence-Between-That-Lives-In-The-Void-Between-Stars-An d-Illuminates-Beauty-Through-Darkness. Self came to this plane to collect unique beings to experiment on, for the sake of the Great Synthesis. Self collected many. Self thought Self would assimilate Butterfly but God-Friend-Black-Butterfly gave Self a different gift--the gift of truly perceiving Others in their fullness."
Here, the four armed Phyrexian gives a whistful sigh. "She taught Self to Love, and that there is much uniqueness in Living Bio-Beings that is lost through assimilation. She suggested that Self come in search of bio-being Mordenkainen. And she suggested Self take up flowercrafting." Star Love gestures to the wreath of daisies on their head.
"So summoned? Suggested, at least. With Self's new eyes, Self hates compulsion, but Self welcomes suggestions, especially from Re-Creator, Giver-Of-Heart-Love, Black-Butterfly.
"Self has assimilated much knowledge of this plane--before Self encountered God-Friend-Butterfly--but Self has little time here. For instance, Self believes Bio-Elf named Krynn of the Wyred to be perhaps a Tromek elf, based on Krynn's choice of armor, yet Self has never spoken to a Bio-Elf, and would like to know: What is it like to have an Elf's tongue? To feel an Elf's feet press upon the ground? Not long ago Self would have learned more via assimilation, but Self craves new ways to learn now, that do not destroy the Not-Self being studied."
From a corner of the tavern sat lazily upon a chair lit by a single candle on a table before him is a man, or at least what can be identified as such, exuding a palpable aura of dread. Alabaster white face and crimson eyes face half hidden in a black hood what features that can be seen don't really betray to what race he belongs to. From a distance he may be human, but up close the sharp avian curves of his face and ears would suggest something Elven or perhaps Half Elven. The true answer if there ever was any is one the man has kept to himself all night long as tightly as his own business.
From his position of relative comfort he simply observes the tavern with a detached, introspective gaze barely noticing when the servants come to wordlessly refill his silver goblet from which he occasionally sips from slowly and deliberately. His all black clothes are finely made though utilitarian in their function suggesting expensive taste in an adventurer. Those who dare venture close would note that the feeling of dread doesn't come from the man himself, though his demeanor and brooding alone would bring the tone of the room down significantly, but rather a long curved blade held in an onyx black scabbard of an unknown material resting upon the table just within reach. Its long squarish hilt was masterfully crafted and wrapped in a thick black silk rope. A fine weapon by any standard but the most striking feature was a single baleful reptilian eye resting in the blade just above the hand guard. Easily mistakeable for an elaborate jewel it follows you hungrily as you move about the room with all the interest of a starved tiger. The sword, even absent from the hand of it's wielder feels like the most dangerous thing in the room, and there's nothing in it's manner to contradict that argument.
Their was something familiar about the man in the way he sat and brooded as if his place in the tavern wasn't just some coincidence or adherence of a narrative prejudice born from the viewers mind. Rather, it simply felt right. As if this was the start of a tale told a million times in a million ways over a million firesides. Something that didn't center around him but rather the idea of him or someone like him. A man. A tavern. Compatriots. An adventure. The nature of which might make the blood run cold to those wise to such signs.
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Suddenly, the famous 'floating flame' of the inn begins to flicker wildly. The other guests are audibly disturbed by the apparition. Then, the flame swells in a torrential rush of heat, before then retreating back into itself to a miniscule point. As the flame retracts, it explodes once again, this time containing the brilliant form of the archmage Mordenkainen the Magnificent, leader of the Circle of Eight. The archmage is bald and has dark, feathered eyebrows that meet in a point over his hawk-like nose. He is dressed in a brilliant golden cloak and bears a decorative black staff topped by a dragon's claw that grips a clear orb.
"Greetings, I have chosen to appear by these unexpected means at a time and place where I believed myself likely to find heroes willing to aid me in a matter that imperils all life in the lands of Caeril."
"It is, I am sure, well known to all of you, that, at the Dawn of Time, the forces of Law warred with the forces of Chaos for control of the Cosmos."
"On the side of Law, the Wind Lords are ancient and powerful entities from the earliest ages of the world, created from the breath of the giant Aurgelmir. Chergui the East Wind is the most benevolent to mortals, embodying the cleansing winds that blow from the sea to soothe the Stone Desert’s heat, and acting as a calming influence on his peers. Conversely, Shamal the West hates mortals and wants to drive them from the spirits’ lands. The West Wind is an enveloping gale of rocks and grit that scours flesh from bone and wears mountains into dust. Khamsin the South Wind embodies the hot winds that blow from the southern wastes. A being of extremes, both in temperature and temperament, Khamsin’s opinions float between those of his fellow lords. Opposing these three is Boreas, the North Wind who has been reborn as a true god."
"Meanwhile, on the side of Chaos, the Queen of Chaos is an obyrith who rose to power in the Age Before Ages. While the obyrith plotted and warred amongst themselves, the Queen alone looked past the Abyss and discovered life in other planes of existence. Some of this life, namely the souls of the Chaotic Evil dead, seeped into the Abyss, which the obyrith shaped into the tanar'ri. The Queen of Chaos decided to launch a war to conquer the multiverse and rallied all of the obyrith lords to her cause. Those who refused she set an example of by either killing or banishing them. The only exception to this was Dagon, whose power she feared."
"Eventually, the Queen took as her consort a tanar'ri demon lord called Miska the Wolf-Spider, and made him head general of her army. With Miska in command, she practically guaranteed the cooperation of the treacherous tanar'ri. She murdered the then-Prince of Demons, Obox-ob, and bestowed his title on Miska."
"The Battle of Pesh was the climax of this campaign where the armies of Chaos were led by Miska the Wolf-Spider, while the forces of Law were championed by the Vaati, or Wind Lords. Desperately outnumbered, the Wind Lords fashioned the Rod of Seven Parts, a weapon powerful enough to kill Miska in a single strike. Yet the Battle of Pesh was a draw, as neither Law nor Chaos won the day. The Wind Lords were decimated, but in the final moments their leader struck Miska with the Rod, but rather than being slain the Wolf-Spider was mortally wounded and imprisoned for eternity within the Abyss. The resulting balance created the multiverse as it now exists, with a tense stand-off between order and anarchy. The fate of the multiverse is in the hands of the wielder of the Rod of Seven Parts, for it can still both slay Miska and free him."
"Because the Rod is so potent, it cannot be conventionally protected. Therefore, to keep it safe the Wind Lords designed the separate sections of the Rod to scatter around the globe whenever its full powers were employed by striking Miska. Each piece of the Rod both leads and urges its bearer in the direction of the next sequential section."
"I believe that a piece of the Rod has been recovered by the half-elven cerebremancer Ezria Santhrasslisan the Insightful, my apprentice and confidant. However, she has recently disappeared during her stay in the city-state of Malvent, and her current whereabouts are unknown. Moreover, her disappearance appears to coincide with that of many other psions and entities with psychic ability throughout the region of the northern Sea of Blood. Unless we find Ezria, and keep her from the grasp of the many evil powers in this region, the knowledge of the Rod of Seven Parts may fall to those with unscrupulous designs, such as the Domination of Thaythilor, whose embassy lies across the River of Evening Vespers in Western Old Malvent."
"I do not currently know who is to blame for Ezria's disappearance. There are a number of possible suspects."
"First, it is possible that the rulers of this city-state have captured Mordenkainen's apprentice. The city of Malvent is ruled ruled by the self-styled Supreme Scepter Bellas Thanatar and the Merchant Dukes, named Pirithin Alagost, Iritar the Dark, Saleska Mintharl, Halabankh Ormsarr, Haldyn Stormkin, and Alascartha Vyperwood. They are all former adventurers of the company known as Bellas's Band, and each of them grew has grown increasingly wealthy and powerful by following him and supporting his rule. In all decisions on major policies, each duke has one vote while Bellas has two. Nevertheless, the Dukes wielded significant power. Under them were two barons, Uthorn and Wenszrin. Below the Merchant Dukes and their barons, the Council of Lords rules over the city of Old Malvent, though they are more often concerned with affairs that could line their coffers. All members are required to be merchants of some kind and vacant seats can be purchased for at least 100,000 gp while a new one could be created starting at a sum of 2,000,000 gp. Presently, the Nanther, Leiyraghon, and Bruil noble families held all 21 of the council's seats. Four positions in the council have more influence than others. The Lord Chancellor is Chairman of the Council, Treasurer and also Last Speaker. The First Envoy is the Council's First Speaker and Diplomat. The Lord of the Keys is the General of Malvent's army, while the Lord of the Waves is the Admiral of it's navy and Chief Inspector of the city's docks. Below these four lords, all of the others are theoretically equal in influence. The lords meet once a month to discuss issues but these meetings could last up to five days depending on the importance of the topics being discussed and the power plays made by council members. One such meeting will occur tomorrow."
"Other possible suspects consist of the two great thieves guilds of the city -- the Shade Mantle and the Moon Masks."
"The Shade Mantle is a secretive and powerful consortium of thieves' guild in western Caeril that are headquartered in the Unterese city of Bakshishum, far to the south, having relocated from their base in Xisuthros in the Rapier Coast trading nation of Vulkano the century prior. They were formerly the most prominent thieves' guild in the great Rapier Coast metropolis of Deeping Well, but were routed from the city by the Masked Lady Lhestyn Arunsun. They control many of the criminal operations along the Rapier Coast, and are growing into the largest and most prosperous thieves guild in all of Caeril, with ultimate goal of further increasing their collective influence and wealth. They are rumored to have a prominent safe house somewhere in Old Malvent."
"The Moon Masks are a local Blood Sea guild that is headquartered in Malvent, Phloon, Saershar, and several other city-states of the region. They are servants of the vulture-winged goddess Belsameth, Mother of Assassins. They resent the recent incursion of the Shade Mantle into their traditional territory, and a deadly underworld war currently rages between the two guilds. It is possible one of these groups is to blame for Ezria's disappearance. Both are involved in slave trade with several parties, including our own representatives, and those of the piratical Reavers of the Toe Islands of the Sea of Blood, and the Citadel of Tarim."
"The Citadel of Tarim, which lies to the east, is built on the bones of an ancient bastion of the giants, children of the Titan Kadum, who once ruled this region. The humans, orcs, half-orcs, and other allies who populate this ancient site of power are servants of Kamus, the dark god of slavery, as well as the White Goddess. Their agents are spread throughout the Blood Sea, and they intend to conquer the entire region in time. It is easy to imagine they may seek some advantage by abducting Ezria as a bargaining chip. For many years, the agents of the Citadel have sought to impede my assistance to their habitual foes, the secret society of spellsingers known as the Minstrels. They may seek to use my apprentice as leverage to force me and the rest of the Circle of Eight from interference in their territories."
"Additionally, Old Malvent is home to many dark cults and the representatives of other power blocs. It is believed that the city sits on the ruins of the ancient Old Sanguinian city of Mondowshan, and that these ruins host several demon cults, as well as a chamber of the Order of the Dracolich."
"We must find Ezria first, and ensure neither the Hidden Empire of the Scarlet Brotherhood, nor the slavers of the Citadel of Tarim, or any other malign force gains the power of the Rod of Seven Parts."
A long pause ensues before the Mordenkainen concludes, gravely
"Will you aid me in this quest?"
As the elven luckbringer enter the tavern, he witnesses the fiery display brought on by Mordenkainen. Eladithas's keen senses detects everyone and everything in the room..even a face he has only seen in a dream. Overjoyed as he was, the elf godling maintained his composure to listen to the acrhmage's tale.
A long pause ensues before the Mordenkainen concludes, gravely
"Will you aid me in this quest?"
From across the tavern, in a voice your hear, speaking your native language perfectly, answers, "The Sons of Desna will see it through!"
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The albino drained his cup and set it quietly on the table deeply missing the days where beautiful women whispered mysterious riddles and desires into your ear about hidden artifacts and treasure. No need for the flamboyant entrance or massive monologues. But there were things even he could not ignore.
"You speak at great length about nations and guilds and mortal affairs while barely touching upon your true intent." the man's voice is low and weary but clearly heard through the silence. "Tell me, you who would not want the rod to fall into the hands of the wicked, what of your hands? Or the hands here? Let us imagine for a moment the rod is retrieved and this venture a success. To what end would that lead?"
Active Element: Air (Electricity)
Elemental Flux Style: Weapon gains elemental burst enchantment. May change element 1/round as a free action. Wis mod to damage of next attack after change before start of next turn.
Elemental Flux Stance: 2d6 extra damage and resistance 15 of active element.
active element ability: Your speed and perception are heightened, granting you a +4 bonus on initiative checks and a +4 dodge bonus to your AC.
Curent Bound Spirits
Name: Bercilak Hautdesert: The Green Knight
Pact Length 24 hours
Pact Type Good
Major Power Buffoonery: You curse one target within 30 feet to act like a buffoon as a standard action, causing it to lose all weapon and armor proficiencies and increase its spell failure chance with spells it casts by 25% for 1 minute. In addition, no skill is considered to be on its list of class skills and all terrain is considered to be difficult terrain for it. A successful Will save negates this effect. This ability is a curse effect. After using this ability, it becomes expended for 5 rounds.
capstone Buffoonery is permanent unless dispelled by remove curse or a similar effect.
Minor Powers
Devoted: While you are bound to Bercilak Hautdesert, you gain a +4 bonus against all mind-affecting effects as well as the benefits of the slippery mind rogue talent.
Regenerate: You repair your body of even the most grievous of wounds, functioning as regenerate except this ability is personal range only and targets you. You can use this ability a number of times per day equal to 3 + your Charisma modifier.
Sacred Submission: You can force one supernatural creature to submit to your will as a standard action, functioning as dominate person except this ability affects fey and outsiders with the evil subtype instead of humanoids. You may only dominate one target at a time with this ability; dominating a new target frees the previous target. At 20th level, this ability can target any creature regardless of type, functioning as dominate monster. You can use this ability a number of times per day equal to 3 + your Charisma modifier.
Unbreakable Body: While you are bound to Bercilak Hautdesert, you are immune to ability damage done to your Strength, Dexterity, or Constitution scores. In addition, you do not die when your head is severed, though the trauma does cause you to become staggered until your head is reattached to your body. Furthermore, your head is able to see, hear, and act and communicate with your body while severed as if using telepathic bond.
Name: Pevwyrn Pervon: The Belied Apprentice
Pact Length 24 hours
Pact Type Good
Major Power Acidic Bolt: As a standard action, you can unleash a bolt of acid that strikes one opponent within 30 feet as a ranged touch attack. If it hits, the target suffers 2d4 points of acid damage. For every three binder levels that you possess, the acid, unless neutralized, lasts for another round (maximum 6 rounds), dealing another 2d4 points of damage in each round. After using this ability, it becomes expended for 5 rounds.
capstone Your acidic bolt deals 50% additional damage each round. This doesn’t stack with the empower major ability binder secret and similar effects.
Minor Powers Alchemical Infusion: You can transform a number of vials of water into magical extracts, functioning as an alchemist’s alchemy. Each day, you can affect a number of vials of water in this manner equal to half your binder level (minimum 1). You may prepare any 2nd level or lower extract with this ability and your caster level is equal to your binder level. Other creatures gain no benefit from drinking these extracts unless you possess Pevwyrn Pervon’s vestigial boon; otherwise, they are wasted when consumed by another creature. When your pact with Pevwyrn Pervon ends, these extracts lose their potency and become water once more.
Extracts: Heightened Awareness, Tears to Wine, Investigative Mind, Invisibilityx2, Cure Moderate Wounds, Certain Grip
Classically Schooled: Select two Intelligence-based skills when you seal your pact with Pevwyrn Pervon. While you are bound to Pevwyrn Pervon, you gain an insight bonus on skill checks made with those skills equal to half your binder level. (Spellcraft, Know (Local)
Miraculous Transmutation: While you are bound to Pevwyrn Pervon, when you deal energy damage with an alchemical item, a spell-like ability, or a granted ability, you can change all damage dealt into one of the following types of energy: acid, cold, electricity, or fire. Spell-like abilities and granted abilities gain the appropriate energy descriptor when they are modified in this way. You can use this ability a number of times per day equal to 3 + your Charisma modifier. VESTIGIAL BOND OCCULT WEAPON
Shield from Flames: While you are bound to Pevwyrn Pervon, you gain fire resistance 5. At 5th level and every 5 binder levels thereafter, this resistance increases by 5. At 20th level, you become immune to fire damage instead.
Name: Ma’Zad and Aza’Mi: Lovers in Battle
Pact Length 24 hours
Pact Type Good
Major Power Thrown to the Wind: You hurl one adjacent target with a swift, fluid motion as a standard action. Make a trip attempt against your target, using your binder level in place of your base attack bonus and your Charisma bonus in place of your Strength when calculating your combat maneuver bonus. If you successfully trip your target, your target is flung backwards 10 feet in a straight line away from you for every 5 by which your trip attempt exceeds your target’s CMD. After using this ability, it becomes expended for 5 rounds.
capstone
The supernatural winds created by thrown to the wind attempt to rip 1d4 items from its person and deposit them in a random square within d100 feet. Roll on the items affected by magical attacks table in Chapter 9 of the Pathfinder Roleplaying Game Core Rulebook to determine which items are affected, if any. A successful Reflex save negates this effect. If the target rolls a natural 1 on this Reflex save, all items on its person are affected (including its clothing).
Minor Powers
Battlefield Reflexes: While you are bound to Ma’Zad, you gain a +2 bonus to your Dexterity score as well as the benefits of Combat Reflexes. If you already possess Combat Reflexes, increase the Dexterity bonus to +4 instead.
Ice Skean: You create a supernatural dagger of frozen ice at will as a standard action, functioning as icicle dagger except that the dagger possesses a +1 enhancement bonus for every 4 binder levels you possess as well as one of the following abilities of your choice: frost, ghost touch, keen, or returning. You can change which ability your dagger possesses as a swift action.
Lover by Nightfall: While you are bound to the Lovers in Battle, you gain darkvision out 90 feet. If you have darkvision from another source, improve that darkvision by 30 feet instead. In addition, you can cast produce flame as a spell-like ability at will and when you succeed on a Diplomacy check to improve a creature’s attitude, it improves by two steps if you are within 30 feet of a fire.
Preemptive Strike: While you are bound to Ma’Zad, the first opponent to hit you with a melee attack each round provokes an attack of opportunity from you for doing so.
Putrefy Food and Water
As a standard action, the pactmaker can cause up to 1 cubic pound of food or water per pactmaker level she possesses to immediately spoil with a touch. Magically blessed or prepared food receives a Will saving throw to negate this effect, using its creator (or caster’s) saving throw bonus. The pactmaker can use this ability a number of times per day equal to 3 + her Charisma modifier (minimum 1).
At the mention of himself, Myrwyn jumps up again. "Wtf son of Desna?! I didn't say anything!" he goes, stupidly revealing his disguise.
He turns his head to Mordenkainen. "Well, of course I'm interested, you probably already know..." But then he walks to the stranger. "Who are you to speak on someone else's behalf? Show your colors!" he shouts, believing the elf was referring to Myrwyn himself.
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The elf steps out of the shadows with a beautiful smile.
"Myrwyn! You fool! It's me, Eladithas!"
The elf godling reached over and embraced the stunned human.
Well, this was confounding. With such a public spectacle, it would likely occupy people's thoughts and conversations for quite some time. Word would undoubtedly get out that he was present at such spectacle, making him even more obvious than his baseline. It would be unlikely that he would be able to continue his mission as intended. It wasn't even clear that this was the right location to follow up on Mr. Phraist and the golem designated Alexandria.
On top of his frustration was a definite curiosity. This rod would be magic of exceptional complexity. He doubted that he could truly understand an artifact, but examination would surely lead to inspiration. Mordenkainen was a legendary wizard. Interacting with him was an incredible opportunity and being successful would likely result in favorable opportunities. In addition, these heroes might provide even more opportunities. If the empathetic phyrexian joined, an detailed examination might help them to find ways to turn others of their race. Or to find weaknesses they could exploit for defense against their race.
He found that he had decided. "Pardon me, Master Mordenkainen. You had called for heroes and I'm not sure I qualify as such. But I do have quite a repertoire of exceptional abilities that I think could be useful for such a mission. I would prefer not to have a primordial menace emerge from the Abyss, and I feel that such a challenge could be conducive to personal growth as well. I would like to volunteer to aid this endeavor."
With this, he made a note to send word back home about the change in priorities. He also began to memorize this unusual tavern, in case they needed to return to it dimensionally.
When Mordekainen finishes speaking, Krynn in turn rises from his seat and gives the legendary archmage a deep, respectful bow - much deeper than the one for the others thusfar. He then reaches into a bag on his belt and produces a beautiful curved, short blade of elven make that he presents to the man, holding it reverently in two outstreched palms.
In Tromek culture, is is considered proper to offer a gift upon meeting someone of import. The correct response is to refuse the gift, after which the other side offers their own gift, which is then also refused.
In this case, Krynn offers a masterwork Byrglaif. While not especially valuable materialistically, the forging of one requires secret smithing techniques and crafting permissions only available to the most honored elven blackmsiths. As such, spread of such weapons is very tightly controlled outside of Tromek. To grant one to an outsider is a exceptional occurence in and of itself.
"It is a great honor to meet you personally, Angen. I am Krynn, of the Wyred. Sword of the Divine. As requested, I have answered your summons. Your warnings are dire, and the stakes great for all of us. As such, you have my sword so long as your designs do not conflict with those of my people."
There's a slight sift of his eyes to the left, briefly surveying the common room with the skeptical Dyrvic on one hand and Eladithas hugging Myrwyn on the other.
Them, and all the other commoners present here, who'd just been publicly told or reminded of the specifics concercing the very creation of the cosmos and how this Rod could spell an immense risk to the balance of power in it. Not to mention how odd at least half this group looked. Was a tavern really the best place to discuss all this?
But his eyes quickly trail back to Mordenkainen. It wasn't his place to question his designs openly. The man was infinitely more experienced than him or any other here, allegedly, and was due the just amount of respect and undivided attention while he remained present.
"If I may speak," he adds once the wizard gives his response regarding the gift, "I assume that scrying attempts for your apprentice have failed? And on this topic, do you happen to possess anything belonging to him or a known residence where he normally resided?"
The albino drained his cup and set it quietly on the table deeply missing the days where beautiful women whispered mysterious riddles and desires into your ear about hidden artifacts and treasure. No need for the flamboyant entrance or massive monologues. But there were things even he could not ignore.
"You speak at great length about nations and guilds and mortal affairs while barely touching upon your true intent." the man's voice is low and weary but clearly heard through the silence. "Tell me, you who would not want the rod to fall into the hands of the wicked, what of your hands? Or the hands here? Let us imagine for a moment the rod is retrieved and this venture a success. To what end would that lead?"
** spoiler omitted **...
The great archmage replies in a steely tone, "I am the chief steward of the august assembly of magic users known as the Circle of Eight -- for centuries we have sought to curb the ambitions of all over eager parties -- good, evil, lawful, or chaotic, and maintain the freedom of the mortal realms. The Circle of Eight is the supreme champion of balance in the lands of Caeril. My actions and those of my compatriot archmagi speak for themselves. If the Circle of Eight seeks to secure the Rod of Seven Parts, it is only so that it does not fall into the hands of any who would use its power to promote their own interests, whatever they might be."
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When Mordekainen finishes speaking, Krynn in turn rises from his seat and gives the legendary archmage a deep, respectful bow - much deeper than the one for the others thusfar. He then reaches into a bag on his belt and produces a beautiful curved, short blade of elven make that he presents to the man, holding it reverently in two outstreched palms.
** spoiler omitted **
"It is a great honor to meet you personally, Angen. I am Krynn, of the Wyred. Sword of the Divine. As requested, I have answered your summons. Your warnings are dire, and the stakes great for all of us. As such, you have my sword so long as your designs do not conflict with those of my people."
There's a slight sift of his eyes to the left, briefly surveying the common room with the skeptical Dyrvic on one hand and Eladithas hugging Myrwyn on the other.
Them, and all the other commoners present here, who'd just been publicly told or reminded of the specifics concercing the very creation of the cosmos and how this Rod could spell an immense risk to the balance of power in it. Not to mention how odd at least half this group looked. Was a tavern really the best place to discuss all this?
But his eyes quickly trail back to Mordenkainen. It wasn't his place to question his designs openly. The man was infinitely more experienced than him or any other here, allegedly, and was due the just...
Mordenkainen bows respectfully to Krynn before gently pushing away the proffered token with his staff and instead motioning pointedly at Krynn to instead take the arch magi's rod into his own hands.
When, according to the customs of the Tromek, Krynn likewise refuses the gift, Mordenkainen continues,
"None of my magics have succeeded in deducing Ezria's whereabouts, or hints thereof. Whoever has abducted her, must have access to powerful magics, and this in and of itself is a cause for deep concern. Any who have the ability to shield themselves from the divinations of the assembled Circle of Eight must be a powerful foe indeed."
"My last knowledge of Ezria's whereabouts were conveyed in a cryptic letter. In this communication, Ezria wrote that she believed herself to be close to discovering the location of one of the pieces of the Rod, and that she believed the truth of the matter would be revealed after she had been able to discuss the contents of an ancient tome entitled the Codex of the Infinite Planes that had recently come into her possession with a well known scholar of time before the Divine War known as Carathis Scrollseeker, a sage of the great repository of knowledge known as the Citadel of the Lantern. The Codex purportedly described an event which transpired during the days of the ancient Kingdom of Angromar, Realm of the Witch King Zhengyi, in which the necromancer sought to employ a piece of the Rod to bargain with the emissaries of the Queen of Chaos. Apparently, the negotiations turned to violence when each party attempted to double-cross the other, and the result was the destruction of the ancient Angromarian capital of Karin Guldoor, near the present day site of the city-states of Phloon and Uskward, when a pitched battle opened between the slaad, evil elementals, and tana'ri under the command of the Queen of Chaos and the undead minions of Zhengyi. What happened after her meeting with Carathis this meeting, or if it occurred at all, I cannot tell you."
The great archmage replies in a steely tone, "I am the chief steward of the august assembly of magic users known as the Circle of Eight -- for centuries we have sought to curb the ambitions of all over eager parties -- good, evil, lawful, or chaotic, and maintain the freedom of the mortal realms. The Circle of Eight is the supreme champion of balance in the lands of Caeril. My actions and those of my compatriot archmagi speak for themselves. If the Circle of Eight seeks to secure the Rod of Seven Parts, it is only so that it does not fall into the hands of any who would use its power to promote their own interests, whatever they might be."
The man smiled sardonically, "If only such titles and deeds could mean immunity from the failings that befall all men." Then his manner darkened and his voice lowered speaking as if referencing to some distant memory. "Or held any weight against the grander struggles in the multiverse."
He paused for a moment as the wizard answered the one called Krynn's sincere questions.
Such a twisting maze of conspiracies, enemies, and powers. Given how much the wizard was talking he wouldn't be surprised if the apprentice simply didn't make herself undetectable to get some peace. She'd have plenty with all the suspicion he was placing upon the whole region. Still, his curiosity was piqued. He had not heard anything about the rod for millennia. He questioned whether it even was on this plane in any form and he wondered if this was the true rod or merely some magical artifact mistaken for the real article. And if the woman was truly abducted he wondered at what forces were at play that would risk an enemy so potent as this council of eight.
"Very well, if for no other reason than to satisfy my own questions I will help you retrieve your missing apprentice. May we move to more private surroundings? With as many enemies as you've just named it would do well for her to risk as little as possible as we work this puzzle amongst ourselves."
The great archmage replies in a steely tone, "I am the chief steward of the august assembly of magic users known as the Circle of Eight -- for centuries we have sought to curb the ambitions of all over eager parties -- good, evil, lawful, or chaotic, and maintain the freedom of the mortal realms. The Circle of Eight is the supreme champion of balance in the lands of Caeril. My actions and those of my compatriot archmagi speak for themselves. If the Circle of Eight seeks to secure the Rod of Seven Parts, it is only so that it does not fall into the hands of any who would use its power to promote their own interests, whatever they might be."The man smiled sardonically, "If only such titles and deeds could mean immunity from the failings that befall all men." Then his manner darkened and his voice lowered speaking as if referencing to some distant memory. "Or held any weight against the grander struggles in the multiverse."
He paused for a moment as the wizard answered the one called Krynn's sincere questions.
Such a twisting maze of conspiracies, enemies, and powers. Given how much the wizard was talking he wouldn't be surprised if the apprentice simply didn't make herself undetectable to get some peace. She'd have plenty with all the suspicion he was placing upon the whole region. Still, his curiosity was piqued. He had not heard anything about the rod for millennia. He questioned whether it even was on this plane in any form and he wondered if this was the true rod or merely some magical artifact mistaken for the real article. And if the woman was truly abducted he wondered at what forces were at play that would risk an enemy so potent as this council of eight.
"Very well, if for no other reason than to satisfy my own questions I will help you retrieve your missing apprentice. May we move to more private surroundings? With as many enemies as you've just named it would do well for her to risk as little as possible as we work this...
Mordenkainen cracks a wicked smile,
"What makes you think our location isn't already secure?"
The surroundings of the Floating Flame begin to shift as if the entirety were nothing but a mirage, and resolve into a large chamber made out of what appears to be a solid mass of obsidian the size of a mountain. Presumably, this is a room deep within the confines of the famous Obsidian Citadel of the archmage Mordenkainen the magnificent. The citadel observes the wastes of eastern Caeril from the lofty peaks of the Ganbaatar Mountains, which border the isolated nation of Pteranlund.
The upper reaches of the domed chamber are lost in darkness, and the walls contain no obvious points of egress. The large space appears to be some sort of secure summoning chamber. The floor is inscribed with an immense rune inlaid with gold, and the a thin bank of fog roils on the floor.
As the company orient themselves to their new surroundings, the archmage continues,
"I apologize if my deception has caused you any unease -- the Floating Flame contains one of many portals to my citadel that I have distributed throughout the lands of Caeril. I had to assess your intentions before revealing your true location. If my entreaties had been unwelcome, I could merely have purged the memory of our brief encounter from your minds, and you would have eventually left the Floating Flame none the wiser of its true nature or with any recollection of our encounter that might be exploited by any of my many enemies. Know, that from the moment you entered the tavern, you had stepped into a pocket dimension that is connected to this summoning chamber. The other occupants of the tavern are merely advanced illusions or different servants of mine."
The archmage gestures at the undifferentiated wall of the summoning chamber, and a door materializes in the obsidian, taking shape by means of an undulating motion that makes the black rock seem to be a living thing.
"If you will accompany me, I shall be happy to converse at greater length in my study."
Rook will steady himself internally. Apparently he had illusions that had independent thoughts, no magical aura and were proof against his enhanced senses. He updated his estimation of the legendary figure. Still, this power meant it was even more important to stay on his good side.
He will progress to the study.
The elf godling chuckles at the deception and the grandiose accommodations they all now share. With his hand on Myrwyn's shoulder, both brother walk to the study.
Krynn blinks, and his lips part slightly - as close at he would let himself be astonished to the outside world. If the archmage didn't already have his respect by reputation and proper knowledge of his customs, this massive display of illusional power certainly did the trick.
Thus he followed the archmage further on his invitation, keeping in the back of his mind for now to ask more about this person who had allegedly seen Exria last - Carathis Scrollseeker, and how to reach him the fastest. Time was of the essence, if the other factions were similarly on the move...
"Okay, okay..." Myrwyn murmurs while trying to escape from his half-brother's grapple. "Let's hear what the Archmage has to say." He's always been the grumpy one of the family.
He pays good attention to something that he knows will end up in him going on adventure again. Many ancient history, titles, etc... but if this is all true - and he has no reason to doubt the word of Mordenkainen himself - then his duty calls.
Once assured that they're in a safe haven, and following the Archmage's invitation, Myrwyn casually comments.
"And... do these rod parts have any power on their own?"
Dyrvic looked a little surprised and laughed a little as the room melted and the old wizard played his clever trick.
"Do you always get your help through hapless fools and drunkards who wander into your traps? Or is this strange gathering by design? I suppose it doesn't matter which if I'm fool enough either way."
Picking up Stormbringer it muttered a little as it was put in place at Dyrvic's side. It longed to be set loose, to feed, and Dyrvic had to expend some effort just to make it stay in it's scabbard. Hoisting his shield over his shoulder he followed into the study. He would hear the wizard out and hope for the sake of the others that the latter of his statement was the truth of it. Or, he caught himself thinking, perhaps that would be the least favorable reason after all.
The archmage ushers you into his study and gestures at a map of the vast city-state of Malvent spread upon an enormous desk. The top of the work surface is made of what appears to be a solid block of marble that is several feet thick and must weigh several tons. The body and feet are made of wood inlaid with gold. The map depicts the eastern and western districts of the city on either side of the River of Evening Vespers.
Mordenkainen begins to point at several locations on the map,
"Without knowledge of my foes, I must remain in my seclusion in the safety of this fortress, and a similar caution will be observed by the other members of the Circle of Eight. I can, however, direct your inquiries and explorations from the information bequeathed to me by my network of spies."
"Here," he points at a walled district on the northern shore of western Old Malevent, "That's the naval district, and the governmental buildings and estates of the Supreme Scepter, his Merchant Dukes, and the Council of Lords lie nearby. Just outside this district, even further north is the ambassadorial district," he points at an island in the River of Evening Vespers,"that is the embassy of the Land of Thaythilor, homeland of the Hidden Empire of the Scarlet Brotherhood. Beware their machinations. I know they intend to curry additional influence in this city."
Mordenkainen points at the retractable bridge that connects the two sides of the city, "It is rumored one or both of the thieves guilds I mentioned -- Shade Mantle and the Moon Masks, have some kind of safe house or headquarters near the Malventian Vesperspan -- all the bridges over this river are know as 'vesperspan' by ancient custom, so we identify which city or road the individual one of the hundreds of vesperspans are indicated."
He then points at the docks on the southern border of Eastern Malvent, "Most of the traders from other territories in the Sea of Blood region dock here. I would begin by investigations of any potential connection to the Citadel of Tarim there."
He looks up and arches an eyebrow,
"I needn't emphasize, I am sure, that time is of the essence. What other questions do you have before you set your hands to the task?"
The elf godling thinks for a few moments, then shakes his head. "Nothing comes to mind."
Krynn nods at the additional information. "Do you have a physical description of Ezria? And something we could tell her so that she knows we're working with you, and that she can trust us?" he asks, then adds: "It would also be helpful to have some sort of description of the rod, should that exist. Though I suspect an artefact of such legendary power would be easy to recognize."
Afterwards, he turns to the group. "I realize time if of the essence, so longer introductions between us need perhaps be delayed. Still, unless someone objects, I would like to consult the Father's winds for their knowledge. I would ask which of these leads would lead us to Ezria the fastest, unless any of you have a better suggestion for the question. Something tells me that asking for her location directly would end in failure, as otherwise the Circle of Eight would have already found her. It would take around ten minutes, but might save us a lot of lost time."
Krynn takes a meditative position on the floor and begins to mutter the long incantion for the spell. He asks: "To find Ezria Santhrasslisan the Insightful - apprentice of Mordenkainen - the fastest, which of the leads known to us should we persue first?"
While Rook has been silent, he floats up and over to address the group.
"If they are attempting to stop the Circle of Eight, then they will use extraordinary measures to block divinations about Ezria Santhrasslisan. Most likely several measures, and drawing on stronger sources of magic than are commonly available." There is a cold logic to the voice coming here. "I would assume that they will send us far away. Possibly into a trap or directing us at other enemies of the cabal."
"If this is related to the other disappearances, I know of a person who has gone missing recently. Iacco Phraist, a human merchant specializing in exotic magic items. If the same group has taken him, then they may not have used the same level of resources to shield him from divination. However, they would expect magic used to find a merchant of magic."
"Yet, I know a target they may overlook. It's less likely that they would shield objects from divination quite so aggressively. Iacco had a golem. A shield guardian caryatid golem of fine green marble. Iacco called her Alexandria. If they took him by force, then finding her remains may give us clues to the attack. However, if they took him by deception, they may have been able to get the control amulet from him. Acquiring a golem of exceptional capability would be a useful resource. As the golem's creator, I can give you the sigils used to animate her. This should be useful for divinations."
He pauses, "Of course, this may not be related. I understand this if we choose a different route."
With that, he floats back down and into silence again.
"True. I would suspect some sort of misdirection, which is why I planned to take one of the remaining options, under the assumption we'd get the worst possible result presented to us as the best one. It still might remove one branch for ten minutes of work," Krynn admits to Rook. "Regardless, this missing acquaintance of yours, did he have psionic talents as well? According to what Archmage Mordenkainen just told us, this is what links the victims together. If not, why would you assume it is the same group that took him?"
Content at first to simply to simply observe and watch the elf and construct converse thw pale skinned swoardaman chimes in.
"Did she travel alone? Servants? Companions? Spirits, demons, or elementals watching over her under your or her own bidding we might call here for more details?"
"Iacco did have some modest psionic ability. In his case, the unique part was not the strength of his abilities, but that he was learning how to combine them with arcane spellcasting. He was also a dealer in both conventional and psionic items, so he may have been targeted for an acquisition of his."
He continues, "As somebody carrying valuable merchandise, he had many ways to protect himself. I find it improbable that there are two groups abducting people of note."
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Krynn nods at the additional information. "Do you have a physical description of Ezria? And something we could tell her so that she knows we're working with you, and that she can trust us?" he asks, then adds: "It would also be helpful to have some sort of description of the rod, should that exist. Though I suspect an artefact of such legendary power would be easy to recognize."
Afterwards, he turns to the group. "I realize time if of the essence, so longer introductions between us need perhaps be delayed. Still, unless someone objects, I would like to consult the Father's winds for their knowledge. I would ask which of these leads would lead us to Ezria the fastest, unless any of you have a better suggestion for the question. Something tells me that asking for her location directly would end in failure, as otherwise the Circle of Eight would have already found her. It would take around ten minutes, but might save us a lot of lost time."
** spoiler omitted **
https://www.d20pfsrd.com/magic/all-spells/d/divination/
or it might take the form of a cryptic rhyme or omen
By the cries of an uncaring mother, the Citadel of ten thousand sighs has been made to falter
The chains of the flesh have been exchanged for the fetters of thinking
The leaches of the fallen gods prepare the great alter
The count of doom is irrevocably ticking
Content at first to simply to simply observe and watch the elf and construct converse thw pale skinned swoardaman chimes in.
"Did she travel alone? Servants? Companions? Spirits, demons, or elementals watching over her under your or her own bidding we might call here for more details?"
"She possessed a familiar -- an affable flumpf though perpetually irritating creature named bizzzzwitt. Its whereabouts are similarly obscured."
Krynn nods at the additional information. "Do you have a physical description of Ezria? And something we could tell her so that she knows we're working with you, and that she can trust us?" he asks, then adds: "It would also be helpful to have some sort of description of the rod, should that exist. Though I suspect an artefact of such legendary power would be easy to recognize."
Afterwards, he turns to the group. "I realize time if of the essence, so longer introductions between us need perhaps be delayed. Still, unless someone objects, I would like to consult the Father's winds for their knowledge. I would ask which of these leads would lead us to Ezria the fastest, unless any of you have a better suggestion for the question. Something tells me that asking for her location directly would end in failure, as otherwise the Circle of Eight would have already found her. It would take around ten minutes, but might save us a lot of lost time."
** spoiler omitted **
Mordenkainen replies, "mention the true nature of the Floating Flame -- that it is an entry to the Obsidian Citadel, and our meeting, and she will know that none but a guest of mine could possess this intelligence."
"As to her appearance, she is a slender half-elf of about 5' 3'' height, with a thick mane of raven dark hair that pools at her feet. Her eyes are a brilliant emerald and she generally wears a purple cloak decorated with tiny diamonds in the shape of the constellations of Caeril. I imagine her vestments have been altered somewhat in her present circumstances."
"The account in the Codex of Infinite Planes of the destruction of the yuan-ti Witch King Zhengyi's capital of Karin Guldoor says that the Rod was a piece of shining white alloy some six to twelve inches in length, and that it had no other markings apparent on its surface, but sometimes glowed with glyphs that shone like the sun and midday."
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"she is a slender half-elf of about 5' 3'' height, with a thick mane of raven dark hair that pools at her feet. Her eyes are a brilliant emerald and she generally wears a purple cloak decorated with tiny diamonds in the shape of the constellations of Caeril."
Myrwyn uses his magical hood to adopt the appearance that Mordenkainen is just describing, as proof that physical aspect isn't necessarily reliable.
"If they have magic potent enough to fool divination, they're surely able to hide her looks."
He agrees, though, that it's quite unlikely that two different groups start kidnapping psion active people, and so votes for giving this idea a try.
"Do we have access to this golem?"
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Deciding to try while the others asked other questions of the Archmage, yet listening along in meantime, Krynn shares the cryptic riddle that comes of his Divination, hoping it would make a difference somewhere on the way, even if he didn't see how yet. Such was the nature of those magics, after all.
He stores the descriptions of Ezria and the Rod to memory, then nods to Merwyn and Rook. "Agreed. It is as good a start as any, probably, and might be a less expected approach for our enemies and competitors. If no one objects, I'd say we let Rook take the lead in finding this lead of his and move out swiftly."
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Dyrvic frowns at the cryptic riddle of a divination which deepens at the understanding that the womans traveling partners met the same fate. He grasps on to the only two real details in the riddle.
"Does she have any living family here in Malvent?"
Dyrvic frowns at the cryptic riddle of a divination which deepens at the understanding that the womans traveling partners met the same fate. He grasps on to the only two real details in the riddle.
"Does she have any living family here in Malvent?"
Mordenkainen shakes his head, "Not besides myself, she was orphaned in one of the elf-orc wars, and I raised her from a young age."
Knowledge [local]
Dyrvic filed the information away for further consideration. He was building a picture of the trap used on the woman. There were many ways to imprison someone and often the easiest was to convince someone that their cage was what they wanted all along. Emotions were a powerful thing and a useful snare to inflict pain. Few would lnow better than he.
With that he turned his thoughts to the second line of the riddle and he suspected at its answer before his mind could pull one from memory. From whose memory he could no longer tell but memory nonetheless.
know local
"I am not skilled at divinations. I expect me investigation would have needed more direct work. But we have a clue, and should follow it." He begins musing aloud. "Perhaps it is a place that was converted to a university or a library? The ticking implies machinery - perhaps a clock tower. I am not as conversant with sighs or chains of flesh, but perhaps this was once a brothel or slave pens. Or a temple of a god that required sacrifice?"