About GorgoronGorgoron
Special Attacks: Spell Penetration Checks +9
pp
Summoner:
Racial Traits
Sorcerer Spells Known:
Summoner:
Summoner Spells Known:
-------------------- -------------------- Appearance Gorgoron is a striking figure; tall, gallant, and visually stunning. With burnished skin and hair that moves as though made of living fire, he is hard to mistake for anyone else. Even his eyes flicker, as though containing burning coals or embers. His voice is equally memorable, whether soft, as comforting as the dying embers of a fire, or booming, harsh as a roaring flame. He is as imposing as he is striking, his very baring bringing men up short, and his gaze capable of bringing doubt to the most jaded veteran.
Background Story:
Gorgo entered the chamber, an unconscious chill racing up his spine as he saw what finally lay before him. The chamber was laid out just as the ancient texts he had search for so hard had outlined. Octagonal, with six steps descending around the entire perimeter of the room, as though each step were were a lower pedestal, set within the floor, in the reverse of pedestals each set one upon the other, as you would see in more common mystical constructs, and as he had seen in each of the previous seven. Seven chambers, seven false hopes. Seven decoys for one true chamber. This chamber?
He stood now deep beneath the earth, how deep was impossible to say, though it felt as though miles of rock must stand over his head between him and open sky. What time of day it might be was also any guess, as it had been days since he had seen it. A screech sounded from the cavern passageway behind him, followed by a battlecry and a clang of steel across scales and bone. The sound brought him back from his internal revelry to the task at hand. He moved down the steps, between two of the eight octagonal pillars located in each of the eight corners of the room. At the bottom of the chamber, where an alter or dais should have been was instead a pit, eight sided, of course. In the stillness of the chamber, Gorgo's hair danced as he moved, each strand moving and snapping with a life of its own, casting the deep orange light of a soft ember glow. Just above his head floated a ring of light, like a golden circlet, doused and set aflame, casting fiery light about the chamber, and chasing away shadows like weightless spectres. Reaching the bottom, the lowest of the eight levels, save that of the pit itself, he drew up short, almost sensing something in front of himself. Despite himself he smiled. This was it! Frantically he waved to his faithful companion, standing until now in utter silence, under the weight of his burden. His clothes were singed with fire, and in places might have even smoked. This friend, this man or being, to whom loyalty was everything, his entire being, moved forward without hesitation, taking the steps to the bottom of the chamber as quickly as he could under the weight he carried. Fidelus stopped next to Gorgo, drawing a deep stiff breath, and also feeling the presence of what lay just before them. Another battlecry sounded through the chamber, but was cut tragically short, the sound of a hungry growl overwhelming and subsuming it, the clatter of armour and steel being lost in the sounds of the carnage that followed. The sound of feeding came next, but would not last. Fidelus turned to his friend and master, smiling. Though tears were in his eyes, they harboured no hint of regret. This was what they had come for; this was what they had fought for; what they had died for. Fidelus lowered the seemingly lifeless body of Gorion to the ground, allowing Gorgo time to catch the man's limp neck and ease his head the rest of the way down. What a man was he that each of these, his friends would pay such a price, willingly, joyfully, to repay the debt they felt they owed for the sacrifice made so long ago. Gorgo gazed on the sleeping face of his brother; such a man to inspire such love. Wet spots appeared on Gorion's face. It took Gorgo a moment to realize that the tears were his. The sounds of raw fury and hunger coming from the tunnel suddenly ceased, and in the silence that followed, the movement of something massive could be felt, moving, all around them, as if its steps could cause the very earth to shudder. Gorgo glanced up, meeting Fidelus' waiting gaze. Fidelus just stared, a satisfied smile upon his face, tears still in his eyes, and gave the slightest of nods; no words were needed. He pulled the rest of what would be needed from his satchel, and handed them to his master; those things that had come at such a dear price. A fortune had been spent to determine what would be needed here, and a fortune again spent to acquire or have crafted each of the tokens. The potions, the scroll, the vessel, and most importantly, the blade. Once they were in hand, Fidelus turned to go. He flexed his hands, animalistic claws extending from the tips of each. Thinking quickly and with a smile, Gorgo brought his will to a fine point within his mind, and then sent it forward with a whisper. All around the chamber elementals leaped to life, one at the base of each of the mystic pillars. Fire, Earth, Air, Water, Ice, Magma, Lightning, and Iron. Fidelus was the last. Flesh. The enegmatic creature that had served Gorgo for so long, never questioning, never disobeying, grinned a roguish smile at the fight that was about to follow. He tensed as though to move, but then thought better of it, turning back to his master and catching him in a tight embrace. When it was done, the friends exchanged one more nod, and then Fidelus turned and ran from the chamber, a feral battlecry sounding from his lips. The world swam as the elementals turned to follow him. Colours and lights moved, and the sounds of the many diverse creatures clattered as they moved forth into the passage. Gorgo was left alone. He looked down to the still form of his brother, still breathing, but silent. He was wrapped in a blanket, but otherwise undressed, as to facilitate the daily changing of linens required since this state had come upon him. Years now. How many? Six? About that, surely, though maybe it was seven, but not more than eight. Eight would be fitting, given the setting. Gorion was a shell of his former self. He had never been overly well built, but his visage had once been the equal of Gorgo, cut as they were from the same cloth, and how a mirror could not have reflected as clearly as the brothers had once resembled each other. That was changed now. No matter how well cared for, Gorion rarely saw sun and his skin had become sallow. His muscles had not moved of their own volition in all that time, and had shrunk away to nothing. His joints were now the largest part of each limb, and his ribs stood in stark contrast against his chest. He weighed little more than a child, though he had once stood a head taller than most human men. The sound of battle found and joined echoed down the hall, the roar of the beast calling back what he thought of the continued aggravation. Gorgo had not yet much time. He struggled to lift his brother upright before remembering the potion brought for just this purpose. He pulled the stopper free with his teeth, and downed the brew quickly and without ceremony, tossing the empty bottle back into the cavernous hall outside. In seconds he felt strong. Looking down, Gorgo could see his body grow, normally modest muscles growing and expanding until he was corded with thick, rippling power. He hefted his mirror-twin easily now. He held him upright with one hand while stripping himself of his garb, until he was again the skeletonic man's equal, save for the single ring upon the comatose man's finger. That ring, crafted in such haste, the only thing keeping alive a man who could no longer feed himself, or indeed care for himself in any way. A man who could once fell any opponent with magic force wrought of nothing but his own, pure will. Forcefeeding and broth might work for a time, but only this magic had any chance of keeping him alive as long as would be needed to find this solution; this very solution. Shivering with the cold of the deep earth, Gorgo pulled free the scroll and the blade. These in hand, he moved with his brother into the open space above the open pit in the center of the chamber. They did not fall. Instead they floated in the air, as Gorgo had known they would. He felt pangs of injury; distant twinges of injury through his bond to Fidelus, telling him that the loyal servant was suffering in his battle. Next he felt the strongest pull, as the strain on Fidelus' body became too great, and a need raced along their bond, demanding Gorgo lend his strength. With great effort, Gorgo pushed away the urge to give in, instead denying the urgent demand. Their was no resentment in the bond from Fidelus; he had not expected reprieve, and indeed could not have denied sending the instinctual request. However, there was sadness in the bond, and a tinge of regret, knowing that the two would never meet again in their current form. The roar from the beast echoed down the cavernous hall, and a shadow could be seen moving into view within it. Gorgo paid it no mind. Floating free into the space above a pit that had no discernable bottom, Gorgo looked on the peaceful face of his brother. This had to work; he had risked everything to reach this moment. The curse, the damnable curse that had left Gorion locked and imprisoned within his own body; that which had defied every attempt to cure it or circumvent its measures. This was it; had to be it. This would either be the solution, or the end of trying. Everything hinged on this. He did not mind risking his life for this, and perhaps his only regret was not knowing. If this was merely death for him, what would become of his brother? Would he be trapped forever; the curse continuing even into the afterlife? Time evaporating as the beast moved slowly down the hall towards them, Gorgo moved the priceless phoenix blade into position. To find out how such a blade might be made was trial enough, but to change the design to allow for two? Would it even work? Confidently, but hands trembling he held out the scroll, beyond Gorion's shoulder. The tip of one of the twin points of the pheonix's blades pressed against his skin, just above the heart. A twin trickle of blood ran down his brother's chest. In a booming, resonant voice, unheard by even his own ears so loud was the roaring and screeching of the beast. It was growing close, entering the chamber itself now; there was no more time. The last syllables of the incantation rang of his lips, and through the chamber. Nothing happened. The beast clambered down the oversized steps of the chamber, coming at last abreast with the lowest tier where the two men floated naked and defenseless before it. A glow appeared far below, seen by none of the three but Gorgo, who was the only one watching for it. Tears of relief strained from his eyes. The end. Nearly white hot fires, summoned from the living heart of Golarion, raced upwards in a rush. Just as they were to overtake the chamber, Gorgo embraced his brother, the Pheonix blade disappearing within their twin breasts. The blank scroll drifted away on the blast of hot air that preceded the flames by the barest of instants, Gorgo's last sight was of it reduced to ash in a mere moment. The beast's jaws split, the slavering maw filled with jagged, numerous, and implausibly massive teeth. The whole world became white.
"Who are we? Who am I?"
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Party Loot:
2 Masterwork Handaxes = 306 gp
1 Pair of Silver Earrings = 150 gp Wooden Music Box = 90 gp 2 Cure Light Wound Pots Assign these properly 12 Suits of Studded Leather Armor = 150 gp 5 Suits of Leather Armor = 25 gp 6 Horses = 225 gp Assuming they are light, non-combat trained horses; recommend keeping as pack horses for now 4 Suits of Hide Armor = 30 gp 6 Short Swords = 30 gp 6 Longswords = 45 gp 6 Longbows = 225 gp 14 Daggers = 14 gp 4 Tents = 20 gp Wizard's Book Klaus needs to know what spells are in this book, if any, because now they belong to him! 75gp of Gear in a Backpack The below items are things we would load into a cart and try to wheel into the Stag Lord's Hideout if we want to pretend to be bandits on entry, and would then ideally retail them later 100 Gold Pieces of Assorted Goods 60 Rations 2 Months Worth of Food 50 Lbs of Firewood 3 Crates of Furs and Hides = 150 gp Polished Wooden Case of Greenish Herbal Liquor (8 Bottles, 20gp each) = 160 gp Items found in Stag Lord's Hideout
NPC Equipment
From Goblin:
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