Wren continues to defend the name of gnomes everywhere.
”...so, I love gnomes. It’s not like they are halflings, after all.” Wren sips more of her elven wine.
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Bronin's head swivels from insulted bar patron back to Wren. Like a man stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Oh Wren, I wasn't meaning YOU were Gnome Racist - I meant the foppish dandy to my left. I mean...
Bronin gets a bit exasperated. Hemming and breathing deeply as Wren starts her story about Underdark Harlots (a B Movie title if there ever was one).
But, ... Hmmhhh.... but.
Well Yeah,Fearless Halflings can be psychotic at times (thanks for the set up Wren! ZING!).
Then the Big Game Hunter arrives on the scene and it's a good thing. If anyone were to have asked Bronin, A Copper Piece for his thoughts....
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Elena continues to hang back slightly, trying to remain innocuous and remain away from the group as they continue to hurl insults to nearly every short race on Golarian. She listens intently though as she doesn't nearly have the worldly knowledge as this pair.
Halflings are psychotic? I just thought they were brave.
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As Bronin begins babbling about his own intrepid adventures, the Count is immediately transfixed. It's clear that he's not exactly thrilled to be a member of this club and he sticks out like a sore thumb. Or would if Wren
wasn't drunk.
While Bronin talks a pained-looking alcolyte makes his way over. "Ahem... sirs and madams. May I please remind you along with the rest of the public that any... ah, misconceptions about the past of the Esoteric Order of the Palatine eye remain just that. Gnomes have been permitted within our order for the past twenty years and gnomehating is strictly forbidden within our halls. Also whatever that weird bird lady just said about a gnomelet also sounds forbidden so don't say that either."
But regardless of Wren becoming the most interesting thing to happen to a club dedicated to interesting things, the Count is still interested in what Bronin has to say. Once he's done spinning tales of high adventure, he responds to Whiskeyjack's slightly clumsy inquiries.
"Oh you're interested in the Way? You'll want in the Quarterfax Archives. Bah I wish I could live your life. I need to belong to this bloody club to keep my own house in order, but I'm long since retired. Anyways, if you want in the archives you'll want to talk to... ah, either Abraun Chalest who curates the archives. Or Edjureus Modd who is master of the Order here. Although Modd is a miserable bastard who will take one look at you rough types and want you out of here. He's hard to please."
He takes a large gulp of wine, completely ignoring the alcolytes desperately trying to shut Wren up. "Now as for a true beast to slay, my greatest kill was a bulette. Huge burrowing bastards, covered in armor! Needless to say I had my hounds with me..."
"Great! Then why we be sittin' here? There's ale an' whiskey awaitin' so le's be off t' speak wit' th' curator-person! Where is this Raunchy Chest person?"
Know (Nature)
”A bulette? A bulette you say?” Wren continues to babble, but now having a different topic.
”I think I’ve had bulette noodle soup, I think,” Wren is getting more tipsy which makes her more talkative whether or not people want to listen. ”Bulette noodle soup is a...blahblahblah...delicacy favored by the Garundi...blahblahblah...known sexual proclivities...blahblahblah...not unlike the Taldans...blahblahblah...and with a dwarfess thrown on top...blahblahblah...hammering down on his...blahblahblah...and then we couldn’t go again...blahblahblah...and that’s why we elves like trees.” Having made her point, Wren finishes her drink, looking for another.
Elena yawns at the sound of archives. "Sounds dirty and stuffy." She wasn't much into books or stuff that has been hoarded, collecting dust. "Though Abraun Chalest sounds better than an angry old man."
As they receive directions to the Archives Elena tries to recall what she has heard around town about these men.
"We must find this Abraun Chalest, before Baba Wren has too much to drink and tells of her time with fire giants."
Know (local) -Chalest
Know (local) -Modd
Know (local) -Quarterfax
Wren probably knows something about them, but she’s on another train of thought.
A Bullette?!
Bronin exhales in a whistle. A look of awe and amazement on his face.
Now THAT is some hunting! I must hear that story and many others over some "beverages".
I have a great story about the defeat of a Cyclopean Lich in these broken lands farther north of here. But beyond that, we recently encountered and killed a Dulahan.
To which Bronin points toward the dangling medallion on Pot Pie's neck. as proof.
*****
When the others start talking about visiting others, who are probably BOR-ING as warmed up death. Bronin doesn't understand how the others are looking to pass up a terrific conversation with someone who has done such legendary stuff.
He whispers into The Count
So, Count, what do you know about the vampires that seem to be within the city? We encountered a Vampire slayer, and where there's a slayer- there's prey.
Wren's near-encylopedic knowledge of the Caliphas chapter of the Order comes in handy. Abraun Chalest is a fairly popular figure in the order and a renowned expert on Osirian culture who had an extensive adventuring career as a rogue scholar before settling into retire as the archivist here.
Edjerus Modd is another character entirely. He is a high-minded snobbish sort who places a great deal of importance on hierarchy and station, and the secrecy of the order.
The Quarterfax Archives are the formal archives of the City of Caliphas. However, the secret knowledge of the Esoteric Order and what they know on the Whispering Way will likely be contained within their Vaults.
Lucinean and Bronin are soon off to the side while Lucinean gulps wine, swapping tales of slaughtering monsters with the adventurer. It becomes quickly clear to Bronin that Lucinean really doesn't give a toss about the Esoteric Order, but needs to be a member because of his station and the political connections it allows him. He dearly misses his days on the road and happily lives vicariously through the stories of the group.
Count Lucinean is also no common noble, he is the Count of Amaans, the county which contains most of the Hungry Mountains to the north and as such one of the most powerful nobles in Ustalav. He is currently in Caliphas on one of his seasonal visits to the royal court, a requirement of his station he loathes.
When Bronin finally drops the hint about the vampires, he leans in with interest.
"The whole city is talking about the murders. The vampires in Caliphas are a secretive bunch - so much so most people think they're a myth. My understanding is whatever predation they engage in is done discretely and with minimal disruption to the city. Everyone more or less gets along. Of course this snobby social club is good for one thing. It's quite clear there's a slayer at work here though. Nobody knows a bloody thing though - just speculation."
The Count happily follows you along, trying to tell Bronin about a wrestling match with an owlbear. He points you southwards across the hall, and with your drinks in hand you make your way into the gathering room. It is much more subdued, and heavy with the scent of cigars. There, talking politely to an alcolyte is a pudgy bespectacled man in his senior years.
The Count claps him roughly on the shoulder and he gives a yelp before turning and smiling broadly.
"Ahh! Count Galdana, I see you've made some friends. And what fascinating friends these are!"
He totters over to shake your hands. "Abraun Chalest, I am Caliphas' Archivist and perhaps a notorious anorak for Osirian history. Pray tell what can I help you with? What a marvelous distraction."
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Adder is careful to conceal his vampire hunting tools. Killing a vampire or two isn't uncomfortable, but there's no sense being accused of a murder you didn't commit when there are plenty of murders you have.
"We seek to know more of the Whispering Way."
Wren picks up on what Jameson says, echoing his comments like a myna bird.
”Oh dearie! Yes, we’d like to know more of them! Maybe you have some information in the Vault?” Wren screeches. ”Can we go there?”
Abraun blinks. "Well that's a little abrupt. I'm sure your reasons are honest, but our Vaults are not open to the general public."
The Count slurs a little as he leans on Abraun. "Oh don't be a pissant Abraun. They're trying to stop the Way. Helping them is in the Order's best interests surely."
Yes, we are here to stop the Whispering Way. We hate them with a heavy loathing. We have already stopped some of their plans, aiding The Order in a couple other cities. We even have proof that we have defeated a Dullahan.
With that, he tries to show them Potpie and the necklace around his neck.
Beware, that thing is cursed as the day is long. The chicken is the only way we can keep it around as we look for ways to destroy it.
Any bonus for the amulet?
Bronin, not knowing anything about Osirian, obviously didn't use the right opening platitudes.
Wren seems on the verge of 'helping'.
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At the mention of Dullahan Elena grabs PotPie out of his satchel and holds the chicken aloft. Immediately PotPie begins to freak out and flap frantically mere inches away from the man's face as if wanting to take flight. She yanks him back. "Sorry!" She looks red in the face.
"I was just recently rescued by these adventurers. They came through my town just as I was trying to escape. Seems my town had a deal with the Whispering Way and was sacrificing all the children into summoning some strange beast. They killed it thankfully and that led us here."
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yes! Lena contributes. She swallows her drink. (Her fifth)
burned up lots of whispering ways! Whoosh, boom! Because that they are gathering things. A ghost, a werewolf king heart, said seasage effigree, effiligby, effilibrar...thingy! And we fought a glowy light thing. And wren and eldon, they talks and talks and talks and never, ever shuts up. And she smells. Eldon doesn't. But he's gone away.
She pauses. not feeling too well. Something I ate.
She rallies. The point, the point is they're up to something. An we have to stop it. Professor Lorimar would have wanted it.
She leans close. I see dead people. Cause I burn em. And the undead. Lots a those.
She looks at her glass. How did that get empty? Whispering way probably stole it too.
Looking up Lena grabs her chair.
Whiskeyjack, why is the world spinning?
"Ah lass, I be forgettin' tha' ye ain't a dwarf! Tha' be a decent whiskey an' ye've knocked back more'n yer wee frame ken handle. Jest drink a glass o' water or three an' ye'll be righ' as rain once ye've pissed i' ou'. Oh, an' I wouldnae be suggestin' ye be castin' any o' yer fire spells until ye air ou' a bi'. Them fumes'll likely ignite and burn yer eyebrows off!"
"As fer ye, ye stodgy ol' anorak, we be needin' access t' th' vaults, like th' idiot o'er there said. An' if'n ye be havin' access, then it's ye who needs t' be lettin' us in!"
"Wait! Wha's an anorak? I though' tha' were th' one-horned bear thingie we killed a couple months back?" Whiskeyjack looked confused.
Wren seems about to say more, but the din from her companions drowns her out. She awaits a response, sipping more elven wine at this fine establishment.
Abraun listens attentively to all of you, pursing his lips. "Your story is most fascinating. If half of what you say is true there is clearly something important afoot here. However, I cannot just pass you my key for the Vaults. We're going to have to speak to the Master of the Order."
He gulps some wine, smiling a little. "Hopefully he likes you."
Now with the Count and the Archivist in tow, you head to the next room. The Count grabs a hold of Bronin and leans in.
"Edjureus is a prick who only cares about nobility and manners and power. I'll do my best to convince him but he is going to hate you lot - particularly that weird elf."
---
You make your way into the conservatory. A large piano dominates the southwest of this room and crystal chandeliers hang overhead. A crowd of people are gathered around an imposing, stocky man in splendid ornate robes. His head snaps over to look at all of you as you make your way over. He actually looks horrified as he takes in the lot of you. With a wave of his hand, he dismisses his associates.
"Who let you in here?" he barks angrily as you approach.
"Come off it Edjureus," responds Count Galdana. "These good folk are battling the Whispering Way and need our help. You need to let them in the Vaults so they can strike at the bastards. Allow me to introduce Lord Bronin Dahari and his associates."
Edjureus stalks over to Bronin, eyeing him up and down. "The Vaults are strictly forbidden for non-members of the Order, my Lord. I simply cannot allow this. Please tell your ... companions to go loot a dungeon or whatever it is they do."
I thank Count Galdana for properly introducing me, but you must be slightly mistaken in perceiving that titles are handed out like street sausages.
I AM LORD Bronin Dohari of the Kingdom of Syradel. The home of the surviving Syrascar and Aradel nations. Steward of the Varnhold Colonies. Tamer of the Riverlands.
Be makes certain to stress every syllable of his title and importance.
He continues not allowing Edjureaus to interrupt.He goes on the power play offensive.
THIS is my entourage. They are my protection and NOT dungeon divers. In fact, where I come from, having an entourage of 5 protectors is fairly significant. NOT having an entourage would reflect a rather poor social position.
If needed, Bronin will add a bit of social slap by pointing out that Edjureus doesn't appear to even have an honor guard.
The Whispering Way is a danger to my kingdom. As the person usually sitting in the throne at the capital - I am here personally because the threat to overthrow my kingdom is VERY REAL.
Again, he points to the very evil medallion.
You want to sense real evil, just look at this medallion.
Again Wren seems ready to 'help' and again she sips her elven wine, thinking of the right stories that help their cause.
I should tell them about the twin dancers who breathed fire out their backsides. Yes, that a very good story...
Elena is quite amazed and simply holds the squawking Potpie up to show th medallion as the chicken tosses feathers everywhere. She has no idea where to help as this conversation was well out of her league. After all she was a barmaid, not someone of nobility.
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Whiskeyjack started to inform the prick that "whatever it is they do" is kill impediments and loot their corpses for things like keys to important areas, but decided (for once) to let Lena and Bronin handle things for a bit.
I wish Eldon were here. He'd talk the key right out of this bastard's hands and have him thanking us for the honor of doing us the favor.
Gritting his teeth, and finally throwing his hands in the air as Elena shoves a chicken in his face, Edjreus relents.
"Please put that chicken away madam," he says with thin politeness. "In the Esoteric Order such titles mean little, although one of your station may consider membership if you wish such access - Lord Dahari. Regardless, I accept the Whispering Way are a threat and you certainly appear to have encountered them. A Moribund Key is a fascinating prize indeed and... oh my Lord is that the Raven's Head?!"
His eyes go wide as he notices the mace Whiskeyjack has strapped to his belt. "I see you are not some common adventurers. Very well, I will grant you access to the Vaults. Abraun, you will accompany them in order to ensure that the Lord Dahari's... enthusiastic entourage respect the knowledge within. Use your key."
He fixes Bronin with a level stare. "I grant this to you on the condition that the Esoteric Order will be informed about your workings against the Way so that it may aid our own efforts. The Whispering Way seek the destruction of all life in Ustalav and beyond - a perpetual realm of undeath. I trust my aid will be rewarded in kind so that we may face this common menace."
The Count grins and slaps Bronin on the back. "Bah! I knew you'd do fine. Good luck in there. I hear it's dusty and boring."
I trust my aid will be rewarded in kind
To which Bronin replies, Of course! Allies regularly share information, credit, and spoils of war.
I have a very good reputation of rewarding those that aid me - anything less and I would never have assembled such a powerful and accomplished champions.Bronin tries to give props to the others in his party. He realized that Edjreus was talking a bit down to them and about them. They were certainly biting their tongues and Bronin appreciated it.
He starts walking with the others to the vaults, but does his best to actually miss out on the "study and searching" stuff if he can just talk more with the Count. Swapping ambush stories, and hearing about The Bullette! Bronin has found a kindered spirit in The Count. Someone he gets and who gets him.
Wren seems surprised when they are allowed into the library. She loves libraries, they are her second favorite place to learn...second to gossiping.
”Oh dearie, yes, this will be exciting. I’m *very* good at researching...blahblahblah...one time track down this new tantric...blahblahblah...position involved using the bladder from a ...blahblahblah...and two rotund halflings...blahblahblah...numerous crimes of passion...blahblahblah...not quite 50 shades of...blahblahblah...and so then we all laughed and laughed!” Wren blathers as she waits to get into the archives.
Elena skips behind the group to try and keep up as the group takes off towards the archives. She whispers back to Wren. "So what exactly are we expecting to find in these dusty books? Couldn't those old men just tell us what we you are looking for?"
Bronin is just like Elena, looking to avoid any interaction with dusty books. He never saw the thrill of reading before, and he certainly didn't want to spend hours looking for stuff he didn't understand.
Especially when there was the opportunity to boast of things he's done and hear scintillating tales from The Count.
Of course, when he overhears Wren talking *again* about Halflings.. he just shakes his head.
*******
So, there we are camping in very tall grass on plains that stretch for miles.
He uses his hands to show that the grass goes up to his armpits and the plains extended far and wide.
And I'll be a Merlin mushroom if a troll- who stands like 7-8 feet tall -- like WAYYY taller than the grass---sneaks up on the person on watch and ambushes 'em! Well, it wasn't just one troll, but SIX! It was the crunching of bones that woke those of us sleeping...
Bronin continues his harrowing account of survival by a hairs breadth.
Abraun fills a glass of wine and stubs out his cigar before he waves you on. "Come along, come along! I do hope you have some proper research interests because not many get to see information like this."
He leads you into a sublevel below the theatre before then taking you to a staircase that spirals downwards before coming to a huge locked door. He produces a key and unlocks before waving you into the Vault. "Behold! It's ah, a little musty."
Piles of statuary, pottery, paintings, and art fill these chambers, clustered around large wooden crates, barrels, and narrow bookshelves full of ancient, musty tomes, with only narrow, meandering pathways between them. In the final vault to the east, a large worktable lies half-buried under piles of scrolls, books, and clay tablets, illuminated by magical work lights overhead.
He settles against a wall. "Let me know if there's anything in particularly you're searching for."
Elena blushes and becomes coy to the man for help. Something she has donw numerous times in the bar to ease rowdy customers and to help get her way. "I don't know much about the Whispering Way or Vampires. Think you can help me find something?" She smiles.
Adder, who is not a researcher, looks through the tomes for information on his newest foe.
Wren cracks her knuckles, having a fondness for a good book or two. But before she begins to seriously delve into research, she will craft a little nest for herself out of pillows & books and whatever else might be good nesting materials.
Then, when she is as snug as a pest in a nest, she will begin to research.
‘whispering way’
‘carrion crown poem’
seasage (sausage) effigy
W’Jack’s Raven hammer
vampires
”Arval, get me some nuts and seeds, won’t you?” Wren says absentmindedly.
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Wren is sadly without seeds although Abraun cheerfully scampers upstairs to bring her some nuts, which are technically seeds or drupes most of the time anyways.
Whispering Way
While the Esoteric Order is a "secret" society, the Whispering Way is a secret society. However, the information before you may be the best knowledge people have about the secret order.
The Whispering Way are obsessed with the undead, and in particular Tar-Baphon. Tar-Baphon was a wizard king in central Avistan who was killed by Aroden himself before arising as a lich and becoming the Whispering Tyrant. The texts assume that Tar-Baphon planned his own death.
The Whispering Tyrant ruled Ustalav for a millenia before succumbing to the Shining Crusade in 3754. His phylactery was never found and the text assumes was hidden by Urgathoa herself. Instead, he was imprisoned forever, beneath his fortress Gallowspire, magically locked in place beneath a Great Seal.
The society likely predates Tar-Baphon himself. The Way is a series of philosophies which are never documented, and only transferred via whispers. Those who learn too much of the Way have their mouths permanently mutilated so they cannot be gleaned through speak with dead spells.
The ultimate goal for most Way members is lichdom, and to change all living things into undead creatures subservient to the liches. Their most direct goal to do this is to release Tar-Baphon from his imprisonment.
Reading through the Whispering Way books, you see regular reference to the Moribund Key.
The Carrion Crown Poem
The Carrion Crown is an elixir which can be used to create a rich. The formula is also tied to a specific person, although it is impossible to tell what that formula is.
The ingredients for the formula are (from what you have gathered):
- The keeper of damned's soul take refers to the soul of the Warden of Harrowstone
- The packlord's heart was just that, the heart of the Packlord, the leader of the werewolves of Shudderwood
- A hundred slain lie innocent refers to Feldgrau's slain citizens, whose bone fragments were used to form "a skull of splintered graves"
- Chronicle's of Raven's tongue surely refers to the Raven's Head
Seasage Effigy
The seasage effigy was a phrase used by the Univesity of Lepidstadt who had not identified the item's true purpose. The effigy was the Face of Dagon, a holy relic sacred to the skum you had so recently defeated and was intended to be an item for barter in exchange for the Raven's Head. The Face of Dagon allowed to communication with the Great Old Ones - the group destroyed the relic to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands.
Raven's Head
Unfortunately you do not learn anything more about this artifact beyond its importance to the Church of Pharasma.
Vampires
Ustalav has a long history with vampires who have always found a special home in this misty nation. There are four types of vampire: Jiang-Shi which are created from improper burial. Moroi which are the vampires you are familiar with. Nosferatu who are created through obscure rituals and are unable to propogate. And Vetala who are created from evil children buried improperly. Dhampir may also be created through various means, such as the child of a pregnant woman who was transformed into a vapire. Vampires are believed to be descended from strigoi, a creature from the plane of shadow that may have been called to Golarion by the Whispering Way.
Which is an irony, as vampires are forever at odds with the Whispering Way. Although the Way would welcome work with vampires and any undead, the Way's goals of converting all living things to undead destroys the vampires' food source. Vampires need people to survive.
Vampires have not had an open presence in Caliphas for hundreds of years, but the books do state that they continue to thrive in this city under as a Vampire Underground and mostly keep to themselves.
Moribund Key
After several hours combing throuhg books, Wren squawks out a very exciting discovery.
There is a chronicle of several items the Whispering Way once kept in Caliphas, which includes a gargoyle statue reputed to show believes the way to the cult's hidden stronghold in the city.
The book contains a sketch of the gargoyle statue.
Former Lord Bronin is talking about the escapades along the River Thrune. He hears the research notes and finds one area interesting.
Although the Way would welcome work with vampires and any undead, the Way's goals of converting all living things to undead destroys the vampires' food source. Vampires need people to survive.
Hmmm..
The Enemy of my enemy is my friend. Hmmm. Very interesting. That bit of information is the gem in the rough.
Elena takes a look at the picture of the gargoyle statue. She tries to remember if any of her customers mentioned anything about it. She does not and shudders. "Looks scary. Abraun can we take this one with us or do you know where this statue might be?"
Abraun glances up from his book and totters over peering over to stare at it. "... I... I think that statue is in the Vaults! We recover any artifacts associated with the Whispering Way but there's so much in here it's easy to lose track. It doesn't help that so few of us are allowed access because Modd can't stomach the idea of someone learning something before him. One moment."
He gulps some wine and picks his way through the various books and artifacts towards a corner.
Half-covered by a fallen tapestry, a hideous stone gargoyle crouches upon a solid block of rough-hewn black granite. Its wings lie folded over its back, their sharp spurs reaching almost to the 10-foot-high ceiling overhead. The statue’s claws, teeth, and strangely protruding ribs all appear crafted from iron. A carved necklace with a skull-shaped medallion bearing curious runes along its outer edge hangs upon the gargoyle’s chest.
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Having talked and talked and TALKED about what she had learnt from her readings, Wren continues to nest contentedly. She sips at her mostly empty drink and whatever seeds and nuts remain.
”Squawk! The statue is in the vaults you say!?” Wren croons happily. ”Then this will be easier than I thought.”
Wren stands up from her nest, and quickly preens the bits of seed and food from her armor that had settled while she worked. When she deems herself presentable, she will move to carefully examine the hideous gargolye.
”Oh, you can spot the difference between a gargolye and a grotesque by the absence or presense of a water spout, you see?” Wren educates the heathens about such things as she examines with Detect Magic.
Adder waits, curious about this statue but well out of his depths.
The statue lights up spectacularly to Wren's eyes as she chants detect magic. It resonates with strong auras of abjuration and illusion, and importantly specific runes on the statue's medallion.
Comparing it to the moribund key around Pot Pie's neck, it's clear the runes on the moribund key could be arranged to match those on the statue.
Bronin continues his conversations. Letting the others do "their book and statue things".
Elena reaches down and grabs ahold of the medallion around Potpie's neck. "These match those symbols. And what some secret door opens in the middle of this Vault?" Elena laughs at the absurdity of it and begins arranging the symbols to match as she rolls her eyes.
Whiskeyjack, not very much at home in the confines of shelves and paper, simply followed the others and waited for them to point him at something that needed to be smashed. Occasionally he moved his free hand down to check on his newest smasher, the artifact known as the Raven's Head, especially when it was mentioned by one of the others. It seemed the weapon was important in this big ritual, though, and that meant he wasn't letting it leave his side.
When Elena started messing with the Key, though, Whiskeyjack took note. He drew his weapon and readied his shield. He didn't know what would happen, but after their recent experiences, he was sure it couldn't possibly be anything good.
As Elena begins to fiddle-faddle with the symbols, Wren carefully moves back away from the gargoyle. She never likes being first to get exploded or attacked.