|
It has been weeks since the siege of Nerosyan, when demonic hordes from the Abyss surged forth from the region known as the Worldwound to assault the capital city of the crusader nation of Mendev. Brave Pathfinders stood side-by-side with the city’s defenders, managing to push back the attackers and ensure Nerosyan did not fall to the demons.
Venture-Captain Jorsal, the Society’s principle representative in Nerosyan, took charge of the Pathfinder defenders and since the siege has deployed numerous groups on missions throughout the region. Having left Nerosyan to survey the devastation of Kenabres, which fell to the demonic offensive—Jorsal ensured some of his agents remained behind in Nerosyan to guard the Starrise Spire, the local lodge. Earlier this morning a messenger arrived with a sealed letter from Jorsal, signaling that more work remains to be done.
The earth elemental's gem like eyes glisten and a smile appears on his stony face. He waves and greets his fellow pathfinders in his rocky language.
|
A sylph in nondescript clothes enters the room and takes a seat. Other than a slight blue tinge to his skin, he looks like an average human. Too average, perhaps - when you look away, you have a hard time keeping an image of him in your head, he is so plain. He does have a dagger with a fine-looking hilt at his hip, but with a flutter of clothes, it is hidden again, and he loses his one identifying feature.
"I am Devaan," he says simply, holding out a hand to each of you.
Devaan reads the missive, then takes a moment to recall what he can about Thurl. "Think this guy's spent too much time studying demons." the sylph states plainly before explaining to the others.
|
Standing and quietly staring out a window in the corner of the room, is an unearthly-looking man: His skin and long, diaphanous hair are ungodly-pale, nothing but a wash of white, grey, and silvery shades; his tall and leanly-muscular body stands atop deer-like legs ending in strong but slender cloven hooves; and face - long and thin with more than a hint of southern Tien features - are set with black-on-grey, cephalopod-like eyes that one feels inexplicably frightened to meet.
In addition to a pouchful of chakra and a fearsome-looking sword at his hip, in his hand he holds what is simply one of the finest-looking quarterstaves you've ever seen; he wears common leather lamellar armor over clothing that is well-kept, but practical, plain, and rather spare, with the exceptions of his wayfinder (one of the jade models), a mysterious ring of black metal...and a striking leather belt that appears to have been custom-made.
"Demons," He echoes in a distracted, sepulchral monotone, still looking out the window. "What better place to face them, in any sense?"
"I have heard of this place; it is my honor to be called here at last. May we all meet whatever fate we earn."
A human figure, emmitting some visibly stagnant air, stands in another corner of the room. Seeing the others saying their names, she follows, "I am Wither... I know it's unpleasant to be around me but... it may be better to get used to this before something happens. I can't help, sorry." She retreated back into her gloom again as she finishes.
RawkNRole speaks a few words in their shared language to his mistress to determine why she is visibly upset. He nods and keeps his place at her side.
|
|
Thurl’s Lodge is a modest structure that lies in the Egelsee district of Nerosyan. A single front door provides ingress, and any other doors or windows that might have existed long ago have been long since removed during Thurl’s renovations. A blacksmith and a local brewery flank the lodge.
As you arrive, four other agents are loading the last of the ground floor library’s books into a cart for transport back to Starrise Spire and later analysis. They are aware of the rumors surrounding Thurl and his lodge. They mention that the door leading into the basement bore powerful abjuration magic until recently, but that it faded as though a spell’s duration had expired a little more than a day ago. "Jorsal was planning for you to explore the basement in his absence and he wanted you to have necessary tools at your disposal. This chest contains his gift to you." other agent says as he hands you a small box, which contains a potion of cure moderate wounds, a scroll of perceive cues, an elixir of vision, antitoxin and a small pouch containing a handful of dust of appearance.
The heavy iron door that leads into the basement is undecorated and unlocked, but the other agents report that until recently it practically glowed with Abyssal runes.
|
Arxoias frowns when she walks pass the blight druid, but she understands that personal hygiene could be too much to ask for from field agents that does not practice arcane magic , and also not to judge a person by their smells.
She takes out a wand and seek help from the wizard.
"Lots of vision aids here. If Jorsal think they're 'Necessary', I think we will be up against some steathy opponents. Let's distribute the supplies. The healing potion can goes to the most vulnerable one, the vision aid will benefit the trap spotters the most, and I think the familiar should hold on to the dust so that it can use it on concealed enemy while we're busy fighting."
|
|
A human figure, emmitting some visibly stagnant air, stands in another corner of the room. Seeing the others saying their names, she follows, "I am Wither... I know it's unpleasant to be around me but... it may be better to get used to this before something happens. I can't help, sorry." She retreated back into her gloom again as she finishes.
Hearing this, the strange man at the window actually bothers to turn his head...and staff still in hand, clop softly over to she who is called Wither.
"Only by the grace of harsh winds can a tree grow strong," He states softly.
"...And all that separates life from death is loneliness, suffering...and my whirling staff."
I will not meta-game the save beforehand.
"Lots of vision aids here. If Jorsal think they're 'Necessary', I think we will be up against some steathy opponents. Let's distribute the supplies. The healing potion can goes to the most vulnerable one, the vision aid will benefit the trap spotters the most, and I think the familiar should hold on to the dust so that it can use it on concealed enemy while we're busy fighting."
"I think I am good at finding things, so... if you don't mind..." Wither murmurs in her corner, pointing at the elixir of vision.
|
|
After distributing supplies, you enter the basement. A long set of dusty wooden stairs leads down into an equally untidy archive of tall shelves populated by crates, bins, and tomes. A handful of folios lay scattered about the room, concentrated most heavily near a large table that stands only about two feet tall.
RawkNRole stands side by side with his mistress. He looks around and speaks to Rogarch in their shared language.
Tremorsense 60 feet is active and will pinpoint any hidden creature sharing a surface with RawkNRole.
|
|
"It seems that someone has a yen for demonic anatomy. It is a bit disturbing actually."
Ekanta momentarily looks down at his own lower-half.
"What is the ancient saying? 'There is no accounting for taste'?"He seems a bit lost in thought, as if distracted by memories....
...nevertheless, every lobe in his frightful eyes seems to be working in its own direction.
Wither nods at Rogarch's remark.
|
|
Wither and RawkNRole through his tremorsense notice a weird creature hiding behind shelves. It looks like a combination of fiend and human woman, its skin is a patchwork of cream, red, and purple skin with asymmetrical horns and mismatched legs. "WHO are you and WHAT do you do here?" she shrieks with anger and suffering in her voice
Wither and Ekanti also spot a secret door identical in design to the door from which you entered. It is on east side of the room.
|
|
She does not detect as evil.
"I too am a Pathfinder, Valais Durant. My current form is result of a foul experiment by Thurl, who PRETENDS TO BE a Venture-Captain." she takes a deep breath and continues “The traitor Thurl built a hidden workplace past this room, and that’s where he performed his most vile experiments. If the Society is to understand just how FOOLISH he is, someone must uncover his terrible schemes. That’s where you come in, Pathfinders. There is a hidden door against that wall.” She waves a crimson claw toward the reading table. “Beyond you shall find his lair. ANY QUESTIONS?” her voice sounds mostly normal, but alters randomly to a booming, inhuman roar
|
|
“Beyond this door is a large area that Thurl used as some kind of dumping ground. A small shrine conceals a secret passage to a second level below, but that shouldn’t be a problem to get past with me around. I'm not in a shape to fight, the horrors of this dungeon have taken their TOLL, but I could guide you.” to Mika's question she answers "Thank you, but you can't do much. Your job is to search this place and my needs come after that." suddenly her voice changes to soft hissing "My greatesst desire is to sstab Thurl in the back, then skin him alivee."
As the others are in conversation with Valais Durant, Wither approaches the secret door to ensure there are no traps.
|
|
“Indeed they are demonic grafts he forced on me. Thurl turned on me when he realized the Decemvirate had me investigating his operation. When one of his PATHETIC MINIONS turned me in, he surprised me and knocked me unconscious. I awoke in one of the chambers below, and made my way here. Sadly, I don’t know much of what was happening in the lower levels, as I escaped just after I woke up. I’ve waited here since,” she says “expecting the Decemvirate to send me some fresh minionss. And here I wait, in the shadowss…” her voice changes mid-sentence to hissing
Wither doesn't find any traps.
RawkNRole gets the gist of the conversation from their body language combined with his empathic link with Rogarch. He shadow boxes in solidarity with his mistress' position.
Seeing the party is ready, Wither opens the door with her shield raised.
|
|
"Your ready to explore his maze? Good, let's go in." she says and opens the door.
This chamber stretches ahead and to either side as far as the eye can see. Wall segments stretch from floor to ceiling, as much resembling overgrown stalactites as architectural features, and chunks of shattered masonry and other rubble litter the otherwise even floor. Long since expired torches rest in sconces affixed intermittently to the walls. Valais hesitates crossing the lines of rubble. "Going near the rubble feels somehow wrong to me. Also I feel like I'm being watched in this place." she shudders
RawkNRole feels his deep connection to the earth as they walk through the enormous chamber. His tremorsense stretching out for even the slightest movement.
|
|
Rogarch is only one who notices a transparent horn protruding out of a wall before it sinks back into the surface.
Near the center of the maze stands a raised altar made of ivoryinlaid wood, its virtually pristine condition a sharp contrast to the shattered walls around it. At the center of the altar rests a statue of two figures locked in combat: a brass bull and an iron dwarf that gripes the animal by a horn from over its shoulder while holding a warhammer aloft. Delicately incised words encircle the statue’s base, reading, “In my name is the strength of my history, my tradition, and my people. Speak your name into my ear, and I shall judge your worth.”