Finding the Spark (Pathfinder 1E Quest)

6th of Neth 4707 A.R. (Absalom Reckoning)

Vermleks, of course it would be vermleks babbling about, horns aside, Sirim thought as he flowed and pooled through the dips and rises in the forest floor. The creatures had a reputation in Nidal as tempters of young shadowbinders into heresy. They claimed to know secrets of darkness that were old when Dou-Bral was young, and yet their only purpose was to ensconce themselves in warm flesh and make a mockery of the hopes, dreams, and ambitions of their would-be masters. When all was said and done vermleks were not creatures of treachery, though they practiced it, nor of stealth, though they had mastered it long ago, but of envy, the hollow feeling that another's life, place, or power should belong to you, stripped of all the social pretenses that men garbed them in. So it was with all demons, they were not souls corrupted, whatever their origin, but sins-given-mind and Sirim very much feared encountering one which echoed the temptations within.

It was not a thought he could share with his companions on the eve of battle, not when the prize they had so long sought after was in sight. Not when all I was asked was the use of my eyes and what passed for my voice. And yet he envied those still touched by true life, to feel the wind on his face, the feeling of sore muscles after a run, a refreshing drink of water, and the warm comfort of a filling meal on a cold winter's night. All these things he kept locked in memory's vault which were as far from him as the face of the moon, only now starting to peek between the branches the Verduran's gnarled and too-tall trees.

Enough moaning, thought the mage. The edge of the camp was ahead, reddish-gold light diffusing into a sort of half-twilight under the branches, even here at the forest's edge where the men of Fusil must have bargained with the fey to at least thin the canopy enough that no uninvited guest could simply jump from an oak branch atop their walls of piled stone.

The camp's own protections, alas, were far weaker than stone, only as strong as dwarven stubbornness and demon hunters' paranoia. One hopes that would be enough.


"So, d'you think the ghosts are going to get lost in the woods this time?" one portly dwarf asked a crossbowwoman, her weapon set beside the pot from which they were scraping out the last of the evening's meal, beans from the smell of it, and not half bad at that. Why this damnable form should have a sense of smell Sirim could not say, though he had to admit, intellectually at least, that it was probably not just to torture him.

"Your guess is as good as mine. Don't know where the wizard found them. I don't ask where wizards find anything, and you shouldn't neither. Sleep better at night that way," the woman replied and Sirim realized that he and his companions were the 'ghosts' of which they spoke.

Perhaps Gorok's Ghosts would suit them better once this battle was over, assuming they could make an end of this without making too many new enemies, the mage thought as he slid on past the duo in the direction of Urgor's tent. Unlike the sellswords, he was all-but-assured the dwarf would support them after the pledge Mina had made to him.

Still, he would have to be careful how he brought this up, dwarves could be strange and inflexible at the worst of times. Reaching out with his mind past the cloth walls of the tent....

At first he thought the feeling he was sensing was lust, which brought the additional and very much unwelcome question of how one politely disentangled a dwarvish assignation in preparation to plotting, but then he realized... for all its near orgasmic intensity the emotion was not desire, it was envy. Mind caging mind, soul caging soul, the vermlek had gotten here first.


Cursing inwardly in all the tongues he knew, and he knew many, the wizard considered his next move. Leontas may have some means of exorcism, some form of light bright enough to cast the thing out, but could he do so fast and in secrecy. Would he listen to the words Sirim had come here to deliver? The other option, little as he liked trusting the unknown, was still encamped on the village green: the gnomish prince. They had, after all, held to their side of the bargain, the Lord of Veils was dead. No love of demons would they have.

Lastly he could just leave back the way he had come, bring the others and see what solution they could think of. Not a thought he could have had half a year ago, much less been comfortable with, but now is was natural enough.

Or it is just me shirking my responsibilities.

What does Sirim do?

[] Go to Leontas with a warming

[] Go to the fey with news that demons have taken root in their lands

[] Return to the others

[] Write in

OOC: The -5 in that potential opposed stealth is distance since Sirim is under no obligation to go right under the noses of the guards, basically he is stealthy enough that even basic precautions mean that normal guards are not going to be able to catch him at it. Cob meanwhile is so stealthy he might soon be able to get away with stomping on the guards' feet as a prank, but that's Cob.

6th of Neth 4707 A.R. (Absalom Reckoning)

"Captain Leontas," his name came out of nowhere, seemingly conjured out of the evening air or imagination, until, that is, he spied a pair of faint red sparks, like the embers of a dying fire were all that marked the shadow in front of him. Cause and more than cause to have cold iron at hand.

"Easy boy, easy," he tightened his legs and lay his other hand on the side of horse's head.

"I am Sirim, companion to the lady Mina, come back before the others, and we have work to do this eve, you and I. Urgor Surefoot has been possessed by a shadow demon and we have cause to believe there is another afoot. I was quite relieved to see that it had not taken you..."

Another man, younger, more foolish or just unused to the ways of fiends, might have been struck in his pride by the implication that he could have been taken. But you didn't fight in the Crusades most of your life by thinking yourself beyond all spell or temptation, and no the sellsword was trying to figure out what that was. Not dead or he'd be feeling a chill in his bones, maybe more like one of the 'little gods' of the Sarkorians, half remembered from his mother's songs in childhood. He had to be sure it wasn't a demon. Hard-earned had been the lessons of the Crusades.

"Blood oath?" he asked grimly, carefully drawing the lance point up for twas cold iron and blessed beside, the bane of fey things and demons both.

"I have no blood, but I will make due," the spirit answered. One of its tendrils spiraled close, though this time mount was ready for it, just a nervous whinny out of him.

The metal bit into the shadow as it was meant to being touched by magic at all, but it didn't grow warm in his hands. This then, whatever it was, that warned him of demons was no demon itself.


His hand reached for the silver crusader's talisman he wore, the last remnant of the man who'd wanted to be a holy warrior, worn now for its practicality. The thought of giving it up when he knew there was another of the damn things around almost made his hands shake, but it was the sound tactical decision. They had to get the dwarf back, or they'd be fighting all his kinsmen sure enough. There was no way they would take Leontas' word over that which came from Urgor's lips

On hearing his plan the shade approved and offered some semblance of comfort at least, that being something it obviously wasn't used to dealing in: "A shadow demon would likely depart before dawn rather than risk being trapped in a vessel in daylight, when any proper exorcism would be their undoing."


They planned for all manner of possibilities, from having his company storm the tent and hold the dwarf down to the shade holding him in place with magic long enough to set the talisman on him, but each option comes against the same issues: It is either loud enough to draw furious dwarfs or unreliable enough that the demon might do the calling himself, until, that is, they come upon the notion of simply dropping it on his head as Leontas approaches him in conversation.

"Master Surefoot, Master Surefoot!" Leontas called in his best impression of an asshole colonel who was about to launch into a half an hour complaint about about the latrines being three inches too deep or some such. "I would have words with you!"

The figure inside the tent moved as it should, solid dwarvish steps that always seemed like they'd shake the ground were they just a bit heavier. "Aye, and what words are those, lad?"

"I know that gambling's a reasonable enough pastime even in a war-zone, I'm a dab hand at the bones myself, but..."

Clink, the chain fell around his shoulders in a flash and a look of horror came upon him only for the shadow behind him to transform into a ragged winged thing, a nightmare without shape, and fly out with a hiss of undying spite.


Leontas finally let out a sigh of relief. "It's alright master Surefoot, you didn't do any harm and you fought it off. That's more than most who face such horrid trials can say..." He started, but the dwarf didn't looks like he was listening. They say the dwarf folk are made of stone. Leontas thought this one was looked like he was crumbling.

"Remember Jernashall," the shade snake hissed and almost as if by some spell he shook himself, some of the color returning to his face.


Once both of them had found a seat and the talisman had been returned with questions of where Surefoot might find one like it, it became clear the intrigues of the evening were not quite done.

How does Sirim try to convince Leontas that Gavhaul must be removed?

[] Appeal to his greed, once he he gone with can just split the treasure, it is not as though the locals or the faeries would care to gains us if we spread the story he was killed by the dragon. Wouldn't even be a lie, the dragon wants to kill him

[] Appeal to his sense of responsibility, these treasures of the Azlanti should not be left in the hands of such as Gavhaul, you saw how he treats others even when he needs them, the kind of company he kept, in Almas and elsewhere

[] Write in

OOC: You may note Sirim still has Circle of Protection versus Evil Prepared. The reason he did not mention that to Leontas is twofold, he would rather keep the spell secret and if the trick with the talisman did not work he would rather have it as an emergency do-over of sorts rather than just count on it alone. That paranoid flaw isn't just for show.