A sudden flash illuminates the dark sky, revealing an imposing stone bastion that cracks the smooth horizon. Arcs of lightning dance across the rain-soaked heavens in concert with the booming drums of thunder.
Thick drops drench everything they touch, and cause pools of water to puddle on the winding dirt road. This road abruptly ends at a looming stone staircase that climbs to a stone causeway
leading to the bastion’s formidable walls. Caradoc Alazario waits, shackled within.
Venture-Captain Adril Hestram’s familiar voice booms once more in your ears from several
weeks ago in balmy Absalom.
"Friends!" exclaimed Hestram. "May I introduce Bartavious Vlade, a generous patron and collector of obscure artifacts."
As Bartavious stood, his girth squeezed out from his chair. His jowls quivered as he spoke.
"Greetings. Recently, I funded an exploration into the Sodden Lands to uncover astrological trappings from the Saoc Brethren. Although the mission failed to bare any such objects, what we did find was more interesting.
Hidden inside the ruins of sunken Oagon, my expedition discovered a vile series of pitted bronze disks."
Bartavious’s face darkened, "Translating these disks revealed their gruesome nature. Dedicated to Urgathoa, these tableaus depicted obscene rituals. Knowing these disks represented evil, I intended to ask the society to secure them within their many vaults for safe keeping."
Whispering, Bartavious continued, "Urgathoa herself must have sensed the disks, for as our ship sailed back to Absalom, that bastard Chelish pirate, Caradoc Alazario, stole the cargo!" Bartavious squished once more into his chair; through gasps he offered, "I have spent a fortune and finally located the pirate, who now rots inside a bastion within the Sodden Lands. His own cousin, the Mayor of Egorian, placed a bounty on his head too rich to pass up. Now, our disks rest
at the bottom of the sea inside Caradoc’s sunken ship. I provided your Venture-Captain with all the details."
Adril Hestram smiled. "We have work to do, make your way to this bastion and break out the pirate Caradoc Alazario. Our ship can’t approach the bastion, so you’ll need to acquire another one in order to flee with the pirate. In exchange for his freedom, ask him to take you to the
site of his shipwreck." Hestram looked a bit sheepish as he continued, "It looks like you are all going for a swim, so go prepared."
A crash of lightning banishes the memory, bringing chill winds and unrelenting rain. Up ahead, at the end of the stone causeway, the Chelish bastion stands resolute, hinting at calmer conditions within.
Tethered together by entrails from an unrecognizable
beast, these four bronze, pitted disks, each the size of a
human fist, hold esteem within the cults of Urgathoa.
The disks were given as a gift to Dason for penning the text Serving Your Hunger. Rumors suggest his magical skills swelled once he received this award.
They are said to hold a necromantic aura.
When viewed during a moonless, starless night, occult lore suggests the defiled disks of Urgathoa meld into one large bronze plate, and if the
wielder eats a meal from this plate, she is favored by Urgathoa herself..
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Two sharply presented black-hulled warships pulled out of the harbour following the Pathfinder vessel, siege weapons on display as though on parade, their Andoran flags gently dancing in the wind with the stylised eagle motif seemingly in flight. A subdued nameplate reveals one ship as ‘The Raven’, the other as 'The Voracious' - former ship of the legendary pirate Sempet Sevenfingers. A juvenile roc flies above the ships, occasionally letting out a screech which is met with cheers from the sailors on the decks below.
As the ships leave the view of the harbour the crew swap out their neat uniforms for loose-fitting and comfortable garb - more resembling pirates. The Andoran flags are lowered, and no flags are raised in their place.
***
After the ships are well underway, the roc bears a passenger to the Pathfinder vessel, a slightly disreputable and roguish-looking Galtan dressed in naval attire steps onto the deck and adjusts his basket of red wine, fresh bread, and soft cheese before finding his way to the briefing.
***
Know (Hist)
"Urgh - Urgathoan trash. What do we want with such items, are they safe? What do they do?"
"Bastard Chelish pirate? Tell me more of this person...I have my own reputation in the Shackles, mind that the bastard part refers to his relationship with Cheliax than a broader comment on the free brotherhood of the sea" he smiles, the expression being more akin to a predator than a friend.
***
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You do not hear much from shy but likable Setare.
She seems to be quite nervous and looks around often.
Setare is a scrawny girl with auburn hair and amber eyes.
Her features seem Chelaxian but also have something else mixed in.
She is wearing a brown adventuring outfit but no armor. She has a plume on her head, carries a scimitar at her hip that is attached to her left wrist with a very fine chain and has a finely crafted adamantine chestus attached to her right hand.
Around her neck a pendant with the holy symbol of Sarenrae is clearly visible.
~
"He ... hello, I am Se.. Setare .." Setare said with a quivering voice and a shy smile when you initially met.
Then she focused on the group of Pathfinders.
"Ehhh ... it is ... you know ... I’m ... ehh ... good that we are together. Nice meeting y.. you.” she said and then looked down to the ground.
~
Setare remains silent when they’re finally starting the mission.
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A full plate armored dwarf stands with arms crossed, and with a scowl on his face. Or perhaps he is smiling. Sometimes it is hard to tell with dwarfs and this is one of those times with the thick black beard and all. His violet eyes dart from one person to another as the group of adventures and fellow Pathfinder agents introduce themselves. A holy symbol of Torag hangs on a leather strap from his belt. A backpack with an axe and long spear tethered to it sits at his feet.
"I am glad to me you folks. I am Grunyak Dweomerhammer. I have not raised enough money to start my temple project yet so for the time being I am happy to stay a Pathfinder." He rubs his bald head with a metal gauntleted hand as if thinking. He then continues, "I have no use for boats. I am no sailor. I am a holy man of Torag. But it is always good to get evil things out of the hands of those who would use them for evil. I have no problem getting these things and putting them in a dark hole somewhere." "I pledge to help to the best of my ability to complete this task with you all." "I am not a pirate and have no love for those that kill and plunder. The man we must get out of jail, hopefully we can retain and turn over to other more diligent authorities."
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A grey furred ratfolk sits listening silently with his fingers steepled. A scarab made of a blue and white gem hangs from his neck.
"This is distrubing. It is said the disks were given to Dason for penning Serving your Hunger and that his power increased once he received the disks."
"It is good to meet all of you. I am Ikit, the Larimar Sage."
Bastard Chelish pirate? Tell me more of this person...I have my own reputation in the Shackles, mind that the bastard part refers to his relationship with Cheliax than a broader comment on the free brotherhood of the sea
"Caradoc, a former officer in the Chelish navy, became disgusted by the opulence of those in power. Caradoc plagued merchant ships, crippling the economy of the mighty city of Egorian, and became a folk hero for doing it.
Forced to flee into the Sodden Lands, he resorted to guerrilla raids on Chelish trade vessels until his eventual capture."
Venture-Captain Adril Hestram also shrugs slightly at that.
"While i agree that the man may stand a fairer trial in Andoran, over Cheliax, getting to the ship site is your primary concern. I doubt he'd be sentenced for committed piracy against their more oppressive neighbor."
Bartavious Vlade lets out a chuckle, but turns back serious.
"Unless you have some means of your own in that regard, i have arranged for a vessel to drop you off some distance north of the bastion."
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At the mission briefing, a rough and tumble half-orc sits quietly and listens to all VC Hestram and the patron Vlade have to say without making a sound. His black hood is pulled up over his head, obscuring most of his face. A curiosity hangs at his waist, a red mask, in fact a Mask from a Red Mantis Assassin. The greatsword on his back catches a bit of light, reflecting strangely on the walls around him. The expression on his face is unimpressed and pained, as if he really doesn't want to be there, as if the weight of the world pushes down upon him.
If asked for his name he offers I'm Unnvar. But offers little else.
---
On ship, he keeps to himself, but will exchange a few words with anyone who addresses him. For those that try to get to know him a bit, he's friendly enough, just fairly subdued and not terribly talkative.
Ehh ... do ... do you expect any da... danger or obstacles? Or o... others wanting the same?
Bartavious Vlade:
"Well you're going to have to get Caradoc out of a prison. Prisons have armed security. Beyond that, i hope you have fair weather, i could not say of anything else."
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[ooc]Sorry about the wrong picture above, Grunyak is not undead. Though, if I keep missing the picture, he might continue to look that way. Rookie mistake![ooc]
Grunyak, arms crossed, continues to expound on the virtues of boat travel over horses. "Well, at least boats don't try and bite you or step on your foot like a flea ridden horse. I have never had a dodge a ship trying to kick me. I say ships are preferrable to horses in every way."
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"Unless you have some means of your own in that regard, i have arranged for a vessel to drop you off some distance north of the bastion."
"Certainly, I have my warships awaiting orders nearby"
"Good question Unnvar, if they are Chels then they tend to make the choice for you. Prisons tend to have security, but generally to keep people in rather than keep people out. Still it does suggest we need to determine our approach to the place"
Vlade raises an eyebrow at Blackjack's proclaimed ownership of vessels.
Which is followed by positive chuckling.
"Well, well. A man with ambition, it seems.
Very well, that saves the vessel the trouble of sailing there."
"I can give you a piece of advice, though. Have but a single ship set sail, preferably the smaller of the lot. You'll want to arrive quietly and with little notice of your vessel, from the region and the bastion's sights. I'd say a mile or so, as a drop-off."
"I have no knowledge of their ways of communications over there, but if anything, the Chelish run a tight ship, pardon my pun."
The Voracious turns out to be a smooth sailing vessel, with an experienced crew. One wonders where Blackjack Jaques got it.
The pathfinders are, upon earlier suggestion, getting ashore a mile north of the bastion. The ship sails back towards an area less frequently sailed, as to avoid attention of any vessels of Her Majestrix's navy.
A crash of lightning banishes the memory of the earlier conversation with the venture captain and the benefactor, bringing chill winds and unrelenting rain. Up ahead, at the end of the stone causeway, the Chelish bastion stands resolute, hinting at calmer conditions within. Its walls 80 feet high, with a single watch post on its northeastern corner.
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As if one built for nights like this Unnvar doesn't worry about light, his orcish eyes can see better than most at time like this. Under his cloak, unseen in the gloom, his beastly nature reveals itself as his face elongates to resemble an owl.
He attempts to take the point and moves quietly along, leading the group his open for any dangers.
He pays little attention to his noisier allies behind, knowing he would likely get the jump on anyone he comes across and that's just the way he likes it.
Jaques also has his animal companion (Large sized Roc) - is there a useful-looking spot it could move to (like the top of the bastion)? Looks like weather conditions are 'Rain' by the environmental rules... shouldn't hurt flying
With the torrent of rain pouring down upon the land, whichever guards were up there, were rather taking shelter over properly scouting the area below.
With this advantage, the group approaches the northern wall of the bastion.
There is no entrance, but a quick scouting shows that the rocks along the water's edges, of the eastern wall, could be navigated with caution.
The entire team gets across the wet rocks to the south shore.
The southern side, where a few ships would be able to dock.
Groundlevel, where you are currently upon, is some 20 feet below the bastion's lowest level.
Along the ledge running up towards the entry of the level, a path runs three sets of stairs.
The pathfinders navigate their way up the path and stairs, arriving at the bastion's lower level. Extinguished braziers, a result of the weather, and some ballistae, set the scene for the potential of what this place could be in full order.
Up ahead to the northeast, a set of stairs ascends to the next level, but on this level is a closed door to the northwest.
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Unnvar's face contorts once more into a mouse-like visage which suddenly appears on his face. Lifting his head, he gives another quick smile to Ikit. Then points to the door to see if the other pathfinders are in agreement to enter here.
Unnvar moves to the door and checks it for traps before trying to enter.
In case she does not perceive anything special, she’ll open the door.
Just a pile of ashes remains of the adventurer who opens doors at random.
Setare is fortunate, in that no traps were on the door she opened just now.
Rusted bars line this hallway dividing four cells. Above each of the four pens, gentle rain sprays down through grated holes, wetting the earthen floor. A screech of metal rings from the northeast holding cell as its door swings on rusted hinges.
All of the holding cells are empty, as evidenced by their unlocked doors and lack of prisoners. The conditions in these cells are squalid at best and the entire level smells moldy, wet, and rotten.
Another door is at the end. It does not appear to be locked, nor trapped. The room beyond is, aside from some old blankets, empty.
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"Wait, you mean me. Yes I can do that." Grunyak scans the 4 cells with detct magic. Saying a quick prayer to Torag, he waves his hand over the area and waits to see if anything new glows.
He then moves to the next room and once others open the door he will repeat the detection there.
"What a depressing existance this place would be for a jail. They don't even keep the rain out."
Grunyak detects no magic as he goes over the room with his magic sensing. Nor does Setare find anything special in the northeastern room on the cells level.
Following that, the team quietly make their way up the stairs to the next level.
Unnvar gets up to the second level, into a room but large enough to hold 6 people, and it has but a single door.
Over the sound of rain and wind behind the door, is the sound of a voice with a tone of authority.