Umble the psychopomp's page

“Well then, yes, I suppose we are prepared. The ritual is quite simple, but I must ask you not to pay too close attention, as we’re not technically empowered to perform this bit of extrajurisdictational transposition. “Like most things involving psychopomps, the Dead Roads rely on a complex bureaucracy. They’re maintained by Barzahk the Passage to allow us to come and go, but creatures of... of non-psychopompological nature need authorization to prevent abuse. Specially appointed bureaucrats control way stations along the routes, and can offer a stamp on your body to pass freely. Without a stamp of passage, beings tend to, oh... ‘slide off’ the Dead Roads and land back here—hopefully. We never did locate more than a few fingers from that one poor waywardarian Keleshite who found his way in. “The route to Roslar’s Coffer passes three way stations: the Palace of Teeth, a manor called Nine-Eaves, and Salighara’s Scriptorium. You’ll need to stop at all three to make your pilgrimage back to Lastwall. Each way station master will probably charge for passage. Given your pauparian circumstances, I assume they’ll trade services. I hope.” Thoot points in the direction of the Dead Roads.

"Mictena’s domain of Deathbower moves about and can be approached only when Mictena wills it. You say she believes she is correcting a mistake and must properly kill you. Take her on her word."

“Ah... oh... is she here already? How distressing. Mictena is, in vulgar terms, our superior She’s quite the potent psychopomp, and this corner of the Boneyard is within her jurisdiction. I would recommend that, like us, you avoid attracting her attentions.”

After reporting your success Umble explains that psychopomps must often come and go from the Material Plane. Unlike many outsiders, psychopomps can’t inherently travel between planes; instead, they take a series of extraplanar pathways called the Dead Roads, maintained by the psychopomp usher Barzahk the Passage. Umble and Thoot know which Dead Roads connect the Boneyard to Lastwall on Golarion, allowing you to return to Roslar’s Coffer. The Dead Roads resemble a raised roadway approximately 15–20 feet across. The exact appearance of the Dead Roads varies according to who sees them and that individual’s own understanding of the word “road,” but, in general, the Dead Roads are unremarkable, winding, and devoid of signs. To either side of the road, the ground slopes away steeply into silvery mist. Creatures that leave the road and enter the mist find themselves wandering the back hills of the Boneyard. Only the occasional way station—buildings varying widely in appearance and acting as tent pegs holding the extraplanar network in place—break up the gloomy monotony.

Umble motions Thoot to move away from the group a small distance. As they give you room you hear Umble speaking to Thoot, but you cannot make it out.

"Your hearts have something lodged inside them. Something that’s brought you here, but kept you from doing so in the orthodoxiumous fashion. I cannot help but ruminate: what has caused your strange condition. Have we a deal?”

The tall creature with the wings and jackal-skull head softly raps Umble’s head, then points to the entrance to a nearby valley. “Ah, Thoot, now that is a brilliant idea!” exclaims the gregarious bird. “You are from Roslar’s Coffer, and they are from Roslar’s Coffer. Perhaps you can help us? If so, we can provide you with some very helpful information about wending you in a homewardly direction. Some awful tragedy befell this Roslar’s Coffer. Everyone there died quite suddenly overnight. Well, everyone but you, apparently, but in any case, the sum of the populatory has deposited here, dead or otherwise. Their souls are milling about in that valley over there. As happens on such calamitous occasions, the inhabitants aren’t quite ready to admit that they’ve died. Despite their obvious amortality. Now, Thoot and I, we are not psychopomps in the greatest esteem. One might say we’re on our last chances around here. But because these souls have arrived in our territory, it’s our duty to make them accept their mortality and move them along in a soulwardly way. But they took one look at us, called us ‘monsters,’ and accosted us with homicidal intent. They wouldn’t allow any discussionment. Now, eventually, more powerful psychopomps will be along to settle this all out, but Thoot and I will be in a terrible amount of trouble in light of this failing. Here is our propositionality: if you convince these souls they’ve expired—as, until the recent event of their passing that you somehow avoided, you were among their kind—we can tell you about the Dead Roads: the roads from the Boneyard to mortal worlds, that is. Have we a deal?”

The bird looks at Agnimitra "Benefaction. Affirmative to the benefaction. Yes, yes if you may perhaps endow us to your desideratiums." It looks at Niu. "The Prime Material is your origination. So, So, tell us more of this provincialness prior to Pharasma's realm."

“Oh, isn’t this a meeting of obvious fortuitousness! Here you are, and here we are. My name is Umble, and my silent companion here is named Thoot. We mean you no harm, despite the strange harmaments you seem to have already suffered. Yes, yes, this is the land of the dead, and no, you aren’t dead yourselves. You seem to be something of a special case—you seem a touch too vitalitinous for this place.” The bird peers closely, cocking her head to one side. “Ah, there is a wonderment! Your hearts have something lodged inside them. Something that’s brought you here, but kept you from doing so in the orthodoxiumous fashion. I cannot help but ruminate: what has caused your strange condition?”