The Swallowfeld Children (IC)

[Mornings]

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Part I: Seven Arrows
Main Quest: The Witch of Undercity
Difficulty: (3) Medium | Reward: (2) Low | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (0) None
Raph'æl has gone into hiding. At his summons you have returned to the great city of Seven-Arrows. In search of the elusive Bechal Rossfield, Raph'æl's contemporary enemy and bitter rival - you set off in search of the faceless Witch of Undercity; Gal'bertel S'Sisery. While no one knows what S'Sisery looks like, it is no mystery as to where he dwells: Now each of you make for Romere's Tower, a heavily guarded mechanical-wonder which wandered about thickly crowded Lantern District. Possessing within it the only gate into Undercity. The Warren Trading Company closely manages all traffic in and out of the gate. Entering would prove no problem, but emerging from the city again would be another matter entirely...

Neth the 3rd, Oathday - 4:30 PM / AR 4732
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
District: Low-Castle; - Outside Vornheim



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They found themselves returning to the city from places both far and foreign. Traveling through the Mushfens had become somewhat tolerable in recent years, as patrols were formed and roads paved. Caravans traveling from The City of Monuments from the west, or Korvosa to the east both met in Seven-Arrows. A highway of trade and travel which cut through the once inhospitable lands. A heavy cloud blotted out the city from far - only visible was the grey billowing veil which cloaked it. A mixture of ash, smog and the warmth of steaming engines colliding with the frigid air. Since Venra's Eye had taken over Conquer's Bay, the weather had shifted dramatically. The once humid region become deathly cold - the moisture in the air became like knives carried by the seaward breeze. It could chill any man, and even kill the reckless or unprepared at night. Looking at the city from the north, the light seemed to bend and deflect, casting ominous pink and red hues from the Primal Storm which turned and spun out at sea.

It did not matter from which direction travelers came. The spanning metropolis was a vast and complicated city of intermingling districts, towns and cities within. Tiered and leveled, it was perhaps the strangest bastion of civilization within The Inner Sea. One enough to rival even Kaer Maga. No one knew how Raph'æl fabricated the town - how it was built, or even when. It was as much a mystery to those who lived there as it was to the world. Never before had such a city existed, except perhaps in the tales of Ancient Thassilon during its Golden Age. Born seemingly over-night, and in the time of man's greatest need, The City of Disquiet, as it was called, was filled with unexplained wonders - few of which seemed of this world. The Keepers, a Guild emerging during recent years, were dedicated to exploring and uncovering the mysteries of the city and the Primal Storms, documenting their work and providing answers to the mysteries they solved. They were what The Pathfinder's once were, before The Shattered Crusade. Now The Society stood as the last defense against The Runelords and the coming enemies which threatened to annihilate life from the surface of Golarion, a second time.

The city stood as a level of cities, stacked upon each other in a strange and circular citadel of intermingling societies and peoples. Home to over 890,000 citizens, Seven-Arrows was the largest known settlement in the world. The power which The House of Common and Lords wielded together united Varisia from a loose band of city-states into a nation capable of defending itself should the tragedy of SandPoint unfold a second time. The Society's Chroniclers and core still operated within it's ancestral home in Absalom, but the sword of The Pathfinder Society, its operational arm, resided in equal distribution within Seven-Arrows, Magnimar, and Korvosa. The Three Cities trained constantly to maintain a readied posture to combat any new threat which it may face - prepared for war. Seven-Arrows spanned nearly half of the Mushfens, touching the edge of Conquer's Bay. It's lowest level, The District of Low-Castle was a massive wall of mixed stone and skymetal alloy, forming the bricks which surrounded the great city. Spanning nearly 270,000 feet in length, the wall of Low-Castle wrapped around the city, after running close to 50 miles in parapets and defensive fixtures, before crashing into The District of High-Castle. The massive town of soldiers and adventurer's who came into employment as guardsmen and servicemen sustained service and trade within Low-Castle without any outside intervention. Craftsmen, namely stonemasons, were always at work tending to the wall while other men and women skilled in construction and the employment of siege weaponry saw to reinforcing the outer-most wall. The only entrance into the city was through both Low-Castle and High-Castle. From the east and west, great bridges extended across massive motes, capable of allowing passage for thousands of visitors and merchants at a time without any discomfort. Two great statures, cloaked and armed with weapons the size of towers stood carved into the gateways on either side of Low-Castle's gates. Much like the bridges, it was no mystery that these Goliath-figures would spring to life and combat any would-be enemy with unfettered fury.



[The Returning Heros: Xiaomiao/Mason/ Stredexon]


Now. After a long travel, a group of well known faces enters the gates of Low-Castle - The soldier's know them well. They are Pathfinders. The strongest warriors in the land - Or, so they say. The respect and awe once held for The Society has begun to diminish, and the youth of the new age look at them with the eyes of contempt. Nothing more then relics of some bygone age. In an age of peace, their purpose has seemingly passed. The older and wiser know this is not the case - they remember well the horrors visited upon them. The veterans of The Crusade of six years past still hold their heads high with pride and honor The Society's new champions - but such is all but forgotten to those born during the crusade. A history lesson half-listened to. The prattling of old men. It meant nothing to the common-man. The achievements of Vosper were real - this city, the might wielded by one man, it was all tangible, but to the eyes of those who'd not lived before The Crusade, the purpose of The Pathfinders had come and gone.

A caravan had come in with them. A train of 20 heavy wagons baring the seal of Lord D'Aritel, Lord Mayor of Magnimar. After The Crusade, Magnimar entered a period of great political strife ending with an explosive conclusion, in a Coup De'etat. Civil war filled the streets of The Capital District and Alabaster for nearly five-days. The former Lord-Mayor Haldmeer Grobaras was imprisoned and cast from his office. His various crimes were revealed after a conspiracy which withheld Magnimarian soldiers, and Pathfinders, from supporting the war-effort came to light after The Crusade's conclusion. An enraged population and inflamed House of Lords was too much for Mayor Grobaras to contain, and it exploded in his face, nearly killing him. Grobaras is still serving his 30 year sentence within the dark cells of The Irespan.

A number of familiar faces could be seen in the crowd of 50 or so people. A tug in your left hand directs you to two-others. Pathfinders, much like yourself. The Magnimarian traders poured through the gate with wagons, steeds and creates full of wares from the city. A number of adventurer's and less reputable shady figures mingled with the crowd. Soldiers from the ramparts hollered and hooted from above with cheers at the returning Pathfinders. The experienced soldiers wore battle-scarred armor with the crest of SandPoint Citadel branded into their armor, or baring an original guardsmen crest hammered into their curiass or shields. The cries quickly died as an outlandishly dressed Varisian gypsy rode through the gate. Her cloths were colorful in the traditional Varisian fashion. Wearing a brightly colored veil sitting back atop her head, but not shrouding her features. A small scar across one eye and charming vibrant features. She wore two translucent swords on her side and carried what appeared to be a narrow adamantine anvil attached to a solid, but short shaft. Far too heavy for a man to carry, and far too large to be called a weapon... By what trick she managed to carry such an absurd instrument was anyone's guess. She had a sour disposition, ruining an otherwise beautiful face, and though it was the first time any of them had seen the Varisian woman who rode into Low-Castle atop of flaming black horse, they knew who she was. Proprietor of The Dawnhammer, a traveling tavern and theatre, Mayli Artel. Men spoke in hushed voices of her, though she was quite popular in Magnimar and Inner Vornheim. The Dervish of Desna was supposed to have died some 15 years ago by all accounts. In the east, in Taldor she had fought to defend the peoples against a yet-explained demonic scourge erupting from the earth - an event that would be considered kosher in The World Wound, but unheard of so far from the bleak-pit. She was buried in Absalom, a day of memorial dedicated to her sacrifice - and the rest passed to history. Yet in recent years, she had seemingly returned... or at least some figure which bore her likeness and name. There was no explanation to be found. Her Nightmare carried her off into High-Castle and eventually into Vornheim, the hush of the crowd died away as she left, questions running through their mind, searching for answers - A ghost? A god? Or a fake?

There was an answer... But all were too afraid to find it. A fear perpetuated by the thought - the answer may fight them. The Demonic Siege of Oppara was not something to be spoken of. An event looked away from in Varisia, a piece of history ignored, because it just just far away enough to hold at length and claim blissful ignorance. Something, someone, was tearing down world they thought they knew around them. Defining their own rules, rewritting everything they thought they knew. Golarion was changing. It was a thought far too frightful to face. If such a thing could happen in Taldor.... could it not happen in Varisia? Of course not. Not in the minds of its people. Not to them... And not to Seven-Arrows. They looked to one another, the mark upon each Pathfinder's hand seemed to pull to one another. Those who did not wear gloves were easily distinguishable.

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Side Quest: The Dawnhammer
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (4) High | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (0) None
The Champion of Desna has returned. After her death in Oppara the implications of her resurrection and appearance in Varisia has disturbed and unsettled the minds of its citizens. Is she real? A ghost? A fake? No one knows this, nor how or why she has returned. The truth of this mystery may threaten every soul within Seven-Arrows. Mayli Artel's location is known to just about anyone who resides within the city. A theatre and tavern within The Commons known as The Dawnhammer.


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[The Hero of Sky: Mac Lir]



High above in the sky, the city appeared as a massive labyrinth of tiers and stone. Winding sprawling cities laced within circular walls and strange defensive structures of animated stone and metal. Like an egg's shell protectively shielding the interior city from the world about it. The thick billowing smoke and mist cloaked the sky. He knew he could go no further. The defensive fortifications which defended the city above would obliterate his flying vehicle before he could even jump from its burning wreckage. He stood, arms crossed watching the sight of High-Castle come into clear view. The Docksman, with his stupid black hat, stood at upon the Sky-Landing looking out as his ship made its final approach. He could hear one of his crewhand's call out, "CAPTAIN! BEGINNING OUR FINAL APPROACH!" The large tower in the center of High-Castle pierced the castle-town like a great spear cast from some skyborn god. Two other airships sat docked upon the Sky-Landing. One usually never left, but The Queen-Anne's Revenge was very rarely seen in dock. Cayden Paradise, the ship's captain was a ruthless and feared sky-pirate. He operated with the blessing and endorsement of The Warren Trading Co. even outside Varisia as a corsair. Raiding or destroying any assets, persons or transports which did not align with Warren Trading's interests. A cold and notoriously brutal man with an equally brutal crew. The bones of past enemies hung from chains from their fore-mast, torn black sails waving ominously above. Unlike other ships. The Queen Anne had no source of flight, none which was known. It appeared as a massive seafaring gallion-warship which had been lifted from the water and outfitted with 50 guns. A flying terror thought to not exist outside the sea. Mar Lir and Paradise had an unspoken agreement or sorts, as the only two individuals with airships in all of Varisia, the third owned by The Free Hands and not an individual. Paradise didn't meddle in the smuggler's affairs and he didn't meddle in his. The rest, was simply business.

A strange, nameless girl sat upon the ship's side looking at Captain Lir as his ship shook once, as it completed its docking and was anchored to the Sky-Landing. He'd seen her before, a short pale skinned girl with silver hair. Her eyes were a glassy red and her cloths were made of some kind of slick plastic'y material he'd never seen before. He'd heard a few things about her, some Numerian Paradise had found during one of his ventures and taken a liking to. Now she was his Quartermaster, a decision not easily made with a crew of professional killers and the like. Women were moving some cargo from off the ship, blade-scarred chests and barrels of heavy contents. They worn dark cloths, covered with dried bloody stains. Black tattoos and marks covered their arms and some of their faces masking the scars of battle. Heavy blades and finely maintained firearms seemed to be the staple as they were strapped to hips and legs excessive number. One of the women wore a heavy looking double-breasted jacked with four bandoleers, holding 6 weighty looking pistols. She wasn't tattooed like the other women, tall and covered in scars, missing an eye and left with a split lip. The black cloth wrapped about her face gave her the appearance of a more traditional pirate, eye-patch and all. The ship's First-Mate, Demona Caldern. The Queen Anne had no male crew, aside from her captain, but Caldern was a piece of work - even among criminals. A notorious murderer, brigand, thief, and arsonist. Caldern had been captured in Andoran after a 5 year murder-spree which claimed 28 men, 21 women and 55 children. She was recorded as the nations most successful and notorious serial killer in its history - and in most nations for that matter. With an appetite for the murder and torture of young-adults and children, the reputation of the popularly named Toothfairy, became common knowledge. She collected a tooth from each of her young victims, tieing it to the end of the lanyard of her famous knife. A knife she still wore strapped to her back. The clatter of teeth made the fey cringe. Paradise had freed the lunatic from her appointment on death-row for no other reason then to add her to his motley crew - it was as if The Queen Anne's crew were Paradise's collection or sorts. A gathering of the greatest scum and villainy he could salvage from the world - all under one roof. Men in well tailored, matching working slacks and leather vests came unto the Landing and begun bringing the supplies to the large shaft which transported persons down into High-Castle. Demona leaned against the ship and looked on at the new arrivals. "Oh my. My favorite fairy has arrived." She clicked her tongue suggestively. For whatever reason, Caldern had a certain fondness for him, one he measured up as somehow relating to being called The Toothfairy, and his fey origins. She quite frequently expressed her desire to murder his crew, burn his ship, and bring him aboard The Queen Anne as her plaything... Their relationship was, very unproductive, if not somewhat volatile - she was an individual best kept at arms length. Least his neutrality with Paradise go up in smoke.

A scurrying motion stole his attention as The Docksman, a familiar man named Freddrick Nagye came stumbling out and unto his ship, without so much as a word for permission to board. The man hugged the fey in an evidently desperate embrace. He knew the man, but they were hardly close - business associates. "Mac! Mac! Mac'y Boy! I'm so glad you're back! " He peeled himself off and immediately produced a small chest, a locked metal flask-of-a-box only 4 inches long and an inch deep. "I got myself into some trouble, Mac. It's bad - real bad. I can't tell you with who... but lets just say, I made the wrong people mad. Happens all the time, right? But not like this! I need you, Mac! I need a professional! Just take the box.... take this too." He slid out a bag from his red coat and dumped it in his hand. A bag full of platinum coins. "That's 3,000 worth of gold. Right now. And another 30,000 gold for you, and each of your friends when you get the job done. Sounds good, right? Can't pass that up, right? " The main was obviously, painfully desperate - desperate men meant trouble. "Take the box. Find Gril Peters over in The Lantern District - he'll pay you. Just take it and run. Don't stop. Don't stop for anything. People are after this thing, and they don't need to know who's holding it to find it. They'll find you - but trust me, Mac. You can't fight 'em. You can't win. You just gotta keep going - gotta out run 'em and deliver the goods. I'll even put in a good word for ya with The Big Boss. You know Mr. Warren doesn't forget a debt, ya' gotta help, you just gotta! "


Looking at Freddrick groveling for him to run his box into Vornheim for him gave him a strange itch in the back of his mind he couldn't shake. It wasn't very far from The Sky-Landing. He didn't know what kind of trouble Fred got himself into, but whatever it was.... It couldn't have been good. In fact - he knew it had to be bad, very bad, if he was willing to pay out that much cash for a 10 minute run. He looked down at the small metal box, it had no lid, no key hole, and seemingly no way to open it. It was only marked with a strange seal, a black looking sword pointed downward. He knew that mark... The Black Brand. People disappeared when they played with things with this seal. You didn't find out why. You never found out how. They were just gone. They never came back. He looked down from the Landing into the city which dwelt beyond High-Castle, the interor of Seven Arrows, know as Vornheim. A congregation of cities divided between Inner and Outer Vornheim. The city had a distinctly Tian feel to it, at least the finer parts of Outer Vornheim did.

He had a very-very bad feeling about this one.


[The Hero From Afar: Kourin Alekk Mak Esh]


He had traveled long, perhaps far too long... His hands shook, his vision cloudy. He'd flown nearly without pause from the outskirts of the Sanos Forest. The clouded massive sprawling metropolis lingered at the edge of his vision for so long, it seemed as if it had not grown any closer. Now. Finally, he came upon the city from the sky. The thick clouds and smog obscured his sight. The venture had taken a number of hard traveled days, only breaking due to exhaustion... The massive walls of Low-Castled loomed below - the sight of a large caravan entering the fortress-town was visible below. A tugging in his hand seemed to draw his attention to the gathering upon the ground, but he'd no time for that... He flew on to High-Castle. The massive tower of Sky-Landing slowly coming into a clear view. With a sudden jolt, his great vulture reeled up and landed upon the large aerial dock. It was the only method by which to land within the city - and not be gunned down. The three airships around him drew a measure of curiosity which overwhelmed his fatigue. He did not know the captain of the black-sailed ship, nor its occupants, but he could tell without a doubt they were both criminals and bad news. The former meant very little in a city of criminals, but the later was much less common. The shouts from aboard the deck closest to him revealed a familiar face - a Pathfinder... His hand tugged yet again, this time in the direction of the familiar face. A man seemed to be pleading something to the dark-creature known as Mac Lir. In this city, that was usually the first sight of brewing trouble.

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Side Quest: Run Like Hell (Mythic)
Difficulty: (5) Extreme | Reward: (5) Unique | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
Freddrick Nagye has sought you out and is desperately pleading for you to take his employment to transport a small metal box of unknown origins. It is marked with The Black Brand, a seal only recognized by the criminal society, and inspires fear and dread in even the most hardened of crooks. Caring a Black Brand is as good as death to any man. No one knows what happens to those which have carried a Branded item, but they are never seen again. Be it standing on a stage, within a crowded room, or within a sealed vault. Something comes, and something spirits away the victims for eternity while reclaiming the marked object. It's only a short travel to Inner Vornheim, and the pay is good - but looking down at the box... You have a very bad feeling about this job.
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[The Heros Of Low-Castle: La'Min / Therin]




Work within Low-Castle was typically pleasant. The old soldiers, groomed the young ones to take their place. Teaching them of combat, and history. Respect for The Pathfinders was always high here. A society which remembered their past, and the threats of the future. The inns and taverns were always lively, the merchants always helpful, and plenty of cheer to go around. Therin's racial disposition as a Ratfolk was of no consequence, nor was La'Min's as a Rabbitfolk - but within Vornheim, they viewed such races with scorn and cruel notions. The open and often hostile racism which plagued the common-folk of Outer Vornheim was well known - the rich Tian culture which defined the city also created with it a number of distinct and unyielding world-views. Each city within Seven-Arrows held its own customs, dress and way of speaking - but the unwelcome gestures of the refined peoples within the high parts of the inner-city were often very cruel to those of less common origins. Here in Low-Castle, or High-Castle, men were not so vain. They could see the merit of character and judge others by that character, not the color of their skin.

The various interlocking buildings, known as The Bazaar of Steel was one of the finest gatherings of craftsmen in the whole of Seven-Arrows. Sons sent rich and pompous children to The Steel in hopes of learning a trade from a master craftsmen. The sheer volume of skill gathered in one place rivaled any other. Though the Bazaar was not so much a place of trade as it was of practice and commissioned works. Almost any handicraft could be found within the great mish-mash of schools and craft guilds. La'Min had taken to learning from Mistress Roslin, formerly a Taldorian Knight - she had turned to the arts and in crafting strange and wondrous creations of fortune and luck. Therin had worked on furthering his skill with developing alchemic items and even weapons. There were many such alchemists that had helped him in developing his craft - but the most influential had been a woman by the name if Candice Sterling. Sometimes she would appear in Low-Castle for a week or so before vanishing again. She was an older woman in her late 40s, with a soft voice and hard leathery hands. Therin had the lingering suspicion that she had some long standing occupation with less-then-savory individuals. While she specialized in poisons and healing items, she knew how to create dreadfully potent creations of a likeness he'd never seen before. Smoke pellets that could flood a floor with smog. Flash powder that could blind permanently. Ice that could not melt. She was a savant of alchemic weapons, and had become something of a mentor to him - though he suspected these gifts were employed in taking the lives of others, he didn't pry further for fear of pushing the woman away.

The Pathfinder's gathered out side The Steel to watch the caravan come into town, many of the craftsmen from The Bazaar of Steel were now returning from Magnimar with a great many supplies in tow. The seal upon their hands pulled and tugged in the direction of the familiar faces about them. A great number of Pathfinders had seemingly returned to Seven-Arrows - a number of familiar seals visible upon the hands of those who arrived.




Something had been set into motion. Though they could not know what, yet. It was evident - This world was changing. The things once known had begun to erode away and somewhere within Seven-Arrows lay the beginnings of the truth which would guide them to that revelation, and in time, to face it. A loud, deafening series of bells run out ever the entirety of the city. Drowning every corner, reaching into every shadow. Somewhere, someone died - shot in the back of the head. The bullet silenced by the familiar cacophony of The Great Knell. They all looked out far to the steel hands which reached out from the earth to the sky from Inner Vornheim. This was Seven-Arrows at 4:30...

This was The City of Disquiet.




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[Triskavanski]

Therin on this particular day was busy with his craft, the little ratfolk was constantly tinkering with his weapons and alchemical devices. He ended up getting a new toy not too long ago. A strange little device with two spikets that would funnel two different liquids into a small glass bottle. The experiment today was to combine a vial of acid with a vial of alchemist fire. A rather dangerous and volatile combination meant to inflict the maximum possible damage. Within moments of the two vials being attached to the contraption the bells began ringing.

"Bloody hell, what now? Can'tcha see I'm workin here!" the ratfolk grumps waving a fist towards the direction of the bells. Waiting for a moment, "Though, if its somethin, could be a reward involved. Gonna have ta give them a right one-four if this isn't nothing ta do with rewards or testin out somethin's"

Working to unhook the vials from the hybridization funnel, he stuffs them into his bandoleer and the funnel and bottle back into his bag of holding, before wandering out of the Bazaar of Steel, he blinked glancing around, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun as he took a bit to readjust to being outside. Flipping his hood up, the ratfolk began to scurry down the path trying to find a location where he could find out more of what was going on. Treasure was out there, and he was going to find it.

[Tacitus]

With a grunt of effort the massive reptilian heaved himself down off the massive vulture and landed with an oddly subdued whump and an extended rustling of cloth. The faintest hint of buzzing insects floated around him as ghostly wisps of flying cockroaches and flies could be seen flitting about before diving out of sight. Without the rush of air around them to carry away the smell the vulture's stench began to waft up around them and Alekk rather immediately began hoping for a bath. His eyes were unfocused from the long ride and the shakes were starting to set in, but he was well aware of the various cures he had in his pack should it become too much of a problem to deal with. He flexed his muscles, akashic power flowing through his body to reinforce his frame and augment his speed. Flickers of shadow danced around his feet and sparks of light danced from his fingertips as he stroked the mottled bald head of his vulture and cooed to it nonsensically.

He flexed his fingers as a sensation rose in his hand as though one of the bones within was trying to leap from his flesh and he turned his gaze to the recently docked airship. He allowed a brief smile to quirk his lips, but set them back into a passive expression more fitting of the criminal metropolis. He flipped the reigns over the bird's head and used them as a lead as he approached the airship, the vulture already complaining and ready to settle down to a nap rather than be led around the Sky-Landing. As he approached the bustling airship he kept out of the way of comings and goings and did not presume to board without permissions. Instead he called out to Mac Lir, "Hail! I mean not to interrupt, but permission to come aboard from an old colleague?"

If the fatigue of riding is actually enough to cause a stat debuff, he'll down a potion of lesser restoration.

Veils: Capacity 2 [+1 for one] DCs 11+E+Int. 11 Essence Total.
[2] Riven Darts: X darts that deal 1d4+Xd4, no more than 2 darts per target. 20ft Ranged Touch as Standard
[0] Pestilence Cloak: 20% Miss Chance vs Range and Melee, Will Disbelief DC [16], Fly Clumsy 5+5Xft
[2] Ditchdigger Armlets: Full Round Act to create 10x10 difficult terrain, deals 1d6+Xd6 damage. 1d4 round cooldown
[1] Stalker's Tabi: +2+2X Acrobatics&Stealth

Feats:
[1] Akashic Augmentation: Chose a power. Cost is -X, only applies to Augments, can't reduce extra cost below 1. Can't invest more than power level
-Power Selected: Natural Healing

Racial:
[2] Speed: +10ft*X land speed.
[2] Natural Armor: +X Natural Armor
[1] Spines: Two 1d4 Spine attacks as primary natural weapons. Every odd after 1 adds +1 Enhancement

Charged Items:
[0] Wand of Lesser Restoration
[0] Wand of Cure Light Wounds
[0] Wand of Invisibility

[forg99rules]

He stood there contemplating whether it was worth the risk and trouble that came with the Job. He knew that if he completed it then he would have enough money to finish outfitting his ship and could also afford better food for the crew. Then there was the fact that he was known for taking slightly insane jobs and always completing them, Maybe this was why Freddrick came to him. He thought hard about it and decided that the Pay and the Debt he would get out of it deemed the job to be one worth the risk.

"This is going to difficult on my own, Man where is good help when you need it."

Standing there contemplating the job He heard someone call out to come aboard, He looked over wondering who it could be and was happy to see his colleague & friend Alekk standing there waiting to come onto his ship.


"Alekk good to see you, your always welcome on my ship. Let my crew stow your bird and come over here I have a job that I could use someones help with."

[Tacitus]

Alekk smiles warmly for a moment before a loud 'Waaaark!' from beside him causes his to tug on the reins and his stoic expression returns as he begins walking up the gangplank. He brings two fingers of his free hand to his temples in an odd salute to his fellow Pathfinder and lowers his voice to a more conversational tone, "And for that I am in your debt. I'm not bad on the back of the bird while we're in flight, but he's a bloody fright while having to handle him on the ground." As he speaks, however, a strange pulse echoes within Mac Lir's own head. It does not seem like a mental assault, but a soft pressure that resonates from the same point on his head as the place where Alekk touched his temple. Once on deck he'll hand off the reins of the great bird to whomever comes to take hold of the reigns, "Bloody thing doesn't seem to understand it doesn't need to eat with that ring I got it either, so I'm just glad to still have all my fingers." The mental ping resonates again as Alekk looks over the man Mac was talking to, punctuating the word private, "And here I thought we'd have a private conversation, but no matter. Who is your friend here, then?"

[Felyndiira]

“Daddy!”

The girl was trotting up the twisting mountain path as if walking atop an open road. She was no more than four years of age – wearing a loosely-fitting set of tunics and woolen pants along with a pair of plain hempen shoes. Though the girl didn’t look like a noble of any sort, she was well-known within Wudang mountains as the princess of the Tianmen Sect – her father, along with six others – occupy the coveted position of righteous sect leader, and enjoy a sort of status both in Wudang and in the nearby Quain kingdom as masters without peer, equally magnanimous as they are devoted to their arts.

“Daddy! I’m back!” she shouted a second time, waving to a middle-aged man sitting at the gate of the first training yard, who waved

“Ah, Xiaomiao! You are early today. What manner of spirit has possessed you, to be so excited about training with your old man?”

The girl made a face at her father. In her hands, she was clutching a pair of crudely made wooden figures.

“Daddy, Lusong came over again. We told him he couldn’t play with us ‘cuz his sect is a demon cult, but he kept on saying that we’re wrong and that he would prove to us that his daddy is right.”

“Oh?” The man had a thoughtful expression on his face. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him that demons aren’t welcome to play with us righteous kids, and that he would have to get through us if he wanted to corrupt our younger brothers!” The girl smirked, as if she had accomplished something great and is immensely proud of himself. “Xiarong and Meiwu told him this too, but Lusong got angry and told us that we are just exclusioning him because our daddies hate his daddy. Xiarong tried to beat him up, but he wasn't strong enough! Lusong got real mad and knocked Xiarong down and tried to hit Meiwu and me too!”

“And?”

“And…and I saved everyone! I used my Sanyu Strike like you taught me, daddy, and vanquished Lusong just like that. He fell down and coughed blood in one punch! He was real mad and said I would be sorry, but then Xiarong’s daddy came out and told him to never bother us again.” The girl beamed for a moment, then opened her hands and displayed the wooden figures before her father. “Lusong dropped these too when he ran. I think one of them was the demon founder of the Moon and Stars Cult but I don’t know. He dropped more too, but Xiarong and Meiwu took most of them. Do you know what these are, daddy?”

The middle-aged man grabbed one of the figures. He seemed to be in deep thought for a moment; then, handing the figure back to his daughter, he replied in a somber tone. “Xiaomiao, my daughter, do you know about the demon hunt of three centuries past?”

“Of course! There isn’t a single person who doesn’t know that! That’s when my great-great-great-grandpa and the great-great-great-grandpas of the other kids went and protected Quain from a massive dragon-demon from the far-away lands! Daddy, is this a history test? You know that I spend three whole hours a day on my studies!”

“No, daughter. Well…when your great-great-great-grandfather…no, during the founding of our Wudang mountains, the ancestors of our seven righteous clans weren’t the only ones there. There were actually twelve masters, and Lusong’s ancestor – the patriarch of the Moon and Stars Sect…”

“Then, daddy, are you saying that Lusong was not a demon? Was I wrong to have beaten him up like that?” The girl stared inquisitively at her father, as if ready to burst into tears. Her father stared at the wooden carving for a moment; then, putting it away, he lightly patted his daughter’s head and gave her an approving smile.

“No, Xiaomiao. What you did was correct. You were brave to have protected the other kids against Lusong.”

“I promise that I’ll make you proud, dad. I’ll train hard and be the best martial artist in the world, and have all of Quain bow to our sect, and even Xiarong’s family will be jealous of us. And Lusong will never dare to hurt any of our junior brothers ever again.”

The girl seemed to be mumbling. Slumped alone in the back of a wagon made for five, she had a rather silly expression on her face – her mouth was transfixed permanently into a wide grin as a visible trail of drool trickled down her chin, landing slowly on her garments. The girl was obviously not from any part of the Inner Sea regions; she had yellow skin, jet-black hair that hung loosely into an undrawn red hood, and a particularly ovular face that clashed with the more angular countenances of the city. She had a rather slender body marred by a small number of scars, though it remained hidden as she clutched her travelling bag before her chest, as if it was some sort of a stuffed animal for a child half her age.

“I…er, what?” As the wagon came to a halt, the girl suddenly became alert. She dropped her bag briefly, her eyes scanning the area while she fought off a slowly-forming yawn. “This…is this Seven Arrows? So, we’re here?” she mumbled sleepily, relaxed, then shot a pensive glance at the wagon-owner. “Hey, I didn’t say anything weird in my sleep, did I? …I did, didn’t I? Well, um, many thanks for the ride. Um, I’ll just leave the fare on the seat and excuse myself before I embarrass myself any further, yes?”

Without waiting for an answer, she dropped a few coins on the wagon seat and covered her face with her cloak, scurrying into the gates of the great city.

Seven Arrows was a familiar sight to her, even as an outsider from a land known to many as but a fanciful children’s tale. Since that incident six years ago when Raph'æl Vosper first found her shipwrecked and starving at the edge of the Varisian peninsula, she had toured these lands extensively and lent her hand to everyone who needed help following the calamity – as a Pathfinder, and oftentimes, to spread her own name. She had visited the city countless times during that interim; it is, after all, a city that surpassed even Magnimar as the jewel of the Varisian plains, built by the great hero himself. For a fallen princess of the martial arts world seeking to revive her father’s style in the Inner Seas, there was no greater place than Seven Arrows to spread her wings.

The city was filled with its own wonders; some, she would have never dreamed of had she not seen them with her own eyes. For a moment, then, the skies from afar dimmed as a behemoth swallowed the sun in its magnificent maws, and the girl lazily turned toward the sky, watching the monstrous machine split the heavens with drowsy eyes and a broad grin. “That must be his ship,” she mused, studying the airship as it disappeared into the city as if it belonged to a long-time friend. She thought about the first moment she laid eyes on The Morrigan in the company of its captain – a fellow Pathfinder and acquaintance of Raph’el Vosper. Her expression then must have been priceless – the face of a naïve young girl who could never, in a millennia, imagine that such a thing could ever have existed in her little facsimile of the world.

She retrieved a few pieces of confectionery from her pockets, and put the airship out of her mind for now. Her attention was held by the massive spectacle at the ramparts of the Low-Castle gates. Two of her peers had returned with her, and she greeted them with a warm but lazy smile; with it, she noticed that eyes of the gate’s soldiers were on them as they cheered and made a merry scene of themselves. The girl laughed sheepishly, wiping a still-remaining trail of drool from her lips as she stood in more proper posture, stashing her candy away from their sight. She was expecting a quiet entrance into the city, and wondered what the veteran soldiers thought of her – a supposed new champion of the Society – sleep-talking like a child while slumped on a merchant wagon, in a manner completely unbecoming of an up-and-coming “hero”.

Whatever their thoughts were, their merrymaking suddenly died, and their eyes became fixated on a single figure approaching the Low-Castle gates. Xiaomiao glanced at the approaching gypsy with some interest; she faintly recognized Mayli Artel from the old stories of Taldor that she would occasionally borrow from Venture Captain Heidmarch’s libraries. Her final battle at Taldor was the subject of many stories and plays, though they were nine years too early and five nations removed from Xiaomiao’s still-shallow knowledge of Avistan. She rarely visited nations outside of Varisia, and to her, the battle may as well be the mythical adventures of Whitebeard the Legendary Pirate, as fantasies far removed from her own little facsimile of the world.

Mayli was supposed to be dead, or so she had heard. Perhaps, like the airships that flew in the sky and the deeds of her own mentor, this was simply another one of the strange wonders of the inner sea regions. Turning to her fellow pathfinders – Mason and Stredexon – she whispered with a faint giggle:

“If we come here again tomorrow, maybe we’ll see Aordan himself casually striding into Seven Arrows.”

[BizzaroStormy]

Nearly six and a half feet tall and of average build, Stredexon is usually one to stand out a bit in an average crowd. His short platinum blonde hair gives off a slight glow in the sunlight, casing him to sometimes stand out like a sore thumb. Unlike your average Aasimar, his face possesses very avian features and is very gaunt with a somewhat hooked nose. His clothing is carefully made from various hides and leathers and is mostly concealed beneath his dark maroon duster. A pointed hat with a wide brim hides his short hair. Slung over his shoulder is his trusty rifle. The weapon which had seen him through the last 20 years, partnered with the grenade launcher on his hip, that pair of weapons was instrumental in the defense of Sandpoint up until its destruction. However, all but his hat and rifle are kept out of sight by the large cloak, weighted with several pounds of explosive munitions. The back of the cloak is embroidered proudly with the old flag of the sandpoint citadel.

"If that happens, I'll eat my hat." the leather-clad gunman mutters. Unlike Xiaomao who had a nice relaxing trip in a wagon, he'd spent his trip to Seven Arrows flying high in the air, held aloft by the gifts of his mother's side. Something most people envy when they don't understand the realities of collisions with birds or the taste of half a swarm of flying insects. This was a taste Dex was eager to wash out of his mouth with some sweet wine from a local tavern. "I've heard a few stories from my father about her. In fact he claimed to have..." he stops himself short for but a moment as he remembers the company he is in before mentioning one of his father's lecherous claims "...mmmmmmet her personally on a few occasions. She's supposed to be dead though."

[forg99rules]

Mac smiled as he watched Alekk come up the gangplank with his Bird, seeing an Old Friend again made him happy as he recently had lost one of his good friends in Riddleport during his last job.


It should have been a simple job really but nothing ever is with Williams, He had hired me to smuggle him out of the city but he was late for our scheduled meeting at the docks. I was terribly worried that something had gone wrong. Normally i wouldn't have to wait this long for Williams to show up he is almost always early and this had me really worried. I decided that i would venture into town and see if i could find him at his shop.

Some people might have issues traversing the streets of Riddleport but not me i have had several jobs here and plenty of more times than that have had to outrun the guards or gangs in the area. So i knew what streets were safe and what ones to stray from. Williams shop may have not seemed like much as it was built in a burned down home of some Low Noble but it worked for him seeing as the house had a basement that hadn't taken any damage from the fire.

As i neared where his Shop was i took notice that a lot of the peddlers and gang members were keeping their heads lower than normal for most people in there profession. This set off some bells in my head and i decided that the best way to find out without actually getting into eye sight of his shop was to ask one of the Peddlers what was going on in the area.

As i looked around to pick the best person to ask i couldn't help but worry that i already knew the answer and that Williams had made an enemy or two that decided to take him out.

I spotted a little girl who was tucked away in a side alley and decided that she would be the best person to ask. As i neared the girl i pulled a couple of gold pieces out of my pocket and offered them to her. "Hey Girl, I got 3 gold pieces for you to tell me what is going on in the area". She lifted her head up and from the look in her eyes i could tell that she was worried i was going to do something to her. "Don't worry i'm not going to hurt you i just want some information about a friend of mine". The little girl relaxed a little and then asked me what i wanted to know. "My friend is a Fence that lives just up the street in the Basement of the burned down house, Have you heard any news about him". Hey eyes go wide and she takes off running screaming something about how she doesn't know anything and didn't see what happened. This set off more sirens in my head and i knew that he had screwed up. But none the less i needed to see for myself.

I took some more Sketchy back alleys that would lead me near his shop and would set me up to be able to see his shop without anyone else being able to see me. As i looked around the corner and saw the entrance to the grounds it reiterated that he had ****ed up hard, There was at least 3 different gangs guarding the entrance to his shop and none of them should have been in this area.

That did it for me so I took off as quick as i could back to my ship so that i could get out of this hell hole. As i came out onto the docks i noticed an odd person waiting near my ship and i started to feel even more worried that this had something to do with the problems that Williams had run into. I walked up to the woman "Can i help you with something?", She didn't reply at all to me instead all she did was hold out a Black Envelope. As soon as i took the envelope from her she turned and left without saying a single word.

Well as they say Curiosity killed the cat, I opened the envelope and read its contents, It was a Summons from none other than Raph'ael himself. I know knew where i was going, Back to Seven Arrows.


Noticing the odd Salute that Alekk gave made him wonder what was going on and so did the strange pulse in his head. "Scold go ahead and take his Bird down bellow, Give it a bath and some food while your at it." Normally i don't call my crew by their last name but given how odd everything was i felt the need to send a signal to my crew, to let them know that i will be going and that it was dangerous.

Alexis was talking to Gene about supplies, She was requesting supplies, something other than Trail Rations as they had ran out of actual food before they had hit Riddleport and due to them having to leave so suddenly that they hadn't had time to restock. Her captain called out to Eldrith using her last name and immediately she knew that **** had just hit the fan. He never uses his crews last names unless it is a dire circumstance and from what she overheard and the arrival of Alekk it must have been. "Gene just make me a list and we will get what you need, now Excuse me i need to tell Hikil to prepare the Ship in case we need to make a quick get away again." She walked away and headed down into the depths of the ship to find Hikil.

Eldrith was busy tallying what cargo they still had after their hasty retreat from Riddleport, The captain hadn't said why they left in such a hurry but if she was more of a betting girl she would put her money on it being because of that odd woman that had waited for him at the docks. She heard the Captain call out for her but for some reason he used her last name instead of her first or his nickname for her. She turned and looked noticing that Mr. Mak was heading onto the ship with his Bird, She headed over to take it from him. "Mr. Mak just because he doesn't need to eat doesn't mean he he doesn't want to, Even animals enjoy eating good food. Now here let me take him for you and i will give him a bath and some food so he doesn't give us anymore fuss" Eldrith reached out and took hold of the reins that Mr. Mak was holding and cooed to the Bird and she led it below for its bath and food.

Seeing that the Bird was getting taken care of Mac returned the odd salute allowing whatever this pulse was to continue entering his mind. Immediately he felt a connection linking him and Alekk together. "Alekk this here is Freddrick, he works for Mr. Warren and has just offered me a job of sorts." "You wanted to speak in private?"

[Felyndiira]

"Then, it's settled." Xiaomiao turned back to the long-dead woman with a thoughtful expression on her face, in direct contrast to the somber and fearful mood of the onlookers around them. She knew why she was summoned to Seven Arrows - she had read that black letter about twenty times during her voyage to the city, and the mission, as well as the significance of the two fellow Pathfinders beside her, were not lost to the girl. Still, she wore a faint smile when she turned back to her companions, addressing them in her usual, chipper tone. "Our aim is to make Dexie eat his hat, so tomorrow, we'll find some way to raise Aordan and drag him into these gates. If one legend has already been revived so easily, it can't be so hard to revive another, yes? Are you in, Mason?"

She waited for a moment, then giggled.

"I'm just kidding, of course," The girl glanced at the Aasimar to ensure that she did not offend him. She only knew Stredexon professionally, as a fellow pathfinder and a fellow understudy of Raph'el when he was still around as the aloof head of the Society - and wasn't sure if her brand of humor would match his tastes. "By the way, you look a bit worn-out," she added with a worried look. "You didn't travel here manually, no? There are plenty of merchant wagons you could have hitched a ride on for less than one gold. As a plus, there's the beautiful scenery to the city. The parts that weren't destroyed six years ago, at least...well, even those ruins had a sort of beauty in their own way. I highly recommend trying it sometime."

Xiaomiao reached into her pockets and produced a pair of marble-sized confectionery, which she offered to his compatriots as she continued her chattering, unabated by the mood of her companions. "Here, I've found that sweets are a good way to wash off the sour tastes of a long journey on the open road. Now, you were talking about your father's 'meeting' with the legendary, long-dead siren from Taldor, yes?"

[Fii]

La'Min had been diligently tending the forge, attending the tasks left for her by Mistress Roslin. She held up her newest creation for appraisal. It was a Jingasa crafted of fine-hammered steel and inlaid with traditional depictions of luck. It featured a twin set of slits to accommodate her ears, as feature she was quite proud to have added to the design herself."It's beautiful! I love it!" She thought as she turned it in the light so that she could look upon every inch of detail, and smiled as she set it upon her head. It fit perfectly and she was pleased- she couldn't wait to show Mistress Roslin when she returned.

Her smile faded the second the bells rang out, and she winced as they rang out so unexpectedly. Her ears drooped down in an attempt to shield themselves from the vociferous sound. Her hands instinctively released the hammer she'd been holding and clamped tightly over all that she could cover. The sound of the dropped hammer clanging against the anvil was drowned out by the penetrating ringing of the bells. She found her attempts to shield herself from the sound were futile as her ears were much too long, and the sound was much too loud. Over the course of minutes she began to adjust, though her ears were left ringing unpleasantly. She ventured to the window and peered outside while gently massaging them in an attempt to stop the ringing. "I wish they'd have a better alarm system.. " she said to the room at large. It was then that she noticed the tugging of the seal upon her hand. She followed its pull with her eyes, glancing out of the window. "Alright, alright!" She said, retrieving Song of Mountains from its perch beside the bolted door and heaving it over her shoulder as she unlatched the door and swung it open. She stepped out, closing the door behind her until she heard the familiar "click." There seem so many.. What's going on? I hope someone knows, I don't want to be left in the dark... she thought to herself as she headed towards the first gaggle of onlookers she had seen from the window. She didn't know any of them, of course, but she didn't know most people anyway. Perhaps she would make friends, and perhaps they knew the reason for the alarm. One way or the other, she was going to find out- they did have the same seal she did, afterall. "Do you know why the bells went off?" She asked of whomever was nearest.

[Triskavanski]

As luck would have it "Sorry love, haven't the foggiest. Just came here like ya did. In it for tha reward ta? Perhaps we should stick together." The small ratfolk grinned a little giving a small wave up to her.

Therin was drabbed in his usual cloak, a faint scent of alchemical herbs wafting off of him, particularly lavander, gunpowered and just a hint of mint, a far cry from most ratfolk who stunk of filth and plague, especially in the outer regions.

"Shall we investigate a bit further, love?" he began trudging along ducking and weaving through crowds of gagglers to get a bit closer to someone of more authority.

[Fii]

Whatever it is that La'Min expected of a ratfolk, this one defied her expectations. He was polite, and he smelled nice to her. Honestly, it made her feel a bit relaxed, though it was probably just the lavender. She quickly timed her step to keep up with his and not surpass his pace. "Reward? What reward? Is there a challenge I should be aware of? And do you know anyone who might know?" Her new friend seemed mysterious to her, but strangely trustworthy. Again, that may have just been the lavender. She didn't smell quite as nice as he, for she smelled of pungent garlic- the better to keep vampires at bay. She was careful with her footing as she was mindful not to step upon a crack in the walkway. As she followed him, her mind was busying itself with trying to catch up to the situation. "I was training under Mistress Roslin.. I have a personal challenge I'm working on.. I'm going to break the sound barrier.. but it's far off, and I'm going to need all the luck I can get..so I've been forging some. I wouldn't shy away from treasure, though, if there were any- what treasure?" It seemed this man knew more than she, and even if he didn't, he seemed good company. He didn't seem to be involved in anything she considered shady- no magic, anyway, as far as she could tell. "Maybe my Jingasa has been lucky already.. how wonderful!" she thought to herself, adjusting her hat subconsciously.

[BizzaroStormy]

"It isn't as farfetched as you might think. I've met a few clergymen in my life who have claimed their god has granted them the ability to return the dead to life. It was something I looked into not long after my father had passed. The problem, they told me, was that there was was a window of only a few days after death that one could be brought back and that if the deceased had succumbed to old age or certain magics, then there was no way to bring them back." He punctuates his short tale by picking a few feathers out of his hat which had come from an earlier birdstrike.

"I was kind of in a hurry to get home. Half a day's travel by air beats three or four days travel on a wagon. Plus the last time I traveled with merchants, we hit a large bump and I wound up reeking of spices and exotic perfumes for weeks." The annoyed adult face Dex had kept while describing his journey fell apart as he was offered the candy. He eyeballs it for a moment like a child with too little pocket money before snatching it and popping it in his mouth. His lips and eyes snap shut as he takes a moment to savor the taste. Dex lets out a short contented sigh before speaking with the candy still housed in one of his cheeks.

"Wehr...'e wasn't sho rong-dead back 'en. 'ad ran into 'heir 'raverring 'avern moh an onsh." with a final slurp, he swallows the rest of the confection and clears his throat. "His work had him travelling a lot and he fancied himself a ladies' man. The short version of most of their encounters is that she apparently like hearing his embellished stories. 'The Tales of the Legendary Gunhand, Ivan Ivanovich Ivnovsky' he would call them. Old guy could make a bard sound like an alderman."

[NuclearCommando]

Sitting at the front of a wagon that was entering the tiered metropolis of Seven Arrows was a nimble looking fellow in a slightly glowing white cloak, looking forward into the towering buildings of the complex city. Despite the neutral look on the man's face, emotions and memories, combined with some heavy telepathic banter filled his head.

To many, the city was a place of opportunity, residence, and wealth. To some, it was a place of nothing but fear and poverty. To others, it was just another city. To Mason, it was something in between all of those, for Seven Arrows was like a home to him and his sister, but a home with the dried blood of a victim splattered across the walls. It said quite a bit that a homecoming son was glancing left and right in paranoia, hoping to avoid the sight of those who ran the streets. The Black Skulls...

Even now, the vision of his hurried escape from the city as a far weakened version of himself, grabbing the body of his sister and a blade forged with a good chunk of his potential arcane power was harsh to his emotional composure. But of this, he mentioned nothing. He mentioned nothing to the Pathfinders that sat behind him, who he should've told what danger they could fall into by travelling with him. But, for some reason, he didn't. It wasn't malice, but since his sister's death, he didn't know what he was feeling.

"You're an edgy little twonk, honestly. We're home, and nobody's gonna screw with us. Fath- he wants out help, and we're gonna pay him back. And you know that no flapjack has a pig's chance in hell to stop us, Black Skulls or not."

"Right, Val, right."

Mason's thoughts were interrupted by the halting of the cart, and the exclaimed awakening of the female Pathfinder behind him, bringing him back to normality. Slowly, he shifted his body to look at the others, as they got off the cart, and quipped "Home, I'd say. Vosper had better have been well-reasoned for this."

As they moved through the crowd, Mason's paranoid glances brought his eyes to the entrance of something that should've been less than alive, around the same time as Xiaomiao brought it to the group's attention. "Well, pull my hair, that's-"

"The Champion of Desna, Dawnhammer, whatever you want to call her, that there is Mayli Artel, fresh and with a lack of decomposing."

This was certainly a development, and while he did not have the reaction of the crowd that surrounded the return of the lady, he was suspicious. Ironically enough, he of all people felt that the return of the dead was the sign of something going wrong, no matter what the context or method used.

When he turned his attention back to his compatriots, he glanced at the sweet that Xiaomiao was offering, and remarked, with a slightly sour face, "No, thank you. I'm not a sweets person, although..." with a glance over to Dex "Dex certainly seems to be. In any case, whether or not she died or not, and whether or not she could've been brought back isn't quite as note-worthy as the fact that she's back. Divine intervention, or something else with some big consequences, both of which are events that mean serious business. What do you all think we should do?"

"Here we go, Mason the Spineless all over again. Just go up to the chick, stop faffing about and asking these buggers for their opinion, and Braum's your uncle!"

"Look, Val, we've got plenty of things to be worried about in Seven Arrows, and 'faffing' about is exactly what I don't wanna do, so I'm asking them. And who in Evard's name is Braum?"

"Wha- Yo- Whatever, some Andoran you are."

[Triskavanski]

Whatever it is that La'Min expected of a ratfolk, this one defied her expectations. He was polite, and he smelled nice to her. Honestly, it made her feel a bit relaxed, though it was probably just the lavender. She quickly timed her step to keep up with his and not surpass his pace. "Reward? What reward? Is there a challenge I should be aware of? And do you know anyone who might know?" Her new friend seemed mysterious to her, but strangely trustworthy. Again, that may have just been the lavender. She didn't smell quite as nice as he, for she smelled of pungent garlic- the better to keep vampires at bay. She was careful with her footing as she was mindful not to step upon a crack in the walkway. As she followed him, her mind was busying itself with trying to catch up to the situation. "I was training under Mistress Roslin.. I have a personal challenge I'm working on.. I'm going to break the sound barrier.. but it's far off, and I'm going to need all the luck I can get..so I've been forging some. I wouldn't shy away from treasure, though, if there were any- what treasure?" It seemed this man knew more than she, and even if he didn't, he seemed good company. He didn't seem to be involved in anything she considered shady- no magic, anyway, as far as she could tell. "Maybe my Jingasa has been lucky already.. how wonderful!" she thought to herself, adjusting her hat subconsciously.


"Break the sound barrier ya say? Wouldn't that turn ya inside out? Would be a right bloody shame there, love. As for the reward, wouldn't know just yet. Bells ain't ringing for the time, which means something bad happened. Bad things often mean a reward to stop bad thing."

The ratfolk shrugs softly, adjusting a little. Glancing around for information. "Name's Therin Dasher, a pathfinder."

[Fii]

La'Min couldn't imagine what it'd feel like to be turned inside out, and shuddered at the very thought. "...Luck willing, that wouldn't happen.. but yes, I wish to beak the sound barrier.. " She trailed off a bit, unable to get the gruesome image out of her head. For good measure, she began to turn in seven clockwise circles, counting each successful spin aloud."1..2.......6...7!" She let out a relieved sigh once she'd completed her circles, as though she'd really dodged a bullet there. "I'm La'Min, also a pathfinder.. Let's see about finding out more about this 'bad stuff' that happened.. " She said, clutching her holy symbol tightly.

[Mornings]

Part I: Seven Arrows
Main Quest: The Witch of Undercity
Difficulty: (3) Medium | Reward: (2) Low | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (0) None
Raph'æl has gone into hiding. At his summons you have returned to the great city of Seven-Arrows. In search of the elusive Bechal Rossfield, Raph'æl's contemporary enemy and bitter rival - you set off in search of the faceless Witch of Undercity; Gal'bertel S'Sisery. While no one knows what S'Sisery looks like, it is no mystery as to where he dwells: Now each of you make for Romere's Tower, a heavily guarded mechanical-wonder which wandered about thickly crowded Lantern District. Possessing within it the only gate into Undercity. The Warren Trading Company closely manages all traffic in and out of the gate. Entering would prove no problem, but emerging from the city again would be another matter entirely...

Neth the 3rd, Oathday - 4:34 PM / AR 4732
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
District: Low-Castle; - Outside Vornheim


http://i.imgur.com/ZQImo71.jpg



[The Heros Of Low-Castle: La'Min / Therin / Xiaomiao / Mason / Stredexon]



The sudden sound of rushing footsteps and jostling armor upon the ramparts caused an unexpected stir. Therin did not see his master among the caravaning traders and returning craftsmen. A number of the proud looking D'Aritel Knights stood upon their transports to look over the rear of their heavy wagons with hands leveling to leather-wrapped hilts of polished steel. A silence filled the plaza of Low-Castle, as if everyone suddenly held their breath, waiting, listening - Bu'THUMP - Cu'thump. The smog was thick and obscured the vision of the guards - the wagons blocked all view from outside the gate to those below the ramparts, but it was no mystery - something was coming at great speeds. Something large.

A call from above cried out, "HOOOOOLD!" The Sparrows had already ran from the bastion at Gate Helna, the gateway to High-Castle and charged down the ramparts unslinging their longrifles as they went. The elite order of Musketeers was peerless and unnaturally frightening in their degree of precision with their weapons. The snipers could easily pick off criminals from nearly anywhere within the city when posted upon Sky-Landing. Shots made from thousands of feet, through wind and smog. Their rifles were finely tuned, but not ornate or possessing of any unusual devices or magical assistance - a fact which only added to their prestige. The finely dressed Musketeers took posts upon the wall. One young man who wore a wide brimmed hat adorned with a large feather, lifted up his silver rifle, glaring down the iron-sights before just as quickly dropping the weapon. "HOLD - WAGON!" The guards leered over the wall, trying to see through the smoke, the crash and rattle of rushing wheels became audible. The merchants begun boarding their chariots, horses and wagons, trying to move from the gate. The vision from outside the gate became visible. The Sparrow with the distinguishing hat looked down his rifle once again before crying out. "...Gate. GATE - CLOSE THE GATE!" A vision of dancing light in the distance came into view, cries echoing off in the distance - screams. The guards sprung into motion, running towards the large iron wheels of chains, cranking away.

The wagon finally came into view. A black horseless carriage engulfed in flame, wildy crashing forward. A man stood atop the burning vehicle, covered in deathly wounds, but laughing madly at the sky as he clung to some massive blade of stone which penetrated the inflamed wagon. Another man, engulfed in flame and shirtless, hung from the side of the out-of-control flaming cart firing carelessly with a revolver into a horde of abysmal writhing decaying hands. The gate quickly begun closing, far more quickly then the great 500ft tall doors would suggest. The Sparrows leveled their weapons. "KILL THE DEAD. LEAVE THE LIVING. FIRE!" A broadside volley of munitions ripped through the storm of writhing, re-animated corpse-parts. The gate creeped forward the last 6ft - threatening to close in the wild band's face. They didn't slow. They couldn't slow. There was no reins. There was no horses.

The wooden-black burning car crashed at full force into the ajar stone doors - exploding into flaming splinters. It's passengers were cast violently into the air. The man on the side was flattened against the outside of the gate as it crushed closed, while the man atop the wagon was catapulted head-long, still wildly laughing as if driven mad. A shadowy figure from within the destroyed van flew out into a tight but controlled side-long flip, spinning sharply before landing on her feet and continuing forward in a calm gait. In stark contrast, the insane-creature - the painted man, covered in gory open lacerations spun in a terrible and violent uncontrollable twist of limbs, still clinging to the absurdly sized stone sword. He crashed into the muck and mud, once. With a sharp crack, landing on an arm. Bounding up again, exploding through a Magnimarian merchant's carriage, and landing on his head as his body flipped over itself in a sickening display. The sword, fallen from his grasp, flipped in air and came crashing down onto him, landing with a disgusting splatter which sprayed upon the nearby traders. A silence chocked the onlookers, before finally a woman screamed out in terror while covering her face.

Guards stormed down into into the plaza, the cowled woman didn't cease her stride, before finally looking up at the disturbed on-lookers. The first time her face was visible - a number of gasps of recognition. To La'Min, the face did seem slightly familiar, but she couldn't place where she'd seen the figure - but for Therin, it was quite different, he knew her, though it was not the kind and soft-featured face he had come to know. His inclinations had been somewhat somewhat off-the-mark. The person before him was no assassin - the many seals adorning her six blades all carried with them very distinct and identical seals which were quite unmistakable. The Cheliaxian-conflicted cult, The Keepers of The Altruistic Watch. She was a Devil-Hunter.


A Devil-Hunter known as Candice Sterling

***


Candice muscled her way past the guardsmen who were at a loss of how to proceed. "Out of my way. This is business of The Altruistic Watch." The armed men stepped aside sheepishly - Fear of the Priests and Inquisitors was very real for those within Seven-Arrows. The strange, seemingly unexplainable events which had begun to enthral the world seemed to have no logical answers within the realms of science and arcana - but the godsmen provided them answers, and purged threats from the heart of civilized lands. Within Seven-Arrows this duty carried with it, a certain authority which weighed much more then it truly should have. Priests were not beyond the corruption of coin - though Inquisitors were another story, and were feared because of it. Even by the rich and powerful. They were perhaps the single element within the city which the great Crime Lords could not hope to control.

Walking up to the corpse that had been bludgeoned face-first into the ground, she planted her boot on the massive stone sword, kicking it aside with a great deal of effort. The body suddenly twitched, spasmed, then begun to move... The man pulled his awkwardly twisted head from the ground. Though his long black hair cover his face, it was rather evident his skull was facing an extra 60 degrees-or-so in the wrong direction. With a sickening pop, he re-adjusted it with his broken hand which dangled midway at his forearm. He was hunched over, as if trying to look at something upon the ground. Very little of his skin was left uncovered in a thick white paint, or unburned. While his wounds did bleed, they did not sprew blood uncontrollably as one might think. The wounds were grevious and fatal. Dark bruising from internal bleeding, broken ribs. Flayed skin hung from his back and his limbs were lacerated and torn. He cackled in a low menacing volume. "Oh yes, yes, yes. The Father has blessed this one. Twice. Thrice. And more. Oh yes." He snapped up his head to look at Sterling with a bloodied smile, his eyes were rolled back into his skull, as if in trace. "...And you. That you live. Hehe. You live, and my Brother's walk in glory to Abaddon. Truly The Father knows wisdom beyond me. Very well, Inquisitor, I will serve." Candice spoke from between her teeth in obvious disgust of the twisted-man - his face was splattered and painted in white and black. A Black Skull - Mason's eye's widened in terror. Not just any Black Skull. Perhaps the most violent and radical of the deathcult, second only to Menace. A Black Skull known as Edge. There was no ranking within the gang of painted-freaks, but externally, Edge was seen as second in authority. Like Menace, he was thought to have achieved some form of immortality. But unlike Menace, he knew no reason. A murdering psychopath indoctrinated into the fold by his superior - his radical ideology of The Father's Word spread like wildfire among the otherwise indifferent cult. His philosophy motivated wild and barbaric massacres to find other 'Chosen', individuals blessed by The Father, and it way they, who like them - would not die. The unworthy would be claimed by The Mother - Death. So great was his influence, that The Free Hands and Warren Trading allied themselves to rid the city of the mad beast. They cut him into parts and buried him alive across the Mushfens. Now, he had been restored!? "Then get to work." Edge chuckled wickedly, as he bent down and begun sniffing the ground like some mangy beast.

The Inquisitor turned to Therin, sharply approaching him and grabbing his land, having had immediately taken note of the sigil branded into his hand. "You've gotten yourself into something quite precarious, young one. But you should not be here. You must go - quickly. To High-Castle, and beyond." Her eyes scanned the crowd, picking out a handful of others, noting the other Pathfinders. "I'm afraid our relationship ends this day. Run. Run and never show your face before me again. The others will not allow you to live if they learn of you. Now go." A shrill whistle peeled out from above, upon the ramparts, the guards quickly moved back into position. Edge suddenly stopped, reeling back and screaming at the sky with uncontrollable frivolity. Inquisitor Sterling sharply faced the man with an incredulous look. "...Yes... YES-YES-YES-YES! COME, OH BRINGER OF PAIN! OH, GREAT TORMENTOR, AND SEETH! LUSTING, HUNGERING FOR THE HUNTED!" The Black Skull fell to his knees as if caught in a moment of rapture, throwing wide his arms to embrace the sky. "...He has come."

The fearful eyes of the merchants darted about, thoroughly unnerved by the madman. A sudden silent quake shook the air, as if some great wave of air surged into Low-Castle. With a sudden and unexpected sweep, the light of the sun faded as if obscured - yet there was nothing within the sky. No clouds. Only darkness.

The sudden wave of dark passed as suddenly as it had come - yet the massive shadow of great skeletal, nearly draconic wings cast a terrifying shade down upon Low-Castle. The plaza suddenly exploded into uncontrollable screams. Frenzied pandemonium shook the walls as traders, traveling merchants and residents begun running for their lives as Edge laughed madly. There was nothing in the sky - yet the shadow from the sky sweeped further into the city, through Low-Castle and up into the vast encircling fortresses of High-Castle.


Something dark and terrible had come to Seven-Arrows. Only The Pathfinders could hope to stop it.


Born from a wealthy merchant family, Edward's family relocated from Korvosa to Seven-Arrows during the beginnings of major trade between The Three Cities. His life had been quiet and peaceful. He was skilled in both his studies, and sports. He physically excelled in seemingly every pursuit. yet, he found his life - lacking. The subsequent battle of The Free Hands and The Black Skulls became a defining factor in his life - his world would change that day.

He abandoned his studies and joined the first children who zealously followed The Black Skulls like idols. In time, he abandoned his life, his family and everything he once had. He found the greater answers, the purpose he had sought for so long within the teaching of The Father. He became a Black Skull in full at the age of 14. Even among his peers, he knew a certain zeal that was uncontrollable - volatile. His zeal, grew into explosive and contagious radicalism - Believing he was guided by The Father to find his 'children'. He preached his gospel to those who would listen. Leading the largest genocidal campaign the Black Skulls would ever participate in, he murdered his parents, old friends and any which crossed his path. While he is known to be completely psychotic - A number of authorities within The Church have made past claims of a strange and unexpected divine-tie to his insanity.

While not a claim affirmed officially by any member of The Inquisition, it is unofficially accepted that Edward Prospero - now known as Edge, is the last known Oracle since the death of Aroden.

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(STARTED)Side Quest: Run Like Hell (Mythic)
Difficulty: (5) Extreme | Reward: (5) Unique | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
Freddrick Nagye has sought you out and is desperately pleading for you to take his employment to transport a small metal box of unknown origins. It is marked with The Black Brand, a seal only recognized by the criminal society, and inspires fear and dread in even the most hardened of crooks. Caring a Black Brand is as good as death to any man. No one knows what happens to those which have carried a Branded item, but they are never seen again. Be it standing on a stage, within a crowded room, or within a sealed vault. Something comes, and something spirits away the victims for eternity while reclaiming the marked object. It's only a short travel to Inner Vornheim, and the pay is good - but looking down at the box... You have a very bad feeling about this job.

Neth the 3rd, Oathday - 4:34 PM / AR 4732
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
District: High-Castle; - Outside Vornheim


http://i.imgur.com/ZQImo71.jpg



[The Heros From Afar: Mac Lir / Kourin Alekk Mak Esh]

Caldern laughed as Alekk boarded the ship. "Oh, who's your friend Mac? The sod looks like he sprouted legs and crawled out of the fens." Her prods were obviously aimed at eliciting some kind of response - bothered by being ignored. Freddrick scowled at the woman, then looked to Alekk. "Bird. Frog. A goddam pit fiend. Couldn't give the dumb little ****s in Vornheim a second thought - If you're a friend of Mac's, then you're a friend of mine! -But look... I don't got a lot of time Bud. In fact... You might say this is a time sensitive offer." He pulled himself close to Mac Lir, sliding the box into his shirt. "I know you won't let me down, Mac. There's a reason we call you the best damned smuggler on this side of Avistan." Sharply turning to Alekk he scooted over, stuffing a handful of platinum coins in his hand. "I like new kids. Fresh blood in the business keeps the heart pumping - as they say. Don't know you, Bud, but you know Mac - He's damn good at... what he does. But he's going to need help on this one - a lot of it." He stepped off the ship, then turned around - ".....Mac. If it's The Big One, you might be able to take him down. Maybe... But you can't beat The Little One, you just can't. Run.... " The air suddenly quaked. A thunderous surge of wind and sound, a sonic assault. "RUN! GODS, RUN!"

The crew of The Queen Anne glanced around in bewilderment - As if they couldn't see it. But they could. The massive beast-faced hovered at the lip of Sky-Landing, wielding massive 17ft lengths of massive hissing steel, it lashed out blindingly quick, cleaving through the solid forged steel of the sky-dock like a hot-brand through snow. The woman suddenly cried out, immediately boarding the vessel, a cry of "BRACE!" echoed out as the airship's anchors flipped over and off the landing and down into High-Castle. Caldern, drew one of her massive pistols and shot off the steel chain from the ships bow as the peeled off from the landing and drifted off into the air as the massive 50ft steel dockwas shredded in a blinding flurry of blazing frost and crackling flame. The Morrigan was cast adrift as her dock was split in two, and the steel of her anchor fell away dragging the vessel down.

Without a thought, Alekk and Mac Lir dived off the ship catching unto the twisted metal platform as one of the massive wrought-iron blades cleaved a swath of metal from the deck as if shaving off a thin slice of butter. Freddrick, had already taken the elevator down, leaving both men stranded upon the teetering platform as both ships drifted away. The wind howled as the great beast flapped torn and rotted wings that crackled with sizzling bolts of lightning. Though the massive creature was far too large, to judge its size, it must have been at least 30ft tall. The held fast to the twisting metal pulling themselves up upon the platform as the massive devil glared down at them with frightful eyeless voids.

The world suddenly begun to slow. The battering winds from the creature's powerful wings and nauseating breath eased, then ceased entirely. The deafening winds and creak of the mangled metal of the dock stilled into silence. Then the world was still. A subtle shaking filled their hands. A warmth - then burning. It flared up into a blazing and crippling agony that brought them each to their knees as the light of the evening sun bent and deflected off the the crackling fist of radiance which rippled out from the sigil upon their hands. With explosive force, a furious golden maelstrom of light erupted from their marked hand, lifting them into the air. A massive surge of power unlike anything they knew existed suddenly manifested - threatening to tear apart their mortal frames, until the golden luminescence poured out from their eyes and mouths. A great voice filled their ears.


"...And so, the first of The Blessed have risen. The might of your decaying world lingers about about you. Over you, and soon upon you. Alone, you shall fall, and the curse of The Pale Lady shall drown you amidst a darkness of a likeness you've never known. Seize the light - your only weapon... Don't be afraid."

The storm of luminescent gold surged into them, like an imploding star. The runes running around the sigil filled with fierce burning light, as if stolen from the very heavens. Everything felt changed. Though there was nothing they could place, it was an awareness, a 6th sense which did not exist before. They could feel causality slip through their fingers like some sort of intangible series of threads. Time. It was an object which they could touch.

The great beast pounded its mighty fists into the steel of the landing bending the massive 400ft tower at a slight angle as it pulled itself up to leer over them with a massive toothy grin. It's beastial face, covered in fur and adorned with great and frightful horns seemed to taunt them. As if the creature wordlessly gloated above the mortals. The light coiled and wound about their hands - the last of the light seeping into the seal. The massive swords of the creature laid flat upon the ground, hissing in coldfire, and crackling bursts of some kind of black profane energy - as if it were lightning turned black. It was like a cage. It belched out a name - it's name. With a mean-spirited confidence only an infernal-beast could know. "ALASTOR!" The last syllable became a deafening, ear-bleeding cry that shook the metal beneath their feet. It didn't take any kind of genius to know what - who this beast was. The Usurped Arch Devil - once known as The Executioner of Hell. He'd lost his seat of power to Amon, a Duke of Hell. His was a story only know because The House of Corval sealed the great devil away some 20 years ago. Now it seemed... he was free.


"Don't be afraid."






ASCENSION

Advancement: First Side Quest Started


Ascension Surge:You have unlocked a small measure of your divine power. This new fraction of divinity has graced you with a new awareness. The perception of Causality and Time. You have learned to tap into it, bend it and even re-write it. Changing events which may have occurred at your very whim. However this power is extremely limited and consumes a large portion of your achieved divinity with each use.

Performing an Ascension Surge consumed one point of Ascension. Unlike Mythic Power used to perform a Mythic Surge, these points will never be restored. More points can be gained by completing challenging events and Side Quests, but otherwise provide an extremely limited pool. Ascension Points can provided numerous static benefits for having them - however these abilities are unlocked with future Ascension Advancements and are unavailable while starting. Choosing when to expend Ascension Points should be considered very carefully as you will not be getting them back, and it will decrease the effectiveness of numerous future Ascension Abilities gained in the future.

Use: You may expend 1 Point of Ascension as an Immediate Action at any point you desire. This Immediate Action does not count against your actions during your following round as would a traditional Immediate Action. Furthermore, a conventional Immediate Action may be taken with, during, or in conjunction with an Ascension Surge.

After making any single roll, you may roll again (This need not be on a d20). Take the higher of the two results. If the new result would still fail, then take the higher of the two results - This result receives a +20 Untyped Bonus to the attempt. If the result would succeed - It succeeds as if you have made a Critical Success (Nat 20). Attacks confirmed in this manner do not need to confirm Critical Threat and pass automatically. If the result does not pass even with the applied Untyped Bonus, the result fails as normal and the Ascension Surge is wasted. Use of Ascension Surge to accomplish a task does so with extreme and often impossible results and should be used only while in the greatest need.


ASCENSION POINTS GAINED: 4
(+1) Extreme Difficulty | (+1) LoFP: Challenging | (+1) Mythic | (1 Points) Default




Run Like Hell: Chase Scene 1 - The Tower

Alastor leaned forward, speaking out with a great and terrible gutteral roar, that shook their very bones within their bodies. (In Infernal)"Worthy prey..... Entertain me, mortals! Struggle, fight, fight til I tear the fleshed from your bones!" The massive beast, cried out in shuddering cacophony "FLEEEEEE ME!" Without a second word of warning, the great devil lifted his blades madly, his great muscled armed pumped in blinding fury as the thrashed forward, stuffing his overly large body into the mangled Sky-Landing. With expert motions the two of them burst into motion - Alekk dived over one of the massive blades as he made for the rising elevator. Mac Lir spun away as he watched his ship drift away, dragged down by a piece of the dock and the tethered anchor, ducking under a massive freezing blade just as it whipped by his head, freezing part of his cowl. He shook the thought away - he had to focus. He glided swiftly away from the wild devil as he cleaved apart the steel air-dock in his howling frenzy - evidently enjoying himself in his storm of destruction. The blades passed narrowly, one of the massive platters of sharpened steel buzzed by Alekk as he reached the elevator nicking his back and leaving a burning cut which quickly frosted over, though he winced at the sensation. The elevator finally reached the top - its doors opened. The Mishtai's eyes lit up at his path of escape...

The devil slammed both of his blades together in a double grip and spun in a whirling storm of steel with the flat of his blade. Mar Lir glanced back just in time as he heard the bestial devils' gleeful bellow, but it was not enough time to react. The blade ripped through the over-hang and cleaved through the ceiling and the levy-system which the elevator used to run. The blade then came slashing into them, plastering them across its burning surface and hammering them both down the collapsing 400ft skeletal-steel shaft. Without waiting, the devil slashing open the narrow compartment and begun falling after them whilst wildly hammering away with his blades in a blender of thundering electricity and freezing brimstone. They fall in a racing free-fall.... the dancing blue flame sparked off of their burning garments, the terrible blow left them shuddering as the steel beams of the crumbling shaft were tore apart in the midst of the devils ungodly strength.




Part 1: Shafted - Failed
Mac Lir and Alekk make a mad-dash to escape from Alastor's blinding fury of strokes; However fail in the last stretch to the elevator, or optionally the edge of the landing. They are instead struck by Alastor's swords and thrown down into the shaft as the devil crashes down after them, obliterating the narrow walls in a flurry of blows with his dreadful swords:

Mechanics:
DC [17] Reflex Save

Move 1:
Mac Lir +13 (1d20+13)[25]
Alekk +9 (1d20+9)[28]

Move 2:
Mac Lir +13 (1d20+13)[23]
Alekk +9 (1d20+9)[18]

Move 3:
Mac Lir +13 (1d20+13)[16]
Alekk +9 (1d20+9)[15]

****
Mac Lir Takes: [roll0] Damage
Alekk Takes: [roll1] Damage

****



Part 2: The Blender
Falling through the shaft, Mac and Alekk need to think quickly how to best escape Alastor's approaching assault and the fast approaching ground.

Option 1: (If you can Fly)
DC30 Fly Check - Stop yourself from hitting the ground at the last moment using your ability of flight

Option 2: Take hold of another person
DC+5 [roll2] Acrobatics Check:

Kicking off from the wall, you may attempt to grab the other individual and aid one another in your attempt to cease and slow your descent. This option grants a +4 Bonus to Options 1 and 3

Option 3: Face the assault
[roll3] Jumps:
DC+5 [roll4] DC Acrobatics Checks:

Kicking off from the wall multiple times, you slowly manage to slow your descent to survivable speeds - but you must survive the storm of blades from Alastor's fury above.


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[BizzaroStormy]

"Well, it has been a long trip no reason we couldn't..." Dex is cut off by the sudden commotion surrounding the gate. He weaves through the crowd a bit to get a view of what is happening before it the blackened carriage comes into view. The celestial gunman's reflexes allowed him to unconsciously bring the launcher at his side to bear, and a practiced hand to draw a projectile with a red and silver band from one of the loops of his cloak, immediately loading it into the launcher and quickly closing with a loud 'snap' followed by the dull 'thump' of the projectile being fired from the rifled barrel.

The grenade lands firmly in the writhing mass, adding an intense burning white/blue light to the hail of gunfire from the city's guards. A handy spin replaces the launcher in its holster as Dex's off hand pulls the slinged rifle off his shoulder and brings it up in preparation to deal with any survivors of the crash. His finger nearly squeezes a short burst of hot adamantine into the "driver" before the six-bladed woman approaches it. He retains his aim on the creatures head as it begins blathering at the inquisitor. It becomes apparent to Stredexon that the immediate threat has passed causing him to lower his rifle and simply stand back as he watches things unfold.

Drawing the grenade launcher and loading it with a thermite grenade as a free action.

Targeting the space the carriage is in when the guards fire on it.
[roll0]
[roll1]

[Triskavanski]

"WHAT DID YA DO!" Therin cries out as hell, for all intensive purposes breaks out, practically literally. He stares at La'Min for a few moments before starting to move back, "No.. Nevermind! We need ta.. Of course that is when he saw her. His master of the alchemical trade, Candice Sterling bashing down the man-like creature of darkness before she marches up to him grabbing his hands. He wasn't going to lie, He wasn't any a paladin, he wasn't a mage of great renown, nothing like that. He was just a fairly scared ratfolk. A Pathfinder sure, but still quite frightened.

Dumbly he nods as she holds his hand, gritting his teeth before looking to his hand and then to her. "Who?" he asks before glancing to La'Min, reaching out to grab her hand next, a situation that was less for her sake and far more for his own. "She's right.. we need ta get moving. If yer a pathfinder ta we need to hurry, Love!"

Then the dragon came over head. Therin grimiced, looking more eager to get out of there "Aww.. Suck an elf! he cursed under his breath.

[Felyndiira]

"I suppose we could put the matters of the resurrected legend aside, at least for the moment being." Xiaomiao's expression did not change; she slowly turned from her Pathfinder companions to observe the commotion's source, but the air around her was visibly different from her formerly cheerful self. Within a few seconds, the air surrounding the became distinctly cold, and a faint nimbus of water encircled her. Along with the changes, a faint flutter of feathers circled her briefly before disappearing into a protective aura of light, leaving behind a momentary, nostalgic scent.

She did not take a step toward the wagon, merely watching with a readied stance as it was crushed by the castle gates. She did not say a word when the hooded figure revealed herself as an inquisitor, though her battle stance became relaxed, and her eyes slowly began to wander the crowd as if trying to catch the glimpse of another familiar face. Her eyes fell on Therin briefly - or, rather, they fell on the sigil that the ratling pathfinder wore on his hands.

Basically, Xiaomiao changed her stance to Elemental Flux Stance, with water (cold) as her primary element.

She also assumed Thrashing Dragon Style, and used her pathwalker ability to manifest Vigor on herself for 1 minute. Other than that, she didn't do anything of note yet. I'm going to hold off on further actions until Mason or Dex acts.

[Fii]

Active Stance: Broken Blade Stance*: +Level competence bonus to Acrobatics checks to avoid AoOs, and may make an additional attack when making a full attack action. * This stance is always active by default.

Standard Action: Cast Future's Boon on self: You may make any one d20 roll (typically a check or attack roll) twice, then take the better of the two results. The subject must choose which die roll to affect before the roll is made, at which point the spell discharges. You may only be under the effect of one future's boon at a time. Duration: 5 hours remaining.

Move Action: Help Therin onto her back in piggyback position. (Asked, he was willing).



Total Base Speed: 100 ft.
Item of note: Leggings of Cheetah's Sprint and of the Cat : Run/charge speed becomes x10.
Total Speed: 1,000ft/rd.

"I.. I don't know!" La'Min went into a panic. She'd only acted to break a bad luck spell, and then this happened? She wasn't even sure of what was happening. What she did understand was that she needed to run, and running was something she was good at. "Hold on Therin!"She took a breath, cast a spell she knew might come in handy later, and helped Therin onto her back in the standard piggyback formation. A second later, she runs at her top speed as though she were trying to outrun Death himself. She tried to navigate past the swarms of people and get them both out safely. She didn't know where they'd go, but she'd cross that bridge later. ****, ****, ****... Fortune be with us all.. she thought, mind racing to keep up with her feet and focused on pursuing their successful escape.

[Tacitus]

Heart pounding and the slice across his back screaming Alekk wastes no time in trying to yell to Mac as they fall down the elevator shaft towards their impending doom. He doubts his ability to stop his fall entirely with the limited flight available to him and knows slowing down too soon would thrust him into the blender above. He calls out, rather loudly, through the collective, commanding help from Mac 'Catch me! I'm going to bolster our bodies with psychic power, and hopefully heal thereafter. I can fix our wounds if we get even a single moment of breathing room.' With a flourish he casts off the tatters of the riding glove burned away by golden light and focuses his thoughts upon his own body and begins selecting key points to reinforce with psychic power. Almost immediately he feels the might of his mind flow into his body and he harnesses that increased vigor and forces it throughout his Collective so that Mac might also benefit from the same boon.

Swift to reallocate Essence (major notes, Akashic Augmentation ->Vigor)
Grab Mac. Cannot fail Acrobatics check
Manifest Vigor. Cannot fail on Concentration check to manifest while falling (assumed violent motion DC 15+LvL with +15 Concentration from Wis 9, ML 5, +1 Trait) However, a roll anyway in case the assumption is wrong [roll0]
Overchannel for [roll1] damage
Vigor: 1pp 5temp HP base, 4PP for +20 temp HP, 1 PP for +1 Target as a [Network] power, -pp from Akashic Augmentation
Total PP cost: 5 for 25 Temporary HP to myself and Mac Lir
42/47 Remaining PP

If there are more than one rounds of actions available he's also manifest Natural Healing, swapping Akashic Augmentation to Natural Healing and spending 4pp for 12hp to both parties, and Alek will redirect 4 of that healing to Mac, so 8hp for Alekk and 16 for Mac.

HP: 16/61+25 Temp HP
AC: 28/16/23
20% Miss Chance vs Melee and Ranged (DC 19 Disbelief)
Saves 10/9/16
Land Speed 40ft

Essence: Capacity 2 [+1 for one] DCs 11+E+Int. 11 Essence Total.
Veils:
[0] Riven Darts: X darts that deal 1d4+Xd4, no more than 2 darts per target. 20ft Ranged Touch as Standard
[3] Pestilence Cloak: 20% Miss Chance vs Range and Melee, Will Disbelief DC [16+X], Fly Clumsy 5+5Xft
[0] Ditchdigger Armlets: Full Round Act to create 10x10 difficult terrain, deals 1d6+Xd6 damage. 1d4 round cooldown
[2] Stalker's Tabi: +2+2X Acrobatics&Stealth

Feats:
[1] Akashic Augmentation: Chose a power. Cost is -X, only applies to Augments, can't reduce extra cost below 1. Can't invest more than power level
-Power Selected: Vigor

Racial:
[2] Speed: +10ft*X land speed.
[2] Natural Armor: +X Natural Armor
[1] Spines: Two 1d4 Spine attacks as primary natural weapons. Every odd after 1 adds +1 Enhancement

Charged Items:
[0] Wand of Lesser Restoration
[0] Wand of Cure Light Wounds
[0] Wand of Invisibility

[forg99rules]

~Crews PoV~

Alexis had gone up to talk with Hikil about getting the ship ready for a fast departure. "Hikil, Gets us ready to move Captain has a bad feeling about whats going down and so do I." "Damn and here i though we would be staying awhile, Alright i will have us ready to go in a few." After talking to Hikil she looked back over towards Mac and wondered what sort of trouble was headed their way.

Alexis watched as Freddrick handed something over to Alekk and quickly run away, No sooner had that happened had a loud Crash came from the dock. Alexis watched as the dock got shredded, a large chunck of it still attached to the ship, and her captain and his friend getting hit by some force and tossed down the elevator shaft.

"HIKIL GET US OUT OF HERE NOW!" "I'M TRYING BUT THAT DAMN DOCKS GOT US, MALTOR DRAKO CUT US LOOSE"
Maltor and Drako were both lounging on the deck waiting for their captain to give them some shore leave. When the dock suddenly started getting torn apart they stood their dumbfounded unsure of what they were seeing before their eyes. They then head Alexis yell for Hikil to get them out proceeded by Hikil calling for them to cut the lines that held them tied to what was left of the Dock. Immediate they sprang into action drawing weapons and cutting the ropes that were keeping them attached, Once the ropes were cut they looked over the edge and watched as the large piece of steel fell towards the city bellow. "Man i sure as hell hope no one is down bellow" "Eh it will be fine i would put money on Warren covering the cost for any damages or lives lost".


~Mac Lir POV~

One second he was standing there the next he saw a demon, He knew this was bad business and took off, Sadly no matter what he did the demon still managed to hit him and Alekk knocking them both down the elevator shaft. As they fell Mac heard in his mind someone saying to catch them and that they were going to bolster their bodies. Mac turned towards the only person who it could have been and caught Alekk as he pushed off the wall towards him, Mac caught him with ease as this wasn't his first time catching a falling friend. "Aight i got ya, Once we get to Ground try to keep up i'm going to finish my delivery and hopefully while im at it i can lose this bastard in the city". Watching the ground grow Nearer Mac prepared himself for the stop, Activating his powers he easily stopped a few feet from the ground releasing Alekk "Head towards the Lantern District i will catch up to you, Got a little surprise for this bastard." Mac turns around and pulls out a Feather from his pocket, tossing it to the ground he spoke the command word and a Giant tree sprang up from where the feather was, "That should slow him down some." Mac turned and using his boots of jaunt caught up with Alekk. He knew he had to find Gril and get this over with as fast as possible. He only hoped that the demon would stop chasing him once he delivered the goods.

Option 1 taken no possibility of failure on that as +31 bonus to fly.
Activated a Feather Token (Tree) to block the elevator shaft
Activated boots of Jaunt to catch up to Alekk

[Triskavanski]

Therin squeaked as he was pulled into a piggyback formation. In all of his years as a pathfinder or rather just being alive, he never could figure out for the life of him why it was called a Piggyback Ride. Was it how people used to carry their pigs? Was it a euphemism for cops? Did actual pigs carry their young on their back? The world may never know, and this certainly wasn't the time to be thinking of such things.

He quickly realized what she was about to do and if her breaking the sound barrier was any indication.. He clung to her back for dear life, while trying to make himself as aerodynamic as possible, before letting out an "Eeeee!" as the world blurred around them.

[NuclearCommando]

Even as the wagon crashed through the closing gates, blossoming in hellish fire, Mason could suspect what the identity of the corpse like body was. Edge. He then cut off all telepathic contact with his blade, in order to keep his sister from knowing who-, no, what had just come into Seven Arrows again. They weren't the only oldies coming back, it seemed, but Edge was definitely the older horror.

As the Inquisitor lady put her boots to it's head, and made it look up, his suspicions were confirmed, and immediately it felt as though a spike of ice went through his heart. Reactively, he pulled his cloak's hood right over his head, and pulled a scroll out from his satchel. In response to Xiaomiao, he said "No, not quite. We still have to deal with a resurrected bastard, except it's someone we can't deal with. She's right, we had better leave. Seems Abaddon-like, not good at all."

[Mornings]

Part I: Seven Arrows
Main Quest: The Witch of Undercity
Difficulty: (3) Medium | Reward: (2) Low | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (0) None
Raph'æl has gone into hiding. At his summons you have returned to the great city of Seven-Arrows. In search of the elusive Bechal Rossfield, Raph'æl's contemporary enemy and bitter rival - you set off in search of the faceless Witch of Undercity; Gal'bertel S'Sisery. While no one knows what S'Sisery looks like, it is no mystery as to where he dwells: Now each of you make for Romere's Tower, a heavily guarded mechanical-wonder which wandered about thickly crowded Lantern District. Possessing within it the only gate into Undercity. The Warren Trading Company closely manages all traffic in and out of the gate. Entering would prove no problem, but emerging from the city again would be another matter entirely...

Neth the 3rd, Oathday - 4:34 PM / AR 4732
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
District: Low-Castle; - Outside Vornheim


http://i.imgur.com/ZQImo71.jpg



[The Heros Of Low-Castle: Xiaomiao / Mason / Stredexon]


The Black Skull, formerly, Edward Prospero, stretched out his arms wide - his back bent so far his head nearly touched the ground. He rose to his feet in an effortless and supernatural manner. The grin plastered upon his crazed face was stained with some foul ecstasy. "The Father has blessed this day. Many Children shall rise from The Ancient One's fury - My path is revealed... Show me Inquisitor, show me what designs The Father has given you." With a frozen toothy grin he slid forward, his feet not leaving the ground, but rather, dragging beneath him like some living corpse. With a sharp and contrastingly swift motion he kicked up the hilt of the great stone blade. Inquisitor Sterling turned away without a word and made for the large gate further in the distance up into High-Castle. Edge cackled madly, a rasping raucous laughter as he begun screaming out some infernal song as he slowly followed with slithering steps. His twisted hymn echoed from the walls sending both soldiers and residents into panicked flight, scrambling to shelter themselves in doors - The most infamous murderer to walk Varisia had returned to Seven Arrows.



"Faster than the wind we rode!
"To where our blackened hordes dawned!"

"Armed in the fires of combat!"
"The end will come fast on this day!"

"Stronger than the gods we fought!"
"Triumphant for dark prophecies!"

"Besiege the thrones of reverence!"
"FATHER OF ALL FIERY FATE!"

"Besiege the thrones of reverence!"
"Warriors will be crowned this day!"

Not bothering to see what would develop from the chaos which quickly unfolded about them; Dark shadows dancing, gunfire sounding, infernal song-singing, and the bay of horses and cries from the ramparts... It was enough to know it was time to get out of there, and quickly. La'Min, lifted Therin upon her back as she frantically glanced about - where to go? Where would she go? Even she couldn't be sure - so she followed her first instinct.





High-Castle: La'Min / Therin

With a sudden step, her foot cracked the stone beneath her. Veins of fragmented mortor and cobbled limestone fissured out in all directions as her muscles flexed and tightened. A slight pause. With a suddenly crushingly powerful push from the stone, she broke into a dead sprint. A sonic explosion cascaded from under her feet and showered those about her with a rain of small rocks and dirt. The sudden acceleration nearly ripped Therin's arms from their place as he was suddenly catapulted through the fortress-city. The windy gales assaulted him and dried out his eyes as a small beetle was smashed upon his forehead. Vision became a stream of grey-colors and motion, only a small tunnel of sight of what lay before them remained in focus. Massive buildings passed with sudden and extraordinary speed. La'Min's ears wriggled and flapped about like long fluffy streamers to patter the ratfolk's long nose as she ran. The image of men and soldiers all melded together in some indistinguishable blend of movement - The gate of Low-Castle Proper zipped by them and was gone. They had already left the lower city, raced along wooden paths and past parapets faster then anyone could even react. Low-Castle was behind them now. The massive grey stone of High-Castle surrounded them - the great clearings and plaza's of the city raced on by with little left to distinguish between them but the sudden flashes of their passing.

Cries surrounded them, the stop-motion-figures of citizens pointing to the sky filled their eyes and ears. Far-far above, bursts of light could be seen penetrating the thick oppressive haze, until suddenly an airship came spinning low - tied fast to a massive sheet of wrought-iron, as if it had been tied to dock then cut loose - dock and all. The crew frantically moved above, cutting the rope and sending the large sheet of metal flying off. The rusted chunk of metal crashed and whipped by them as they made their passing. It smashed into the ground before bouncing once and landing with a massive crash. They knew that ship - It was Mac Lir's! From the thick smog above great pieces of violet burning metal came crashing down from above in some unholy rain. With little choice, La'Min skidded to stop. Her feet slid across the thick stone leaving black burning streaks as a massive 20ft sheet of steel crashed down directly in front of them, spearing itself into the ground like a walk to block their passage. Still unable to stop, they softly crashed into the sheet of iron with a dull thud, knocking it over to slam on the ground. There was chaos within the city.



Mason's mind peeled back through those events so closely tied to the infernal plane of Abaddon. It was the preaching of Edward Prospero that had given rise to the deathcult within The Black Skulls. His teachings spoke of The Father's connection to the apocalyptic wasteland and the visions which he had been blessed with - the secrets of immortality. A gift to The Father's Children, that they may wage eternal combat with the Shir. An eternal war, which would wash the world in blood and purge those unworthy. The Chosen would rise to join in combat against the Shir, and when nothing was left - the enemy would be defeated, leaving only The Father's Chosen. Though the preaching sounded like only the words of a madman - with Edge's rise in power among his peers, changes could be felt by the Magicae of the Arcanium. In the final days of his bloody reign, a strange band of creatures came to Seven-Arrows and assisted Warren Trading and The Free Hands in defeating and subduing Edge. After, his well established 'death', it was revealed the crucial band of warriors were Dami-Anaeshem.

The revelation cemented Edge's authority as some form of divine-speaker and prophet for those Black Skulls loyal to his teachings. Things would never be the same again for the city of Seven-Arrows. A rash of terrorism and guerrilla war plagued the city. The radicalist-faction fully divided from the neutral and freedom-favoring Black Skulls which followed Menace. They were something else entirely - and murdered liberally. Whatever the connection - it was at least true Abaddon held some powerful influence for The Father's Chosen.

The cries from the ramparts could be heard echoing above from the guardsmen, "INQUISITORS! - INQUISITORS!" A band of The Clergy were at the gates. Dexon knew it was bad news when he heard it - The Inquisition; The heavy striking arm of The Altruistic Watch was not a force to be trifiled with. The Watch emerged after The Shattered Crusade, a coalition of men of every god - aligned to provide a strong and guiding path to the ignorant masses. They possessed a certain authority which dwarfed the courts and lordlings. A powerful, incorruptible law-arm which sought out and destroyed threats it deemed; a danger to humanity. Though their methods were questionable, their results were real - and tangible. They were perhaps one of the few groups which had made true and decisive headway in developing means to control and survive the curses of the Primal Storms and the terrible creatures which they created. When not enforcing law, or hunting supernatural beats - they made great and painful efforts to gather, detain and control any asset which they deemed useful in their quest to be rid of the unnatural influences of primal magic. Any individual blighted, scarred or contaminated by a storm - or effected by the strange enigma known as primal magic was pursued and persecuted by The Watch with the utmost prejudice. The Inquisitor, which Therin seemed to know spoke as if the symbols upon their hands somehow marked them in such a way. If it were true, they were surely in the worst possible place at the worst possible time. With simply an Inquisitor's word alone, they could become fugitives in an instant, should they resist arrest. The Free Hands desired no conflict with the dangerous group and thus did the soldiers and guardsmen of the city aptly oblige delegations from The Inquisition. The needed to get out of there, now. - The cry sounded from above. "Open the gates!"

It was no mystery to each of them the contents of their letter. They needed to seek out The Witch of Undercity. His location was easily divined - Romere's Tower. A mechanical construct which wandered The Lantern District in Inner Vornheim - They'd not even made it out of Low-Castle and things already seemed to sway out of their favor. High-Castle and Outer Vornheim still remained before they even arrived within the inner-city. A long ways to go...








(STARTED)Side Quest: Run Like Hell (Mythic)
Difficulty: (5) Extreme | Reward: (5) Unique | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
Freddrick Nagye has sought you out and is desperately pleading for you to take his employment to transport a small metal box of unknown origins. It is marked with The Black Brand, a seal only recognized by the criminal society, and inspires fear and dread in even the most hardened of crooks. Caring a Black Brand is as good as death to any man. No one knows what happens to those which have carried a Branded item, but they are never seen again. Be it standing on a stage, within a crowded room, or within a sealed vault. Something comes, and something spirits away the victims for eternity while reclaiming the marked object. It's only a short travel to Inner Vornheim, and the pay is good - but looking down at the box... You have a very bad feeling about this job.

Neth the 3rd, Oathday - 4:34 PM / AR 4732
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
District: High-Castle; - Outside Vornheim


http://i.imgur.com/ZQImo71.jpg



[The Heros From Afar: Mac Lir / Kourin Alekk Mak Esh]

Run Like Hell: Chase Scene 2 - Iron Rain

The great devil howled with deafening glee, caught in wild abandon as his blades thrashed, slashed, and cleaved. His great maw hissed with thick choking vaporous mist behind a toothy smile. The violet flame of the massive swords ran through hundreds of feet of steel as the monster fell after them, cutting aside swaths of rusting iron to clear a path for his massive fur-covered body. The vicious winds from the thrashing blade could be felt pressing upon both the men's backs with each passing swing of the terrible weapons. A rapid assault of bellowing gales battered them, as if they were within a storm of wind. Alekk focused his psionic powers releasing a wave of mental energy upon them both. Mac Lir felt his cloven and seared flesh knit under the psychic energy - though it did not restore the blood he'd lost, it gave him renewed vigor.

Not willing to waste the opportunity - the second wind, which Alekk had provided him, he stretched out his arms wide as they fell head-first through the iron shaft. The light peered through the spaced between the closely laid bars as they past with a blinding quickness as they passed at terminal velocity. He spun off to the side, kicking off a passing bar and diving back towards Alekk grabbing him out of the air as the wind buffeted them. The dark of the shaft's bottom came into view - and then then suddenly upon them.

With a sudden commanding thought, a burst of golden flecks of light showered from his body and both men abruptly stopped - his racial gifts of flight ceasing the fall immediately. With their nose to the flat of the elevator-box's floor, which lay smashed upon the bottom of the shaft, he released Alekk to sprint off and out of the dark shaft. Above he could see the dreadful sparks from Alastor's blades illuminate his face with each sundering blow. With still hands, he reached into a pouch, produced a feather - slamming it into the ground before exploding into a sudden and unexpected flash of sapphire light. Teleporting out of the shaft and resuming his sprint, he could see over his shoulder as the bottom of the tower exploded with a massive 60ft tree charging up to smash the devil in his face. A grunting and infuriated howl echoed out as the remains of the Sky-Landing's shaft detonated in a great and thunderous bloom of leaves and tree-limbs accompanied by splitting metal. The timber of the wood twisted, cracked and split as tree and tower came down in one mangled heap of smoking scrap.

Perhaps he would have felt some relief, but the victory was washed away from his mind as the sight of the remains of Sky Landing's 'crown' came toppling out from the grey smog in the sky. The frightful and unexpected sight set them both to running all the faster. The screams of the citizens surrounded them, the yells of guardsmen and soldiers as everyone ran for their lives beneath the iron rain.

(Small Debris)
The wave of falling iron levels a storm of blazing destruction upon those peoples within the heart of High-Castle as a sheet of blazing and sharp metal blades falls from above to rip, burn and pierce anyone unfortunate to catch any of the shrapnel.

Number of Threatening Objects ( [roll0] )
For each object you must succeed a DC [roll1] Acrobatics Check or take:
[roll2] Points of Piercing Damage and [roll3] Points of Fire Damage.

(Large Debris)
From the storm of falling iron thunders down large and massive chunks of severed steel which was cloven by Alastor's strikes. These massive sheets of metal range from 10ft to 30ft wide, and threaten to not only main or kill - but bury you beneath their mass and weight.

Number of Threatening Objects ( [roll4] )
For each object you must succeed a DC [roll5] Acrobatics Check or take:
[roll6] Points of Bludgeoning Damage - For each failure attempt a DC [roll7] Fortitude Save. On success, you only take half damage. Additionally, if you have taken damage from a large object, you must succeed a DC [roll8] Reflex Save or be pinned under iron scrap. (A pinned character is removed from the Chase until they have passed a DC22 Strength Check or DC22 Escape Artist Check to free themselves.)

[Felyndiira]

"Looks like you aren't the only one with that idea." Xiaomiao sighed, her eyes following the disappearing figures of the ratfolk and the bunny-girl as they rapidly disappeared from sight. She wanted to stay here for a bit longer, in reality - to help the lower castle merchants and townsfolk against this threat and perhaps earn her father's tradition that little bit of extra fame in Seven Arrows. However, the situation was rapidly devolving out of control; if even the inquisitors are likely to turn on them despite being Pathfinders, as Ms. Sterling had implied, then she would only contribute to the chaos of it all.

"Since it came to this, does anyone need a hand?" she asked tentatively, eyeing the scroll that Mason had retrieved. If no one responds, she would blur time a bit with her arts, and soar into the sky - darting directly in the direction of the high castle. "If not, then let us not wait around here any longer."

With haste provided by one of her maneuvers, Xiaomiao's maximum flying speed (while "running" in the air) is 100 x 4 = 400 ft. Every 9 rounds or so she'll slow to 100 ft., then proceed with her maximum speed again.

If anyone needs assistance, she'll take them with her. She will also try to identify Mason's scroll and equivocate-copy it if it's beneficial - spellcraft check below:

Spellcraft: [roll0]

[BizzaroStormy]

"We'd best hurry then..." Dexon slings his rifle low across his belly as his cloak billows. A pair of massive feathered wings with a bright metallic sheen unfurl through two long slits cut through the drab cape. He crouches slightly, wrapping an arm around Mason. "Hang on!" he times a short leap with a flap of his wings, bringing him and the surprisingly light sylph off the ground. It takes a moment to get used to the extra load, but he heads off towards the lantern district, albeit at a slower than normal pace.

Already cleared the pickup with nuclear via skype. The heavy load will slow me down to 75ft though.

[Tacitus]

Once Mac releases him, Alekk tumbles forward out of the elevator and up into a run at best speed and doesn't bother to turn at the sound of limbs and leaves bursting forth into the elevator shaft. He does, however, slow ever so slightly as the fiery debris begins to rain from above and spares a glance in Mac's direction. Where the essence of souls of graceful beings and dexterous heroes pulse in Alekk's frame, his companion seems to have no such boon. Though turning back for him would no doubt impact his own safety, Alekk cannot ignore that the man seems to be taking the worst of it and when he takes an otherwise fatal stumble the mishtai rushes in to bodily shove Mac out of the way of the worst of it. After a quick assist he chastises him, 'Keep moving, dammit! If you have any other fancy tricks, pull 'em out. My main tricks are pretty much keeping us breathing. Try not to stray further than about a hundred feet. Much further than that and my Collective gets fuzzy, and drops off entirely not too much farther out than that.' He focuses his mind again and begins channeling psychic energy beyond his normal capacity once again, this time to mend wounds and within seconds he can feel the wound in his back begin to close and the pain fade.

42/47 starting PP
Swift: Reallocate Essence. Changing Akashic Augmentation to Natural Healing and no other changes.
Overchanneling for 4 damage to self taking down some temp HP
1pp base for 3 healing, 4pp for +12 Healing, 1pp for +1 Target via [Network] augment, -1pp augment cost from Akashic Augmentation
End effect is 15hp healing to both Alekk Mak and Mac Lir for 5pp.
End PP 37/47

HP: 31/61+21 Temp HP
AC: 28/16/23
20% Miss Chance vs Melee and Ranged (DC 19 Disbelief)
Saves 10/9/16
Land Speed 40ft

Essence: Capacity 2 [+1 for one] DCs 11+E+Int. 11 Essence Total.
Veils:
[0] Riven Darts: X darts that deal 1d4+Xd4, no more than 2 darts per target. 20ft Ranged Touch as Standard
[3] Pestilence Cloak: 20% Miss Chance vs Range and Melee, Will Disbelief DC [16+X], Fly Clumsy 5+5Xft
[0] Ditchdigger Armlets: Full Round Act to create 10x10 difficult terrain, deals 1d6+Xd6 damage. 1d4 round cooldown
[2] Stalker's Tabi: +2+2X Acrobatics&Stealth

Feats:
[1] Akashic Augmentation: Chose a power. Cost is -X, only applies to Augments, can't reduce extra cost below 1. Can't invest more than power level
-Power Selected: Natural Healing

Racial:
[2] Speed: +10ft*X land speed.
[2] Natural Armor: +X Natural Armor
[1] Spines: Two 1d4 Spine attacks as primary natural weapons. Every odd after 1 adds +1 Enhancement

Charged Items:
[0] Wand of Lesser Restoration
[0] Wand of Cure Light Wounds
[0] Wand of Invisibility

[forg99rules]

Running away from the Elevator shaft Mac wasnt taking much notice of the debris falling around him, after dodging several small chunks he fails to notice the 2 large ones that are falling right in his path. after getting clipped by one of the pieces he stumbles right into the path of the other large piece. At this point Mac feels someone shove him out of the way to safety and hears Alekk in his head. "Thanks for the save, got only a Few tricks left and one of them might leave you behind if i use it to much". After having said his piece and feeling alittle more invigorated from whatever Alekk seemed to be doing to assist him Mac held a hand to his chest and cast a spell that would heal his wound even more. "Alright lets get going"

Casting Cure Serious Wounds rolled in OOC got a 22 total.

[NuclearCommando]

As Dex grabbed his hand, and began to fly, Mason cursed under his breath about his condition. It was an incredibly humbling experience, having been so capable with the arcane power that used to flow with him. But now, since his idiotic attempt at keeping his sister alive, he couldn't even cast a spell to lift him from the earth he was now bound to. Shameful, for a fellow with the blood of djinns, even if it was incredibly diluted.

But once more, he felt the banging in his head, as though some one was knocking against the barriers in his mind, coming from the likely annoyed Valentine that he had cut off from listening to his thoughts. He did not, and would not let her know who had returned from what they had assumed was death. She needed no more feelings of helplessness in her state, not as much he had already put her through.

Mason grimaced, and yelled to Dex from his rather embarrassing place in Dex's arms, "The Witch doesn't wait for us, so we'd better hurry to her. We all owe Rapael enough to concentrate on his directive for now. I want to find out what the HELL just happened, but think of nothing but what we must do. We'll have time to confront the Dawnhammer, and that Inquisitor later."

What he wanted to add to his previous sentence, but did not say, was "I hope."

[Fii]

"Therin, you alright?" La'Min asked with great concern, feeling increasingly nervous about the sudden intensity of their situation. Her heart was pounding in her elongated ears as her crimson eyes frantically scanned her surroundings. She couldn't shake the unsettling feeling in her stomach that this may well be the most danger she'd ever faced. She had to choose between risking being caught by the inquisitors of whom she knew very little, and risking falling hapless victim to the torrential downpour of debris raining from the sky. She hesitated for a moment, contemplating her options.

I can't go back..and it'll only be harder if I wait.. oh Luck be with us, we need you.. La'Min's thoughts raced as she deliberated, deciding that if luck were willing, she and her companion should make it through alive. She pressed forward at a fast-walk's pace, clasping her platinum holy symbol so tightly in one hand that it almost hurt as she tried to keep her thoughts focused on her current task. If not for the rush of adrenaline, she knew that she'd probably be panicking.

What if we do make it? We still have to get through Vornheim.. There was an unpleasant thought, and one she couldn't seem to avoid. She knew that, as an animalkin, she and Therin were not welcome in Vornheim. ..and all to reach a witch, too..are they the reason for all of this bad luck?..they must be.. It was an easy conclusion for her to reach, considering just how notorious witches were for being bearers of misfortune. She kept moving, though, and as the sky above became more ominous and the path ahead more treacherous, her thoughts returned to her current predicament.

[Triskavanski]

"Y.. yes.. just fine, Love. A little dislocated arms never did hurt no one." He lets out a small chuckle, as he attempts to make light of the situation they were in. It was his way after all. Smile and the the world smiles with you.

You only ever truly die if you cannot smile no longer. "Are ya feet okay? I think ya might have left them back there at those burn marks. That ship up there might be able to help us get out of here. Some bloke named Mac owns it." He points up into the sky towards teh ship, before glancing back down to her and around their surroundings.

[Fii]

"Glad you're fine..I'll mend your arms if they need it when we're safe, but I am not going on a ship. That just isn't going to happen..we have enough bad luck to deal with, we don't need to add more by bringing a woman aboard a ship. No way..didn't you see the metal? Pretty sure that came -from- the ship.. My feet are fine, we're much safer down here I guarantee it.."

La'Min could hardly believe that Therin would even suggest that the ship could get them out of here, especially in a time like this.. Didn't he know how unlucky that was? Perhaps he did not, in which case, she mentally resolved to teach him just as soon as they were safe. He'd thank her later, or so she thought.

[Felyndiira]

"That works, too."

She stared at Stredexon's wings as they unfolded, momentarily admiring them as if they were an ideal. Her father's teachings - the dojo of the formerly revered Tianmen sect and its martial arts, held something this as its pinnacle. To step through the doors of heaven, shedding one's mortality and becoming one with the celestial hosts themselves: the students of the sect would often cultivate for years in pursuit of this goal. Though this wasn't the first time she had heard of Stredexon's heritage, the appearance of those wings struck her with momentary pause as she stared, a bit dumbfounded, at the departing angel.

The madman's rants brought the girl back to reality. She glanced one final time at the battle between the inquisitor and the man who could only be described as a devil, observing that the inquisitor, too, was fleeing deeper into the city. A part of her still wished to remain - to assist, if not the Altruistic Watch, the less fortunate merchants who were caught between the crossfire, but she knew she was still too young. Too inexperienced and too weak to be of any help when even the inquisitors would turn against her.

"Sorry, father," she whispered. The girl whispered something, and produced a translucent, human-sized, wing-shaped sigil from her back as she launched herself into the air, leaving a faint trail of snow behind her. It took her no time to catch up with the half-celestial and Mason, though she hovered just in front of the pair, her fists readied to protect them from anyone who would dare attempt to harm them.

Since Strex is under a heavy load, he could only "run" at a maximum of 75 x 3 = 225 ft. per second. Xiaomiao will catch up with him, then slow down to about this speed so that she's always a bit before them so that she can respond to any threats against them appropriately.

[Mornings]

Part I: Seven Arrows
Main Quest: The Witch of Undercity
Difficulty: (3) Medium | Reward: (2) Low | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (0) None
Raph'æl has gone into hiding. At his summons you have returned to the great city of Seven-Arrows. In search of the elusive Bechal Rossfield, Raph'æl's contemporary enemy and bitter rival - you set off in search of the faceless Witch of Undercity; Gal'bertel S'Sisery. While no one knows what S'Sisery looks like, it is no mystery as to where he dwells: Now each of you make for Romere's Tower, a heavily guarded mechanical-wonder which wandered about thickly crowded Lantern District. Possessing within it the only gate into Undercity. The Warren Trading Company closely manages all traffic in and out of the gate. Entering would prove no problem, but emerging from the city again would be another matter entirely...

Neth the 3rd, Oathday - 4:36 PM / AR 4732
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
District: Low-Castle; - Outside Vornheim


http://i.imgur.com/ZQImo71.jpg



[The Heros Of Low-Castle: Xiaomiao / Mason / Stredexon]


They flew up above the sturdy stone buildings of Low-Castle. The distant shouts from behind them were indistinguishable, but their purpose became clear. A great groaning as the massive cavernous doors of the gate opened behind them. Figures shrouded in dark cloaks and decorative veils road within the plaza upon black horses. Inquisitors. There were many of them, perhaps 20 in total, now far behind them. The sight of the large congregation behind them hinted at something else, some plan of The Altruistic Watch in motion. Ahead of them the great gates of High-Castle loomed. Much like the gates of Low-Castle the entrance was massive and impeding. Easily 600ft of living stone stretching up into the sky like some monolith defending those within. There were no ramparts - The Sparrows didn't need them. They ran upon the stone and the edges of the walls with infallible grace. One of the men stood upon the face of one of the great statues carved into the face of the cliff-like gate. One hand grasping the figure's stone nose, and the other flagging the flying lot with his rifle calling out. "Mind the flying! Warren's given orders to gun down anything flying into Vornheim - and any suspicious demi-humans" The politically correct term for the strange and monstrous races. "...So keep the weird stuff at a minimum. Welcome to High-Castle." The vastly undefined definition of suspicious demi-humans was more often then not the bane of their existence and the loop-hole which permitted great acts of extreme misuses of authority against the lesser races. In the far distance shapes came tumbling down from the smog filled sky silently as if they were large bits of snow. But the vaguely visible destruction was hardly a product of the weather - something was afoot within the town. Something powerful.









(STARTED)Side Quest: Run Like Hell (Mythic)
Difficulty: (5) Extreme | Reward: (5) Unique | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
Freddrick Nagye has sought you out and is desperately pleading for you to take his employment to transport a small metal box of unknown origins. It is marked with The Black Brand, a seal only recognized by the criminal society, and inspires fear and dread in even the most hardened of crooks. Caring a Black Brand is as good as death to any man. No one knows what happens to those which have carried a Branded item, but they are never seen again. Be it standing on a stage, within a crowded room, or within a sealed vault. Something comes, and something spirits away the victims for eternity while reclaiming the marked object. It's only a short travel to Inner Vornheim, and the pay is good - but looking down at the box... You have a very bad feeling about this job.

Neth the 3rd, Oathday - 4:34 PM / AR 4732
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
District: High-Castle; - Outside Vornheim


http://i.imgur.com/ZQImo71.jpg



[The Heros From Afar: Mac Lir / Kourin Alekk Mak Esh / La'Min / Therin]


Run Like Hell: Chase Scene 3 - A Rock & Hard Place

La'Min and Therin raced forward at blinding speed tumbling into the flaming rain of iron shrapnel. Sharpened bits of bladed steel flurried down nipping, clipping and snapping at them. The flame and intensity of the burning violet flames was stifling and burned. A pair of familiar faces could be seen ahead. Alekk dodged through the metal downpour as Mac Lir was struck one, twice, then a third time by a massive passing sheet of steel slashing deeply into his shoulder as Alekk dived into him knocking him out of the path. The whirling iron platter roughly split a passing woman in two in a violent spray of gore as the debris whipped past showering them in a splattering cloud of blood. A shadowy elf danced through the flaming iron, La'Min had seen the elf before - Therin had as well, but he couldn't remember where. It had been sometime since they had associated with the peoples of Inner Vornheim. Mac glanced over his shoulder, putting a name to a face in an instant as he saw the frightful assassin nimbly dance through the desolation which destroyed the ground - Galilandra L'Zanili. The name was enough to make any smuggler wince. She was not a face any man with plenty of enemies wanted to see. The Key Enforcer of The Free Hands, many men, men he knew had crossed The Free in the wrong kind of way. The last thing they saw was nothing at all. You didn't see L'Zanili unless she wanted to be seen. Fortunately, he had a productive relationship with The Free Hands - namely not stepping on anyone's toes within Inner Vornheim. Bursts of shadowy flame ruptured out from her as she phased through the large debris which blocked her path. La'Min, jumped, skipped and tumbled through the clutter filled ground, no longer able to freely move through the absurd terrain. The assassin ran along-side Mac - her voice was low and toneless yet strangely audible even in the chaos around them. "Hello, smuggler.... Peters is dead. The Free have purchased your contract. You are to deliver the box to Richel Gavery in The Under Heights of Outer Vornheim. Fail, and you'll owe The L'Zanili Family. Good luck." With a short leaping spin her figure evaporated into a burst of shade. The Free Hands had purchased his contract. He had an even worse feeling about this now... The Great Powers of the city were vying for control of whatever it was he was carrying. It was likely that Galilandra had killed Peters herself, and that The Free simply intended to commandeer his mission without bothering to come to any formal agreement with Warren Trading. A bold move. But with no one to deliver the package to, he had to decide - should he carry on? Deliver the parcel to Gavery? Or press forward to The Lantern District, which was much further past The Under Heights - hoping that someone would be there to relieve him of his burden. If Peters was dead, it was most certain that his payment had been confiscated as well... There was truly no winning option. A great earth-shaking roar ripped him from his thoughts. An eruption of violet light decimated the fastly crumbling Sky Landing. The air condense filling with humid moisture as they ran.

The great gates of Vornheim came into view as massive billowing clouds descended upon them. Strange beastly shapes cast twitching shadows upon the misty walls which encapsulated all of them. The shape of a massive devil wielding terrible swords reeled back then crashed forward. A storm of motion and wickedly thrashing silhouettes converged from all directions.


THE DECISION:
With Peters dead, the original objective no longer exists. Now the quest holder must decide - Continue working for his original employer? Or deliver the deadly package to The Free Hands, at a closer location? Rewards differ for quest completion with each option.

(Parting Mist)
The strange supernatural mist is filled with the shadow of Alastor (visible to all creatures) as they run through the the iron littered streets. The shadows appear from all sides! The mist converges upon them! The mighty beast leers down upon them, then suddenly strikes out from the obscuring clouds which cycle about them. PC's must make Four DC+5 [roll0] Perception Checks to determine which of the shadows is real. Creatures who cannot see Alastor take a -4 Circumstance Penalty to each of these Checks (La'Min / Therin). Upon failure, a creature is struck by Alastor's sword and suffers:


Hit 1: [roll1] Points of Slashing Damage and [roll2] Points of Fire Damage
Hit 2: [roll3] Points of Slashing Damage and [roll4] Points of Fire Damage
Hit 3: [roll5] Points of Slashing Damage and [roll6] Points of Fire Damage
Hit 4: [roll7] Points of Slashing Damage and [roll8] Points of Fire Damage

Creature's struck may make a [roll9] Reflex Save for half damage for each failed Perception Check




ASCENSION

Advancement: First Side Quest Started


Ascension Surge:You have unlocked a small measure of your divine power. This new fraction of divinity has graced you with a new awareness. The perception of Causality and Time. You have learned to tap into it, bend it and even re-write it. Changing events which may have occurred at your very whim. However this power is extremely limited and consumes a large portion of your achieved divinity with each use.

Performing an Ascension Surge consumed one point of Ascension. Unlike Mythic Power used to perform a Mythic Surge, these points will never be restored. More points can be gained by completing challenging events and Side Quests, but otherwise provide an extremely limited pool. Ascension Points can provided numerous static benefits for having them - however these abilities are unlocked with future Ascension Advancements and are unavailable while starting. Choosing when to expend Ascension Points should be considered very carefully as you will not be getting them back, and it will decrease the effectiveness of numerous future Ascension Abilities gained in the future.

Use: You may expend 1 Point of Ascension as an Immediate Action at any point you desire. This Immediate Action does not count against your actions during your following round as would a traditional Immediate Action. Furthermore, a conventional Immediate Action may be taken with, during, or in conjunction with an Ascension Surge.

After making any single roll, you may roll again (This need not be on a d20). Take the higher of the two results. If the new result would still fail, then take the higher of the two results - This result receives a +20 Untyped Bonus to the attempt. If the result would succeed - It succeeds as if you have made a Critical Success (Nat 20). Attacks confirmed in this manner do not need to confirm Critical Threat and pass automatically. If the result does not pass even with the applied Untyped Bonus, the result fails as normal and the Ascension Surge is wasted. Use of Ascension Surge to accomplish a task does so with extreme and often impossible results and should be used only while in the greatest need.


ASCENSION POINTS GAINED: 4
(+1) Extreme Difficulty | (+1) LoFP: Challenging | (+1) Mythic | (1 Points) Default




As the sudden roar bellowed out and the sky seemingly came crushing down upon them, a brilliant surge of golden light ruptured forth from their hands like a sun-born stream. The golden luminescence cascaded outward and crashed into the passing buildings and debris pushing everything aside for a brief moment. The sudden surge of mystical energy filled La'Min and Therin. The violent surge of divinity imploded, rushing back into the seal upon their hands, filling the rules which encircled the sigil with fierce golden radiance. Somewhere, distantly, they could hear a woman sing...


Then it was gone.

[Triskavanski]

Glancing about as rocks and shards of metal fall from the sky, he put his trust in La'Min to dodge what she could, turning his head away as the woman was bisected in a messy spray of bodily fluids. He didn't care much about the elf at the moment, feeling a tad uneasy.

Whatever was happening, it was happening bad, really bad. Thats when he noticed.. That shadow he saw just after that scene down in the lower castle. Glancing up, he squinted slightly, sniffing the air.

Something was pretty rich up there.. Rich and dangerous. "Look out, love!" he cried out leaning away from the blade as it shimmers in front of him. Then again, he moved to get out of the blades way.. It was the third time out of the set of four that he could really feel the heat of the blade emanating from it. Had he noticed even a hair too late, he was going to have more a few singed whiskers. That much was certain.



[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]




[roll4]
[roll5]
[roll6]
[roll7]

[Felyndiira]

Xiaomiao complied with the guardsman's request, landing softly before stepping into the high-castle gates. Unlike the Low-Castle, this was a place that she rarely stepped foot into, except for those sparse occasions when her mission would take her here. To her, High-Castle felt...a bit gaudy; in contrast to the familiar artisans and worksmen of low-castle, high castle was all about the Free Traders. The Warrens. People who acquired power perhaps undeservedly and flaunt it around whenever it pleased them, and remade the city to their wills. It had little of the same working spirit that the people of Low-Castle would often wear proudly on their chests, and thus, as she looked on at the perfectly arranged buildings of this part of the city, she felt as if she was a street-rat gazing upon a palace.

"Sorry, we were not aware, yes," she replied, waving at the guardsman with a falsely cheerful smile. Her eyes scanned the behemoths that towered over the city with a sense of curiosity, seemingly looking past their majesty and trying to discern some quasi-philosophical quality about them that only she could understand. "I wonder how many of these buildings are not owned by them?" she mused, continuing her steady scroll down the main street. Eventually, the girl's eyes came to rest on the unnatural phenomenon in the distance, and the false smile disappeared from her countenance.

"That's rather unusual," Xiaomiao shouted. She gestured towards the smog visible from a distance, glancing toward her companions but speaking loudly enough so that even the gate watchmen could hear her. "Is that something that's normally happens in High-Castle, yes? Perhaps that's something that the Warren Company should look into."

"If I remember correctly, the other two came in this direction as well," she added, remembering the sigils on Therin and La'Min's hands.

[BizzaroStormy]

Dexon groans and sighs like a teenager asked to take out the garbage as he completes most of a loop and dives toward the ground with Mason in tow. As he nears the ground, a few flaps of his large wings bring the two of them to a rather abrupt stop just a foot or two off the ground before he lets Mason go, allowing him to get his own feet on the ground as well.

"That guy is really beginning to burn my tail. Every week or so, its some new arbitrary rule. They don't necessarily own all the buildings. ...at least not mine... Though they do have a stake in most of the business that goes on around here. Generally they aren't a problem as long as you don't mess with the local economy." As he speaks, he doesn't appear particularly proud of his 'neighbors' behavior, through he appears to have a healthy respect for the organization.

He doesn't lose his stride despite the strangeness ahead of him and the other two, in fact, he silently picks up the pace towards it, casually bringing his rifle into a low ready position.

[NuclearCommando]

As Xiaomiao complied with the demands of the guard, and set down into High Castle, Mason let out a sigh, looking around to find that all of High Castle was just as he had left it. The Warrens still controlled it, and the guard was likely in the employ in one of the two High Castle level gangs. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to grit his teeth in his frustration, his inability to make a change in what plagued his "home" city, or whether to enjoy what brief sights he was gonna have of it while he was still in the city.

He let low his mental barriers, immediately feeling a similar feeling of frustration coming from his blade, as well as a new sensation that he hadn't expected. Fear. Emanating from anyone else who'd been through what they had been through, fear was what Mason expected, but his sister was the one pillar of strength he'd held on to for that past year, and to feel her fear was not exactly comforting for him. High Castle brought back memories, no doubt, and not many were good enough to stand out from the events of right before he fled the city, but he did not feel fear from them.

The second Val realized that Mason was peering into her feelings, she immediately adopted an attitude of anger, exclaiming "You're an idiot. Why'd you do that? Who was that creep from the wa-"

"Not now, sis."

She immediately quietened down, realizing that she wasn't hiding anything from her brother. She'd tried her best to keep her cool, and be a bastion of calm for her brother, but it was a bit hard to do that when she was surrounded by things that continuously reminded her of the very experience of death. It had been surprisingly painless, but it was still a traumatic experience for her, and sometimes, she simply let it through her mental guard.

Mason shook his head, gesturing his thanks to Stredexon as he dusted off his cloak, and pulling his hood off. He looked at the guard, and said "Right, Warren's orders. As you'll notice, we're all mostly human here, so don't worry, we won't be causing any chaos. At least, not any more than the nonsense going on around us right now."

As they walked away from the guard, he replied to Xiaomiao rather quietly, not wanting any of the guards to hear his slightly offensive remark, "Warren's not gonna do much unle-". He trailed off as his eyes lay on the disturbance in the sky that Xiaomiao was referring to, and frowned. "Uh, right, yeah, what in the planes are we looking at?"

[Fii]

La'Min felt a jolt down her spine as she realized the extent of the hellish scene unfurling around her. Never in all of her life had she been so overwhelmed with or so motivated by fear as she was now. She did her best to avoid the burning rain of stinging metal, taking an erratic path as her gut directed. She did her best to evade the torrent of falling debris, but found the pungent smell unavoidable. It was, for her, the epitome of unpleasantness.

Every sound amid the chaos seemed magnified and warped to her, as if she were hearing them all from underwater. She did her best to navigate an erratic path through the cascades of blazing shrapnel to try to catch up to Mac Lir and Alekk. She winced at the sight of the woman being haplessly guillotined in twine. The dancing elven figure only added to her sense of unease.

When the unnatural mist settled in around her, she clutched her holy symbol as though it could banish her misfortunes. "I'm trying Therin!" she exclaimed, her voice betraying her terror. Her heart pounded in her ears as she practically felt the fires of hell emanating from the glinting razor-sharp blades that came striking from above. She did her best to avoid them, the traumatic sight of that poor woman split asunder still fresh on her mind, and her blood still fresh on her blouse. Her mind whispered frantic prayers to her god in the desperate hope of getting out alive and unharmed. Please let us get out alive, please let us get out alive..

[forg99rules]

As Mac looked over his shoulder and saw Galilandra he thought to himself "Well ****". Mac was slightly confused as to why The Free Hands would be taking over the contract. He knew that Galilandra had killed Peter that much was certain, he also knew that if he could find someone of warrens in the Lantern District that he could give this package to that he would still get his reward. "Aight screw The Free Hands, I never go back on a contract even when the person i was told to bring it to is dead, Especially when i know he was just a drop point.". Looking around quickly as the Misty Walls surrounded them he noticed the other 2 pathfinders and knew that he could send them ahead to try and find someone to give the package to. "Alekk if you could link with them and get one of them to get to the Lantern district and find one of warrens men to turn this damn thing over to that would be great." As the shape of demon came from the mist Mac had no problem dodging each of the blows as he could easily see what was true and what was false.


Perception is at a +14 so auto pass for all the checks

[Felyndiira]

"What we are looking at. Um..." Xiaomiao's voice trailed off for a moment; the storm appeared to be some sort of black hailstorm, though it was not something that can be explained by a natural phenomenon. Perhaps it was some form of tempering by one of the great organizations in the Inner Castle? Magical research? As she tried to think of a cause for the black cloud, the girl's eyes fell on Stredexon moving quickly toward the cloud; she let out a sigh, seemingly a bit annoyed, but continued with a playful voice that did not match her expression.

"I think we're looking at Dexie heading alone towards that cloud thing." The girl's quickened her own pace, eventually moving at a near-sprint toward her gun-totting companion. "Oi, Dexie! Wait for us! You are not planning on becoming the protagonist of this Chronicle by yourself, yes?"

[Mornings]

Part I: Seven Arrows
Main Quest: The Witch of Undercity
Difficulty: (3) Medium | Reward: (2) Low | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (0) None
Raph'æl has gone into hiding. At his summons you have returned to the great city of Seven-Arrows. In search of the elusive Bechal Rossfield, Raph'æl's contemporary enemy and bitter rival - you set off in search of the faceless Witch of Undercity; Gal'bertel S'Sisery. While no one knows what S'Sisery looks like, it is no mystery as to where he dwells: Now each of you make for Romere's Tower, a heavily guarded mechanical-wonder which wandered about thickly crowded Lantern District. Possessing within it the only gate into Undercity. The Warren Trading Company closely manages all traffic in and out of the gate. Entering would prove no problem, but emerging from the city again would be another matter entirely...

Neth the 3rd, Oathday - 4:37 PM / AR 4732
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
District: High-Castle; - Outside Vornheim


http://i.imgur.com/ZQImo71.jpg



[The Heros Of Low-Castle: Xiaomiao / Mason / Stredexon]


High-Castle was the bridge between the cities of Vornheim and the outer districts which encompassed the more hardy working-class. Caught between the grandiose splendor of Vornheim and the rough and functional simplicity of The Outer Districts, High-Castle had a very solid, polished and refined feel to it. Though it was in effect another castle-town, a citadel which loomed over Low-Castle. The influence of the great criminal organizations did extend out to High-Castle, but their presence, unlike within Vornheim was nearly non-existent. High-Castle was left to The Sparrows. While not owing true allegiance to any group, they maintained a policy of compliance as to keep High-Castle free of the politics and fervent dogma of the initiated. The buildings were taller, the stones - sturdier. The guardsmen and soldier's wore well polished armor. The city had no Watch - they were professional soldiers, less interested in lawmaking and more interested in combating the enemy. The closest body which resembled some semblance of law-enforcer outside of Vornheim were the slivered-rifled Sparrows. The Knightly Orders did not leave the inner-city, and did not man the ramparts or mingle with the common folk beneath the wall. Within the city, their voice was law - and that voice was paid for by The Free Hands. The small towns owned by the gangs of the city each had their own laws and those which enforced them. The Lantern District, the objective Raph'æl had set for them was owned and controlled by Warren Trading, but resembled Low-Castle in its population and quality of its structures. A rare oasis in the desert of scorn and fear of demi-humans that plagued the inner cities.

Xiaomiao's words reached The Sparrow perched upon the high walls. Swinging about and landing on a perch high above, he took out a worn brass telescope while singing his rifle. Looking out at the strange sight in the distance he squinted as if trying to make heads or tails of what he was looking at. After a brief pause, he quickly stored the object and slid out a small single-chambered snub-nosed pistol pointing it in the air. He fired a flare up into the sky with a muffled burst. The bright red light flashed out shortly, then in the distance similar flares reared up into the sky. "Something's moving towards the Vornheim gate, and causing a hell of'a mess in the process." A loud laughter echoed off the walls from behind them, with a grinding sound as a familiar face emerged. It was Edge. "Yes! It is true! The Wicked Beast has come to find The Father's Chosen! I must see him! The Father demands it! Hahahaha!" The man-man sprinted off dragging the massive stone sword behind him laughing as he went. The Sparrow quickly snapped the bolt-action weapon into hand and CRACK. Fired a shot off into the distance, placing the bullet in the back of the man's head, watching him fall to the ground with a satisfied grin. "God. I hate Black Skulls..."

The mirth was short lived however. Edge rose up from the ground once more and begun sprinting away again, cackling like some rough-voiced creature. The Sparrow blinked in disbelief, positive he'd gunned the man down.








(STARTED)Side Quest: Run Like Hell (Mythic)
Difficulty: (5) Extreme | Reward: (5) Unique | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
Freddrick Nagye has sought you out and is desperately pleading for you to take his employment to transport a small metal box of unknown origins. It is marked with The Black Brand, a seal only recognized by the criminal society, and inspires fear and dread in even the most hardened of crooks. Caring a Black Brand is as good as death to any man. No one knows what happens to those which have carried a Branded item, but they are never seen again. Be it standing on a stage, within a crowded room, or within a sealed vault. Something comes, and something spirits away the victims for eternity while reclaiming the marked object. It's only a short travel to Inner Vornheim, and the pay is good - but looking down at the box... You have a very bad feeling about this job.

Neth the 3rd, Oathday - 4:37 PM / AR 4732
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
District: High-Castle; - Outside Vornheim


http://i.imgur.com/ZQImo71.jpg



[The Heros From Afar: Mac Lir / Kourin Alekk Mak Esh / La'Min / Therin]


Run Like Hell: Chase Scene 4 - Tempest

The gates to Outer Vornheim lingered in the distance. The twisting gate of tree's stood like a sentinel upon their horizon. The whirling mists divided as Alastor sweeped through with raging careless blades of flame. Though La'Min and Therin couldn't see anything inparticular, the ferocity of the shadows as they lashed out was enough to predict where the beast would emerge. The weave of the blades passed over them as the devil crashed by overhead.

Without wasting a moment, the beast roared in glee, evidently enjoying the wild chase. With a sudden explosion of emerald light, the arch-devil was gone. Then suddenly, the creature appeared before them in a blinding flash and cascading blast of sound. Both his swords thrust forward and into the earth before he violenty ripped both blades up into the air and unleashed wide furious slashes which cleaved down the alley of stone double-story homes on either side of the litter-filled street. The explosion of earth and stone in the sudden wrathful series of attacks washed over them like a storm.

THE SURPRISE:
Alastor's failed attack sent him hurtling over the party in a wild bladed spin. Yet as suddenly as the devil had appeared - he vanished in a burst of arcane magic. Suddenly and without warning the arch-devil appeared again in front of the party and lashing out with his terrible swords. Creatures that can see Alastor must succeed a DC [roll0] Will Save to avoid becoming suddenly frightened by the great devil's sudden attack. Creature's that cannot see Alastor automatically fail this check and are surprised.

(Surprised Creatures)
A surprised creature suffers -4 on all Checks during this scene against Alastor, and are at risk of being caught in his initial attack. Surprised creature's must succeed a DC [roll1] Reflex Save to avoid being struck under the assault and being thrown into the air by Alastor's attack. A creature who fails this save suffers [roll2] Points of Slashing Damage and an additional [roll3] Points of Fire Damage. A creature who is struck is cast backwards and thrown 30ft into the air. The creature may attempt a DC [roll4] Fortitude Save to avoid becoming Stunned during this scene. A stunned creature falls to the earth slamming into the sharp and jagged debris for an additional [roll5] Points of Bludgeoning and Piercing Damage.

(Stone Blast)
Avoiding Alastor's surprise attack, you manage to hold you ground while charging forward around the devil. However, his blades cleave off the tops of the stone home's around you and rain down large and heavy boulders which threaten to crush you instantly. With quick and darting maneuvers you attempt to spring out from under the landslide of rubble. Creatures who have not been thrown by Alastor's surprise attack, including those who have successfully passed the Reflex Save against it, must make 3 Reflex Saves:


1.) DC [roll6] Reflex Save
2.) DC [roll7] Reflex Save
3.) DC [roll8] Reflex Save

Upon failing a Reflex Save, the creature takes:

1.) [roll9] Points of Bludgeoning Damage
2.) [roll10] Points of Bludgeoning Damage
3.) [roll11] Points of Bludgeoning Damage

Additionally, if you have taken damage from a boulder, you must succeed a DC [roll12] Reflex Save or be pinned under iron scrap. (A pinned character is removed from the Chase until they have passed a DC22 Strength Check or DC22 Escape Artist Check to free themselves.)

[Tacitus]

With clouds of mist flooding in and the destruction around them only increasing Alekk keeps moving at best speed. He focused on the mists, only barely taking note of the elf running alongside Mac as he threw himself out of the way of the great demon's strikes. When mentions the other Pathfinders he glances back and calls out loud, "Pathfinders! Incoming telepathic network, accept the pressure!" Immediately afterward a strange pulse echoes within Therin and La'Min's heads. It does not seem like a mental assault, but a soft pressure that resonates from their right temple with urgency but without the same mental force of an offensive attack. Once they have entered the Collective he speaks to them telepathically, 'We are delivering a package to the Lantern District. Our contact has been assassinated. If one of you has superior speed we need to find a representative of the Warren Trading Company to accept it. This Collective does not have unlimited range and a good sprint would quickly take someone outside it.' This is followed by a mental imagine showing the range as being what looks to be approximately one hundred and fifty feet.

37/47 starting PP
+17 Perception means I cannot fail those Perception checks.

Standard: Ping La'Min and Therin to enter the Collective

HP: 31/61+21 Temp HP
AC: 28/16/23
20% Miss Chance vs Melee and Ranged (DC 19 Disbelief)
Saves 10/9/16
Land Speed 40ft

Essence: Capacity 2 [+1 for one] DCs 11+E+Int. 11 Essence Total.
Veils:
[0] Riven Darts: X darts that deal 1d4+Xd4, no more than 2 darts per target. 20ft Ranged Touch as Standard
[3] Pestilence Cloak: 20% Miss Chance vs Range and Melee, Will Disbelief DC [16+X], Fly Clumsy 5+5Xft
[0] Ditchdigger Armlets: Full Round Act to create 10x10 difficult terrain, deals 1d6+Xd6 damage. 1d4 round cooldown
[2] Stalker's Tabi: +2+2X Acrobatics&Stealth

Feats:
[1] Akashic Augmentation: Chose a power. Cost is -X, only applies to Augments, can't reduce extra cost below 1. Can't invest more than power level
-Power Selected: Natural Healing

Racial:
[2] Speed: +10ft*X land speed.
[2] Natural Armor: +X Natural Armor
[1] Spines: Two 1d4 Spine attacks as primary natural weapons. Every odd after 1 adds +1 Enhancement

Charged Items:
[0] Wand of Lesser Restoration
[0] Wand of Cure Light Wounds
[0] Wand of Invisibility

[Felyndiira]

"Looks like trouble isn't waiting for anyone, either," the girl muttered under her breath.

Xiaomiao's leisurely pace was gone; like Stredexon a moment before, her speed increased to a full sprint, as if trying to mirror the clown-faced man's approach toward the ebon storm. Though she did not have the wing symbol this time, careful observation revealed that she's skating about a ruler's length from the floor. Briefly, she turned so that she was flying backwards, glancing at her companions and spoke - in a somewhat worry-less tone - before returning to her normal pace.

"The bunny and the mouse guy are somewhere in High Castle as well. La'mir and Therin, if I remember correctly - given their pace, they are probably already inside the storm. We have to at least find them before the clown does, yes?

Unless if someone stops her, Xiaomiao is going at full running+flying speed, skating off the ground (with her 100% supernatural flight) so that it doesn't seem like she's flying.

[BizzaroStormy]

Once again Stredexon's rifle is let loose to hang over his chest while he retrieves the launcher on his hip. "Find em' then, I'll see if I can slow down this yahoo!" He takes several quick steps forward to close the gap between himself and Edge before loading another of the thermite grenades and taking a shot at the fleeing clown.


Should be appropriate this time. Free actions to draw and load the launcher. move action to close distance, standard to fire.

[roll0]

[roll1]
[roll2]

[roll3]

[Triskavanski]

"A Package? All of this over a package!? Is that what the symbols are for? What the F*** is that!" He half spoke out loud, not used to having some sort of psychic connection.

A chill comes over his spine, as a the feeling of his immediate demise was rapidly approaching. Small bits of luck flutter off the ratfolk, but even that wasn't enough to stop the massive sword comes out of the shadows and mist, going strait for his head...


...Therin's life flashed before his eyes. Learning to make his first bomb, his thirteen brothers and sisters in the ratfolk warre Most of them weren't biological, but to a ratfolk like Therin that mattered very little. They did after all have a wonderful sense of community and often raised children together in a collective.

Of course the night when his village was raided, and destroyed, expunged from the maps. Something he still had to get revenge for, something he had to prevent from happening to someone else, something to live for..



A small grin covers his face as he lowers his gaze down to the point of the blade, feeling the world move around him in slow motion...

[Tacitus]

Alekk's keen eyes track Alastor flying over and ahead of them and he manages to throw himself out of the way of his first massive strike, but the ensuing destruction of the buildings nearby is much harder to avoid. The mishtai's legs burn from the effort of weaving around giant chunks of flung building as he replies to Therin telepathically, 'I didn't choose this, but I'm seeing it through.' A moment later the Collective gets a burst of static as Alekk realizes he won't be able to dodge the next piece of debris...

37/47 starting PP
Rolls in the OOC, failed a reflex and subsequent pin, pending Ascension Point expenditure by Therin will change how the post ends.

Current round is either trying to escape Pin or manifesting Vigor (w/ swift to move Akashic Augmentation) for 5pp and [roll0] overchannel
Escape Artist: [roll1]
or
5pp for 20 Temp HP to Therin, La'Min, and Mac.
End PP 32 or 37

HP: 31/61+21 Temp HP (either -21 or -the d8 above)
AC: 28/16/23
20% Miss Chance vs Melee and Ranged (DC 19 Disbelief)
Saves 10/9/16
Land Speed 40ft

Essence: Capacity 2 [+1 for one] DCs 11+E+Int. 11 Essence Total.
Veils:
[0] Riven Darts: X darts that deal 1d4+Xd4, no more than 2 darts per target. 20ft Ranged Touch as Standard
[3] Pestilence Cloak: 20% Miss Chance vs Range and Melee, Will Disbelief DC [16+X], Fly Clumsy 5+5Xft
[0] Ditchdigger Armlets: Full Round Act to create 10x10 difficult terrain, deals 1d6+Xd6 damage. 1d4 round cooldown
[2] Stalker's Tabi: +2+2X Acrobatics&Stealth

Feats:
[1] Akashic Augmentation: Chose a power. Cost is -X, only applies to Augments, can't reduce extra cost below 1. Can't invest more than power level
-Power Selected: Vigor

Racial:
[2] Speed: +10ft*X land speed.
[2] Natural Armor: +X Natural Armor
[1] Spines: Two 1d4 Spine attacks as primary natural weapons. Every odd after 1 adds +1 Enhancement

Charged Items:
[0] Wand of Lesser Restoration
[0] Wand of Cure Light Wounds
[0] Wand of Invisibility

[forg99rules]

Having dodged the attack from Alastor, Mac continued to push forward trying to get away from the bastard. Watching as the Devil vanished in a burst of arcane magic. "Maybe he decided to leave..." As Mac thought this he saw the Devil appear before him and the others. Dodging the swords causes Mac to look up and notice the Stones falling from above. He easily dances out of their path and hopes that the others are able to get out of the way also.

[NuclearCommando]

As the other Pathfinders decided to race forward, they left him in the dust, as he stayed back, standing stationary and staring at the rising body of Edge. He had eyes wide, and it took his mind a few seconds to look away and respond to his sister question of "What the hell? What the hell is that guy? He was there at the gate when you cu-" with "Cultist, and I don't like what kind of cultist he is. We'd better follow them."

Of course, he was dodging her question, since he didn't have the guts to lie to his sister, especially when said sister had access to the surface emotions of his head. So, packed the scroll in his hand back into his robe, and began rushing right after Xiaomiao, who was skidding off the ground like some kind of absurd hovercraft.

Once he caught up, he responded to Xiaomiao's statement in between huffs and puffs, speaking in whatever bursts of vocalization that he could "Yeah, more Pathfinders would be smart to gather, despite what I'd want to do right now. Which is not put up with Edge's existence over there. Side question, do we know these Pathfinders?"

Mason has a movespeed of 75ft, 5ft more than Xiaomiao, which is 20ft more than her at the x4 rate of running, so I should be able to catch up to her, acceleration factors and what not.

Although I feel like that's irrelevant, since it's entirely fluff. If you rule that I can't quite catch up due to her headstart, I can spend a scroll of Expeditious Retreat, and catch up. I think.

[Felyndiira]

Seeing Mason follow behind her, Xiaomiao adjusted her pace a bit to match that of her companion. "Oh, fellow understudies of Raph'el when he was still up and about. I'm sure you've heard of them before, even if we are not close acquaintances. Therin and La'min, if memory serves." The girl paused for a moment, looking somewhat thoughtful while still skating at the same pace, then lifted the bandages covering her right hand and revealed the branded seal from her sifu's letter. "Plus, I think they have this as well. If nothing else, the inquisitor from earlier - she seems to think so."

[Mornings]

(STARTED)Side Quest: Run Like Hell (Mythic)
Difficulty: (5) Extreme | Reward: (5) Unique | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
Freddrick Nagye has sought you out and is desperately pleading for you to take his employment to transport a small metal box of unknown origins. It is marked with The Black Brand, a seal only recognized by the criminal society, and inspires fear and dread in even the most hardened of crooks. Caring a Black Brand is as good as death to any man. No one knows what happens to those which have carried a Branded item, but they are never seen again. Be it standing on a stage, within a crowded room, or within a sealed vault. Something comes, and something spirits away the victims for eternity while reclaiming the marked object. It's only a short travel to Inner Vornheim, and the pay is good - but looking down at the box... You have a very bad feeling about this job.

Neth the 3rd, Oathday - 4:38 PM / AR 4732
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
District: High-Castle; - Outside Vornheim


http://i.imgur.com/ZQImo71.jpg




[The Ascendant Hero: Therin]


The deafening violence from Alastor's assault seemed to quiet and diminish. The thoughts and vision was hazy for Therin, and he looked down upon himself, as himself - as if removed and cast astray like some wandering soul. The distant screams and ache of simmering pain filled his senses. The resounding assault filled his senses - the terrible image of the Arch-Devil filled his eyes for the first time. There was only a crushing and mirthless dread that choked his heart as he watched himself rent asunder. The mighty flaming blade cleaving through sinew and bone to cast his arm aside and catapult into the air as the rain of heavy stone and steel from crumbling homes poured down upon his friends, catching Alekk squarely and crushing him underneath with a quaking thud. Mac Lir danced, tumbled and darted through with La'Min as they narrowly escaped the tempest. Somewhere in the distance, he saw himself land with a dull wet thud, splattered upon the ground as the jagged flaming iron spears reaching up from the stone skewered him. Perhaps he was dead... The thought was fleeting - he could feel his pulse pounding within his chest. It wasn't a dream. This was something else.

Darkness descended upon him

When he opened his eyes. He stood within some walless and dark chamber. There was no describable directions. No up. No down. There was no floor, nor ceiling. He was surrounded, engulfed within a deep and silent void. Slowly, his eyes came to adjust - the dim yet constant light crept within the void - the light of distant stars. There was a lean looking man who sat upon the surfaceless face of infinity, which he also stood. He needed not breath. Nor was he cold, or tired. His feet were as heavy here as they had ever been. Where ever this was - it was not the vacuum of the heavens above. The man, faceless, garbed in a heavy red cloak silently slid cards - Harrow, made of nothing but pulsing flame.

"...This great sacrifice you have made my friend, will be remembered - For all time." He raised a hand releasing a stream of hazy golden light into the dark and depthless dark far below them. It dissolved like sugar within a boiling lake. "I cannot repay the loss you've suffered - But here, within The Well of Eternal Night might you gleam some insight into the fates the world weaves of your future. My name is Astrok'Ru, and we've little time..." He touched the face of a card, and together they descended within the void.

http://i44.photobucket.com/albums/f7/DreadfulMorning/Beneath%20The%20Aphotic%20Veil/Flavor/dfas1%20-%20Copy%209%20-%20Copy%20-%20Copy_zpstersleey.jpg
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To worlds long before yours was made, we had lived. Together, with creatures far more ancient did we create such wondrous worlds - But we were not Gods, we were men who had become drunk upon our own power. We came from realms far removed from this one, and discovered a world of such promise, we took it for ourselves. Our pursuits drove us to venture and claim places best left alone. Places sacred to the Gods we pretended to be. I claimed The First World as my own - a realm which the Gods created long before mortals existed. A draft of the Prime Material which stood between the material plane, and the plane of shadow. My hubris left me cursed by the strange Fey-Gods who still remained. My brother, corrupted by the madness which I had unleashed drove our home, Carcosa, to ruin... My sister fled across the stars - with all who would come with her. The gates she built between the heavenly bodies forged an empire of a likeness your people have never seen. Yet the trials of many years would not find her people well. Our descendants would become as we were, and their hubris would be as our own. We returned to destroy them and let them begin again. The genesis of a new age. The reborn and vastly removed children of our people, who would call themselves Azlanti, would still find a fate written in tragedy...

Even still, this was not enough. Our brother, reborn as some terrible destruction-bound god cast his spear upon the worlds we had touched - rending them to ashes. Many times has he be rebuked by the gods of this world, stilling his hatred-clenched hand. Yet the last defense now crumbles as a spiteful witch prepares your world for extinction, a second time. His terrible beasts will slay the living, his spear will purge the surface of life. Allies gather, but a darkness lingers further then even my eyes can see. A terror far more ancient then even our crimes. You've the power to stop it - others have been prepared. Now fight.

Rise up, and fear nothing.

http://i44.photobucket.com/albums/f7/DreadfulMorning/Beneath%20The%20Aphotic%20Veil/Flavor/dfas1%20-%20Copy%209%20-%20Copy%20-%20Copy_zpstersleey.jpg
http://i44.photobucket.com/albums/f7/DreadfulMorning/Beneath%20The%20Aphotic%20Veil/Flavor/2_zpseqxxpitj.jpg
http://i44.photobucket.com/albums/f7/DreadfulMorning/Beneath%20The%20Aphotic%20Veil/Flavor/dfas1%20-%20Copy%209%20-%20Copy%20-%20Copy_zpstersleey.jpg
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[The Heros From Afar: Mac Lir / Kourin Alekk Mak Esh / La'Min / Therin / Xiaomiao / Mason]


After a long and exhausting sprint, weaving through the fallen debris and a pathway of destruction, Xiaomiao and Mason finally caught sight of the fleeing Pathfinders. Violent and explosive quakes roared through the street as some unseeable, unknowable terror rampaged about casting familiar-frightful shadows.

As suddenly as he had vanished, Alastor appeared once again directly before them. With a belching roar, he dived forth with his blades committed to ripping through the group and slashing apart the buildings on either side of the street - a familiar sight for Therin, he knew what would come next. This time wouldn't be the same. With a leap-frog motion he through himself over La'Min catching the blades squarely.

An explosion of searing light washed over them in a blinding display as the Ratfolk caught the massive 17ft blades with his bare-hands and was driven back as the devil crashed forward, staggering in wide-eyed surprise. The small furred creature held firmly and with little strain as both Alastor and himself passed the fleeing Pathfinders. His feet bit into the stone and tore massive gashes two feet deep into the stone as if he were some immovable tower the devil had struck. With sudden and explosive force, he threw his arms aside ripping the swords from the devil's hands and hurling them to either side far far into High-Castle and out of sight. The light crashed out from his eyes, burning through his skin and coating him a golden hue. He clenched a fist, waves of pulsing energy imploded into his hand bending the very light of the sun til the sky was dim and afternoon waned to evening. With a mighty leap, he flew forward, reeling back his sigil-branded hand and delivered an heavenward hook with all his strength to the devil's face as he rose.


***

There was no sound. As suddenly as it had come - it had stolen all else. The raging explosion of luminescence unleashed a wave of sound - distant at first. Which grew into cacophony so immense, it howled out into space. The silent stop-motion shadow play of dancing silhouettes, against the back-drop of the pillar of light which divided the heavens above ripped the very buildings surrounding Therin from the ground. Their stone foundations were catapulted in pieces out from Golarion to drift amid the void far above. The great tower of light dimmed. Narrowed. Flickered. Then waned like the setting sun. Streams of misty dancing enthralling lumens spiraled out into the world - the dim veil was lifted, and the sun returned. The devil was gone. A voice echoed within his mind as he felt his golden skin crack, peel, then explode as if it were shards of glass to float away and disintegrate in the soft breeze. A fourth of the sigil's upon his hand dimmed and faded away, leaving scars of their likeness where they had been.


"...It is not over."





Neth the 3rd, Oathday - 4:38 PM / AR 4732
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
District: High-Castle; - Outside Vornheim


http://i.imgur.com/ZQImo71.jpg


[The Deadeye Gunman: Sredexon]


http://i44.photobucket.com/albums/f7/DreadfulMorning/Apotheosis%20of%20the%20Sleepless/Maps/Haraday%20Theater/Capture%20encounter_zpsiyiwin8h.png

Shortly after the shot fired from The Sparrow above and Edge's regeneration, Xiao and Mason broke off into a dead sprint passing the Black Skull. The gunman above cursed under his breath and swung down, vanishing into a small guard-tower high above. Sredexon, taking up the initiative which the fleeing sharpshooter had taken leveled his weapon and fired a thermite grenade with a dull thud. The explosive crashed into the back of the running man's head, burying itself within his skull before violently detonating in a flaming spray of gore. The man's head was little more then grey cranial-paste coating the ground, his chest cavity blown as his divided shoulders hung loosely to either side like a scarecrow which had been pulled apart. The body did not fall, but rather, stood silently - slowly lurching around to 'face' the gunman. A putrid black goo poured out from the devastating wounds. It congealed and hardened in some frightful freakish manner, before peeling away to reveal the unpainted and widely grinning face of the Black Skull, who eyed Dexon with a tilted head, unblinking and he crept forward. The rest of his body did not move, but his hand reached down to pull a heavy looking metal skull shaped mask from his belt. Quite possibly one of his only three visible possessions - counting his pants and the massive stone blade he'd been dragging about - which he immediately dropped with a crashing thud, splitting the cobblestone under its weight. He raised up his hands, pointedly to the heavens, and lifting his gaze skyward while screaming out "AT LAST, FATHER! ONE BLESSED HAS DELIVERED HIMSELF UNTO ME! ....But." He grabbed the mask, sliding it to the side to reveal half his twisted face, branded in gleeful grimace. "...We must see if he is worthy. A true Chosen of The Father." He bellowed out to the gunman. "NOW WE SHALL SEE, IF THE FATHER HAS CHOSEN YOU AS WELL! LIVE, AND BE RECOGNIZED!"

He opened his mouth, howling in the air. His cry became a hiss, then that became a violent gargling as his skin begun to dissolve. Bloody pits split and leaked out from his throat. His cheeks begun to split, soften then ooze off of his skeletal lower jaw as frothing black liquid ran down from his fleshless jaw and burned the skin from his chest, landing to sizzle upon the ground. With a sudden jerking motion, the man's body twitched, as if it had become slightly larger. The cracking and snap of bone was audiable from under his skin as his ribs sharply bloated outward to make room for something... With an unexpected motion, Edge reeled forward unleashing a massive hydraulic 10ft wide stream of blackened gore. Though, unable to prepare for the sudden assault, Dexon was not caught unaware. He attempted to dive out of the path of the stream of acidic sludge.



(Breath Weapon) Black Stream
DC26 Reflex Save for Half Damage
[roll0] Points of Acid Damage
Plus an Additional 2d6 of Acid Damage for 6 Rounds if effected


Round 2 Begins


Initiative Order:
1. Dexon (Thermite Grenade)
2. Edge (Move/Black Stream)

http://i44.photobucket.com/albums/f7/DreadfulMorning/Beneath%20The%20Aphotic%20Veil/Maps/Dex%20Vs%20Edge%201/2_zpsenmjq2k4.jpg



BATTLE MAP

Map Key:
- Sredexon
- Edge

(Enemy Status Tags)
- No-Enter/Cross: Mythic Creature -
- Evil Skull: Difficulty (Extreme+) -
- Vigorous: Strong/Empowered (Iconic Hero) -
- Tower: Quest Point/Objective -

http://i44.photobucket.com/albums/f7/DreadfulMorning/Beneath%20The%20Aphotic%20Veil/Maps/Dex%20Vs%20Edge%201/1_zpseoaddz9s.jpg








(STARTED)Side Quest: Run Like Hell (Mythic)
Difficulty: (5) Extreme | Reward: (5) Unique | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
Freddrick Nagye has sought you out and is desperately pleading for you to take his employment to transport a small metal box of unknown origins. It is marked with The Black Brand, a seal only recognized by the criminal society, and inspires fear and dread in even the most hardened of crooks. Caring a Black Brand is as good as death to any man. No one knows what happens to those which have carried a Branded item, but they are never seen again. Be it standing on a stage, within a crowded room, or within a sealed vault. Something comes, and something spirits away the victims for eternity while reclaiming the marked object. It's only a short travel to Inner Vornheim, and the pay is good - but looking down at the box... You have a very bad feeling about this job.

Neth the 3rd, Oathday - 4:40 PM / AR 4732
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
District: High-Castle; - Outside Vornheim


http://i.imgur.com/ZQImo71.jpg


[The Heros From Afar: Mac Lir / Kourin Alekk Mak Esh / La'Min / Therin / Xiaomiao / Mason]



Run Like Hell: Chase Scene 5 - A Storm Raging Through

(Far Away)

It was freezing cold, and silent. The vacuum was less then pleasant, it was painful - but it did not hurt anywhere near as much as his pride. The devil floated within the darkness of the macrocosm. The thoughts remained - how had the rat so soundly defeated him? They were clearly much more then he had thought. Something more powerful then he had known, but his pride would not allow him to relent. The geass compelled him to return to his master - but his boiling rage came to override the binding magic. They had to die. He didn't care how. He lifted his great clawed hands summoning a haze of umbral mist, profane and dark magics he had not employed since his binding. The fools clearly did not understand the foe which they faced. He'd remind them - remind all of them of the fear that should shake them to the bone. The terror of The Executioner of Hell. With one hand, he pierced the depths of space, ripping forth a massive weapon. A double headed axe of such great size and volume, it was as massive as he, looming nearly 30ft from its shaft to cutting edge. With his other hand, he waved his clawed hand before the world below. The grey of colliding storms twisted and blackened the skies above Varisia. This was his final chance, the last he could resist the curse. He would destroy them all before his will finally crumbled.


***

(The Home Stretch)

The reunited Pathfinders, finally with room to breath ran on to cover the last great stretch which separated them from the great gate - finally they came into view of the Outer-Vornheim gate. The fanciful and lavish interwoven tree's which reached high up into the sky warded a large circular dais which carried its occupants far below into the center of the city with magics still misunderstood.

Suddenly the sky darkened once more. The cry of crackling lightning and thunder boomed overhead. The sun was veiled from the sky drowning everything within a pseudo-night. The ground began to violently quake. Sharp and unexpected roils of jarring movement nearly sent them toppling to the ground. The dark seemed to only deepen until it became tainted with such a pitch - there was no question as to what had brought the supernatural dark. They ran. Hard.

Lights from above twinkled and shimmered with familiar and frightening violet flame. Great burning meteors of molten metal converging upon them from the sky above, as if the world itself sudden stood to accost them. Black bolts of lightning ripped down with unnatural and guided movements to obliterate the cobbled streets, and threatening to strike them dead. Behind them, a rapid hammer of exploding meteors crashed into the ground in fiery blasts - from the flames strange shadowy beasts lashed out with wickedly sharp claws. The ground shook even more violently as the hail of flaming metal chased them down the road. Buildings were swept away in the massive brightly colored flaming bursts of death. The shadowy devils roared howled and barked in malicious anticipation as they ran amid the crackling bolts of black lightning and deafening thunder.

Then finally, he showed himself once again. The great devil came crashing down from the heavens wielding his mighty axe mowing down the large stone trading towers which stood between him and his pray - leveling the buildings with a swing of his weapon. "Now you will suffer.... NOW YOU WILL DIE!" His cry bellowed out behind them as Alastor roared out to the sky. His weapon suddenly exploded into sapphire flame as he took off in flight after them. Pointing his weapon at the fleeing group of heros he screamed out with magically amplified volume. "BE STILL!" The magic from the word of power washed over them. The soldier's in the distance who guarded the gate's entrance, in wide eyed horror at the surge of fire, lightning and shadow beasts suddenly fell to the ground as the explosive wave of magic struck them. Five men thrashed upon the ground foaming at the mouth as they violently and grotesquely twisted in macabre displays snapping their own necks.


...The gate was so close. Yet so far.

(Word of Power)
With a mighty roar, the great devil flies after the Pathfinders with murder in his eyes. Unleashing a wave of explosive magic, the heros are nearly overcome by the crushing magic. All heros must succeed a DC [roll1] Will Save or fall to the ground paralyzed and in seizure. Effected creatures must succeed a DC [roll2] Fortitude Save or be reduced to -1 Hit Points. A creature who fails their Fortitude Save must succeed a second DC [roll3] Fortitude Save or be slain instantly.

(The Horde)
A mighty band of lesser devils has been summoned in a hail of flaming blasts. The shadowy beasts now charge forth through the surge of destruction determined to maim, maul and slay the enemies of their master. The dark creatures surge along the ground and building's walls like shadows lashing out with cruel claws. Hero's must succeed [roll4] Perception Checks against the oncoming creature's attacks or risk suffering terrible wounds. These blows resolve against AC as normal.

1.) Perception: [roll5] | Attack: [roll6] | Damage: [roll7] Points of Strength Damage (Lethal)
2.) Perception: [roll8] | Attack: [roll9] | Damage: [roll10] Points of Strength Damage (Lethal)
3.) Perception: [roll11] | Attack: [roll12] | Damage: [roll13] Points of Strength Damage (Lethal)
4.) Perception: [roll14] | Attack: [roll15] | Damage: [roll16] Points of Strength Damage (Lethal)
5.) Perception: [roll17] | Attack: [roll18] | Damage: [roll19] Points of Strength Damage (Lethal)
6.) Perception: [roll20] | Attack: [roll21] | Damage: [roll22] Points of Strength Damage (Lethal)
7.) Perception: [roll23] | Attack: [roll24] | Damage: [roll25] Points of Strength Damage (Lethal)
8.) Perception: [roll26] | Attack: [roll27] | Damage: [roll28] Points of Strength Damage (Lethal)

(Through Lighting & Flame: Meteors)
Meteors rain down in explosive blasts of burning bituminous blasts of molten slag, while bolts of blackened lightning dive down from the sky like spears of energy, threatening all who are unfortunate enough to linger in their way. All Heros must succeed (4) Acrobatics Checks or be struck by a falling bit of the flaming rocks. Creatures struck suffer a -4 Penalty to their Reflex Saves against any meteor effect, This penalty stacks with itself:

1.) DC [roll29] Acrobatics | Damage: [roll30] Points of Bludgeoning Damage
2.) DC [roll31] Acrobatics | Damage: [roll32] Points of Bludgeoning Damage
3.) DC [roll33] Acrobatics | Damage: [roll34] Points of Bludgeoning Damage
4.) DC [roll35] Acrobatics | Damage: [roll36] Points of Bludgeoning Damage

Creature's struck by a meteor-piece are far too close to the original source of the fragment and are caught in the subsequent explosion. Creatures caught in the explosion must attempt a Reflex Save for each time they have been struck.

1.) DC [roll37] Reflex | Damage: [roll38] Points of Fire Damage
2.) DC [roll39] Reflex | Damage: [roll40] Points of Fire Damage
3.) DC [roll41] Reflex | Damage: [roll42] Points of Fire Damage
4.) DC [roll43] Reflex | Damage: [roll44] Points of Fire Damage


(Through Lighting & Flame: Lightning)
The black lightning which thunders down from above, is seemingly guided by some strange arcane influence. Each bolt which pierces down strikes with terrible force, splitting the ground underfoot. Aimed with pinpoint accuracy, the only method to seemingly dodge the churning cloud's bolts is to predict where they will land as they are cast down. Heros must succeed [roll45] Sense Motive Checks to avoid the cascade of electric blasts. (Vile Damage: Cannot be healed by mundane or magical means, except within an area effected by a Consecrate Spell)

1.) DC [roll46] Sense Motive| Damage: [roll47] Points of Electric Damage
2.) DC [roll48] Sense Motive| Damage: [roll49] Points of Vile Damage
3.) DC [roll50] Sense Motive| Damage: [roll51] Points of Electric Damage
4.) DC [roll52] Sense Motive| Damage: [roll53] Points of Electric Damage
4+.) DC [roll54] Sense Motive| Damage: [roll55] Points of Vile Damage





ASCENSION

Advancement: First Side Quest Started (Xiaomiao & Mason)


Ascension Surge:You have unlocked a small measure of your divine power. This new fraction of divinity has graced you with a new awareness. The perception of Causality and Time. You have learned to tap into it, bend it and even re-write it. Changing events which may have occurred at your very whim. However this power is extremely limited and consumes a large portion of your achieved divinity with each use.

Performing an Ascension Surge consumed one point of Ascension. Unlike Mythic Power used to perform a Mythic Surge, these points will never be restored. More points can be gained by completing challenging events and Side Quests, but otherwise provide an extremely limited pool. Ascension Points can provided numerous static benefits for having them - however these abilities are unlocked with future Ascension Advancements and are unavailable while starting. Choosing when to expend Ascension Points should be considered very carefully as you will not be getting them back, and it will decrease the effectiveness of numerous future Ascension Abilities gained in the future.

Use: You may expend 1 Point of Ascension as an Immediate Action at any point you desire. This Immediate Action does not count against your actions during your following round as would a traditional Immediate Action. Furthermore, a conventional Immediate Action may be taken with, during, or in conjunction with an Ascension Surge.

After making any single roll, you may roll again (This need not be on a d20). Take the higher of the two results. If the new result would still fail, then take the higher of the two results - This result receives a +20 Untyped Bonus to the attempt. If the result would succeed - It succeeds as if you have made a Critical Success (Nat 20). Attacks confirmed in this manner do not need to confirm Critical Threat and pass automatically. If the result does not pass even with the applied Untyped Bonus, the result fails as normal and the Ascension Surge is wasted. Use of Ascension Surge to accomplish a task does so with extreme and often impossible results and should be used only while in the greatest need.


ASCENSION POINTS GAINED: 4
(+1) Extreme Difficulty | (+1) LoFP: Challenging | (+1) Mythic | (1 Points) Default

[BizzaroStormy]

Stredexon growls and groans as the acid splashes over his body, is divine heritage being the only thing between him and becoming a molten smudge on the cobblestone walkway. Considering the dire situation, he disregards the Sparrow's warning about flight and once again unfurls his massive wings, however this time there is a bit more. A golden light shines from the acidic mist surrounding him and it only takes a couple flaps of his wings to catapult him into the air where the source of the glow can finally be seen. A bright halo has manifested itself around his head his eyes and body shining with a similar holy glow. He quickly switches his weapons again and hefts his rifle in mid-flight. The faint click of the safety is followed by the unsatisfying pop of a misfire, the round going VERY wide and the shell casing sticking itself backwards, jamming the rifles bolt. Dexon lets out a strangely angelic curse regarding his weapon's inopportune failure.


Free Action: Activate Halo racial ability (mostly for show but who knows, he may have some mind-affecting BS)
Swift Action: Activate Smite Evil, Targeting Edge
Move Action: Ascend to an altitude of 55 feet, making a burst fire attack at 25'
Standard Action: Burst Fire attack( for every 5 over AC, i get another hit. Let me know if you want those rolled separately via OOC and i'll do it there.
[roll0]
[roll1]

[Felyndiira]

"It seems that we caught up to the others, yes?" As the other Pathfinders finally came within her view, the girl breathed a sigh of relief. she wasn't sure what they were running from, or why they decided to pursue this maelstrom instead of just waiting for it to pass, but she was at least glad to see them here - safe, save for a few easily fixed wounds.

Xiaomiao wasn't a frequent acquaintance of La'Min and Therin; she tended to work alone as a Pathfinder, seeking out missions that would allow her to demonstrate her skills and spread her father's style rather than under the shadow of other compatriots. Nevertheless, she felt a bit of camaraderie with them through their shared sifu, Raph'el; she would browse through their chronicles in the archives with some regularly, amusing herself at their antics and being awed by their successes, and would on occasion attempt to meet with them - in person - over a glass of sorghum wine and roasted beef. It was an unexplained natural bond born more out of duty than friendship, but to a girl who had lost her entire world just a few years ago, that was enough to be like a cherished treasure.

"La'Min! Therin! We've finally managed to catch up! What is going on up here?" The girl shouted, finally gasping for breath while she waved to the others with a smile. In addition to the bunny-girl and the rat-boy, there were also two others - one, she recognized as the legendary captain Mac Lir that she had fantasized about when she entered Seven Arrows, though a bit less dashing now than she had remembered from the chronicles. The other...Alekk? Kourin? Mak? She recognized the other man, too, as an understudy of her second sifu, but his system of titles and names was always confusing to her. Regardless, all of them look a bit worse for the wear; many of them seem a bit exhausted for just being under a normal maelstorm, with wounds and scars indicative of some sort of full-scale assault. Xiaomiao was just about to open her mouth again, when the answer to her question suddenly appeared before her, in the appearance of an unnatural creature - even more so than the clown-faced madman - clearly poised to strike at the group.

"What is-" She barely had the time to utter those words, when a sharp voice rang through her head. Around her, the world seemed to shift into nigh-unrecognizable patterns as if distorted by a divine power; rising - and walking - felt like hours of suffering in that one brief moment, threatening to crush her spirit and render her body as a wilted leaf in the streets. Whatever that feeling had been, the oppressive aura lasted for only a moment, and as the girl braced herself and readied her body and mind against another such assault, it did not came. Instead, she opened her eyes, looked about her, and saw the visage of hell.

She looked at the others in shock, trying to divine whatever answers she could from the other Pathfinders. She barely opened her mouth to ask a question when it came to her - the expressions on some of their faces told the whole story, that they had grown accustomed to seeing this sight over the few short minutes since the inquisitor incident. "You've been fighting this thing? Until now? 真的吗?" she muttered - mostly to herself, and not even realizing that she had lapsed into her native tongue. She stared at her companions one more time, her wide-open eyes passing through each one and taking note of their countenance and their wounds, before turning her attention back to the great devil hovering before her.

She had no time to do anything else as the demons descended, except to run with the others...and to protect them.

Xiaomiao does refresh Vigor for 5pp before all this happens.

I'll leave some room for a second post, so that Xiaomiao doesn't end up saying too much before someone gets a chance to interject. She will, however, attempt to aid others to the best of her abilities, and try to maintain 10' range to as many party members as possible to protect them with her aegis bonuses. She should have passed everything (unless if we need to roll all 5 lightning strikes for the last one, instead of just 3). She takes no damage from this scene.

EDIT: The random bit of Chinese there represents Tian.

[Tacitus]

For a moment an echo of sensation passes through the Collective, a phantom pain and a touch of static from events erased by Therin's sacrifice. Alekk is stunned at the sight of the ratfolk catching the massive blades and tossing them away and is staggered by the righteous uppercut delivered with truly godly force. When they took off running again he focused his mind to flood the Collective with additional repairs, focusing what would rejuvenate his body to Mac which the man could then redirect to the others, assuming they had accepted the connection.

32/47 starting PP

Rolls for reactions rolled in OOC. Taking 17 Electrical, updated HP indicated below.

I'm not sure if another Aid Another is needed for anybody, but rolling it for shiggles [roll0] (Mac might need another Aid Another for Sense Motive? If so, can't fail a DC 10 with a +9)

Akashic Augmentation back to Natural Healing, no Overchannel, 4pp total for 12 Healing to Alekk and Mac Lir, which Alekk shunts it all back to Mac, so 24 healing to him.

End PP 28/47pp

HP: 31/61+1 Temp HP
AC: 28/16/23
20% Miss Chance vs Melee and Ranged (DC 19 Disbelief)
Saves 10/9/16
Land Speed 40ft

Essence: Capacity 2 [+1 for one] DCs 11+E+Int. 11 Essence Total.
Veils:
[0] Riven Darts: X darts that deal 1d4+Xd4, no more than 2 darts per target. 20ft Ranged Touch as Standard
[3] Pestilence Cloak: 20% Miss Chance vs Range and Melee, Will Disbelief DC [16+X], Fly Clumsy 5+5Xft
[0] Ditchdigger Armlets: Full Round Act to create 10x10 difficult terrain, deals 1d6+Xd6 damage. 1d4 round cooldown
[2] Stalker's Tabi: +2+2X Acrobatics&Stealth

Feats:
[1] Akashic Augmentation: Chose a power. Cost is -X, only applies to Augments, can't reduce extra cost below 1. Can't invest more than power level
-Power Selected: Natural Healing

Racial:
[2] Speed: +10ft*X land speed.
[2] Natural Armor: +X Natural Armor
[1] Spines: Two 1d4 Spine attacks as primary natural weapons. Every odd after 1 adds +1 Enhancement

Charged Items:
[0] Wand of Lesser Restoration
[0] Wand of Cure Light Wounds
[0] Wand of Invisibility

[forg99rules]

Mac was stunned when he saw golden light coming off of the Ratfolk, He was even more stunned as he watched the Ratfolk catch the blades and toss them aside and then Punch the Demon in the face.

Hearing the devil call out that it was not over he knew that they would have even more trouble if he returned.

As they ran Mac could feel his regeneration kicking in and healing what wounds were left, As the sky started to twinkle and shimmer with the violet flames that could only come from a demon Mac felt a certain dread inside him as he thought that the demon would bring it all against them this time.

As feared when the Demon finally appeared Mac heard a mighty roar eminate from the demon and he flew towards the pathfinders unleashing magic in his wake.

Watching the flames Mac easily spotted the lesser devils springing forth from them to attack him and his fellow pathfinders. Mac weaved and dodged through the horde of devils, This caused Mac to not dodge the Meteors that were falling from the sky. After getting hit by one and the ensueing exposion from it Mac managed to dodge the remaining few only getting slightly clipped by another meteor. Mac was keeping his eye on the sky trying to avoid everything the Demon was throwing his way seeing the lightning roiling above mac attempted to surmise where the Lightning was going to strike and where would be best to dodge. Making it through the Meteors and Lightning Mac was feeling tired and worn out. Praying that this Hell on earth would get over with.

[Triskavanski]

"What in bloody blue blazes did I just do! The little ratfolk cried out, as he hurried along working to keep up with the others. He thought he was dead, he felt he was dead, he should have been dead. But alas, here he was, still alive! And for a moment there he could have sworn he just caught that giant sword barehanded and blew up the demon.

But the demon was there again, shadows were popping out of the floors and walls stabbing at him, sapping his strength as rocks and bolts of lighting come crashing down from the sky. He felt something wash overhim, being part of some sort of collection of minds, holding back something terrible and dark as bits of rock pummel his hide.. "Look out!" he cried, as a bolt of lighting comes down, giving the others just enough warning to avoid it.

[Mornings]

Neth the 3rd, Oathday - 4:38 PM / AR 4732
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
District: High-Castle; - Outside Vornheim


http://i.imgur.com/ZQImo71.jpg


[The Deadeye Gunman: Sredexon]



http://i44.photobucket.com/albums/f7/DreadfulMorning/Apotheosis%20of%20the%20Sleepless/Maps/Haraday%20Theater/Capture%20encounter_zpsiyiwin8h.png

Round 2 Begins

The flood of black burning acid struck Sredexon squarely, sending him reeling back as the violent burning stream washed over him. The hissing sludge-like goo boiled, bubbled and melted away flesh in dripping bloody puddles - as if his skin were made of wax. The Black Skull's head hung down, as the melted muscle and skin from his skeletal face dripped from his bones. The tendons finally burned away as the lower half of his jaw fell clattering upon the ground. As if not expecting anything to be left of him, he looked up in surprise when the gunman took to the air upon his wings - his face quickly reforming. CLANK - the marksmen's weapon misfired with a dull thud. Edge through back his head and begun laughing hysterically. "YES! WONDERFUL! So The Father has chosen you as well.... Very well. Then heed my words Chosen One! The Father's greatest warriors gather within His Hands! Gathering to face The Whispering Ones of Gallowspire's master! The Azlanti left something to him, The Defender. The Betrayer. Oh, Great Deceiver. Now It will be ours to claim! The mightiest shall emerge as gods! Come, brother! Gather your mightiest allies and most profane arms! We shall die, together! HAHAHA!"

The shoulder blades in the man's bare back cracked, twisted and split the skin. Crooked bones dripping with black ooze swiftly solidified into a pair of massive black leathery wings. With a great explosion of air, the grotesque and misformed wings catapulted him far into the air at an angle - as if fired from a trebuchet. Hurtling through the air he quickly became a small object in the distance, far faster then any beast. The question remained: What had that man become?






(DISCOVERED) Side Quest: The God That Crawls (Mythic Trial)
Difficulty: (6) Abyssal | Reward: (5) Unique | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (2) Unusual Challenge
Edge, also known as Edward Prospero has revealed a secret agenda to Sredexon after a short bout of combat. Though his words were ambiguous it could only point towards one thing. The Black Skulls loyal to Edge had uncovered a movement by The Whispering Way to recover a hidden artifact once possessed by Aroden, The Last Azlanti. Designed to be wielded against The Whispering Tyrant should he rise again, it was now at risk of falling into the wrong hands. Edge is convinced possessing this item will propel him to godhood. The Whispering Way believes it will free their imprisoned master, Tar Baphon. Both parties now make for The Skyward Hands of Inner Vornheim, and this time Raph'æl wasn't here to eliminate the threat. The Hands were a strange and ancient artifact of unknown but terrific power, said to be adjoined to many realms and times - an unearthed weapon the size of a city. The Delvers work tirelessly each day attempting to map the interior, but its vastness was beyond the comprehension of those who have not braved its depths... Even still. Prospero and the cultists had to be stopped.



Mythic Trails are quests or adventures which, upon completing, grant a Mythic Tier. They are some of the most challenging and dangerous quests that can be taken - however, they may be skipped. There are many Mythic Trails which may be discovered. Determining which will get you killed, or expend your resources, and which are more favorable to the party's conditions are an important part of completing Mythic Trails. Trails should not be attempted while at anything less then full strength. Gathering information is a crucial strategic element of quests, but is capitalized during Trials. Ensuring you've brought the right tool, the right items and the right information can make critical differences when attempting these 'raid-quality', styled adventures. The party should not attempt to complete a Trail alone. Recruit allies. You'll need the help.

Advisories will be displayed at certain points during the quest if you are about to cross a Point of No Return, or similar dramatic event.




http://i44.photobucket.com/albums/f7/DreadfulMorning/dfas1%20-%20Copy%20-%20Copy_zps2ljrxpym.jpg







(STARTED)Side Quest: Run Like Hell (Mythic)
Difficulty: (5) Extreme | Reward: (5) Unique | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
Freddrick Nagye has sought you out and is desperately pleading for you to take his employment to transport a small metal box of unknown origins. It is marked with The Black Brand, a seal only recognized by the criminal society, and inspires fear and dread in even the most hardened of crooks. Caring a Black Brand is as good as death to any man. No one knows what happens to those which have carried a Branded item, but they are never seen again. Be it standing on a stage, within a crowded room, or within a sealed vault. Something comes, and something spirits away the victims for eternity while reclaiming the marked object. It's only a short travel to Inner Vornheim, and the pay is good - but looking down at the box... You have a very bad feeling about this job.

Neth the 3rd, Oathday - 4:40 PM / AR 4732
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
District: High-Castle; - Outside Vornheim


http://i.imgur.com/ZQImo71.jpg


[The Heros From Afar: Mac Lir / Kourin Alekk Mak Esh / La'Min / Therin / Xiaomiao / Mason]

Run Like Hell: Chase Scene 5 - A Storm Raging Through

The dark claws of the shadowy beasts lashed out with vicious blows. The incorporeal hands slashed through flesh and bone with traceless passing. Small bursts of misty soulstuff flared out and vanished with painful burning sensations. The heavy meteor fragments crashed down upon them, catching a number of them. Yet with deft movements they dived out from the subsequent explosions. Crying out to one another over the peels of thunder and roiling lightning, agile dashes and tumbling rolls carried them through the grim storm.


They reached the gate

The massive woven trees seemed to shed a distant yet pleasant blue light. The bodies of the guards still tossed about as tendons pulled and muscles spasmed in their death throes. Mason crashed through the gateway, torn and smoking with embers still burning upon his back where he'd be struck. Xiaomiao closely behind him, completely unscathed. Alekk crashed through, as misting from the electrical discharge of the bolt which struck him. As they each entered they vanished in an instant. Mac Lir, raced forward, passing La'Min, who cried out as a stray bolt caught her, and the hand of a beast landed a viciously aimed thrust in her side. He looked back just as he crossed the entrance, watching in stunned silence as she vanished in a radiant burst of golden light...



Run Like Hell (Part 2): - Live Through

They crashed down hard upon the sleek marble tiles of the ground, the resounding explosion far far above in the distance where they sky was darkened illuminated the sky. They could all feel it - something removed from them. The sigil upon their hand slightly shifted its glow, one of the lines loosing its light as the golden burst banished the clouds and fear of the storm which could be seen many miles away in High-Castle. He'd been the last one, he knew La'Min was gone - but he didn't know why... or what had happened. She just was.

The sky cleared above, the black clouds vanished and passed leaving no trace they had even come. They each felt something within themselves. A faint spark of light flickered out from each of their hands. From above golden lights danced and drifted downward from the sky, as if it were a snow of light which was snuffed out as it touched anything solid. A familiar surge of energy raced through them. The runes upon the marking shifted ever so slightly, a single one of the markings shifting to a red-hue, while Therin's missing runes where recovered.



ASCENSION

Advancement: (Completed) A Storm Raging Through


Ascendant Advancement:You have unlocked a greater measure of power from your valorous achievement and sacrifice. The energy which fills you terrific new power. The strength of your Ascension greatly influences the abilities you may access, and the strengths you may learn. (Select A New Power From Your Ascension Table)

(ASCENSION: 4 Points or Greater) - Select 1 Option
- Gain 1 Point of Ascension

(The Following Abilities Remain Usable While The User Possesses: 1 Point(s) of Ascension)
- Gain a new Feat (Must Meet Prerequisites)
- Gain DR1/- (Stacks with all sources)
- Fast Healing 1 (Stacks with all sources)
- Increase Base Movement Speed by 10
- Select a Level 1 Spell From Any Class. You may cast it 1/Day

(The Following Abilities Remain Usable While The User Possesses: 2 Point(s) of Ascension)
- Gain a new Feat (Must Meet Prerequisites)
- Gain DR2/- (Stacks with all sources)
- Fast Healing 2 (Stacks with all sources)
- Increase Base Movement Speed by 20
- Select a Level 2 Spell From Any Class. You may cast it 1/Day

(The Following Abilities Remain Usable While The User Possesses: 3 Point(s) of Ascension)
- Gain a new Feat (Need Not Meet Prerequisites)
- Gain DR3/- (Stacks with all sources)
- Fast Healing 3 (Stacks with all sources)
- Increase Base Movement Speed by 30
- Select a Level 3 Spell From Any Class. You may cast it 1/Day


***
(The Following Abilities Remain Usable While The User Possesses: 4 Point(s) of Ascension)
- (Unique) A Storm Raging Through (Ex): Once every 1d6-1 Rounds, you may make an additional Move Action as an Immediate Action. This Immediate Action does not consume your Swift Action during the following round and may be used in conjunction with another Immediate Action. If this Move Action is used for the purpose of movement, you instead teleport to the desired location in a bolt of blackened lightning. This movement does not provoke attack. Creatures adjacent to the location which you have moved from suffer 1d4 Points of Vile Damage and must make a DC 15+HD Reflex Save or be pushed back 5ft away from your previous location. Melee attacks made during this movement are wasted if they are no longer in range. Ranged attacks are negated if the target is no longer within line of sight.

- (Unique) Black Lightning, Minor (Su): The power to rend souls, and split the very heavens with untold might. There are no spellcasters which may teach this. Only the most profane and vile of demons dare call forth the roiling terror of Drathir Elgg's blackened lightning. Simply thinking the words of the ritual is an evil act which befouls the spirit. Those who risk their very souls and freedom to wield such power become legends of frightful terror in any realm which they dwell.

Once every 1d12 Hours, the user may attempt a DC 10+5d4 Will Save as a Full Round Action. Upon failing this save, a pulse of crackling black energy blasts outward from the caster's location in a 20ft radius burst. All creatures suffer 3d6 Points of Force Damage 3d6 Points of Electric Damage and 3d6 Points of Vile Damage, this damage bypasses all resistances. Additionally, the caster suffers half the damage the failed spell inflicts upon each effected creature in conjunction to the initial burst - if the user is reduced below his Constitution Modifier, rather then being slain, his soul is bound to the mysterious demon Drathir Elgg, additionally the caster is reduced to the evil equivalent of their current alignment. Upon success the caster generates 1d4/level of bolts from the sky. Each bolt deals 5d6 Points of Force Damage and 1d6 Points of Vile Damage. This damage bypasses any resistances, DR, or SR. Bolts may be directed at any targets which the user can see. Targeted creature's must succeed a Sense Motive Check equal to the DC of the user's rolled Will Save, upon success, the targets suffer half damage. Creature's reduced to 0 Hit Points are instantly slain and cannot be restored except by means of a Wish or True Resurrection Spell cast within an area effected by a Consecrate Spell. (Casting Black Lightning is an Evil Act - Reduce your alignment by one step upon learning this ability)

- (Unique) Immortal Hour (Ex): Some have learned to wield great power. Some have learned great wisdom. You've learned to outlast them. Within the every spanning hands of time, individual achievements meant nothing, if you were no longer living to see the ages which would come.

Once every 1d12 Hours, as an Immediate Action, the user may roll his HD. The result, divided by half (minimum 1), grants him Regeneration X/Magic for 1d4 minutes. After using this ability, the caster ceases to age via mundane or magical means for 1 hour. If the caster would be killed during this hour, he may instead opt to activate a Deathless Minute. While under the effect of Deathless Minute, he may choose to delay his death for 1d6 Rounds. If the remaining damage after the Deathless Minute expires would kill him, the user dies as normal - If the subsequent damage is no longer lethal, the caster continues to live. This ability may only be used once per Immortal Hour. He need not be conscious when making the decision to activate this ability. Abilities which would slay him outright (Such as death-effects) are delayed, but not negated - Upon the effect's end, the caster would be slain. (Healing while under the effect of Immortal Hour is not subject to this game's healing houserule, and must be done normally)

(ASCENSION: Below 4 Points) - Select 1 Option
- Gain 1 Point of Ascension

(The Following Abilities Remain Usable While The User Possesses: 1 Point(s) of Ascension)
- Gain a new Feat (Must Meet Prerequisites)
- Gain DR1/- (Stacks with all sources)
- Fast Healing 1 (Stacks with all sources)
- Increase Base Movement Speed by 10
- Select a Level 1 Spell From Any Class. You may cast it 1/Day

(The Following Abilities Remain Usable While The User Possesses: 2 Point(s) of Ascension)
- Gain a new Feat (Must Meet Prerequisites)
- Gain DR2/- (Stacks with all sources)
- Fast Healing 2 (Stacks with all sources)
- Increase Base Movement Speed by 20
- Select a Level 2 Spell From Any Class. You may cast it 1/Day

(The Following Abilities Remain Usable While The User Possesses: 3 Point(s) of Ascension)
- Gain a new Feat (Need Not Meet Prerequisites)
- Gain DR3/- (Stacks with all sources)
- Fast Healing 3 (Stacks with all sources)
- Increase Base Movement Speed by 30
- Select a Level 3 Spell From Any Class. You may cast it 1/Day





Looking about themselves at the tall Tian buildings and looming lavish adornments of Outer Vornheim brought them back to reality. The circular dias of marble which they sat, and laid upon served as one of the many gateways out of the city, which rested far below High-Castle, as if resting within the interior of some form of man-made volcano of metal and stone. Skittering steps from the side stole their attention. The young lad, a Tian boy looked on at the smoldering group with confusion. He glanced at Xiaomiao with a sheepish smile, before his attention was drawn to Mac Lir. His tattered cloths, were of distinct Seven-Arrows fashion - a mix of Varisian and Tian cultures. He ran over to the captain shaking him with one hand. "Mac, Mac! Oh, man... You've done it, again! I heard you took the box from Fred, and demolished half of High-Castle on your way down! Not just me, everyone heard it! The Free Hand's sent The Roses after you... and, well. You know the deal, Warren sent me... I can't believe you took the damn music box. You're more crazy then people say. We need to get off the streets - now. I've only managed to stay a minute or so ahead of The Girls. They're real feisty this time. I got a safe house ready. Get yourself together." The boy talked fast, often stumbling over his own words. Lu Lei Low was a famous courier for Warren Trading, almost a household name within Seven Arrows. He was a cousin to the mysterious Dr. Low who ran Caliphas's underground smuggling and trade, and thus had learned the in's and out's of the trade from a very young age. The young man was respected as one of the finest padfoots within The Inner Sea, and a brilliant escape artist. Very few knew the backstreets of Vornheim half as well as Lu Lei - That Warren had sent him was a testement to the seriousness of the job, and that they had not given up on the delivery yet... Though he begun to have an even worse feeling about the job. If to make matters rose, The Free had let loose their dogs. A brutal band of violent and sadistic enforces known as The Omniscient Rose. They were not a group anyone, even the Black Skulls wanted to cross paths with. The all female band, were talented criminals without morals, and with very unique skill sets. The thought still lingered, It couldn't be... A music box?


Lu Lei Low
http://i44.photobucket.com/albums/f7/DreadfulMorning/0b57bbe947141332fd78d5b9bd7a6eb5_zps3kn7egqs.jpg

[BizzaroStormy]

Strdexon hovers for a moment and unjams his rifle with a dumbfounded look on what was left of his face. No way...No way in hell am I that lucky. Maybe it was the fact that he was nuts? Thoughts of how and why continue to swirl around in his head as the halo around his head fades and he lands to quaff a potion from his bag. Wait now...who the hell is that father? What's "Azlanti"? Wh-- "Aw hell!" the angelic gunman exclaims as he drops the empty vial onto the street before catapulting himself into the air in the direction of Xiaomao and the others. "Please don't be dead, please don't be dead."

Drinking a potion of Cure Moderate Wounds.
[roll0]

And knowledge to see if the term "Azlanti" rings a bell.
[roll1]
[roll2]

[forg99rules]

Mac was saddened by what he saw, unsure if La'Min was actually dead or if like the ratfolk activated some power to save herself at the last minute.

Looking at his hand and noticing one of the lines from the Runes lose its light, he knew then that She was gone. Mac swore to himself that he would complete this delivery, That La'Min didn't die in vain. "You will be remembered my Friend", "Alright everyone rest for a second were not sure if the demon is gone for good this time". Mac pulls off a patch from his greatcoat and potion appears in his hand, He quickly downs this and passes the healing from it over to Alekk using the collective. "Thanks for the assists Alekk."

As Mac stood there staring across to the spot that La'Min had just been he noticed a faint spark fly from his hand and golden light dancing above them falling like snow. Feeling the surge go through him Mac had an odd feeling that this wasn't over.

Hearing Lu Lei Low call out to him Mac turned and was glad to see someone from the Warren Trading Co. Hearing that the Roses had been let lose Mac nearly shat himself, The Hands only sent them out when they wanted something done quick and brutal. "Alright all breaks over, Time to move Follow and stay close, Eyes and Ears open callout if you see anything".

"Lead the way Lu" As Mac started to follow Lu towards the safe house he couldn't get what Lu had said about the package being a music box out of his head. What the hell does this music box play that would Cause a Demon, The Hands and Warren to want it so bad. Pulling the box out from his coat to get another look at it Mac felt a certain dread knowing feeling that if the wrong hands got the Box life wouldn't be the same.

Removing a patch from the Greatcoat and drinking the potion it creates which is Cure Moderate Wounds, Heals for 11 rolled in OOC, Passing the heals over to Alekk



HP26 - (Gaining +5 from regen every 6 seconds, Will be passing it off to others and keeping myself from getting full HP till they are topped off.

No other changes to stats or gear besides the one patch removed.

[Triskavanski]

Wot in bloody bogs bacon biscuits is gahn on here! The simple ratfolk cried out, panting heavily, as he stood glancing around the area they were in. He was sure he died. He was positive he died, several times in a matter of seconds. And yet here he was. "I'm bloody well gonna ter be an ole man before I turn fifteen, that I'll be. 'Ave a look! I 'ave grey in me fur already! Didn't 'ave that earlier today. I need, I need ter sit dahn for a mument."

Panting still he slowly slumped to his feet, then knees, and finally fell over on his back, staring up to the sky. Should 'ave been a brewer. Muvver always wanted a brewer in the family. The bloomin' Family that drinks togeffer stays togeffer she always said. Eh up, wait any fairy spot that bunny lass I were wiv?

[Tacitus]

For the limited number in Alekk's Collective a low level background static enters their thoughts as Alekk lays flat on the ground for several long moments, not moving aside from wisps of steam still rising from his scales and the semi-corporeal swarm of insects crawling over his body. A shudder passes through his body and the insect swam vanishes along with the shadowy wisps around his feet. The spines on his arms and legs fold back against his skin and the scales on his body lose a portion of their sheen until he begins to groan, at which point the essence in his body floods back into his extremities and Veils. When he climbs back to his feet he casts a glance back to where they had come through... where most of them had come through. He focuses for a moment to try to see if he can find La'Min in his Collective, even a faint trace of her consciousness to hold, but with the chaos isn't even sure if she accepted the invitation to his network.

He lets out a long sigh, "Everyone should have a pressure on their temples. This is my Collective for those not in it already. Please accept and we can begin patching up our wounds more effectively. I'll pass along a more detailed thought package concerning the Collective via telepathy thereafter. Seems we're in for the long haul, and if I can help it, no one else dies. If anyone can make use of wands I've got healing and restoration, and also a potion or two of restoration if not." He rubs his hand with the rune, riding glove lost along the way on that hand but still present on the other. At this he blinks and looks down at his hands, "Dammit. I liked these gloves. This damn thing itch for anyone else? Feels like its trying to crawl off my damned skin."

28/47 starting PP

Still undecided on Ascension Power. How long do we have to finalize a decision on this?

HP below includes healing potion via patch of a greatcoat from Forg.

To PCs: Pinging all present for inclusion in Collective
Got 2 pots of lesser restoration, and a Wand of Lesser Restoration with 5 charges for any with Str damage. +1 CL near me.

HP: 42/61+1 Temp HP (6 minute total duration)
AC: 28/16/23
20% Miss Chance vs Melee and Ranged (DC 19 Disbelief)
Saves 10/9/16
Land Speed 40ft

Essence: Capacity 2 [+1 for one] DCs 11+E+Int. 11 Essence Total.
Veils:
[0] Riven Darts: X darts that deal 1d4+Xd4, no more than 2 darts per target. 20ft Ranged Touch as Standard
[3] Pestilence Cloak: 20% Miss Chance vs Range and Melee, Will Disbelief DC [16+X], Fly Clumsy 5+5Xft
[0] Ditchdigger Armlets: Full Round Act to create 10x10 difficult terrain, deals 1d6+Xd6 damage. 1d4 round cooldown
[2] Stalker's Tabi: +2+2X Acrobatics&Stealth

Feats:
[1] Akashic Augmentation: Chose a power. Cost is -X, only applies to Augments, can't reduce extra cost below 1. Can't invest more than power level
-Power Selected: Natural Healing

Racial:
[2] Speed: +10ft*X land speed.
[2] Natural Armor: +X Natural Armor
[1] Spines: Two 1d4 Spine attacks as primary natural weapons. Every odd after 1 adds +1 Enhancement

Charged Items:
[0] Wand of Lesser Restoration
[0] Wand of Cure Light Wounds
[0] Wand of Invisibility

[Felyndiira]

"不要!" Xiaomiao blurted - instinctively in her native language. She turned when she heard La'Min cry out in pain, and in front of her eyes, the woman that she was trying to meet faded away as a strange light began to surround her. The girl's face was a mix of horror and fear - perhaps the first time that the others have ever seen her wear such a countenance. Without a word, she darted past her fellow Pathfinders and dashed to where the bunny woman was - her steps ascending until her entire body shot forward in a streak of black lightning.

She wasn't supposed to know a technique like this.

She didn't care.

But, even with the strange lightning technique, she couldn't reach her comrade. "DAMMIT!" She screamed, loudly enough for everyone present to hear, as her hand phased through the fading image of the rabbit woman; she didn't really know La'Min personally, nor were they friends or anything close. However, for the first years since coming to the inner seas, the adventurers of her fellow comrades - the understudies of the same man who saved her twice, and to whom she owes her life twice over - were her only outlet of joy. She had read of their chronicles in the Pathfinder archives so many times that their adventures were almost like her own. The exploits of Captain Mac Lir; the fantastical experiments of Therin; the various amazing and superhuman things that Stredexon had accomplished; she would often imagine herself as a participant in these ventures, fighting alongside them in the most desperate hours like a younger sister of the Raph'el Vosper Pathfinder Sect.

Thus, the girl saw this not as the loss of a distant coworker that she had rarely met, but as that of such an elder sister who was deeply connected with her; her panicked expression flared into a cold rage when she looked up behind her and saw the aftermath of the demon's attacks. The parts of the city that the demon touched were akin to the long-lost ruins of Varisia; chaos, rubble, blood, and death lining the streets in a sort of morbid decoration unknown to the sane world. It was true that she didn't like High Castle for its opulence and for its lack of a workman's spirit, but she would never wish such a fate on its people - and now, she was seeing this kind of destruction in Seven Arrows.

The city was her mentor's pride and joy, and thus, it was also her own.

She was deeply in thought, and thus, mostly ignored the appearance of the new Tian youth. She passively accepted Alekk's collective invite as if by reflex; her eyes still affixed to the destruction behind them. For a moment, she felt a mix of relief and sadness - she mourned what had happened to the otherwise quaint city, but whatever had caused that demon to appear, at the very least, most of her sifu's understudies - her elder brothers of the Society - lived through the maelstrom. Her mood lasted, however, until the music box was mentioned. Only then, did she turn to stare at Mac Lir with a complicated expression on her face, her eyes alternating between the sky pirate and the box that he supposedly held, but was currently nowhere in sight.

"You caused all of this for a smuggling job?" She almost wanted to scream at the man - to throw a tantrum, and only held back her anger out of a faintly lingering respect for a famed sky captain and an elder brother of the same sifu. Faint traces of her emotion would resonate every now and then through the collective as incomprehensible images of fire - and even her aura, previously shrouded in water and snow, became a nimbus of a faintly raging inferno. "No. Calm yourself, Xiaomiao." she whispered to herself. "What has happened has already happened. Whatever I say now would not repair the toppled buildings or revive the people that were already dead. Blaming the captain now would not bring La'Min back to us."

"Mac, do you know what the box is for?" Xiaomiao's voice was calm, and her previous emotions seem to be buried deeply as she managed a faint but lucid smile; she was not used to speaking within the collective, so instead, she had used her normal voice, so that even the Tian boy can hear her. Tellingly, she didn't end the question with 'yes', but continued as if nothing was different with her way of speech. "I've now seen it summon a demon that leveled half of the city and killed La'Min, and brought the most vivid minutes of hell that I had ever seen. That's not just a ordinary rare object. What, exactly, does Warren plan to do with something like this?"

Note: by official Pathfinder guidelines, we are supposed to have Chronicles of our exploits written and filed away in the Society archives. As her dutiful self, Xiaomiao would follow this requirement, and I have assumed that everyone else has similar chronicles of their adventures just as a part of Pathfinder tenet - if not written by themselves, then by other, more literary-gifted Chroniclers of the Society.

If your character is the exception to this rule (or if this is untrue in this particular interpretation of PFS), please tell me and I can change this post. This post is basically an expression of Xiaomiao's different beliefs from her culture; how she views her comrades, how she really views the city when it comes down to it, etc. - and why she's Neutral Good.

Also, I think it was obvious which power Xiaomiao took. Since I used it in this scene for dramatic effect, here's a roll on the rounds remaining. Assume that she use it after running to a place where she is adjacent to no one, so no vile damage or push back.

EDIT: Also, her "aura" changing was actually her active element changing to fire, which affects her Elemental Flux stance. Xiaomiao now has Fast Healing 1 for a few unspecified rounds, so feel free to use that to top people off as well.

[Mornings]

(STARTED) Side Quest | ACT II: Crying Wild Bullet (Mythic)
Difficulty: (5) Extreme | Reward: (6) Unearthly | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
Amid Alastor's unearthly assault, High-Castle is left in burning ruin miles above the shielded walls of Vornheim. The destructive path traces a trail of corpses through the once peaceful citadel high above. Now within the Outer City, Lu Lei arrives to guide them to his secret hideaway. They've little time as The Omniscient Rose pursues them closely. Yet all they know will pale before the terrible truth which lay within their hands...

Neth the 3rd, Oathday - 4:40 PM / AR 4732
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
District: Inner Vornheim; - The Walking Mounds


http://i.imgur.com/ZQImo71.jpg


Run Like Hell (Part 2): - Live Through


[The Heros From Afar: Mac Lir / Kourin Alekk Mak Esh / La'Min / Therin / Xiaomiao / Mason / Sredexon]

Lu shook his head, "...Don't have time for all the drama and lights. I'm sure not going to sit around and get killed." He slipped out a strange coated piece of wood, lighting a tindertwig and burning one end. He wafted the smoke over himself before blowing out the burnt stick and tossing it in the shrubberies which decorated the small enclosed patio. As Lu turned to leave, Xiaomiao felt a wave of shrill cold descend upon her. Looking at her own hands, she could see the freezing air waft about her. With a sudden jolt, she sensed something - someone, behind her. With a sharp turn, the figure was gone, yet she glimpsed the faceless shadow of a woman. Though it was for only a second Alekk saw the looming amorphous shape of a woman's shadow linger over the Tian warrior before departing. The cloud of chill air seemed to linger and pierce her skin. She looked down upon the sigil upon her hand. The lights dimmed and flickered, before going out entirely. She felt, diminished, slower, weaker and tired... As if some life stealing veil were draped across her existence. The chill supernatural aura was palpable, a visible darkened mist begun to roil off her skin.

Unexpectedly, a sudden soft flash of light illuminated the area of the circular marble clearing. Sredexon flopped into the magic circle, barely managing to land upon his feet as he was suddenly cast down to the ground from flight by the strange gate way which now lingered many miles above. The path had been gore strewn and nightmarish in its destruction. Seeing his allies again at least affirmed that all had not been lost. But as quickly as he'd arrived, Mac Lir turned to follow a strange boy as he ran off down the finely carved streets. The lad didn't bother wasting time on words and took off with all haste.


***


Neth the 3rd, Oathday - 4:53 PM / AR 4732
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
District: Inner Vornheim; - The Walking Mounds


http://i.imgur.com/ZQImo71.jpg



(Those Following)
The Mounds... No one liked The Mounds. The great and crumbling buildings reached up to the sky like mismatched steel tubes which gently swayed and balanced upon the edges of the last of its stack. It was a haven for criminals which feared the watchful eyes of Warren Trading or The Free. Small and narrow pipes ran along the ground, the only paths through the fields of thick sludge, sewage and oil which intermingled with the hazardous wastes of Capital Vice, the industrious center of Outer Vornheim. Even Mac Lir didn't tread into this city-born swamp. By some miracle, the teetering cylindrical buildings managed to not simply collapse upon themselves - They were never meant to be buildings at all. The Delvers claimed they were once support struts and walkways built around buildings which were being constructed. Constructed by who was the question which each of them dared not ask. Seven-Arrows had more secrets then it did answers, and each came with terrible consequence. The creaking of both the swaying towers which surrounded them and the rusting narrow pipe paths which groaned under their feet created an unsettling scene. The widest of the paths were only 6 inches wide. With the more frequent of 'the streets' being a single metal pipe. Lu Lei deftly dashed along the thin metal pathways as if he lived in the forsaken place. The Mounds was a town unto itself, one which very few dared invade. The perfect place to hide. Lu Lei stopped briefly in front of a forked divide, looking onward at a widening path nearly a foot wide. "...I know you don't come here, but stay out of The Downs. Doves took the place over - the little menaces might not be able to do much on flat ground, but on these pipes? With a good sling? They'll knock your ass straight into the drink." He turned and went off in the other direction, leading further into the wretched heart of The Walking Mounds.

After a moment of non-stop running along the pipes heavy and large brick buildings came into view. It were these buildings which gave the place its name. Lu Lei led the spirited charge to a clearing of crumbling stone. The first solid ground they had seen. A number of individuals scampered about, dressed in ragged and grease covered cloths. Many wearing leather belts lined with heavy iron tools. As if in some coordinated dance, all of the rugged men jumped unto the rungs of heavy bent steel ladders which were nailed unto the sides of the brick structures by heavy pitons. One of the men yelled down below to them. "MOVE YER ASSES, BREAKERS' COMIN'!" With a final dash, they ran inside the largest of buildings just as a large and powerfully built man with an unreasonably large hammer sprinted between the buildings swatting large spikes which stood out from the ground. He made a full circuit of the buildings before he jumped up unto a mounted ladder. With a sudden jarring movement, the ground split with a violent shake sending all three, once adjoined buildings adrift. Lu Lei breathed a sigh of relief. "Whew... That was close. You've no idea how long it takes to figure out when they're going to send a mound 'walking'." The great red stone building drifted through the thick murky sludge like some short of ship. "...Ride this out. I got the Breaker to send this one towards The Kiln. Follow the tunnels and you'll get to Inner Vornheim - discreetly." - "...Discreetly?", "Yeah, it goes right into th- What!?" The unexpected voice spoke out from the second floor of the building where a strange young woman hung over the rotting wooden rails. She wore no footware, and her cloths was nothing except the pleated under-skirt of half of a dress. Lu Lei visibly cringed as he looked up. He broke his gaze from the strange girl who swung her feet nonchalantly above. Her shimmering lime green eyes pierced through the dim light as if she were a cat. Lu looked to Mac Lir. "...Gosh, you've no manner of luck captain. Just... Don't talk to that." He pointed towards the strange girl. "...And you'll be good. Ride it out, and you'll be home free - I need to get out of here and arrange for the drop off. Try not to die." Without waiting for a response, he stepped back drawing a flute, played a quick series of notes and faded from sight in a ghostly display. While Lu's methods were abstract, he was correct - The Mounds did eventually connect to the underground maze of Capital Vice known as The Kiln - which would bring them to Inner Vornheim. The plan was creative, inventive, and likely something not even considered by their pursuers - but Lu still seemed shaken, perhaps by the thought of the enemy which hunted them, or perhaps by the sight of the mysterious girl. From above she leered down upon them silently, now holding a strange a haunting skeletal staff mounted with a reflectionless orb of glass. The strange arcane markings which crossed her limbs seemed to change subtly with each moment. She looked down upon Xiao with bright teasing eyes. "...Does it hurt? It will. They always do. Her curses are quite cruel."


Tales of a spirit are often told of when one speaks of The Mounds. Often as a joke in passing. But those who have dwelled long within the bleak lake of filth know well the urban legends are not child's tales. A witch's spirit wielding vast and terrible power haunts the filth covered depths of the black lake within the sub-surface metropolis. The truth of her nature or origin are long lost. She is simply refered to by the residents of The Mound as The Abstract - An old reference to the god which many claimed Raph'æl to be after the victory of SandPoint.

Mythic Trials are very rarely possible to complete without great struggle, or loss. Recruiting allies and sometimes, enemies, will provide the edge you will need to triumph on your journey to godhood. Only Iconic Characters can be recruited by PCs for Mythic Adventures. Not all characters are immediately eligible for recruitment. When certain conditions specific to the individual are met, a character will be listed as (ICONIC) and can be recruited by a PC. Relationships with NPCs vary with each individual and their interactions, as well as their likes and dislikes. Significant interactions and events with the NPC generate Affinity. Creatures with negative Affinity can become unhelpful, or hostile. While creatures with a high Affinity for an individual will be friendly, or perhaps even romantically involved with the object of their affection. Affinity is not influenced by a creature's charisma or Skill Ranks in social skills. Gather your allies and assemble a mighty team to conquer the challenges ahead.

Some mysterious chill lingers upon the Tian. The evil energy drains her of her focus and physical abilities. The ghastly shroud of dark mist rolling from her figure is testament to some nameless and profane magic. Even without true answers, she is sure of it. She has been cursed. The strength of the unknown essence steals her strength with each moment...

Orphans mostly. A band of young adults and children who live upon the street. Many of which the sons and daughters of former criminals who crossed the wrong people. The band of mischievous children survive alone by praying upon the weak or unsuspecting, stealing whatever they can. Some organizations recruit fine pickpockets and padfoots from those who lived as Doves, graduating into fully grown criminals, often for the very groups which likely killed their parents. The life they live is a cold and callous one.

While not spoken of often. The Men of The Hammer, as they are called. Are great demolitions and mechanics hailing from Low-Castle. They wield massive hammers to drive spikes into the remnants of the structures which still float about the foul ocean building new and inhabitable bastions of society within The Mounds. They are well known within their community as great persons of dauntless bravery and momentous strength as they sunder the stone and cast buildings into the sea with pinpoint accuracy. War within The Mounds is often fought between Breakers casting massive missiles of hurtling landmasses across the water into their enemy. The proud and exceptionally skilled hands of the Breakers are not for sale to any man, and thus live in seclusion within the filth-littered underbelly of the city.




(ICONIC) The Abstract

http://i44.photobucket.com/albums/f7/DreadfulMorning/%20Naiisif%20Auglathla%20Tel%20Hanau_zpscfzwmkxd.j pg






[/SIZE][/FONT]

[BizzaroStormy]

Stredexon nearly topples over after his abrupt landing. A few remaining drops of Edge's acid fleck off his cloak and burn almost apricot sized holes in the ground. While appearing to be unharmed, most of his newly grown skin is pale, pink, and clearly visible since the one article of non-magical clothing he was wearing has been burned off of his body...his pants. Despite his situation, he seems relatively chipper once he sees that his companions made it out alive, though he takes notice of the doom-and-gloom attitude that seems to be present in the group. "Wow, that was some crazy ride...friggin acid-breathing....the hell was that guy?" he asks in a somewhat comical tone, hoping to lighten the mood.

There's a disappointed look on his face as the group runs off before he can even get a chuckle, but he follows them all the same, having no trouble keeping up. He'd only been in the mounds once or twice since he came to live in Seven Arrows so the story of roving bands of orphans would have seemed unbelievable had he not just seen a man come out unscathed from having grenade explode in his head. He keeps fairly quiets during the run through the streets and looks on with a bit of childlike wonder as the party floats off on a detached building.

[Felyndiira]

Xiaomiao coughed, as if her very lifespan was slowly escaping from her lips.

She was silent during the journey. Whether the captain had answered her prior question, she did not know; her attention was suddenly occupied by the strange apparition that had appeared and disappeared like a flowing breeze, leaving her with a feeling of weakness - like she was standing, naked, in the middle of a blizzard. She had reached toward that apparition when it struck her - tried to strike it, to grasp at it, or do anything that would prove to her that her enemy had somehow existed then and there, but her assailant simply vanished from existance, leaving only the image of a ruined High-Castle to greet her weary eyes.

When she was exuberant a moment ago, she was struggling to move within the black aura that suddenly appeared before her, slowly eating away at her strength. The girl wanted to say something - to talk and tell her elder brothers about the curse, but restrained herself out of concern for their own safety. Whatever misgivings she had about this whole affair, that boy was right - they had to leave this place. With her strength draining, she would be even more of a burden should they catch the attention of agents from the Free Traders.

Standing there, aimlessly reminiscing about destroyed cities and ruined lives, was also not going to change what had already happened. Xiaomiao gave the ruined remnants of her sifu's once-proud city a rather sad second glance, whispered something before running after her companions.

***

Xiaomiao's vision was blurring when they finally reached the hideout. Her body normally wasn't this feeble - the curse left her gasping for breath after a few steps, and her entire body in pain as if pricked by a million needles at once. She faintly heard the smuggler boy say something, but was in no condition to pay attention to him. The smuggling didn't really concern her anyhow; her objective was her sifu's mission. By association, it was Therin. It was Alekk. It was probably Mac as well. As long as her elder brothers were safe and able to continue the mission, then whatever kind of gold Mac may be chasing from this music box of hell is only a footnote.

The girl slumped against a wall; black mist was leaking from her body now, but she tried to keep a straight, faint smile. She was still worried about the music box, and presumed that whatever had happened to her ; a small part of her tried to blame Mac for her condition, but she quickly pushed this thought away. She was sure that an elder brother of the same sifu - an understudy chosen by Raph'el himself - would not do something like this on purpose. The good captain, too, must have been pushed into this mess; or, perhaps, he entered this agreement without knowing the full extent of the destruction that it could cause, and now have no choice but to continue moving forward.

She didn't even realize that she was already slowly slipping from the wall. The Tian boy's words became blurred together, until an unfamiliar - familiar? - voice rang out inside the room.

"Well, well. This is quite a fitting fate, is it not?"

"Who is that?" The girl looked up, and found herself in an unfamiliar place; she was no longer in the mounds - rather, she was in a familiar cavern, arranged in such a way that it forms a round, unending hallway. She glanced confusedly around her before her eyes finally fell upon the figment of the young Tian boy before her. "...No, I remember. Lusong, yes?"

"I'm glad you still remember me." A mocking laughter, though the boy wore no expression of glee on his face. "Do you still know why I'm here?"

"...to get revenge?"

"Aye. It's been so long, Tian Xiaomiao." The boy spoke with an eerie quiet, almost as if he wasn't actually angry at the girl that bullied him for so many years of his life, despite his words seemingly consumed with the idea of vengeance. "You, and that arrogant ****** Fei Xiarong. That ***** Huang Meiwu. Well, I guess those two are untouchable for now, but isn't this still a grand scene? Who would have thought that the little princess of the renowned 'Tianmen Sect' was just like me? A demon to be shunned, from a demon sect?"

Xiaomiao didn't answer. She simply looked at the boy with a somewhat pained expression, unable to speak a single word.

"How does it feel to join the 'demon' club, Xiaomiao? I heard that your daddy died trying to protect you. I heard you trapled over all of your fellow students' lives to live and come over here to this little slice of the inner continent. Looks like you've been pretending to be a good girl, too, being all nice and respectful and all that s**t with your new group of friends. Do they know what you did to a poor, innocent little boy while you were still playing the princess of the neighborhood?"

Silence.

"Well, does it hurt to know that you'll be dying the same way I did? Alone, and forgotten by the world because your so-called friend wanted power and wealth?"

No response.

"Well? Does it hurt?" His voice shifted. "It will. They always do. Her curses are quite cruel."

***

"It does hurt..." she whispered hoarsely, as the spectre of her memories disappeared from her eyes.

The figure of the young girl was the first to greet her eyes. Xiaomiao slowly turned her head, still supporting herself against the wall while weakly studing the presence of this strange being. She wasn't very familiar with this girl, but a cursory glance could tell her that this girl was not an ordinary person. "She seems to know about the curse," she thought; perhaps this child was the one who truly cursed her? Perhaps she is a sage, or she simply knows of a cure?

"But, I think I can still move about." Xiaomiao suddenly rose from where she was lying, feinging a rush of strength. She gave a courteous bow to the little child, as if addressing her superior instead of someone seemingly a decade younger. In truth, Xiaomiao did have her suspicions - she did not know if the child was responsible for the curse, what her purpose was for appearing before the party, or whether she was a friend or foe at this moment. What she does know, however, is this - even if the child was the source of the curse, it made no attempt to attack anyone at the moment. Thus, there was no reason to do anything but to talk with her.

Plus, she really does look rather adorable.

"You are not an acquaintance of sifu, yes?" The girl reached into her pockets and pulled out a few pieces of confectionery - after popped a piece into her own mouth, she offered the second to the girl, and tossed a third piece to Dexon after some consideration. She wore a genuine smile as she spoke to the child - completely ignoring the frigid curse spreading through her body. "My name is Tian Xiaomiao - a member of the Pathfinder Society. Can I ask for your name?"

[forg99rules]

Mac looked around at everyone and noticed how tired they all looked. He decided at that moment that he should probably tell them all what exactly was going on since a few had asked and noone had gotten a straight answer yet, Himself included.

"Alright everyone since we have a little bit of rest time let me go ahead and tell you what is going on" Pulling the Object that was given to him out of his coat he holds it up, "I was Hired to deliver this for The Warrens, Now i dont know exactly what it is but if what Lu said was true then it is a music box of some sort, I dont know why everyone wants it so badly but i intend to complete this delivery. As for the La'Min's death i will personally take care of getting her a grave made and ensuring that she will be remember by all, I honestly hope that i never have to watch another friend die."

"You are all welcome to join me or you can take your leave once we get to other grounds"

Having heard the Abract mention a Curse on Xiaomiao, Mac looked over at her and noticed that she seemed weak and tired. Watching Xiaomiao stand up Mac saw even more how tired she must be but at least she has spirit enough to continue. Hearing Xiaomiao talk to the Abstract he couldn't help but wonder if the warning was to the group as a whole to not speak to her or if it was specifically him that shouldn't. He decided to wait and see what happens.

[Tacitus]

Alekk glares at Mac as he speaks of his parcel aloud, but does not interrupt the smuggler from blurting out potentially sensitive information when the walls have not been checked for ears. Once he is done speaking he speaks telepathically to all, 'I advise any further mention of the box or anything else potentially sensitive be limited to telepathy. Speaking of...' He looks over to Xiaomiao and flashes a mental image of the woman he had seen across the Collective as he continues, 'Saw this shape over you, likely who has placed this unpleasantness upon you. If its a curse or enchantment, I've a scroll, but the chance of breaking it is likely to be minimal until we can learn more about whatever it is.' Even as he says this Xiaomiao can feel Alekk's attention on her beyond just his physical gaze, as though his mind is looking into her body to examine her health in more detail.

28/47 starting PP

Untrained in knowledge local, so skipping the roll.

Heal [roll0] vs DC 15 to check Xiaomiao for Poison or Disease through the collective via Health Sense.

HP:61/61
AC: 28/16/23
20% Miss Chance vs Melee and Ranged (DC 19 Disbelief)
Saves 10/9/16
Land Speed 40ft

Ascension!
4 Ascension Points
UNIQUE-Immortal Hour: Once every 1d12 Hours, as an Immediate Action, the user may roll his HD. The result, divided by half (minimum 1), grants him Regeneration X/Magic for 1d4 minutes. After using this ability, the caster ceases to age via mundane or magical means for 1 hour. If the caster would be killed during this hour, he may instead opt to activate a Deathless Minute. While under the effect of Deathless Minute, he may choose to delay his death for 1d6 Rounds. If the remaining damage after the Deathless Minute expires would kill him, the user dies as normal - If the subsequent damage is no longer lethal, the caster continues to live. This ability may only be used once per Immortal Hour. He need not be conscious when making the decision to activate this ability. Abilities which would slay him outright (Such as death-effects) are delayed, but not negated - Upon the effect's end, the caster would be slain. (Healing while under the effect of Immortal Hour is not subject to this game's healing houserule, and must be done normally)

Essence: Capacity 2 [+1 for one] DCs 11+E+Int. 11 Essence Total.
Veils:
[0] Riven Darts: X darts that deal 1d4+Xd4, no more than 2 darts per target. 20ft Ranged Touch as Standard
[3] Pestilence Cloak: 20% Miss Chance vs Range and Melee, Will Disbelief DC [16+X], Fly Clumsy 5+5Xft
[0] Ditchdigger Armlets: Full Round Act to create 10x10 difficult terrain, deals 1d6+Xd6 damage. 1d4 round cooldown
[2] Stalker's Tabi: +2+2X Acrobatics&Stealth

Feats:
[1] Akashic Augmentation: Chose a power. Cost is -X, only applies to Augments, can't reduce extra cost below 1. Can't invest more than power level
-Power Selected: Natural Healing

Racial:
[2] Speed: +10ft*X land speed.
[2] Natural Armor: +X Natural Armor
[1] Spines: Two 1d4 Spine attacks as primary natural weapons. Every odd after 1 adds +1 Enhancement

Charged Items:
[0] Wand of Lesser Restoration
[0] Wand of Cure Light Wounds
[0] Wand of Invisibility

[Triskavanski]

Therin blinks as he's finally told what happened to La'Min. He shakes his head slowly, looking just a tad crest fallen. In truth he was quite a bit more than just a tad, but it was important to try and keep a good poker face, even if you weren't gambling. "Ruddy lot shame thats what that is."[/COLOR] he mumbles to himself, before nodding and taking the offered wand as they begin to finish their break.[COLOR="#DDA0DD"]"If I could just use that for a bit, I'll give it right back

Zapping himself with a wand twice, he hands it back. He was after all quite skilled like that, despite not being a magic user. Silently he follows the others to were they were being led, and sits silently on the ground as the mound 'walks' towards the kiln. He didn't have anything to say at the moment.

Just.. He was sure she had the same sort of thing on her hand as they were running. It glowed too. Why was he alive and she was dead? No, she couldn't have died. Flipping his hand around he stares at the palm. "So wot is it about you? Did I cross into a different timeline? Unlock some sort of secretive magical power?Did I use her life in exchange for mine?" he shakes his head at the last thought. Start thinking like that and everything is done for. But still he racked his mind on trying to figure out what just happened in those moment he was running.

[Mornings]

(STARTED) Side Quest | ACT II: Crying Wild Bullet (Mythic)
Difficulty: (5) Extreme | Reward: (6) Unearthly | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
Amid Alastor's unearthly assault, High-Castle is left in burning ruin miles above the shielded walls of Vornheim. The destructive path traces a trail of corpses through the once peaceful citadel high above. Now within the Outer City, Lu Lei arrives to guide them to his secret hideaway. They've little time as The Omniscient Rose pursues them closely. Yet all they know will pale before the terrible truth which lay within their hands...

Neth the 3rd, Oathday - 4:49 PM / AR 4732
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
District: Inner Vornheim; - The Walking Mounds


http://i.imgur.com/ZQImo71.jpg


Run Like Hell (Part 2): - Live Through


[The Heros From Afar: Mac Lir / Kourin Alekk Mak Esh / La'Min / Therin / Xiaomiao / Sredexon]

The large stone building swiftly swayed and bobbed as it cut a path through the black waves. They had made such swift and frantic headway they had not even bothered to assess who could keep up with the hastened pace. Mason was no where to be seen. It was far too late now, the island of stone drifted through the foul smelling mire...

The young woman stood upon the rotted wooden railing, walking along the thin rail without so much as a hint of balance - appearing more as if she were glued to the surface. Xiao felt a tap upon her shoulder, looking behind herself to see the strange figure now standing beside her - completing displaced from her position upon the second flood. "...Pathfinder? Hehe. What's that?" She turned in a slow circle as if she were looking for something, yet her eyes were closed - completing a full circle. "Hm... I don't know. But this one was called Naiisif... Naiisif Auglathla Tel Ha'nau. Quite strange sounding isn't it? I think so." She begun walking through the party, making circles around each of them, eyeing them closely, as if they were being inspected. "You are strange ones. Why would She curse this one? ...Very bad it is. Not many survive Her curses." She dug around in her dress-top producing a dingy Harrow Card. Its surface was far too smudged to even make out the faint image of the picture which had rotted away with age and humid air. "Oh my. Oh my. Quite dreadful, dreadful indeed. Poor girl, sad girl. You will wither away without aid..... This one used to live here. She collected many things to ward from cursed. She has something to help, perhaps you should search this place - The Maw draws closer. Your end, nearer. Best it is to leave prepared, for you may not leave again." The strange woman slowly walked up the splintered and broken steps to the floor above, vanishing from sight.


Perhaps there is something useful buried in all the debris and junk of the condemned building. There's only one way to find out...



Run Like Hell (Part 2): - The Kiln: Live Through

The building swayed and bobbed on for another hours before finally and unexpectedly jolting sharply as it crashed into the ground. A great wave of sludge reared up and splashed upon the strange new sight. Out of the windows they could see into the great cavernous drop - it was mostly blackness, with the exception of the molten waterfall which poured down over the seemingly infinite ledge to the very bottom of the massive drop. A great broken mound of steel and stone formed a circular gateway - a tunnel down into the depths below. While few visited the air-starved depths of The Kiln, and fewer still returned. It was no mystery what waited at the bottom of the jagged cavernous leap. Buildings from The Mounds washed ashore and fell into the great graveyard of architecture. Only The Delvers came this far - the paths changed in a kaleidoscope of blurring motion, and the cavernous depths housed vicious and brutal creatures which were once men. Though it was only rumor, whispers of strange mechanical nightmares where whispered to linger within the bowels of the subterranean expanse. While some creatures were said to live below, it was not voluntary. Few beings could navigate the endless shifting tunnels, and fewer still could survive what lingered below. It was a dangerous gambit crossing into The Kiln - but still preferable to risking encountering The Omniscient Rose.



ASCENSION

Advancement: First Side Quest Started - Sredexon


Ascension Surge:You have unlocked a small measure of your divine power. This new fraction of divinity has graced you with a new awareness. The perception of Causality and Time. You have learned to tap into it, bend it and even re-write it. Changing events which may have occurred at your very whim. However this power is extremely limited and consumes a large portion of your achieved divinity with each use.

Performing an Ascension Surge consumed one point of Ascension. Unlike Mythic Power used to perform a Mythic Surge, these points will never be restored. More points can be gained by completing challenging events and Side Quests, but otherwise provide an extremely limited pool. Ascension Points can provided numerous static benefits for having them - however these abilities are unlocked with future Ascension Advancements and are unavailable while starting. Choosing when to expend Ascension Points should be considered very carefully as you will not be getting them back, and it will decrease the effectiveness of numerous future Ascension Abilities gained in the future.

Use: You may expend 1 Point of Ascension as an Immediate Action at any point you desire. This Immediate Action does not count against your actions during your following round as would a traditional Immediate Action. Furthermore, a conventional Immediate Action may be taken with, during, or in conjunction with an Ascension Surge.

After making any single roll, you may roll again (This need not be on a d20). Take the higher of the two results. If the new result would still fail, then take the higher of the two results - This result receives a +20 Untyped Bonus to the attempt. If the result would succeed - It succeeds as if you have made a Critical Success (Nat 20). Attacks confirmed in this manner do not need to confirm Critical Threat and pass automatically. If the result does not pass even with the applied Untyped Bonus, the result fails as normal and the Ascension Surge is wasted. Use of Ascension Surge to accomplish a task does so with extreme and often impossible results and should be used only while in the greatest need.


ASCENSION POINTS GAINED: 4
(+1) Extreme Difficulty | (+1) LoFP: Challenging | (+1) Mythic | (1 Points) Default


Neth the 3rd, Oathday - 4:40 PM / AR 4732
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
District: Inner Vornheim; - The Walking Mounds


http://i.imgur.com/ZQImo71.jpg



[The Hero Astray: Mason]

Mason ran as fast as he could, but amid the winding allies and crowded streets - he quickly lost sight of the padfoot and his companions. He darted through the back streets frantically glancing about himself - but they were gone. The streets thinned and the people all to quickly became sparse. Even he knew, where there were not people, was trouble. A number of grim faced - dead eyed looking men walked out of the painfully small back-building trash-isles. The men came upon him from both sides with devilish grins. Their mangled and torn leathers smelled of refuse and rotting trash mingled with stale ale. The bald, scarred men drew large daggers - "Not your lucky day, kid" From behind him, someone cleared their throat. The man who spoke looked away from Mason to the figure behind him. "Oh shi- "

A flash of gleaming sliver, followed by a the viscous spray of gore was all he could make out. What had happened? He couldn't be sure. A gargled cry frothed out from the man's mouth as his upper torso fell from his body. The men around him scattered in all directions. As they vanished around the narrow corners of the filth packed troth's which collected discarded filth, he could hear their horrified cries... then silence. He looked behind himself, bloodied and damp from the spray of gore. A woman stood behind him with a devilish smile. "My, do you like trouble, sweatie? ...Or are you just a new to the city." She scooted forward, wrapping an arm around his own aggressively. "Don't worry, cutie. I'll show you around... You can call me Woe, everyone does. It's not my real name of course, but it's more fun that way - isn't it?" The name wasn't immediately familiar, but he could swear he'd heard the name before.... But from where?


Jessica was a member of The L'Zanili Family in another life. A life of bad decisions and lust drove a wedge between herself and The Free Hands. Having run from home to venture about the land, she had a short and disastrous career as a Pathfinder. The woman was as volatile as she was passionate - but those vary features drove her to terrible ends. The promise of freedom and power eventually drove her to Korvosa and a momentous career as a Duster. Her reign of murder and abductions cast a bloody shadow upon the city, and a legend of fear which would never diminish. The Shadowmaster, Daltanis a feared assassin of the underworld took great interest in her - training her in his many secret lessons of death. Ancient teachings from Okeno and the famed Duskwalkers of The Nightstalls. Reaching the pinnacle of her career she returned to Seven-Arrows, creating a guild of female enforcers known as The Omniscient Rose. The strange, and frightfully descriptive nature of her killing methods are still mystery to even her closest of confidants. Those who known her have resolved it must be some form of magic - a weapon without form or substance which slays those who cross the woman's path, inspiring her nickname. Jess has grown equally in her infamy for taking many lovers and anything else she desires - often by force.




(ICONIC) Woe: Jessica Daltanis


http://i44.photobucket.com/albums/f7/DreadfulMorning/35af608454244373d6151143ee4af08f%20-%20Copy_zpso0lxgvmb.jpg

[BizzaroStormy]

Finally having some breathing room, Strdexon sits himself against the wall of the building and rummages through his obviously extradimensional pack. He produces a handful of items from the bag and returns them with an annoyed look on his face; first a small case that clinks and clatters with various glass vessels, then a handful of small paper parcels loosely secured with twine, part of a long spool of striped yellow cord, a 6 pack of uniform and tightly wrapped bricks with "CAUTION: HIGH EXPLOSIVE" written on the side in big red letter, and finally, the item he'd been looking for. Another backpack! This one is a dark drab green with a webbing vest hooked to it. He retrieves a pair of similarly-colored pants and puts them on before stuffing the whole shebang back into his magical pack.

"I don't know about the rest of you but im going to take a look around this little 'barge' of ours. Clear my head a bit." With that, he saunters off to look around.

I'll just take a 10 and search as much as I can in whatever amount of time we have before whatever is going to happen, happens. Total perception: 36, Darkvision 60 if necessary.

[Triskavanski]

Therin grumbled slightly incoherently, shaking his head. No good was going to come of this thing in his hand. Just what in the world was he mixed up with? Already one of their numbers was gone, not even a body to bury her in. And now another is cursed with something. "Bloody magick." he grumbles under his breath.

He wasn't an anti-magic enthusiast, just that too often its used as a quick fix when the good old fashion way would have worked better and been much more stable. "Well 'Ave a lookin fer stuff is sumfink I can do, Luv. I'll find ye someffin nice ta cop that curse off ya."

And with that he scurries around the area searching for things. Ah yes, that was something he could do after all. Defeating demons, out witting leprechauns, he couldn't do that. Not at all. But he could find some useful things that he could.

He pauses blinking for a moment as he begins counting the others, something nagging on his mind. "Oh for the bloody luv of all that is 'oly, we're missin anuvver one of us already! Right! Wait no.. Oh no I counted meself. Suck an elf! Oi!"

[Felyndiira]

For a moment, Xiaomiao's expression did not change. "Wither away, huh?" she said softly, as if still speaking to the mysterious little girl. "That's a familiar feeling. It was only due to sifu's help that it didn't happen seven years ago." The girl wandered around a bit, mechanically searching the area as if in unison with Therin and Stredexon. After a few moments, as if suddenly realizing something, she suddenly stood up and looked around her. Seeing only her companions, she looked at where the girl had previously disappeared, and uttered what she remembered to be her name.

"Naiisif? Miss Tel Ha'nau?" She seemed a bit alarmed by the girl's disappearance, as if still a bit dazed from what had happened before. She faintly heard Therin's words of support and relaxed a little, but still. "Many thanks," she replied, lightly hugging the ratfolk with whatever strength she could muster; she looked at the stairs that the girl disappeared in, and tried to moved towards it - but found the task exceedingly difficult. "Miss Tel Ha'nau?" she shouted again, realizing that the little girl would likely leave if she did not inquire further. Even as she called out to the girl, she still continued to search the area - but not desperately, as someone facing death would otherwise be. "Please forgive my rudeness in asking such questions, but I am here in search of my sifu - a man by the name of Raph'el Vosper who had disappeared in recent times. Do you happen to know anything about him? Would you, perhaps, be able to help me find him?"

Xiaomiao didn't mention the witch on purpose. Her use of the word "me" instead of "us" is also on purpose - she doesn't believe the girl to be an enemy because she doesn't even know what a Pathfinder is, but in case if something is wrong she can take the trouble on herself and just say that her party members have nothing to do with this.

Also, her bluff check is very low =p.

Search Check to find stuff while all of this is going on: [roll0]

[forg99rules]

Watching the Witch and listening to what she says, Hearing that their might be something left behind that could aid his friend Mac immediately starts to search through the debris.

After the sudden stop Mac looked over the edge "Damn that would suck to fall down into." While still looking for something to aid Xiaomiao Mac starts to mentally Tally up the what has happened. "First that ass hires me to deliver the box, Second he then also pays Alekk, Third a damn demon decides to show up and almost kills us all, Fourth the hands killed the guy i needed to deliver this to and laid claim on the package, Fifth Lu shows up saying that the damn Roses are after use, Sixth Xiaomiao gets cursed, Seventh The Abstract shows her face claiming a sort of aid... Damn this box is nothing but trouble... The pay had damn well be worth this hell, and if it isn't well someone is going to have a reeeaaallllyyyy bad day."


Mac is going to cast Detect Magic to assist with searching...
Perception [roll1d20+14] (like i even need to)

Also Mac isn't realizing that he is sending his mental notes over the collective...

[Mornings]

(STARTED) Side Quest | ACT II: Crying Wild Bullet (Mythic)
Difficulty: (5) Extreme | Reward: (6) Unearthly | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
Amid Alastor's unearthly assault, High-Castle is left in burning ruin miles above the shielded walls of Vornheim. The destructive path traces a trail of corpses through the once peaceful citadel high above. Now within the Outer City, Lu Lei arrives to guide them to his secret hideaway. They've little time as The Omniscient Rose pursues them closely. Yet all they know will pale before the terrible truth which lay within their hands...

Neth the 3rd, Oathday - 4:59 PM / AR 4732
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
District: Inner Vornheim; The Walking Mounds - The Kiln


http://i.imgur.com/ZQImo71.jpg



Run Like Hell (Part 2): - The Kiln: Live Through

Xiaomiao follow the path the strange girl took. She found her behind the stairs, strangely. While it appeared she had gone her own way and up to the second floor, here she was - drawing weird and arcane shapes upon her skin. "Hm.... That man? Someone knows, but it is not she, nor me. This one would help you, if you help me. A strange man has cursed this one. Cursed very different then you, but cursed just the same. If you go below, then find a strange one - a man-creature named Bloody Wolf. He may free me from this prison, but he will not be willing. You will find him below in The Kiln, with many others... who are not willing. If you will face him, it will be alone." She turned away, drawing more dark seals upon herself.






(DISCOVERED) Side Quest | Hope Rides Alone (Solo) (Iconic)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (0) Minimal | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
Some manner of curse binds the strange woman known as The Abstract. A curse of a nature and origin muddled in questions. However, the solution has been presented by the girl. A man, or beast, known only as Bloody Wolf lurks somewhere within The Kiln, surviving in the hostile and inhospitable environment. Other mysterious creatures lurk within his domain as well, a domain hidden somewhere within the bleak and grim expanses below. Though she did not explain further, for whatever reason, only one person would be capable of taking up her charge. No doubt, the answers would reveal themselves soon, including the curse which binds the quiet spiritly-witch. Only one thing was certain... Hope rides alone.

Therin, Dexon and Mac Lir begun their search in earnest as the squat stone building bobbed and rocked in the rising tide. Therin's nose brought him to a strange cupboard. The rickety thing was molded over and rotting, yet it seemed strangely placed. Pushing in the mossy wooden structure, it collapsed backward, revealing a small pantry. Upon its shelves were weird and dusty fist-sized crystal gems, roughly cut. Their black reflection-less glass held a pulsating fiery sphere within their center. A number of small, perhaps magical items lay strewn about the shelves as well, but his attention was drawn by a small burnt manual - a journal perhaps.

- ???? (Strange Black Crystals x6)
- Wand of ????
- Potion of ????
- Potion of ????
- Potion of ????
- Burnt Journal: ( The books pages have been heavily damaged. There are a number of maps partially scribbled upon its pages, in addition to mentions of the 'hunting of witches'. Though it is brief, the fragmented passages detail the use of an item known as a HexSiphon. While you've never heard of the thing, the passages of the book explain the use of 'crystal devices' to power it. Perhaps hinting at some function of the strange gems you've recovered.)

Sredexon moved about the place, digging through and mounds of old scum soaked debris. It was obvious this place had been sitting within this foul sea for perhaps centuries... He was very much aware of the fact that Seven-Arrows itself was not even that old, but within this city, one learned at a certain point it was best to not ask unnecessary questions. Anomalies were the common occurrence within this city... and the supernatural was the natural. One could only imagine what forces Raph'æl employed to build this place.... His foot dipped in the the ground slightly, a creaking from below as a weak panel gave way beneath him. He kicked through the splintered wood, revealing a strange cache of equipment. He reached down and dug through the strange and unusual equipment. He lifted up the large heavy coat which covered most of the contents. Taking a curtsy glance at a strange dagger, apparently made of adamantine. His eye was drawn to a weird and whimsical looking old rifle.... The weapon was heavy, very heavy. Though it had a chamber, it accepted no ammunition he'd ever seen. A large palm-sized breach in its side hinted at extraordinarily large projectiles.. or so he thought. Looking at the weapon's 'barrel', it was not a barrel at all, but rather a half-way hollowed out rod of horicalcum with a strange glasslike tube within it. As to its function, as a firearm or not, he could only guess. Perhaps some form of arcane weapon. Upon the weapon's side was an inlaid golden name.... 'CORVAL'.


- ???? (Arcane Rifle? / LBS 25)

- GreyKnife: A knife once popular with the Inquisitors of old. The weapon fell into disuse as it became a symbol of the violence and brutality which with the inquisitors employed against those who were charged of witchcraft and similar heresy. The thick, razor sharp blade is 2ft long, sturdy and designed with cruelty and torture in mind.
(Damage: 1d6 / Crit: 18-20x2 / Throw: 20ft / LBS: 3 lbs)
(Special: - This weapon may be used as a Piton, Grappling Hook or Crowbar. Additionally, gain a +4 Circumstance Bonus to Intimidate when used to torture other creatures.)

- Inquisitor's Longcoat


Mac Lir searched the premise with Xiao, the sudden rocking of the building drew both their attention. The black waves swelled and ran over the ledge, into the dark and massive tunnel... The massive building was lifted above the 'shore' which had ceased their previous progression as the whole of the building begun to proceed down into the tunnel. The magically augmented senses from the captain's arcane senses was prodded with a dense and considerable pressure which only mounted with each moment. He turned, beginning to walk up the stairs. The old steps groaned and moaned, one snapped beneath him, nearly sending him toppling over, but he caught his balance at the last moment. Upon the second floor, he caught sight of the strange girl again, sitting before a large door of clear and sleekly painted crimson. The portal was new, as if it had been finished only moments ago, the lacquer still wet. The pulse within his mind only built as he approached tensely... he didn't like the feel of this one, not with how his day had been. The girl scribbled upon her skin with charcoal. "You see it too, don't you... You must carry a brand. A Black Brand. The other's can't see it... only those who stand within the interstice, between this world, and their's can see the doors..." She pointed at the shut portal's large silver-gleaming lock, where a massive key sat. "Take it. The key which unlocks nothing, and shuts things of this world... Perhaps it will help.... Or not."

- Key (A large key which holds nearly 50 teeth to locks which you've never seen... A skeleton key perhaps)


Xiaomiao's attention was drawn to the growing darkness which begun to descend as they descended further into the bowels of The Kiln. The heat of the air was somewhat uncomfortable, and only increased with time. Upon the stairs she saw an old rod. At first it appeared as nothing more then a wooden dowel, yet with closer inspection, and whipping away the dust and grim, she saw the arcane markings which raced and spiraled on its surface. Its top was a crown in the form of some corvid-claw. A black twitching 3 fingered set of talons of animated blackened steel. She couldn't be sure what it was, or what it did... but it looked important.

- A Staff? (The animated claw of black metal seems to hint at another purpose. Clearly some form of unusual magic item.)



The building has now descended within The Kiln. While the barge itself is slow, and advancing, you could just as easily leave the building and travel by foot. The massive tunnel of stone and metal branches off in a number of directions...

[BizzaroStormy]

Stredexon examines the odd weapon with the look of a curious child on his face. He nearly forgets the other items tucked under the floorboards before tucking the dagger into his boot and the coat in his pack. He goes over the the weapon over and over on his way back to the others, only a small part of him wondering if anyone else had found something. As he gets back, he sets his back against the building once again, still trying to glean some clue as to the function of the rifle, or at least when kind of ammunition it would use.

[Triskavanski]

Therin digs through the refuge, calmly grumbling until he finds the gemstones and potions. Without much more to ask, especially since the others were still looking for stuff themselves, he begins observing the potions, his knowledge of alchemy working to identify the liquids in the glass vials.

When he pulls out the wand, the lenses of his goggles begin to whirl and and ajust, pointing out key elements of the object he begins to use to identify the wand as well. Lastly he carefully pockets the book and crystals.

"I found some potions, a wand and some crystals. There's something that uses the crystal to do a hexsiphon or something.

[Felyndiira]

The sound of the barge and the building moving within the tunnels woke the girl from her trance-like state. She had heard Mac Lir's words from within the collective (and resolved to keep her own thoughts quieter in the future). In truth, Xiaomiao wasn't supportive of the captain's actions; to sacrifice the lives of that many people - possibly La'Min with them - and still mostly be concerned about money was rather repulsive. Even putting aside their task of finding their teacher, was the thought of money worth more than the blood-brothers and blood-sisters of their shared sifu? Worth more than the grand city that their teacher had built, or the innocent lives that resided within the maelstorm of destruction that he had indirectly caused?

She had decided to put it aside moments before, and remained silent - her father has always taught her to be a good person and to think of others before herself, but she still felt a bit bitter at the situation. Sure, it was probably not the captain's fault - he would not have known the destruction that this particular smuggling job would cause, and it was the right decision to not linger too long at the past. Still, whatever brave front she may have put up, it's almost impossible for a normal person - let alone a child like her - to not feel a bit of injustice from being cursed because someone else just wanted money. If this was all truly because of the smuggling heist, why was she the one chosen for the curse, and the perpetrator himself still unharmed by the whole mess?

She thought back to the remains of High-Castle; would the people that died there today feel about the same? Is it their collective bitterness that triggered the curse that she was feeling now? No, the girl had mentioned her. In her daze, she had somehow assumed the abs...Naiisif Tel Ha'nau was somehow the cause, and had forgotten to ask about this mysterious person's identity. Well, perhaps it was all as well - if the items from within the house could remove this curse, then the identity of their assailant would likely not matter. If she could invoke a death curse on complete strangers with such ease, what chance to any of them have to actually fight - or even find - her?

"It's not like this negativity is doing me any favors, either," she sighed to herself, dismissing her prior thoughts. She leaned a bit on the staff as she wobbled back to Therin and Alekk, trying to - and failing - to understand the arcane properties within. Upon hearing Therin's words, she wordlessly tossed the staff in front of them and slowly allowed herself to drop to the ground.

"The only thing I was able to find is this." She spoke softly, as if only to the two people before her. "I wasn't able to discern what it is, however. Perhaps this is the 'Hexsiphon' that you are speaking of?"

[forg99rules]

Having hear what the Absract said Mac again looked at the door, figuring that the Abstract knew something he didn't about the key Mac decided to take it. Walking back down the stair Mac made sure to take care not to fall.

Once down the stairs he looked around seeing that others had found stuff of their own, Noticing the way that Stredexon was looking at the Odd Gun he had found Mac thought he could take a closer look and see if he could determine what its purpose was.

Having looked out the gun enough Mac then chose to take a look at the staff Here let me see if i can figure anything out about it.


Spellcraft checks
[roll0]Gun
[roll1]Staff

[Mornings]

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(ABANDONED) Side Quest | ACT II: Crying Wild Bullet (Mythic)
Difficulty: (5) Extreme | Reward: (6) Unearthly | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
....The world they had known as has changed. The alterations within the streams of causality have left The Black Brand removed from Mac Lir's possession. All the work, sacrifice and suffering will be for not, unless the box is reclaimed. Only 'she' knows where within the past it has fallen.

(DISCOVERED) Side Quest | Hope Rides Alone (Solo) (Iconic)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (0) Minimal | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
Some manner of curse binds the strange woman known as 'The Abstract'. A curse of a nature and origin muddled in questions. However, the solution has been presented by the girl. A man, or beast, known only as Bloody Wolf lurks somewhere within The Kiln, surviving in the hostile and inhospitable environment. Other mysterious creatures lurk within his domain as well, a domain hidden somewhere within the bleak and grim expanses below. Though she did not explain further, for whatever reason, only one person would be capable of taking up her charge. No doubt, the answers would reveal themselves soon, including the curse which binds the quiet spiritly-witch. Only one thing was certain... Hope rides alone.
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Neth the 3rd, Oathday - 5:05 PM / AR 4732
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
District: Inner Vornheim; The Walking Mounds - The Kiln



[Fate To Be - The Pathfinders:]
[Mac Lir / Kourin Alekk Mak Esh / Therin / Xiaomiao / Sredexon]

Mar Lir's hand trembled as he reached out to the red door, and grasped the key. It was not out of fear, or even anxiety - the raw energy which pulsated from the token numbed his very hand and shook his bones. He'd heard of such portals... long ago they had been used by the strange peoples before Stallfall. Now they were artifacts, rarely seen outside of the planet of Castrovel - or so he'd heard from some old magus. This portal was hardly what he'd been expecting. It looked like a red door, perhaps to some noble's house - not an inter-dimensional gateway. It mattered little. He snatched out the key, examining it - glancing back at Naiisif's blank unsettling staring eyes... "...Perhaps it is a good thing to take it. Perhaps not. They cannot see The Gates, thus they cannot write your fate with it. But now you have put all aside, to diverge." She smiled silently, then went back to scribbling on her arms. The girl was strange and unsettling - nor did he have the slightest hint what the girl was talking about, perhaps she was just as odd as she looked... He flipped the key in his hand, examining the device. The strange item was made of a skymetal he'd never seen before, it shifted colors in the light, reflecting... He nearly dropped the key in surprise, catching it in air. it couldn't be... He looked at the reflection again. He could have sworn the red eyes of a woman peered back at him from the reflective surface - but now there was nothing. He scratched his head walking down the stairs, pocketing the item. The day had been strange. Looking at the equally strange device his allies had dug up seemed to capitalize on this - the staff was of a make he'd never seen before. The rifle seemed like it was similar to a wand or staff... or any other similar spell-storing and activated item, but it had no source from which to draw from. He recognized the name 'CORVAL' from somewhere. (DC20 Local)

Sredexon looked over the rifle, while he'd no idea what it did, or what would happen when you pulled the trigger of the loaded weapon, he did come to a sudden revelation. Looking at the roughly cut stones Therin had found, they seemed to fit the same shape as the large chamber in the side of the weapon. It was easily the strangest firearm he'd ever seen. He'd seen the Corval name before on exceptionally fine firearms carried by very select nobility. Corval wasn't any gunsmith, or craftsmen that he knew of. In fact, he knew for certain that this was the case - but as to what the origins of the weapons were was anyone's guess. (DC20 Local)

Xiaomiao felt a surge of burning heat swell within her chest, as if some energy built with a measure of intensity simply by holding the strange staff. Though she could not identify it, the strange animated black taloned hand twitched as if grasping for something. Something was designed to fit within that hand, she was sure. The weird and eldritch sigils which spiraled along the staff's length were unknowable and alien - yet, after a moment a sense of recognition flashed across her features. The strange symbols were akin to the black markings which covered Naiisif's body...

Therin gathered the various devices he'd found. They were no doubt tools someone's old tools, of some grisly trade. Looking at the potions.. if that's what you'd call them. He was completely bewildered. The strage sludgy black liquid misted with a freezing fog from their vials as if they had been stored in a refrigerated container. Condensation built upon the outside of the vials, which were freezing to the touch, almost painfully so. Whatever it was he'd found, they were no potions... He was not even certain if alchemy had made whatever the vials contained. If it would melt his insides, or transform him into some hulking frenzied creature was equally possible. yet, looking at the strange liquid, he begun to have a strange feeling that he might not want to know the answer of what he'd found. Something about the find didn't sit well with him.

Mac Lir moved to speak to his comrades, yet nothing came out. His throat constricted and a cold sweat begun to build on his brow. He'd felt this way before... right before Alastor appeared and cast him off his ship onto the crumbling Sky Landing. His instincts warned him of something, some intangible danger which loomed over him. A life of dangers had perhaps refined this strange sense. He glanced around, looking for something, a sign - until he looked above to see Naiisif leering down upon him. "...You feel it don't you? The Tapestry calls you away. Yet, I cannot return while bound, or I would guide you. Not all keys were made by the Azlanti... Some, like this, are far older. That which opens nothing shall be a bridge to The Dominion of the Black. Let it guide you to Aucturn, The Stranger. Bu-" Her words were suddenly cut short, as the world diminished within a veil of blackness...



Mar Lir's hand trembled as he reached out to the red door, and grasped the key. It was not out of fear, or even anxiety - the raw energy which pulsated from the token numbed his very hand and shook his bones. He'd heard of such portals... He blinked, looking down at the key. What in the- It was as if time skipped back, a radical pulse in time. Yet he was not in the house anymore... No, they were not in the house anymore. The wide sprawling darkness spanned out into eternity. There was no walls, nor sky. Only darkness. Naiisif's words echoed in his mind, and begun to make some semblance of sense. He was very familiar with the keys, such as this. Invaluable artifacts from another time - yet he'd seemed to have stumbled upon such a token unlike any he knew still existed. The Tapestry, no doubt referring to The Dark Tapestry (http://pathfinder.wikia.com/wiki/Dark_Tapestry), the strange an alien realms between the stars within the infinite vastness of the cosmos... Aucturn, The Stranger (http://pathfinder.wikia.com/wiki/Aucturn) had long been associated with the Dark Tapestry, said to be a world which bridged between the solar system of Golarion and the universes beyond. Strangely enough, he was moderately familiar with the weirdness of what he had now found himself caught amid. It was mostly thanks to a previous job, transporting a 1st Edition copy of a tome named 'The Aucturn Enigma'. No doubt stolen property, but he'd spent the time to read the incredibly rare item. He knew little of what scholars refered to as The Domains of the Black (http://pathfinder.wikia.com/wiki/Dominions_of_the_Black), but references to ancient Osirion texts were often mentioned within the tome and the implications of something unimaginable. Whatever this was, whatever he'd stumbled upon was not of this world - a power he knew he could not even begin to comprehend. The darkness waivered, shifted, and surrounded them with the image of the squat-brick house which they had been within before, like a flickering projection of where they had been....
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He dared not touch the key again... but perhaps it was too late. It was always too late. He felt a surge of energy creep though his arm, the arm which had grasped the key initially. He looked down upon his arm in stunned horror as his flesh begun to fracture like glass. Cracks running over his skin. Painful fissures of energy bursting out from veins of light. The cracks raced up his arm and covered his face, filling his world with searing agony - then suddenly an explosion shattered his porcelain skin sending him flying backwards through the air in a shower of flaming glass. The Pathfinders, unsure of what was unfolding dived out of the way of the translucent shrapnel. Mar Lir's body was left upon the ground, motionless. They were sure, he was dead. The pale of his bloodless skin, and un-moving chest was perhaps all the confirmation one could hope to find... It had been as if he was smitten by some intangible force from the red-door while loomed over him. Another comrade lost...

In stunned silence, he looked down upon himself, from himself. A ghost, a spirit, a haunt. A creature without substance, or voice. The world about him was blurred in a haze of shifting purple and blue hues. His body lay upon the wooden ground, soulless and cold. What had happened to him? His soul, was now cast stray... Above him, above the void of whirling hues of light, was a spanning maelstrom of churning colors - a radiant tunnel leading far away... He felt a grasp upon his shoulder. An old, warm and familiar voice sent a shiver down his spine. "Pharasma will have to wait another day for you, kid. This isn't your time just yet." With a slap on his back, he fell forward, crashing back into his body.

With a sudden violent jerking motion, Mac Lir's corpse writhed upon the ground, springing to life. The gleaming burst of light washed out from his sigil-branded hand pushing back the darkness. The door shuddered as the light ruptured forth - the walls of the world about them disintegrated like an over-exposed photograph's picture. The shimmering key snapped out from its placement within the door's lock, crashing into the captain's palm in a crushing blast of white light. A hand of pale luminescence reached down, grasping a sliver of silver light from his body, casting it out into the pale void manifesting about them. yet, all of that seemed to mean so little - he knew who's voice that had been, he was so close...


Raph'æl


ASCENSION

Advancement: DIVERGENCE (Mac Lir)


Diverge: This world you've once lived was written by the hand of some malicious force of fate. A malignant deity who seeks only to deliver you unto death. You know this now. This world has been one of suffering and adversity for an eternity before you were even conceived, but you will not submit. The threads and strings of cruelly written fate can be re-written, remade in your vision. All creatures possess a destiny fabricated by the hand of another - but you will not accept that fate issued to you. You will Diverge.

What is Divergence
Divergence is the event of initiating a fate-altering change. Diverging from your current fate will begin to create a new unknown destiny, for better or worse. Events of the world, time, objective, and quests may be changed - lost, or radically altered from their original states. The state of a negative or positive Fate can be divined by expending 1 Point of Ascension.Each Divergence is not comparable to the last, and will uniquely effect the world and the fate to be. A Divergence possesses a 'Weight', represented by the decimal score attached to the current main quest - reflecting the degree of impact it possesses upon the world. If the total combined score of acquired Divergence exceeds 0.9, the Pathfinders will Deny Fate, completely circumventing their destined fate and receive a new one. The effects of this are often extreme to the utmost degree. Terrible fates scatter the wheel of destiny, only by breaking away can you conquer fate itself.


ASCENSION POINTS GAINED: 1


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Part 1.3: Tapestry Of The Starless Abstract
Main Quest: New World Shadows
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (2) Low | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging | Diverge: (1) Astray
This world has changed... Perhaps for the worse. Something strange and terrible has been released upon the universe they thought they knew, while interfering with forces they could not hope to understand. From across The Dark Tapestry, a force has entered their world. An entity of sorrow and misery - but they cannot stop her alone. A new fate has been written for them, one written with a malicious hand to condemn them into perdition. But Raph'æl will not sit idly by while the world is brought unto ruin... There is a way. The wheels of fate begin to turn once more, but now the brave hero's must venture further then they've ever traveled before to undo the travesty of inevitable doom.

Quest (Complete): The Witch of Undercity
Raph'æl has gone into hiding. At his summons you have returned to the great city of Seven-Arrows. In search of the elusive Bechal Rossfield, Raph'æl's contemporary enemy and bitter rival - you set off in search of the faceless Witch of Undercity; Gal'bertel S'Sisery. While no one knows what S'Sisery looks like, it is no mystery as to where he dwells: Now each of you make for Romere's Tower, a heavily guarded mechanical-wonder which wandered about thickly crowded Lantern District. Possessing within it the only gate into Undercity. The Warren Trading Company closely manages all traffic in and out of the gate. Entering would prove no problem, but emerging from the city again would be another matter entirely...
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It was only Therin who did not find himself completely shaken by the violent experience of an entity permeating his very existence. No, he'd felt this already once before. The strange vision the man had given him.. Astrok'Ru. Even still, this was more traumatic, more forceful then anything he'd ever experienced. Every soul-rending claw of her agony and despair ran through them all, perpetuated by a blazing hatred which suffocated there vary living essence. He knew this feeling - he was sure without a doubt, he'd died again, perhaps they all had within the void of consuming bleakness. In the moment before he opened his small eyes again, he did not exist... Rising from the hard and broken asphalt... Asphalt? He glanced about himself. He almost couldn't believe it. They were within The Hearts, the deepest and perhaps the most inaccessible bowels of Undercity. They had gone from The Kiln to beneath Inner Vornheim. There was no sign of exactly how they had come this way. The large rectangular plaza was little more then wreckage, strange mechanical devices lay littered and destroyed all about them. A strange steel-carriage with a set of bent metal blades atop it sat next to a large moss-covered building to rust. Strange devices that appeared almost Numerian in construction littered the clearing about them. Salvagers would no doubt find this place to be a treasure trove... But there was a reason why this place was left undisturbed. Aside from the Primal Altas, living Primal Storms, which wandered the dark tunnels. Mutated creatures, poisonous gas, radiation, and even infectious disease made The Hearts inhospitable... They could all be dying this instant, and there would be no way to know. His allies around him begun to stir, rising from the vicious spiritual assault. Though it was dark, dim lights flicked from the moss-covered building from dying florescent bulbs. Someone learned against one of the cement support beams at the entrance of the building. The orange glow of a cigarette cast a minor glow upon the old man's features. He knew who it was - the rush of thoughts which swept over him were beyond counting. The silvered man grinned as he stepped under the flickering lights, applauding with a slow clap.


"Heh. Now, that was fast... You can count this old man impressed. Faster then I expected really. The judges would give that a solid, 9.5... Small deduction for not sticking the landing. I'd ask how you kids are doing, but it's fairly evident - Not so well."

"Well don't just lay their, come on inside. I could use a drink."

Raph'æl turned around, opening the squealing metal door and vanished from view.




Raph'æl Vosper

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[forg99rules]

Mac laid there for a few more seconds trying to figure out what the hell had just happened, "Dammit man you just had to take the ****ing key didn't you, me and my ****ing love of artifacts... well **** nothing else i can do about that."

Mac got up from where he was and looked around still quite confused as to how they had gotten there. Looking at the Door that Raph'ael had just walk through Mac knew just who to ask about all of this. Mac followed him through the door and once inside decided it was time for some answers.

"What the hell just happened? Like the F*ck was all that, One second I'm grabbing a key next your tossing me back into my body and then now were here. Come on man give me some answers here because right now I'm f*cking lost as to what the hell is going on and that's not even mentioning the f*cking music box that Warren wanted me to deliver for him."

Mac reached into his pocket for the music box only to realize that is wasn't there, "Well Sh*t looks like i don't even have that damned box anymore."

[BizzaroStormy]

Out of the pan and into the fire...then into the very depths of of the stove as he knew it. The mental rollercoaster shook Stredexon out of the semi-relaxed state he had been in since the group boarded the building barge. He was no stranger to seeing people around him die, especially when odd magical relic were involved. He dropped his new weapon into his satchel and started to move to check the sky captain's body when it suddenly moved. It was entirely different so see someone suddenly spring back to life without having a wooden stake pulled out of their chest. He instinctively brought his trusted rifle to bear as the world around them appeared to fall apart.

His body shook violently as he took short steps backward, several times his aim suddenly jerked to another direction, hoping to catch a glimpse of something, anything to focus on something to train his weapon on and give him some semblance of control on what was going on. His breathing became heavy as though he'd just run a marathon while he tried to make sense of the strange vision, as well as their sudden new surroundings. It wasn't until he heard that voice....

Suddenly, his breath came to a halt, the trembling ceased, the hairs on the back of his neck became erect as he spun to sight the figure in the doorway. His aim snapped to the center mass of the figure as his eyes adjusted to the new light. Once he finally realized who he was threatening with long-distance heart surgery, it was like the weight of the days events was lifted for a brief moment. His breath returned, the muzzle of his rifle fell downward, and his body relaxed out of the somewhat crouched stance he'd gotten himself into. He was far from alright, but seeing a familiar friendly face definitely helped. It took the gunman a couple more seconds to properly compose himself before following Raphael through the creaky doorway.

[Triskavanski]

Therin blinked as he began to come to. He did it again.. He died? To what? What is this? Who is this? His mind swarmed with questions, staggering him for a little while as he began to answer off a number of them with his own knowledge and knowing of the world. Glancing up he glared Raph'æl Vosper. Why was he here? What was here? The hearts? By the goatfaced lamb! "Wot in the bloody blue blazes is gahn on 'ere, then, guv? I'm just mindin' me own business tryin' ter create some potions and suddenly there is a man runnin' frough bullets and uvver attempts ter put 'im dahn, regeneratin' after each of the bloomin' blows, I'm bloody well chased off, and go runnin' wiv aid of some bloke 'oo died wen a demon fin' just starts gahn frough cleavin' buildings in 'alf wiv 'is bloody bigass sword of doom, and I'm bloody well pretty sure 'e killed me once! Honest guv! Then anuvver of us gets cursed as we all find we 'ave this markin' fin', Anuvver disappears and we cop on a floatin' island fin' where suddenly we do sumfink.. Agh! PAIN! SO MUCH PAIN!" he flails his arms for a moment gritting his teeth, before letting out one more Argh and flopping backwards but only for a moment. He springs to his feat and quickly begins to follow after that "Well if yer can use a drink after the chuffin' day I've 'ad I can use free! Right!"

[Felyndiira]

"Sifu?"

She thought she was hallucinating because of the curse. She remembered rushing up the stairs in a panic as she heard the captain scream, almost forgetting the physical drain of her own curse. She felt so broken and helpless when Mac suddenly died - though she did partially blame him for the destruction of the city, he was a precious elder brother of Raph'el's disciples, and it was almost an obligation for her to protect him. To at least try to protect him.

Then, he suddenly moved, and everything became black.

Xiaomiao was not used to any of this; even in her missions, being cursed outright was a rare experience for her. Suddenly seeing cities vanish, an arch-demon running rampant in a bedlam of destruction chasing after a music box, curses that come from nowhere and defy all mental resistance - before this night, she would have dismissed all of this as mere play-stories from a martial arts epic. Things that are too fantastical to happen in real life, even in a world with dragons and magic all around her.

"Sifu?" she repeated, as if not even sure of her own sight. She weakly rubbed her eyes a bit - finding that the staff still remained with her even as she was somehow transported to this strange place. Perhaps if she had been a bit more knowledgable about the place, she would have recognized Inner Vornheim for what it is - but she rarely ever needed to come here. Her jobs never took her to this place, nor was she inclined to wander this far into the underbellies of the city. Of his city. "Sifu," she whispered, as if to reassure herself that she was, in fact, not standing in a dream world conjured by herself.

She pinched herself once, just to make sure that this is true.

"We've been..." she started to say something, but was interrupted by the voices of her companions ringing from all directions. She paused and looked at each one of them, studying the confusion and annoyance on their faces. Then, she slowly began to lean on her staff to support her, and held the appearance of a girl who was finally taking a break from the insanity of the world. For a moment, she simply allowed the actions of her companions to guide her, and offered not another word as if in a trance. To think...

Suddenly, she spoke again, this time with a resolute voice triumphing over that of her companions - in a somber tone that seemed almost uncharacteristic of her normally carefree personality. "Sifu. I've been looking for you. Please pardon our rudeness - I'm sure you are aware that we all have quite a few questions for you, especially after what we had seen in Seven Arrows. To recount, it started with the delivery of some mysterious demonic box..." The girl purposely omitted Mac Lir's name, though she shot a pensive glance at him before continuing with her explanation. "...and ended with the destruction of practically the entire High-Castle, me getting a death curse, and whatever happened afterwords that teleported us to your place."

"Speaking of curses, do you happen to know anything about this staff? Or this symbol?" She held up the staff that she found along with the sigil on her right hand, as if they are somehow related. "Don't say anything about the symbol," she added to her companions through Alekk's psychic link; her mind flashed with the last few words in that black letter from days ago:

"Trust no one but those who bear this sigil."

[Mornings]

Part 1.3: Tapestry Of The Starless Abstract
Main Quest: New World Shadows
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (2) Low | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging | Diverge: (1) Astray
This world has changed... Perhaps for the worse. Something strange and terrible has been released upon the universe they thought they knew, while interfering with forces they could not hope to understand. From across The Dark Tapestry, a force has entered their world. An entity of sorrow and misery - but they cannot stop her alone. A new fate has been written for them, one written with a malicious hand to condemn them into perdition. But Raph'æl will not sit idly by while the world is brought unto ruin... There is a way. The wheels of fate begin to turn once more, but now the brave hero's must venture further then they've ever traveled before to undo the travesty of inevitable doom.

Main Quest: Paradise (ICONIC)(DIVERGENT)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (4) Vast | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging | Diverge: (1) Astray
Cayden is not an easy man to deal with. A liar. Criminal. Convict. Murderer. Pirate... He is a man who speaks one word while meaning another, weaving deceptive veils to befuddle his enemies. Yet, for perhaps the first time to any not of his crew, he's spoken the truth. The incomprehensible revelation shatters the former perceptions of stability the Pathfinders once possessed. Raph'æl could show them how to move forward, but he could show them how to move back. The terrors they had released from his home now threatened to doom this world to ruin. There were now many options before them - but the Sky Pirate simply offered a choice.
Quest (Complete): The Witch of Undercity
Raph'æl has gone into hiding. At his summons you have returned to the great city of Seven-Arrows. In search of the elusive Bechal Rossfield, Raph'æl's contemporary enemy and bitter rival - you set off in search of the faceless Witch of Undercity; Gal'bertel S'Sisery. While no one knows what S'Sisery looks like, it is no mystery as to where he dwells: Now each of you make for Romere's Tower, a heavily guarded mechanical-wonder which wandered about thickly crowded Lantern District. Possessing within it the only gate into Undercity. The Warren Trading Company closely manages all traffic in and out of the gate. Entering would prove no problem, but emerging from the city again would be another matter entirely...Lamashan the 28th, Toilday - 2:55 AM / AR 4731
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
UnderCity; The Hearts - [Unknown Sector]


http://i.imgur.com/ZQImo71.jpg


[Reunion Below - The Pathfinders:]
[Mac Lir / Kourin Alekk Mak Esh / Therin / Xiaomiao / Sredexon]



(ABANDONED) Side Quest | ACT II: Crying Wild Bullet (Mythic)
Difficulty: (5) Extreme | Reward: (6) Unearthly | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
....The world they had known as has changed. The alterations within the streams of causality have left The Black Brand removed from Mac Lir's possession. All the work, sacrifice and suffering will be for not, unless the box is reclaimed. Only 'she' knows where within the past it has fallen.

(DISCOVERED) Side Quest | Hope Rides Alone (Solo) (Iconic)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (0) Minimal | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
Some manner of curse binds the strange woman known as 'The Abstract'. A curse of a nature and origin muddled in questions. However, the solution has been presented by the girl. A man, or beast, known only as Bloody Wolf lurks somewhere within The Kiln, surviving in the hostile and inhospitable environment. Other mysterious creatures lurk within his domain as well, a domain hidden somewhere within the bleak and grim expanses below. Though she did not explain further, for whatever reason, only one person would be capable of taking up her charge. No doubt, the answers would reveal themselves soon, including the curse which binds the quiet spiritly-witch. Only one thing was certain... Hope rides alone.

The walked across the strange clearing of painted asphalt streets. The pitch black of the lightless world was held at bay by the glow of the electric lights, which blinked and buzzed awkwardly. Vosper had already found himself a comfortable broken seat, a large overstuffed chair and a bottle of strange alcohol - a vodka of some sort of a make none of them could recognize. The unusual tin cap and screw-on top was a farcry from the simple cork and wax-sealed bottles of the world above. "Easy... take it easy, kids. You've all the answers under one roof. A rare commodity in this world." He pulled out a cigarette and a lighter. Lighters were rare and expensive commodities sometimes found in Numeria, but this was was even strange in that regard, producing a blue torch-like flame and lighting the thin stick of tobacco. He chuckled at Mar Lir, "Heh, a little birdie told me you'd found my box. Was a good effort son, but there's a lot more after that little thing then you even realize. I gave it to Corval to keep an eye on, not that it will do much use in the hands of the average soul. I wouldn't really fret about who gets their mitts on it - won't do them much good anyways..." He took a swig from the bottle. Mac Lir and Sredexon suddenly had a recollection at the mention of the name.


The Corval were once a prominent name in years long past. While the house originated from Ustalav they became wide spread in their activities during the early 4600's. The family, many generations old, were a powerful house of witches and sorcerers of infernal blood. During the earliest days of the house some seven centuries previous, the name was feared for the power and wickedness they possessed - yet over the course of many generations, the name became a respected signature. Famous Witch-Inquisitors, which hunted their own kind who abused their abilities and powers. Of the many great achievements they experienced before their inevitable decline after the rise of The Altruistic Watch, the brightest daughter of Eldin Corval, Hilda, created a great many contraptions and unusual creations which she employed to compensate for her lack of natural ability. Her inventions quickly rivaled the reputation of the hunters becoming one of the premier names in custom arms during the last century. However, tragedy befell the Corval's with Hilda's death during her famous hunt of Effal of Nine-Talons. Though the witch had been destroyed in the battle, the young huntress had suffered a mortal and cursed wound - thus singnaling the end of the Corval legend, as they quietly vanished from recognition. Though it has been close to a hundred and fifty years, Eldin still lives. Having quietly retired in Magnimar - the once-legendary alchemist has been said to have found the secret to immortality, a failed effort to return his daughter to life. Now Corval weapons are prized as strange and unusual ancient weapons. They are sometimes dug up from forgotten manors and cellars where their owners had hidden them. The weapons come in almost any shape and size, rarely with any true similarities between the two having each been a unique experiment or tool during the days of its creation.


Raph'æl waved a hand dismissively in the dim room, barely illuminated by the light creeping in from the broken window. "Yeah, I guess you're still a little shaken up about the weird vision business, but we'll circle back to that..." He looked at Xiaomiao with a grin. "Good to see you too, sweatie. Heh, but for starters... we might want to start with the date. Today is Toilday, 28th of Lamashan, AR 4731. All of.... that. It hasn't happened yet. The girl's curse is rendered inert as well, so that's no longer an issue. As for the stylish little doo-dads on your mitts. Well... That's another story." He took another long swig, clicking his tongue at the kick of the liquor. "We don't have all day, so i'll give you the abridged version. When myself and Acavna stopped the Starstone, fragments of our power ended up in, proverbial shards of magic. Unfortunately, for lack of better words, we died - well, not physically, but spiritually rather. It took Nethys the better part of six millennium to put my sorry ass back together again. Fortunately, the magic which was essentially my existence still remained. After returning, I reclaimed the shards of power which the Earthfall incident created. What remained was useless to me, but not without potential. The fates had already chosen you to stand against the evil to come, I simply now had something to contribute. A weapon. So I made those little things with the help of an old friend. They're called Yah Tz'orm." He rolled his neck to the side leisurely with a cracking sound, then taking the cigerrette out from his mouth and tapped the ash on the floor. "I wouldn't go showing it around to anyone. As far as the world is concerned the only god left with Azlant magic still to her name is Lissala. You wouldn't want people to think you're a Runelord cultist or something, now would you? Heh." He pointed at Xiao's staff with the burning smoking stick. "That's one of the girl's inventions. Think it was something like a portable... Uh, magic-reverser-protection-bubble... thing. Think it worked pretty well, but it just required a lot of juice. It effected more then just magic, mortals with a fondness for sorcery were as good as barehanded farmers around that thing. Nifty..." He chuckled to himself at the last bit while pulling himself out of the reclining chair. He shuffled over to the wall, looking down at a simple wall-mounted gas heater, turning the dial abit then giving it a firm kick as it sprung to life with a broken rattling sound. "I don't expect you kids to know everything, but it wouldn't kill you to read a book or two." He pat Therin on the head. "..And you should know by now you're playing with some heavy hitters and powerful names." He kicked the heater again as it finally starting producing warmth within the room. "Hah... Well, in any case. I'll keep it simple for you. Each of you, now blessed by a shard of divinity, is no longer bound by the fates. Each, uh... Lets call them 'World Lines', has an ultimate destiny planned for you and the world. But that plan can now be changed, altered, and even negated by you kids. Think of it like a story the writer is writing, but sometimes, things he didn't write appear. That's where you come in. You bunch, can interact with those things which shouldn't exist. When you do, the fate associated with it is in turn manifest within the new paths of causality. It can change everything you thought you knew. In your case, you actually had a pretty rough immediate future, some of you might have died. However, the fate of the world in general wasn't in any sort of predicament. Interacting with the gate, which shouldn't have existed in that place caused this... Divergence of Fate. Diverging into a new World Line isn't necessarily good to bring a good fate or bad fate, or even a major change. But it often can, and will, depending on the severity of what you're screwing with... Now as for what you're dealing with right now. Well, that's between you - and That Man." He banged his fist on the wall and shouted while he flopped back in his chair. "Cayden! Get your ass out here."

The lean, black haired man pushed through the door on the far side of the room. His face was a perpetual glower, but that didn't detract from his masculine and handsome features. His cloths were strange, made out of fabrics alien to the world they knew. Srtedexon knew the man the moment he saw him. There wasn't a gunman worth his salt that didn't recognize the deadeye ace; The so called 'Demon Eye', the Sky Pirate Cayden Paradise. He looked, younger, but still held the same cold glint in his eyes. The man had been a Sparrow once, during his days as a young-man. He out gunned his peers with effortless grace, striking targets not even visible to the eye. It'd been rumored the man had made a demonic pact for his supernatural gifts, and simply couldn't miss his target. Whatever the case, the legend of his blackpowder bravado was far surpassed by his brutality as a privateer.

Mac Lir recognized the man, but it was not the Captain Paradise he knew. The scar was gone, the long hair and squinting scowl. He didn't look even half as vicious and bloodthirsty as he did in his memory. He knew the man for more then just a short year... Even counting the disparity in time, this was a different man in a different world. They were not in the world he remembered.

Captain Paradise leaned on the wall with a pretentious grin on his face. "Not what you were expecting, Captain? These things have a way of changing things. Heh, and now I hear you and your sorry lot have had a brush with July? That's what we called her. If you want to know about what it was you've so clumsily stumbled into, first you'll have to learn about my home. A planet across The Dark Tapestry, called Earth. July lived the the end of the second World War. The most bloody conflict in the history of mankind, an event that concluded while I was very young. Some 22 years later, the truth of our eventual executioner would become known. July would destroy my world over and over, regardless how many times I tried to change it. I crossed The Tapestry looking for answers, but now you've brought her here, condemning your world to oblivion. Vosper seems to think you're the solution to this problem. So I think you're the solution to this problem." Vosper interjected.
"However! It must also be carefully considered before you start trying to fix anything, what you can do now. The struggle and adversity that had once existed has been removed - replaced with imminent omnicide... but that doesn't mean you can't make the most of it. July stole your box Mac, she cast that crap back somewhere into the past. If you're hell bent on getting it back, Cayden is the right time-traveler for the job. But, we've got a number of considerably more... or, I suppose, equally important issues aside from just that going on. You're going to have to make the judgement call on where to proceed, but you're potentially in a good position within this world, as far as your immediate future is concerned. Knowing when to bail from your current World Line is going to get you through the day when things get hairy out there." - "You can alter fate... and I can alter time. I'd say together we stand a fare chance of besting this mad dog. But now you must decide, will you remain? Got forward? Or back? Regardless of your decision, I can only move us through this World Line. Only you strange lot can alter the fates, and diverge from it. "




[LEVEL UP]
THE PATHFINDERS ADVANCE 1 LEVEL








Cayden Paradise (ICONIC)

http://i.imgur.com/A0ojNQt.jpg

[Felyndiira]

Xiaomiao listened intently; it was difficult to tell whether she was paying more attention to the man's words or the man himself, but her expression gradually softened as Vosper began to speak. Faintly, her countenance lost all of its caution. In truth, she still could not fully accept what had happened in this short span of time - understand, yes, but 'fate' was a philosophy that she could not accept, even if spoken by Raph'el himself. She remained silent when her sifu told his version of the cosmic story - as a girl would silently listen to a father's bedtime story - and even when he finished, she didn't really care that much about changing fate or hearing of whether the big bad wolf died or became friends with the third little pig.

But there was something she was interested in. Something that wanted to do.

Without another word, she tossed the treasured staff aside and rushed forward. Disregarding any formality or embarrassment at her actions, the girl buried her head in her sifu's chest, clasping her arms around him as if embracing a long-lost parent. "I'm glad to see you again, sifu," she whispered. "You're really sifu, yes? Not a ghost or spirit coming to take me to the afterlife? Ah, I'm sorry that I haven't been diligent enough in my search for you. But I was worried when you suddenly disappeared from the world, and when no one could find you, and you didn't even tell us where you were. I really am," Her eyes briefly scanned each of her companions before she continued, her head still buried in Raph'el chest while her speech became more slurred. "We all were, I think."

"Please, let me be for a bit," she added, still clinging on to her mentor like a grade-school girl.

[BizzaroStormy]

Stredexon lets out a sigh of relief and finds himself something comfortable to plop down on while he listens to Vosper tell his tale. It was nice to finally get an explanation of what was going on, despite the fact that it raised more questions than it answered. By the end of the story though, he has a set of hungry eyes set on the old man's bottle, but he is suddenly concerned when he brings up the name Corval. "Thought that name sounded familiar, found one of his creations a little while ago...or I didn't yet...did I?" There's a notable amount of confusion in his voice as he looks into his pack for the rifle. He continues to ask his questions as he digs.


"So what you're telling us, is that we can somehow ignore fate...and by extension that fate is an actual force rather than a theory. How did we get here...or is it 'now'? Cayden's work? Oh! And you..." he says as he casts a glance over at the frankly disappointing 'legendary' gunman. "What exactly is this 'July'? And how is it that you can move through time?"

[Mornings]

Part 1.3: Tapestry Of The Starless Abstract
Main Quest: New World Shadows
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (2) Low | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging | Diverge: (1) Astray
This world has changed... Perhaps for the worse. Something strange and terrible has been released upon the universe they thought they knew, while interfering with forces they could not hope to understand. From across The Dark Tapestry, a force has entered their world. An entity of sorrow and misery - but they cannot stop her alone. A new fate has been written for them, one written with a malicious hand to condemn them into perdition. But Raph'æl will not sit idly by while the world is brought unto ruin... There is a way. The wheels of fate begin to turn once more, but now the brave hero's must venture further then they've ever traveled before to undo the travesty of inevitable doom.

Main Quest: Paradise (ICONIC)(DIVERGENT)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (4) Vast | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging | Diverge: (1) Astray
Cayden is not an easy man to deal with. A liar. Criminal. Convict. Murderer. Pirate... He is a man who speaks one word while meaning another, weaving deceptive veils to befuddle his enemies. Yet, for perhaps the first time to any not of his crew, he's spoken the truth. The incomprehensible revelation shatters the former perceptions of stability the Pathfinders once possessed. Raph'æl could show them how to move forward, but he could show them how to move back. The terrors they had released from his home now threatened to doom this world to ruin. There were now many options before them - but the Sky Pirate simply offered a choice.
Quest (Complete): The Witch of Undercity
Raph'æl has gone into hiding. At his summons you have returned to the great city of Seven-Arrows. In search of the elusive Bechal Rossfield, Raph'æl's contemporary enemy and bitter rival - you set off in search of the faceless Witch of Undercity; Gal'bertel S'Sisery. While no one knows what S'Sisery looks like, it is no mystery as to where he dwells: Now each of you make for Romere's Tower, a heavily guarded mechanical-wonder which wandered about thickly crowded Lantern District. Possessing within it the only gate into Undercity. The Warren Trading Company closely manages all traffic in and out of the gate. Entering would prove no problem, but emerging from the city again would be another matter entirely...Lamashan the 28th, Toilday - 2:55 AM / AR 4731
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
UnderCity; The Hearts - [Unknown Sector]


http://i.imgur.com/ZQImo71.jpg


[Reunion Below - The Pathfinders:]
[Mac Lir / Kourin Alekk Mak Esh / Therin / Xiaomiao / Sredexon]



(ABANDONED) Side Quest | ACT II: Crying Wild Bullet (Mythic)
Difficulty: (5) Extreme | Reward: (6) Unearthly | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
....The world they had known as has changed. The alterations within the streams of causality have left The Black Brand removed from Mac Lir's possession. All the work, sacrifice and suffering will be for not, unless the box is reclaimed. Only 'she' knows where within the past it has fallen.

(DISCOVERED) Side Quest | Hope Rides Alone (Solo) (Iconic)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (0) Minimal | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
Some manner of curse binds the strange woman known as 'The Abstract'. A curse of a nature and origin muddled in questions. However, the solution has been presented by the girl. A man, or beast, known only as Bloody Wolf lurks somewhere within The Kiln, surviving in the hostile and inhospitable environment. Other mysterious creatures lurk within his domain as well, a domain hidden somewhere within the bleak and grim expanses below. Though she did not explain further, for whatever reason, only one person would be capable of taking up her charge. No doubt, the answers would reveal themselves soon, including the curse which binds the quiet spiritly-witch. Only one thing was certain... Hope rides alone.

Paradise crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, a blank and un-amused expression across his face. His head didn't move, but his eyes rolled over to Stredexon as if he were being addressed by some soft-headed child with a stutter in his speech. "I'm a god." The words were spoken so flatly and without a hint of enthusiasm. It was obviously a lie. It had to be? Right? Honestly, it was very difficult to tell - and with all they'd experienced within the last few hours. It wasn't the most insane thing they had heard. Vosper laughed, tossing a bottle at Dexon. "Son, you don't even know how you got here. Better to cross that bridge when we get to it..."

He pat Xiao on the head as he took another drink. "July - Was, a person. A normal girl from across The Dark Tapestry. I doubt you've gotten a chance to travel North have ya, kid? If you go as North as North goes, you'll pass the Kodar Mountains and step into Irrisen at The Crown of The World. It was once part of The Land of The Linnorm Kings. Long ago, The Queen of Witches, Baba Yaga invaded Golarion from across The Tapestry. In AR 3313, she begun The Winter War (http://pathfinderwiki.com/wiki/Winter_War). This isn't just some crumby history lesson from an old man. Baba Yaga was from Earth, like the kid here. While you kids have never looked the truth in the eye. That planet has been intertwined with ours for millennia past. Golarion has been defined by the influence of other strange planets across The Great Beyond from the beginning. It has built and defined our nations. Our peoples. Our history. The relics dug up from ruins, and even the skymetal used to forge your weapons are not natural to this planet." He shook his head with a chuckle. "Heh. If you really think adamantine is from this planet, while Numerian's peel it off the broken hulls of ships and dig up broken remains to smelt down... Then you're much more naive then I've cared to admit, and I need to put your silly ass back in school."

His hand pat around on a dusty old table looking for something, until it finally touched a book. He slid it off the table then tossed it over to Therin. "You've gotten a glimpse of The Other Side, kid. You've seen more then the others. It changed you. At a price that will forever diminish your existence, and weaken your ability to resist the influence of fate. However, you can see things now. You can tap into those forces which diverge with the current world." He looked back to Dexon. "Fate is not a theory. But it's more then a force - It's a design. A design for the universe and how all its threads connect. It is not a universal law, it is a transient awareness which permeates existence to define how it will be. It does not influence it creates. The very breath of probability set into motion to achieve that result which most favors the state which lets it exist. Yet, it is not all-inclusive. It changes with each World Line transitioned, the multiverse constructed of a near infinite series of Grand Designs. This factor does not micromanage every single aspect of every life, nor determine the success or failure of every coin flip you make. It simply weights the scales of all within the universe to pull towards the pre-defined cosmic events which will shape the streams of causality. If you will live or die in battle, or if you slip on the ledge are still things you still control. It is as the pull of the sun. You are simply too small to be drawn to it's light - but the world you live upon draws you close to it still. If the world is consumed by it, then you will die as well. But your days spent upon its surface only reflect its indirect influence upon the combined scope of your life. Inevitably, if the planet has been set by the hands of fate to burn by the sun which gives it life - then all will burn with it. This is called Calamity." His face grew dark as he pet the girl's head. "Calamity is a force. A destined ill fated event, much like any event determined to pass and defined by fate. But these are terrible and destructive forces, often phasing in and out of a World Line's destined path. They are the most destructive forces which have yet come to exist." He pulled the cigarette from his lips and flicked it into a tin trashcan. "Now, with that information. I can answer your question. July - is a Calamity. She will destroy all life within our solar system then cease to be. Simply because it is the fate you have introduced to this world. Nothing more. This is perhaps the most favorable World Line to be, but it's grim fate will not allow it to last very long. Perhaps you could change fate for this world, or even defeat July.... But that decision is yours to make."

[BizzaroStormy]

"A god huh?"Stredexson takes a couple deep swigs from the bottle before tossing it back to Vosper, he shudders a bit before coughing not used to the rather acrid taste of the drink. "Wanting us to go on some crusade to save our world...er, solar system. And because of these Yah Tz'rom...we're the only ones suited for the job. You must've tried a hell of a lot if we're the next on the list of options. The five of us barely made it down here in one piece, heck if that skull bastard wasn't totally off his gourd, i'd probably be a pile of sludge in the street right now." He laughs a little "Anyway its not like we're going to tell you to shove off. Even if it weren't for the fact that my home is on the table, you've helped me along quite a bit since my sandpoint days. I suppose the main question is 'Where do we start?' "

[Mornings]

Part 1.3: Tapestry Of The Starless Abstract
Main Quest: New World Shadows
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (2) Low | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging | Diverge: (1) Astray
This world has changed... Perhaps for the worse. Something strange and terrible has been released upon the universe they thought they knew, while interfering with forces they could not hope to understand. From across The Dark Tapestry, a force has entered their world. An entity of sorrow and misery - but they cannot stop her alone. A new fate has been written for them, one written with a malicious hand to condemn them into perdition. But Raph'æl will not sit idly by while the world is brought unto ruin... There is a way. The wheels of fate begin to turn once more, but now the brave hero's must venture further then they've ever traveled before to undo the travesty of inevitable doom.

Main Quest: Paradise (ICONIC)(DIVERGENT)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (4) Vast | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging | Diverge: (1) Astray
Cayden is not an easy man to deal with. A liar. Criminal. Convict. Murderer. Pirate... He is a man who speaks one word while meaning another, weaving deceptive veils to befuddle his enemies. Yet, for perhaps the first time to any not of his crew, he's spoken the truth. The incomprehensible revelation shatters the former perceptions of stability the Pathfinders once possessed. Raph'æl could show them how to move forward, but he could show them how to move back. The terrors they had released from his home now threatened to doom this world to ruin. There were now many options before them - but the Sky Pirate simply offered a choice.
Quest (Complete): The Witch of Undercity
Raph'æl has gone into hiding. At his summons you have returned to the great city of Seven-Arrows. In search of the elusive Bechal Rossfield, Raph'æl's contemporary enemy and bitter rival - you set off in search of the faceless Witch of Undercity; Gal'bertel S'Sisery. While no one knows what S'Sisery looks like, it is no mystery as to where he dwells: Now each of you make for Romere's Tower, a heavily guarded mechanical-wonder which wandered about thickly crowded Lantern District. Possessing within it the only gate into Undercity. The Warren Trading Company closely manages all traffic in and out of the gate. Entering would prove no problem, but emerging from the city again would be another matter entirely...Lamashan the 28th, Toilday - 2:55 AM / AR 4731
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
UnderCity; The Hearts - [Unknown Sector]


http://i.imgur.com/ZQImo71.jpg


[Reunion Below - The Pathfinders:]
[Mac Lir / Kourin Alekk Mak Esh / Therin / Xiaomiao / Sredexon]



(ABANDONED) Side Quest | ACT II: Crying Wild Bullet (Mythic)
Difficulty: (5) Extreme | Reward: (6) Unearthly | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
....The world they had known as has changed. The alterations within the streams of causality have left The Black Brand removed from Mac Lir's possession. All the work, sacrifice and suffering will be for not, unless the box is reclaimed. Only 'she' knows where within the past it has fallen.

(DISCOVERED) Side Quest | Hope Rides Alone (Solo) (Iconic)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (0) Minimal | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
Some manner of curse binds the strange woman known as 'The Abstract'. A curse of a nature and origin muddled in questions. However, the solution has been presented by the girl. A man, or beast, known only as Bloody Wolf lurks somewhere within The Kiln, surviving in the hostile and inhospitable environment. Other mysterious creatures lurk within his domain as well, a domain hidden somewhere within the bleak and grim expanses below. Though she did not explain further, for whatever reason, only one person would be capable of taking up her charge. No doubt, the answers would reveal themselves soon, including the curse which binds the quiet spiritly-witch. Only one thing was certain... Hope rides alone.

Vosper chuckled as he caught the bottle and put his arm around the woman who still clinged to him. "Your call, kid. You got destiny-shattering powers and a time altering kid from across The Beyond under one roof. July is his problem. I didn't cal you here for that, or give you those fancy seals for dealing with some Calamity. Remember, you got that letter before any of this even happened. We got bigger fish to fry." He pointed at Therin with his free hand then dug around in his vest for another smoke. "Furry-Frank, has the one-up on this one. Heh." He stuffed the cig in his mouth, forgoing the lighter and flicking the end which spontaneously combusted in a flash of green flame. "...A Calamity is a thing, sure. But gods know how many of those I've dealt with myself while you've been playing in the sand. One World Line with a Calamity is a nuisance - but having no World Lines left, is another matter entirely. You can go with the kid and deal with July and get that all settled. Or you can get on with the main event.... The short of it is, there's a little trouble in a place called The Lost Coast. Something happened. Something bad." He blew out a circle of smoke. "The implications are no doubt lost on you. But this isn't a matter of having a back up plan, or even picking and choosing options. You don't get it, probably because you fell asleep in during your lessons on Thassilonion history. But those fancy seals are the remaining fragments of my divinity after I stopped The Starstone from ending this world." Cayden ran his palm down his face as if he were trying to resist throttling someone. "He's Amaznen, you dunce. The Dead God, who shattered The Starstone and saved Golarion. You've the shards of his godhood within your hand. Now you're the only ones who can fight in his place."

Vosper shrugged. "Heh. More-or-less..." He looked at Mac Lir, "July threw your precious little box somewhere back in time. She probably dreaded the thought of someone else employing The Song of Extinction, again. You can go back and reclaim it, but the box won't do you much good anyways, unless you just want to finish that job." He gestured back to Therin as he looked to Stredexon "He, and the less-then-pleasant Sky Pirate are pretty much your way forward in either case. But if you want to tackle the big task... I recomend you gather all the allies you can. That journey will take you far, to a place that doesn't exist yet. A small town called Swallowfeld. It's there you'll need to find my son and daughter. Then maybe you'll have a chance when you face The Pale Lady." Therin recognized the name from his vision. The man, Astrok'Ru had spoken it, through his consciousness. He could only be left to wonder just how much had changed within him.

[Triskavanski]

Therin sighed, shaking his head before finding a place to sit down, shaking his head. Tall-folk were almost always like this, huge monstrous men of muscle who could live multiple generations, like they were immortal. Of course Therin did know that of the more immortal races to his kind, humans were on the low end, about three to four generations of ratfolk. Elves of course where some of the ones on the higher end living thousands of generations of ratfolk.

And the ones that pursued magic always tried to live even longer than that. "Aye, right, ya all are 'eavy 'itters, I'm just a lone wee alchemist" He paused for a moment before shaking his head. "I'm gonna need ter find a way ter make some sort of big badda boom. Peraps some sort alchemical black 'ole?" Even as weak as he was, he was not one to just wallow after all. If boom doesn't work, Get bigger boom. Get Some Woosh. Or Pizow! He was after all, a incessant tinkerer

Flattening his ears as he's called Furry-Frank "Oi! Its Therin. Therin Dasher. Master of alchemy. Not that wee fancy stuff that some alchemists do where they pour a bit of their magic into it.. The real stuff. Don't blow up wen yer take it into wonk zones."

After that, he sits quitely listening until Vosper was done talking, then blinks glancing up. "Oi now wait a mument! Oi! Wotcher mean I'm bloody well the bleedin' way forward, isit?And 'oo is the Pale Lady, isit?Some bloke else said sumfink about 'er earlier. She's not scary right?"

[Mornings]

Part 1.3: Tapestry Of The Starless Abstract
Main Quest: New World Shadows
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (2) Low | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging | Diverge: (1) Astray
This world has changed... Perhaps for the worse. Something strange and terrible has been released upon the universe they thought they knew, while interfering with forces they could not hope to understand. From across The Dark Tapestry, a force has entered their world. An entity of sorrow and misery - but they cannot stop her alone. A new fate has been written for them, one written with a malicious hand to condemn them into perdition. But Raph'æl will not sit idly by while the world is brought unto ruin... There is a way. The wheels of fate begin to turn once more, but now the brave hero's must venture further then they've ever traveled before to undo the travesty of inevitable doom.

Main Quest: Paradise (ICONIC)(DIVERGENT)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (4) Vast | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging | Diverge: (1) Astray
Cayden is not an easy man to deal with. A liar. Criminal. Convict. Murderer. Pirate... He is a man who speaks one word while meaning another, weaving deceptive veils to befuddle his enemies. Yet, for perhaps the first time to any not of his crew, he's spoken the truth. The incomprehensible revelation shatters the former perceptions of stability the Pathfinders once possessed. Raph'æl could show them how to move forward, but he could show them how to move back. The terrors they had released from his home now threatened to doom this world to ruin. There were now many options before them - but the Sky Pirate simply offered a choice.
Quest (Complete): The Witch of Undercity
Raph'æl has gone into hiding. At his summons you have returned to the great city of Seven-Arrows. In search of the elusive Bechal Rossfield, Raph'æl's contemporary enemy and bitter rival - you set off in search of the faceless Witch of Undercity; Gal'bertel S'Sisery. While no one knows what S'Sisery looks like, it is no mystery as to where he dwells: Now each of you make for Romere's Tower, a heavily guarded mechanical-wonder which wandered about thickly crowded Lantern District. Possessing within it the only gate into Undercity. The Warren Trading Company closely manages all traffic in and out of the gate. Entering would prove no problem, but emerging from the city again would be another matter entirely...Lamashan the 28th, Toilday - 2:55 AM / AR 4731
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
UnderCity; The Hearts - [Unknown Sector]


http://i.imgur.com/ZQImo71.jpg


[Reunion Below - The Pathfinders:]
[Mac Lir / Kourin Alekk Mak Esh / Therin / Xiaomiao / Sredexon]



(ABANDONED) Side Quest | ACT II: Crying Wild Bullet (Mythic)
Difficulty: (5) Extreme | Reward: (6) Unearthly | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
....The world they had known as has changed. The alterations within the streams of causality have left The Black Brand removed from Mac Lir's possession. All the work, sacrifice and suffering will be for not, unless the box is reclaimed. Only 'she' knows where within the past it has fallen.

(DISCOVERED) Side Quest | Hope Rides Alone (Solo) (Iconic)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (0) Minimal | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
Some manner of curse binds the strange woman known as 'The Abstract'. A curse of a nature and origin muddled in questions. However, the solution has been presented by the girl. A man, or beast, known only as Bloody Wolf lurks somewhere within The Kiln, surviving in the hostile and inhospitable environment. Other mysterious creatures lurk within his domain as well, a domain hidden somewhere within the bleak and grim expanses below. Though she did not explain further, for whatever reason, only one person would be capable of taking up her charge. No doubt, the answers would reveal themselves soon, including the curse which binds the quiet spiritly-witch. Only one thing was certain... Hope rides alone.

The old man looked at Therin with a straight face. The familiar smirk far removed from his features. "Kid. She's the baddest of the bad. Quite possibly the most frightening thing lurking within the multiverse at this point in time. Something worse will always come up to rear its ugly head. But right now, worse, is her. She's one of The Eldest, a Fey God of the Unseelie. The Unseelie, or The Court of Winter are the Dark Fey. Creatures of death and decay - dark twins of their brothers and sisters of the Seelie, The Summer Court. There is no 'evil' within the natural orders of the Fey Courts. But The Pale Lady is being influenced by dark and terrible forces from across The Great Beyond. The last of my shard of divinity had been claimed by her. Adding a significant fraction of my own godhood to one who already existed as a deity... Not even Aroden himself could stop her now. It's left to you to raise up, achieving divinity yourselves and stopping her - if you can. Even with the lot of you, it may still be nearly impossible without my combined might. She is a creature of magic - But I am The God of Magic. The First. If I was whole, stopping The Pale Lady would be a drunk man's poor joke. Now you will need every ally you can muster if you hope to face her. Perhaps if you seek him, Nethys may intervene, but there is no guarantee he will be able to overcome the darkness of his fragmented other-half..." He leaned back in his chair taking a long draw from his smoke until the length of it turned to ash to fall upon his lap. "Her influence stretches across all World Lines... There will be no dimension. No Plane. No alternate universe deep enough for which you will be able to hide from her if she is left unchecked. The Pale Lady must be stopped."

[forg99rules]

Mac had been just sitting there quietly listening to what he was being told. Upon hearing that the Box had something to do with a Song of Extinction Mac interest in it went up a little bit. But Mac knew that it would have to wait for later.

"So Basically what i am hearing here is that You are a god, He is a time traveler and July is some bitch pmsing all over our world... And besides that stuff The Pale Lady is going to destroy everything just because... Anything else I'm missing?"

Mac couldn't help but think that it might be easier to take out what is known and deal with the unknown harder problem later, that is if they have the time to deal with it later.

"I honestly would prefer to take out this calamity and not have to worry about her destroying our world, I rather like living in it how it is. Do you have any timeline on when the world lines are going to end? Might help us decide which to take down first, Especially seeing that we have to become gods ourselves to take down The Pale Lady."

[BizzaroStormy]

"Have to be honest I don't feel much different. Most this thing have done up until now is give my the creepy-crawlies whenever I get close to another one. Had another feeling about it today but I chalked that up to my skin melting off. How can we even use these powers then? While hunting down a metaphysical force of destruction sounds fun, I doubt it'll take just a couple of magic bullets to put it down. Don't take me for ungrateful, the resources and mentorship you've given us has definitely helped over the last few years but when it comes to something like this...I wouldn't even know where to start preparing to face these kinds of threats. Magic artifacts? Half a lifetime of training? A literal mountain of C4? And allies? While I can think of an individual or two who might be powerful and crazy enough to help, odds are I'd be half dead before I could get a word in edgewise."

He gives a halfhearted chuckle as his nose begins to redden from the alcohol.

"Yes, what ABOUT a time frame?" he asks as a follow up to Mac's question "What do we have? Days? Years? Does it matter when we have Mishter Paradise over there, or can this pale lady work outshide the timeline? His slight slurring seems to ping pong between sarcasm and genuine questioning as he tries get get a better idea of what the group can do about the coming storm.

[Mornings]

Part 1.3: Tapestry Of The Starless Abstract
Main Quest: New World Shadows
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (2) Low | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging | Diverge: (1) Astray
This world has changed... Perhaps for the worse. Something strange and terrible has been released upon the universe they thought they knew, while interfering with forces they could not hope to understand. From across The Dark Tapestry, a force has entered their world. An entity of sorrow and misery - but they cannot stop her alone. A new fate has been written for them, one written with a malicious hand to condemn them into perdition. But Raph'æl will not sit idly by while the world is brought unto ruin... There is a way. The wheels of fate begin to turn once more, but now the brave hero's must venture further then they've ever traveled before to undo the travesty of inevitable doom.

Main Quest: Paradise (ICONIC)(DIVERGENT)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (4) Vast | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging | Diverge: (1) Astray
Cayden is not an easy man to deal with. A liar. Criminal. Convict. Murderer. Pirate... He is a man who speaks one word while meaning another, weaving deceptive veils to befuddle his enemies. Yet, for perhaps the first time to any not of his crew, he's spoken the truth. The incomprehensible revelation shatters the former perceptions of stability the Pathfinders once possessed. Raph'æl could show them how to move forward, but he could show them how to move back. The terrors they had released from his home now threatened to doom this world to ruin. There were now many options before them - but the Sky Pirate simply offered a choice.
Quest (Complete): The Witch of Undercity
Raph'æl has gone into hiding. At his summons you have returned to the great city of Seven-Arrows. In search of the elusive Bechal Rossfield, Raph'æl's contemporary enemy and bitter rival - you set off in search of the faceless Witch of Undercity; Gal'bertel S'Sisery. While no one knows what S'Sisery looks like, it is no mystery as to where he dwells: Now each of you make for Romere's Tower, a heavily guarded mechanical-wonder which wandered about thickly crowded Lantern District. Possessing within it the only gate into Undercity. The Warren Trading Company closely manages all traffic in and out of the gate. Entering would prove no problem, but emerging from the city again would be another matter entirely...Lamashan the 28th, Toilday - 2:55 AM / AR 4731
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
UnderCity; The Hearts - [Unknown Sector]


http://i.imgur.com/ZQImo71.jpg


[Reunion Below - The Pathfinders:]
[Mac Lir / Kourin Alekk Mak Esh / Therin / Xiaomiao / Sredexon]



(ABANDONED) Side Quest | ACT II: Crying Wild Bullet (Mythic)
Difficulty: (5) Extreme | Reward: (6) Unearthly | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
....The world they had known as has changed. The alterations within the streams of causality have left The Black Brand removed from Mac Lir's possession. All the work, sacrifice and suffering will be for not, unless the box is reclaimed. Only 'she' knows where within the past it has fallen.

(DISCOVERED) Side Quest | Hope Rides Alone (Solo) (Iconic)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (0) Minimal | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
Some manner of curse binds the strange woman known as 'The Abstract'. A curse of a nature and origin muddled in questions. However, the solution has been presented by the girl. A man, or beast, known only as Bloody Wolf lurks somewhere within The Kiln, surviving in the hostile and inhospitable environment. Other mysterious creatures lurk within his domain as well, a domain hidden somewhere within the bleak and grim expanses below. Though she did not explain further, for whatever reason, only one person would be capable of taking up her charge. No doubt, the answers would reveal themselves soon, including the curse which binds the quiet spiritly-witch. Only one thing was certain... Hope rides alone.

The Sky Captain rolled his eyes as the drunk and his peer begun to prattle. "...Really? I'm struggling to determine if both of you are simply idiots, or just fail to grasp the extent of those influences which are not your own.... If this were simply a matter of 'time', in any regard, then I wouldn't need you, would I?" Vosper raised a brow. "Sharp tongued as ever. But the kid's right. If time had anything to do with it, or rather, if time had any influence here - Then the kid would be golden. Calamities aren't like a scheduled 'doom's day', kinda deal. Hell, there's plenty of those, and they aren't Calamities. What differentiates and distinguishes a Calamity from just another 'bad day', is that it is a sentient, omniscient destined force." He put Xiao aside and got up from the fluffed chair with a groan. "Now, I know you're not schooled in transdimensional omniscide. But i'll try and put it in a way you can understand... Think of a World Line like a rope, made up of threads. Those threads are lines of time. A Calamity is like the hand holding the rope - it's aware of the threads which make the rope. Time - that is to say, the threads are not in any way relevant to when, or where the hand decides to cut the rope. By the influence of causality - the rope is technically already cut. That is to say, the Calamity has already occurred, but that influence has yet to extend outward and saturate every thread within the rope. If you jumped through time 40 years ahead. The world would still be here. As it would be if you jumped back. Each new time you press forward, it's an alternate existence defined by your perception of a probable reality. Or rather, reality defined by probability. So where you stand in time, forward or backwards doesn't generate or detract from how long you have til this gig goes BANG. When stream of Causality has advanced to a certain point, reality will begin to Fragment. Major and drastic unraveling of your current timeline. You could time jump again from there, however eventually your perceived reality will begin to run closer and closer with the endgame, reflecting the reality designed by the Fates as you are continually influenced by Causality, until there is simply no escape from your destined end. You'll never see the end. Like ants caught in the napalming of a village. The most you'll get before the bang, is experiencing the time Fragment." He gestured to Therin "He's the closest thing you got to gauge how close you're getting to a Fragmented time. There'll be signs it's coming long in advance - but there's no way to know when it'll happen. Now, in regard to time? I'd say you got... about 3 jumps before it's game over and you need to find another World Line. Or, I suppose I should rephrase. There's 3 Fragmented periods before this Calamity burns this show down. Each time you jump time line, you're going to Fragment it - so you might as well ride it out til you hit the end of the line. When you hit 3, that's it. Show's over. You're dead. Going forward or backwards won't necessarily constitute changing time line - but I suppose that's really dependent how the world view's the alteration. I would be careful with that and treat it as 3 lives, but you can only jump twice, reliably. The 3'rd jump, if you take it, is just to run down the clock before the party goes up in smoke. There's not much you can do with it at that point. Now, as for defeating the girl? You'll need a lot more then a mountain of C4. Calamities don't die. They don't just go away either. You need to figure out how to stop them from becoming Calamities in the first place - you need to prevent whatever filled the girl with such rage and despair. She Ascended in death, so I guess keeping her alive is a good place to start. It's probably safe to say the guy actually from that planet would know more about it though..."




(DISCOVERED) Main Quest | Part I: Time As Abjection (Mythic Trial)
Difficulty: (6) Abyssal | Reward: (1) None | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (5) Cruelly Unusual
An unexpected blessing also brings with it an ill fate. Cast within an alternate World Line some place within the past, the truth of a new threat begins to reveal itself. July. the name brings with it dark tidings threatening to end all life within Golarion and all her sister planets. Though Vosper, now unveiled as the god Amaznen, without his divinity - the responsibility falls to The Pathfinders. The only way forward now lies within the past. To prevent the Calamity from existing at all, they had to save July to save themselves. Rank 6 Difficulty makes up the hardest challenge rating for all standard difficulty quests. As such, it is almost exclusively seen for high-tier mythic challenges. It should be understood that these quests are intended to produce very challenging, but surmountable events. However, these quests are highly lethal and should not be taken without substantial preparation. Multiple fatalities and severe injury is more then likely during a successful run - while a failed run will most likely result in a TPK, and the end of the game.

R6 Quests are scaled with the assumption the party consists of both PC's and multiple Iconic Characters. Do not begin any R6 or higher difficulty quest without a full party and Iconic Character.

To complete 'Time As Abjection' the party will require 2-3 additional Iconic Characters. This quest can only begin after completing the Main Iconic Quest 'Paradise', which will provide the party with 1 Iconic Character upon completion.



Paradise shook his head, "You don't need to understand how it works. You just need to understand the way forward. If you want to go after July, then we'll need to go forward 30 years. I'm not sure how things work from this side, but the gate to my world will open again in 1996. Unfortunately, the gate on this side is on another planet... Aucturn. Getting to the most distant planet in the solar system isn't the most simple task. Obviously just flying via some kind of reconstructed space vehicle is out of the question - as we'd miss our window. The journey taking longer then 30 years.... The only bet, is jumping between the gates which still connect the planets in a web of interstellar waypoints. There is a gate somewhere within Nex, a nation within the continent of Garund far to the south. It will take us to the planet of Castrovel. A number of gates stand between us and Aucturn, but after this game of interplanetary hop-scotch we'll arrive at Earth. Then we'll need to jump time line some 56 years or so in the past, before July became a Calamity. Then we must learn what events led to her Ascension, and death, and prevent it. Accomplishing that much will require a Divergence from our prescribed destiny - which is where you come in. There will be many forces at work, seeking to stop us. After all, we're working against the core and fundamental forces of this World Line. The opposition will no doubt be fierce. When you're ready to move, let me know." He turned about and walked back into the room from which he'd originally came.

[Triskavanski]

Therin grasped his head shaking it. "If time don't matter, right, wouldn't gahn hammer and tack before she became wotever still 'ave 'er become the bloody wotever, eh, mate? We could make an 'and ter hold 'er rope.. or sumfink. I just don't cop it. Seems ter me the Mae West way ter deal wiv it actually, right, is ter just pull 'er fread from the bleedin' rope, do wot guvnor! She never existed and never will. And we're all sittin' 'round goin' on about nuffink at all.

Shaking his head again he sighed once more, looking to the others. Wot the bloomin' rest of ya say in this, eh? I maybe keen, but couldn't never wrap me loaf of bread 'round the 'there is no spoon' wen clearly the bald kid dahn the bloomin' street were 'oldin' one.

[BizzaroStormy]

Stredexon has a somewhat sour look on his face as Cayden walks out of the room. Were it not for existence hanging in the balance, he might have told the sky pirate to go keelhaul himself considering his rotten attitude. Nevertheless he sighs and turns his attention back to Raphael. "So then, Amanzen..." he says with a light chuckle in the tone of someone who just discovered their friend's funny middle name "Its abundantly clear we're not yet ready to even think of dealing with July, let alone the Pale Lady. Personally I only know of a couple ends we could pursue right now. One involves that woman we saw when we got back to Seven Arrows in the world line we diverted from, Mayli Artel. More than enough of a badass to help us out if she's the real deal. The other. . ." he says with a degree of trepidation "That skull I fough... shot in High Castle. He seemed pretty well out of his gourd but I can't shake the feeling that he was telling the truth when he talked about the Azlanti leaving something for his master to find. Can't help but think whatever it is could be useful to us if we could get our hands on it." He shifts around in the seat a bit as he begins to relax "Another thing, you talk about bringing along allies. Does that mean we can pull others along when we 'diverge'? It may sounds crazy or stupid to you, but if these abilities work like I'm imagining, I wonder what might happen if when we found July before she became the calamity and, I don't know, diverged from it with her in tow?"

[forg99rules]

Mac was starting to get a headache from all this, But he knew that he wouldn't have been called here if Raph'ael hadn't thought he could handle this ****. Thinking on everything that had happened and the fact that he didn't have the box and that Xiao wasn't cursed anymore got him to wonder if High Castle had still gotten destroyed.

"Alright so another question here for you, Since we diverged did High Castle still get destroyed? Cause if so i am going to need to check on my crew and see how they fared and let them know that i am alright prolly should give them something for their troubles to... maybe a couple days off would suffice them, time off and a few drinks. Anyways since you mentioned that we are going to need assistance do you have anyone in mind that we could recruit? Cause i can only think of a few people off the top of my head who might join us and one of those beings would be The Abstract if shes still wanting Xiao to take care of something for her."

[Felyndiira]

Xiaomiao didn't seem to respond when her sifu extracted himself from her embrace. She seemed to be thinking about something. Partially trapped in a dream, perhaps, but she was still, in her own way, listening to Vosper's words and trying to interpret the implications of this talk about cosmic cataclysms and fragmented time. As he spoke, her expression changed from admiration to confusion, then disappeared altogether - eventually, all she wore on her face is a faintly melancholic frown, and not even a bit of anything else.

She glared at her seal for a moment, in silence. No one - perhaps not even herself - knew exactly what she was thinking at that moment.

"Sifu, so what you are saying is, someone can become a destroyer of the world, with the power to affect time and space itself, just by being sad enough." Xiaomiao's words were sudden and a bit angry, but soft, as if she intended only to reaffirm these thoughts to herself - but her voice was inadvertently loud enough to be heard by everyone in the world. "Magic is one thing, but I sometimes wonder what the world is trying to tell us when it empowers people like that July girl, or that Fey. Are the common people not allowed to live their lives in peace, yes? That they don't have to just deal with strife and war and famine and Rovagug, but also these world-ending stuff because the universe couldn't just keep its powers to itself?"

"I guess that must mean the universe is a masochist after all," she sighed, shaking her head slightly; then, realizing that she had failed to control her voice, she feigned a bit of embarrassment and returned to her corner of the wall, allowing her companions to finish their responses and thinking about some other, irrelevant thought.

"But it is strange. If you will permit me to be disrespectful for a moment, sifu. You say that if we can go back - sorry, forward - in time and prevent the girl from suffering whatever circumstance that transformed her into this form, this is sufficient to prevent the cataclysm. Then, rather than following her for however long she lives in her timeline, would it not be adequate if we just took her with us and left her here, under your protection, yes? Surely, if that were to happen, the sadness that is destined to turn her into Rovagug 2 would not happen."

The girl quickly added, "but if you insist that it's not possible, Sifu, I will trust your words without another question. We all come from humble backgrounds in a world that still made sense to us, where time only flows in one direction and our 'cataclysms' were caused by magic and the weaknesses of human hearts, so the only sensible solution is to place our trust in you and...Captain Cayden, yes? The ones who actually know what's going on. That, and you're my savior, my elder, and my sifu - I'm just a foolish little girl in comparison."

"Speaking of allies, also," she turns once again to Raph'el. "There really is a girl - Naiisif, I think - that requested something of me in exchange for her assistance. If I may ask, sifu - do you know the way out of here, and do you happen to know the way to the Bloody Wolf?"

[Mornings]

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Though they were little more then pillars of soft glowing light within the amorphous pale white world, they could feel again. Though it was not life, but awareness, consciousness, which flowed through them - they had returned. A number of similar, featureless pillars like them burned motionless like pyres before some magnificent azure figure. His eyes gleamed like cobalt fires. His long and wild azure hair trailed around him carried in some metaphysical breeze within the airless world. Though he did not speak, knowledge filled their minds. He was a god.

Visions of the world begun to populate their thoughts. He had given them life once again. A life, to stand against some terrible existence which would unmake all they knew. An existence to unravel the world - A great destroyer. Their lives had already been spent, toiling away for their own ends. Now their new lives belonged to the peoples of this world. They could stand to fight this terror, or return to nothingness.

The choice was simple.


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Part 2: Tapestry Of The Starless Abstract
Main Quest: New World Shadows
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (2) Low | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging | Diverge: (1) Astray
This world has changed... Perhaps for the worse. Something strange and terrible has been released upon the universe they thought they knew, while interfering with forces they could not hope to understand. From across The Dark Tapestry, a force has entered their world. An entity of sorrow and misery - but they cannot stop her alone. A new fate has been written for them, one written with a malicious hand to condemn them into perdition. But Raph'æl will not sit idly by while the world is brought unto ruin... There is a way. The wheels of fate begin to turn once more, but now the brave hero's must venture further then they've ever traveled before to undo the travesty of inevitable doom.

Main Quest: Paradise (ICONIC)(DIVERGENT)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (4) Vast | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging | Diverge: (1) Astray
Cayden is not an easy man to deal with. A liar. Criminal. Convict. Murderer. Pirate... He is a man who speaks one word while meaning another, weaving deceptive veils to befuddle his enemies. Yet, for perhaps the first time to any not of his crew, he's spoken the truth. The incomprehensible revelation shatters the former perceptions of stability the Pathfinders once possessed. Raph'æl could show them how to move forward, but he could show them how to move back. The terrors they had released from his home now threatened to doom this world to ruin. There were now many options before them - but the Sky Pirate simply offered a choice.
Quest (Complete): The Witch of Undercity
Raph'æl has gone into hiding. At his summons you have returned to the great city of Seven-Arrows. In search of the elusive Bechal Rossfield, Raph'æl's contemporary enemy and bitter rival - you set off in search of the faceless Witch of Undercity; Gal'bertel S'Sisery. While no one knows what S'Sisery looks like, it is no mystery as to where he dwells: Now each of you make for Romere's Tower, a heavily guarded mechanical-wonder which wandered about thickly crowded Lantern District. Possessing within it the only gate into Undercity. The Warren Trading Company closely manages all traffic in and out of the gate. Entering would prove no problem, but emerging from the city again would be another matter entirely...Lamashan the 28th, Toilday - 2:55 AM / AR 4731
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
UnderCity; The Hearts - [Unknown Sector]


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[Reunion Below - The Pathfinders:]
[Mac Lir / Kourin Alekk Mak Esh / Therin / Xiaomiao / Sredexon]



(ABANDONED) Side Quest | ACT II: Crying Wild Bullet (Mythic)
Difficulty: (5) Extreme | Reward: (6) Unearthly | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
....The world they had known as has changed. The alterations within the streams of causality have left The Black Brand removed from Mac Lir's possession. All the work, sacrifice and suffering will be for not, unless the box is reclaimed. Only 'she' knows where within the past it has fallen.

(DISCOVERED) Side Quest | Hope Rides Alone (Solo) (Iconic)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (0) Minimal | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
Some manner of curse binds the strange woman known as 'The Abstract'. A curse of a nature and origin muddled in questions. However, the solution has been presented by the girl. A man, or beast, known only as Bloody Wolf lurks somewhere within The Kiln, surviving in the hostile and inhospitable environment. Other mysterious creatures lurk within his domain as well, a domain hidden somewhere within the bleak and grim expanses below. Though she did not explain further, for whatever reason, only one person would be capable of taking up her charge. No doubt, the answers would reveal themselves soon, including the curse which binds the quiet spiritly-witch. Only one thing was certain... Hope rides alone.

(DISCOVERED) Main Quest | Part I: Time As Abjection (Mythic Trial)
Difficulty: (6) Abyssal | Reward: (1) None | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (5) Cruelly Unusual
An unexpected blessing also brings with it an ill fate. Cast within an alternate World Line some place within the past, the truth of a new threat begins to reveal itself. July. the name brings with it dark tidings threatening to end all life within Golarion and all her sister planets. Though Vosper, now unveiled as the god Amaznen, without his divinity - the responsibility falls to The Pathfinders. The only way forward now lies within the past. To prevent the Calamity from existing at all, they had to save July to save themselves.

The old man smirked at Xiao "That's a bit of an unreasonable summery, and hardly an accurate assessment. The existence of a Calamity is a paradox. It's not common or even logical, but the more life diverges from the original World Line, the fundamental laws begin to diverge as well. Truly, if these phases of existence were ever intended to exist autonomously is a matter of debate. They are shadows of the original, and insulate it. Yet their existence is as volatile as their disposition, flickering into and out of their own making by the forces which sustain it and the laws which no longer stand. It is not a product of the universe you know. The material realm existed long before the gods took interest in it and these spans of alternate reality are like the unpleasant and rough mechanical workings hidden from display. As for July... This situation functions more akin to the exorcism of spirits. Unless the object or desire of their unliving rage is sated, this will never end. The only resolution to be found is by bringing that closure, then diverging from that point and bringing that desire into reality." He bit down on his cigar and glanced at the back of his hand. "Things aren't going to get any less complicated following this thing, sweetie. Try not to over think it..." He glanced at the two men with a smirk, "You can Diverge with others, sure. But bringing the once-mortal girl with you will leave this World Line behind, bring her into a new one, and! Oh joy, introduce July to a new World Line. It's like carrying the object of a spirits greatest hate into another location. Hell, Mac did less then that and look at you now. Still, it'd leave this place high and dry. The only point in saving this rock is because it's great in terms of Fate, aside from it's scheduled destruction. Now... As far as your crew, all that stuff with Alastor didn't happen yet. Technically, you and your crew, of this world, is back in Riddleport. Keep in mind Diverging can become rather troublesome. Things not directly with you at the time, to include crap you leave in some other dimension or something... Those things aren't going to be with you. Assuming you're in the shadow of some time you've already lived, you might have access to what you possessed before, but you're not replacing yourself. You got a doppelganger wandering around, the one who actually belongs to this place. I recommend you don't touch any more fancy doors until you have your crap together next time, right? Bumping into your double, well.... Not sure how that works here. That kinda thing changes from World Line to World Line. I imagine you'd Diverge again or something. You'd be better off just jumping forward to the point where you Diverged and you know you're not in the world anymore, then taking back your ship. Alternate solution is just killing yourself, of course. Who cares about Alternate Reality #974, you. " He moved over to the broken and dusty counter and grabbed another bottle of liquor. "Now... As far as allies go. There's hundreds of em in the city. Even more if you count the ones which don't exist in other worlds. Naiisif is a good one as she's from across The Tapestry. That shaman, Blood Wolf, is no joke though. He'll curse you with just a look, hell, look at the kid. She can't even leave a crumby building. Binding creatures with his fell magics is one thing he's particularly skilled at. Recommended you try to not fight that one, unless you want to get really familiar with one spot for a very long time. You might be able to work something out with the crazy bastard. As far as the rest..." He sighed sitting back down in his chair. "I can get you where you need to go, but I'd think on it carefully. Mayli Artel... She's the real deal. Looks like someone beat me to the punch and has started calling back warriors to fight the lingering darkness. Yet, I can't say who has returned her to the world of the living and for what ends. Prospero on the other-hand... That is a rather easy one. This 'Father' figure did indeed return him to this world, and made him twice as resilient to go back in the hole. There are many gods out their, some hidden and nameless. The mortal-gods who ascended with the aid of the Starstone would have been the same, had they not left the same way they entered, to spread the word of their divinity. I'm old, but hardly omnipresent, those that are do not exist as those deities such as me. Often existing without tangible form or expression. I would probably make your first order of business to see Clarisse, the creator of The Delvers. You'll be ill suited for the challenges to come if your magical equipment explodes in your face, or shoots your ass out into the Negative Energy plane, or some such nonsense. The other option is to complete my initial guidance and find Bechal Rossfield. Since he succeeded in the Starstone's trail he's had a loaded hand and cheated the game. The benefits of being some unknown divine left unheard of in the world of men. He's become a deity of lore and time. The insight he possesses is second to none I know of, and though we're hardly friends, he's your best option for reaching Ascension. I will warn you, neither of those two are quite... friendly. But give them a reason to not hate you, and they might come around. Well... With the exception of Clar'y. She's hated me and killed my followers for quite a long time... Just give her a cute smile and tell 'er she's pretty. Works every time, heh." He winked at Stredexon at the last bit. "Now, before you go... I've been busy while we've been talking." He looked at the back of his hand again. "I brought you some help. Mind you, they might get killed off again, but as long as their soul is intact, it's not a big deal. Of course... if their soul is destroyed, that's game over. They don't have the continence of divinity like yourselves, but perhaps they may prove themselves worthy of it. Know too, you cannot afford to idle for long and must continue to exercise your divine powers, least it consume you - as it did your friends... Now.. How about we see the new kids, right? Then you can figure out your next move."

He lifted his hand in a wave of winter light. The translucent indigo flames washed into the room. The flames warped the walls and expanded the small house, as if bending the fabrics of reality under the might of his arcane mastery. The god of magic was not one to scoff at. Silent explosions of energy populated the room with great pillars of white light. He closed his hand with violent force as physical bodies begun to shape, as if bone and skin were sculpted by the gods very thoughts. Even with his diminished power, the feat was an unearthly and impossible spectacle. The light faded leaving a number of figures.

Though his hair was silvered and short, and his eyes no longer gleamed with the same eternal glow. They each could easily recognize the earth-bound immortal hiding in plain sight before them. Vosper leaned back in his chair and took a swig from his bottle. "Heh. Welcome back to the world of the living."

[Don nadie]

Khairos wasn’t in pain. This, of course, was impossible.

Consciousness had been sharp and constant. On his last minutes, Khairos had known he would die. He was cornered by the forces of the Caliph, he could hear the sharp voice of the Wind Guard weaving their magic: the lightning-songs and the spark-verses and the enchantments of death-by-thunder. Khairos could recognize their spells, the magic they used. No matter what they did now, Khairos had won this knowledge over his masters. The last thing he did was spitting on the floor of the palace.

Then pain had come, as Khairos knew it would. His flesh had been burnt to ashes by dozens of magical lightning as the smell of ozone filled the air.

Then nothing. For an instant or forever.

Then something again. This impossible lack of pain, the soft and confusing emergence into existence. At this point he was not yet something-that-is. Khairos was just a flicker of being; he could feel, but he could not feel his body. He tried to breath but he had no lungs, and yet the impossible and long dispersed smell of ozone was still all over his mind. He tried to emerge, like one who is exhausted but makes an effort to wake up.

Something was pulling.

And Something entirely different spoke.

Khairos would like to say that it was evil and that its words were evil. He had known evil, and had even felt it through the art of divination as a faint smell of rosemary and putrefaction. This voice was something else entirely. This was the thing casting evil’s shadow. This was old and hated him. This hated everything. This would break everything, if allowed.

The voice had said its piece as Khairos climbed into consciousness. He was now able to see, though perhaps that was the wrong term. The world was whiteness and, within this whiteness, he and other columns of white light were shining. Khairos knew he looked like them, but didn’t know how he got that information. He also didn’t understand why he was so calm, why he was feeling this threat to everything and yet he didn’t feel terrified.

Then he noticed the other Something, the thing that had been pulling all along. The azure being that had dragged Khairos back into existence. It was… It was… Khairos didn’t know what it was.

And yet, just looking at the figure was an act of knowing. Khairos’s mind burned with new information, his language-centre opening up like a flower with a thousand petals, like a fountain with a thousand spits, like a person with a thousand mouths... Metaphors and ideas were twirling, as Khairos struggled to find words to make sense of concepts that were beyond everything he’d ever known. Khairos had never even imagined a thing like the azure being. Then the concept flickered in his mind and expanded:


ضخامة

‘Dakhama’. Enormity, vastness, dominion. The metaphor the People used to refer to themselves as a thing-in-history, to the effect of absolute power spread through endless aeons. The being before him was that, the literal form of that. It was beautiful and terrible. Then the first word of a new language sparkled: god.

As the visions, languages and information began to take over Khairos’s mind, something became clear: All was in danger. Every single thing that had ever happened and every single thing that would ever happen. They had to choose whether to do fight it or to accept their non-existence. Their never-existence, rather, and the never-existence of everything they had ever known.

The thing, the… God… demanded an answer. For a few splinters of eternity, Khairos was tempted to refuse and return to nothingness. He had only known one world, and wasn’t certain that world deserved to have ever existed.

Then he remembered.

He remembered the sound of the fountains of the Blue Keep, that day, when he had managed to slide into a few seconds of contemplation and had almost forgotten who he was. He remembered the music of the zejel, the beautiful song whose words he had forgotten. Mahir. Who had sung and whom Khairos had freed shortly before dying. Mahir had looked at him, grateful and confused. The same look of the other dozen slaves Khairos had freed over the years. They deserved to have existed. Mahir did.

He said it without words: نعم فعلا

Then, in this strange new language. A thought which was in itself a decision, a pact, and an action. Yes. I will do it.

Khairos found himself moving. No, moving was not the right word. He was driven/shapen into thing-that-is, he was turned solid. He felt for the splinter of a second absolute ecstasy, as shapes of solid space and stable dimensions were being woven before him. The peace was slowly being replaced by fear, pain and exhilaration. The knowledge had stopped pouring and his point of view was now singular and limited: mortal.

Khairos became a body again. He stumbled on the solidity of the floor, his mind still feeling the ghost-pain of his recent death. There was a God before him, barely disguised. There were several mortals – who were not entirely mortal – staring. He tried to pull himself together.

مرحبا, Khairos said, in some antique form of Auran. Then, he used the new language. Greetings. The words felt strange in his mouth; the syllables rolled his tongue completely alien and new. He drove a hand to his chest, he was shaking but he still managed to bow slightly his head to introduce himself in the proper manner. My name is Khairos. He spoke carefully and with an exotic accent.

Khairos looked around with his literally shining eyes, weaving his fingers together so that his hands would stop shaking. The smell of ozone was still filling his mind, his body was still trying to settle into his not being dead. The world was entirely different.

I must presume I… Khairos corrected himself, seeing the other figures just emerging from light… We… are here to help you. I can promise my… إخلاص, he hesitated thinking of the translation, my sincere-free-given loyalty. A part of Khairos knew they had no other kind. In this world, the absolute majority of people were not enslaved by magic, and loyalty was always freely given. He had trouble conceiving such a world. Khairos coughed, feeling dizzy, and struggling to stand on his feet. Please, let me know what is needed of me to do, he said, still struggling with the grammatical structures of Common.

The smell of ozone was slowly fading from his memory, as was the pain. Khairos took a deep breath. Now, with living, solid lungs. He was here.

[Ravanan]

Consciousness. This experience was...new. No, it wasn't. She had felt it long ago. Was it long ago? It was too long now to tell. That wasn't right. Too...separate. Too far removed. There had been...something in the intervening space. Time? A flash, a sense of hope. A sense of...accomplishment? She was unsure. It had otherwise been a moment, an eternity of...nothing.

Her mind returned to the last thing it truly knew. Her own energy and power leaving her. In that instant, she had felt like a god she channeled so much power. Perhaps, for that instant, she was. She had not built the wardstones. But she gave them power. With her own life, and even her very soul's strength, she had channeled energy the likes of which few mortal casters anywhere could ever dream of. She had repelled the demons. Her last vestiges of consciousness had...dreamed of the monsters turning to ash as they advanced. Even the mightiest of them fell as they charged.

Questions began to flood her mind. Where was she? Shouldn't she have gone to the divine halls of Iomedae? Why had she never arrived within the Boneyard? Was it the manner of her death, that had left her soul unable to traverse the bounds of ethereal and astral? Then why hadn't she risen as a ghost? Was the energy she used so horrific that it had burned her essence out of being? Then how could she be now? What even was she at this point? What became of her wardstones? What became of Sarkoris and of Mendev? Of the world? Did the Worldwound still fester?

And what were those "voices?"

The first, the one of hope was...faint. Fuzzy. Indistinct. Not that the "voice" had been, merely her perception of it.

The second, clear, threatened her. As she came to realize what was around her, insofar as space carried any meaning here, perhaps...threatened them.

She had begun to not simply think, but to perceive. She was...light. Fire. Energy. The way it pulsed and swayed, it reminded her of her hair, when she had it. Around her were similar beings. Others who were dead? Who were lost?

And then. Blue. Deep. A being of azure light. True awareness flooded her consciousness.

I am Sitara. Last princess of Sarkoris, forger of the wardstones, guardian against the Abyss. Her own non-voice reverberated in the non-space.

As knowledge seeped through her like drops of dye in water, she became aware. Sarkoris had been...saved. The world had. The blight, the rift between their world and that of the demons had been cleansed, and mended. Adventurers, granted shards of her own power, had acted as antiseptic and stitches. She could not help but be amused. She wondered if they even knew who she was. What was there now then? Her mission had been completed by others.

Further awareness suffused her. A new war, a new destruction, a new victory, however pyrrhic. A new threat, now poised to unravel...everything. Not merely to destroy it, but to unmake it. She had sacrificed herself once prior. Hopefully she would not be called on once more to do so.

If I could not stand idly by then, how could I now?

With that, she took form. Her energy coalesced into flesh, twisting and warping until it perfectly resembled a woman whose existence had been burned out of the world a hundred years prior in an explosion of light that saved the world.

That not merely her power was restored, but even her enchanted equipment...This entity was indeed quite powerful. A god, hm? She had had visions of Iomedae when she was younger. This was a very different sort of entity, especially as he stood before her now, both of them now clad in flesh. Around her, others took form as well.

She toyed with her hair briefly. The flickering wisps of white flame danced up her gleaming platinum locks. She had..missed her hair. Her body. Odd. For so long, or perhaps so short, she had not been aware of its absence, yet its restoration now seemed to fill a void in her conscious. The moment soon passed, and she looked up, stern-faced at her new allies.

"Thank you for bringing us back to it. Now, while your powers gave us some indication of the basic situation, where do we stand now, what resources and people do we have? What needs to be done? And how soon will everyone be ready to begin?"

After pausing a moment, "I am Sitara, I suppose at this point 'former' princess of Sarkoris, champion against the Worldwound."

[Gunhaven]

The first time he was yanked from the void it had been silent for an eternity. In his time since then he presumed that it was because his kind had no reason for divine beings when he left. Thus there was no afterlife that anyone had made mention of when they were brought back with science. Now though, now he had been forever tied to a divine being and filled once again with life. As long as he pursued his goals now he knew he'd continue to come back in time.
This time was different. There was another voice, one who attempted to persuade him from his goal. For a moment he thought of giving into it but then the other voice spoke. His job was not yet finished and was in fact expanding. In the back of his mind he thought that perhaps he could convince these new allies to aid in his prime directive.

There was a clank and a clunk as a suit of gunmetal blue full plate armor appeared in the room. The silvery plates, trimmed in gold, gleamed with power and cleanliness as they seamlessly melded within one another and hid whatever mechanics kept the thing moving. The back bulged slightly compared to the chest as an azure cape with gold trim slowly formed from the void and began to manifest itself between the ethereal and material. Overall the design so far was reminiscent of something found within the ruins of Numeria, even if it didn't entirely match anything seen before or perhaps sense.
After a few seconds the left arm lurched forward, then the right, as if they were exposed to rust or otherwise frozen. They then swung back to the sides as each finger began to open and close, a light click as each one began to work away the effects of the reincarnation. A couple of seconds of stretching saw the suit finally satisfied and move from its place, the legs seeming a bit off and on closer inspection appearing to not touch the ground or make a sound. A couple of steps and the suit looked around its newest confines before turning back to the group and bowing it's head.
With a swivel of joints to reach underneath the cloak, the hands came back with a pair of what at a glance were revolvers. With a click the pair of pistols were clipped to the waist and left to dangle while the hands returned to underneath the cloak and came back with a pair of bandoliers loaded with cylinders. The ammo was draped over the chest, the head checking to make sure all was at it should be, before looking once again at the gathered group. So that's why it was new, interesting. It's voice rang hollow and echoed slightly, as if it travelled a great distance to only be trapped in the suit. "Before we get too far I wish to know what day it is. Helps judge the distance after all. Since information should be shared I am Hastar T'kar. It's a pleasure to be here."

[Triskavanski]

Therin glanced at the new comers, each of them presented in magnificent glory, something beyond.. Despite knowing he was one of the few that housed a rune on his own hand, he couldn't help but feel just a tad overwhelmed. Shaking his head of doubts, he slowly got up to stand, and present himself to the new commers. Just act like this is a normal every day thing. People just randomly appear as other people claim divinity.. Totally normal. steeling himself, "Wotcher there! I'm bloody well Therin Dasher, right, the bloomin' strongest ratfolk in a world. And it is Today. Wich seems ter be a wile back. Or maybe a wile ahead. Don't well matter in the slightest, right? We just gotta do sumfink that can't be done."


The small ratfolk stood at about three feet tall, and smelt, well surprisingly aromatic. The cent of herbs wafted off him, particularly lavender and rose oil. Small pouches hung in various location of his body, holding different items in vials and sacks. He seemed to be unusually well equipped with various weapons that could be seen, and the way he held himself it was obvious to those well trained enough to note that he had a unknown number of hidden weapons as well.

While he had a number of magic items, there was no real source of magic from the ratfolk himself. One might surmise that he's taken up tinkering and alchemy to overcome his weakness. A weakness that may possibly be yet a boon, based on previous statements by the old man.

[caesar193]

Well this was interesting. The last thing she remembered was that group of Osirion mercenaries that had found her. She supposed one of them had managed to stick a sword in her heard- a bear's skull is too thick for a measly sword to break. The angle would've...

But no, that didn't matter now. Clearly, this was no cave in some moist swamp. Moist... It sounds so ugly now. I'll have to avoid that word in this place. Or time.

Adir! Memories were slowly coming back, and she panicked for a moment while she looked frantically for her kitty. But there he was, and so Pineme knelt down and gave the snow leopard a hug. Adir growled darkly at everyone, so as to discourage them from getting any... Ideas...

After slipping Adir a small snack- Pineme wasn't sure what it was, just that it was where she usually kept her food for Adir- Pineme looked up at the rest, as they began talking about who knew what.

"Wait wait wait. Back to the 'World of the Living?' This isn't some kind of eternal torment or something?" Pineme asked. "And where the hell am I?"

[Morcleon]

When her ship had burned under the daemonic assault, Cerise had known pain.

When her soldiers had died around her, Cerise had known loss.

And when the battle was won, Cerise had known death.

Her body and soul damaged beyond even her supernatural ability to repair, she had fallen with a smile, knowing that her people were safe. The void welcomed her as one of their own, and for an eternal instant she drifted into oblivion and serenity.

...

But it seemed that a certain magical god had other plans for her. Cerise felt a tugging on her soul, stirring up the remnants of her consciousness. And she heeded the call eagerly, desperately pulling herself into the sweet warmth of existence.

Her body materialized into the world once more, briefly shining with the blazing violet motes of her astral form before settling into a more mundane appearance of a pale dark-haired human female of average height clad in a fancy dress of black and white. In one gloved hand, she delicately held a frilly parasol and appeared for all the world as a high-class lady out for a stroll.

Stretching and fidgeting around, Cerise took stock of her position. She had much of her equipment and noted that her old parasol seemed to be radiating a subtle protective aura around her. Nice of him to include that, she thought to herself. "Still, a new threat for a new world, is it? Certainly she was grateful to this unknown deity who had brought her (and several others, it seemed) back from nothingness, but it would simply not be prudent to act without knowing exactly what was going on.

"My name is Cerise Mendar, former captain of the Pride of Lucerna. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintances," she introduced herself with a graceful curtsy and a smile dancing around her lips. "And Mr. Dasher, I do believe that Mr. T'kar wishes to know the year so as to better ascertain the situation. And I would appreciate the information as well. After all, who knows if we have been gone for a year or a hundred years?"

Glancing over at Pineme, Cerise gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "From what I can tell, we appear to be on the Prime Material Plane." She paused for a moment, then added, "Well, that or an incredibly well-designed demiplane."

[BizzaroStormy]

"So much for the easy way out...then again nothings ever been that easy I suppose." Stredexon says, scratching his head. He thinks a bit about each of the names Raphael starts rambling off. "Who says it had to be some great force what brought Artel back? Doesn't take much more than a good fistful of diamonds and some magic know-how to wake someone up from a dirt nap. Though when I did it there were a couple side effects. Heck, it could have easily been some of her own followers if any of them had the talent. That Prospero guy..." he rubs his healing skin a bit as he speaks. "To be completely honest I prefer to see that crazy bastard simply wiped from this whole tangled rope of ours. Him and his screwed up cult." Strex seems a bit unnerved when Edge is brought up. The whole ridiculousness of his encounter with the man still bugging him. He pulls it together when Vosper brings up the last two potential 'allies' "Well besides our connection to you, what reasons would they have to hate us? Seems like Bechal might actually be our best bet at this point. Feels like a god of 'lore and time' as you put it would be privy to this chronological fiasco and at least motivated to help us to save his own skin if not something further."

He waits somewhat patiently and begins to speak up when Raphael mentions the 'help'. He watches the dancing white flames as a child would a magic trick. He listens intently as three of the new arrivals begin questioning their surroundings and speaks up after Therin, not waiting for the other newly resurrected assistants to gain their bearings. "The top rat is right. Our current where and when is largely irrelevant...apparently. To be honest, I'm still having a little trouble wrapping my head around it as well. The name is Stredexon Intwisca, by the way."

[Gunhaven]

Slowly the helmet shook in disapproval, hands reaching under the cloak and coming back out with an ink pen and worn journal, flipping to the last entry and making some random notes. Slowly it spoke again "The last day I have is the 22nd of...Aroden. I believe the year was AR 4730. It is of some concern that time is fluid, more than location at least. I would say it's only been two to sixteen days but..." A gauntleted hand holding the pen waved at the room accompanied by a hollow laugh. "the last time a deity was involved, the first time actually, it took...over nine thousand years to return me to where I had been as best as I can tell."
The writing tools were grasped in one hand while the other twisted the helmet. A light hiss came from the neck before the suit pulled off its helmet and slowly revealed its face. He looked human enough with slightly tanned skin, black and slightly curly hair, and a fairly concerned look on his face. On a closer inspection it was clear that he wasn't, though, and instead a translucent being. At least that would explain how a human could still look twentyish after millennia of waiting and existing. The helmet returned and another twist locked it back in place.
He concentrated for a moment, his personal reservoir of life flaring inside the armor with only the briefest flash of a white light. It was concentrated within, stored within his font, and bolstered his prana. He nodded after the brief flare, saying "I should be good now. What have you returned us for? Some great destroyer of this world, correct?"

Spending 2 spell points to do a pair of cures, then storing them in case they're needed in the future.
Total Healing: [roll0] / 50

[Felyndiira]

Xiaomiao stared at the resurrected warriors with a complicated expression on her face.

She had expected some measure of abnormality when she accepted the black letter that led her to sifu's trail. Vosper was not an ordinary man by any means - that was something that she was well-aware as his treasured student, so there was bound to be a degree of extraordinary events during her mission here at the Seven Arrows. She had, perhaps, expected monsters, politics, demons, deranged cultists or factions warring against each other for ancient artifacts, perhaps even deific attacks on acount of the sheer power that she knew her sifu possessed, or even cataclysmic threats against the world; even something like Alastor's attack on the High Castle inspired only rage in Xiaomiao's heart, not confusion or fear. This, however - seeing warriors from an assortment of different worlds suddenly appearing before her like it was some sort of casual event, and seeing them introduce themselves to total strangers from different timelines as a elderman might address a child in the streets, was just a bit too much to swallow.

"I...I'm Xiaomiao. Hello," she responded, almost on reflex. She laughed a bit sheepishly, not knowing exactly how - or what - to say to these warriors from cultures so far from her own. Just a few years ago, the mythological land to the West had occupied the fantasies of both herself and all her peers, and the girl still remembered the awkwardness she had felt when she first stepped into the Inner Seas as an outsider, foreign to both the customs and language of this strange new land. This was like that feeling magnified tenfold; the Inner Sea and Tianxia were separated by at most a sea and a few island. In contrast, the distance between herself and these people span unknown lengths of time and space.

To add to it all, she still wasn't sure how this happened, only that it did, and as easily as a child picking up a block. It's...vexing to see everything she knew about the world being broken in front of her within the span of a few minutes, and the girl almost dreaded what she would see next. "No, sifu did all of this to help us," she whispered, barely restraining herself from just screaming at the nonsense of it all. "Even if I don't understand any of this, I just need to replace logic with faith, and trust in my teacher's words. Yes."

"Are you guys not surprised at being sent to a different world all of a sudden?" she asked - almost instinctively - to the warriors that were greeting them as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

You know, you see this sort of thing in Anime all the time, but it's really rare that any series really portrays how a person would really react to, well, everything they knew about the world being systematically taken apart in front of them. It's one thing to have some aliens or some super robots thrown into the mix as long as things like time-space still made sense, but we're effectively taking huge all-encompassing concepts like causality and playing with it like a child playing with blocks.

I'm having a lot of trouble envisioning how Xiaomiao would react to something like this, so please excuse any weird changes to her personality in the meantime.

[forg99rules]

Having heard what Vosper said Mac Lir started to plan getting his ship back, It honestly shouldn't be that hard... Simply jump forward in time to get it back after this timelines self diverges or whatnot...

Having been barely listening to the rest of the story Mac Lir is slightly astounded at the magic being tossed around all nonchalantly by Vosper. Seeing the new beings and hearing them introduce themselves Mac Lir thinks that they might make some decent Allies.

"Well that was interesting to watch, Welcome back to the land of the Living, Todays date is Lamashan the 28th, Toilday AR 4731. I am Captain Mac Lir and it is a pleasure to meet you. Hopefully we can all get along and assist each other, speaking of all that would y'all be willing to let us know what we could expect out of you when it comes to this Quest or Fate or Adventure... whatever you wanna call it would be."

[Gunhaven]

The suit jerked at the thought of being on a different world. Before he spoke the date was given and a quick calculation was performed and the start of an entry written down before the book and pen was packed up and put back behind the cloak. With a nod toward the foreigner, he said with some surprise muffled by the suit "Are we not on Golarion? Even if we were back on Androffan the Divinity still rests on the former. As for what we bring..."
He casually removed the pistol on his left hip and a cartridge from the bandolier. With a click the revolver split and the cartridge was loaded in the newest opening. Another click and six lights appeared to show the blasts remaining. He finally said "I can use these to defend myself and a special weapon that's rare on this world...I believe it's called a Plasmathrower, although I rarely get it out unless needed. It's bulky after all. Beyond weapons I can offer some of my prana and can alter time a bit, in case we make mistakes. I also can grant some minor boons to you all. And everyone else, besides the best tinkerer around." The last comment saw the free hand wave toward the ratfolk.

[Don nadie]

Khairos stared attentively at each of the other resurrected warriors as they introduced themselves.

He did not blink: his electric, shimmering eyes just remained open. Khairos wasn't betraying any expression, though he was still recovering from the experience. Having come to accept this... God-creature, the presence of so many strange beings was disturbing. He knew what they were, humans, ratmen... He had the knowledge. But on this occassion, he was suffering the simultaneous effect of knowing and being surprised. These... gods... could really wreack havoc on a man's sense of self.

Only when the one named Xiaomiao asked if they were confused did the Al'Jinn's expression move: a twitch on the corner of his lip.

We... I... Am and am not surprised, he said measuring his words. This language felt somewhat rudimentary, unable to express one thing and its negative into a single concept. The ضخامة, the god. It made us know things before it made us live again. Khairos ran the tattoed fingers of his left hand through his hair, the shook his head slowly. I now know things I never learnt. This language I never heard. I recognize your race as... common... He said, staring at Xiaomiao, yet I've never seen one of your kind before. I am shaken and I am not shaken, Khairos added, it is the only way I can express it.

He offered Xiaomiao a smile, though it seemed somewhat insincere. Perhaps because of the eyes, perhaps owing to the two tattoed lines running down from his lips*. Khairos was feeling absolutely confused but, used as he was to hiding his emotions or to wear false ones depending on what was needed, found it difficult to convey what he actually felt. It was not very often Khairos had been open with other people.

My guess is that this is for you also strange, he continued looking at the rest of the Pathfinders. We have all been brought by the same danger and the similar... the same power. This situation defies what we've ever known. This, he said offering another of his strange, seemingly empty smiles at everyone, we all have in common.

The Al'Jinn then listened to Mac Lir speak and offered his answer.

The People had a word for the risk-that-must-be-taken... خطر, 'khatar'. In this language, "quest" will do, I believe.

Khairos then closed his eyes deliberately, seeming human for the splinter of a second.

His mind, recovering now from the trauma of resurrection, was tuning back into normality. He could feel the minds of the others like the taste of a bad dream when the sun makes it glimmer, or like a burning-red invisible wisp of cloud. The presence of their minds felt as all minds did: with sensations that made no sense whatsoever in any language. That, at least, was normal. Khairos could feel, too, the few spells he'd last studied, the arcane poems almost entirely calculated. They were like a tense bow, waiting for the last few verses to be inserted before the rhyme was complete. The exact rhyme to make the thing-that-is change. Khairos felt at this a happiness his expression wasn't betraying. Even after death, the knowledge he'd won from the People was still his. He still had magic.

A splinter of a second later, Khairos oppened his eyes again.

As for what to expect... I was... Am still what this language calls 'wizard'. I am most skilled with the leashes-that-don't-hold, he clicked his tongue with irritation at himself himself, the "enchantments", he added, correcting the mistake. I can weave my magic and the patterns of the minds to control, delay, exahust, distract and discover. I hope that this may be helpful in our... quest.

Khairos was slowly feeling more comfortable with Common, as if the language was taking new roots within him. He had used the verb "weave" without hesitation, even though amidst the People magic was either "sang" or "whistled".

*Anyone with Spellcraft that pays attention can see, with a mere spellcrat 10, that Khairos knows the psionic power Conceal emotions, which is probably active and running (I presume, since Khairos never turns it off).

As for the people in a new place... With this type of "huge discovery about the actual nature of reality" things, it becomes complicated to strike balance between helping the plot move forward and being realistically a mess. I am also struggling with how to make Khairos behave until he settles a bit. At least us recently resurrected have the advantage of a god probing (some) knowledge into our minds!

[Ravanan]

Sitara looked for a nearby chair.

"I can understand your shock. I've already once before had everything I knew collapse around me. One's house being replaced by a portal into the abyss and all. The second time around, it doesn't have quite the same impact, especially when you magically have a bunch of it explained to you. Now it's more a matter of taking care of the issue at hand."

Sitara pauses for a moment to stretch out her arms and legs, extending each limb in turn and rotating each to get a full range of motion, before leaning forward in her chair. As for myself, I am a tactician and a general, ensuring our enemies are at their weakest and that anyone under my command is as strong as possible. I may not be able to change the flow of battle quite so much now as when I died, but I can still help turn even an unexperienced team into a crack fighting force. While I focus my efforts on controlling the battlefield rather than direct offense, I am not a slouch with my rapier either."

Truth be told, some of her powers had not just weakened, she could sense that they had changed. While once her patron had been a spirit of devotion, she could feel the spirit watching over her now was an entity of time. Was this god acting as her new patron? An interesting question, but not immediately pressing.

[Morcleon]

Tapping her parasol on the ground lightly, Cerise shrugged. She was still reeling over her the sudden reversal of her fate, and it had taken all over her mental fortitude not to just freeze up. With a deep breath, she smiled widely and answered Xiaomiao. "While I've certainly had more than my share of strange and sudden turns of events, death and resurrection tops the list of oddities. It's just incredibly surreal that I'm alive again. ...well, as alive as I can be, really." She chuckled lightly, brushing her hair back with a shrug. "Mm... this resurrection did make some assumptions in what I am, mostly in that it processed my soul inversion to be what you call 'vampirism'. I don't suppose anyone here knows the implications of that?"

"Beyond that condition, I was an apprentice Crafter of Wonders before... well, before I got captured and enslaved. Horrible experience, would not recommend. Regardless, I can aid in the creation of any magical tools you may need, and many mundane ones as well. I'm also quite skilled in both the martial and magical arts, specializing in creation and preservation." Even as she said this, Cerise mentally checked over her magical conduits, gently pulsing them, and breathed a sigh of relief as they responded easily to her will. At least she was mostly the same, even though her soul inversion had been modified. Perhaps this upcoming battle wouldn't be so bad. Or perhaps not. She had long since learned not to taunt the Powers That Be.

[Mornings]

Part 2: Tapestry Of The Starless Abstract
Main Quest: New World Shadows
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (2) Low | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging | Diverge: (1) Astray
This world has changed... Perhaps for the worse. Something strange and terrible has been released upon the universe they thought they knew, while interfering with forces they could not hope to understand. From across The Dark Tapestry, a force has entered their world. An entity of sorrow and misery - but they cannot stop her alone. A new fate has been written for them, one written with a malicious hand to condemn them into perdition. But Raph'æl will not sit idly by while the world is brought unto ruin... There is a way. The wheels of fate begin to turn once more, but now the brave hero's must venture further then they've ever traveled before to undo the travesty of inevitable doom.

Main Quest: Paradise (ICONIC)(DIVERGENT)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (4) Vast | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging | Diverge: (1) Astray
Cayden is not an easy man to deal with. A liar. Criminal. Convict. Murderer. Pirate... He is a man who speaks one word while meaning another, weaving deceptive veils to befuddle his enemies. Yet, for perhaps the first time to any not of his crew, he's spoken the truth. The incomprehensible revelation shatters the former perceptions of stability the Pathfinders once possessed. Raph'æl could show them how to move forward, but he could show them how to move back. The terrors they had released from his home now threatened to doom this world to ruin. There were now many options before them - but the Sky Pirate simply offered a choice.
Quest (Complete): The Witch of Undercity
Raph'æl has gone into hiding. At his summons you have returned to the great city of Seven-Arrows. In search of the elusive Bechal Rossfield, Raph'æl's contemporary enemy and bitter rival - you set off in search of the faceless Witch of Undercity; Gal'bertel S'Sisery. While no one knows what S'Sisery looks like, it is no mystery as to where he dwells: Now each of you make for Romere's Tower, a heavily guarded mechanical-wonder which wandered about thickly crowded Lantern District. Possessing within it the only gate into Undercity. The Warren Trading Company closely manages all traffic in and out of the gate. Entering would prove no problem, but emerging from the city again would be another matter entirely...Lamashan the 28th, Toilday - 2:55 AM / AR 4731
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
UnderCity; The Hearts - [Unknown Sector]


http://i.imgur.com/ZQImo71.jpg


[Reunion Below - The Pathfinders:]
[Mac Lir / Kourin Alekk Mak Esh / Therin / Xiaomiao / Sredexon]



(ABANDONED) Side Quest | ACT II: Crying Wild Bullet (Mythic)
Difficulty: (5) Extreme | Reward: (6) Unearthly | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
....The world they had known as has changed. The alterations within the streams of causality have left The Black Brand removed from Mac Lir's possession. All the work, sacrifice and suffering will be for not, unless the box is reclaimed. Only 'she' knows where within the past it has fallen.

(DISCOVERED) Side Quest | Hope Rides Alone (Solo) (Iconic)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (0) Minimal | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
Some manner of curse binds the strange woman known as 'The Abstract'. A curse of a nature and origin muddled in questions. However, the solution has been presented by the girl. A man, or beast, known only as Bloody Wolf lurks somewhere within The Kiln, surviving in the hostile and inhospitable environment. Other mysterious creatures lurk within his domain as well, a domain hidden somewhere within the bleak and grim expanses below. Though she did not explain further, for whatever reason, only one person would be capable of taking up her charge. No doubt, the answers would reveal themselves soon, including the curse which binds the quiet spiritly-witch. Only one thing was certain... Hope rides alone.

(DISCOVERED) Main Quest | Part I: Time As Abjection (Mythic Trial)
Difficulty: (6) Abyssal | Reward: (1) None | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (5) Cruelly Unusual
An unexpected blessing also brings with it an ill fate. Cast within an alternate World Line some place within the past, the truth of a new threat begins to reveal itself. July. the name brings with it dark tidings threatening to end all life within Golarion and all her sister planets. Though Vosper, now unveiled as the god Amaznen, without his divinity - the responsibility falls to The Pathfinders. The only way forward now lies within the past. To prevent the Calamity from existing at all, they had to save July to save themselves.
The old god grinned mischievously as he took a long drink from the bottle. "Unfortunately...." He paused, looking over the group, cutting short their thoughts. His voice seemingly demanding their attention. "We're at an impasse... A choice must be made by the lot of you. Gods do not so readily intervene in your world, or so you had believed. But when one moves, it invites the intervention of another. I am that intervention. The Calamity, July, must be stopped if you wish to remain within this World Line. This shadow of reality provides you the best hope in succeeding against the true threat. The Pale Lady. I am diminished in my ability, and so others have taken matters into their own hands. They aren't all allies, and resurrections such as this are are becoming more common. The gods have long fought between one another with such proxies, but I fear this is sign of... Something else." He glanced at the back of his hand again as if it were an afterthought. "...Seems time is a luxury we no longer have." A small quake shook the ground beneath them, sending a cloud of grey sand and dust from the broken metal rafters of the ceiling and walls. "You'd best be on your way - but first, you need decide where you will be going. I can send you off, but I make no promises of what may befall you after. Nor, do I expect you all will continue to remain together..." He looked at Xiaomio pointedly. " In either case, this place was never 'safe' to begin with, so make your choices and I'll see you off. Find what allies you can, and I'll find you when the time is right." A second quake rippled through the building, sending strange black veins through the walls, to the chorus of what sounded like shattering glass. The strange spectacle became only more curious as the matter the strange phenomenon touched quickly begun to twist and distort, as if the stone were beginning to be drawn within some strange and nameless void. The sight only spread more, until the very foundations of the structure had begun to gently rock under the tremors of the strange occurrence. There was a reason no one lived within The Hearts...


...Things didn't last for long.


Rumors and legend gave the place a number of strange and abnormal superstitions, even within Seven Arrows. What was true and what was not were often lost upon the average man. But everyone knew, you didn't venture into The Hearts. No one came in save for The Delvers, and few of even their guild ever escaped. The legends of a changed city, a place so heavily thrust into the midst of a Primal Maelstrom which throbbed far below Seven Arrows were not all fantasy. Most of the tales were true. Many parts of The Hearts were procedurally unmade and recreated, tearing forth wide expanses of land and creatures from other worlds and other times. Creatures would almost never survive the traumatic experience, but the remains dumped into the world beneath the city provided a nearly inexhaustible source of rare and immensely valuable materials of a like impossible to attain elsewhere. The Delvers risked their lives braving such depths, while the common-man had no hope of ever returning. It was a natural safe of vast wealth and power. Many joined the guild in hope of braving the cavernous expanse themselves, returning with unimaginable riches and fame. Very few ever succeeded.

As with all things, The Blackening reclaimed all it provided, in time. There was no defense against the terrible maelstrom's power except swift footing and very quick feet.

[Summoned Heros may make Knowledge Checks normally - The information provided via magical means.]

[caesar193]

"Well this sucks." Pineme glared at the old geezer. "You mean some asshat god got it in his thick skull that breaking any and all natural laws- like the most basic one, that things die- to go roll the dice and hope some random collection of... well, they actually all sound like heroes from what they've said. And I know my cute kitty Adir here is most definitely a hero." The "cute kitty" flicked his tail impassively. He'd been a little spooked by the quake, but it was nothing a good nap wouldn't fix. Adir curled up around Pineme's feet, for wont of a better spot, and closed his eyes.

"Anyway," Pineme continued, "This god you speak of- which one was it? I'd like a name so I can blaspheme against him directly- this god picks out a bunch of people to royally screw them over? I ain't the religious type, I don't pay attention to things like Afterlives and all that crap, but this makes me something like the undead, and undead don't go to Happy Sunshine Land when they get put in the dirt for good."

She glares angrily at the old man, before turning to the rest. "If I get a say in what we're doing, I say we go find this god and shove a big, heavy length of steel down the bastard's throat. But that'll probably take a while, and that-" She jabs her finger irately at the black veins. "Don't look like it belongs around here, like its an affront against Mother Nature, and since people tend to think I'm an affront against Nature, I'd like to get rid of the competition!"

Pineme took a deep breath, and then deflated. "So, uh, does anyone have any reasonably clear explanations for me of whats going on? Like, you mentioned worlds and time and all that. I'm an alchemist, I invent potions, and I change one ingredient or process at a time, that's what I'm used to, so I can eliminate as much guessing and luck as I can. And you're saying that everything I knew and know is wrong, that I've got to scrap everything I've dedicated my life to figuring out- wrong, apparently, everything I had dedicated my life to, I've just got to burn it all and start over. So what I'm saying is... just tell me what to do. Give me a task, someone, to keep me busy and start experimenting."

[BizzaroStormy]

"And just when I was starting to get comfortable..." Stredexon says with a chuckle as he hops to his feet. "Alright old man, send me to talk to Bechal then. Things the way they are looking we wont have time for baby steps so I may as well go big or go home." he racks the bolt on his weapon as he speaks, ensuring that he won't have a repeat of his encounter with Edge. He looks up as the expelled round disappears into the aether from whence it came. "Anyone coming with?"

[Gunhaven]

Hathor shook his head. I will never understand these divine beings. AI was even too advanced for me back home. The shake turned into a chuckle and a muffled whispered escaped his helmet "I'm no hero. Just an engineer from a long time ago..." A brief look at the veins and a shift in position as he floated half a foot off the ground accompanied by a brief puff of dust below his position saw him recover well enough.
With false confidence, the suit said "I will come with you to talk to this Bechal. I do not want to risk losing this world and my initial quest becoming impossible." Even as he waited to meet this newest, hopeful, comrade his hands idly went to his right revolver. With practiced hands a cartridge was loaded and the pistol returned to it's holster at his side. Best to be prepared after all.

[forg99rules]

Hearing what was said Mac had an idea of what was going on, Thinking through what he would need to take down anyone Mac decided it was best for him to get his Ship back.

"Well if you say its time to go i guess i will need to get back to my ship, Preferably without having to kill myself to take it back, so Forward in time and up to the Docks for me if you would. Everyone is welcome to join me and then we can head out to find Swallowfeld."

[Ravanan]

"I would join you in meeting this god of time. He seems like the best one to help speed us along our goals." Sitara privately wondered if this god of time was laid back or frenetic, either believing himself to have all the time he needs, or never getting enough of it.

[Triskavanski]

Therin points to Stredexon "I'll be gahn wiv 'im. Gahn hammer and tack for the bloomin' airship would be silly. Yor already there, right, Unless yer want ter see yorself. Yer can't 'ave a knees-up wivout a joanna. Maybe two of yer would be better than one, but I fink it would just cause some madness."

At least, that is the gist of what Therin got from the quantum mage gods. One thing he did know was that he didn't want to be here anymore and sticking with one of the guys was better plan than anything else. Sure, he could have easily asked to go back before his village was unmade, and he knew that. But he gets a strong feeling that trying to do so would also cause huge problems. He was nothing, if not logical, even if he did get caught up in the moment every now and again when he came exceedingly close to death.

[Don nadie]

I would assume information will be of great aid to us, Khairos said softly. I will join you in meeting this time-being.

He had trouble still saying the word: a god. What in all wind's names was a god, really? The being before him that had just resurrected all of them was a god, and he was still limited. A thought assaulted Khairos: perhaps these "gods" were just the name mortals gave to their own masters. The idea was troubling, and the Al'Jinn set it aside for the time being. There was too much in danger to worry about philosophical subtleties.

[Gunhaven]

For a second the suit faltered in it's hovering at talk of time being a river one could travel. A hollow sound came from the helmet as he said "What do you mean, forward in time? Does it work in reverse?" Then, quieter, he muttered "Tracking the logs would be impossible with such changes."
On some level he was glad that the suit hid his body as he was more than a little upset that time could be a fluid thing. Adjusting space was a simple thing to understand. Time, though, was regulated to a relatively straight forward path with blips and blanks when the hold of the world wasn't as strong. Still, a chance to return to when the ships jumped would be appreciated just to know what happened.

[Morcleon]

"I suppose I'll join along in this meeting as well. " Cerise grinned widely at Stredexon, bringing up her parasol and unfolding it with one smooth moment. She frowned at the crawling darkness on the walls and turned to the deity in the room, gesturing at the black lines. "...what is this place? It looked normal enough, but that certainly isn't."

Shivering a little, she clenched and unclenched her fists and took a deep breath. She didn't actually have the breathe, but it was a habit from her years of life previous. And habits were hard to break. But she would need to learn to adapt in this new world, considering that she knew next to nothing about it, and she would need to adapt fast. Even now, they were going to see a god, and she was certain that this wasn't going to be the most shocking event either.

[Felyndiira]

"Khairos," she repeated as one of the otherworldly warriors responded to her question. She listened intently as he spoke of how he came to this world - though it was not with sincerity, ut almost as if she is somehow replacing her own doubts with this...creature's faith. Then, she spoke, almost mechanically, when the warrior addressed her.

"So, it is faith that allows you to simply accept sifu's request?" She seemed confrontative for a moment, as if trying to hide her own emotions with this warrior as proxy - though she managed to catch herself. Her expression, formerly a bit distraught, softened as she pointed her question back at herself - and spoke almost uncontrollably to the wizard as if he was a long-time friend. "To be honest, most of us-" she looked at the remaining pathfinders momentarily, and continued with her explanation. "Most of us were understudies of sifu Raph'el Vosper at some point in our lives. We knew of him as a great man- a powerful man who drove back ancient evils during Varisia's time of crisis, and lifted a great city from the middle of nowhere with magic lost to eons of time. But as much as we admired him and chased in his footsteps, to the point of becoming Pathfinders ourselves, I don't think any of us could have imagined what we say today; that he was a God of eons past. That everything we knew about the world - including the sanctity of time and space itself - was a fabrication that can be molded like a child can play with toys."

"And before we know it, we're meeting with the Gods themselves. A few years ago, I thought that my father's teachings were the most important thing to me; all of that seems so silly now compared to chasing Gods, traveling time, and all of this stuff that even the fiction of our world could not imagine."

"Sitara. Cerise. Hastar," she repeated, after each of the otherworldly warriors introduced themselves. Her gaze fell upon Pineme for a moment, and her voice trailed off as if the girl was in deep thought over some troubling matter, mumbling some mysterious things to herself. She seemed to be listening when Raph'el asked the party for their destination, and remained silent for much of the conversation between her comrades and the otherworldly warriors from another time. It was only after the girl named Cerise that she finally spoke - half to her sifu and half to the other Pathfinders.

"Sifu, it sounds like we've already made our decisions. I do want to ask of you, though - the Abstract, Naiisif, and the revived Mrs. Artel would both make powerful allies in such a situation. I cannot speak of the warriors from another time, but Artel's legend, at least, is far greater than the accomplishments of a group of young Pathfinders like us. While I believe we should find the god of time together, I just wanted to ask - will there be enough time afterwords for us to try to find other allies in our world?"

"If so, then I will also join the others. If not, then perhaps it would be best for some of us should remain behind to contact this wolf person and Mrs. Artel."

[Don nadie]

Khairos was shaken. His posture was still straight, his expression was still one of kind distance, but he was shaken. That human female was talking to him with a tone and an openness nobody had talked to him before. She spoke of her own doubts, of her own sense of a world shaken into pieces.

Khairos felt that his left hand was starting to twitch, uncontrolled despite the veil of mind-over-the-soul the Al'Jinn wore at all times. The pattern of thoughts he had learnt to raise between himself and his emotions, so as to hide his true feelings. But here, was it necessary? She was speaking as if it was not, as if she most emphatically trusted him. She was shaken and, wasn't he shaken too? He brought his hands together so as to control the twitch.

It is not a matter of this... faith you speak of, he answered slowly. I apologize if my language makes it seem so. You see, it is as the knowing if one drops an apple it will fall to the floor. You know by experience and use, you have learnt it and you know. It is no faith, but knowledge and certainty. Khairos was struggling to control his hand, he wove the fingers strongly together. The twitch was subtle, but it was there. This is same. This being-in-vastness, this god made us know the danger awaiting as we know the apple will fall. We knew without learning, but we knew still. The god speaks the truth.

He took a deep breath. He was still having trouble to communicate it, and the human female looked at him seemingly lost and shaken. Khairos took a decision and, with one single thought, stroke down the veil of mind-over-the-soul. It was a visible change which begun with the two lines down his lips glowing faintly for a fraction of a second. His eyes seemed to sunk and his mouth to twitch. The wrinkles of worry and stress became obvious, as the muscles of his face drew an expression of fear contained by will alone.

His hands had begun to shake beyond the Al'Jinn's control.

I, he rose one of the shaking hands to his chest, did never know a world like this. I did never know more than the small world of the Palaces-Above and the People and the leashes of slavery and enchantment written on skin, he swallowed with difficulty, forcing himself to continue. I never imagined any of this: the other peoples, the histories, the worlds and times and spaces beyond count, like the drops of a fountain or the verses of a forever-song. All I believed was nothing, not even the inch a drop of water. All I know now make all I knew insubstantial like the last wisps of morning dew. All I cared about and fought for and died for, Khairos's voice broke. Is tiny, he struggled to say.

Khairos was beginning to feel panic, panic punching his stomach and clouding his mind. He could almost hear an echo of that voice, of the danger-to-come speaking to them. Still, he continued staring into Xiaomiao's eyes.

But this is fact: I know the danger. The danger-to-come too made us know, like the god did, as we were being dragged from the darkness. We know the danger-to-come as we know the apple will fall, as a certainty learnt. He paused a moment, trying to recover some control. We know what it means and what it will mean, that it will take everything with it: the big and the small, the past and the present.

Khairos took a deep breath. And because even in the insubstantial and tiny world I lived in I knew slivers of things that deserve to have existed, I must force myself to believe what I must. This is perhaps faith. To make myself believe that my decision will protect the tiny and the vast and that I will matter. What you cared about is no toy and no silly belief. It is the tiny thing that will drive you to care for the vast and strange one. What you knew matters.

That you will fight what you know now because of the small things, I have faith on that too, he added with a small and sad smile.

Khairos then put his hands together and closed his eyes, concentrating. He rose his mind and will over his emotions, over all that he had felt and was feeling. His brain sent electric discharges, building patterns of thoughts to contain his emotions like a shroud. The tattoo below his lip glowed for an instant. His expression relaxed, his hands stopped shaking slowly but steadily. The emotions were still there, but muffled by the veil of his thoughts.

This is better, he murmured softly to himself, now back to his polite but distant tone. I am not used to speaking without veils and it feels... disturbing to me. I hope you understand better my predicament. I believe, he said with a small and empty smile, that you will be able to see the tiny is not unimportant.

They then continued with the rest of the conversation. Khairos only intervened after Xiaomiao spoke again about looking for a hero.

If we possess little time, it may be good we spread further. I can also go meet this hero and wolf-being. I wish only to be of help.

[Mornings]

Part 2: Tapestry Of The Starless Abstract
Main Quest: New World Shadows
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (2) Low | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging | Diverge: (1) Astray
This world has changed... Perhaps for the worse. Something strange and terrible has been released upon the universe they thought they knew, while interfering with forces they could not hope to understand. From across The Dark Tapestry, a force has entered their world. An entity of sorrow and misery - but they cannot stop her alone. A new fate has been written for them, one written with a malicious hand to condemn them into perdition. But Raph'æl will not sit idly by while the world is brought unto ruin... There is a way. The wheels of fate begin to turn once more, but now the brave hero's must venture further then they've ever traveled before to undo the travesty of inevitable doom.

Main Quest: Paradise (ICONIC)(DIVERGENT)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (4) Vast | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging | Diverge: (1) Astray
Cayden is not an easy man to deal with. A liar. Criminal. Convict. Murderer. Pirate... He is a man who speaks one word while meaning another, weaving deceptive veils to befuddle his enemies. Yet, for perhaps the first time to any not of his crew, he's spoken the truth. The incomprehensible revelation shatters the former perceptions of stability the Pathfinders once possessed. Raph'æl could show them how to move forward, but he could show them how to move back. The terrors they had released from his home now threatened to doom this world to ruin. There were now many options before them - but the Sky Pirate simply offered a choice.
Quest (Complete): The Witch of Undercity
Raph'æl has gone into hiding. At his summons you have returned to the great city of Seven-Arrows. In search of the elusive Bechal Rossfield, Raph'æl's contemporary enemy and bitter rival - you set off in search of the faceless Witch of Undercity; Gal'bertel S'Sisery. While no one knows what S'Sisery looks like, it is no mystery as to where he dwells: Now each of you make for Romere's Tower, a heavily guarded mechanical-wonder which wandered about thickly crowded Lantern District. Possessing within it the only gate into Undercity. The Warren Trading Company closely manages all traffic in and out of the gate. Entering would prove no problem, but emerging from the city again would be another matter entirely...Lamashan the 28th, Toilday - 2:55 AM / AR 4731
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
UnderCity; The Hearts - [Unknown Sector]


http://i.imgur.com/ZQImo71.jpg


[Reunion Below - The Pathfinders:]
[Mac Lir / Therin / Xiaomiao / Sredexon]



(ABANDONED) Side Quest | ACT II: Crying Wild Bullet (Mythic)
Difficulty: (5) Extreme | Reward: (6) Unearthly | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
....The world they had known as has changed. The alterations within the streams of causality have left The Black Brand removed from Mac Lir's possession. All the work, sacrifice and suffering will be for not, unless the box is reclaimed. Only 'she' knows where within the past it has fallen.

(DISCOVERED) Side Quest | Hope Rides Alone (Solo) (Iconic)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (0) Minimal | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
Some manner of curse binds the strange woman known as 'The Abstract'. A curse of a nature and origin muddled in questions. However, the solution has been presented by the girl. A man, or beast, known only as Bloody Wolf lurks somewhere within The Kiln, surviving in the hostile and inhospitable environment. Other mysterious creatures lurk within his domain as well, a domain hidden somewhere within the bleak and grim expanses below. Though she did not explain further, for whatever reason, only one person would be capable of taking up her charge. No doubt, the answers would reveal themselves soon, including the curse which binds the quiet spiritly-witch. Only one thing was certain... Hope rides alone.

(DISCOVERED) Main Quest | Part I: Time As Abjection (Mythic Trial)
Difficulty: (6) Abyssal | Reward: (1) None | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (5) Cruelly Unusual
An unexpected blessing also brings with it an ill fate. Cast within an alternate World Line some place within the past, the truth of a new threat begins to reveal itself. July. the name brings with it dark tidings threatening to end all life within Golarion and all her sister planets. Though Vosper, now unveiled as the god Amaznen, without his divinity - the responsibility falls to The Pathfinders. The only way forward now lies within the past. To prevent the Calamity from existing at all, they had to save July to save themselves.

The distant smile on Vosper's face hinted at some bleak truth. The answer was more grim then he cared to express. He took a long draw from the bottle in his hand. "...No. This time there's no do-overs. There's no time. No second chances. So do whatever you gotta do, and go with no regrets." He put down the bottle as the counter begun to dissolve amid the strange black pulsating fissures which begun to creep further into the room. "It might be awhile til the next time we meet... Hell, it might be awhile til you see each other again... That's just how the card's fall sometimes. Do what you can, as much as you can - and hopefully there's something left for us to save after. If it comes down to it, if you're too damn slow, or maybe things just don't pan out right - You won't have a choice. You'll have to abandon this world. It doesn't matter. None of it... Not in the grand scheme of things anyways. I can't say you'll find a good place, I won't say 'it's better somewhere else', it's not. This is the best and clearest shot we have. You'd be a damned fool not to take it. If it was my call I'd say to hell with this world. To hell with July, and go toe-to-toe with that dumb Fairy Queen. But it's not - and ya'll still got so much starstruck glare caught in your eyes, you'd probably get yourselves killed before you ever realized why... We're not the same. I ain't holding ya to any unrealistic expectations, but I know you can do this - Let's just hope the enemy doesn't feel the same way and they have some time to shake in their boots." He rose from his chair, putting out the cigarette on the back of his own hand. "Do what you can. Save who you can. This is the most time you're ever going to have to figure out your place in all this. It doesn't matter what you think you are. To everyone else; You're gods now, caught between a war you don't understand, with enemies you couldn't comprehend. Sheit luck, but it's yours. Embrace it. Now you have this reprieve to spend however you will. These kinda breaks don't come often. Get stronger, learn what you can, because regardless this train ain't stoppin' for you or anyone else, and it's gonna run your ass down if you're not ready for it." He looked out to each of them. "Whatever happens, whatever - may be happening. We don't got the time. Can't guarantee you'l be okay. Can't promise we'll all see each other again, but you should have grasped that much when you came down here. You have one chance to make a difference, I recomend you spend it on something other then chasing each others coattail's and make sure whatever you leave this room to accomplish will provide something in addition to the person next to you. Jumping at straws and running around in some disorganized mess is just going to get you killed - and for my new friends... The subtle-quality of mundane death is one thing. I can fix that, hell, you could probably deal with it yourself. But if one of these things out there puts you down. There's nothing on this side of the material plane that's going to put you back together again. This is a Shadow War, and the enemy is playing for keeps. The forces The Pale Lady and her confidants command is not of this realm." He slammed a hand on the thick wall behind him. "If more then half of you want to dance around for Rossfield, be my guest. But you're going to need a whole hell'a'va lot more then a song and some cryptic riddles. He's a good start, but he's not your friend - nor mine. Any aid you win from him will be hard won in a battle of fickle tales and verbal puzzles designed with no other purpose then to deny you of your greatest and only asset... Time." He pounded on the wall again. "Time to go son!" Paradise strut out from the back room, a well polished and maintained 5-chamber revolver strapped to his leg. It didn't appear to be holding any ammunition, nor were bullets visible on his person. The exceedingly modern device, looked even more odd as close inspection revealed - the weapon had no trigger. "Good. Where are these idiots off to now?" The old man chuckled. "Mac wants to recover his ship and hit Swallowfeld." The Sky Pirate grinned mischievously. "Take heart, Captain. The Queen Anne took her to port after the attack... Or I suppose you wouldn't know about that after abandoning your ship, would you? Things didn't go so well after you went below to Vornheim, seems the Inquisitors which entered the city were infiltrated by some ancient cult. I took your crew out of Seven Arrows to dock in Korvosa before I came to meet with the Old Man here. Of course, that will be a month from now, but at least we know where we're going. Unfortunately, we're not making for Swallowfeld just yet. Why? Because, thanks to your fancy display, the town has come under some manner of warding since you Diverged. I can't find it - Or rather, it simply doesn't exist when and where it's supposed to. Fortunately, I know someone who can help us, and when I say us, I mean you. Of course, I'll be more then willing to take you to your vessel, release your crew - who are unharmed, and aid you by acquiring the assistance of my contact to ascertain the whereabouts of the hidden village - of which even I am unaware..... But not for free." He tapped his foot on the ground with a degree of impatience normal for the ruthless criminal. "I've only one demand. Kill, eliminate, or otherwise neutralize the Calamity known as July. It doesn't need to be now, it doesn't need to be here. I couldn't careless about this World Line or whatever the Old Man calls it. I've evaded her influence long enough to know how to stay ahead. But I'll not forgive the grievances she's caused me either. In this world, or any other - Help me stop the bìtch. Then i'll call us square for me saving you sorry ship and crew." He took the bottle off the table as it dissolved into a patch of black void while taking a swig. He spit it on the ground. There was only a small drab of backwash left at the bottom of the bottle. "...Do we have Terms, Captain?" Vosper shrugged. "...You boys can work that out. As for the rest of you. If you've settled on going where you going, then I'll send you off. But ya' better be damn sure you doing as much as you can, while you can. Good or ill, you'll define your own fates - right here. If you're away from The Kid, here also. Then you're gonna be hard pressed to move to the when you might want to be once you arrive at the where. " The roof groaned, a beam of metal fell from the rafters. Patches of black void begun to open all about them as if they were some bleak open sour upon the flesh of the world around them. "You got... Til the count of 6, then I'm sending you off where ever, so if you have any final changes in localé make ya final requests now... It was fun, and exciting - and all that. Now time to scaddle, and go become little gods and goddesses."

[caesar193]

"They choose you, materialize you, and then they send you off with no clue what anything means," muttered Pineme, before straightening. "I'll go where I'm needed most. But probably best I don't meet the god that brought me back to life. I ain't in the mood to get vaporized for trying to knock his teeth in."

She knelt down and hugged Adir tight to her chest. Ignorance was most definitely not bliss, and Pineme had no idea by what means of travel they were taking, or what would happen. Adir had died before her once, the knight that had slew her had raised a lynch-mob that had hunted down her beautiful leopard, she would not lose him again.

[Gunhaven]

Hastar listened and pondered his next words. He could hear the emotion from his comrades, the urgency at their decision, and the casualness at time being unstable. Finally he spoke again, voice hollow like always. ”So time is not on our side… That means we should probably split up.
We have eleven companions it appears. We could go in groups of five or six to either destination or groups of three or four if we wish to move to a third goal. I believe anything more than that would be risking too much for what gains we would make. With that in mind we need to divide such that each group can manage until we join forces together again.
Each of the three will need someone to tend to injuries. I believe it would be best if each also has someone from this…when to help those of us from before. Beyond that the other member, or two, may be from whatever vocation. That said, I wouldn’t object to seeing this ship of yours. It’s been many years since I was last on a vessel and I would like to see what this world offers in that department.”

[Ravanan]

"So, meeting this lord of time is a great gamble then. Risk our most precious resource on the chance to gain more of it? Some gambles are worth the risk. We'll see how much he requires as buy-in to the pot. If Rossfield is of no use, then this Clarisse should be our next stop. Even more than the potential harm our magical items could be to us in...'shooting out our asses'...the loss of those resources could devastate our ability to continue, and if there are as many of these primal resurgences as these implanted memories suggest, we had best secure things sooner rather than later. I will stay this course for now."

Pausing a moment, she adds, "I must say though, I do find it odd that if we can hop back in time (and so can our enemies), it seems like it should just be an ever-escalating race to move back earlier and earlier in time to secure the starting advantage point. Unless there is some hard limit on how far one can go back."

Standing quickly and suddenly becoming aware of her hippogriff Lyrial beside her--When did she get here?--Sidara hardly even gives a start before mounting the creature and lovingly rubbing the creature's neck. "Let us away then!"

[forg99rules]

Hearing Paradise say that he was willing to get him back to his ship and the fact that he apparently saved them made Mac Lir very happy as he is very attached to his ship and crew. Of course i will help you deal with July, Can't just let a calamity do whatever it wants if i am to be a god of my own eventually. Course got some other things that need taken care of first plus if shes as powerful as y'all make her sound then i need some better gear and a few more friends to come to the party."

Hearing Hastars idea of splitting up if even only temporarily made sense to Mac Lir as they could accomplish more in at least two groups than they could in 1, Especially if they were needing to recruit others to the cause. "Sounds like a good plan Hastar, we should be able to recruit more people if we slit up a little bit. Just remember if we split don't take any risks i wouldn't want to see anyone else get killed again. And Hastar you are more than welcome to join me on my ship, I'm not sure what type of ships you are used to but i can guarantee you that Mine is like none you have ever seen before."

[Don nadie]

-I wonder, however - he argues hesitantly with Sitara- if seeking this God of Time is too risky at the present moment. Gambles should only be taken when the chances of success are high.

As Sidara discusses openly the challenge posed by primal surges, Khairos feels the sting of the new, implanted knowledge. Magic has been... what? Wounded? Exhausted? Magic in this time and Age was not as in his life, when spells were subtle and had more in common with dew that with volcanoes. Khairos takes a moment to speak.

-I must admit I am partial towards protecting ourselves from this... primal energies. My own abilities will be very much impaired by them, as spells will become less reliable -he shrugs.- I dislike unreliability. They are an additional danger, a variable that we ought to control to maximize our chances.

He pauses for a second, pondering something.

-However, I do think my abilities may be of more use in finding allies or facing the challenges and riddles of a god. Destiny and information can be woven with my magic, and I expect they can be of use in such missions. The only quest in which I cannot foresee any need for me is recovering a ship... Though I believe it must be of great importance to acquire some means of transportation.

[Triskavanski]

Therin sighed slightly. "I should be goin to tha place where dun git ruddy blown to bits, cause some magick shennanigans. If nothin else, Not gettin blow up is a good thing. And If I can provide more in areas were one would get blown up for wigglin ya fingers the wrong way, well that can only be nothin but good. Though.. I don't have much dosh on me. Bloody well spent it all, was in the market before it got all smashed up, tryin ta make a few coins."

He went through his things, a few times, There was those crystals from before, and his stock piles of various kinds of weaponry for his crossbows. If nothing else, he might be able to pull through with a few digs through the garbage. Never knew what you could find smashing a few boxes, doing lawn work, or searching every nook and cranny. And he had gear to be able to do just that, the scent of everyone's gold around him trickling through his nose, but proper manners and knowledge of law and order prevented him from going after their gold. That and well, a proper need for being on their good side, they were much more powerful than him. He crosses his hands together, making a mental list of all the reasons why he wasn't going to be stealing from his allies.. and other people.

While he did, he also worked on coming up with methods of getting treasure and riches that wouldn't get him killed.

[Mornings]

Part 2: Tapestry Of The Starless Abstract
Main Quest: New World Shadows
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (2) Low | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging | Diverge: (1) Astray
This world has changed... Perhaps for the worse. Something strange and terrible has been released upon the universe they thought they knew, while interfering with forces they could not hope to understand. From across The Dark Tapestry, a force has entered their world. An entity of sorrow and misery - but they cannot stop her alone. A new fate has been written for them, one written with a malicious hand to condemn them into perdition. But Raph'æl will not sit idly by while the world is brought unto ruin... There is a way. The wheels of fate begin to turn once more, but now the brave hero's must venture further then they've ever traveled before to undo the travesty of inevitable doom.

Main Quest: Paradise (ICONIC)(DIVERGENT)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (4) Vast | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging | Diverge: (1) Astray
Cayden is not an easy man to deal with. A liar. Criminal. Convict. Murderer. Pirate... He is a man who speaks one word while meaning another, weaving deceptive veils to befuddle his enemies. Yet, for perhaps the first time to any not of his crew, he's spoken the truth. The incomprehensible revelation shatters the former perceptions of stability the Pathfinders once possessed. Raph'æl could show them how to move forward, but he could show them how to move back. The terrors they had released from his home now threatened to doom this world to ruin. There were now many options before them - but the Sky Pirate simply offered a choice.
Quest (Complete): The Witch of Undercity
Raph'æl has gone into hiding. At his summons you have returned to the great city of Seven-Arrows. In search of the elusive Bechal Rossfield, Raph'æl's contemporary enemy and bitter rival - you set off in search of the faceless Witch of Undercity; Gal'bertel S'Sisery. While no one knows what S'Sisery looks like, it is no mystery as to where he dwells: Now each of you make for Romere's Tower, a heavily guarded mechanical-wonder which wandered about thickly crowded Lantern District. Possessing within it the only gate into Undercity. The Warren Trading Company closely manages all traffic in and out of the gate. Entering would prove no problem, but emerging from the city again would be another matter entirely...Lamashan the 28th, Toilday - 2:55 AM / AR 4731
Capital of Varisia; The City of Seven-Arrows
UnderCity; The Hearts - [Unknown Sector]


http://i.imgur.com/ZQImo71.jpg


[Reunion Below - The Pathfinders:]




(ABANDONED) Side Quest | ACT II: Crying Wild Bullet (Mythic)
Difficulty: (5) Extreme | Reward: (6) Unearthly | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
....The world they had known as has changed. The alterations within the streams of causality have left The Black Brand removed from Mac Lir's possession. All the work, sacrifice and suffering will be for not, unless the box is reclaimed. Only 'she' knows where within the past it has fallen.

(DISCOVERED) Side Quest | Hope Rides Alone (Solo) (Iconic)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (0) Minimal | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
Some manner of curse binds the strange woman known as 'The Abstract'. A curse of a nature and origin muddled in questions. However, the solution has been presented by the girl. A man, or beast, known only as Bloody Wolf lurks somewhere within The Kiln, surviving in the hostile and inhospitable environment. Other mysterious creatures lurk within his domain as well, a domain hidden somewhere within the bleak and grim expanses below. Though she did not explain further, for whatever reason, only one person would be capable of taking up her charge. No doubt, the answers would reveal themselves soon, including the curse which binds the quiet spiritly-witch. Only one thing was certain... Hope rides alone.

(DISCOVERED) Main Quest | Part I: Time As Abjection (Mythic Trial)
Difficulty: (6) Abyssal | Reward: (1) None | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (5) Cruelly Unusual
An unexpected blessing also brings with it an ill fate. Cast within an alternate World Line some place within the past, the truth of a new threat begins to reveal itself. July. the name brings with it dark tidings threatening to end all life within Golarion and all her sister planets. Though Vosper, now unveiled as the god Amaznen, without his divinity - the responsibility falls to The Pathfinders. The only way forward now lies within the past. To prevent the Calamity from existing at all, they had to save July to save themselves.

"Yeah-yeah, enough of the stupid prattling.... 6...2....1... Later kids! Good luck, wherever you end up." Vosper waved his hand creating a strange gleam of pale blue light. With a flourish he threw down the globe of energy to the ground. The warm light blinded and engulfed each of them with a strange sensation - as if they were falling away. Though it was only a short moment, it stretched on for what seemed like hours - They were far away now, cast across some expanse which had no name. Time and distance held no meaning within this light.

Calistril the 5th, Starday - 8:15 PM / AR 4719
The City of Absalom; The Cloister Of Gods
The Trail Of The Starstone; The 13th Hall Of Ascendance




[The Song Of The Beast - The Displaced Hero's:]
[Stredexon / Sitara / Pineme / Cerise / Khairos]


A moisture clung to the air, accompanied by a soft misty vapor which clung to the air. The mossy smell of salt and cavernous expanses choked the chamber with a humid stagnant taste. The running of water and ceaseless drip from above seemed to fill their ears with its subtle yet unnerving chorus. An ankle deep pool of water filled the large room. It could have been some lord's dinning room. Fine darkwood tables sat dusted and well polished in the center of the room. Grand marble tile floors lay beneath the water, pristine and gilded with fine golden filigree - not a single scratch to mar their surface. The walls, lavishly painted loomed around them with wonderful tan and golden colors adorned with dazzling portraits of important men and women.

...Yet there was no roof, no ceiling to speak of at all. It was as if some lavish room had its ceiling ripped off, revealing massive cave-like walls reaching up towards the heavens. It felt as if the room itself had been caught in some strange and unexplainable incident, teleported within a massive subterenean structure - yet, it was without question, not the case. For this was no cave. They were far now perhaps further from the civilized lands of man then even death had brought them. Far above, past the leering walls - there was only the gleam of the infinite vastness of space. Stars, strange and foreign, of a likeness which had never shared their light with Golarion twinkled far above. They each knew, this was not the time from which they had come, nor a place which mortals had the right to intrude. The unusual awareness of some divinely augmented sense of direction told them - This was within The Starstone. The Cloister Of The Gods.



Side Quest | The Misbegotten Auspex - Part I: The Tongueless Masque
Difficulty: (2) Low | Reward: (1) None | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (5) Cruelly Unusual
Finding themselves contained within some fabricated stasis within a frozen realm of sub-existence. The displaced hero's finally encounter the strange and unknown deity of lore and time, who had passed quietly into obscurity after his ascension. Thought dead after vanishing into The Starstone, little is known on the forlorn deity. Though Vosper had warned them, they could not have prepared for the austere god's whimsical nature. Beneath the strangeness of the entity before them, only their cunning and wit will bring them back from the twisted realms of distorted existence.

A man stood atop the large staircase which loomed in the center of the grand hall, some 40ft in the distance. He held a large and strange instrument in hand gazing up at the gleaming stars above with his back to face the gathered hero's. His hair was wild and filled with dandruff and dirt, a brown hue. His skin was pale and sickly, flesh clinging to a frail and wiry frame beneath a fine red minstrel's garb. He raised up his hand as if to reach out and touch the void; His strange and whismical voice carried across the the chamber as if magically amplified. It was was some manner of simply rhyming song, but sounded like a riddle.


"Let not the vain speak within these halls
For all sane men will surly crumble and fall"
Know him of many voices
Then you shall be granted lovely choices.

Cursed is the man without such a mind
Yet, hereto he will only be left deaf, dumb, and blind.

Know of this deft silly fiddle
Then perhaps, you may answer my riddle

There is not - There is: No touch, No mind, No Suffering.
No pain, No death, No fear, No hate - No song which will the son's of fate.

No time; No now, No suffering.
No loss, No hand, No sense; No wound, No waste, No lust, No fear - No dreams still left a fluttering.

No knife, no words, no lie, no cure; no need, no hate, no will, no speech
No pain, no now, no time, no here
No knife, no mind, no hand, no fear"

He struck a powerful chord on his strange instrument, sending forth a crushing cascade of semi-physical sound through the room sending up a powerful blast of water. The ankle deep pool exploded from the ground, yet, it hung in the air as if caught within the vacuum of space - Yet suddenly, it simply froze. Like a snapshot of some suspended frame. There was no movement - Then they understood. There was no time here.

A strange and eerie chorus of phantom sound, like a loose and hollow brass drum accompanied the even stranger stop-motion lyrics of the transient being. Something between an assortment of spoken-word and carefully toned calls made the riddle shift and fit within the ever morphing atmospheric musical accompaniment. The figure sharply turned on his heel, in dramatic fashion unleashing a blazing chorus of explosive notes as weird shadowy phantoms twitched to life - without features, without shadows, they played an assortment of unusual intangible instruments as if caught in some grand performance. The man-god rocked forward and back with each rousing beat, bobbing his head as he brought forth an storm of dark arpeggios which made the bright sourceless light flicker and dance, casting horrific shadows of bodyless dancing shadows across the walls, revealing some spectral masquerade. He roared out with each step, marching down the stairs at the tempo of the music, the world seeming to phase in-and-out of being with each passing tempo. Nothing moved upon the off-beats of the song, sharply adjusting themselves as the realm seemed to diminish into nothingness then re-manifest an instant later in some high-stakes volatile dance between ruination and creation. Without doubt, all within this demi-plane moved at the of speed of the music. There was nothing else, only the music.

The strange man, laughed diabolically while prancing about with both feet, as if bunny hopping in some asinine gesture. All the while unleashing a blinding stream of break-neck chords while circling the lot of confused and awestruck strangers. With a bounding step, he stepped up upon the table. With a perfectly timed step, as the world was systematically destroyed and recreated to the tempo of the song, he brought his foot down. A great shadowy chalice formed upon the table, and filled to the very rim with water. The musical deity spun in leaping circles upon the table in some mad display, playing the chords all the while. The sound crescendo'ed, become crashing back down as Rossfield cried out wildly again, before settling back into a stern almost monotone pitch which accompanied the drudging pitch of the chorus as he danced circles about the large chalice.


"So. Come!

Love, child, reach, rise; sight, blind, steal, light
Mind, scar, clear, fire; clean, right, pure, kind
Sun, come, sky, tar; mouth, sand, teeth, tongue
Cut, push, reach, inside; feed, breathe, touch, come!

No hands, No mind, No fear - To fill
No sorrow, No feel, No heart - To know
No lips, No eyes, No skin - To feel
No cup. No wine. No drink - To see

No Dream, no sleep, no suffering
No pain, no now, no time, no here
No knife, no mind, no hand, no fear

No pain, no death, no fear, no hate; no time, no now, no suffering
No touch, no loss, no hand, no sense; no wound, no waste, no lust, no fear
No mind, no greed, no suffering, no thought; no hurt, no hands to reach
No knife, no words, no lie, no cure; no need, no hate, no will, no speech

No Dream, no sleep, no suffering
No Dream, no sleep, no suffering

Love, child, reach, rise; sight, blind, steal, light
Mind, scar, clear, fire; clean, right, pure, kind
No pain, no now, no time, no here
No knife, no mind, no hand, no fear

Love! Now!
Breathe! Now!
Love! Now!
Breathe! Now!
Here! Now!
Breathe! Now!



The strange and befuddling display was like some indescribable kaleidoscope of sounds and intricate riddles, compounded by this strange place - which likely existed no where at all. Every movement, word and gesture seemed to be defined by song and sound in some manner or another. It was no doubt some riddle or another in regard to the chalice upon the table and its contents. The question was encapsulated within the cipher of a song, within the shifting spectrum of a disorienting demi-plane of shadow and sound. It was quite possibly the most devastating and devious challenge they never could have imagined. A simple misstep could cast them, out of the very structure of this realm. A careless word or tone, all that separated them from the dark void beyond. An untimed gesture threatening to expel them from whatever manner of mischievous dimension this was - All moved to the will of the music, or not at all.




The Tongueless Masque: Riddle Of Chalices
All acts, actions, and non-actions (such as speaking) now possess a verbal or musical component. A Perform Check, or Profession Check (If you possess a music related profession) is required for any action - to include such things as Skill Checks which are not Perform or Profession. Words must be in rhyme or song. Movement must be in dance and timed step. Magical and mundane items must be used with dramatic timed motions as if performed upon stage, etc.

[Failed performances can result in spellblight, granting permanent blindness, deafness, muteness, or worse.]

Solve The Riddle of Chalices using your songs to uncover details




<Part 2: The Hero's Of Korvosa - Mac Lir, Therin, Hastar>

[Ravanan]

Sitara sways forward, in time with tune
Robes fluttering in the airless vacuum.
She did not move, no time here, no movement:
Her rhythm alone could change her imprint
Upon this place's reality. Breathing in,
Her song manifests the battle of "When?"

Dance[roll0] - I presume that my minimum result of 32 will pass for basic movement?
Sing [roll1] - Hopefully I can speak?
Oratory[roll2] Inspire Competence for the team.

"A challenge? You would trap us in a game
Wherein shall we be made lame. Song and realm,
Clearly linked. Solve the riddle, win acclaim.
But I care not for it, I'll take the helm.
Your tempo bears meaning, none of that now,
That we solve this riddle, give us some clues
What IS the riddle here? You make me vow
That your hobby is to be at the booze.
A song of nothing, eternity? What?
Does the cup bear the past or the future,
Or infinity? Thusly do you strut
As we press on ever seeking fate's suture.
I tire of your prancing, your dark dancers,
Speak straightforward now, give us some answers."

Now mere steps before the table as dais
Sitara turned to her allies to raise
Their spirits and understanding of here
and now, they'd win surely, props to Shakespeare.

"For all of my friends I impart wisdom,
Understand that song commands all this world
Count your beats and measure his fiddle's thrum
Kick in to gear, bring your rhythm unfurled.
Your abilities are up to the task
Open your minds up, success shall be yours.
Uptempo, query him all you can ask
Regret naught, we'll be up a creek sans oars.
Omit nothing, even baseless conjecturing.
Something's bound to secure us hints of value
Follow all his words, what his mouth may bring
Each of us might glean something that is true.
Look sharp now, react. Let's get him to talk
Don't let this wily rogue feed you all schlock."

[BizzaroStormy]

There aren't a heck of a lot of situations Stredexon wasn't prepared for, but being transported to a realm under musical rule is something that he simply couldn't imagine until now. All of his experience was in lead and gunpowder, not sharps and flats. By some miracle, he'd been fortunate enough that a skilled bard had come along on this journey to enlist the help of Rossfield. The angelic gunman stood quietly as he racked his brain for a way to aid his newfound ally...

Wait a sec...'racked'...thats it! the thought occurs to him as he brings his slung rifle around to the front. He punctuates the end of a verse of Sitara's song with a well-timed draw of his weapon's bolt. The 'clack' of the return spring bottoming out is followed quickly by the sound of the ejected round bouncing onto the floor before vanishing.

'clacka-tink-tink-tink' it wasn't much, but it was all he could muster with his limited training.

Rolling a check to aid another and bump Sitara's check.
DC10 [roll0]

[Mornings]

Part 2: Tapestry Of The Starless Abstract
Main Quest: New World Shadows
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (2) Low | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging | Diverge: (1) Astray
This world has changed... Perhaps for the worse. Something strange and terrible has been released upon the universe they thought they knew, while interfering with forces they could not hope to understand. From across The Dark Tapestry, a force has entered their world. An entity of sorrow and misery - but they cannot stop her alone. A new fate has been written for them, one written with a malicious hand to condemn them into perdition. But Raph'æl will not sit idly by while the world is brought unto ruin... There is a way. The wheels of fate begin to turn once more, but now the brave hero's must venture further then they've ever traveled before to undo the travesty of inevitable doom.

Main Quest: Paradise (ICONIC)(DIVERGENT)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (4) Vast | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging | Diverge: (1) Astray
Cayden is not an easy man to deal with. A liar. Criminal. Convict. Murderer. Pirate... He is a man who speaks one word while meaning another, weaving deceptive veils to befuddle his enemies. Yet, for perhaps the first time to any not of his crew, he's spoken the truth. The incomprehensible revelation shatters the former perceptions of stability the Pathfinders once possessed. Raph'æl could show them how to move forward, but he could show them how to move back. The terrors they had released from his home now threatened to doom this world to ruin. There were now many options before them - but the Sky Pirate simply offered a choice.
Quest (Complete): The Witch of Undercity
Raph'æl has gone into hiding. At his summons you have returned to the great city of Seven-Arrows. In search of the elusive Bechal Rossfield, Raph'æl's contemporary enemy and bitter rival - you set off in search of the faceless Witch of Undercity; Gal'bertel S'Sisery. While no one knows what S'Sisery looks like, it is no mystery as to where he dwells: Now each of you make for Romere's Tower, a heavily guarded mechanical-wonder which wandered about thickly crowded Lantern District. Possessing within it the only gate into Undercity. The Warren Trading Company closely manages all traffic in and out of the gate. Entering would prove no problem, but emerging from the city again would be another matter entirely...Neth the 12th, Sunday - 1:55 PM / AR 4732
Metropolitan City of Varisia; The City of Korvosa
Veldraine; Skysreach Harbor - Korvosan Naval District


http://i.imgur.com/ZQImo71.jpg


[Hero's Of The Street - Sailors Of The Sky:]
[Mac Lir, Hastur, Therin]




(RECOVERED) Side Quest | ACT II: Crying Wild Bullet (Mythic)
Difficulty: (5) Extreme | Reward: (6) Unearthly | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
Blessed by the fortune of a universe condemned to ruin, the hands of fate begin to diverge further from the world they knew. With little more then the fortune provided by a benevolent world, the cruel curse of July is seemingly undone - The box recovered upon returning to the time from whence they had left. Though it is but a small thing, and a greater threat still looms upon the horizon to bring the extinction of man, there is hope.

(DISCOVERED) Side Quest | Hope Rides Alone (Solo) (Iconic)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (0) Minimal | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
Some manner of curse binds the strange woman known as 'The Abstract'. A curse of a nature and origin muddled in questions. However, the solution has been presented by the girl. A man, or beast, known only as Bloody Wolf lurks somewhere within The Kiln, surviving in the hostile and inhospitable environment. Other mysterious creatures lurk within his domain as well, a domain hidden somewhere within the bleak and grim expanses below. Though she did not explain further, for whatever reason, only one person would be capable of taking up her charge. No doubt, the answers would reveal themselves soon, including the curse which binds the quiet spiritly-witch. Only one thing was certain... Hope rides alone.

(DISCOVERED) Main Quest | Part I: Time As Abjection (Mythic Trial)
Difficulty: (6) Abyssal | Reward: (1) None | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (5) Cruelly Unusual
An unexpected blessing also brings with it an ill fate. Cast within an alternate World Line some place within the past, the truth of a new threat begins to reveal itself. July. the name brings with it dark tidings threatening to end all life within Golarion and all her sister planets. Though Vosper, now unveiled as the god Amaznen, without his divinity - the responsibility falls to The Pathfinders. The only way forward now lies within the past. To prevent the Calamity from existing at all, they had to save July to save themselves.

The calming sound of the seaside breeze howled in their ears. The strong winds brought in from the sea at the edge of Conqueror's Bay. It brought with it the taste of salt, and the smell of oiled canvas from the great masts of the large navel ships which milled about in the water out upon the horizon. For most of them, it was there first time in Veldraine, or even Korvosa. But Mac Lir had been in Veldraine, once. Quite long ago. The red sails of the Korvosan Navy were familiar and unwelcome, just like the snap of the large red flag emblazoned with the city's crest from the 50ft pole which stood above. Veldraine was a military harbor, a death sentence for men of his profession - and he'd been brought to the docks of the city as prisoner during his early days under the command of another, less fortunate smuggler. The arm of the law was much longer, and much more vicious then that of Riddleport. He'd learned that quickly.

The cawing of the seagulls above the bay and the rays of light puncturing the haze of grey clouds seemed to be such a drastic contrast to the cold and consuming earth and mire of the wicked pits below Seven-Arrows. He'd had enough of UnderCity, they all did. The smell of rot and decay accompanied by the remains of choking industrial smog from the metalworks and waste disposal was like some nightmarish dream when remembering all that lay within The Hearts, or deeper... It was like some earthen maw which would consume all that ventured too deep, the very bowels of the city were places of urban legend and death. Here, now, standing under the sky again - that world seemed unnatural, like a world that shouldn't exist.

Paradise swat Therin the back as he turned to leave. "Pack it in boys, we don't got all day." He walked down the dock toward the city proper out of the harbor. The Sky Captain glanced down, spying a small pale gleam. Not believing what he saw he leaned down and picked up the familiar silver box, it had a few scratches, but it was indeed the same item he had lost - The very same music box Vosper had supposedly possessed. He pocketed the item and begun to follow the Sky Pirate's lead, he'd preferred to minimize their time in Veldraine as much as possible to mitigate the likelihood of encountering a familiar face... There was no one here he wanted to see again, that much was certain.

They walked through the wide cobbled streets. The roads were larger, yet less occupied to accommodate the movement of wares and ammunitions from the armory and powderstores to the ships as they deployed. Men clad in the regal double-breasted naval crimson longcoat, iconic to the naval men of the city's seafaring military force were the most common sight about them. A number of merchants and dockhands in simple cloths made their way about. The hurried pace of the naval yard had all but died away, as most men were off duty tending to their own matters. One man, smoking a finely carved pipe sat in a tall stool outside a white painted building with a squat pair of rectangular windows. The man wore a white and red military coat, accompanied by a thick black baldric across his chest which hung a brass and bronze accented officer's sabre. The long feathered cavalier's cap which rested on the table along with the great plume of colored feathers which reached out and over his shoulder from a brooch clearly identified him as an officer of the prestigious Sable Company - The skyborne Marine company famous for their skill at arms and hippogriff mounts. Though donned in the regal dress attire, the officer was still quite intimidating. The man took a draw from his pipe, "...Paradise. You got some gall to show your face around here." The pirate grinned wildly and shoved last the heavy double doors of the establishment - The sign above read; The White Lady

The interior was filled with sailors and seamen of every stripe. A number of sailors and disheveled Sable Company marines were drinking and singing at the counter. A grizzled looking man pointed at the new comers who entered, "Store ya' arms, ya' salty-dogs!" A large rusted out cabin set with large heavy locks sat off to the side. Paradise opened one of the unoccupied lockers, tossing the triggerless gun in a box and slamming the small door without bothering to set the lock. "Piss off, Walvur." He glanced back over his shoulder at the Pathfinders, "Store the sheit, and get on with it." Not bothering to wait, he walked through the reception hall which divided the entrance from the establishment.

A large table in the center of the room seemed to be the life of the party. Two women, minstrels, played a roaring and roiling tune amid a small crowd of some two dozen men. A small handful were dressed in fine cloths, while the rest were donned in the golden trimmed navel officers uniform - unbuttoned and stained with expensive whisky. They cheered and rattled their dress sabre's, seemingly not subject to the establishment's rules, while a short woman stood at the center of the crowd with one foot upon the table. She chugged a massive tankard of something exceptionally strong. With a victorious cry, she finished the beverage and threw down the cup to shatter at the floor at her feet with a vicious cry. The officers around her erupted into a wild roar, unsheathing their swords and waving them overhead in a rowdy display. The man next to her, also trying the same challenge - gaged and spat up a spray of some foul smelling booze upon the frills of her insanely expensive red dress. Without so much as a thought, her tightly balled fist came hurtling forward into his face, breaking the sorry lad's jaw and sprawling him upon the floor. The crowd cheered again, even louder - shaking the floor. The Pirate, shoved his way through the crowd; "Oi, Grem... Looking well... Get promoted to Captain? .....Came to get my ship." The cheers died away, and the drunken officers glared at the interloper. "Cayden Paradise - As ever, you're a few years late. It's Vice Admiral, now." She pulled a bookish looking man from the side who carried a tome of ledgers. "...Shares for The Morrigan." The man dug out a large pouch from his person and some kind of receipt, handing it to the Admiral. She shoved the paper down Paradise's shirt and tossed the pouch on the table, spilling platinum on the table. "Sold the bìtch. Those are your royalties for your contact; Pleasure doing business... Captain. Gaedren Lamm liquidated his contacts with The Queen's grand Navy to seize all assets not carrying her standard. Fortunately, Lamm, for the criminal he is, paid quite well for vessels which defaulted. If you still have business, it's now with The Burnwell Fishery Co. and Gaedren Lamm...Good day." Cayden stumbled back a step, as the woman shoved the receipt down his shirt, he dug out the paper, looking it over. "...'One-hundred-and-ten-thousand-pieces for all assets contained and assigned to contract #1026' ...ARE YOU FÜCKING KIDDING ME!? You can't just BUY a crew because their on a ship's manifest. Hell, you can't just BUY an airship either! The fùck is this shìt, Grem!?" The woman crossed her arms,"You're a dying breed Cayden. The bad guys don't fly The Black anymore. This is how real criminals do business. There's nothing within the confines of the law which can be done... Unfortunately, it's all perfectly legal." Side Quest: The Skies Of Vengeance (ICONIC)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (4) Vast | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
The first rule, and only rule: No one makes Cayden Paradise look the fool. With a promise broken, and a ship, her crew and all her possessions lost to the scheming of the well known Korvosan criminal, Gaedren Lamm. Captain Paradise marches the road to war. Though the vessel wasn't his to loose, the Sky Pirate's pride is deeply wounded. It has been half a decade since The Queen Anne laid waste to half the settlements in The Hold of Belkzen, and the legendary wrath of the black-sailed ship and her crew became feared throughout all of Avistan. The pirate intended remind every rat skulking the muddied streets of Varisa why his name was legend. The Sky Pirate grit his teeth, violently shredding the document. "Piss on that... PISS ON THAT! I had Terms! I'M GODDAMN CAYDEN PARADISE! No sleazy little paper-pushing fùck crosses Captain Paradise and gets away with it... I'm gonna skin this little shìt and hang his bloody hide from my masts... After I burn his sorry shìt down. That much I promise. The rest?" He took out a cigarette and lit it with a blue flamed lighter, "I dunno... so stay out of my way." The woman grinned, "No one's going to miss someone like Lamm. The Queen's Navy, at least, won't hear a thing. Good luck, Captain."

Paradise snatched the platinum off the table, and looked at the men behind him - throwing the coin purse at Mac Lir. "Six hours. Do whatever you gotta do, buy whatever you gotta buy. Then get your asses back here, because it's almost Killin' Time... I gotta see a man about a really big gun." He stormed forward towards the door.


Gremory Del'Rose, Korvosan Navy Vice Admiral (ICONIC)


http://i44.photobucket.com/albums/f7/DreadfulMorning/%20gracehoo-1435505321%20-%20Copy_zpsm2soiz2m.jpg

[Gunhaven]

Hastar quickly came to his senses and clicked his tongue at the sight and sound. Such primitive ships these natives used, hopefully this new ship is something interesting. With a puff of dust he followed after Paradise with the others, his ears open and head swiveling as he soaked in the new sights. He didn’t want to miss anything after all. After a moment he uttered ”When are we this time? Although I guess I will need a better system of tracking time than what I have now if we can do this.”
He glanced briefly at his comrades as they passed others, gauging reactions from all involved. For his part he didn’t much care for what he saw and paused briefly to further bolster what healing he had. The brief flash of white light passed quickly enough and the suit of armor caught up quickly enough with the group as they ambled forward. Another click of the tongue at the reaction from the officer was all that was warranted since violence wasn’t necessary in this land.
Similarly he didn’t say a word when the call to store weapons was given; he simply clicked his tongue and did as requested with his revolvers after a slight pause at the situation to gauge how likely he would have to wait in the dark void before reforming. When he placed them within the box he checked with a slight shift of his hands to see if he could reach into the confines in case it was needed. Revolved placed within the chest he locked it with an offered lock, checking it before he floated away.
A fourth click was the response for the party as he waited outside the greater group. For a few seconds later he didn’t move before casually he looked around for the pirate that had his jaw broken, checked to see if anyone was helping the fool, and floated over if no one was. He made no hostile movements toward anyone as he reached out and grasped the broken jaw. ”Hold still, let’s stop that bleeding” was the only explanation he gave as he channeled a touch of his healing.
I’m not sure what qualifies as an opposed check. If any such things fall in that category then +3 to the checks.
Perception check: [roll0]
Sense Motive check (Overall/In the Streets): [roll1]
Sense Motive check (In the White Lily): [roll2]
Also: Spending a spell point to add [roll3] more healing to the pool.
Then spending a point of healing to at least stop the bleeding from the poor sod that got punched.

[caesar193]

Pineme looked around the place with wide-eyed curiosity. The Starstone... she had once wanted to carve out a chunk of it to see what it was made of, but the big giant chasm had stood in the way, and crossing it posed several problems. But that was another matter, since now was not the time for experiments. Now was the time for anger. Now how to best express that anger...?

A distant scrap of rhyme floated through her skull. She'd heard it, once, long ago, from what she knew not, and so she began to chant.


"Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

She stepped forward, one hand on Adir for both comfort and meaning. He was no tiger, but he'd do for a stand-in. Pineme glared at the god, letting her anger wash over him, as well as her question- was he the god that had brought them back?


In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?"

Pineme sank to her knees, and bowed her head. Adir growled at the mysterious person, the fearsome sound filling the growing silence.


"But a Game you'd have us play,
on this thrice-cursed day.
A game of riddles, presented here,
for us to hunt, as we would a deer.
You must be as dead as me,
or at least as I used to be.
Dead of boredom, victim of naught
To come up with this ridiculous plot.

The thing you speak, this thing of 'nots.'
Is it more than nothing bound with knots?
Can you tell us more than the hole it doesn't fill,
Or dost thou belong atop a dunghill?"

Perform (Poetry? Oratory? Its not like I have ranks in any of 'em): [roll0]

The first poem by William Blake. Just in case you didn't realize. The second one is me. You can tell because it sucks :smallbiggrin:.

[Don nadie]

Khairos felt the sudden transportation, like a hook taking the brain out of him, dissolving him and the reassembling the entirety of his being in this new, distant place. Then, the sudden realization: The Starstone. The concept was not his, it couldn't be. Khairos had just barely conceived of divinity, and the idea of a physical trial to acquire it was completely baffling. And yet was now understanding.

Then he felt the rhythm. Was it his heart? It seemed to pump blood slower than usual or, rather, at a different pace. The steps and the words that the god began to speak: that was the rhythm, and his whole body was now shaking with it. Awareness and knowledge being the malleable thing Khairos now knew them to be, he also understood instantly that in this plane all was rhythm and that only well timed actions would save them from crippling punishment.

Khairos dared not speak. He barely dared breath, lest he break havoc. All of him was given and surrendered to the rhythm of the maddened god, the notes still echoing down the halls of his mind. Khairos became suddenly aware of the dryness of his lips and the stiffness of his legs, but to move or to just lick them would have required an interruption, a shaping of the music he was not sure he could perform.

Then the white-haired woman began to rhyme. Sitara. Robed and fluttering with the otherworldly winds, she dared. She interrupted. She spoke her own rhyme in a tone that demanded answer from the god. Her tone was a defiance of that being and a demand. She then turned and addressed them, her companions. Khairos had heard anything like that, a strong pull of words. It shattered the many thought-veils he wore, drawing forth his emotions. He felt admiration for Sitara. He felt she believed in him, and that he could do anything because of it.

Khairos closed his eyes and allowed the rhythm of her song to drive him, to attune him with her. This was a plane of sound and music, of show and spectacle. And if this god wanted a show, he'd get it.

With a sharp, sudden move, Khairos lifted his right hand, all fingers extended and sharp except for the thumb. He had a slim awareness of his companion pulling out the riffle and he tried to join him, drawing one leg slightly upwards. With another of the beats, Khairos lowered the leg but instead of falling on the floor he lifted the rest of his body, now flying a few inches on the air. Floating and carefully attempting to support Sitara's performance, Khairos drew with his hands and in rhythmic patterns the symbols of a Prestidigitation spell. He began whispering the words of the spell rhythmically, his whole body being part of the casting.

The energy brought forward began to shimmer, causing lights of white, silver and gold to begin shining around the bard, and making a small underlining beat join the performance of the woman. Khairos was dancing slowly and carefully behind her, whilst using the spell to make Sitara's performance all the more impressive.

If this god wanted a show, he was going to get one.

Let's make this a music video for the Ages

I cast prestidigitation as a way of supporting Sitara (can it count as a Help action? I figured Help means any action that makes the other action more effective... Prestidigitation seemed like a nice help!).

Bonuses to Perform: 5 (Khairos's natural) + 10 (from Sitara's many bonuses)
1d20+15

[forg99rules]

The smell of Oiled Canvas on the air and the taste of Salt would have put Mac Lir at easy if it wasn't for where they were. Looking around seeing the Red sails of the Korvosan Navy and realizing that he is in Veldraine once again made him shudder a little as this place could easily spell death for him. Luckily for Mac Lir he wasn't carrying anything that was straight up illegal in this town.

Mac Lir was surprised to see the Music Box again thinking that it had been lost to time and that he would have to live with knowing that there was one Job he hadn't been able to complete since having become the Captain of The Morrigan. Quickly pocketing the Music Box Mac Lir caught up with paradise.

Upon entering The White Lady, Mac Lir followed Paradises lead and Stored his weapons in a locker unlike paradise though Mac Lir made sure to lock it up so that no-one could mess with his equipment he again followed after Paradise.

Listening to what the Admiral was saying Mac Lir felt his heart start to sink at the very fact that his Ship had been sold at all. He had put not only his Life but his own Blood, Sweat and Tears into building the ship and making a name for it. Hearing how Pissed off Paradise was started having an effect on Mac Lir as his blood began to boil Hearing the name of the Man who STOLE his ship pissed Mac off even more. "You can have his Skin Paradise but i want everything else And i won't be happy till that ****ers corpse is swinging from the side of my ship."

Looking at the pouch of platinum that Paradise had tossed at him Mac knew he could afford some of those items that he had been meaning to pick up. "Aight well i'm going to go get a few things, Feel free to join me" Mac said while looking over at Hastur & Therin. Mac quickly turned around and headed back out picking up his gear along the way. Mac knew of a few places where he might be able to pickup the gear he wanted as such Mac headed towards the Old Town.

[Triskavanski]

Therin clears his head shaking it a bit as they are wisked away to another world. Blinking a few times, he silently follows the group towards tavern as he looks around. He, himself, didn't really know the music box too much. It might have been mentioned before, but dieing and not dieing tends to be very draining on one's mind and memory.

He turns to look to the lockboxes and back to the person at the door. "I'll.. Just stay outside, Uvverwise I'll be out 'ere all day any roads." he remarks waving a hand to the other three, as he pulls back a bit. He was a mobile armory after all, having more weapons than one would normally have. He keeps his eyes and ears open though, while waiting outside for the two.

Standing outside in the bright light, he focuses more on being less noticeable and more incognito as he watches them go inside, then a short while later he see's paradise come out, glances to him. "Did evryfink go awright?"




[roll0]

[Morcleon]

The Starstone. To Cerise, the name and the place she was in resonated with her entire being. She let herself a brief grin at the etymological similarities of her own people, the Starchildren, and her current location. But it was more than just that. There was a magic in the air that she could almost taste, and she shivered eagerly. After all, she was a being born of astral magic and the stars above called to her.

A sudden paradigm shift. A musical line in the air. Cerise stared upward with a smile. The starlight from above seemed to waver and shimmer along with the music as an inherent understanding came to her, that music was the world now. And she had always had a bit of a musical talent, even if she had never bothered to improve herself in that regard.

Her entire form gleamed with a wave of her hands, a soft wordless tone flowed outward from her, sweeping across the room and blending itself seamlessly into Sitara's song, each note creating chords, each rhythm complementing her ally's words. As the song grew, her own sound grew in complexity, the unseen instruments fading in as the performance demanded. "A music battle, is it? This certainly... sounds fun."

Using the Cantrips feat to create a harmonizing instrumental track for Sitara's music.

Aid Another on Sitara: Perform (magical synthesizer): [roll0]

[Gunhaven]

Hastar nodded his helmet at the request and stood up. He left the pirate where he was and floated toward Mac. With a firm grasp on the key he unlocked and retrieved the revolvers. It was best to not reveal that he wasn’t fully corporeal until necessary, at least. Still he followed and said in his hollow voice ”Where to first? I wouldn’t mind improving these things…” He motioned with his revolvers and continued ”to use my wisdom. Plus my current band could use a touch improving. Maybe some gloves to fit under these gauntlets of mine…”

[Mornings]

Part 2: Tapestry Of The Starless Abstract
Main Quest: New World Shadows
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (2) Low | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging | Diverge: (1) Astray
This world has changed... Perhaps for the worse. Something strange and terrible has been released upon the universe they thought they knew, while interfering with forces they could not hope to understand. From across The Dark Tapestry, a force has entered their world. An entity of sorrow and misery - but they cannot stop her alone. A new fate has been written for them, one written with a malicious hand to condemn them into perdition. But Raph'æl will not sit idly by while the world is brought unto ruin... There is a way. The wheels of fate begin to turn once more, but now the brave hero's must venture further then they've ever traveled before to undo the travesty of inevitable doom.

Main Quest: Paradise (ICONIC)(DIVERGENT)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (4) Vast | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging | Diverge: (1) Astray
Cayden is not an easy man to deal with. A liar. Criminal. Convict. Murderer. Pirate... He is a man who speaks one word while meaning another, weaving deceptive veils to befuddle his enemies. Yet, for perhaps the first time to any not of his crew, he's spoken the truth. The incomprehensible revelation shatters the former perceptions of stability the Pathfinders once possessed. Raph'æl could show them how to move forward, but he could show them how to move back. The terrors they had released from his home now threatened to doom this world to ruin. There were now many options before them - but the Sky Pirate simply offered a choice.
Quest (Complete): The Witch of Undercity
Raph'æl has gone into hiding. At his summons you have returned to the great city of Seven-Arrows. In search of the elusive Bechal Rossfield, Raph'æl's contemporary enemy and bitter rival - you set off in search of the faceless Witch of Undercity; Gal'bertel S'Sisery. While no one knows what S'Sisery looks like, it is no mystery as to where he dwells: Now each of you make for Romere's Tower, a heavily guarded mechanical-wonder which wandered about thickly crowded Lantern District. Possessing within it the only gate into Undercity. The Warren Trading Company closely manages all traffic in and out of the gate. Entering would prove no problem, but emerging from the city again would be another matter entirely...Neth the 12th, Sunday - 1:59 PM / AR 4732
City of Varisia; The City of Korvosa
Veldraine; Skysreach Harbor - Korvosan Naval District


http://i.imgur.com/ZQImo71.jpg


[Hero's Of The Street - Sailors Of The Sky:]
[Mac Lir, Hastur, Therin]




(RECOVERED) Side Quest | ACT II: Crying Wild Bullet (Mythic)
Difficulty: (5) Extreme | Reward: (6) Unearthly | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
Blessed by the fortune of a universe condemned to ruin, the hands of fate begin to diverge further from the world they knew. With little more then the fortune provided by a benevolent world, the cruel curse of July is seemingly undone - The box recovered upon returning to the time from whence they had left. Though it is but a small thing, and a greater threat still looms upon the horizon to bring the extinction of man, there is hope.

(DISCOVERED) Side Quest | Hope Rides Alone (Solo) (Iconic)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (0) Minimal | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
Some manner of curse binds the strange woman known as 'The Abstract'. A curse of a nature and origin muddled in questions. However, the solution has been presented by the girl. A man, or beast, known only as Bloody Wolf lurks somewhere within The Kiln, surviving in the hostile and inhospitable environment. Other mysterious creatures lurk within his domain as well, a domain hidden somewhere within the bleak and grim expanses below. Though she did not explain further, for whatever reason, only one person would be capable of taking up her charge. No doubt, the answers would reveal themselves soon, including the curse which binds the quiet spiritly-witch. Only one thing was certain... Hope rides alone.

(DISCOVERED) Main Quest | Part I: Time As Abjection (Mythic Trial)
Difficulty: (6) Abyssal | Reward: (1) None | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (5) Cruelly Unusual
An unexpected blessing also brings with it an ill fate. Cast within an alternate World Line some place within the past, the truth of a new threat begins to reveal itself. July. the name brings with it dark tidings threatening to end all life within Golarion and all her sister planets. Though Vosper, now unveiled as the god Amaznen, without his divinity - the responsibility falls to The Pathfinders. The only way forward now lies within the past. To prevent the Calamity from existing at all, they had to save July to save themselves. Side Quest: The Skies Of Vengeance (ICONIC)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (4) Vast | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
The first rule, and only rule: No one makes Cayden Paradise look the fool. With a promise broken, and a ship, her crew and all her possessions lost to the scheming of the well known Korvosan criminal, Gaedren Lamm. Captain Paradise marches the road to war. Though the vessel wasn't his to loose, the Sky Pirate's pride is deeply wounded. It has been half a decade since The Queen Anne laid waste to half the settlements in The Hold of Belkzen, and the legendary wrath of the black-sailed ship and her crew became feared throughout all of Avistan. The pirate intended remind every rat skulking the muddied streets of Varisa why his name was legend.
Cayden's steely gaze peered off in the distance, not bothering to turn towards the ratfolk. The word seemed to crawl up and out of his mouth like a venomous hiss; "......No." He didn't look at the furry creature, nor bother to elaborate further. He walked off down the sparsely populated boardwalk with murder in his eyes. Mac Lir appeared a moment later - with an entirely different destination in mind.


Neth the 12th, Sunday - 2:26 PM / AR 4732
Metropolitan City of Varisia; The City of Korvosa
Old Korvosa; Bridgefront - Greywalk



In AR 4722 The Restoration began in Bridgefront; A bold endeavor made to compete with the growing trade and popularity of the Crime Lord's playground - Seven-Arrows. The ambitious project was intended to use the old and derelict districts of the city, and convert them into productive havens of trade and education. The downtrodden homeless and poor were driven out of the area hastily, drastically warping Bridgefront into a thriving, bustling place of commerce and research. However, the dredges of society were thrown into the already neglected streets of The Shingles, birthing a pit of crime and villainy. While contained within the confines of the weaving streets and rooftops of the district, the location became uncontrollable. Criminal militia policed the streets, enforced their criminal laws - and didn't hesitate to cut down nosy guards who wandered too far. With little else to be done, the city official's silently handwaved the issue for now; giving free reign to the vicious men and women within. The councilmen made sure to include purging the blight from their city apart of The Restoration, yet the intensive time involved will likely not see that battle for many years to come. Only Bridgefront has been effected by this city-molding plan thus far, but new plans are always underway for further development.

From the beginning, the expanding of educational facilities and departments within the city had been a large part of the remodeling initiative to compete with Seven-Arrows which boasted dozens of guilds for craftsmen of every stripe. With great motivation, the city developed a robust and diverse society of arcane study. The employment of magic individually had fallen into dispractice with the dangers prevalent throughout the world and the difficulties which man had in controlling and creating such magical forces. Thus, wizards and practitioners of magic became somewhat rare and isolated to the higher echelons of society. Appealing to such an audience, even though they were a minority was a very lucrative marketing strategy - one which met with great success. With the rise of young rich magicians populating the renovated streets of the city district, facilities which supported and catered to the new wealth of their niche clientele swiftly rose to fill the gap in demand for arcane resources and venues. The result had been The Greywalk, the new center of Bridgefront. Filled to the brim with shops, restaurants, attractions and even dining places catering towards their young wealthy customers - it was an expensive lively place, and a hot spot for all students of the arcane which visited the city.

Therin and Hastur walked behind Mac Lir, who seemed to have some idea where he might be going - Though it was outside of Seven Arrows, the cultural popularity of the bustling metropolis to the south had spread a great deal of its influence within the minds of the new generation of magicians. Sharp and unfreindly eyes were drawn to the whiskered-face of the ratfolk. While there were a number of other 'demi-humans' about, tieflings and even a whimsical looking aasimar, the mentality was drastically different. Creatures with ties to the other planes were looked upon with a sense of curiosity or respect born from their magical or otherworldly origins, while the more mundane creatures were looked at with scorn. It was a clear line of racism; a line drawn in the sand by the prestigious and pompous minds of the proud peoples of Vornheim augmented by a measure of scholastic curiosity. The young students of Bridgefront at least made some distinction of who they discriminated against - a fact which was perhaps a step in the right direction versus the stigma held against all manner of demi-humans within Seven-Arrows, but it was still a troubling notion.

Mac Lir finally stopped in front of what appeared to be the type of location he was looking for... The ring of hammers and an eager crowd milled about in a plaza surrounded by a number of apprentice workshops. He could hear a number of the various passersby trying to guess what manner of creature he was, or his 'native plane'. The group stood out dramatically upon the streets, walking between walls of young robe-wearing humans, with their strange familiars and magic devices. A few of the students from the street pushed past them and into the plaza as they stopped, a young man begun to gesture at a large garden-gate which begun to crawl forward across the ground to close off the location. He glanced at the group, stopping to glower at Therin before taking note of the few alchemical items visible on his person. "...You're a strange one, my Skaven friend. The Grey Plaza is closed to the public today while the Archmagister conducts The Annual Review. If you're a student of the arts, you're welcome to conduct your business - just don't cause a ruckus during The Magister's review." The forges around the 40ft plaza came to a quiet as a procession of lavishly adorned scholarly looking individuals marched through an unexpectedly formed dimensional rift. The dark blue robes were accented with silver lacing and designs which varied with each of them. They gathered around a great marble table as a final cowled figure sauntered out of the rift clad in a simple and billowing white greatcloak. A tense silence gripped the crowd as the figure circled about the desk twice. She threw back her hood revealing a head of finally combed grey hair - yet though it appeared perfectly natural, as if by aging, her face appeared young. She brushed her hand over a large stack of packages filled with parchment, then brushed a finger across the table inspecting it and rolled her thumb and finger together as if inspecting for dust. She glanced at the cloaked procession and silently nodded in approval as she moved to the seat at the head of the table. The crowd broke into a silent, and relived, applause as if some ritual had been conducted and the whole thing could now move forward. The Archmagister took off her cloak and handed it to one of the wizards at her side, while another upon her other side handed her a massive looking wizardly hat/ It chimed and jangled with a great deal of strange magical seals. Her white dress was heavily adorned with similar golden seals of near identical nature. She pulled the seat back and opened one of the large envolopes upon the desk, which looked like a great deal of written papers - like a book without a cover.

From the interior of one of the open forges which circled the plaza a familiar face appeared. Though he appeared just as young as ever, perhaps no older then 25, the man was no doubt reaching his 56th year of age. His cloths were well maintained, though covered with soot, and the heavy leather apron he wore was singed and charged. He carried a large hammer in one hand still slightly red from the fires of his work. Lucian Bishop. He had retired from his duty as a Pathfinder nearly 6 years ago, but still kept close ties to the Society. He worked in Low Castle at times off commissioned work with his step-mother Candice Sterling. The man waved them over.

He gave Therin a pat on the back and shook Mac Lir's hand. "Two friends I did not expect to see this day, hah. I heard you had some business in Seven-Arrows, thought you might have gotten wrapped up in the mess in Low-Castle. Heard about some fake inquisitors or something tearing down the Sky Landing and rampaging through the streets. Bloody mess, that. What brings you north? Won't find much going on in Greywalk while the Archmagister is here; fear of repraisal, in an otherwise fearless community. Woman's got eyes in places people can't see, so everyone keeps on their toes for a day." After having retired from a successful career as Pathfinder, the man had become a Forgepriest, dedicating himself towards crafting unusual and strange devices of arcane and divine significance. The profession was not a profitable one, as the man seemed to only concern himself with constructing unusual devices which might only find use in a handful of hands - Still, his craftsmenship was remarkable.



Bishop Lucian - Forgepriest (ICONIC)


http://i.imgur.com/teLwJgi.jpg

[Mornings]

Part 2: Tapestry Of The Starless Abstract
Main Quest: New World Shadows
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (2) Low | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging | Diverge: (1) Astray
This world has changed... Perhaps for the worse. Something strange and terrible has been released upon the universe they thought they knew, while interfering with forces they could not hope to understand. From across The Dark Tapestry, a force has entered their world. An entity of sorrow and misery - but they cannot stop her alone. A new fate has been written for them, one written with a malicious hand to condemn them into perdition. But Raph'æl will not sit idly by while the world is brought unto ruin... There is a way. The wheels of fate begin to turn once more, but now the brave hero's must venture further then they've ever traveled before to undo the travesty of inevitable doom.

Main Quest: Paradise (ICONIC)(DIVERGENT)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (4) Vast | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging | Diverge: (1) Astray
Cayden is not an easy man to deal with. A liar. Criminal. Convict. Murderer. Pirate... He is a man who speaks one word while meaning another, weaving deceptive veils to befuddle his enemies. Yet, for perhaps the first time to any not of his crew, he's spoken the truth. The incomprehensible revelation shatters the former perceptions of stability the Pathfinders once possessed. Raph'æl could show them how to move forward, but he could show them how to move back. The terrors they had released from his home now threatened to doom this world to ruin. There were now many options before them - but the Sky Pirate simply offered a choice.

Quest (Complete): The Witch of Undercity
Raph'æl has gone into hiding. At his summons you have returned to the great city of Seven-Arrows. In search of the elusive Bechal Rossfield, Raph'æl's contemporary enemy and bitter rival - you set off in search of the faceless Witch of Undercity; Gal'bertel S'Sisery. While no one knows what S'Sisery looks like, it is no mystery as to where he dwells: Now each of you make for Romere's Tower, a heavily guarded mechanical-wonder which wandered about thickly crowded Lantern District. Possessing within it the only gate into Undercity. The Warren Trading Company closely manages all traffic in and out of the gate. Entering would prove no problem, but emerging from the city again would be another matter entirely...

(RECOVERED) Side Quest | ACT II: Crying Wild Bullet (Mythic)
Difficulty: (5) Extreme | Reward: (6) Unearthly | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
....The world they had known as has changed. The alterations within the streams of causality have left The Black Brand removed from Mac Lir's possession. All the work, sacrifice and suffering will be for not, unless the box is reclaimed. Only 'she' knows where within the past it has fallen.

(DISCOVERED) Side Quest | Hope Rides Alone (Solo) (Iconic)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (0) Minimal | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
Some manner of curse binds the strange woman known as 'The Abstract'. A curse of a nature and origin muddled in questions. However, the solution has been presented by the girl. A man, or beast, known only as Bloody Wolf lurks somewhere within The Kiln, surviving in the hostile and inhospitable environment. Other mysterious creatures lurk within his domain as well, a domain hidden somewhere within the bleak and grim expanses below. Though she did not explain further, for whatever reason, only one person would be capable of taking up her charge. No doubt, the answers would reveal themselves soon, including the curse which binds the quiet spiritly-witch. Only one thing was certain... Hope rides alone.

(DISCOVERED) Main Quest | Part I: Time As Abjection (Mythic Trial)
Difficulty: (6) Abyssal | Reward: (1) None | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (5) Cruelly Unusual
An unexpected blessing also brings with it an ill fate. Cast within an alternate World Line some place within the past, the truth of a new threat begins to reveal itself. July. the name brings with it dark tidings threatening to end all life within Golarion and all her sister planets. Though Vosper, now unveiled as the god Amaznen, without his divinity - the responsibility falls to The Pathfinders. The only way forward now lies within the past. To prevent the Calamity from existing at all, they had to save July to save themselves.

Side Quest | The Misbegotten Auspex - Part I: The Tongueless Masque
Difficulty: (2) Low | Reward: (1) None | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (5) Cruelly Unusual
Finding themselves contained within some fabricated stasis within a frozen realm of sub-existence. The displaced hero's finally encounter the strange and unknown deity of lore and time, who had passed quietly into obscurity after his ascension. Thought dead after vanishing into The Starstone, little is known on the forlorn deity. Though Vosper had warned them, they could not have prepared for the austere god's whimsical nature. Beneath the strangeness of the entity before them, only their cunning and wit will bring them back from the twisted realms of distorted existence. Calistril the 5th, Starday - 8:15 PM / AR 4719
The City of Absalom; The Cloister Of Gods
The Trail Of The Starstone; The Arcadian Ocean - Somewhere At Sea




[The Song Of The Beast - The Displaced Hero's:]
[Stredexon / Sitara / Pineme / Cerise / Khairos]

The Tongueless Masque: Riddle Of Chalices
All acts, actions, and non-actions (such as speaking) now possess a verbal or musical component. A Perform Check, or Profession Check (If you possess a music related profession) is required for any action - to include such things as Skill Checks which are not Perform or Profession. Words must be in rhyme or song. Movement must be in dance and timed step. Magical and mundane items must be used with dramatic timed motions as if performed upon stage, etc.

[Failed performances can result in spellblight, granting permanent blindness, deafness, muteness, or worse.]

Solve The Riddle of Chalices using your songs to uncover details



Sync Points
Sync Points are awarded for individual successful performances. These points are reduced by adversarial effects and failed performances. This pool functions as Pseudo-Hit Points during this quest. Being reduced to negative values begins to cause negative status effects which can be removed by spending Sync Points. Points may only be spent upon yourself to remove adverse effects.

Sitara Sync: 52 Points
Pineme Sync: 53 Points
Stredexon Sync: 0 Points
Cerise Sync: 0 Points
Khairos Sync: 0 Points



The sudden shift in musical rhythm seemed to shift the entire send a wave of energy across the cavernous world. Streams of light gleamed down parting the boundless void of space above. The night was divided and left cloven in two revealing a brilliant sky adorned with a dawning sun. The ghastly specters seemed to alter their dance, moving to the sounds of the displaced hero's. The strange god skipped around the large chalice as Pineme finished her poetic verse.

Without so much as a pause of hesitation, the man-god slammed down his heel upon the table, sending waves of dark light to extinguish the sun. He threw his head back and cackled in mad rhythmic laughter. With a clap of his hands, his instrument ruptured into a crash of echoing sound - an echo of his own laughter while he jumped into the air and the table followed him; specters heaved the table up upon their shoulders in timed movements. He soared forward in his jump, though moved through the air as if delayed by the very sound of his slim coat's flapping. The shadowy creature's brought the table in-line beneath him as he landed upon a knee upon its now elevated surface. Leering down upon Pineme from his perch, he snapped his fingers and pointed at the woman.



"Nay! We are forgon! Forgon of lighte; and skie; and so to sterri heven!
Such be thine fallacy; All left to be bereft - Even solempnite gost lien hoven!
That thy would approach, and bithink you've lim to be upstonden - Only leuednesse sheld thine miserie
No benisoun comes anightes - Or have thy foryeten?

Imagininge? What array to devise this compassement?
What wille dost thou conceite dwell?
concepcioun remains naught unreprevable, such is verreiment
Nor visioun to bear knotti visage

No eied with brode gaze
No such eied to be remiss
No eied with godgiven sighte
No eied would be waxen blight

Look on, doten amie!
Thy answere lay still unbidden!
Look on, doten amie!
Thy answere lay unshrouded!
The realm beckons your eye
Not the tigre, night, or skye!"

With a great slam of a hand, the table crashed down with a reverberating beat. The great cup rocked under him as he stood upright and pointed to the cloven sky. His gaze upon Sitara. The last beam of light shined down like a dying spotlight and he begun shaking his hips from side to side while suggestively lowing his arm to point at the woman's face.


"Oh, light. Oh, night. Of riddle and rhyme, acclaim and blame.
None here made to call you, yet clarity lingers out of view.
A challenge? Oh, challenger! Perhaps without this reign you'd be the same.
Meaningless-meaning. Soundless-song. Riddle-less Riddle. Rhymeless-rhyme."

He pranced off the table with a certain flare and stylish double step. He shook a finger in front of the woman's face with a beaming grin. The shadows danced as the light broke, shattered and snowed down like flecks of physical light. He spun around walking a backwards circle away and around the table, gesturing to the massive cup.


"So simple, without simplicity.
Pay no mind to the meaningless meaning, for only thrice may you sing
Perhaps better to yield, least you feel such a terrible sting
Simple is the question, as so simple may be this answer
You've only three-fold worlds to remain
But spectators make for a poor dancer
Fail upon this stage and you may wish you were slain
The crowd has naught mercy to spare
So, break, give-in, or muster some flare"

"Perhaps the first word, may be one's last. But one cannot forget or weave a twice cursed past.
Such simple simplicity. Such mindless mind. How much holds the chalice? Or will will you be deaf, dumb and blind?
Speak with haste, or soon woe will chase
Away all splendor"

He jumped away with a two-footed leap, crashing down upon the table with a violent chord. A crushing chord manifested by the large guitar which crashed into the world and into his hand. He streamed off a rift of strange, almost backward sounding chords on the off-beats of a chorus emanating from the would about them. The massive stone walls shuddered as the beat built momentum and carried forward. He raised his strumming hand in the air, looking over his shoulder. ".....The First." He brought his hand down with a crushing chord which unleashed a visible explosion of sound. The walls ruptured and crumbled. The sky shattered beneath the sonic assault, and the rocks fell down to splash in the tumultuous waters as the very ground beneath them disintegrated into nothingness, leaving only the black waters of an angry sea. The twinkle of cold stars shown down a dim light upon a moonless night above an Arcadian sea. There was no land as far as the eye could see, perhaps not for hundreds, if not thousands of miles in any direction. Those once standing splashed into the the black waters which churned. The table which Rossfield stood floated upon the water.


"You were a song that I couldn't sing.
you were a story I couldn't tell.
I've only ever loved myself
But I've loved myself so well.
And how defeated I return!
(you're nice and blue, you're nice and blue)
I missed what I was supposed to learn
as all I learned about was missing you."

He unleashed a series of powerful chords which turned the waters of the very ocean. Waves lapped up sharply, as if animated by the darkening sound of the man's song. Clouds begun to bank upon the sky in an unnatural circular manner, winding about in some growing cyclonic gray ring above.


"A life left half behind, though no longer
blind I can't yet see. I'm not the boy that
I once was, but I'm not the man I'll be.
I've been waiting now, for six years on
(and have only just begun)
For the day you'll hold her in your arms,
oh risen Lord, my precious one."

With a final crushing blow, a vicious chord brought down a violent hail of deafening lightning. Gale-force winds ruptured the night and clawed at the waters which lashed out with hateful waves. The clouds spiraled faster and faster, becoming some cyclonic rift blackening out the night sky like an abyssal wound cut into the very earth. The keening howl of the wind echoed and amplified the singing god's words and brought up massive waves the size of looming towers - greater then any ship. As if the very ocean were folding in upon itself a torrent of deathly walls of waves came careening down. The first blow crushed each of them below the water's surface with no place to hide from the great spire of water - Such a blow would have killed any man or creature, splattering any living being beneath a million tons of sheer weight, like the limb of some sea god. Beneath the waves, a shimmering maelstrom spun and cycled down into the deepest black of some nameless trench that lay between the tectonic edge of this underworld. Streams of silvery light spun about them within the under-sea. Bechal still stood upon the tilted and broken table, like it was the edge of a sinking ship, the chalice still held firmly in place. The airless world beneath the waves did not seem to hinder his song as his cries roared out through the aquatic world and from the terrible storm above.


"I was once the wine!
I was once the wine!
I was once the wine; and you the wineglass.
I was once alive!
I was once alive!
I was once alive; when you held me.

God became the glass,
all things left were emptiness
Oh, my little girl.
Oh, my little girl.
If you look out and see a trace of dark red that, used
to be my face; in the clarity of his grace: remember me."



Song Of The Maelstrom
The first song Rossfield played has cast the party into, and beneath the Arcadian Ocean. Super-massive waves pound above crushing all beneath the waves, while a strange gleaming maelstrom below the waves pulls the hero's down to the dark crushing depths. The sharply turning water of the sub-sea nightmare makes it very difficult to perform:

- All Skill Checks suffer a -5 Circumstance Penalty
- Performance Rolls made must be rolled twice, and the worse roll taken
- Performance Checks must be made in addition with any Action or Skill Check made
- A DC14 Swim Check must be succeeded, or risk being pulled into the bleak depths of the churning vortex




The Misbegotten Auspex
Bechal Rossfield
(ICONIC) (MYTHIC) (DIVERGENT)



http://i.imgur.com/xDIQN29.jpg

[Don nadie]

Khairos was surprised by the sudden influx of water, by the strong reaction of the maddened God. Hearing Sitara he had expected at least a possibility of salvation. Now, as the water rushed against him and pushed him towards the airless depth, the Al'Jinn was not so sure. He had never see so much liquid together, he had never even seen a wave. The water he'd known was that of fountains and of ponds, carefully shepherded to reflect the moonlight or to set the rhythm of a song.

Khairos extended both his arms. He knew he had to move, but he needed a rhythm... He tried to focus his mind not on the cry of the mad God, but on the memory of the fountains of Al'Kairhid, the water-stairs which ran down the terraced gardens. Each drop was doubled at each side of the stairs and each drop was followed by yet another. Swiftly, pacing to that rhythm, Khairos tried to resist the pull of the depths.

Once out, he breathed deeply, looking towards the table with his shimmering eyes. The rhythm of the water was within him, and when he spoke he did not following the voice of the maddened god, but the song of water running down. Calm and controlled, a thing of beauty and not of wrath. Khairos rose his voice:

Let us fill a glass
with the dread of our death,
then let's raise our voices
to cheer with our whole breath

The words came out as a defiance of Bechal rather than an actual answer. Khairos was trying to survive. He did his best to continue above water, moving his arms with the same rhythm and pulling himself over and over the raging waves.

To then drink, oh just drink,
to what's written in fate
for its either too soon
or its maybe too late.

There was a note of cheer in his voice, of abandon. After all, what could be done? He had died once, and this god was not going to intimidate him with the threat of blindness, deafness, endless silence. Because of Sitara's music, Khairos knew what they had to do. He swam slightly closer towards the table, trying to elevate himself a bit more, trying to see better.

Is this wine that's spilled
or is wine that's spoiled?
Is the chalice half-empty?
is it half-full with void?

Finally, Khairos pulled his gaze towards the glass to see. His arms burnt, unused to the exercice required to keep himself afloat. His breath was heavy, his legs were growing tired. Were they to die here? Khairos managed to sing a few more words with the music of the water-stairs. The chirpy and cheerful song of summer and joy.

One then looks in the glass,
what does one dare to see?
The secrets of a god
mad with infinity?

If he could only see.


Well... Khairos is not a poet and neither am I, so apologies for the rhyming!

Now, as for the rolls... We have the +10 from Sitara (still applies, right?) and the -5 from the damm god's song.

First things first, trying to survive.
Swim (+3): DC 14 [roll0]
Perform (+5): 1 [roll1]
Perform (+5): 2 [roll2]

Second things second: looking into the chalice.
Perception (+14): [roll3]
Perform (+5): 1 [roll4]
Perform (+5): 2 [roll5]

Also, a third set of Performance rolls (I guess used for speaking). Not sure, Mornings, if you need these ones... but they're all yours!
Perform (+5): 1 [roll6]
Perform (+5): 2 [roll7]

[forg99rules]

As Mac walked through the town towards his destination he ignored all the stares and whispers that people were giving him and his party.

Watching the procession Mac scoffs at everyones reaction to the Archmagisters appearance. He was never one for Inspections and thats exactly that a review was.

Seeing Bishop put some of Mac's fears at easy, Knowing that a fellow Pathfinder (even a retired one) was in the district could help him in finding what he was wanting. "Good to see you Bishop its been to long, Wish we had came at a better time Always hated inspections not much of a point in my field of work."

"Seven-Arrows, Man am i glad to be out of there, Barely escaped myself just wish the place hadn't gotten wrecked was a great town for my trade. But enough about those times, Maybe you can help me with finding what i need since all this chaos is going to make it almost impossible right now, I am looking for a Ring of Resistance preferably a strong one Also some Ioun stones for various effects. Know anyone who might have them for sale?"

[BizzaroStormy]

The encroaching aquatic darkness of the mad god's realm is another seemingly chaotic mess. He doesn't take much time for Stredexon to realize that all the factors culminating together are actually a careful arrangement. If this was a god of music, then rythm was going to be key. The angelic gunman tries to right himself in the torrent, his halo beginning to shine as he speak in rhythm with his swimming movements.


"So This what we got
a big aquatic knot
the creepin' darkness too
but my holy light shine through

Failure here's something we cant do
Cant you see it? cant you hear?
Whats happening is bigger than me or you.
something so big gods will fear.

I'll look inside your cup
We'll figure out whats up
Once we pass this test
You'll have to help with our quest."


Ok, first off is the swim check.
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

Trying to see in the chalice...
[roll3]
[roll4]
[roll5]


Just saw the rule that the perform checks need to be music base, i guess those will be like, singing instead of terrible comedy.

[Gunhaven]

Hastur floated silently after Mac, keeping an eye and ear out for the changing scenery. He made a note of the disapproval the townsfolk seemed to show toward Therin, amending it with the probable experience he’d receive if it wasn’t for his suit. The natives thought of him as a ghost and on some level he knew that he was, bound to the Divinity. With the help of actual time travel, though, all sorts of possibilities opened up. When they stopped in front of the group, Hastur clicked his tongue and landed with a light poof of dust.
He followed the crowd when the archmage appeared, clapping a second after everyone else and stopping a second after everyone else. It was best to not challenge the local custom right now, after all. He did, however, like the stacks of paper involved and wouldn’t mind reading through what was written; even if he wasn’t a scholar like the natives here he could still appreciate an individual who tracked progress. With a slight puff of dust he followed after Mac and awaited his response before he moved again.
He held out a hand in greeting, assuming that’s how people of similar rank did so here, and said in his hollow voice ”A pleasure to meet you…Bishop? I believe you must be a friend of a friend, as the saying goes. I am Hastur.” He glanced behind the man, looking him up and down, before he reached down with his free hand and pulled out one of his revolvers. He began again in the same tone, holding the revolver butt end toward the man, ”You look like quite the smith. Is there a chance I could get you to improve these? I’ve heard tale of weapons that use will instead of strength or dexterity.”

[Triskavanski]

"Why are ye all tryin ta get more magicked weapons and stones?Dinniye hear that there be magicked zones that be blowin up magicked items that ain't fortified against them?" Therin huffed "Thats what we be needin the most. Perhaps we kin fin ourselves one of these fortified bags." He didn't seem to fully recognize Bishop himself, 6 years ago was nearly forever for ratfolk after all. Even so, there was still some recognition. "So Bishop, thats what we truly be needin. Things that woonit go boom on us. Though I am not for dosh, and require somethin quick and fast ta get me funds up. Anyone should be knowin me skills at crafts alchemical.. Or would be commin ta know them real quick."

[Mornings]

Part 2: Tapestry Of The Starless Abstract
Main Quest: New World Shadows
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (2) Low | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging | Diverge: (1) Astray
This world has changed... Perhaps for the worse. Something strange and terrible has been released upon the universe they thought they knew, while interfering with forces they could not hope to understand. From across The Dark Tapestry, a force has entered their world. An entity of sorrow and misery - but they cannot stop her alone. A new fate has been written for them, one written with a malicious hand to condemn them into perdition. But Raph'æl will not sit idly by while the world is brought unto ruin... There is a way. The wheels of fate begin to turn once more, but now the brave hero's must venture further then they've ever traveled before to undo the travesty of inevitable doom.

Main Quest: Paradise (ICONIC)(DIVERGENT)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (4) Vast | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging | Diverge: (1) Astray
Cayden is not an easy man to deal with. A liar. Criminal. Convict. Murderer. Pirate... He is a man who speaks one word while meaning another, weaving deceptive veils to befuddle his enemies. Yet, for perhaps the first time to any not of his crew, he's spoken the truth. The incomprehensible revelation shatters the former perceptions of stability the Pathfinders once possessed. Raph'æl could show them how to move forward, but he could show them how to move back. The terrors they had released from his home now threatened to doom this world to ruin. There were now many options before them - but the Sky Pirate simply offered a choice.

Quest (Complete): The Witch of Undercity
Raph'æl has gone into hiding. At his summons you have returned to the great city of Seven-Arrows. In search of the elusive Bechal Rossfield, Raph'æl's contemporary enemy and bitter rival - you set off in search of the faceless Witch of Undercity; Gal'bertel S'Sisery. While no one knows what S'Sisery looks like, it is no mystery as to where he dwells: Now each of you make for Romere's Tower, a heavily guarded mechanical-wonder which wandered about thickly crowded Lantern District. Possessing within it the only gate into Undercity. The Warren Trading Company closely manages all traffic in and out of the gate. Entering would prove no problem, but emerging from the city again would be another matter entirely...

(RECOVERED) Side Quest | ACT II: Crying Wild Bullet (Mythic)
Difficulty: (5) Extreme | Reward: (6) Unearthly | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
....The world they had known as has changed. The alterations within the streams of causality have left The Black Brand removed from Mac Lir's possession. All the work, sacrifice and suffering will be for not, unless the box is reclaimed. Only 'she' knows where within the past it has fallen.

(DISCOVERED) Side Quest | Hope Rides Alone (Solo) (Iconic)
Difficulty: (4) Hard | Reward: (0) Minimal | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (1) Challenging
Some manner of curse binds the strange woman known as 'The Abstract'. A curse of a nature and origin muddled in questions. However, the solution has been presented by the girl. A man, or beast, known only as Bloody Wolf lurks somewhere within The Kiln, surviving in the hostile and inhospitable environment. Other mysterious creatures lurk within his domain as well, a domain hidden somewhere within the bleak and grim expanses below. Though she did not explain further, for whatever reason, only one person would be capable of taking up her charge. No doubt, the answers would reveal themselves soon, including the curse which binds the quiet spiritly-witch. Only one thing was certain... Hope rides alone.

(DISCOVERED) Main Quest | Part I: Time As Abjection (Mythic Trial)
Difficulty: (6) Abyssal | Reward: (1) None | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (5) Cruelly Unusual
An unexpected blessing also brings with it an ill fate. Cast within an alternate World Line some place within the past, the truth of a new threat begins to reveal itself. July. the name brings with it dark tidings threatening to end all life within Golarion and all her sister planets. Though Vosper, now unveiled as the god Amaznen, without his divinity - the responsibility falls to The Pathfinders. The only way forward now lies within the past. To prevent the Calamity from existing at all, they had to save July to save themselves.

Side Quest | The Misbegotten Auspex - Part I: The Tongueless Masque
Difficulty: (2) Low | Reward: (1) None | LoFP Challenge-Rating: (5) Cruelly Unusual
Finding themselves contained within some fabricated stasis within a frozen realm of sub-existence. The displaced hero's finally encounter the strange and unknown deity of lore and time, who had passed quietly into obscurity after his ascension. Thought dead after vanishing into The Starstone, little is known on the forlorn deity. Though Vosper had warned them, they could not have prepared for the austere god's whimsical nature. Beneath the strangeness of the entity before them, only their cunning and wit will bring them back from the twisted realms of distorted existence. Calistril the 5th, Starday - 8:15 PM / AR 4719
The City of Absalom; The Cloister Of Gods
The Trail Of The Starstone; The Arcadian Ocean - Somewhere At Sea




[The Song Of The Beast - The Displaced Hero's:]
[Stredexon / Sitara / Pineme / Cerise / Khairos]

The Tongueless Masque: Riddle Of Chalices
All acts, actions, and non-actions (such as speaking) now possess a verbal or musical component. A Perform Check, or Profession Check (If you possess a music related profession) is required for any action - to include such things as Skill Checks which are not Perform or Profession. Words must be in rhyme or song. Movement must be in dance and timed step. Magical and mundane items must be used with dramatic timed motions as if performed upon stage, etc.

[Failed performances can result in spellblight, granting permanent blindness, deafness, muteness, or worse.]

Solve The Riddle of Chalices using your songs to uncover details



Sync Points
Sync Points are awarded for individual successful performances. These points are reduced by adversarial effects and failed performances. This pool functions as Pseudo-Hit Points during this quest. Being reduced to negative values begins to cause negative status effects which can be removed by spending Sync Points. Points may only be spent upon yourself to remove adverse effects.

Sitara Sync: 30 Points
Pineme Sync: 30 Points
Stredexon Sync: -31 Points (Curse:30)
Cerise Sync: 0 Points
Khairos Sync: -29 Points

(CURSE OF DISHARMONY)
Curses are strange effects bestowed upon reaching certain ranks of negative sync (disharmony) with the world. These abilities function as effects with the curse sub-type and may be targeted and effected by any ability or effect with targets a 'curse' - to include Remove Curse. The duration of these abilities is is permanent or until removed. Curses of Disharmony are immediately lost when the effected creature's sync no longer meets or exceeds the required value of that curse. These abilities are randomly determined, and a curse at one level does not mean it will always apply the same effect at that level. The same curse may be gained multiple times, its effects stack with itself.

Curse of The Bathetic Minstrel #1 (Stredexon)
The poor minstrel Talzain was known for the quality of his skill. So terrible was the young man at his craft, his very name spread wide, infecting the theaters and taverns of Oppera with his notoriety. He found employment after failing to enter The Kith - rejected flatly and outright. While the world laughed at the comedy of the man's zeal and earnest efforts... The only one who did not realize whose head the joke lay, was Talzain himself. The bardic professor to which he performed, and was so curtly dismissed was stunned by the Talzain's sense of self importance. "How can you reject The Great Talzain! My name is known across the land!" He said. The Professor shook his head. "Poor Talzain. You are a joker, the fool. The punchline of man's cruel joke. Men laugh not at your play at comedy, but thy lack of ability. Men will not sing of you, and just as these passing words - you will be soon forgot" The words destroyed Talzain. He stormed away in rage and despair. All minstrels feared only they would be forgotten - If all his years were naught but some sick joke. If all laughter was but a mockery... He'd accomplished, nothing. Climbing the steeple of the massive theater overlooking The Kith. He begun to play with a dread an fury unlike anything he'd felt before. He'd never heard the song, never even played the viola in such a way.... but the dark haunting tune of the infernal hymn filled the air. With unearthly skill, he watched his hands move, as if possessed. Masters and students alike were held in awe at the terrifying display as the dirge seemed to cloak the sky in a veil of gray clouds. Then he finished. The rain poured down, he was not a stooge. He would have the last laugh.

....Or so he thought. The songs still sing of Talzain, and how he slipped and fell to his death upon the cobbled streets below. They sing of the blood and rain, the clouds he brought. Sometimes even of devils and other tall tales. But none ever leave out the curse he left behind.

When performing an action, a soft audible dirge begins to play. This music manifests from the cursed creature and applies a -20 to the creature's stealth and sleight of hand checks. Additionally, the creature must move to the tune of the music or be plagued by visions of terrible and nightmarish creatures.

When making an action, or skill check, the creature cursed must succeed a Perform Check (DC = HD+1d20). If the Perform Check is failed, the cursed creature looses that action and begins laughing diabolically for 1 round. This laughter takes the place of the lost action and lasts for 1 Round per action lost, the duration is extended for each failed action. While laughing the creature gives off a visible evil aura, and is treated as if his alignment was evil. Good creatures within 10ft of the effected creature must attempt to pass the cursed creature's last Perform Check or be staggered for 1d4 Rounds and Nauseated until they leave the creature's 10ft aura.



If even for an instant, they could peer within the shimmering golden goblet. At first, it was as if simply peering within a great and boundless expanse of white light. Blinding. It was as if there was nothing save for the streams of manifested luminance. Perhaps it was the sky of some distant dawning world.... Yet, it grayed, then blackened, becoming nothing more then some deep crimson colored pool filling the vial to its very rim - almost overflowing. That was what they could make out, before the torrents caught hold of them.

Cerise watched as her allies attempted to fight the churning waves, fighting the consuming void in tandum with the chorus of the music. Yet, it was all for naught. Some swam perfectly, but could not time their motions with the sounds of the world - other stretched out with perfectly timed motions, but were hardly strong enough swimmers to resist the pull of the ocean's waves. Ripped away with violent fury, the whirling pool grasped them, and spun them about as they were dragged into the darkest depths of the bleak and crushing abyss. Haunting chorus filled their ears as the darkness and pressured swelled around them. Strange and eerie passing visions of pale faces slashed out and spun about them within the clashing kaleidoscope of sound and darkness. They crashed into each of them ripping something from their bodies without physical contact, without even damaging the fabrics of their cloths. The golden gleaming bubbles of energy bleed out from them, and was stolen by the weird specters dwelling beneath the waves. Stredexon shuddered, as his body begun to grow cold - light poured out from him as the creatures claws hacked through him like an illusionary mist. Strange visions filled his mind, and a maddening laughter drowned his thoughts.



Song Of The Maelstrom
(Players who failed are still effected by this Song)
The first song Rossfield played has cast the party into, and beneath the Arcadian Ocean. Super-massive waves pound above crushing all beneath the waves, while a strange gleaming maelstrom below the waves pulls the hero's down to the dark crushing depths. The sharply turning water of the sub-sea nightmare makes it very difficult to perform:

- All Skill Checks suffer a -5 Circumstance Penalty
- Performance Rolls made must be rolled twice, and the worse roll taken
- Performance Checks must be made in addition with any Action or Skill Check made
- A DC14 Swim Check must be succeeded, or risk being pulled into the bleak depths of the churning vortex

[BizzaroStormy]

Somehow managing to shrug off the effects of the curse for the moment, Stedexon manages to vocalize a couple bars before making his attempt to keep afloat in the musical torrent. An attempt that quickly goes south as he seems to sputter and choke on his own notes, causing his body to be pulled further into the chantey sea.



Perform Check DC: [roll0]
Perform (Singing) Checks to prevent me from losing my action [roll1] [roll2]

Assuming I pass that,

Perform (singing) to allow me to attempt a swim check: [roll3] [roll4]
The actual Swim check should I pass that: [roll5]

[Don nadie]

The Vortex calls Khairos. Not merely with its pull of water and current, but with beat of its own. Surrender, it says, is easy. To fight, it says, is pointless. Khairos had at first trouble not falling down. He was going deeper and deeper, his lungs filling with water for what seems an eternity. Out of nowhere, however, the Al'Jinn manages to pull some additional strenght. He braces with force, following the rhythm of the Vortex and the Mad God's music, but forcing himself to swim above the surface. Another eternity. His vision is blurry. He hasn't breathed for far too long. He closes his eyes and yet, in the darkness, he hears the beat and moves his arms again.

Air rewards him. He coughs the water and looks arround, somewhat dazzled but quickly recovering. The situation is still dire as the God continues singing and the water rages and the chalice... What in Lightning's Name does this chalice contain? He tries to move closer, as fast as he can. He concentrates completely, absolutely, entirely, on coming closer to the chalice to see better. To distinguish what it contains. He is now flying, twirling in artistic patterns that attempt to be just like a dance towards the table and the mysterious cup.

But, will he get there? He has a cry in his throat, ready to yell whatever he sees...