"Sounds like we're agreed then. I'll go a bit ahead but try not to get further than thirty feet or so away from the rest of you. That way at least there's a slim chance I'll see whatever it is before it notices us." Bronwyn prepares to move forward then frowns, considering. If I'm sticking closer to everyone...
Ya think I can come out again?
Maybe. Do you know how?
Not a damn clue.
"Give me just a minute." Bronwyn thinks back to the last time Edér had been in her mind. She'd been lost and confused and desperate for something, anything familiar. Now she's feeling a little more grounded but she can still recall the sensation. The way she'd focused.
It comes easier this time. Something shifts and Edér pops back into existence, a ghostly presence beside her. He looks down at himself. "Still weird as hell."
"At least it worked. Now this might be a waste of a spell, but even if we're sticking together I'd still rather be safe than sorry." Bronwyn chants a few syllables and disappears from sight. "Let's go find our clawed guy, hurt guy, and anyone else that might be around."
”I’ll tag along.” Straehan weaves a spell causing his eyes to glow purple. He glances around until he spots the invisible scout. Then he casts another spell and vanishes from sight before moving silently down the corridor.
4th Spells (5):
3rd Spells (7): x
2nd Spells (8): xx
1st Spells (8): x
Ki Pool (10):
Stunning Fist (5):
Blood Intensity (2):
Mnemonic Vest (1):
Dancing Lights (3):
Spell Tattoo (1): x (default: Charm Monster)
Effects:
Mage Armor = +4 AC for 9 hrs
See Invisibility = for 80 mins
Invisibility = for 8 mins
Rahlmaat grins as she trails behind the two scouts, saying nothing about how their invisibility did nothing to hide them from her.
Kiya follows behind Rahlmaat while Daisy flies up to the roof staying just ahead of the main group.
Daisy advances along the roof quickly flying from buttress to buttress trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible.
Vol concentrates and infuses his being with dark, fortifying energies.
Fort+13
Ref+11
Will+14
Unfortunately, the scenery is broken up by a grim sight: at the foot of the altar lies the body of a female human dressed in lavish robes, her golden hair stained red with blood and green eyes frozen in terror. An emaciated and half-rotten humanoid husk, its back to you, crouches over her and you notice glowing motes of light leaving her body and moving towards the creature. A faint black mist seems to curl around the horror and slowly twists towards the motes of light rising from the woman's corpse.
Whatever this being is, every fiber of your being is telling you that it is fundamentally WRONG. Its form is a sensorial void, playing tricks on your vision and seeming to flicker in and out of existence in the moments when your eyes can bear to look upon it.
Bronwyn quickly whispers what she sees to the rest of the group via the Message spell. "Hurt guy's dead but the undead abomination that killed her is still doing something to her. Stealing her soul maybe?" After Thaos that seemed perfectly plausible. "Even dead I think she might need rescuing."
While waiting for a response, (and the rest of the group to catch up), she whispers an incantation under her breath.
Straehan’s palms itch to act. He sketches a few plans in his head… the most amusing being a magical assault and then fleeing to get the creature to chase him into the arms of his companions. But that might appear overly hasty and eroding trust was a bad idea. So, he bides his time and studies the creature, trying to determine if it is (as he suspects) a being that is semi- or at least periodically corporeal undead.
4th Spells (5):
3rd Spells (7): x
2nd Spells (8): xx
1st Spells (8): x
Ki Pool (10):
Stunning Fist (5):
Blood Intensity (2):
Mnemonic Vest (1):
Dancing Lights (3):
Spell Tattoo (1): x (default: Charm Monster)
Effects:
Mage Armor = +4 AC for 9 hrs
See Invisibility = for 80 mins
Invisibility = for 8 mins
"Are we not all, in a sense, undead? And yet in this place we live," Rahlmaat says to the others, dropping her voice as they approach. "I know not if you asked, but the Widow told me of how those who die too often lose themselves. Perhaps we have found one such, and perhaps it hungers for the Aether we are now made of, of which she spoke?"
The currently-humanoid sphinx bares her teeth in a predatory smile. "A riddle for which I see one immediate way to get an answer. Perhaps a moment's preparation is in order?"
Kiya laughs at Rahlmaat's comment. Undead. If only you knew... If only any of them knew. She sighs. We're not in Geb any more.
Rahlmaat turns her smile to Kiya for the briefest of moments before turning back towards the door.
"While I love a good philosophical debate, and would enjoy one most other times, I believe we have more pressing matters." The mighty orc says, striding forward, unsheathing Slaughterfang. He directs his discerning gaze to their undead foe in an attempt to identify it.
Bronwyn takes a moment to catch her breath before relaying her findings. "Maybe we're all undead, but this creature's more undead than we are. It's strong too, definitely stronger than me alone but since I'm still conscious probably not stronger than all of us together."
"I'm going to get in range to attack. Good luck everyone." She moves forward another twenty feet or so until she's thirty feet away from the creature. Studying it carefully, she readies her bow so that as soon as it notices the others' presence she can strike.
"Before we attack, allow me to attempt something first." He says, and stride forward, Slaughterfang at the ready. He stops within about fifthteen feet or so.
"I am Volgroruth Bloodscream, leader of the Scourged Legion and warlord of Bane, god of tyranny. I have commanded scores of undead and undying, yet have never encountered your like before. Tell me, what manner of creature are you?"
Along the side of the corridor Straehan waits, silent and invisible, interested to see how Vol’s bold gambit plays out. He mentally sorts through a few spells that will hopefully wreck the undead creature’s day if he proves to be as unfriendly as he looks.
4th Spells (5):
3rd Spells (7): x
2nd Spells (8): xx
1st Spells (8): x
Ki Pool (10):
Stunning Fist (5):
Blood Intensity (2):
Mnemonic Vest (1):
Dancing Lights (3):
Spell Tattoo (1): x (default: Charm Monster)
Effects:
Mage Armor = +4 AC for 9 hrs
See Invisibility = for 80 mins
Invisibility = for 8 mins
As Volgroruth speaks, the creature notices the group's presence and turns its head to look at them. Eyes black as the void gaze at everyone and reflect no light whatsoever, only a dire hunger and malicious will.
It slowly stands to a height of almost eight feet and pivots to face the former warlord, making no noise whatsoever, and it is then that a particularly horrific detail comes into view: no jaw exists on the creature's face and where it should be is the start of a gaping vertical maw that travels halfway down the creature's torso, lined with sharklike teeth stained with ichor. It's arms terminate into hands made as much of black mist as desiccated flesh and drip with the blood. Irregular sections of it's form seem to flicker in and out of existence, as if struggling against dissolution.
A cold voice echoes from the sinister maw in response to Volgroruth, "The little... warlord... would ask questions of a... Hollowed, a devourer of... souls?" A dark chuckle escapes from the monster, "How very... curious. Instead of fearing for it's life and leaving us to our... meal, it seeks knowledge... understanding. It has... entertained us, so we shall not devour it's soul... just yet. Speak then... warrior of a dead god... we shall give you an audience."
As Volgroruth moves to reveal himself Kiya curses internally. I had hoped to be wrong when I pegged him for a dumb brute. To her surprise though, the "Hallowed" did not jump to violence at the sight of the living, instead, it spoke. An intelligent undead then. But if it is indeed a devourer of souls then we are still playing with fire. Though if it knows something of our gods... She is reminded of the presence of Urgathoa's holy symbol pressing against her skin.
Rahlmaat shifts back to her sphinx form and walks up behind Volgoruth. She examines the creature with a clinical eye, as if she's dissecting it with her gaze alone. She also spares a glance for the corpse it had been feeding from, wondering who its prey had been.
She notes its similarities to and differences from the Devourers known in the Prime Material, taking a guess that it may well be of a similar power. If so, it is... she has to remind herself of her diminished capabilities. A significant threat, though likely one this assembled group could handle. Perhaps not without a casualty, though.
She also notes the creature's use of Taldan. Having lived through long ages of Golarion herself, she tries to place its accent in the history of the planet.
Bronwyn remains invisible while Volgroruth approaches and starts talking to the creature. A 'Hollowed'? Is this what the Widow meant? She shivers. A creature whose soul has shattered beyond repair, one death away from oblivion. Now it feeds on the souls of others. Why? Is it instinctually trying to replenish what it had lost?
Edér walks past her with Rahlmaat and she resists the urge to pull him back into her mind. He'd be insulted at the implication that he couldn't take care of himself. He'll be fine. As long as she doesn't Hollow he's safe. Assuming of course the Widow had been telling the truth.
For now all she can do is wait.
The short sorcerer continues to listen, trying to fit the new pieces into the puzzle. He assumes that the multiple motes of light the creature was ingesting were the warrior’s ‘soul bits’. Or were those ‘incarnations’ that woman was supposed to have? Will she rise again or does a Soul-Eater eat all of your remaining incarnations in one go? It was a sobering possibility.
The fel orc looks down at the Hollowed, standing several feet taller than it, and grins "Yes, *little* undead, I seek knowledge. I have no need to fight you. You have done nothing wrong in my eyes, other than what I assume you need to do in order to survive." He looks around the room, and continues. "We are obviously new here, what can you tell us about this place? This realm beyond death, where those who have died may walk among the living once more."
Despite having the appearance of a withered corpse, you can make out corded muscle beneath it's skin. Not only that, but it moves with the mercurial, silent grace of a predator that has taken many lives with ease.
The horror's maw looks tailor made for devouring flesh- and potentially souls, if it's words are to be believed- in short order and the dark ichor dripping from it's sharklike teeth is viscous, although a glance isn't enough to convince you whether it is effluvium or something more dangerous like a toxin or caustic substance.
It's eyes are a dead black that reflect nothing, yet that piercing gaze clearly fell upon each of you mere moments ago.
The flickering portions of it's body seem to fade from solidity to a ghostly transparency in moments. Perhaps this quality is why the creature was nigh-impossible to see from a distance? Whatever the case, it's smoky claws seem particularly susceptible to this flickering and may allow the it's attacks to partially phase through flesh and armor.
The tendrils of faint black mist that surround the creature- and were seemingly reaching out to consume the motes of light that were coming off of the woman's corpse- faintly waver in the air, although the portions lower to the ground seem to bend towards the victim's body, as if hungry for more.
You turn your gaze to the corpse laying upon the stone floor behind the hollowed. She looks to have been a female human woman barely past her twentieth winter, with golden hair that seems to have recently been in a long braid before coming undone and emerald green eyes that now stare in lifeless horror. Her robes, luxurious and bearing intricate arcane sigils embroidered upon the hem, mark her as a mage of some kind. Further examination of her roles reveals several deep lacerations- some of which cut straight to the bone- and one more curious detail: there are certain areas where her robes are torn lightly and irregularly, yet blood has soaked into the fabric as deeply as those that were completely rent apart. Over her shoulders are draped a deep scarlet cloak whose golden pin bears a curious insignia.
As you digest the information taken in by your cursory examination of the situation, you can't help but notice the creature's words are an old dialect of Taldan from around the turn of Golarion's last millennium. This form of dialect saw a temporary resurgence among the nobility around the time of Stavian the First's coronation, so you can't be sure if the Hollowed is older than a millennium or just a few hundred years old, by Golarion's reckoning.
The Hollowed lets out a dry chuckle, "There are many things that can be said about Kisarta... and the Dominions that glimmer darkly beneath it's light. So many... tantalizing secrets, so many blasphemous truths... all beckoning so sweetly in the shadowed corners of this purgatory." The rasps that sit unnaturally in it's sentences seem to grow shorter as it speaks, "We thought ourselves a scholar... a seeker of truth who would devour all the knowledge of this world and we learned much in our time here. Yet it was we who were ultimately consumed... for Kisarta has a hunger all it's own that reflects what it sees like a mirror of deepest black. We would ask the little warlord and it's reticent companions... what it is they wish to learn from us, we who were once Ardian Adella? A single question each of the... delectable-smelling creatures may pose to us and have answered true. After that, we shall see whether they prove entertaining enough to grant reprieve... or whether we shall add a few more souls to our feast."
The darkest rumors about House Adella pertain to a dalliance between a daughter of the noble line and a member of Taldor's royal family. If the accounts are to be believed, it was this tryst and the birth of an illegitimate child that led to the house's downfall via a purge by assassin's following a secretive royal decree.
You called Volgroruth a "warrior of a dead god"... She paused deliberating over her question. What has come of the gods of our realms? Kiya watches intently for the hollowed one's response.
Rahlmaat doesn't recognize the name right off, though she's not sure if that's because of her currently-scrambled memories or because this Ardian Adella had not been anyone of consequence. At present she was willing to think it the first, since she still suspected that simply arriving at Kisarta required a certain level of metaphysical weight.
Her eyes gleam at the offer of a question answered, and the sphinx cocks her head to one side, considering. It was a fascinating riddle--how could she extract maximum information, preferably information that would be difficult to acquire from others? Hmmm... an open-ended question would be risky, but could yield the greatest results, for it would leave the scope of the answer up to the answerer.
Hmm... it was probably worth the risk. They were almost certainly going to be fighting soon anyway, so anything she could gain first was worthwhile.
"For one whose hunger for knowledge mirrors your own, how might they avoid being devoured themself?" Rahlmaat questions at last, starting to pace off to one side of Volgroruth. "Can you see now a way to avoid Kisarta's hunger, or does it claim all who seek its depths?"
She steals a glance at the chamber itself as she speaks, taking in its features and possible purposes.
The monstrosity turns to Kiya and replies in its raspy, stilted voice, "We say it is the warrior of a dead god... because that is precisely what it is. Bane was long dead... as were the rest of the Dark Three, when we still walked Golarion and studied the multiverses that lay beyond the River of Souls. The would-be tyrant fell to Torm during the time of troubles... a victim of pride and vainglory. Though many timelines exist... and events play out differently... gods are woven too deeply and share a similar fate in each. It is... inevitable."
It pauses for a moment before narrowing its eyes and speaking once more, "The fate of all things is death, dissolution... and nothing- no god, nor mortal- can escape that fate. In Kisarta... rent from time and space... all things have met their final ends, though they have yet to be born."
What can only be a cruel smirk plays out on the creature's terrible maw as it focuses it's gaze upon Kiya intently, "But its goddess was never alive in the first place, was she?"
Rahlmaat asks her questions next and the Hollowed ceases it's sadistic smirk, "Therein lies the conundrum, little sphinx... it doesn't; it can't. All those burning drives that exist in mortal and immortal hearts alike that lead them to ruin... are exacerbated in timeless Kisarta. When death is an afterthought and no end is in sight... what do those living under the Pale Sun do but follow those desires... though they may lead to ruin?"
It pauses for a moment before continuing, "If it would avoid succumbing to it's own ruinous hunger... the little sphinx should take care which well of knowledge it drinks from and how deeply, lest it imbibe a future of dust... and become as we have. But it is a slave to it's nature as we were... is it not? It will delve into secrets dark and deep... uncaring and unafraid of danger and die over and over again, until it's heart is no more than dust and sand. Kisarta is a mirror, little sphinx... and those who cannot see themselves clearly are doomed."
You get the sense of both introspection and bitterness as the creature answers Rahlmaat's question. Though it is a cruel, soul-devouring monster, it was very much once a person and resents its loss of humanity and the events that led to the state it is in.
"Ah, 'What can change the nature of a being?' That is one of the great riddles, which many have worn out lifetimes seeking to solve," Rahlmaat muses, a glint of what might actually be sympathy in her amber eyes.
"A pity we meet now," she adds. "I suspect that, had we encountered one another in what passes for life here, you would have been more interesting than most humanoids to speak with."
The comment about dead gods making him keenly aware of his slowly fading connection to Bane prompts Vol to ask "What can you tell me about the gods of Kisarta? Or what passes for them?"
Rahlmaat suppresses her annoyance at her comapanions' questions. She'd been hoping to learn more, but they're both wasting them on gods. Hadn't they realized yet how irrelevant gods were here? Admittedly outliving a major god had given her a certain level of disdain for them, but still, why think this being would know more about gods than they could learn from less scarce sources?
Bah. Well, maybe this question would at least draw out some details beyond what she'd gotten from the Widow.
The Hollowed looks once more at Volgroruth, "There are many things that the little warlord may consider 'gods'... but it would be foolish to place it's faith in any of them.
There are many shrines to divinities from across the infinite worlds within the city of Limbo... although no god's touch graces them. All those that held a divine mantle are long dead by Kisarta's reckoning and only vestiges of their existence remain. The little warlord should know this to be true, for it can feel the hollow left behind by it's patron... yes? All that's left in it's soul are mere scraps... gnawed bones left behind at a banquet of ashes.
There are the False Stars found in the Nameless Abyss... radiant shadows of gods cast by the divinities they once were. Foolish idealists have long tried to resurrect these flickering motes of divinity... few have succeeded and most find only the solace of Final Death as the reward for their misplaced faith.
Some cravens worship the Guardians who are both jailers and prisoners of the Dominions... whether out of simpering loyalty or a conniving thirst for power and influence. Gods the Guardians are not and the works of the faithful are ill-rewarded, although in Kisarta faith itself can serve to grant an... illusion of divinity.
Addled occultists fall into worshipping the Void itself... the primordial darkness enshrouding creation and serving as a boundary between realities. The fools gaze into the Void and fail to notice it's fathomless depths gazing back into them... watching as it's secrets drive them mad.
The Cult of Yla, offshoot of the Church of Dying Saints... holds the long-dead saint as a goddess worthy of worship. They are the most delusional of all... weaklings who serve the memory of a dead patron for naught but the illusion of goodwill and righteousness. The worst lies are always those we tell ourselves... and the illusion that good can exist is the most damning of them all.
The Black Circle, whose number includes the Widow, are probably the closest thing to the concept of living gods here on Kisarta, but it should not fool itself... they are greater than any god it has ever heard of, infinity bound within flesh. They care not for any worship or service it or any other could offer them, for what use do they have for either... when all of Kisarta bends to their will?
The little warlord could doubtless find others it could classify as divine, but they are meaningless in Kisarta: fallen demigods long since divested of power... fiendish princes and primal fey... sacred beasts and beings of great power from many worlds, among others."
Rahlmaat sighs. There were some interesting hints in there, but all in all nothing they couldn't have learned in a few weeks in Limbo, she suspects.
"Well, we've had our questions," she points out. "Is it time for the inevitable degeneration of this encounter into violence? Or are you not so much a slave of your nature as you hinted?"