|
Artemis is early. Deliberately so.
He steps into the Venture-Captain's office and takes a moment to read the room — the desk, the shelves, the walls — not nervously, just professionally. Old habit, now refined into something useful.
He selects a spot where he can see both the desk and the door and settles in to wait. The coat does its best to keep him occupied — scrolls bristling from a half-dozen pockets, five wands tucked into various folds — but there is only so much inventory a man can mentally review before the quiet of an empty office starts to feel very heavy.
His chin dips once. Twice.
The scorpion whip coiled at his belt rises and falls with slow, even breathing. The shortbow across his back leans with him as he lists slightly to one side.
By the time anyone else arrives, Artemis is fast asleep in his chair, arms folded across his chest, brown hair falling forward just slightly over his brow.
|
”WAIT! “
You hear a small voice from outside rush in...followed by a young gnome. He is casually dressed, in clothes that do not seem to fit, and maybe have been slept in more than once too often.
His hair is badly in need of a comb, but he seems oblivious to his appearance while his eyes dart back and forth from his strange winged green cat, to the sky and back. His mind is definitely not focused on the here and now, as he smiles caught in his own thoughts.
”Whiskers, I think we found it…and we may not even be late this time. “
Seeing the others
”Oh so terribly sorry to interrupt. I’m Wembly. I hope we didn’t miss anything important.“
|
Taarik is a massive Ifrit. His hair is blazing and burning so that he almost warms his surroundings.
He has a greatsword and a bardiche on his back, a light flail at his side and a heavy shield on his back.
He wears a fullplate that looks like it has seen battle recently.
Resting on top of his chest, an amulet showing the holy symbol of Irori is visible.
He himself does not understand much about that kind of knowledge thing but Irori represents this part of life and he hopes to learn at some point.
"I am Taariik. Pleasure meeting you all!” he says and scratches his head which looks a little dumb.
|
|
A flaxen-haired Ulfen shieldmaiden strides in purposefully, her strong, determined jaw slightly softened by a kindly smile; she seems highly reminiscent of the Valkyries of legend. Her silvery full-plate is adorned with small golden cherubs; close inspection reveals that the angelic wings on the tiny decorations are all razor-sharp. A holy symbol on a silver chain proclaims her as a follower of Ragathiel.
Outside, a snow-white warhorse with (almost imperceptible) angelic runes in its coat lazily wanders around the outside of the tavern.
Seeing that she's not the first to arrive, she looks around, clearly appraising what she can already ascertain are her fellow Pathfinders.
"Irori. Excellent. Plenty of weapons and solid armour, coupled with faith and a healthy sense of competition and athletic prowess. What else do we have? A learned scholar," she looks at Artemis and looks him over with eyes that patiently seek answers, "And a gnome - judging by the cat and the appearance, also interested in the arcane or occult. This will all do quite nicely"
"My horse is outside, can't miss him. Big white charger, answers to Ragnar, and be careful as he has a big 'personality'- and he bites"
|
|
Asleep for several hours, Artemis is jolted awake by the entrance of the gnome.
He rubs his eyes slowly, then blinks.
"Huh? What?... Where?..."
A beat. The room comes back to him.
"Oh. Greetings. The name's Artemis." He straightens in his chair, smoothing the front of his scroll-stuffed coat with what little dignity remains. "I was sound asleep for some time. You haven't missed a thing, Wembly. We are the first ones here."
Then the door opens again — a massive ifrit filling the frame, followed by a flaxen-haired Ulfen shieldmaiden who moves with the easy confidence of someone accustomed to being the most dangerous person in the room.
When she remarks on him being a learned scholar, a wry grin crosses his face.
"Scholar is generous," he says, settling back with the air of a man perfectly comfortable being underestimated. "I prefer world traveler with a passion for knowledge. And the occasional terrible joke."
He glances around the office.
"The Venture-Captain keeps interesting hours."
|
|
”Oh wow it is so wonderful to meet you all. Some of you do not seem to be from around here. Well, I mean Whiskers is not from around here either…well not around this office but like around meaning from this plane…or dimension. “
Turning to Taariik in awe ”Some people say my hair is wild. But is your hair like …well not meaning to be rude… but is that like really on fire or actually fire? Does it melt combs? I don’t really use them…although people say I should. But then there was this one time…ouch“ as the green cat pokes the gnome with a claw.
”Whiskers! What? “
|
|
Artemis turns his gaze to the massive ifrit, taking in the greatsword, the bardiche, the flail, the shield, and the full plate with the measured look of a man doing quiet arithmetic.
"Taariik." He gives a respectful nod, then gestures at the considerable arsenal with a mild wave of his hand. "Are you a paladin or a traveling armory? Asking for professional reasons."
He glances around the assembled group — the disheveled gnome and his large, winged cat, the Valkyrie in razor-cherub plate, the walking fortress of an ifrit — and settles back with quiet satisfaction.
"I will say this much." The corner of his mouth lifts. "Whatever the Venture-Captain has in mind, I feel considerably better about it than I did before I got here."
He folds his arms across his scroll-stuffed coat and glances toward the door.
"Assuming the Venture-Captain eventually shows up."
|
|
Taariik looks between the gathered Pathfinders with a broad smile, clearly pleased despite not entirely following every part of the conversation.
”You all seem very experienced. I am glad Irori guided me toward capable companions.”
At Wembly’s question, he instinctively pats at the blazing hair rising from his head.
”Ah… yes, ehh … I don’t know … I think is real fire … but i don’t know. It does melt combs. I stopped trying after the third one.”
He nods solemnly toward the green winged cat afterward.
”Your companion looks wise. And dangerous. Usually those two things belong together.”
Artemis’ comment about the weapons earns a deep laugh from the towering ifrit.
”Both my friend. Sometimes evil survives the first weapon, so I bring several more in case righteousness requires flexibility.”
His fiery eyes drift toward Svetochka and he inclines his head respectfully at the mention of Irori.
”Competition and discipline are worthy things. Though I admit I mostly understand … only some of the parts of self-perfection.”
After a moment he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly.
”The spirit guides say wisdom comes from listening. So for now I listen first… tell me about you. What are your strengths? If you want to share.”
|
|
Another ifrit slips into the room, this one whip thin. Glints of silvery chain can be seen under his clothes and a pair of small swords rest on his hips. When we get where we're going I generally recommend staying behind me and stepping where I step. You wouldn't want to end up polymorphed into two helpless little animals after all. I am Zartan and I might not know as much as the other fellow, but I know a little about a lot, including where they like to hide traps in old ruins.
|
Rachikan has been discovered! exclaims Venture-Captain Adril Hestram as he peers up from a collection of ragged maps, dusty tomes, and tarnished coins from behind a massive desk within the Grand Lodge in the heart of Absalom. His excitement quickly fades and Adril gestures toward an elderly man sitting by the hearth. May I introduce a former Pathfinder and respected friend, Benton Grone. This gentleman has suffered a great loss to bring a grand discovery to us and he has agreed to trade all rights to his claim of locating lost Rachikan in return for locating his missing nephew. Go with him and make haste; he has agreed to guide you to the Pillars of Anferita in Cheliax.
Seven days at sea end at a view of the Pillars of Anferita bursting from the Chelaxian coastline, waves crashing against their rocky flanks. The central pillar’s curves, flora, and shape are perfectly represented on the discolored Jistka coins Adril sent along with the expedition. As sailors from the hired vessel row toward the central column, a second rowboat in tow, Benton Grone breaks his silence.
It’s got to be here; the coin says so. Look at the picture on the back: A temple-foundry high atop this pillar awaits to be discovered. If old Rachikan of the Jistka Imperium is inside, then my nephew must reside there as well. Please hurry—find my poor Eldis.
As the sailors row away from the pillars, taking Benton Grone with them but leaving behind a rowboat to return to the waiting ship, the waves slowly begin to push higher up the rocky harbor, signaling the beginnings of high tide. An unguarded, well-maintained rope stretches up the cliff, beckoning to the plateau high above.
Roll Knowledge History or Bardic Knowledge followed by Know Local or Diplomacy to Gather Information.
|
|
Taariik stares up at the towering pillar, and the flames of his hair whip harder in the sea wind as his heavy armor creaks softly.
”If this place truly belonged to the Jistka Imperium, then it has endured many centuries. Irori teaches that knowledge survives longer than kingdoms.”
He grips the thick rope with one massive hand and glances back toward the others with a determined expression.
”We will hopefully find Eldis Grone … if he still draws breath. And if danger waits above, then let it test us openly.”
|
|
”Wow this all sounds so awesome. I can hardly wait to see it. Or find this nephew. I hope he is ok. We will find him, rest assured. Because that’s what we do. Well not the only thing we do. I mean there are other things the Society likes us to do…,Like maps and journals and pillars and well you get the idea. History is important….and architecture. This Jikista… I mean Jistka empire well we need to document their history or who will know about them.?“
|
|
So far, from the History:
Historians suggest a stern society called the Jistka Imperium helped advance Golarion during the Age of Anguish. At their height, they spanned parts of Cheliax,
Jistka was known for their golemworks artificers who created many mathematical wonders.
((Any advance on 23?))
Knowledge Local:
A member of the Pathfinder society spent several ancient coins from the Jistka Imperium recently in a town called Macini in southwestern Cheliax along the Inner Sea coast. He claimed to have found lost treasure and has since disappeared.
Recently, large purchases of mining equipment have been shipped from several cities in Cheliax to the Pillars of Anferita.
A beautiful woman made a large purchase of slaves from a desert slaver near the Arch of Aroden—she indicated they were heading to a dig site in the Pillars of Anferita.
A feared and respected man named Haliduris Karn is the man behind the recent slave and mining equipment purchases and it’s rumored that the Aspis Consortium funds his every move.
((That's all you can get))
|
|
Artemis stands at the rail of the top deck, brown eyes fixed on the Pillars of Anferita as they rise slowly from the horizon. He turns the knowledge over in his mind quietly — Jistka coins, mining equipment, slaves, a missing Pathfinder.
"Someone is excavating something significant out there." He says it almost to himself, then glances sideways at his companions. "And they weren't subtle about the slave purchases either. Apparently beauty and poor judgment travel together."
His jaw tightens slightly at the last detail.
"Aspis Consortium funding Karn's operation." The words carry the quiet weight of old contempt. "Of course they are."
He turns back to the Pillars, the scorpion whip swaying at his belt with the rhythm of the ship.
"We find our missing Pathfinder before the Consortium finds whatever he found."
"Simple enough."
|
|
Those crazy Aspis! Always causing trouble for us. Seems our paths cross more than should be possible. But then there are alot of possibilities. Maybe there is an alternative universe where we all great fiends and allies? But sadly that does not seem to be the case here. I hope they have not done anything bad to the nephew. Sounds like a decent enough guy, eh Whiskers? Are you ready?
Wembly climbs aboard the winged cat. Some of you may detect a slight eyeroll by the green feline.
|
|
The base of the central pillar is a haven for gulls, seals, and other wildlife that chirp and bark in the distance. Salty air assaults the senses, burning the nostrils on each deep inhalation. The wet surface of the pillar offers many nooks and crannies creating a dimpled appearance suitable for climbing up the pillar’s edge. High above, the top of the pillar can be seen cresting to what must be a great plateau. Somewhere up above, a rope, in excellent condition, is anchored and runs down the cliff to the rocks below.
The pillar is 100ft tall. DC for climb checks is 5. Everyone roll Perceptions.
|
|
Artemis shields his eyes against the glare of the sun, squinting up at the sheer face of the pillar looming a hundred feet above him. He lets out a slow breath through his nose, taking in the full measure of the climb ahead.
"Well." He grabs the rope with both hands, testing his grip. "Let's get going, shall we?"
He sets his boots against the dimpled stone and starts climbing.
|
|
Artemis panics as the missiles tear through the air toward the climbing Pathfinders, a few finding Wembly on his flying cat with a sickening thud.
He tries to recall what these creatures are:
And calls out to his teammates what he knows about them.
Artemis presses himself against the rope, jaw set, eyes locked upward.
"Oh, hell no!" He lunges for the next handhold, muscles burning, the heat of the arrows still cutting the air around him. "Everyone keep climbing! We are not dying on this rope!"
|
|
Wembly was trying to stay even with Claudia or the highest in the party. But likely to change if he is the lone target.
Wembly will cast haste on the climbers if he can catch at least 4 of them. Otherwise cast glitterdust on the closest archer.
Whiskers, I do not like those arrows, lets see if we can get around the others side of this pillar.
|
|
Artemis catches movement from the corner of his eye — Taariik producing a scroll, and then suddenly a magnificent pair of swan wings erupting from the ifrit's back.
His eyes go wide.
He glances instinctively at the scrolls bristling from his own pockets. Releasing one hand from the rope, he pats himself down with the practiced efficiency of a person taking inventory of his own failures.
A scroll of flying. Why in the name of the Decemvirate did I never think of that after all this time?