[PF] Pathfinder Anyone? IC

[IamL]

The six of you sit around your campfire, high in the Hortok Mountains. You are bound for Nesdul, the capital of Kalam.

Kalam is a vast kingdom, stretching across almost the entire continent of G'Lop, with colonies and influences across the entire world. Naturally, being but experts at your various trades, you go there not to seek council with the King, but rather at the request of a minor noble, Baron Lifres.

The Hortok Mountains stretch across a third of the continent, and they sit exactly on the latitudinal center of the continent. You're currently two thirds of the way up a nameless mountain face, due to the fact that the Thresdul Pass got blocked up by snow.

It's the dead of winter, and it's a miracle you were able to light the fire in these conditions, but you'll take what you can get.

Nesdul is about five days to the north, in a lush valley between the rainforest and the mountain range.

And it is then that a carrier pigeon, struggling against the mountain gales, makes its way to your campfire and, seeing you, falls exhausted on the ground. A letter is tied to its left claw.

[Valik Sparks]

It's half past the twilight hour. The sky is dark, the only proof of a moon in the sky is the silver haze faintly glowing through the dusty clouds that snuff out the would-be light. There's a lot of snuffing going on. This cold, winter air. It's thick. Clings to the inside of my nose. I can barely breathe. But I bet I can breathe better than the breathless Baron who summoned me to this faraway kingdom. The man's so tousled he's called for six seasoned experts in varying trades to come help him out. I'm convinced he doesn't anyone more than me, but hey, it's his money, and I won't look a gift horse in the mouth. I'd have to find a mirror to do that.

So here I find myself, trekking across the big old 'ol Hortoks. And in this cold, all I see is barren. But not the Baron I'm looking for.

"Heh..." Knelt down on all four of her legs, a thick, scratchy, green wool blanket thrown over her rather large lower half, Celty is huddled close to the fire, using its light to write in her journal. Her very extra special all-important Detective's Journal. She was grinning widely as she wrote fast and furious, eyes locked on the parchment, looking way to pleased with herself.



Things must be pretty hot is Nesdul. I'll bet things are heating up faster than the kindling at the bottom of this fire pit. sparks are flying faster than that bird trying to get out of this cold

Celty stopped suddenly, blinking as she watched the carrier pigeon lurch and sway on the wind, descending, and then...falling onto the ground right next to her? Her ears perked up and concern flashed across her face. She quickly bent over and scooped the pigeon in her hands. "Oh my goodness...you poor thing. What are you doing all the way out..." Her gaze caught the letter tied to its foot. "...here." She gently removed the letter, and then proceeded to rather quickly open it up and peruse the contents, leaning towards the fire for the extra light as she analyzed every word.

[Athaleon]

Nirallus shivered miserably in the cold, sitting so close to the fire his front was unbearably hot, and his back just as frozen. He had two dozen tricks of deception and subterfuge at his disposal, but in his pampered courtly life, he'd never learned any spell to keep the cold away. He could if he'd had more preparation time, but he'd been hurried out the door with unseemly speed. He wondered bitterly if someone was trying to get rid of him.

The arrival of the carrier pigeon was a welcome distraction. "Well, don't keep us in suspense. What does it say?"

[aetherialDawn]

"Agreed, I'd like to know. There's the chance it's meant for us - and to find us out here in the mountains probably means someone cast a spell to make certain it'd arrive."
Atiras frowns at the half-frozen pigeon. He murmurs to himself and pulls a rough, thin cloth from midair with a flourish, and wraps it around the pigeon, tying a knot into it with magical precision to capture some extra warmth. "There... That should help."

That done, Atiras... fidgets a bit, resisting the strong urge to just walk over and start rudely reading over Celty's shoulder. It's cold enough for everyone without him moving the snow around though; even with the fire, there's a small circle of bare earth indeed in this weather.


Prestidigitation once to create a crude, artificial, and fragile object for one hour - just a piece of cloth. Prestidigitation again to warm the cloth for one hour once it's wrapped around the pigeon. Poor thing.

[Eldon4]

Oreck says nothing. He just sits in the cold and watches Celty for any reaction to the letter and to see if she tries to hide anything once she finally reveals what it says.

perception
[roll0]

sense motive
[roll1]

[IamL]

The warm cloth helps the pigeon, who is able to scuttle nearest to the group.

The letter is sealed with red wax, with a cryptic symbol inscribed into it: that of a thick, full-faced, armoured mask.

Make a Perception check if you're actively observing the letter.

[Valik Sparks]

Celty narrows her eyes, peering in a most scrutinizing manner down at the letter, her tongue unconsciously pushing its way out of the corner of her mouth as she wracks her brain for anything that could help to decipher the meaning of this strange symbol.

[roll0]

She then carefully pries the wax seal off the parchment, careful not to damage the insignia, and opens the letter to read its full contents.

[IamL]

You recognize the symbol from somewhere before, but you can't quite put your thumb on where it was. But you do recognize it as bad news, and get a +2 bonus on the following saves and any knowledge checks you make to figure out what the seal means.

A puff of smoke is released from the letter as a strange green gas flows from it.

Everybody roll Reflex saves, then a Fortitude save.

[Eldon4]

Oreck warily huddles back

reflex
[roll0]

fortitude
[roll1]

and immune to poison if it applies

[Athaleon]

Nirallus recoiled from the cloud, stumbling back and covering his mouth with his sleeve. Hopefully he was fast enough...


Reflex:[roll0]
Fortitude: [roll1]

[Valik Sparks]

"EEK!"

Celty lurches back, turning her head sharply away from the smoke pouring out of the envelope. Somehow, she has the forethought to grab the seal and rip it off, clinging tightly to it as she leans down, shoves a chunk of snow aside with her arm, and drops the envelope into the small pit, quickly covering it back over with snow.

She opens her palm to examine the seal, searching the library of her mind for anything she may have seen or heard that could tell her about this nefarious symbol.




Reflex: [roll0]

Fortitude: [roll1]

Knowledge (?*): [roll2] *if Dungeoneering, add another +3

[aetherialDawn]

Atiras swiftly backs away, trying to cough out any air and get away before taking a new breath - also sparing a glance around to see if anyone else has been caught too badly. He's already reaching for his pack just in case.

Reflex:[roll0]
Fortitude:[roll1]

[IamL]

As the gas dissipates, you see that everybody save Nirallus is okay. Nirallus, was, unfortunately neither quick enough to evade the gas nor sturdy enough to fight off the toxin, and he falls to the ground, writhing in agony, unable to speak.


2 Constitution damage and 2 Wisdom damage, and roll me another Fortitude save.

[aetherialDawn]

Reaching into his pack, a small vial of some transparent, faintly-blue liquid seems to practically leap into Atiras' hand, from there to be offered to - or if necessary, poured for - the unfortunate wizard. "Here - can you drink this before it can get worse? ... And can anyone else help with the pain? ... And why, exactly, would someone poison a letter?"

(The vial is just Antitoxin from the Handy Haversack. It'll give a +5 on any saves against poison for the next hour.)

[Eldon4]

"I think that's a question for our detective friend over there." Oreck says as he knods to the horse. He would like to help poor Nirallus, but he doesn't know how to cure poison.

[Xunthrae]

Liro quickly moved out of the way of the poisonous fog. His reaction knocks him out of his thoughts and brings him back into the moment. He looks around their camp, and out of their own circle. While the rest are paying attention to the fallen wizard, Liro checks to see if anyone is approaching with the distraction of their fallen ally.


[roll[1d20+6[/roll]
(i'll just make it in OOC now)

[IamL]

Liro sees a hooded figure dressed in a white cloak approaching through the snow, making no attempt to conceal himself.

Nirallus valiantly struggles, but the poison continues to progress. All he can feel is white-hot agony as he screams and writhes on the ground, his condition getting exponentially worse.

At this point, anybody reasonably trained in the study of toxins has seen enough to figure out what the poison is.

You could roll Heal, Knowledge(Religion), Knowledge(Arcana), Knowledge(The Planes), or Survival to identify the poison.


3 con and 3 wis damage. Roll me another Fortitude save.

[Eldon4]

Disturbed by the sight of the writhing wizard, Oreck looks away and notices the man in the white cloak. "who are you?" he asks as he stands to block the mans path to the camp.

[IamL]

The man answers in a grim voice.

"I am your beginning."

[Eldon4]

"your gonna have to be more specific than that" Oreck growls back

Intimidate
[roll0]

Sense motive
[roll1]

[IamL]

Oreck cannot figure anything out about the man

The man speaks cryptically, unfazed by your attempts to scare him.


"Adventurer, you ask my name, yet many names have I,
The swift, the sly, the forsaken, the proud, descended from on high
The bold, the mighty, the all-knowing, he who comes when destiny is nigh
The Creator, the Destroyer, the Ouroboros, whereby
Man might live another day beneath the holy sky.

Adventurer, you ask my name, yet many names have I,
The Warden of Life, the Defender of Truth, the Ancient, and the Spry,
The bearer of the holy flame, the Presbytery-Eye,
The wise, the sage, the Thrice-Forgotten, the first to death defy
Adventurer, you ask my name, yet many names have I."


With those words, he disappears, appearing again in front of Nirallus, placing his right index finger on his breastbone. The healing energy radiates from it, and Nirallus can feel the venom dissipating, starting in his heart and radiating outwards.

The hooded figure then nods.

"My task is done for now, children of fate."

He disappears, leaving a sheet of paper behind.

When Nirallus stands, he feels...different.

Those of you who look at him see that his eyes are a cool, dark, whirling silver.

[Valik Sparks]

Celty gazed, awestruck by the man in white, and his rather dramatic appearance... As soon as he started speaking, she quickly popped open her journal once more and wrote down every word he said. When he was done speaking, she slowly closed the journal, staring as the man bent down to offer...healing? Who was he? Did he help them? Was Nirallus healed? Or was it some kind of trick...? Why? How? She squinted, furrowing her brow...but she couldn't help but smile.

Finally. Finally! A real, live mystery! An adventure. This was what she had been waiting for...

Pushing herself upright with ease, on her four, strong legs, Celty, stilling cradling the pigeon in one arm, tucked away her journal and moved briskly over to Nirallus. She cocked her head as she looked into his eyes. "Are you...feeling alright, Nirallus?"

Glancing downward, she stooped to retrieve the piece of paper that the mysterious figure had left behind, and she quickly swept her gaze over its contents.

[aetherialDawn]

Atiras slowly stands, watching the figure. As realization dawns, he frowns... even looks angry. He walks up to the paper - beaten by Celty, but this time pressing forwards to view its contents, less careless of this than he was of the original letter.

"A prophecy? Fate, at least. I hate fate. But at least this seems... benevolent." The sorcerer draws out "I" and "hate" - as if the words alone do not fully encompass the depth of his distaste, and he knows it. His words do soften after, though.

He looks at Nirallus with... somewhat uncharacteristic suspicion, which softens into care after a few moments. "... Yes, that. Your eyes are changed; does everything else, at least, feel alright? I've other medicines, but I suspect anything that's still wrong is beyond those..."

[IamL]

The paper reads, in a silvery text,

"Don't trust Baron Lifres. I cannot explain now, but it is crucial that you keep wary of him. Do what he says, but make sure you don't ever trust him. Stay wary, and beware the mask."

In lieu of a signature, an ornate silver draconic ouroboros circling a red and blue Um/Yang symbol is written at the bottom.

[Athaleon]

Nirallus was stunned for a long moment. As he slowly got back up, he had some trouble finding his words for a while.

"That poison... it had to be the Dark Ichor. Unlikely as it sounds, any other explanation would make even less sense. And our visitor removed it with no apparent difficulty. Just what in the nine hells have we gotten ourselves into?"

[Eldon4]

Oreck snort and thinks to himself As if we weren't going to be wary already.

[aetherialDawn]

"We've gotten ourselves entangled in some sort of larger plan as chess pieces, is what seems to have happened. Ugh. ... Well, if we're not to trust the Baron, but also not to act against him, let us do the same for mysterious messages. I say we give the Baron a chance and some investigation, even if we refuse to trust him fully."

[Valik Sparks]

Celty looked to Atiras and nodded. She pinched the brim of her hat in two fingers, tilting it down as she squinted her eyes and furrowed her brow thoughtfully.

"Never trust fully. And never fully distrust."

She released her hat, snapping her fingers as she did so, and turned, gazing off into the horizon. She smiled a very pleased smile to herself. That line was perfect. Yessss. Without looking back, she spoke up once more. "I don't think we're ready to continue resting after that incident. We might as well trek on a little further, get closer to our goal, and see if we can't find a better shelter to make camp." Easy for her to say, having a magic ring that let her easily live on 2-4 hours of sleep a day. A detective's work knows no bedtime!

[Eldon4]

Oreck just nods as he pulls his cloak tighter and gets ready to set out again.

[Athaleon]

Nirallus sighs heavily. "Let's get away from here. Whoever sent that poisoned letter obviously knew exactly where to send that bird. And we should take more care to keep our camp hidden." Which meant going without even the rudimentary comfort of a fire. Damn it all.

[Xunthrae]

Liro nods in agreement, his hand now resting on the hilt of his scimitar. He didn't like getting mixed up with gods and powerful beings, but it seems there is no choice but to go along it it.

[IamL]

When you journey about three hours or so more, you find a small cave that would shelter you from the blizzard, although it would be fairly cramped.

[Eldon4]

Oreck looks about the cave to find the warmest most protect spot and then signals for Nirallus to take it because he is not convinced the wizard has fully recovered from the poison. "Take this area Nirallus"

Survival to find best spot
[roll0]

[Valik Sparks]

Celty looked at the cave, standing outside for a long moment as she grimaced, a little nervously. It was... small. And she was one of the largest members of the party. She bit her lower lip, feeling a little guilty, and headed inside. She stayed towards the entrance, squeezing against the side wall as she knelt down and laid her large, quadrupedal body against the cold, stony ground.

Her ears flicked back and forth as she looked over her shoulder, hoping the rest would fit Ok. People usually... didn't like to be too close to her. When traveling, or in shops, she was always given a wide birth. She was used to it by now.. She was strange. Unnatural. An aberration, even. She was used to the perplexed, disgusted, and frightful looks thrown her way. And now these travelers were forced to share a cramped space with her unsightly form... She wholly expected them to keep their distance, but that wouldn't be very possible in this cave. And it only added to her guilt as she laid her upper half down as well, curled up into herself a little, trying to just fall asleep and forget about it.

[Athaleon]

Nirallus numbly proceeds to the proffered spot and retrieves his bedroll. He collapses on it as soon as he has a blanket over himself, and is dozing in no time. The day's events have worn him right out, body and mind.

[Eldon4]

After everyone is inside Oreck takes a blanket and stretches it across the opening to make a wind break. He then pins it in place with pitons.

[IamL]

You sleep fairly well; though Nirallus' spot is a little bit shoddy, and it is frigid out, you manage to sleep without too much trouble.

In the morning, you tread onwards towards the capital, walking on a precarious, steep, thin path that leads first up the mountain, then intersects with a large road in a few days' time that will lead you to the great city of Nesdul.

Can I have a marching order as well as Climb and Perception checks? (A Survival check is optional, DC 15 to give a +2 bonus on both Climb and Perception, if failed, gives a -1 to both.)

[Valik Sparks]

Celty volunteered to take up the rear as they began to climb the steep path...

Her reasoning was that, with four legs, she's rather stable, and if someone slips and bumps into her, she won't lose her footing as well as others might. On the other hand, if she were to be in front of someone, and accidentally slipped... well, they might not be able to handle 950 pounds of Centaur...

[Eldon4]

Oreck takes the lead feeling confident in his ability to climb any difficult patches and his ability to see impending danger. He also thinks he can help others finish getting past hard points if need be.

[IamL]

Everybody makes it okay, save for Nirallus, who stumbles and falls down twice on particularly dicey segments of the trail, narrowly avoiding death both times by casting his Fly spells, barely able to maneuver back up to the group through the howling storm.

It is nightfall, and you've just stopped for the night and are about halfway to the intersection with the road when Oreck and Celty notice a bloody ice axe laying half-buried in the blizzard's snow, and barely-visible footprints with drips of blood around them leading to the right of the trail.

[Valik Sparks]

Celty stiffened, staring at the axe in the snow, her gaze slowly following the faint blood trail. She blinked once. What...happened? Is someone hurt? Or...did someone...die?

Part of her was brimming with excitement at the prospect of a murder mystery...but at the same time, a tingling of fear crept up her spine. This wasn't a daydream, a story, a hypothetical situation... this was real. And someone could really be dead... It could be dangerous.

Quickly rolling her shoulders and tipping her hat low, Celty brushed aside her fear by putting her mind to work. Analyzing, processing, absorbing. She points out the axe.

"There." Moving towards it, she continued. "See it? Something happened here... These are footprints. And.. blood." Stooping down, Celty places two fingers gently onto the snow, near one of the faint footprints. Her ears twitch, and she looks up, squinting off in the direction they seem to lead. "I'm going to see how far the trail goes... I won't go out of earshot."

And with that, Celty attempts to follow the trail, her tail swishing lightly behind her as she keeps her head low and adjusts her coat collars. Just to look cool.

[Eldon4]

Oreck watches as Celty follows the trail, then shrugs and helps set up a camp for the night. No use being cold and hungry while we wait for the danger to show up.

[aetherialDawn]

Atiras watches as Celty all-but-charges ahead, and nods to Nirallus. "Here, I can help with that."

He starts unpacking all the things a camp needs - his tent and bedroll, a heatstone for warmth in the deep cold of the blizzard, cooking gear... and a map to try and figure out how much longer this mountain journey is likely to take. All the while, he keeps listening for the sound of an errant centaur slipping somewhere dangerous, or calling out for help.

[Athaleon]

Nirallus sits and broods, his troubled mind racing in futile circles. No way this was a coincidence. Shouldn't have let the centaur go off alone, no one should go off by themselves in the wilderness, never mind the current circumstances. He, or someone else should have gone with her, or they should all have moved together.

Flipping through his spellbook, he tries to find anything that might be of help. In the meantime, he sends his Raven familiar out to look over her discreetly, and report back immediately if she is attacked.

[IamL]

Despite your best efforts, the howling blizzard drowns out most sound and all you can hear after about thirty seconds is the whipping, biting wind.

You follow the track for around twenty minutes before seeing a prone figure in a gray cloak, now stained red, lying on the ground, two arrows through his abdomen and an axe wound across his head and neck. Further examination finds the man to be breathing, barely.

[Eldon4]

When the camp is ready Oreck sits quietly near the fire facing the direction that Celty ran off to.

[IamL]

Anybody trying to start the fire, make a Survival check. I'll take the highest result and treat the others as aid another checks.

[aetherialDawn]

Atiras simply takes his heatstone and smacks in against a rock; it starts to warm up immediately, the dense, alchemically-treated glass releasing heat without any smoke or more than a dim glow of light.

[Valik Sparks]

The sight stopped Celty dead in her tracks. And the morbid irony of that was not lost on her. Dead...? She stared for a long moment, before quickly shaking her head to break herself out of her stupor, and then hurrying over and kneeling down beside the body.

He.. he was still breathing??

Celty's eyes went wide, and she quickly grabbed the man from under his arms, hoisting him upright and dragging his body up and onto her back. With most of her gear left behind at the campsite, she was well able to carry the large, bleeding figure, and she put her four legs into high-gear, galloping back towards the campsite. As soon as it was visible she started waving her arms frantically and shouting.


"Hey! HEY! I need help! This man needs help! He's hurt bad! Hurry!!"

[aetherialDawn]

Atiras jerks his head to face the source of the yelling, standing on instinct and then having to bend over again to grab his pack in the confusion.

"What does he need? Just bleeding?"

He's already shuffling through his pack... His own confusion great enough that it isn't totally clear what is on top at first. It's only after a few more moments, when he's managed to get his thoughts back together from the sudden surprise, that Atiras smacks his forehead and pulls out a slender rod of almost-black wood with golden designs, and touches it to the wounded, not-yet-dead man.

DC 20 Use Magic Device roll to try and use my wand of Cure Light Wounds: [roll0]

If it fails, and anyone else wants to take the wand to help, just ask and Atiras will hand it over/drop it as a free action (free or move action for you to take it depending on interpretation; in either case, you can use it in the same round.)
If you CAN use Use Magic Device, there's thus no harm in trying.

[IamL]

Even after the paladin attempts to heal him, his life seems to fade before you rapidly, the healing just seeming to give him a burst of energy to speak.

"Beware the Ouroboros. Double-"

And then, he relaxes, lying dead in your arms.

[Athaleon]

"That poisoned letter had the mark of the Ouroboros. The stranger who healed the poison called himself, among other things, the Ouroboros. And now this poor body tells us with his dying breath to beware of the Ouroboros. Wonderful. What are we to make of all this, then?"

Was the dead man about to call the powerful stranger a double crosser? A double agent? Was he and his party caught up in opposing conspiracies? Was that poisoned letter actually meant for someone else? With nothing else to go on, his mind was grinding as furiously and futilely as a mill with no grist.

[Valik Sparks]

Beware the Ouroboros... What did it mean? A clue.. a mystery. I'll have to keep my eyes and ears open.. Have to be wary. Can't miss anything... This is it. This is what I've been waiting for...

...but what exactly am I getting myself into?


Taking a few steps back, Celty gazed down at the body... now nothing but a lifeless corpse. She looked away, pursing her lips. That poor man.. Did he deserve the death he got? Did anyone really deserve a punishment so final? Celty had never really been exposed much to violence and death outside of the books she read and stories she heard. It was...quite different when viewed from her very own eyes. It left her with no words, and she sullenly moved away, setting up her things and making herself a place to lie down for the night.

[Eldon4]

Oreck sits quietly thinking to himself Great more cryptic warnings, can't someone just be straight forward with whats going on? Oh well , I suppose it doesn't change anything at the moment. He then finds a good place to sit watch for awhile.

[IamL]

The grim winds howl throughout the night, and you wake up after an uneasy night's sleep.

You make your way to the main road just as it is approaching dusk, having made very good progress. You are now about a day and a half from your destination.

It's a warm night in the valley, but a blood moon hangs over the horizon, a bad omen, and the air is humid and heavy.

[Athaleon]

Nirallus was unable to keep from fretting in the light of the bloody moon, no matter how much he wanted to dismiss it as superstition. The muggy weather wasn't helping his mood at all. He regularly sent his familiar out ahead of the group, and looked around at random intervals in case he might spot something.