Finding the Spark (Pathfinder 1E Quest)

[DragonParadox]

A Veil of Steel ​

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

Bold as brass the child might be, but you don't trust her to keep a secret from her mother. On the other hand, being able to deliver an apology to the powerful wizard from out of reach of hand or spell sounds prudent. So you deliver 'the price of a sturdy mule', as Mina puts it, into the hands of the girl. You then follow her up to her room, so stuffed with books on every shelf and flat surface you wounder how she keeps account of them all, then down the rope ladder to the street...

Lost 20 gp -> Now at 1,442 gp 5 sp 21 cp

"Alright, so it's more of a back window. Works though," comes the cheeky rejoinder, accompanied by a smile that would not be out of place on Cob's face. "Mom says I should always have a way to get out of the house when she's not here, in case there are thieves around."

"Child, I suspect it is not thieves your mother is concerned with," Sirim addresses her for the first time. "Most thieves bold enough to attack a wizard's home would not be so foolish as to try to kill a witness. Spells there are aplenty to reveal secrets death keeps. If your mother is concerned enough to ensure you have a way out of the house that likely means she has foes that would seek her death and thus, by extension, your own."

Judging from the look of wide-eyed surprise she had not considered the implications.

Despite Mina's glare, presumably aimed at not frightening her further, the shade continues: "Likely these are foes that shy away from either the sight of the common man or the sun. Has she ever left you alone when the sun is down?"

"No..." Fear duels with intrigue across her features, as something of the motivations of her parent and teacher in the arcane is reveled. "You're really smart. My name's Anippe by the way. I really should introduce myself now that I know you're not thieves, huh?"

Sirim offers his name, though none of his titles, while the rest of you are more forthcoming, hopeful that you gained a new and useful contact inside the city.

***​

As soon as you are out of earshot of the window Mina asks pointedly: "Why did you tell her that? Didn't you see it terrified the poor girl?"

"That girl has plenty to be concerned about, but an overly timid temperment is not one of them," Sirim counters and you cannot help but agree. From the quick nod as he sweeps the street with his gaze looking for more trouble, so does Gorok.

That seems to be the end of it for the span of half a dozen heartbeats before the smoke that is Sirim shifts into more half-wihispered words: "Were I in her place I'd rather know. A wizard in the making will find trouble enough all on her own without accounting for blindness of foes by blood."

"Oh..." Mina seems like she's looking to apologize, but you suspect the shadow mage isn't even looking for one now that his logic has been accepted. For the first time you wonder at Sirim's family. What kind of family had he been born to and how had he come to study wizardry in the shadowed land? Likely you are not the only one to do so either, but neither of you manage to come up with a way to put that curiosity into words so you continue on to Zimendel's shop in search of Warty's new armor, following up on the urchin the elf had sent to the Minotaur's Horn to inform you that 'the work is done'.

Done it is indeed, flowing black steel chain of finer weave than you had seen on any armor beside Cob's new shirt. Once the barding is on Warty his slime flows through and between the links, catching and refracting the afternoon sunlight in multi-colored oily iridescence.

"Good fit?" the elf asks with an eye to Gorok, sounding more worried than his usual gruff manner.

Yet the first to answer him is Warty himself in the form of a self-satisfied warble.

"It's really, really great!" Cob cheers on, rubbing his hands on his pants to get the slurk's slime off in his excitement. Sirim's going to have to clean that off with magic again, but you can understand the feeling. The armor isn't just good at the price, it is a masterwork of elven craft, each link made with care and precision, leaving space to inscribe spells along the bands of sturdy scales that protect the slurk's underside.

"We will see it tested," Gorok says firmly, much to the smith's satisfaction.

"Good, I never made armor for such a beast. If you do spot any flaws come back to me and I shall correct them, free of charge."

Warty gains Masterwork Chainmail Barding (+4 AC; +4 Maximum Dexterity Modifier; -1 Armor Check Penalty)

That would have been the last of your buisness about the markets of Augustana, if you had not also been invited to a royal wedding. None of you had much of an idea what kind of gift would be expected in a azarketi wedding.

"Wooden spoons are traditional in Barstoi, but I do not think they would do all that well in salt water," Mina shakes her head wistfully. "Not that I've ever been to a wedding before, just something I heard."

"Only the horselords of the Atteran plains still make common custom of wedding gifts in Nidal. Matched steeds are common, but they would do little good drowned," Sirim echoes her confusion.

In the end it is Gorok who strikes upon the answer. The sea-folk cannot forge steel, making it as rare and precious to them as it had once been to Gorok's iruxi kin before he had returned with the secrets of is forging, though that still begs the question: What of steel forged should you buy?

[] Weapons: Matched daggers for the bride and groom

[] Tools: Needles, pliers, hammers and saws, all could be of great use

[] Write in

OOC: The vote to ask did not win, but I can tell you guys just from what Sirim knows of her, Thea would likely not have known what to get for an Azerketi wedding either.

 

[DragonParadox]

That Frogs Might Swim Again​

8th of Lamashan 4707 A.R. (Absalom Reckoning)

After pondering both loadstones, to mark directions, and tools of various sorts, you and Gorok settle on knives. After all, a knife is the first of all tools just as it is the among weapons, and unlike with the bewildering array of tools that one can find in the stalls of Fleet one can at least assume that Prince Cozut will know which end of the knife to make use of. The attempt at simplicity is a touch dented when Sirim suggests weighted 'dueling daggers', the hilts wrapped in fine alchemically treated silver so that the hilt would last at least as much as the blade under the relentless bite of salt water.

Lost 30 gp -> Now at 1,412 gp 5 sp 21 cp

Speaking of salt water, the splash from the corner of the room reminds you of the fellow travelers even stranger to the eyes of Augustanans than Warty. The creature's tentacles sent quick ripples across the surface of the water in the old splintered tub as one of them plays with a small bone washed clean, 'pigeon' you think it's called, though its most recent appellation had been meat scraps unfit to even make into pies. A few dozen coppers had persuaded the innkeeper that you had some use for them and a few more for not asking any questions as to what that was.

"There you go, you're going to get to do some work today," you say, a little self-conscious that you are talking to a fish, but they just seem happy to see you, almost as if they had guessed today was the day they'd be used.

***​

Of course, things aren't quite as easy as all that. For one, you need to figure out how waterproof everything you're wearing is, not at all is the answer for boots and ordinary belt pouches, and for another you have to convince Warty to swallow one of the water breathing-creatures and not chew. Gorok's first attempt ended up with his front covered in half digested slurk-food and acids strong enough to burn through skin. Had the iruxi been thinner-skinned to the mocking laughter of bored passers that might have been the end of it, but thankfully his skin is scales. One quick tap of your hand sees him right as reckoning and this time more lucky in the attempt.

Gorok Handle Animal (DC 16): 8, 24 (Critical Failure; Success)
Kori uses one Spell of Cure Light Wounds

By the time you had donned your own helper Cob was splashing in into the water with Warty following soon after, confused warbles swiftly giving way to happier almost chirping noises as he instinctively lengthens and flattens his stubby back and even shorter leg, old amphibian instincts called to the fore. The half a dozen seafolk guards set to lead you to the wedding, mounted as they are on a beast that seems halfway between horse and fish, still look on in confusion and mayhap a touch of pity.

"We are fine!" Mina assures them with a wave for proof that sends the soft mud of Fresh Harbor swirling and rippling. Apparently your destination is just a little beyond the mud flats.

What if any question do you have for the guards on the short trip?

[] Ask about the prince. Does he often invite strangers on a whim?

[] Ask about the history of their people. How did they first meet these other Caligini from the 'Shadow Caverns'?

[] Ask if there is a marketplace among the House of Inzenti

[] Write in

OOC: A bit of a short one, but I wanted to give you guys some chance to ask about the locals before you had to perform at a royal wedding. After all, there is no in character reason why you could not get something out of the guards.

 

[DragonParadox]

Of Tides Past​

8th of Lamashan 4707 A.R. (Absalom Reckoning)

Truth be told, the guards are a good bit more talkative than you had expected them to be, or perhaps Prince Cozut wasn't quite as sheltered compared to the rest of his people as you had first assumed if what are clearly warriors and hunters, marked with scars and trials, are this open to speaking of their people's relationship with... your own. It is still strange to think that there is an entire city of the People somewhere among the vaults of Nar Voth, alike onto Augustana or the other Burnlander cities you saw on the maps of the Inner Sea.

Not that your companions on the road can confirm just how large the dwelling of Queen Frilogarma's vassals is, since none of the azarketi have ever been there, for the road is harsh and dry, upon the Old Road and the New.

"The New Road's the road you took, the one the land dwellers built," the leader explains. "But the Old Road comes up under the sea through the Seke... not sure how you say it, it means the 'Land of Serpents', a cruel and wicked folk always seeking more slaves and sacrifices to their gods. The way I heard, things back before the kings, when priests alone lead the people and we still followed the Whalesong down from the North and back again, like our kin the Usena still do, there came a great sickness among the people called the Oilskin Death for the way the skin and then the flesh would flow off the bones of the sick."

Mina looks queasy at the words, but far too polite to interrupt. Hesitantly you put a hand on her shoulder to offer comfort and a reminder that this is all history lost-to-all-but-song.

The tale flows on: "The Tidesworn prayed to Gozreh and he was silent, but for the dance of the waters, the Wingseers raised their heads above the waves and tried to discern the wisdom of Ylimancha, but all they saw was her sorrow and the doom of the people, lo even the Stalwart Ones who give praise to Odisso could not endure forever and they gave themselves over to despair. Alone among the people, a wanderer-priest sworn to the Nameless One, descended into the labyrinth below cracks and crevices filled with vicious hungry things that would devour more than flesh, but in that place they left a rune entreating aid upon a stone that was wrapped in water for half the day and half the day open to the air of the under-lands. Another there was who had been sent that way by vision and prophecy, the Dancer Poimen. He knew of the sickness and its cure, the dust of certain mushrooms mixed with whale blubber..."

"They have whales down in caves?" Cob asks bemused. "I hear whales are really big."

The azarketi pause, as though it had never occurred to them to question that, but you think you have the answer. "Whale oil, they were using whale oil."

The captain nods along. "Anyway, the Dancer gifted the cure to the people and the sick were made well, enough of them at least that the House of Izenti would live on..."

"Gifted my ass," you hear one of the others mutter darkly, but you know better than to confront him when there's more to the learned from the tale at hand.

"Lo that they were weakened and few did not dare cross the narrow neck of sea into the great ocean then up to the perilous northern waters, so the people lingered near the shore and learned the hunting of smaller beasts, enough to fill hungry bellies through the winter and trade with along the Old Road flourished, for they had much need of the bounty of the waters and we of the bounty of the of the caverns. So it is that our people became traders and though some returned to the life of following the whales they did not do so for long. Three long generations after the opening of the Old Road the druid Hemero discovered and tamed Sourkelp, which did much to fill the bellies of the people, and two generations after that Imerstor First King lead us to victory against the Blodtooth, the children of the shark who would pray on us for our bounty. So it was that when the landwalkers came again to the shore of the sea in their scores and hundreds. We knew the ways of trade that would leave both content with the bargains..."

"And yet the Usena call us weak, harnessed and broken to the whims landwalkers," one of the younger riders says, tossing her kelp-green hair away from her face to scare off a small silverfish that had slipped behind her ear.

"Not so weak that they won't marry their Chief's daughter to our King's son," the captain counters, though there's an edge of resentment in that tone as well.

"What do they think of my people then?" you ask, not a little worried.

"To be honest, I don't think they have much of an opinion of your people," comes the answer after a moment's thought. "Trade flows between us still, but it is a smaller measure of our wealth than in the days before the rise of the shore folk of Andoran for we have spread far and wide, beyond that first settlement. Atop that, it is not as though the Usena spend too much of their time listening to our histories."

Ahead you see an encampment of perhaps a hundred dwellings wrought of pale limestone piled in rough cones with an entrance on top all festooned with banners of kelp in green, red, and most remarkable of all, golden-yellow that catches the sun as it streams through the water. Fish of hues and shapes as hard to to name as the birds in the sky dart about, unnoticed by the azarketi who swim among and above them.

The town seems to be perhaps three times the size of Cauldron, vast by the measure you had grown up with yet still dwarfed by Augustana perched upon the shore, and it is bursting at the seams with visitors. Dressed in dark leather kilts and sporting more weapons of stone and bone than trade-steel Usena still seem like fearsome warriors, their pale eyes turned to the sight of a squad mounted warriors leading four strange figures into the city.

"I don't think they like us," Mina whispers.

"They aren't liable to stab us though," you offer, having long learned the difference.

What do you do next?

[] You still have some gold, go to the market to see if there is anything interesting to buy or someone interested in Cob's reek armor in possession of something that catches his eye. One can only hope.

[] Find the prince, he is the only one you know is friendly around here

[] Listen for rumors and tales

OOC: One of the nice things about Pathfinder having a god under every rock is that one has plenty of room to make original pantheons for the societies that do not get a lot of attention. You won't be seeing a lot of 'these are boggards, they worship the God of Boggards TM' from this quest.

 

[DragonParadox]

Offerings of the Deep ​

8th of Lamashan 4707 A.R. (Absalom Reckoning)

Tumbled in the sand of the sea floor are three rune carved pillars, unlike the bare limestone of the rest of the settlement, in the mud that mark the borders of the market, not that most of the people actually selling things stick down below. Most of the actual hawking and bartering, whispering and rumor mongering starts about ten feet above the surface and then widens like a funnel. Locals and visitors twisting and turning around each other, almost as if in a dance, which the four of you do not even attempt to match... well other than Cob, but Gorok manages to grab him by the foot and pull him back before he can collide with a fish seller as you call up, voice muffled by the breathing mask.

As to the merchants themselves you notice the ones selling more fragile goods, keeping them wrapped up inside oiled pouches in an attempt to protect them to some extent from the bite of the ocean. Though of course gold does not need such protection and they still keep it close. Is it just custom, you wonder, or does it have something to do with the presence of the Usenas?

Unwrapped with eager smiles of a mercantile bent, shards of ships and pieces of history hang side by side, the flash of steel, the glitter of gold, the subtle hint of magic. There is the usual array of trickery and talismans to ward away misfortune, draw fortune or love that work in the mind of the wearer rather than in the world, though less in the way of alchemical concoctions than you are used to, as its hard to keep one's wears out of the water you'd guess.

Still, following the lure of true-woven enchantment you find two sellers whose wears are worth your while. The first is a grey haired elder half of three fingers on his left hand, Orneos Quarter Hand they call him, and in that hand he holds a cloak that unwraps like a dark blue banner. Apparently he used to don it on his journeys to the surface of the world in places that do not hold with 'gilled-folk', allowing him to take on the semblance of humankind. One gets the feeling while talking to him that he'd rather not sell it now, but needs the gold for some urgent cause.

The second offering is oddly enough from the local seller of knives, hatchets, axes, and daggers, a single edged blade curved and weighted towards the top, long enough that it would have to be held in two hands. The gold cat-pummel marks it as Taldan according to Mina, though given the long and wide ranging history of that land it's hard to tell when it had slipped beneath the waves. More importantly for your purposes though, swords make for poor weapons for one of the azarketi, all the more so one this long, so the knife-man is willing to trade it for a 'mere' one thousand one hundred and eighty eight golden sails... still most of your money and even after selling Gorok's axe, for he'd be the one most suited for it, would hardly make a dent in the cost.

Spoiler: Taldan Falchion

Description: This sword bears the head of a Taldan Lion upon its pummel and spelled out across its guard is an ancient proverb of the Empire: 'Fortune Favors the Bold'

Ability: +1 to Attack and Damage; counts as a Magic Weapon for the purposes of overcoming DR

"He can have the armor," Cob mumbles so indistinctly it takes you a moment to realize what he'd said.

"For the sword?" you ask, confused.

"For the talker cloak, so you can pretend to not be grey. Stupid humans, care too much about color of face," the goblin grumbles, but you can tell he means it just the same, that he had noticed the way you try to stay out of sight whenever you meet someone new. Would it even do much good, you wonder, after all your oddity is not like Mina's gift, which might be missed as simply a talent for language in most places. Mistrust hangs over you like a pal.

Cob Will Save (DC 10): 1d20+3 = 20 (Success)

Which of the two items do you buy?

Present Funds: 1,442 gp 5 sp 21 cp

[] Cloak of Human Guise (Cost 900 gp)
If acquired for Kori, Cob is willing to sell the Otyugh Hide for 1,200 gp

[] +1 Falchion (Cost 1,188 gp)

[] Take both, you can afford it

OOC: Rolls were all over the place this update, but hey Cob finally made that Will roll and he did it in an attempt to help Kori. The cloak will work for him as far as it goes, like the azarketi he is 'human' enough, but obviously it will do nothing about his curse.

 

[DragonParadox]

The Fated Shadow ​

8th of Lamashan 4707 A.R. (Absalom Reckoning)

"Thank you!" Impulsively, though certainly not quickly you reach out to hug Cob around the shoulders. Both of you had been on the receiving end of such things from Mina, but this is the first time you had initiated it. Still feels a little strange, nice though.

"You're a good..." he stops for a moment, digging though his knowledge of Taldan for some other word before giving up and switching to goblin. "Pickle sharer."

You make a mental note to give get him a barrel of pickles for the road when you head out east.

Putting on the cloak the better to keep is floating away you catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflection in the polished steel of the axe strapped to Gorok's back. There's a lot more pink to your cheeks and your eyes are closer to yellow green than the true gold of dark sight, but much like Mina when she veils herself in glamor you are still recognizably yourself. You let out a breath you hadn't known you had been holding. It's one thing to learn as you travel, exploring new vistas and new angles to look at the world, another thing altogether to become someone you are not just to be able to vanish into a crowd.

Spoiler: Akorian in Human Guise

Now at 554 gp 5 sp 21 cp

For now though, hardly anyone seems to notice the difference as everywhere there is talk of the northerners, their strange wares and odd customs, the kind of bubbling pot of rumors that only momentous occasions can bring. You listen with half an ear as the fellow you sold the armor to, 'the better to ward off sharks', mentions that the Chief of the Usena is going to offer a spiral shell full of black pearls to the king as a gift in one hand and that the northerners will get drunk on blood-wine in the other. Yet you see also with your own eyes that not all the rumors are false as a large band of Usena warriors swim in from the west, arrayed in bone and shell, surrounding a prodigious creature that seems half turtle, half crustacean, yet wholly itself and at one with the movement of the water, as though it is those common beasts that are but aspects of itself.

"That's one of the tojanida," Mina explains. "Envoys from the endless ocean, they are meant to be very talkative if you show them the proper respect, but they are very sensitive about their shape."

"What's wrong with their shape?" you ask, keeping your voice low. No reason to get into trouble from ignorance.

"From what Pepper tells me, that they have one at all. Long ago, during the Age of Creation they were servants of Lysianassa, Empress of the Torrent, before she was bound to the Gasping Pearl by the schemes of Kelizandri, called by some the Brackish Emperor. As she was shackled so too were the tojanida to shell and scales form incarnate. It is said that only by freeing her can they free themselves."

Spoiler: Tojanida

Mina Knowledge the Planes (DC 21): 1d20+11 = 27 (Success)

"That seems folly. Once Iruxi were eggs, but I would not wish to crawl back into the shell even if a egg so large could be found," Gorok answers thoughtfully. Time passes, water flows.

"Yes, exactly my scaled friend, that is what my father doesn't seem to understand, or doesn't want to!" It would be too much to say Prince Cozut managed to sneak up on you, but with his face covered and wearing none of the adornments you had seen on him last time, only a single golden coin, it is easy to mistake him for some other simple warrior. "What are those masks... creatures you're wearing? Nevermind, come away from here. Better to talk where it's not as noisy as waves against the shore."

Something tells you it's not the noise he is most worried about, but the chance of being overheard. And yet you are intrigued, a prince it not easily separated from his servants and surely not on a whim...

Akorian Sense Motive (DC 18): 1d20+12 = 24 (Success)

With only a curious Cob following along, the others stay behind with Warty.

The prince leads you east and a little south of the village to where an old shipwreck lies on its side covered in curtails of seaweed, though a lot tidier on the inside that you would expect. Waterlogged shelves had been nailed back together and arrayed with all manner of bric-à-brac: a steel hammerhead beside a colorful steel scroll-case, old boots atop tin cookware, a puzzle box of ivory and wood next to a coil of weighted rope that might have once been used to measure depth, now to the depths lost.

"There we are. I wanted to talk to you about..."

"Something secret?" you interrupt not unkindly, but making it very clear he is not as subtle as he thinks he is. Either that or or he's just more obvious to people who don't know him well.

"I knew our cousins were skilled at keeping secrets, I guess it did not occur to me that you'd be as good at sniffing them out as well." The young prince pauses, not so much looking for words as gathering the courage to say them. "I'm in love."

Even though you're pretty sure you haven't eaten any lead ballast this morning, but it sure feels that way "Not with your intended bride I would assume?"

"No!" He seems flustered. "Look there's nothing wrong with her, but no mortal can command love. Not even Sheylin herself can know where the petals cast from her hand might fall. I just... she's a landwalker like you, an Eagle Knight, Crysenthia Ravonge if you heard of her. She's very famous..." The boy looks up at you and then at Cob hopefully. Then when no answer is forthcoming he continues. "Look, I just need someone to convince father not to go through with this marriage, say it's cursed or something, everyone knows the shadow folk can read fate. Or maybe we can use a potion to make it look like I died and then you steal away my body and... "

"What do we get?" Cob scratches his ears in sheer bewilderment, like he can't quite make out the words. "If we help you, what pay?"

At this Prince Cozut slaps his forehead and says. "Ah right, I didn't tell you where I got the idea."

He takes out a small leather bag filled with gold and silver of ancient make as well as the the glimmer of a few gemstones like sapphire eyes peering up at you, but none of them call out to you so much as the pendant. Half of it is true silver, bright in eye and mind, half of it is druchite, darkness made substance, threading through each other in a tangle of veins, yet among them you can read the mark of a spindle split ended that you had seen but once before, not with eyes: The Spindle Solution. Like light on your skin you can feel the power in the pendant and know you can make it yours, that it was meant for you or one like you by whoever forged it long ago.

Akorian Lore Azlanti (DC 26): 1d20+9 = 28 (Success)

Catching your expression, how could he not, the prince grows bolder. "I found this a seven moon-faces ago and I got the feeling it was meant for one of our cousins in the shadow, and then I saw you and I figured you could... help me?"

What do you do?

[] Agree to help him escape his wedding (Gain 2500 gp and a Spindle Solution Pendant)
-[] Truthfully, foretell dark omens to the King should the wedding take place
-[] Lie and keep the pendant

[] Refuse, this is madness

[] Write in

OOC: So yeah... meet gender-swapped Ariel, just as vague on plans as the original but he has ancient treasures to bribe passing magicians with.

 

[DragonParadox]

A Tale of Two Worlds ​

8th of Lamashan 4707 A.R. (Absalom Reckoning)

Impassioned as the prince's words might be they leave you with questions, a lot of questions starting with the knight's feelings and ending with how likely this is to cause war. It's one thing to stain your hands with the blood of someone you can look in the eye and whose corpse one's planning to put to flame, quite another to leave sparks trailing in one's wake. That's just asking to be burned yourself and all you love right beside it.

"Three years past near the height of of Midsummer there was a battle on these waters between ships flying the red and black pendant of the House of Thrune for protection as they crossed near Andoran, though I knew not one from the other in those days save the tales of the elders, the breaking of the Arch and the gifting of the stone that was taken east of here to Almas. It was important they said that the western landwalkers not take over from the eastern, but I didn't know why. I had not heard the groans of the enslaved as they were forced to draw the oars, the snap of the whip. I dared not come too close and I hid my face from the gaze of the black-armored Hellknights had it not been for the other ships. Two there were, coming under cover of near moonless night and flying no flag but a piece of sail-cloth stained red. They slammed into the first and the second ship of the convoy, planning to take them by force of arms even if it cost them their own vessels. I did not know then but I do know now that they were anticipating an attack from these foul 'knights'... the Order of the Pyre they are called and they would have put all of them to flame for the attackers were all escaped slaves fighting their own small war against those who had enslaved them. The Lordship-that-Has-No-Lords in Almas would not send their own soldiers against them for their sympathy lay with them, but neither would they send a fleet to protect those who did not place themselves under Andoran law. So the Chelish sent their Pyre Knights to recover 'fugitives'... they did not seem to be running to me. They seemed to be doing a good job taking the first two ships and it seemed that the third would turn at bay and flee, but then the devils came, four of them."

The boy's sea-green eyes turn haunted as though, looking over some distant scene in his mind. "Furies, they were called beautiful and terrible and cruel on blood-feather wigs. They hurled curses in to the melee and the freedmen withered while the devil bound cheered, where they saw one who was bold and lead the defense they would snare them with black chains and pull them up, cut them open and then hurl them into the sea still bleeding. I couldn't save more than one, I couldn't... even if the devils and the Chelish didn't finish off the people in the water the sharks surely would, but I pulled the nearest one onto my steed and and swam south into the open sea as fast as it could carry us, away from the battle. It was only by chance and the help of a passing pod that I found land in time. She told me her name was Cysenthia and that she was of Andoran, she told me other things that she maybe shouldn't have because she was sick with fever and I a poor healer, that she was with the former slaves in secret and that she was supposed to have gotten a dispatch to Augustana..."

In the silence that follows his expression hardens. "I found her as beautiful then, sick and shivering, desperate to do her duty by her vows as I never did later. I am not some fool child being tricked by a pretty face. You asked what would happen if we do not ally with the Usena, if I do not marry the chief's daughter, nothing. Nothing important, the price of Whale blubber doesn't go down and Old Chief Rokus will just have to accept that he needs us to sell him steel even without his grandson on the Gold Coral Throne. Fighting the Chelish is important, keeping devils from doing... that to more people is important. If we pledge out spears to keeping slaver ships out of Aspo Bay then the First Elect will not hesitate as they have done of late. If I marry Hypolea then I will be in time king of a greater people, half of which want nothing to do with landwalkers beside trading the bounty of the sea for steel."

It's hard to guess the rightness of his judgment, but you have no doubt as to the depth of his passion, for his lady-love or for her cause. More to the very sharp point it's that cause that explains why Cozut had not just ran, or you guess swam away to be with his lady love. He plans to bring the Izentis into the fight against Chelish ships on the waters above.

While you are pondering this though Cob cuts to the heart of the matter. "Why do they need more steel, who're they fighting?"

"The sahuagin, the shark-folk press them. They come and go like a bloody tide, depending on the richness of the deep waters and how many warriors spawn from their creches. They they are as sharks themselves and not just with their enemies. If there are too many warriors for their home waters to carry they are sent to claim more near the coast. This time it was where the Usena range. Will you help me, will you help us, please?"

Akorian Sense Motive (DC 20): 1d20+12 = 29 (Success)

You sigh, running a hand over your face throwing the hood back in frustration. It does not take the keenest of eyes to tell he's being dismissive of the fight he cannot see. No matter if the Northerners would have accepted trading steel over a marriage alliance previously that does not mean their pride would take the agreement being voided at the last moment with gritted teeth rather than anger. After all an ally who broke a promise once might do so again and some might count aid untrustworthy worse than no aid at all. "I don't suppose you've tried persuading your father that your way is right?"

"Not about Cysenthia, but about attacking slavers yes, he said the Government in Almas isn't looking for war and we would only pay lives in service of a hopeless cause," he all but spits the last of the words.

What do you do?

[] Agree to help him escape his wedding (Gain 2500 gp and a Spindle Solution Pendant)
-[] Truthfully, foretell dark omens to the King should the wedding take place
-[] Lie and keep the pendant

[] Refuse, this is madness

[] Cob tries to persuade him that he can do both, become king and then turn his attention to the Chelish

[] Write in

OOC: Yes, one of your options is to have the Charisma 8 Goblin do diplomacy, but at least he isn't actively cursed when attempting it.

 

[DragonParadox]

Of the Living ​

8th of Lamashan 4707 A.R. (Absalom Reckoning)

A better reason than you gave the boy credit for, and a better prize than you had any reason to hope for. Why not try to get something out of a lifetime of poisoned looks?

Reaching out a hand in the burnlander manner, then turning it into as much of a bow as the tangles of this new cloak will allow, the words come smoothly to the tongue. "If you're to be the king than on your head be it, for better or for worse."

"No need to start already," the prince offers a wan smile.

"That's not prophecy, true or false, it is stating the obvious. If you wed the Usena girl and hate her for it, that bitterness will be the seed of your reign."

Cozut's expression darkens, though before he can answer Cob hands him both of the knives you had prepared for wedding gifts. "If things go good you won't marry. If things go bad you'll need knives."

Gained 2,500 Gold -> Now at 3,014 gp 5 sp 21 cp

Best knife exchange you ever made. Now, what kind of curse would be so dreadful as to break off the wedding, but not so dire that it would not come to blood? A lack of offspring maybe? Or too many of them and too willful that they will rip the two peoples' apart in war? So distracted are you with plots and questions that your hand brushes against the pendant without meaning to. It's like the hall of stone, a thing of the old world. The Dead... No sooner had the thought crossed your mind that a thousand voices speak as one. They do not whisper, do not rasp, so close they seem that you might be able to reach out tour hand and brush against theirs, a thousand voices more than ten thousand years gone:

Do not stand
By our grave, and weep.
We are not there,
In waters deep
We do not sleep—

In your mind's eye you see men and women with olive-gold skin and dark eyes, like the ones you had glimpsed in the message, but somehow prouder and more sorrowful. Filled at once with bitterness and with resolve as they sing under skies grey as vaults of slate as pyres burn among the crashing sea.

We are a thousand winds that blow
We are the currents swirling low
We are the sunlight on ripened grain,
We are the gentle, autumn rain.
As you awake with morning's hush,
We are the swift, up-flinging rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight,
Beyond dark clouds, transcending night.

They weep and weep until they have tears do more, until dry-eyed they look to the east where the sun is naught but a lightening of the haze over withering lands and yet they live, and yet they sing:

Do not stand by our grave, and cry—
We are not there, we did not die.

Choose One (1) Occult Mystery Revelation which will be linked to the pendant:

[] Automatic Writing (Su): Once per day, you can spend a full hour in uninterrupted meditation. During this period, your hands produce mysterious writing that pertains to the future. At 1st level, the prophetic writing manifests as an augury spell with 90% effectiveness. At 5th level, the writing takes the form of a divination spell with 90% effectiveness. At 8th level, the writing manifests as a casting of commune with no material component required.

[] Brain Drain (Su): You can take a standard action to violently probe the mind of a single intelligent enemy within 100 feet. The target receives a Will save to negate the effect and immediately knows the source of this harmful mental prying. Those who fail this save are wracked with pain, and take 1d4 points of damage per oracle level you possess. After successfully attacking with this ability, you can use a full-round action to sort through the jumble of stolen thoughts and memories and then attempt a single Knowledge check using the victim's skill bonus. The randomly stolen thoughts remain in your mind for a number of rounds equal to your Charisma modifier. Treat the knowledge gained as if you had used detect thoughts. This is a mind-affecting effect. You can use this ability once per day at 1st level, plus 1 use per day at 5th level, and 1 use for every 5 levels beyond 5th.

[] Ectoplasmic Armor (Su): You can conjure armor made of ectoplasm that grants you a +4 armor bonus to AC. In addition, this armor functions as if it had the ghost touch special ability. At 7th level and every 4 levels thereafter, the armor bonus increases by 2. You can use this armor for 1 hour per day per oracle level. This duration does not need to be consecutive, but it must be spent in 1-hour increments.

[] Phantom Touch (Su): As a standard action, you can perform a melee touch attack that causes a living creature to become shaken. This ability lasts for a number of rounds equal to 1/2 your oracle level (minimum 1 round). You can use this ability a number of times per day equal to 3 + your Charisma modifier. At 5th level, the target instead becomes frightened, and at 7th level, the target becomes panicked.

[] Spectral Spells (Su): You gain Ectoplasmic Spell as a bonus feat. In addition, once per day, you can cast a spell with the Ectoplasmic Spell metamagic feat as a standard action that does not increase the level of the spell. You can use this ability one additional time per day at 7th level and every 4 levels thereafter.

[] Voice of the Grave (Su): You can use speak with dead, as the spell, for a number of rounds per day equal to your oracle level. These rounds do not need to be consecutive. At 5th level and every 5 levels thereafter, the dead creature takes a cumulative –2 penalty on its Will save to resist this effect.

OOC: The original Poem which I did my poor best to adapt to the needs of this story is Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep, by Clare Harner.

 

[DragonParadox]

Sinuous Strides ​

8th of Lamashan 4707 A.R. (Absalom Reckoning)

The voices fade from hearing, though they do not to silence fall, only a wordless whisper of a song that makes the hand twitch, that you might set verses to it once more. And yet you are not distracted as you return to the busy waters of the town, the port of sorts called Arkentos, for it above all other things is a stop over in the trade with Augustana. In that sense holding the wedding here is its own message on the part of the king, one you are about to burn with acid... at least hopefully.

"Kori, what's with all the gold? What did he want with you and Cob?" Mina asks.

"Goblin," you answer, a touch more cryptically than you had meant to. It is not like the small shoal of youngsters playing with some kind of inflated bladder are going to both know the tongue of the People and carry your words to the king, but caution keeps poison off your lips.

Mina looks to Cob and asks the same question, coming out in the short staccato tones of the goblin tongue.

"He wanted an ill prophecy so that he might have the freedom of his lover's arms and war against the Chalish instead of joining the Usena against their foes to the north..." As you give your account Mina nods along until it comes to the name of the knight Prince Cozut had given his heart to.

"Ravonge... that's odd, that sounds like an old name. Maybe... no, I'm sure of it, that is an old Taldan name. West Verduan, which means Andoran aristocratic, the kinds of families that used to be lords and ladies before the People's Revolt. It would make sense for one of their scions to join the Eagle Knights for the prestige of it and maybe even take on dangerous missions to prove their loyalty to the new regime, but at the same time sweet blood does not mix with the sour, as they say in Ardis, so a noble would seek noble to wed. Perhaps one of the sea is good enough."

Mina Knowledge (Nobility): 1d20+13 = 27 (Success)

Once you might have been entirely bewildered by the declaration, now you know enough to have at least an inkling of how the shadow of the self-proclaimed Infernal Empire falls over these waters bitter foes and would be supplicants all swarming about. Still, her motives matter little to you at the moment. You have a prophecy to declare...

The thought surges unpleasantly into your throat like half chewed food as you look towards the north. Among the scared warriors of the Usena you see a pair of beasts, sinuous and impossibility long, coil upon coil twisting blue-green, their horn-crowned heads along six feet long, their eyes the yellow of coins lost in the sand, and atop each one a northerner wearing shells glittering silver around their necks, an old man and a young woman.

Looks like you found Chief Rokus, he does not look nearly as old as you expected, and his daughter... she does not seem the sort to take bad news on her wedding day well.

"Big Snakes...?" Cob half-asks in awe.

A passing fisherman, now made server at the royal table, who had taken the chance to stop and look upon the foreign royals, helpfully informs you those are dragons.

The Usena chiefs draw their legitimacy from being able to saddle the vicious sea drakes of the northern Arcadian Ocean. It does not really ease your worries to hear there is as much sly bargaining as spear dancing in the bargain according to rumors. All in all you would have preferred done without the option to feed you to a fifteen foot long beast, but if they must have such creatures under them you'd rather they were short of wit or lacking courage. Alas, neither seem to be the case.

What words of doom do you proclaim upon the union of Izentis and Usena?

[] Plague, plays into the role of your people in old Izenti legends you heard

[] Strife, plays into the fears of the moment, the dark side of the alliance, the hope is that it does not play too well

[] Famine, simple straightforward and feared by all, though likely the local priests will try to reassure the people

[] The World-Breaker, you had been called that once before, maybe you can use it

[] Write in

OOC: You guys failed a bunch of checks for identifying that sea serpent, but then it occurred to me that its riders would have made its power known as far as they could since it made them seem all the more fearsome. Also, any association with the Linnorm Kings, who must kill the beasts for which they are named, may not be coincidental, but one would be wise not to point that out to the Usena themselves.

 

[DragonParadox]

Visions of Iron ​

8th of Lamashan 4707 A.R. (Absalom Reckoning)

No ink is there to set to parchment, but there are stones about, flat limestone sheets pale by conjured light, already writ with the shells of small shelled things, spirals that catch and turn the eye inwards on their own. Cob lends his clever tool, Mina her prayers for all that Desna might or might not hear a voice so deep, and Gorok his protection, and you are lost to the subtle voices. This union, should it come to pass, what sorrows what tragedies will it lead to?

The hand flies tracing the lines in the stone, then other lines unseen that do not seem to you willfully carved, but revealed, nonsense symbols into ominous script rephrased:

Beneath the moon's blind gaze, the ocean churns,
The bloody veil lifted for peace the hydra spurns
Lo! Ships like shadows glide in unheard woe,
Amidst the whispers of the depths below.

The waves, once peaceful, now bear the weight...

War there shall be, but whose war is that? Doubtless the waters have seen as much strife as the land, the salt on your tongue as much from blood as tears. Give me a name, you beg and a name appears before you, but not one you had wished for, four cruel jagged lines giving shape to a broken mountain sheathing a broken sword. Blood drips onto the chisel...

Of vessels armed for a cruel fate,
Masts like splinters in Gorum's hide of iron,
By the dozen pierce the midnight air.
Star dipped in pitch, far-off candles burn.

"Give me a fucking name!" you curse the hand that writes, the voices far off that inspire it. In that moment black hopelessness overcomes you, a winding sheet for those still living, made silent witness even as the dead speak.

The day shall be when breath is heavier than steel
Where rose-stems break, when turns slow wheel
The the eagle burns, under the moon's blind gaze
With broken bronze the realm uncaring pays

Blood falls, first drops, then rivulets, defusing and swirling in the water. It's in those patterns, gone in a blink that you see the signs, not in any tongue that you can read, yet somehow made to be carved upon stone:

Spoiler: A Name

Automatic Writing (DC 10): 1d100 = 12 (Success)

As you finally straighten from the work, a crick in your neck from sitting stiff as a corpse other than motions of the hand Mina looks over your shoulder and reads. "That's draconic... Sonthonax."

"A kobold's name?" you ask, briefly bemused before your brain wholly catches up with your tongue. "No, a dragon's."

Cob looks over towards the sea serpents coiled around the base of the royal residence in the heart of the city. "Think we should ask what they're called? Maybe shout?"

"That did not sound like you were foretelling doom to the sea-folk," Mina offers to which Gorok do your surprise gives a kind of approving click.

"If you had found just what you had sought," he explains, "I'd wonder if we had been tricked with a bottle of sap-glazed whispers."

"But what do we have then? A battle on the surface, so a battle between 'landwalkers' that will only happen as the verses described if the wedding goes ahead. A burning eagle would mean... Andoran loses?" It us hard to keep track of symbols and flags when then things upon them are so strange to you.

Mina shakes her head almost angrily, at herself you would guess. "Bronze could be Brigh, creativity and invention broken by war. Certainly we've seen a lot of that in Augustana."

That does not feel right, writing it out line by line, did not feel like reaching out to distant powers, above or below. If anything it felt like being trapped in place by webs of fate.

Mina Knowledge Arcana (DC 20): 1d20+12 = 13 (Critical Failure)

Akorian Wisdom(DC 5): 1d20 = 8 (Success)

What do you do?

[] Fortell, truthfully a military defeat for Andoran, which may have some impact on the Izenti but would mean nothing to the Usena

[] Keep to the original 'borrowed prophecy' of the World-Breaker

[] Write in

OOC: This time I did not borrow any verse... as can be seen by the time it took me to write it.

 

[DragonParadox]

By Days Divided ​

8th of Lamashan 4707 A.R. (Absalom Reckoning)

Crossed spears bar your way as you walk towards the center of Arkentos, their tips swept back like the wings of seabirds, their points worryingly sharp. You do not stop walking until they are almost under your chin. "Oh..." you glance down as if you had somehow failed to notice both them and the Inzenti warriors holding them. "I bear grave tidings for the rulers of mine kin of the deep waters."

"Tidings from who? From what stranger?" the warrior to your right snaps, a woman from her triple braided hair, not loose like those of the men.

"From those who have no name nor need of one, from shadows rushing into being, from the fallen who might yet be spared if we are swift." Gill slits are not amenable to having the breath caught in one's throat, but you can see the flash of pink at the side of her neck that marks an in-drawn breath. Such as one might need for a fight, you are reminded but your face is as un-carved stone, free of aught to read upon it but what the reader brings.

For the other guard that seems to be a dread of the uncanny and unknown, of which you are all too familiar and in this hour all too willing to learn.

"You claim to serve the Nameless One?" he asks, a tremble in his voice.

"That you think there is only One who would refuse to be so circled by the tongues of mortals... I envy you."

The guards no longer bar your way.

***​

At first sight the king and chief could not seem less alike and still be of one people: Chief Rokus broad and scarred storm-grey hair covering not just his head, but his chest as well trailing down his limbs until you wonder if there is a touch of bear or seal to him and King Grypus, slim and narrow-shouldered, bearing no weapon but a staff topped with a six-pointed star that stirs an echo of familiarity, in dream or memory. Yet the closer you look at them the more you notice the cunning gleam reflected in both eyes, the prize of long years lived under the sea. Here too you meet the young prince again and from the look his father gives him you had been recognized as his guest for better or for worse and... petting her sea snake the Usena princess, Arokea, trying and failing to hide her interest at so strange a visitor in company yet stranger.

"Know ye king beneath the southern waters that ill shall befall the shorefolk of Andoran if Prince Cozut is to be bound to bold Aranea, know yet Chief of the far travelers who follow the whalesong that little steel shall you gain from that for it shall be turned to the flesh of other foes." So shocked are they to hear the words without bow or greeting that none move to stop you as you recite the prophecy, first verse to the last:

"...The the eagle burns, under the moon's blind gaze
With broken bronze the realm uncaring pays"​

Akorian Intimidate (DC 25/30/33): 1d20+15+2 (Enhanced Diplomacy) = 34 (Full Success)

"When? When will this evil come to pass?" King Grypus asks, thunder in his voice, enough that you would take a pace back and Gorok to reach for the new blade the guards had not thought to ask he set aside.

"Within seven arcs sun-arcs, dawns, days," you scramble for an answer, finding a new word in the Old Tongue in the process which your People have not had cause to use for lives uncounted.

Alas for the peace of the hour the king is not the only one who can make himself heard. Chief Rokus rises to his full height, then kicks off such that he is looking down at you from almost the lip of the entryway. "What madness is this? To listen to a vagabond who will not name his mother nor his father, alone and late in this hour!" he turns to look up at where the odd-jawed head of the Tojanida peeks over the lip of stone and asks, struggling against himself: "Holy Wanax, what do you make of this?"

When it comes the answer is softer, slower than you had expected, more than he had as well: "There is a touch of destiny to him, dark but not of his own will. If there is malice in this meeting it is not turned against you and yours."

Tojanida Judgement: 1d20+14 (DC 20) = 28 (Success)

To your surprise it is neither leader who speaks next but the princess Arokea: "Seven days... seven days is very little to change the fate of whole peoples, under the sea or over it. I am not so proud as to think that I can do such a thing." She turns to you and asks: "Seer, is the fact that we are to be wed that clouds your vision or the wedding itself? Some urgent call for aid from these 'Andorans' ignored amidst celebration?"

Tis then you realize she might have the right of it, but to admit it would be to betray Cozut who had paid for a frightful prophecy not necessarily a truthful one.

What do you do?

[] Agree that it is likely the timing of the wedding, not the joining itself, that would bring the doom you saw. After all, you did try and it is not as if the prince can ask back for payment he can't admit to have given you.

[] Deny it, an ill omen over the marriage should it take place (Opposed Bluff Check)

OOC: I hope this does not feel rushed. I decided to make it one intimidate roll to see how far you got to shout the prophecy at people and you got full success so the answer was 'all the way'.