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To Meredian:
"Should you seek lich-dom, the doors are open. I can provide the necessary rituals you seek, though the components are expensive."
To Anaxian: "I should hope not! Hiesnar was always the runt of this council; hungry and driven, but lacking the natural talent and vision of the rest of us. There was little he contributed to Escarra other than prestige, and I suspect jealousy may be one of the motives behind his betrayal."
Though Sir John and Jiator occasionally chime in on the conversation, the Red Queen is mostly silent; until, eventually, she answers a few of the party's proposals. "We cannot simply open the council to those with 'the power to take it.' I set out, all those millennia ago, to create a city that could endure. Which means that leadership must remain restricted to those of talent, not power; and that we must have a council of rulers who have demonstrated their mastery over death, and eagerness to return should they be unexpectedly shoved into the afterlife." "But that said—there is a power vacuum stretching across the entire continent to the north. Ending Shaorhaz and his legions was a work of exceptional craftsmanship and intelligence; there are crusader orders that will refer to it as the "Miracle of Greengrave" for centuries to come, though I suspect in the retelling, certain priests will maintain that Iomedae herself opened up a holy volcano under the demon's keep. Restoring what we have of this city is a great service indeed; and most of you have shown a certain resilience to dying." "So, with that in mind: I, and the other elder members will follow me on this, am offering membership in this city—or perhaps this nation's—governing council to every member of your group. In Meredian's case, our priestess would remain a provisional councilor, with the full title contingent on solving her mortality problem, though Diamanda has a great deal of knowledge on Drow physiology and assures me there are several quick and painless ways to accomplish this." "As decisions of the council, including admitting new members, have historically been decided by simple majority vote, this would give your group—I suppose I can no longer call you mercenary agents—control of our decisions from here on forward. I believe you are ready for such a responsibility, and hope that you do not choose to ruin what we rebuild here."
Meredian: The Crimson Stranger works quickly; despite the fact that, like all powerful magic, opening a Gate to the abyss disrupts somewhat the form to which you are accustomed. Boldened, perhaps, by your consistent chain of successes, she approaches the task quickly, and for the first time you catch a glimpse of her broken form without her retreating. Transmutation and illusion spells melt away, and her human form is momentarily reduced to what appears to be a skeleton coated in a thick layer of lead, before she steps out of her body to draw a few magic circles. To Meridian’s trained senses, Crimson appears to be nothing more than a faint astral projection (like herself, though perhaps more translucent) as she casts the spell, before quickly muttering a Possession and then merging back with the skeleton, which warps and swells through a variety of forms before settling again on “human.”
Huh, that might actually work. Except that teleport requires knowledge of a destination.
Jiator and Sir John confirm that they received a similar message to Anaxian. Apparently the spell was generally targeted. The two liches have heard little of Shraen—a power that has apparently arisen during the millennia of their imprisonment—and leave such negotiations up to the party, who are a bit more worldly in such things. The Crimson Stranger, in her role as ambivalent Grand Diplomat, declines to offer much opinion. But she does inform that she approached them once, several years ago; their path to undeath was driven by sacrifices to Urgathoa, not study of the Whispering Way, and they were then uninterested in any contact or alliance.
Red Lady's aside: "Yes," the Stranger replies. "I can grant spells. It's a curious thing, and one that requires next to no effort on my part. You may not enjoy the domains, however. I personally don't care much for worship, but if you think it will have a stabilizing effect, that could be useful."
"Well," the Stranger concludes, "We'll have to discuss this further. For now, I have been traveling, and will need some time to recover."
"In that case—" the Stranger thinks, "Well, it's a unique feat. I have met other dracoliches who did not share your proclivities. Perhaps, for the purposes of this Council, we should then consider all of you to be the same creature."
"Hmm." The Stranger ponders. "Young dragon, ask again when you have lived a lifetime of experiences that are your own, not a single month. But the elder dragon here may be ready."
"Angels are not simply created," replies the Crimson Lady. "Nor are Azata. You were both petitioners once, mortals full of ideals and passions so strong that, despite how misguided they may have been, they turned you into creatures of afterlife. Neither of you fear old age, which should be sufficient for the future; but to have defeated death, it would be sufficient to learn who you once were, when you were mortal." And at Drisquar's second comment, she laughs, a surprisingly human sound. "I have no need of a personal assassin. But an impersonal assassin could be quite helpful. This city may very well need someone to root out the foreign spies and demonic mischief that once plagued it, and your skills would be ideal for the task." "And Illia-: should you need to contact one of my former agents, I would be happy to provide the necessary Discern Location spell."
It's been over a month, but finally the Crimson Stranger reappears at the gates of Escarra. Over the next few hours, she calls the party—and Jiator, and Sir John—to a meeting in the newly constructed town hall. First, she apologizes for such a long absence; she is happy to see Jiator returned alongside his impressive retinue of bards, but did not expect the party to accomplish this so quickly. "I spent the past month searching for allies," she explains, "In unexpected places. We never investigated the Rain of Stars in our search for immortality, Jiator—and that was an oversight. Strange things have crawled out of the Silver Mount in the last millennium, and Numeria is a nation transformed from what you may remember. Not much of the magic of the Androffans has made its way underground, let alone to Garund, and I may have found a new and secret weapon for this city. The Technic League called him 'a perfect instrument of death,' when I tortured the agents who refused to treat with me; he is an ancient wizard of Old Androffa, who has found a path beyond death through artistry entirely different than our own, and all he seeks in exchange for his secrets is a chance to conduct his research away from the nuisances of surface life. And perhaps a few assistants, and some rare metals, and aid in testing a few weapons, but these are things Escarra can provide." And then she sits up straight, and imposing; for the first time, you see her pale skin briefly flicker, and for a second the Crimson Stranger is a translucent skeleton wearing too many layers of see-through flesh. And then she is whole again, and speaks with a different voice, at a frequency that seems to resonate the very room you sit in, shaking dust from ancient carvings of stylized rainbows and skulls. "So, now begins the first meeting of the Council of Colors in over twenty-five hundred years. Red, black, and violet preside, hosting petitioners; the meeting will proceed in Undercommon for the convenience of our audience." The Stranger returns to her normal voice, though it is still more resonant than before. "This city has been restored—and I offer you all the chance to be a part of its leadership and growth, should you so choose. Escarra was built as a refuge, a palace of freedom where the world's truly powerful and uninhibited could study magic and war uninhibited by the petty concerns of the living. A place where I could contemplate eternity, Sir John could perfect his reanimations, and Jiator could see his artistic vision realized properly. Others, too, who came later. This hall was once the seat of the Council of Colors, Escarra's ruling body, and it is only its layer upon layer of protection magics that allowed any remnant of it and my libraries to survive at all." "But the Council is small. For those of you who wish to join the three of us as equals, I will explain its charter. One, Escarra has no true rulers—our titles are those we craft, and earn, for ourselves—though in the past, I have served as the city's governor, overseeing its administration. I do not wish to take on that role again." And she pauses, listening to a telepathic message, before continuing. "Though Jiator, apparently, has a new-found interest in leadership. Hmm. Such an appointment, as most major decisions in this city, would need to be approved by a simple Council majority." "Point two. Council members are inducted—and can be expelled—by a simple majority vote of existing members. However, we require three things of all such petitioners, to be argued in writing, speech, or some other form. First, members of the Council must have found a way to defeat death, in a permanent fashion. Second, members must offer a unique or exceptional talent to the success or survival of this city. Third, members of the Council must be master of their own soul, and their own destiny." "Should you wish to remain in this city, build your own residence, and even take on a role of local leadership, there is no requirement that any of you join the Council of Colors. Should you wish to do so, however, Jiator, John and I will be happy to hear such petitions now, or over the next few weeks." Anaxian: At some point during the meeting, Jiator begins speaking to you telepathically; he explains, overlapping with the other conversation, that the building you sit in was once used to create new liches, and he'd be happy to show you how to put the finishing touches on your own transformation once this room is not being used for another purpose.
As the party crafts items, catches up on any correspondence they might be carrying out, and Anaxian digs skeleton cages, the Crimson Stranger prepares a modified teleport spell that will send an additional target in the Caster's place. She points out to Anaxian that the spell will only be powerful enough to carry a single large creature, and he should pick his favorite skeleton; if the rest remain behind, they might prove useful should more Erinyes attack the ruins. Currently, your home base is nothing more than the large foundation stones and wall slabs of a ruined city, with some strategically buried treasure and bones, though presumably a Drow caravan laden with steel and lumber will arrive in 3-4 weeks' time. Malefeasance is nowhere to be found, having been apparently whisked back to hell by a Phistophilus devil after the battle of Lavosha; Iranaset is presumably still murdering her way through an entire forest of vegepygmies for the fun of it. The spell, according to scries, should take you to an isolated stone beach in the Sodden Lands, about one days' walk Northeast of Port Peril, where you should be able to find a pirate shaman specializing in shipwrecks. Port Peril is a rather rowdy city, and Illia-'s usual disguise is the only one likely to stick out; the corsairs of the Shackles have little love for the Chelish Navy and by extension all devilkind, while Inevitables are also not known for their fondness towards piracy. Most of the local Elves belong to savage and remote Mwangi tribes, with Drisquar and Meredian likely passing as standard Elves to the average townsperson; Sir John's armor is likely to pass as a daring fashion statement. Anaxian might turn heads in his large dragon form, but could probably pass for an unusual pet. Once in Port Peril, it should cost only around 100 gp to buy a coracle and a scroll of Call Animal; this should let the party row out to sea far enough to catch and murder a mid-sized whale, an encounter simple enough that I don't think it needs rolling.
"I've found the names and locations of several pirate shamans who should be able to teach you a spell for locating shipwrecks. The Shackles are also a good place to acquire a ship, should you need one for some reason."
"The Mantis Blade is a holy weapon of the Mantis God." The Stranger Shrugs. "I don't know how it found its way to a Drow city, but it's likely been there for centuries. If you change its shape, it ceases to function as a symbol—a cleric of Achaekek would no longer be able to use it in the casting of spells, and a trained Mantis Assassin might not be able to use its special powers. Other than that, I see no issue." I live to kill... whispers a small, raspy voice in Illia-'s right ear, the pitch of soft gravel rubbing against itself. If you cannot comprehend my use, pass me off to another, or reforge me into something deadlier. And the Red Queen waves her hand, and the sword falls silent. "The tunnels North of here will lead you to Eastern Garund. Carried by Drisquar, you could reach the Shackles in a single day and night. Alternately, I think I've set the right runes to teleport you to any major city in Golarion, though you might have to spend a bit of time studying maps to find the path back."
"If Jiator is still around, you can ask him." The Stranger shrugs. "I was not present when he made the decision, but perhaps our Purple Lich wanted to build a kingdom that could be seen, not hidden." "It may, indeed, be wise to search him out first. While I cannot scry on Jiator, I've tracked down several skilled Shamans in the Shackles who could track a downed ship, given a description and the right incentive. At the very least, finding Jiator's wreck would give information on what may have happened to him."
The Crimson Stranger looks different than before; there is both exhaustion and fierceness in her eyes, and if you stare at her long enough, she seems to acquire a slight translucence. With the help of Sir John, she has a story to tell you. The Tale of Adrexa the Red, Thrice-Cursed Queen of Escarra:
Once, when the whispering way was young, a powerful but inexperienced lich named Adrexa dared to openly mock Pharasma, attacking her greatest church and transforming it into a gruesome carnival of undeath. For this, the lich was cursed with eternal life—her armies of undead crumbled to dust around her, as did any undead she approached, the victims of an unending wave of mild positive energy. Alone in her eternity, she gradually grew introspective, and sought students—powerful spellcasters who were or could become liches of their own, with strong enough wills to resist the deadly energy she now exuded.
Your mission, should you choose to accept it: the Council of Colors: Lady Adrexa, the Red Queen, was once the source of Escarra’s power, both literal and metaphorical; in addition to providing a font of divine power for its clerics, she led its research teams and filled its libraries, uncovering new and revolutionary magic over centuries of study. She is willing to talk little of the prison Aroden built for her, but insists that breaching it would require far more powerful and numerous spell-casters than are currently in her service. Unfortunately, gathering her old students has proven difficult, as most of the city’s powerful residents learned millennia ago to keep themselves constantly protected from divination spells. Sir John, the Black Knight, was Escarra’s tactician and champion, leading its armies on the field of the battle as its greatest warrior and general. He was also the Queen’s first student, and the last to leave the city of Escarra. When the city was, at the very last, betrayed and sacked by a Drow alliance, the Black Knight alone was left standing in the ruins and swore revenge, raising an army of mindless undead from the corpses around him. Two Drow cities fell to his wrath, burned into nothing and added to his armies, but the third, Lavosha, was protected by its Demon Lord patron, and Sir John was trapped in a prison far below the city. This defeat, at least, broke many of his protection spells, and thus the returned Crimson Stranger was able to detect him with her magic, hoping that he would remember what happened to the others. While he has returned only at a fraction of his former power, Escarra was always led by the fastest learners, and she hopes that sending him back into battle will restore him to the fighter he once was. Brother Kharnas, the Gray Bishop, was Escarra’s connection to the divine. Unlike many of the city’s necromancers, his magic healed the living and dead alike; he taught the city balance, counseling the other liches to find a greater purpose instead of evil for its own sake. Kharnas maintained some relations on the Outer Planes, and was the city’s expert in calling and binding outsiders, enthralling some of Escarra’s greatest angelic and demonic guards and soldiers. After the Red Queen fell, he was the first to leave the city, swearing vengeance on Aroden and his church; taking his bound army, he left for the surface, vowing to conquer the city of Absalom and either gain the Starstone’s power or destroy it. While Absalom stands, the Crimson Stranger can feel some remnant of Kharnas’s power still active on the Material plane, and may be able to revive him if it is returned.
Master Jiator, the Violet Architect, was the vision behind Escarra’s towers and walls, expanding the city through his magic and will. Formerly an architect to the last of the Runelords, Jiator was the only member of the Council older than the Queen herself. His magic, powered by song and rune, was as much craftsmanship as study, but with his vision and power fortresses and public works were raised up overnight from the sturdy bedrock of Sekamina. Jiator was the second to leave Escarra, taking with him a large portion of the city’s wealth and objects of art. On a great barge of stone and elephant parts, he planned to sail across the ocean, founding his own empire on Golarion’s primitive Western continent. It appears that this never occurred, but like Kharnas, some remnant of Jiator appears to remain on the Material plane; and the Crimson Stranger would like to see this returned, as well as the vast treasury he took with him.
Mother Diamanda, the Blue Gardener, brought the magic of nature to Escarra, creating the fungi and creatures that fed its living residents without need for sunlight. Her works were combinations of existing creatures or completely new ones, dispersed throughout the city in menageries and gardens, as she provided the city with food, water, and wood, connecting it to the ecosystem of the surrounding caves. After the other members of the Council began to disperse, she found less and less in common with the city, frequently traveling to the surface world, and eventually departing for good through the Shadow Caverns to join the Druids of the Uskwood. In her wake, some of her creations left or escaped from the city as well, contributing over millennia to the strange biodiversity of the Darklands. The Crimson Stranger cannot feel any remnant of her presence, but would like to know what became of the Blue Gardener, and whether she may have allied with any of the city’s extraplanar enemies.
Lord Zeshar, the Golden Smith, oversaw production of Escarra’s items of permanent enchantment. Through ritual and study, he discovered ways to create and modify artifacts now long forgotten, and wove magic into the city’s buildings so durable that some of its remnants still stand. With the other Council members gone, he sought new alliances across the Darklands, and set off to the Duergar Empire of Hagegraf to discuss trade—and never returned. The Crimson Stranger cannot sense any remnant of his power, but the Duergar are an extremely meticulous race, and it seems more likely that they have found a way to find and restrain his phylactery than find and destroy it.
And finally Great Hiesnar, the Green Dragon, who was once Adrexa’s familiar before becoming a powerful dracolich in his own right. The Green Dragon was the craftiest member of the Council, serving as its spymaster until, at the very end, he sold out the city and the passwords to its defenses to an alliance of Drow cities. As Escarra was overrun, Hiesnar enslaved much of its remaining populace, carrying off the city’s remaining treasures through a portal to the Plane of Shadow. He is crafty, and ancient, and has likely continued growing his power over the last few millennia, as evinced by the agents he seems to have sent after you.
Illia-:
Illia- hops into existence right on top of the ruined city. It doesn’t take long to find the Crimson Stranger standing at the edge of a clearing that might have once been a city square. She looks concerned that only one member of her team has returned, but her expression changes… imperceptibly, but somehow… when she realizes that the skull has been returned. Eagerly, almost impatiently, the Crimson Stranger steps forward and takes the bag from Illia-’s hands, immediately pulling out the inlaid skull. "Stand back!" she yells, and when the Erinyes does so, the Stranger says a few mumbled words in a long-dead tongue. A moment later, there is a blinding flash and a deafening crack of thunder. Illia-, with DC 20 Will save:
When the smoke clears, Illia- is on the ground—and at the other end of the clearing, there are two figures talking. One is the Crimson Stranger, visibly exhausted, somehow, and leaning against a crumbling pillar for support. The other stands nearly seven feet tall, clad in an armor-shaped fortress of black iron. As Illia- stands up, the others turn to look at her… and now the armored knight is simply a tall young man, his hair black and wild, wearing a simple squire’s surcoat with a coat of arms depicting rabbits and swords. "Halloo!" he shouts, walking over while the Stranger remains motionless. The man holds out a gloved hand. "We’ve already met, though I’m afraid I wasn’t paying much attention. The years grow rough, sometimes." And then, after a brief pause. "I’m… oh, let’s say, Sir Jon. Her majesty’s first and most avid student, back in the days when the gods still meddled with… ah, but she tells me that’s changed." From somewhere, he pulls out a bit of parchment and begins running over it with a finger, ink springing onto the page from the touch of a gloved fingertip. ”Listen," he adds, taking Illia- aside, "Your employer will need some time alone—I don’t think she wants to be seen or talked to right now. Take this back to your friends, and keep yourselves occupied for another week or two." The note reads, My apologies if things got too exciting. So you consider taking the city of Lavosha—charming! It seems the city’s defenses are not what they once were, thanks to a paranoid queen and the loss of an ancient demonic patron. Should you run into trouble, send me word—I could a use distraction while Scarlet recovers. -The Black Illia-, with Will save failed: The force of the spell is too great, and Illia- is knocked to the ground, blinded and deafened, until she passes out a few minutes later from mental exhaustion. When Illia- comes to, the clearing is empty, although a spot of ground nearby has been turned into rough, blackened volcanic glass. She is clutching a note in her hand. The note reads, My apologies if things got too exciting. So you consider taking the city of Lavosha—charming! It seems the city’s defenses are not what they once were, thanks to a paranoid queen and the loss of an ancient demonic patron. Should you run into trouble, send me word—I could a distraction while Scarlet recovers. -The Black
"The patron of Lavosha's ruling house is Andirifkhu, the demon lord of traps and torture—or was, once upon a time. I believe the demon has long since chosen a new, more impressive house to favor in a far-off city, but a lack of many other nobles in the settlement of Lavosha has so far allowed Lady Mencara to hold power, despite the general paranoid murders of most of her relatives." "I care little whether Lavosha stands or falls—it is a backwater place, prone to introspection and stagnation of the least useful kind. By the time you leave the palace, I suspect there may be little of value left in the entire place." "Try not to leave with a drow army at your back, though; they can be persistent trackers and hold grudges for millennia."
The Crimson Stranger has returned to the ruins, once again. This time, she wears what appears to be a small crown forged from cold iron. ”Let’s get down to business,” she says. ”The matter with the High Priest was a small but urgent task that needed to be dealt with, and it was good to see that you had no trouble with it. But it’s not the job I had in mind when I gathered you all.” ”That task,” she continues, ”Is one that you should feel free to spend months on, and you may need to. You may wish to spend time crafting or buying things before you depart, and that is fine.” "To put it simply, there are several objects and people I need gathered. One or two may reside on the surface world, but I suspect that the rest have been scattered somewhere within the depths of the Darklands.” And, finally, the task at hand. “ The first, I have located. It is a skull, possibly decorated with metal or gemstones. You will, without a doubt, know it when you see it.” "The skull has found its way into the hands of a collector of such things, by the name of Lady Mencara, the petty ruler of a petty drow city called Lavosha. It's not one of the major drow settlements that you'll find on a basic map. Her realm is little more than a single well-defended fortress town with a few outlying villages and farms full of serfs and thralls. With the right cover story, you could probably walk right into the town unmolested, maybe even do a bit of shopping or gambling." “Eventually, you’ll want to find your way to the palace. Lady Mencara is fond of hedge mazes, menageries, and dragons, but her greatest passion is the dungeons beneath her palace. These are, I suspect, warded against teleportation and the like. Mencara's dungeon is a prison, torture chamber, menagerie, underground garden, and on its lowest levels a vault for her impressive collection of magical relics.” “Feel free to loot the place blind, and inflict as much harm on the princess as you like. But there will probably be guards and wards stationed throughout his palace and dungeon, and it might be best to not let on to them that you’re planning on robbing him, unless you have a way to keep the guards from following you—we are talking about an actual drow army here, albeit a small one.” “I can teach you a simple cantrip that will tell you the general direction to the skull when it’s nearby. When you find it, IT IS IMPERATIVE that you do not touch it. Do not allow the skull to come into direct contact with any magic items or the skin of any creature, living or undead.” “Should an unforeseen circumstance cause the skull to become… agitated in some way, just shout the phrase (indecipherable) at it loudly until it stops, and you should survive.”
Linguistics (DC 25):
The "safe-word" phrase the Crimson Stranger has given you contains a word that appears to mean "patience" and a phrase that sounds like a name, "Queen Adrexa." If it is a name, it is not one that you are likely to have heard. “If you have any questions, feel free to ask them; and feel free to make any preparations you need to before you depart.” She also hands you a map of the Darklands between here and the city, which I will try to draw soon.
The Crimson Stranger hands Anaxis a small box, and whispers something to him. For Anaxian only (Perception DC 30 to overhear, or DC 20 if trained in Read Lips):
“There is a ritual you seek, to complete your transformation. The proper ritual requires five spells, and your master knew but the first when he died. This box contains the text of the second spell, and the gems and scrolls you will need to complete it.”
She pauses, and for second her face seems to show a brief glimmer of concern. ”Be careful, if you choose to walk down that path. It is harder for your kind, and I have seen good friends lose themselves to the addictive madness of switching bodies.”
*** From a pocket in her robes, the Crimson Stranger draws a strange creature. It appears to be a mechanical scarab, twice the size of her hand, but its claws end it tiny tools that glow with arcane tracery. The concept of the creature is one that seems familiar, however. It is some sort of clockwork crafter’s automaton. It scuttles over to Shimsil, and clacks its claws attentively. Clockwork crafter (description):
This creature functions similarly to a clockwork familiar, but with the feats Cooperative Crafting and Craft Magic Arms & Armor. As it is completely mechanical, it can work for 24 hours a day, anyone it aids in crafting can craft at 4x the normal rate and gains a +2 bonus to associated skill checks. It also possesses the ability to break down magic items into their components. This should let the party “sell” unwanted items to “buy” crafting materials for similar items without having to go search around for them in a city somewhere. It comes pre-charged with the necessary materials to perform approximately 5,000 gp in weapon upgrades.
*** The Stranger has a shield for Illia-. It is a strange, aerodynamic shape. ”I believe this should suit your fighting style well." +2 Mithral Shield, Quickdraw (description):
This +2 Mithral light shield can be drawn or stowed as a swift action, or as a free action with the quick draw feat. *** The Crimson Stranger turns to Malefeasance’s imp Kodo, and kneels down, as if to whisper something in his ear.
As she places her hand on his shoulder, he goes rigid, eyes wide with terror. Knowledge arcana DC 20, or Heal DC 15:
The imp appears to be affected by a paralyzing touch attack, as the lich’s ability. And then she steps back, and speaks to Kodo. ”Tell your master,” she says softly, ”My agents have ended the threat, and this is the first part of the reward I am claiming.” Kodo twitches, nods, and vanishes. (He’ll be back in a day or so) And finally, she turns to Malefeasant, and places her hand on the back of his armor, which begins to glow in a strange, fiery rune. Armor rune effects:
The rune can be covered, or glamered away, but it is otherwise always visible, and it gives off a faint red light. Mal’s armor gains the Expeditious quality. (+10 to speed, 3x/day, as a swift action) Malefeasance also feels a strange disconnect from his source of power, and may now prepare and cast spells regardless of his alignment or alignment-related actions.
Linguistics (DC 15):
The rune is in an ancient language you do not understand, but it appears similar to several ancient runes for “scholar." *** To Iranaset, the Crimson Stranger hands a ring, inset with a large pearl. ”This may require a bit of cooperation with others,” she says, ”But it should also let you kill things quite a bit more effectively.” Ring of Imbuing, Lesser (custom item):
This ring can store one level 2 spell or two level one spells, which can be prepared by any spellcaster and then cast by the wearer. If a character stores spells in the ring during spell preparation, those spells do not consume a spell preparation slot. This effect may be used as part of a Magus’s Spellstrike or Spell Combat ability.
*** Drisquar, TSG, and Delyliath each get a bag of diamonds worth 5,000 gp. More creative rewards may come later.
The Crimson Stranger steps out of the shadows of an archway. "Excellent work," she says, smiling. "And excellent time. I hear the city's still reeling, though." "As promised, here is your reward."
The Crimson Stranger asks for the priest's soul, and as she touches the gem, it vanishes. "I hope your reward will be of aid to in future endeavors," she says. "I have business to attend to now, but I will return in several days, with a new, more valuable task, and I can answer any questions you may have then." And, before she vanishes, "I'll just need to do something about that nosy elf—but I don't think his companions are too happy with him right now."
The Crimson Stranger shakes her head. "Ah... perhaps I was not clear enough." She waves her and, summoning forth a ball of light, which she sends off into the distance where it disappears with a rumbling sound. Anyone with low-light vision and a decent perception score—which I believe is about half the group—should be able to see (and report to the others) that the Stranger's spell toppled a small rock formation several hundred feet away, revealing what looks to be a narrow staircase carved into the cave's wall. "And now, I must be going," she says. "Try not to disappoint me. I'll meet you here when the task is finished, hopefully soon." And then the Crimson Stranger vanishes. She makes no gestures, and speaks no incantations. There is no puff of smoke, whoosh of air, or slow fade away—she has just ceased to exist in this present location.
The Crimson Stranger has not yet spoken to Iranaset, but responds to this point. "Sarenrae is a goddess of patience, compassion, and redemption. More than any other surface god you may be familiar with, her priests and paladins are likely to treat strangers and travelers kindly, regardless of their piety."
The Stranger grins, properly this time, at the Summoner’s comments. ”Thank you, shadow, for pointing out the root of the problem.” She twitches her fingers, and the Summoner begins to experience an uncomfortable stretching sensation—it is not painful, but it is not similar to anything else, either. The shadow stretches, distorts, and begins to glow, until it has taken the translucent form of a wiry half-elf in long, priestly robes, sitting in quiet meditation. She holds the ghost in this form for several seconds, and then he snaps back to his normal form. ”And his face, as well. Navid Duryan wears no disguises, uses no false names, but he is nevertheless a master of nondetection. I know his name, his looks, his location, and little else—but that is still far more than the others who might seek him have been able to find." As she continues speaking, there seems to be a hint of regret in her voice. ”There is little else I can do without leaving the Darklands, which at present would not be possible.” And then, after a few seconds of thinking, she adds an afterthought. ”But I can tell you what else I know about the city. It has been many years since I laid eyes on Solku, and the Lambent Citadel is not familiar to me. The city walls, however, are quite old, and unlikely to have changed. There are four gates, the main one facing East, and the walls are now most likely manned day and night by paladins of the Dawnflower, in expectation of a large attack from the Gnolls of the surrounding mountains.” "There are, at most, four or five thousand residents within those walls, but the times have turned violent, and the city guard likely numbers in the hundreds, with several dozen traveling paladins among their number.” ”And that is all the tactical knowledge I have to offer. I hope it is enough, and I hope you understand why I have no better instructions to give.”
"Yes, Malefeasance, that would be fine. But if you do that, bring me his soul if you can." Turning to Delyliath, "I don't think that would be possible. I would strongly prefer to see him made an example of." And, to Illia, smiling slightly, "You could try, Illia, but I doubt he would be interested. The course of action he follows may be harmful to both the god he claims to serve and to the darker gods as well. This is no ordinary priest of the Dawnflower, and I'm fairly certain he could best any of you in a one-on-one fight, which is why you may need to work together, if you can even reach him to begin with."
Unless you have met her in person before, the Crimson Stranger is not as tall as you pictured, or as old, or as strong. Her features are pretty but plain; she wears travelers’ robes the color of drying blood, trimmed with traces of silver. As soon as she speaks, she has your complete attention, and her voice is far louder than you would expect. "There are few left in the Darklands who know who I am. That is not important at the moment. For now, I need champions—and you are the ones who have answered my call. I thank you for that." ”Some of you are probably curious why I called you here, so I will be brief. There are things I would hire you to do, and for which I would pay well. Important things. This first task is by no means the most difficult, or dangerous, but it may prove a good test of your ingenuity and ability to work together.” ”These ruins sit near a spiraling tunnel, remembered by few. With a little rubble cleared, you will find easy passage to the surface world, on the edge of a small nation called Katapesh. There is a town called Solku to the North-East of the tunnels’s entrance, three days’ journey through gnoll-infested mountains.” She waves her fingers in a short gesture, and a map falls to the ground in front of her. It depicts the location of the tunnel entrance, the town of Solku, several mountain patrol forts and one large gnoll camp. ”Central to the town of Solku is the Lambent Citadel, which these days serves as little more than a barracks and training ground for paladins of Sarenrae. And currently, the Citadel is host to Navid Duryan, a traveling High Priest of the Dawnflower. He has begun meddling in places that he should not, and needs to be killed as soon as possible.” She pauses for emphasis here. ”And I mean really, properly killed. Burn the body, or bring me his soul in a soul gem, something to keep him from just being Resurrected.” ”It might not be easy—I do not recommend simply walking into town in broad daylight and fighting your way through the entire defense force. Without a bit of magic to disguise your appearance and hide your alignment, the town’s large corps of paladins will single you out quickly. I can answer a few questions, one from each of you, perhaps, and then I must take my leave. Good luck, and swift travels.” It is, by far, the most you have ever heard her speak. |
