Crypt of the Everflame, Masks of the Living God, and City of Golden Death.
One by one, you each arrive at the empty town square. The bells atop the Temple of Erastil toll their midday song, echoing throughout the quiet town of Kassen. As the peals begin to fade, the first of the townsfolk make their way into the square, dressed in black, as if attending a funeral. They slowly fill the square, moving quietly across the cold, hard ground, their eyes downcast and mournful. After a few moments, a murmur passes through the crowd as it slowly parts to let Mayor Uptal through. He leads the way with a tarnished silver lantern. Behind him, an old pony drags a cart laden with backpacks and supplies.
Once he reaches the center of the crowd, Mayor Uptal stops and calls out to the assembled townsfolk. Once again the winter winds blow through the Fangwood, marking the end of another harvest. There are wolves in the woods, howling at our walls, and serpents in our shadows, waiting to strike. Just as it was one hundred and seventy-four years ago, when Kassen himself left these walls to protect us, so it is today.
Where are the heroes? Where are the brave folk that will venture out to Kassen’s tomb and retrieve the flame to keep this community safe for another winter?
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A dwarf with long black hair and beard braided with fine metal loops and decor steps forward. Steely eyes peer out from behind lenses set in think wire frames. He holds a traveling journal in one hand.
I am Ignatius LoreKeeper of the Earthsong clan, second son of Harsk Goblinslayer, son of K'Tang Forgemaster, son of the Rograr the Bold, son of Martuk Earthsong. I will make this journey and recount the glories of those that retrieve the flame.
The dwarf moves to the cart, selects few items and awaits those that he will join on the trip.
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Stepping through the crowd, a rather frail-looking elf man steps up to the cart.
With this I will certainly be able to impress my way into the ranks of the Pathfinders, that is certain.
"I am Thurim, once of Cryingleaf. I'll be there to watch. And then record. That is, when I can reasonably afford a journal. And help, of course; I'm not a savage."
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Nat holds out a hand to the elf, Welcome Thurim, it will be a pleasure to have a fellow lorekeeper upon this glorious outing. Although we must be mindful to support the effort, lest it be nothing more than a tale of those that watched and recorded.
I wonder who else will join this quest. Hopefully someone with a good swordarm, just in case.
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A tall, muscular green-skinned man carrying a sizeable broadsword steps forward.
Why no humans try for this test? Maybe they all too scared?
"Grog will get yer fire for ya. You humans give me a home here so I'll help keep it safe. I prove to all I'm strong."
He beats his fist against his chest then looks over at the other hopefuls.
"S'posed to be dangerous. Grog can't promise he keeps scrawny book-breathers safe in crypt but I try anyway."
Grog moves aside and collects his supplies.
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I wonder who else will be joining me on this little walk? Better hurry or I may get skipped.
A nimble gnome with blazing red and yellow hair comes running into the circle, huffing a little.
Ngon... huhh... Ngonunho Adrelsandmar Kaetanta, master of Pei Xin herbalism. I am so grateful to be asked to carry a sacred flame, being one who is touched so much by... Wow! I think that sword weighs more than two of me.
Ngon leans forward for a second with his hands on his knees.
Well now, with such a mighty sword, trouble will surely keep it's distance.
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Ngonunho begins mouthing the names of the rest of the party, then with a smile on his lips he turns to each.
It's amazing! Names reveal more about us than we can usually see.
Ngonunho runs up to Grog and looks up at the towering half-orc.
Grog! It even sounds forceful. To the point would be the best way to describe it, and given the ease that you have holding that sword...
Next he turns to Thurim.
Thurim. Flowing and graceful, perfect for an elf.
Last is Ignatius.
Ignatius... Sturdy name for a sturdy dwarf.
Ngonunho raises his arms encompassing the group from afar.
I look forward to getting to know more about all of you! So, when do we go?
The mayor nods to each of you in turn. He then addresses the townsfolk, I present to you the brave heroes who will follow in Kassen’s footsteps to retrieve the Everflame! Some of them may not return, but I say to you that their sacrifice shall not be forgotten. Go, brave heroes, and do not return until you have the eternal fire.
With that, the mayor points to the south, the direction of Kassen’s tomb. The townsfolk begin waving goodbye with cold, solemn looks on most of their faces.
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Ignatius peers over his glasses at Thurim for a second before continuing.
Well, it began on a day much like this actually. Marattus, he was simply Marattus then, as he had not yet come to be known as Marattus the Brave yet - which is the point of our tale.... Ignatius weaves a tale that fills the time spent on the road, but hardly compelling stuff.
The trail outside of town is relatively clear and easy to follow. When you arrive at a crossroads, Grog stops the group and checks the surroundings before confidently picking a direction. The sounds of birds singing and small animals rustling in the brush accompanies you along the way.
After about two hours travel, the path narrows and winds through the raking claws of the trees, now bereft of their leaves, which crunch loudly underfoot. Up ahead, a fallen tree trunk blocks the path. As you approach, a trio of snarling humanoids leaps up from behind the log, all greenish
skin and fearsome tusks, bellowing vulgar challenges.
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Orcs, perhaps relatives come to see you off? Ignatius says to Grog.
Kyk na die dnsbokke op die brom. He then says in an overly loud voice, one the snarling creatures are sure to hear.
And he will draw his dwarven axe as soon as he can pull it from its sheath.
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They didn't say anything worth repeating. But in our stories, we shall note our foes challenged us. Ignatius moves forward
Ignatius uses Bardic Performance-Naturalist to aid the party.
Orcs are sensitive to light. They are fearsome in hordes and strong, but comparatively low intellect. Violent and aggressive, they rule through fear and brutality. Lacking patience and arrogant, quick to anger when challenged... Ignatius details the weaknesses of orcs identified in the tales and histories of his people.
Grog lands a solid blow on the orc, causing it to howl in pain and drop to one knee. It snarls at Grog and swings its greataxe.
The two other orcs hoot and grab their javelins. One (blue) throws at Nat and the other (green) throws at Ngonunho.
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Nat moves up behind Grog, and placing a hand on Grog's back speaks, By Torag's will bind these wounds!
Cure Light Wounds, healing Grog for .
That looked like it hurt, even for someone as tough as I suspect Grog to be.
Rules forums, including a post by James Jacobs indicate both can be done - however DM rules.
IF Nat can continue the bardic performance as he heals Grog he will. Otherwise, he will end the performance and perform the indicated action. With his Lingering Performance the effectes would continue for 2 rds for allies within 30' of Nat.
The orc (red) in front of Grog snarls and averts his gaze from the brightly colored pattern reaching towards him. The other orc (green) stares directly at it, with a dumbfounded expression and collapses to the ground.
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You've still got some leaks my friend.
Ngonunho hurries forward, keeping an eye on the fallen orc to make sure there is no danger there for the moment.
Fire brings new life, help me keep this one going!
Ngonunho reaches forward and touches Grog's back with a hand now covered in white flames.
The orc in front of Grog (red) snarls at takes another swing. The orc's body follows behind the axe and he tumbles down, limp.
The orc to the North (blue) howls and draws his greataxe. He leaps down off the trunk, swinging at Thurim.
The orc swings at you and you brace for the impact of the axe, unable to dodge out of the way. The hit never comes, though, as it seems to pass through you. In fact, now that you are up close, you believe you can see through the orc...and the other two orcs as well. They are just illusions.
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Thurim closes his eyes as his head is about to roll. "The gods are indeed cruel" he thinks as his last thought.
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He opens an eye, puzzled. Is he dead? If so why are the orcs transparent? Perhaps because he is dead, and they are among the living? But then, he turns to look at his travelling companions.
Why aren't they transparent? Is it because... Oooooh...
"These things don't exist! They are figments of the imagination!"
You suddenly realize the orc isn't actually real. It felt real when you cleaved into it. It hurt when it hit back. However, now you can see almost see through the orcs, you see them shimmer and know they aren't real. You look at your wounds and can no longer see them, they no longer hurt.
The body seems real, but since your friends no longer believe, it bolsters your perception and you press further into the body. You see a shimmery outline and can almost see through the body. It felt real at your first touch, but now it's as if your hand is waving in the air.
Grog lifts his sword and takes a mighty swing, aiming to chop the limp orc's head off. The blade passes through the body and slams hard into the ground.
The third orc stops attacking and suddenly vanishes away into nothingness.
You catch a scent of pipe smoke in the bushes nearby. You examine the area, but find no other signs.
You are able to pick out a distinct smell mixed with the normal pipe smoke. You have smelled that before. Holgast, the old wizard that lives on the Eastern edge of town smokes that particular blend.
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Ngonunho turns around quickly.
Pipeweed? Huh? I've never studied the medicinal effects of pipeweed. I wonder if it makes one more prone to believing illusions? I wonder if it opens the mind and allows even more realistic illusions to be created?
Ngonunho inhales deeply and then begins looking back at the orcs.
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Ignatius rolls his eyes, sheathes his ax and looks after Grog as he tromps down the road. He then follows along, sure the warrior will quickly outpace Ngonunho and himself.
Bull headed half-orc... No concept of a threat he cannot see. I wonder how far down the road he gets before he realizes he is all alone ahead of us. I wonder if he is smart enough to realize how dangerous it is.
As Grog wanders ahead, Ignatius will speak softly to the others,
Master Kaetanta, Thurim, we must be on guard, lest our brash leader, leads us into a real trap. I don't know why someone would create illusions for us to fight, but I do not like having skulking smokers about.