Finding the Spark (Pathfinder 1E Quest)

24th of Lamashan 4707 A.R. (Absalom Reckoning)

"The halls where I was born were too narrow and my people treated me as a stranger due to the circumstances of my birth."

Far from the scowl you had expected to see from Urgor, the dwarf nods grimly, and for the first time you wonder what he's doing, what he's really doing, working for the Aspis Consortium on a long shot expedition like this one. Sure, he had seen the prize with his own eyes and more than most would know the worth of said prize, but he does not seem to know Gavhaul from any other wealthy merchant, he does not mix with the sellswords, and the first time he had met your company he'd drawn an axe. Sky dwarfs may be less suspicious than those who ply the Long Road, but even so there's more there under the skin of things.

"Rather than eek out a lonely existence in empty caves, I chose to seek out the works of my ancestors, far and wide as they may be scattered," you conclude what you had thought would have to be the saving grace of your actions, but instead awakens in his eye a gleam of interest.

Urgor Knowledge History: 1d20+8 = 25 (Success)

"The old Sea Kings is it, Azlant and Thassilon? Older than the oldest works of dwarfs on the surface of the world they are, not that you'd be advised to boast of that too loudly in a dwarf hold. Why, there are scholars in good standing at Almas University that claim that those old stones were never made my men at all, but by elves or giants, and all that talk of Sea Kings was a Arodonite legend meant to drive the Taldan Empire ever forward."

"They should visit Nidal them, at least the existence of those lands even the priests of the Midnight Lord to not contest," Sirim, floating lazily between the wagons, whispers.

"As soon tell most folk to go to Hell," Urgor grouses, quickly turning back to you. "Don't hold with the notion personally. Some of the Gods worshiped in those days are known still, and they aren't the sort to let some big lie stick just because it suited the Taldans. Torag would've spoken straight if none of the others did."

There's an angle you had not stood in before. "Have you ever wondered why the Great Gods allowed so much to be lost? Surely the libraries of the Gods hold many of the texts that were consigned to flames in the long cold nights or eaten by the years? Did they just not care, or are the Gods hiding something..." Words come to you that feel foreign on your tongue. "Afraid of something?"

Urgor seems to find the line of questioning off putting, turning away instead of answering, eyes back on the ruts of the road, but it would not leave you. Gods had died under the shadow of Earthfall. If the High Realm of Azlant had caused it by sin, sorcery, or anything between, than they had killed Gods at one remove, perhaps at none at all. What does that say of the one who styled himself 'the Last Azlanti' dead just as he was prophesied to return and restore a golden age, one that he and he alone would direct of course. Had the workings of the land that filled your dreams been dangerous to Gods? Dangerous enough to kill? You shake your head. Mina would probably tell you you're being too suspicious for your own good, about things you can't look for besides.


25th of Lamashan 4707 A.R. (Absalom Reckoning)

That night you lie awake watching the stars and wondering what powers could pull a mountain down from among the firmament and break the earth thereby... until out of the corner of your eyes you notice the darkness outside the ring of firelight had grown just a little closer, a little deeper.

Something is inching into the camp under the cover of conjured shadows and you very much doubt it means you well.

What do you do?

[] Call a warning to the guards at once

[] Look of Sirim, try to make use of his telepathy to surreptitiously call the others

[] Write in

OOC: Since Kori can automatically see through deeper darkness and his people use it he knows what that looks like at a glance, no spellcraft roll required.

24th of Lamashan 4707 A.R. (Absalom Reckoning)

Cupping your hands together you twist, transmute the air between them, and then cast it out as light, a flash above the dying embers of the firepit. "Ware! Enemies! Fire!" you shout, though the last word almost sticks in your mouth as you see the shadows circling above. Bats twice the size of a man and flying silent, but instead of flesh and fur they seem to be made of congealed darkness. Three of them fly in eerie synchronicity above the camp. Something pale moves in the shadow you had seen crawling along the ground and isn't there.

Akorian Knowledge (History): 1d20+5 = 10 (Failure)


The sellswords take up the shout of warning, spears at the ready, while horses begin to neigh in fright, there's something among them. A distraction, you know with a sinking heart as Mina's voice comes from the tent she shares with Sirim. A scream shifts into a song, the melody uneven with lingering fright. Tearing aside the cloth you see a pale figure, half in shadow... no, half of shadow on the floor of the tent as Mina stands over it, eyes dreadfully wide, cheeks pale, a dagger clutched in her hand.

"Kytons, 'messengers' of the Umbral Court," Sirim all-but-shouts into your mind as he comes to float above the creature.

That is all the encouragement you need to draw the black blade you had been given in Cauldron and dip it in the blood of the... dead thing. Half boiling shadow stuff it was and half pale flesh festooned with chains and scars, calling prayers to some alien power. Whoever or whatever they served it must not have been listening, because the night touched steel cuts right below its neck, severing the spine.

??? Kyon Fortitude Save Against Coup De Grace (DC 19): 1d20+6 = 12 (Failure) -> Kyton Slain

"It entered from the shadows, but we had already been warned by your call so I was beyond the reach of its trap," Sirim seems to have regained some of his composure as the black blood seeps into the ground. Only then do you see what looks like a lantern of black oiled paper lying next to the body's single remaining, fleshy hand. "It was not beyond the reach of my enchantments."

"There is more..." The rest of your words are drowned out by cries somehow both sharp enough to seem right beside the ear and echoing as though through many miles from some far off tunnel. "Bats!" you shout.

Sellswords call out to each other and curse the foe. 'Demon,' they shout, and 'Pitspawn,' some clutching to the marks of whatever God they would entrust their souls to, but all of them with weapons ready. Bolts fly one after another into the dark. The horses are... screaming now. A distraction maybe, but a vicious one.

Still, under the shadow of the creature's magic, Mina starts to move past you, bent on going out and healing the wounded, man and beast alike. There are more of those things out there, there have to be, one would not an attack make. You should...

[] Stay back, they are obviously after Sirim, the important thing is to keep him safe

[] Go out, help and heal as much as you can

[] Write in

OOC: Calling out was the good move here, going to get Sirim would have ended with you inside the tent on the same round, but no one would have given the alarm that woke Mina up in time to react and the Kyton. True, her spell did not send it to sleep, but that save would have been good enough to pass Sirim's DC as well, which means he would have been trapped and then the thing would have tried to make its escape with its prisoner... presumably on those giant bats that you did not identify.