Vardarel's bow strikes the horse at a critical point on its flank, causing it to scream.
Professor Bun Bun takes the time to give a simple lesson while healing the wounds on his side.
- Everyone is Stupefied 1
- The horse is surrounded by 15 feet of smoke and is concealed from you.
- Roark, Stitch, Vardarel, Bun Bun: If you begin your turn in the horse's smoke, make a DC 20 Fort Save vs inhaled poison. Failure means you are Sickened 1.
- Vardarel's Bless 25 ft: +1 Status rolls to damage
- Bun Bun's Courageous Anthem: +1 Status rolls to attack, damage
Bun Bun (Stupefied 1, Sickened 2, 10 damage)
Vardarel (3 damage, Spiritual Armament, Vibrant Thorns 4, Stupefied 1, Sickened 1)
Roark (Stupefied 1, 5 Damage, Quickened)
Stitch (Stupefied 1, 14 damage)
- Meat Wagon
Smoldering Nightmare (14 damage)
Meat Wagon gets bored with a lack of orders and slings a rock at the smokey mess.
Stitch takes a look at the horse, recognizing it as a Nightmare, a horse made from the fires of Hell itself. But this one is much weaker, probably a side effect of it reforming so quickly after defeat. Obviously do not use Fire on it, it's immune. And it can see through its own smoke. Its Willpower is the weakest.
It's also vulnerable to gunshots right between the eyes, apparently as the horse implodes into more smoke.
- Everyone is Stupefied 1
Bun Bun (Stupefied 1, Sickened 2, 10 damage)
Vardarel (3 damage, Spiritual Armament, Vibrant Thorns 4, Stupefied 1, Sickened 1)
Roark (Stupefied 1, 5 Damage, Quickened)
Stitch (Stupefied 1, 14 damage)
- Meat Wagon
Two rounds later, Sarnia Blakros rises out from the ground, her hands clutching onto a white mass of glowing white strands she pulls out.
Sarnia holds a web of thoughts in her hands. “You’ve proven your worth. Now, let’s see what spoils we’ve claimed.” She tugs a strand. “I see a ship. And a storm. Vast treasures in the shadows. Puppets… so many puppets… they’re us.”
The web dissolves. Sarnia grimaces as a cackle erupts from the storm clouds. CRACK. >Puppets on strings descend from the sky.< CRACK. A fetchling puppet and broken wayfinder dance jerkily on the strings. CRACK. The fetchling strikes the wayfinder. But the cracking sound comes from something else—a massive, gaunt, midnight-black clawed hand descends from the clouds, knuckles cracking as it pulls the puppet strings. CRACK. The wayfinder shatters. Another cackle. The hand grasps the fetchling puppet and grinds it to dust.
Sarnia gasps. “My son, I sensed her in my son’s mind. Marcien is afraid—panicked—and he’s moved to secure our treasures. But she knows where. It’s Aslynn the night hag! It’s a trick to empty the Onyx Repository! Vast wealth and power is stored there. Please, help me warn Mar—”
A quiet cackle echoes as Sarnia’s projection shatters.
Palpable terror freezes limbs and thought. A crone’s voice pierces the air. “What a regrettable development. Pathfinders stealing from Aslynn. Your predecessors were more willing to do business. To make bargains.
“Ah, well. We’ve dwelled too much on the past. It’s time to look to the future. I, too, have changed. I can’t wait for you to see the boundless nightmares I’m brewing for you after the Onyx Alliance’s treasures are mine! Now, get out.”
Aslynn’s hands rip and tear at the landscape. The Dustbound Isle collapses into darkness and you wake in the Grand Lodge. Sarnia and Captain Zendrani are nowhere to be seen.
But you do see Sarnia's >Alluring Scarf< nearby.
Toldrar, Valias and Urwal see you stir awake and quickly call for assistants to manage your injuries and get you some food to restore your hunger. Meat Wagon belches smoke from outside.
Toldrar speaks up. "What happened out there? What did you see?"
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Frowning, Vardarel says “It seems the hag Aslan is responsible for the problems.”
“She plans to use Marcien Blakrose as a pawn to get into the Onyx Alliance vaults and steal from them. Sarnia Blakrose was trapped in that dreamscape, I do hope she escaped.”
He pauses, then says “Right now, the Onyx Alliance and our objectives align, stop Aslan from stealing those treasures.”
He looks around, making sure everyone is alright. That is when he notices the scarf and points to it. “How did Sarnia’s scarf get here?”
“Oh, and before I forget, if we ever send people into a dreamscape again be sure to give them a Desnan religious text.”
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"Huh, my idiot brother was right about one thing, most everything is vulnerable to a bullet to the face!" Stitch squeals, regaling the group with what he knows about the now dissolving nightmare horse thing. Its odd, horses now seem to give him the creeps.
He quickly reloads when the hands come down out of the clouds "What the heck!" Is the last thing he remembers before waking up, hungry of course, back at the Lodge.
"Anyone have any snacks? I get famished after bad dreams for some reason." He lounges a bit and takes in all the pampering he can get. If its good enough for black bird then I guess it can't be half bad. "Yes, this hand is sore, lots of trigger work I guess, maybe a massage could help!" He says through a mouthful of sandwich.
Stitch nods along with Vardarel's recap, adding in "Yes, Desna was definitely involved in those shrines, I think every last one had her fingerprints, so to speak."
"The lion deity was in the dreams?" Valais listens intently.
"No, the witch was upset about her wardrobe." Urwal ponders.
Toldrar huffs. "Aslynn is an old enemy of the Society. If she intends to make her move against the Onyx Alliance soon, and if she’s going to acquire significant power, we need to send agents there right away!"
Valais tries to catch his attention, but Toldrar is already out of the room, barking orders to help prepare. She sighs. "...he is always too eager to complete The Mission. I wandered the shores of Heaven for a decade before they would grant me an audience..."
Urwal ignores them both. "Tell me of the island. You mentioned Desnan artifacts? Are these the monoliths Toldrar saw?"
Valais stops her rambling. "Sorry, Blakros yes? Wasn't her son Marcien involved in raiding the Sixwing Drake? Did the dreamscape reveal anything about that?"
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Looking to Urwal, Vardarel says “Yes, the towers were related to Desna, but they had been corrupted. We did our best to purify them. I think it would be best to save the details for my written report.”
Looking to Valias, he says “It seems Sarnia was tricked into thinking we were betraying the Oynx Alliance and acted before verifying the information. Now it seems fear and mistrust is allowing the hag to manipulate her son Marcien.”
He provides the details of what Sarnia Blakrose told the group about the attack, along with what the captain had said,
“Professor Bun Bun made a copy of the logbook in his staff. We will have to see if that worked….”
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"Cutie-eey?"
"No, no, no. It'th Q.T.E. Quite. Thoroughly. Educated."
“Professor Bun Bun made a copy of the logbook in his staff. We will have to see if that worked….”
A frustrated Professor Bun Bun stops arguing with Roark long enough to answer Vardarel. "What? Of courthe it worked. I'm infallable. Thee!"
He summons the book from his staff and presents it to Valais with a smug grin.
A little over a week later, Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin calls you to the meeting room within the Grand Lodge. Most of you meet up again, yet there is a new member. Maybe two of them?
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A humanoid-shaped tangle of dull brown vines and mottled black leaves, dressed in simple traveling clothes, turns to regard the rest of the assembled group. Leshys are by no means an unusual sight within the Pathfinder Society or anywhere else these days, yet it's unusual to see one composed of such sickly-looking vegetation. In fact, the only bright spots of color that can be seen are the vibrant green thorns that grow along the vines and a shining sigil on the left side of the face.
"I am Greenbrier."
The voice is feminine-sounding, quiet.
"This is my partner, Rumbleweed."
She gestures to the other plant creature in the room, something that looks for all the world like an oversized, prickly tumbleweed. It rolls around to look at the group...and extends a vine-like appendage, waving it in greeting. A matching sigil glows brightly on the right side of the creature's face.
"We are new agents, but not new to life on the road...or to combat. I promise we will not be a burden to the team."
The words are sincere, yet oddly measured for such a basic thing as a greeting.
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Vardarel looks Greenbriar and Rumbleweed over, then goes over and greets them. “Hello, I am Vardarel, a priest in service to Ketephys the Hunter.”
Vardarel has a deep tan. His black hair is cut short and his goatee and mustache neatly trimmed.
The elf has no armor, but all of his clothing looks sturdy and practical. He wears a brown and green hunting jerkin with a light green shirt under it and brown trousers. He has a pendant depicting a hawk perched on a crescent. The only obvious weapons he carries are a dagger and a longbow with a quiver of arrows. His wayfinder hangs from a chain around his neck.
"Ketephys!" Rumbleweed exclaims with delight. "I like this one already, Boss!"
The eidolon rolls a circuit around Vardarel and nods with satisfaction. "Yep, anyone that's a friend of th' forest is alright with me and th' Boss."
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A poppet in the form of a stuffed rabbit wearing academic robes, complete with mortarboard hat studies Rumbleweed with intrest. "Hmm...thalthola traguth if I'm not mithtaken. Thometimeth called a windwitch. I wathn't aware that they were capable of thpeech."
"Allow me to introduthe mythelf. I am Profeththor Bun Bun Q.T.E." He reaches into his robes and produces pair of cards which he gives to Greenbriar and Rumbleweed. He attempts to tip his hat but he fails since it is sewn to his head. "Pleathed to make your acquaintanthe."
(Quite Thoroughly Educated)
Professor-at-large:
Dacilane Academy
Arcanamirium
Grand Lodge
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For the first time since introductions began, a small smile creeps across Greenbrier's face and she seems to relax a little more. "It is a pleasure to meet you too," she nods to the Professor as well as Vardarel. "Being educated is very useful, and Quite Thoroughly Educated even more so."
It is...comforting to know I am not the only awakened spirit in this group. And having a follower of the Hunter bodes well, too.
A poppet in the form of a stuffed rabbit wearing academic robes, complete with mortarboard hat studies Rumbleweed with intrest. "Hmm...thalthola traguth if I'm not mithtaken. Thometimeth called a windwitch. I wathn't aware that they were capable of thpeech."
"Oh, I'm just fulla surprises..."
A few of the eidolon's stems wind together to form a thorny appendage, which he uses to carefully take the offered card. After looking at it he casually tucks it into his mass, spearing it on a thorn for safekeeping.
"Thanks, pal. Like th' Boss said, it's good to have a real egghead along. Don't get me wrong, neither of us rolled outta th' brush yesterday, but we don't got any fancy book learning or anything like that."
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Meat Wagon's blades start to churn and spin as the tangles of unkempt vines and briars begin to address the group, almost like a distrustful tomcat.
Must.. mow... weeds....
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Stitch looks up from his journal at the commotion, seating like always on top of his grand invention to survey the disturbance What's stuck in his radiator.. oh... OHH!
Meat Wagon's blades slowly grind to a halt, slower than usual.
"Hello, I'm Stitch Steeltoe, of the great Clan Steeltoe, and this protective wagon is Meat.. Wagon." He fumbles the delivery a bit. The goblin inventor wears fine leather armor (under all the grease and scorch marks) with a dueling pistol tucked between two buttons. Tools litter his belt and the floor of his ride.
"Sorry, there are a few old habits I've had a hard time clearing from his system from back in the early days."
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Stitch and Meat Wagon roll in, for once trying to avoid mowing the lawn. You proceed into the meeting room.
In the meeting room you meet him as well as Fola Barun, leader of the Envoy Alliance as she mediates. Toldrar briefly grins as he watches you enter before maintaining his neutral battle-ready glare. The only unarmored person is a female azarketi who fidgets nervously with a heavy leather satchel and has trouble meeting anyone’s eye.
Once everyone has gathered around the large meeting table, >Ambrus Valsin< gestures for Toldrar to shut the door. “I’ll get right to it. We need to you travel to the Shadow Plane-" Fola coughs politely. "Right. For legal reasons, I'll try to call it the Netherworld." He sighs.
"And after you travel there, find a way into an impenetrable vault, and prevent a wicked night hag from plundering it! Our sources inform us that agents of the night hag Aslynn have set their sights on plundering the Onyx Repository, primary treasure vault of the group known as the Onyx Alliance. We’ve worked hard in recent years to establish an uneasy truce with the Onyx Alliance, but they’ve orchestrated multiple attacks against us this past year—or so we were led to believe! In truth, it seems, the source of these attacks was Aslynn’s forces, and she’s deceived the Onyx Alliance as well. We can’t simply warn them, as recent events have complicated the situation.”
Fola nods, “I’ve tried to contact the Alliance’s de-facto leader, Marcien Blakros, directly. He hasn’t responded. Perhaps he does not trust us. Of course, the true leader of the Onyx Alliance is Sarnia Blakros, who we recently freed from a psychic prison of Aslynn’s design. Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to contact Sarnia since those events transpired. It’s possible she’s still recovering from her ordeal. Whatever the reason, we’re left trying to deal with her son ourselves.”
Ambrus explains, “Recent events have made him paranoid, which leaves us with no other option than to thwart Aslynn ourselves, in the Onyx Alliance’s most secure fortress.”
Toldrar chuckles. “For once, perhaps the tables are being turned. Attacks on our own lodges have become tiring of late.”
“Ironic or not,” Fola adds, “We’ve reached out to the Blakros Museum for help, given how they’ve allowed us to use their shadow obelisk for travel to Shadow Absalom in the past. Thankfully, Seshuun here has agreed to assist us.”
The azarketi Seshuun removes a glossy black obelisk from her satchel. “I am certain that the Blakros family would prefer not to invite danger by getting involved in the troubles that have been plaguing your lodges of late, but I am just as certain that assisting you in this manner is the right thing to do.” Seshuun smiles knowingly. “Besides, Aslynn caused the events which ruined my Iobaria exhibit! Technically, I’m acting in the museum’s best interest.”
Ambrus concludes the briefing. “When you reach Shadow Absalom, I need you to investigate across the city and gather as much information as you can about recent events, Aslynn’s plans, and how to enter the Onyx Repository.” He frowns sternly. “This is not a frontal assault. The Repository is too well guarded for such foolishness, and your investigation needs to be just that, with words rather than blades, unless all else fails.”
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"Yes, we did free Sarnia from that dreamscape prison, she mentioned something about her son, maybe she's with him now. Hopefully if so she'll help us convince him to help us too." Stitch adds, the freaky dreams from a week ago still fresh in his mind.
"You want us to... SPY on them? But the other methods provide much better testing data.."
“Aslynn is a planar merchant of sorts who deals in all manner of treasures, as well as mortal souls. She routinely manipulates or controls others. She was involved in several schemes against the Society a few years ago, including an attempt to steal the soul of our former Master of Spells, a bid to plunder the extraplanar realm known as the Hao Jin Tapestry, and several other plots. Truly, we’re not sure of the full extent of her plots—or her power. But everything she stands for is anathema to the Society’s goals, and it seems she holds a severe grudge against us!” Ambrus Valsin rambles for a bit.
Fola chimes in. "In other words, if this is a trap it's a very elaborate one. That's why we will spy, observe, and cooperate with the Onyx Alliance." She smiles at Stitch.
When Vardarel asks about contacts, Toldrar steps forward. "Here is a list of points of interest and contacts you may find in the Sh- the Netherworld."
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"Just call him Thunderhole, it'll make more sense later." Stitch tries to get that through with a straight face.
Listening through the list of contacts Stitch takes a few notes down on the back cover of his notebook. "Some strange ones down.. over? there. I'm looking forward to talking to that necromancer, they can be really progressive with medical techniques!"
Vardarel knows in the Netherworld, creatures from this Universe and others that generate light draw suspicion. They are advised to extinguish their light sources.
Stitch recognizes Shadow Absalom as a shining jewel of cross-planar trade and safety within the Netherworld. The city has many similarities to Absalom in terms of buildings and even similar events at around the same time. The city's ruler enforces protection within their realm.
Professor Bun Bun isn't able to recall anything about Shadow Absalom, so he focuses on Marcien Blakros. He's a capable spellcaster, specializing in illusion and mental enchantments. It helped him rise to the top of the Onyx Alliance without any resistance. He is now the de facto leader. His enemies didn't even accuse him of nepotism once his mother disappeared. Vardarel has similar information.
Stitch, always keeping an eye out for exotic weapons, knows Marcien likes to work behind his operatives during fights. He has a magical pistol called Backbiter. It hits like a flintlock gun and also curses the targets to fight amongst themselves.
Ambrus takes you to the side with a sympathetic look. “Before you go, I need you to understand something about the Soul Stalls. Things of grotesque evil go on there on a daily basis, and we’re asking you to go there and talk to someone intimately involved in the trade of souls. As difficult as it may be, don’t take any actions against the trade therein while you’re on this mission. Yes, it’s abhorrent, and we’re taking steps against it where we can, but for now we need information on the present matter. Learn what you can and leave without causing a disturbance, regardless of what you might witness. In thwarting Aslynn’s power grab, we’ll deal a significant blow to her own trading activities, which should be far more significant than we could manage if we tried to cause trouble in the Soul Stalls. After all, Argrinyxia’s forces watch over the market, and we’re no match for an ancient umbral dragon’s wrath.”
Fola overhears him talking about the ruler of Shadow Dragon and she adds, “I hear she can be even more grumpy than Ambrus!" He gives her quizzical glare as she laughs. "As for working against abhorrent practices in Shadow Absalom, that’s where the Envoy’s Alliance faction comes in. I’d like you to do everything you can to secure the trust and allegiance of Onyx Alliance members. The group recently reformed in some ways under Sarnia’s leadership, ending all involvement in slavery and the soul trade, but there are those who would continue to steer it toward evil practices. Try to restore the Onyx Alliance’s trust in the Pathfinder Society. You might even be able to convince some of its members to join our ranks, which would be an incredible boon for the Society in these troubled times.”
Toldrar hands you 4 moderate healing potions. "Always be prepared. Come back alive."
“You can travel to the Glare. It’s a giant beacon of light at the center of the city. You can’t miss it! It’ll send you back to where you were just before you entered Shadow Absalom.”
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Neither Greenbrier nor Rumbleweed seem to have much knowledge of Shadow Absalom or the Netherworld; the pair simply look at each other and shrug. But they do listen to the things the rest of the group shares with great interest.
"Do not cause trouble or draw unnecessary attention. Understood. It is a hard lesson to learn, but sometimes...sometimes you aren't able to save everyone," Greenbrier sighs. "Especially not if you get yourself killed, or worse."