"There is no armor in the world that can guard someone from the keen edge of vengeance unclaimed." - Khari the Viper, Mzalin sword instructor
14th Eras, 4721 AR
Old Thassilonian highway, central Varisia
Varisia was about as varied a country as one could expect to find when it came to geography. From coastal lowlands to several deep forests, from the sweeping northern plateaus to the southern swamps, the vast land of Varisia had something for everyone for both good and ill.
Asaf and Temperance were following an ancient road crafted by the Thassilonians that was still quite traversable. Off to their right, a stone's throw away, were the dark eaves of the Churlwood, home to giant spiders, various goblin tribes, and to the very unlucky, a green dragon or two. To their north was a gently sloping floodplain of the Lampblack River, broken up by the jagged remnants of one of the countless ruins that dotted Varisia. If Asaf's eye was correct, and it usually was on such things, the cluster of stout, utilitarian buildings, crumbling they may have been, appeared to be of the purview of the old Runelord of Sloth, Krune.
Curious. Asaf thought to himself. We're a good distance away from what would have once been Haruka. Why would Krune's architecture be here? Hm. Likely contracting out slave labor and architects. Yes, that would make sense. Haruka would have a surplus of slaves. It fits well with the Runelord of Sloth's predilection towards…well, slothful behavior.
The ruins of Old Thassilon were incredibly common across Varisia, for it was once the heart of that empire. New Thassilon, which took up what was once northern Varisia, was nowhere near as domineering and given to evil as its ancient predecessor. Queen Sorshen made New Thassilon a safe haven for exiles of all kinds, and the patron deity of the young nation was none other than Nocticula the Redeemer Queen. Given that Varisia was more of a region rather than an organized nation, there had been little conflict over the formation of New Thassilon.
Asaf was getting the chance to use a favorite artifact of his for the first time in a while. It had been a gift from one of his fathers, Ahtasaf, the day Asaf had been accepted into the Pathfinder Society. The item was a horseshoe made of electrum. When its command word was spoken and the horseshoe tossed at the ground, a horse with a pale gold coat was summoned, saddled and ready to ride. Asaf had named the horse Khamsa after the horse of Venture-Captain Salim Djamilash, one of the most famous Pathfinders to come out of Qadira and Asaf's personal hero (though he would tell few people of such childish idolization nowadays).
Beside Asaf, Temperance was astride a mighty grey destrier with a dappled coat and a glossy main that glinted like steel in the sun. The tiefling said his horse's name was simply Oath, a gift granted by Ragathiel for Temperance's conduct and triumph in the holmgang against Arjyk Shield-Splitter. Now, the two were riding through a warm, humid summer's day, bound for the town of Ravenmoor.
"Sir Temperance, I'm quite sure she hasn't responded in the last twenty minutes." Asaf said, looking over at his partner.
Tem's hand was straying towards his bag of holding.
"Eh?" The tiefling grunted.
Asaf suppressed a snort. Tem really had no idea how much of an open book he was.
"You've been fishing that journal out of your bag several times an hour ever since you received it. You musn't make Lady Violetta think you're desperate by replying the moment you hear from her each time." Asaf advised. Silly as it was, it was frankly a delight to see a big, heavily scarred Crusader like Tem acting like a lad with his first crush.
Tem pursed his lips, taking Oath's reins in both hands once again. "Can't reply while we're riding, anyway. And why do you act like you know so much about this stuff?"
"Because I do." Asaf replied, easily. "You and I have been moving from place to place with more frequency than I normally prefer. Usually, I have ample time for the courting and cavorting that is my preferred past time. But you and I, Sir Temperance, are after vastly different forms of courtship."
"You're talking out of your arse, Halo. I don't even know what that means. There's more than one?" The tiefling muttered.
"I have no more desire than to meet beautiful people wherever we go and, hopefully, share some wine before sharing a bed with them for a night or two." Asaf said wistfully. "You, sir, are the hopeless romantic sort whose heart can only belong to one person at a time. I may not be personally familiar with that feeling, but I know it when I see it."
"I've never really had to think about anything like this." Temperance said, scratching at black hair that was growing rather long. "Haven't really had to think about much of anything for a long time. It was always the Crusade and that was it. The past month has been almost like waking up."
"You're telling me you never even thought about having a dalliance with some fair comrade in the Crusade to celebrate a victory?" Asaf asked.
Tem shook his head. "No. Never been one for meeting lasses in taverns or going to brothels, either. Just never been very important to me, I guess." The tiefling rotated his neck on his shoulders, joints clicking.
Asaf couldn't even begin to imagine that life. But, thankfully, he didn't have to. If Tem wanted to live that way, that was his business. At least it meant they wouldn't be competing over anyone for the duration of their partnership.
"Well, then, Sir Temperance, if I might make a suggestion, it would be a good idea to do some thinking. Begin unlocking who you yourself are now beyond the Crusade, weaponscraft, and your devotion to Ragathiel. Know yourself first. Perhaps go back to an old hobby?" Asaf mused.
Tem blinked. "Hobby…hm…"
"You can't tell me you've no hobbies. What about reading?" Asaf asked, beginning to suspect he'd stepped into something much deeper than initially anticipated.
"Nah, books put me to sleep." Tem replied with a shake of his head.
"Singing, perhaps? Or an instrument?" Asaf suggested, trying to hide his growing concern..
"My singing sounds like the ass end of a dying sheep." Tem answered with a chuckle. "And I've broken every instrument I've tried."
"Poetry, then?"
"Still trying to find something that rhymes with 'orange.'"
"What about dancing? Everyone enjoys dancing in some form."
"Does combat footwork count?"
Asaf dragged his palm over his face and sighed. Merciful Sarenrae, this was a test if there ever was one.
"Alright, how about this." Asaf said, raising a finger. "Was there anything that helped you through the Crusade? Other than drinking. Or, maybe something you enjoyed before you left for the Crusade."
Tem paused to think about that, his hands idly fiddling with Oath's reins. "Uhm…hm…now that you mention it, I did used to like telling old stories back with the caravan. Guess I did quite a bit of that during the Crusade."
Fighting back an audible sigh of relief, Asaf pointed and said, "there you are. Storytelling! You should pursue that next time you have the chance. Think of new ones while we travel."
"Huh. Guess so." Tem said in a deep, quiet rumble as he became lost in thought.
"Your devotion to duty and protecting others is admirable, Sir Temperance, but in my experience, life is only worth living if you do something for yourself every now and again…or more frequently, even." The aasimar snickered, shifting in the saddle to get more comfortable.
Tem nodded silently, but his black eyes were distant now. Asaf let the conversation end there. The ride continued quietly.
14th Eras, 4721 AR
Ravenmoor, Varisia
Ravenmoor was oddly quiet. It was not a large village by any stretch of the word, but even so, it seemed only half full, with not quite one-hundred residents making it their home. Several of the outlying farmsteads and huts were abandoned and overgrown. Asaf asked a few people on the subject, but only received some mutterings about business with a cult and something to do with shapeshifters. It seemed adventurers took care of it somehow. The village seemed friendly enough either way.
The village's only tavern was called the Skewered Spider, which was only slightly disturbing. It was little more than a room with a packed dirt floor covered in dry rushes, lit by a few oil lanterns. The bar was just barrels full of sand with a few boards laid across it, the small scattering of tables clearly roughly hewn by what passed for a local carpenter.
Asaf enjoyed the finer things in life. When he was someplace that could reasonably provide such a thing, he didn't think it was unreasonable to expect the best. However, Asaf knew that expecting a bottle of the finest Taldoran cognac from a place like this did indeed cross over the line into the territory of "unreasonable."
The Spider mirrored Ravenmoor at large, being less occupied than one would expect the sole tavern of a settlement to be in a given evening. The tavern was kept by an aging woman in a homespun tunic and trousers joined a girl in her late teens, likely the relation of the proprietor, in a woolen dress and old apron.
"Ale and food, if you please." Asaf said as he and Temperance entered the Spider. He dug out a gold coin and flipped it to the older woman behind the bar. "And a room, if you have one."
"We do at that, sir." The barkeeper said, looking with bright eyes at the gold coin she had caught. She did not seem fazed by the two of them, but that wasn't unusual. Adventurers were common in Varisia compared to the rest of Avistan. There was no central governing body to have to worry about, and only a few locally powerful polities. Combining that with the abundance of Old Thassilonian ruins and other mysteries pervading Varisia, it was unsurprising that so many adventurous souls were drawn to the Birthplace of Legends.
As if to drive that point home, other than the half-dozen humans quietly patronizing the Skewered Spider, there were two others seated against the back wall. One was a drow woman clad in what had to be silksteel, a specially treated weave of webbing from giant spiders crafted into impressively durable light armor. She had a tall and somewhat lanky build, with the unmistakable muscles in her shoulders and arms of an archer. Most curious, perhaps, was the emblem hanging from a chain around her neck; the winged ankh symbol of Sarenrae.
A drow worshiping the goddess of the sun. That's…well, the first I've seen of that. Asaf thought.
Across from the drow woman was a goblin. The diminutive green humanoids were common in Varisia, too, but they usually kept to the forests. The tribes were as varied as the larger nations of the Inner Sea Region. Some were friendly with outsiders, others were hostile on sight. What was not common, however, was a goblin looking like this one.
The goblin was garbed in a short red jacket emblazoned with an emblem of crossed, curved swords. Several belted straps secured his sleeves and pant legs. Beyond this, the goblin had a broad, oblong head with a wide mouth and beady red eyes. Several small, golden studs pierced both his long, notched ears. He was speaking to the drow, who was listening intently over a leather jack of ale.
A Sarenite drow and a goblin wearing the uniform of an Aldori Swordlord. Asaf thought, rubbing his chin as the serving girl brought them two jacks of ale, along with some bread, hard cheese, and sausage.
"Thank you." Temperance said, drinking deep, then starting in on the food with his eating knife.
"Yes, indeed, my thanks." Asaf concurred, picking up his ale and hazarding a drink. As expected, it was rather bland. "Save me a bit of that food, Sir Temperance. I shall be right back."
"Mmhmm." The tiefling replied with a mouthful, his tail lazily waving behind him.
Asaf carried his ale over to the table where the drow and goblin sat. The Skewered Spider was not nearly large or loud enough to have a private conversation, but that was alright. A greeting formed in Asaf's mind and he opened his mouth to speak it when the drow woman cut him off.
"Dhrak, would you look at that. You've drawn the strangest man in the tavern again. You'll have to tell me your secret." She said, smirking but not yet looking up at Asaf.
The prepared words fell flat on Asaf's tongue, thrown as he was by this woman's unexpected boldness. Wasn't unexpected boldness his job?
"Ain't sure it's a secret on my part, Miss Scaelia." The goblin, Dhrak, said. "Just Cayden's own luck."
"I…beg your pardon?" Asaf managed to say.
"There's no need for begging, sir, unless you're into that sort of thing." The drow went on, turning her gaze on Asaf. Her eyes were entirely white. The sides of her head had been shaved at one point, now only a stubble, the silver hair on top of her head ending in a long braid.
Asaf cleared his throat. "No, I simply wished to come over and introduce myself. You have the look of adventurers about you. My partner and I are, as well. Pathfinders, as it were. My name is Asaf. Some call me the Worldwalker."
Dhrak sniffed. "That don't ring any bells for me, mate, sorry."
"As in, Lord Asaf Yasin, author of 'On Absalom and It's Wonders?'" Scaelia asked. She didn't sound impressed, but at least she wasn't mocking him.
Asaf smiled. "Indeed, though that is my early work. I really should pen an update."
"Yes, I would agree. Your chapter detailing the influence of the end of Minkaian trade isolationism over Absalom's economic reach overstates a lot." Scaelia said, then added. "No offense intended. I just think you didn't take enough account of the near simultaneous shift in Chelaxian trade with Ravounel's secession and Lastwall's fall."
Asaf's brow furrowed. "I beg your most sincere pardon, Miss Scaelia, but Lastwall was essentially self-sufficient, an economic non-issue. As for Ravounel, I admit it caused a fair amount of shift, but it altered paths, not destinations. Absalom is still the primary destination. The end of Minkaian isolation has opened an entirely new market."
"Hmm…perhaps…", Scaelia murmured, idly tapping her chin, the glitter in her eyes suggesting she cared little for being correct and more for the debate itself, which annoyed Asaf for some reason. This was balanced out by his, admitted, curiosity about this woman increasing. A sun worshiping drow with clear knowledge of the surface world was…unusual, to say the least.
Dhrak cleared his throat, then, "was, uh, there somethin' you needed, m'lord?"
"Right." Asaf said, composing himself. "I merely wished to make friendly conversation and introduce myself. And, I admit, you had the look of adventurers and I was curious as to what brought you to Varisia. You are welcome to join us at our table, if you wish. Just don't touch my partner's food. He gets very stabby."
"I can hear you, Halo." Temperance grunted between bites.
"I am aware, Sir Temperance." Asaf responded.
"Certainly." Scaelia said, rising lazily from her seat.
Dhrak hopped down as well. They moved with Asaf and sat down at the table where Temperance was making short work of his share of dinner.
"Evening." Tem said. "Name's Temperance. Crimson Templars."
"Scaelia Oussath. Of the Jorredaz Oussaths, for what that's worth. Though, They also call me Scaelia Deepsun." The drow explained.
Finally, the goblin at the table said, "Dhrak Cailean-Aldori. And, since I know you're gonna ask; I was raised in a Caydenite orphanage so I took Cayden Cailean's name, as is tradition, and yes, I am a member of House Aldori all proper like."
Asaf, who had, indeed, been about to ask, closed his mouth. The Aldori Swordlords of Rostland, one of Brevoy's two constituent nations, were legendary across Golarion as some of the finest duelists to ever take up the sword. They were half noble family, half warrior order. Anyone who could endure the training and pass the trials to become a Swordlord was officially adopted into House Aldori. Those people were not common.
"I met some Swordlords in the Worldwound. Damn good fighters." Tem commented. Brevoy was in northeastern Avistan, just across the Lake of Mists and Veils from the Crusader Kingdom of Mendev, which had been the foundation of the Crusades against the Worldwound.
"I just earned my jacket a couple years ago or I woulda been there, too." Dhrak said with some small regret. "But, not like there's a shortage of folks and beasties who need a sword stuck in 'em now that it's over."
"It's not something to regret missing." Tem uttered, taking a drink.
"To answer your question from a minute ago, Halo", Scaelia changed topics, clearly relishing the scowl that Asaf produced when she used the nickname, "My home city, Jorredaz, is just beneath Restov, Rostland's capital. I met Dhrak in Restov and he kindly volunteered to join and guard me as I travel the surface world. I'm writing a chronicle, you see."
This piqued Asaf's interest for obvious reasons. "Really? To what end?"
"To normalize the surface to my fellow drow living in the Darklands." Scaelia answered. "Half the reason there's little travel between our two worlds is lack of understanding and fear of the unknown. Most surfacers think the average drow is a kidnapper stalking people in the night because slavers are the only ones that commonly come up here."
"We're in Varisia 'cause Miss Scaelia's wantin' to look at Old Thassilony…Thassilyny…", Dhrak tried to say.
"Thassilonian." Scaelia said.
"Yeah, those old ruins that are all 'round the place here." The goblin explained.
"Temperance and I are bound for one such ruin that is supposed to be remarkably intact. It's deep in the Sanos Forest, far from the Sanos gnome communities. I found reference to it in an old journal in the Kintargo Pathfinder Lodge." Asaf said to them. "I don't see why the two of you couldn't join us."
"Why do you two seek these ruins?" Scaelia queried.
"For the treasure, of course." Asaf replied with a bright smile.
"Dhrak already has to protect me. Skilled as he is, I don't think he'll be able to protect you, too." Scaelia snickered.
Asaf bristled at the provocation. Temperance just guffawed.
"Sir Temperance and I can handle ourselves just fine, I'll have you know." Asaf said.
"No, I said 'you, too', as in you, Halo. Sir Temperance certainly looks like he can handle himself." The drow said with a nod to Tem.
"Too kind." Tem said into his ale. "But, spoken like someone who hasn't seen him in a scrap." The tiefling tilted his head towards Asaf, for which the aasimar was grateful.
"You, Miss Scaelia, appear to be quite adept at blending all my components into a most frustrating spell." Asaf said haughtily.
"Well, good, that's what I'm trying to do, so…", Scaelia shrugged and laughed, finishing her own ale and standing up. "Sadly, you caught us just as I was about to be off to bed. I'll see you all in the morning. Good evening, Sir Temperance, Messer Dhrak, Halo." She gave a slight bow then shuffled off.
Asaf watched her go, frustration at agreeing to bring this rapscallion of a woman along without thinking it over bubbling in his belly. "How do you put up with that attitude, Messer Dhrak?"
"Eh? Oh, she does that. Likes to pick a victim to get a rise out of 'em. Ain't nothin' personal, m'lord." Dhrak assured him. "Been interestin', travelin' with Miss Scaelia. Damn sight better than sittin' 'round Restov bored all the time."
"I see", Asaf said neutrally. He had picked at his food enough that his hunger was sated. "Well, I believe I shall retire to my notes for a while."
"I'll finish your food, then." Tem said.
"As was my assumption. Good evening to you both." Asaf left the table, received a room key from the woman at the bar, then proceeded down a hallway to their accommodations. It was little more than a square room with a couple of straw mattresses, but the straw looked fresh and didn't smell rotten so that was a plus. There was no desk or anywhere else to actually go over his notes or get writing done, so Asaf just laid down early, instead.
Such an infuriating woman. He thought to himself. And yet, she is clearly quite learned.
Mentally, Asaf began preparing for the fencing of wits that no doubt awaited him in the coming day. Hopefully, they would run into something that needed a violent response. Asaf was starting to understand why Tem seemed to enjoy hitting things so much.
After some time, Temperance shuffled in and fell into the other mattress in the room. Asaf drifted off to sleep not long after.
15th Eras, 4721 AR
Old Thassilonian highway, central Varisia
As they drew closer and closer to the Sanos Forest, Varisia's plains were gradually becoming more and more forested. The sound of birdsong was growing more frequent, and more than once Asaf found himself the victim of eager mosquitos.
Scaelia and Dhrak had been traveling on foot. Now, the goblin rode behind Temperance on Oath's back, while Scaelia was with Asaf. The aasimar had hoped for the opposite arrangement, but to his surprise, Scaelia was silent for the first couple of hours. It turned out she had taken advantage of the chance to sleep.
At one point, the four adventurers passed by a Varisian caravan on the move. It was a large clan of almost one-hundred people, their large, finely wrought wagons rattling down the road in a long procession. Their garments tended to be bright and multicolored, replete with long skirts or baggy pants, loose shirts and vests. Bandanas were very common as well. Temperance hailed one of the outriders at the lead of the caravan; a short, strongly built woman with olive skin. Tem spoke with this woman in Varisian, the adventurers waiting on the side of the road while the caravan went past. Everyone dismounted and stood in the tall grass on the road's embankment. Dhrak was taking the opportunity to go through sword drills, much to the delight of the caravan's children.
"The idea of being nomadic has always fascinated me." Scaelia said quietly, making Asaf twitch in surprise. It was the first sound she'd made since leaving Ravenmoor.
"Are you not nomadic right now, more or less?" Asaf asked.
"Not really." Scaelia disagreed with a shake of her head. "It's true, I've been wandering around the surface for about twenty years. I left shortly after my hundredth birthday. However, I've always had a home in Jorredaz that I can return to whenever I want. Do they consider the caravan their home, or the people in it, I wonder?"
"You know, you could ask Sir Temperance these things later. He was raised in a caravan." Asaf revealed.
"Truly? Hm. Maybe I will." Scaelia mused.
"If I may, Miss Scaelia, what volumes have you written? Do you have an area of expertise?" Asaf queried, trying to be polite. Perhaps if she was focused on herself, Scaelia would not be able to torment him as easily.
"I tend to focus on the surface equivalents of important parts of drow culture." Scaelia answered. "Most drow society tends toward being matriarchal, though some city-states are zealously so to point of fault, unfortunately. We also often live with our extended families, which can be quite extended indeed, given how long we live. There are some surface cultures who do these things, but it's not as common as I expected."
One-hundred and twenty years old. Asaf was only a quarter of that, and would live to see one-hundred and sixty if he was lucky. He knew, of course, that among all subraces of elves, a person was not even considered or treated as an adult until their first century was behind them, like a human reaching the last years of their teens. It was hard to consider Scaelia a "young" woman, now knowing this information, but the logical part of Asaf's mind knew that, technically, she was.
"Your people should probably avoid Taldor, then. You'll find it to be the utter opposite of what you're used to." Asaf suggested. "Very patriarchal and with a strict sense of individual independence. Asking for a helping hand is essentially running into the street and crying out, 'I'm weak, take what I have.'" The aasimar scoffed. "Backward fools. It's little wonder their empire is still crumbling."
"You'll forgive me if I don't trust a Qadiran noble to have an unbiased opinion on Taldor." Scaelia said dryly. Her attitude had shifted to something more serious.
Asaf inhaled quietly. Taldor was immediately north of Qadira, the shared border having moved countless times over many years of conflict between the two nations. There was an uneasy peace at present.
"Taldor's nobility will fracture to infighting under Grand Princess Eutropia. They won't stand a woman on their throne for long, especially one so young. Qadira will have its due. We'll crush them so thoroughly that it will end the conflict for good." Asaf said confidently. He, of course, did not speak aloud what many Qadiran nobles thought; that victory of Taldor would give Qadira the strength to finally break away from the Padishah Empire of Kelesh. Of course, catch was the Emperor would need to grant permission for such an invasion of Taldor, and he was thus far reluctant to do so…
"Bragging about bloody conquest and subjugation like it's right as the rain? Very heroic, indeed, Halo." Scaelia quipped, and this time there was no playfulness to her prodding.
Asaf felt very real anger well up in his chest, and it was a struggle to keep his voice down. He managed, but barely, and his voice was a hiss. "You have no idea what Taldor has visited on my homeland, the atrocities they've stacked against us for centuries. My only regret is I wasn't there to see Grand Prince Stevian perish."
"And I suppose Qadira has been nothing but a satrapy full of saints during all these disagreements? Or, at least, Qadiran brutality has been justified?" Scaelia asked rhetorically, crossing her arms.
"You…just…", Asaf spluttered, not sure how he could make this infuriating woman understand. Had he been too lenient with people casually disrespecting his station as a noble, Asaf wondered? He'd never have to deal with these things back home.
"Don't misunderstand me, Lord Asaf. I'm not trying to say that Qadira is the only one that's done anything wrong here." Scaelia went on. "But you're a noble. One day you'll be helping rule Qadira, in whatever capacity you will as Emir of Al Tamaya. Do you want to spend all your time abroad trying to make the world better as a Pathfinder only to be a warmonger back home?"
His lips becoming a thin line, Asaf looked away from Scaelia. The drow seemed to realize the conversation was over and shrugged, looking off into the distance.
The Varisian caravan was finished passing by. At some point, the outrider had left and returned with something wrapped in cheesecloth, handing the bundle to Temperance. The tiefling put it in his saddlebag with profuse thanks and well wishes. Once the Varisians had cleared the road, everyone mounted back up. Scaelia seemed to have no issue getting back in the saddle behind Asaf, though the aasimar himself felt rather awkward.
"Heh, they had some good news. They met my clan in Nirmathas. Apparently my people went up along the northern plateaus, bound for New Thassilon." Temperance was saying, smiling happily, though the expression faded when he saw Asaf's face. "Something wrong?"
"Pay me no mind. Let us keep on our way." Asaf suggested.
Tem nodded, tapping his heels into Oath's flanks. The two horses began trotting down the road.
Asaf became lost in thought as they rode. What was it about Scaelia's words that were sticking so resolutely in Asaf's mind like a thorn in his side? It was just like Tem browbeating him back in Absalom, and after the Fumbler's Tumbler in Kintargo. It seemed like ever since Asaf had gotten back into the proverbial saddle of being a Pathfinder, he'd started running into arguments and disagreements at every turn. It hadn't been like this with his old bodyguard.
I'm growing tired of somehow always saying the wrong thing. Asaf thought to himself with a sullen frown. He tried to let his mind wander elsewhere, to forget these troubles. He was doing what he loved, wasn't he? Asaf was about the work of a Pathfinder, his truest calling. It was no use. Scaelia's words needled into the recesses of Asaf's mind.
Do you want to spend all your time abroad trying to make the world better as a Pathfinder only to be a warmonger back home?
Asaf would argue that the world would be better off without Taldor. Very few people outside of Cheliax would argue the fact that Golarion would be better off without them.
Cheliax is a slave driven empire full of literal devils, Asaf. Even you cannot make that comparison in good faith. The aasimar thought to himself.
As the ride toward the Sanos Wood continued, Asaf continued to follow these mental paths, his mind drifting to other events in his past. Come to think of it, he really couldn't remember the last time his fathers, Emirs Ahtasaf and Zulfikar, never really spoke of Taldor for good or ill. Al Tamaya was centrally located within Qadira, far from the front. The last war against Taldor had been almost two-hundred years before Asaf's birth. Had Asaf's ancestors sent troops to that war? Was the silence of his fathers a statement all its own? The two of them had attended the same academies their son had, learned the same history, and heard the same rhetoric from instructors of scholarship and martial skill. "You will be the generation that brings the Dawnflower's sun to Taldor", old Instructor Aziz enjoyed saying. How long had that been said?
How long would it keep being said by other instructors if this promised conquest never happened?
So distracted was Asaf that he almost ran Khamsa into Oath's hindquarters. Temperance's horse was stopped, the tiefling's tail twitching as he appeared to be listening. The group had long since left the main road. It was several hours past midday. Around them, the trees had grown much thicker, but not quite dense enough to truly be considered the Sanos proper.
"What is it?" Asaf asked him.
"You hear that?" Tem asked in reply.
Asaf remained quiet, cocking his head to listen.
They all four sat silently.
"I don't hear nothin'." Dhrak muttered.
"I do." Asaf said as he strained his ears. It was distant and faint, but he heard it; a series of loud thumps. A few seconds later, they were joined by the sound of branches snapping and undergrowth being torn up.
"Not enough room to fight on horseback." Tem said quickly, hopping down from Oath's back, taking Dhrak by the scruff of his coat to take the goblin with him. With a command word and a flash of heat haze, Oath was gone.
Asaf leapt down from Khamsa's back. Instinctively, he turned to offer a hand to Scaelia, but she was already beside him, holding a longbow made of layers of several substances, like horn and wood, but the outer layers were clearly some form of deep blue chitin. As Scaelia put her finger on the string, a dark-shafted arrow with a barbed head formed from coalescing smoke.
"Useful, that." Asaf noted as the thumping grew louder. He could feel it in the ground through his boots. His spear formed in his right hand, his left going through the opening motions of a lightning bolt spell. The magic formed in his hand, waiting for the final gesture and a word of arcane power.
"My mother is a huntress in the Darklands. She found it." Was all the explanation that Scaelia offered.
"We got nothin' to fear, my friends. Know why?" Dhrak asked as he drew three feet of slightly curved steel from his back, taking it in a two-handed grip.
"Why's that?" Tem asked, Forbearance and Blackbole at the ready.
A creature that was easily ten feet tall even with its hunched posture came ambling out of the trees. Its mottled green hide sported bony spurs on its elbows and neck, the beast's long face ending in a mouth full of jagged, predatory teeth. Two brutal tusks, one of them cracked down its length, jutted from the beast's underbiting jaw. It was a troll.
And it was not the only one.
Dhrak's wide mouth was split in a toothy grin as he finally answered Tem's question. "Because we're heroes!" Then he charged.
The trolls spotted the group and ran at them. Three were in plain view, but Asaf could hear another. He launched his lightning bolt at the nearest one, which seared through its chest, leaving a smoking hole. Two arrows sprouted from the troll's chest and it fell to the forest floor, skidding through the bracken and mulch into a tree trunk.
Dhrak ran up the body of the fallen troll, leaping from the body and stabbing his dueling sword into the shoulder of another troll. The beast snarled and slapped at the goblin, but Dhrak levered himself up, pulling the blade free and ending up standing on the troll's clavicle. Cutting down with two spinning slashes into the troll's neck sent the creature's head flying free. Dhrak performed an acrobatic flip and landed on his feet as the headless corpse tumbled. That sword was too keen of cut to not be enchanted.
"Sweet barleybrew! Hope you saw that, Cayden!" The goblin declared as he hit the ground.
Tem was moving past the two fallen trolls, cutting into them with Forbearance, the burning sword stopping the prodigious healing of the bestial giantkin and putting them down for good. The tiefling ended up face to face with the third troll, which was twice his size and whipping a clawed hand down at him. Tem raised Blackbole, the round shield rebuffing the troll's claws. Forbearance came around in a burning arc at Tem's eye level, cutting across the troll's belly and spilling its guts across the forest floor.
Tem roared as he thrust upward, the burning sword going into the troll's throat. The troll let out a smoky gurgle as it fell back. Tem wheeled to face the others that he heard moving. Something was coming at him and all the tiefling had time to do was raise Blackbole. Asaf had seen what was a coming just a couple moments sooner and hurriedly summoned a shield spell.
The end of a hurled log slammed into Temperance and sent the Crimson Templar flying, shattering through the magic protection. The tiefling was thrown against a tree and fell to the ground, either unconscious or stunned beyond being able to move. The defensive spell had robbed the projectile of lethal force, it seemed, but Tem was out of the fight for the moment.
A fourth troll emerged, seeing the smoking bodies of its dead compatriots and bellowing with wrath. It was larger than all the others and was lifting another log from a crude metal harness on its back, this one with a grip roughly whittled into one end, various bits of metal and wire wrappings covering the other. The troll was covered in an assortment of armor pieces; sections of chain, breastplates and cuirasses, bits of hide and leather, all of it knitted together with a material that was like catgut but thicker.
The bull troll bullied its way through the undergrowth and branches, its massive club slamming down where Asaf and Scaelia had been standing. Aasimar and drow dove in opposite directions, Scaelia speeding an arrow into the troll's ribcage. She landed on her shoulder blades, rolling backwards up to her feet and speeding two more. The missiles stuck into the troll's chest. It snapped and growled, ropes of foaming saliva flying from its mouth as it chased after her.
Asaf had pushed himself up to his hands and knees, sending out a pentad of scorching rays that lanced from his left palm. The shimmering beams of heat slammed into the troll's back, filling the surrounding forest with yet more of the stink of burned flesh. The troll's armor heated up, becoming red hot, but the creature was too enraged to care, swinging its club at Scaelia. The drow dodged but the club smashed a tree and sent a storm of slivers outward. Scaelia didn't manage to shield her face in time and cried out as the biting spray sliced into her skin.
Before the troll could strike the stunned drow, Dhrak reached it, his keen blade slicing into the troll's heels. Thick, unwholesome blood flowed as the flesh was cut to ribbons. Asaf advanced on the troll, hurling firebolt cantrips to continue suppressing its regenerative abilities. One of the troll's legs gave out as a tendon or something else important was severed. It dropped to a knee, but before Dhrak could deliver a more lethal blow the troll lashed backward with a balled fist, catching Dhrak full in the side. The diminutive Swordlord was lifted from his feet and thrown through the forest, cartwheeling through air, his sword dropping to stick point down in the ground.
Realizing he was in deep trouble, Asaf stopped his advance, forced to dive forward and lay out flat as the troll's club spun through the air over his head and broke against a tree. The bull troll tried to stand and pursue Asaf but its heel was still non-functioning. It sprawled forward, reaching out for him. Asaf tried to stand, to get away, but he wasn't fast enough. The troll grabbed his leg. Asaf stabbed down at a fist the size of a beer keg, channeling several acid touch spells through the spear's tip to continue keeping the troll from healing. The troll's grip only tightened. Something in Asaf's leg cracked and the aasimar couldn't suppress a scream of pain. The pain became white-hot, indescribably intense, as he was lifted from the ground by the injured limb and hurled through the air. He barely had the sense to revert his spear to bracelet form as he spun through the air, clipped a tree, and hit the ground, landing on his back.
The troll was still roaring its fury to the sky when suddenly there was the rapid thwip thwip thwip of several arrows being fired at once. Judging by how quickly they were hitting something, they were not being fired very far away from their target.
Asaf pushed himself up on his elbow, looking to see that Scaelia was standing on the troll's back, her bow in hand, a trio of arrows jutting from the back of beast's skull. None of the troll's wounds were healing. It was dead.
Aasimar and drow looked at each other. Blood ran down Scaelia's face and neck, her left eye closed as the deep red liquid filled it. Asaf's leg still throbbed with pain, laying at an entirely wrong angle.
"I suppose you could fight worse." The drow said blithely.
Asaf sighed, laying his head back onto the soft mulch of the forest floor. "Better than I am currently capable of walking, if nothing else."
Scaelia jumped down from the dead bull troll, tucking her bow into the sheathe on her back. She knelt beside Asaf.
"Good thing I didn't use any magic in that fight." She said, laying a hand on Asaf's shoulder and saying, "merciful Dawnflower, please deliver this man from pain."
The magic flowed into Asaf's body, the pain in his leg fading as it straightened out, the bones knitting back together. Scaelia then stood, offering Asaf a hand and helping him to his feet.
"We must help Temperance and Dhrak." Scaelia said, looking around the site of the skirmish.
"No need for me, Miss Scaelia." Dhrak's voice said.
Asaf and Scaelia looked, seeing the goblin standing on a fallen, rotting log. He held out a hand and his dueling sword leapt from where it was stuck in the ground, the hilt flying straight into Dhrak's palm. He flourished the blade, flicking most of the blood from it, then hopped down from the log, producing a rag from his hip pocket to clean off his sword. Dhrak walked with a limp and was dirty, but seemed fine otherwise.
"You notice somethin' about these bodies?" Dhrak asked them.
Asaf and Scaelia looked at the corpses as they made their way over to the still inert form of Temperance. It took Asaf a second, but then he got it.
"They already have arrows stuck in them. And scars from recently healed wounds." The Pathfinder realized. He stopped beside the troll that he had struck with lightning and inspected it, pulling out one of the unknown arrows. Behind him, he heard Scaelia speaking a prayer, a brighter light than the one that had healed Asaf being applied to Temperance.
The arrow that Asaf had removed from the troll's body was a larger than the ones being fired by Scaelia. It was fletched with normal feathers, but the tip was obsidian. Though they weren't effective against armor, an obsidian arrow could cause even more grievous harm than one made of metal. If it struck a soft target, the arrowhead could break apart inside the body, the fragments causing further damage with every movement.
"Hm. There are not very many people who use these in Avistan with any sort of regularity." Asaf mused. "In fact, it's rather unheard of outside of Arcadia."
"The Dancing Eagle tribe of Shoanti commonly makes use of obsidian arrows", Scaelia said, approaching with a woozy looking Temperance just behind her. "There are a few cultures in Garund who make use of it, as well, like some Ekujae elves."
I must admit it's rather nice to have a fellow academic around. Asaf thought. "Very true, Miss Scaelia. And I suppose we're close enough to Shoanti lands from them to have been the ones who shot these. Except…"
"Except what?" Tem grunted as he sat down on the log that had been thrown at him like a javelin. Meanwhile, Scaelia used a lesser healing spell on Dhrak, the goblin nodding his thanks to her. Finally, she used some on herself.
"The size of the arrow. It's a bit too large, don't you think?" Asaf asked, pulling one of Scaelia's arrows from the skull of the bull troll. Sure enough, the obsidian-tipped arrow was half-again as large as Scaelia's. "And the arrowhead is scaled up to match. This would require an appropriately sized bow to achieve good distance."
"Huh." Scaelia breathed, deep in thought. She accepted a clean rag that Dhrak had dampened with water from his canteen, cleaning the blood from her eye. "Thank you, Dhrak", she said, then to Asaf, "that…is unusual. Even larger races such as orcs don't tend to upscale their missiles weapons like this."
Asaf dropped the arrows to the ground and scratched his head. His leg was sore and he was tired as the rush of battle left him. "And, furthermore, these trolls came from the direction of our destination. It doesn't mean they actually came from it. They might have been driven from it. Or something that is inhabiting the ruin used these arrows on the trolls to chase them out of a lair nearby. One way or another, we must be extra careful moving forward. I suggest we get away from these corpses, set camp early today, and recover our strength."
His three companions agreed and they left the dead trolls behind.
An hour and some spare minutes of walking found the four adventurers setting up camp near a stream that cut through the Sanos. Not far upstream was a small pond and waterfall. As much as Asaf craved to strip out of his equipment and fully wash himself in the pond, he knew it was a poor idea with something that could threaten a band of trolls potentially being nearby. So, they cleaned the grime from their faces and called it there.
No campfire was lit. The weather was warm enough that heat wouldn't be a problem, at least, and everyone present was capable of darkvision. They ate cold trail rations of bread, cheese, and dried fruit. There was little conversation; everyone was tired from battle and sore from magical healing. Asaf offered to take first watch, which caused Tem's eyes to widen a little with shock. Normally, the aasimar was going to sleep as fast as possible. Tem said nothing about this anomaly, though. The tiefling was introspective. If Asaf had to chance a guess, it was due to the fact that Tem had been taken out of the fight so thoroughly. Asaf would have liked to say some comforting words to his partner, but in truth, the aasimar was doing some introspection of his own.
As everyone else settled into their bedrolls, Asaf propped himself against a tree. Before long, Temperance's quiet snores signaled he was asleep. Dhrak mumbled unintelligibly every now and again. Scaelia was lying on her side, still as a log.
Leaning his head against the rough bark, Asaf looked up through the Sanos's canopy to the stars above.
"Oh, Song of Spheres." Asaf whispered in almost silent prayer to Desna. "I find myself in need of a bit of guidance, I think."
He thought of what to say. Asaf was not exactly a religious person. His frequent travel made Desna the most common deity he turned to. One of Desna's lovers, Sarenrae, was beloved by almost everyone in Qadira, which also included Asaf. The stars were the domain of Desna, however, and right now he needed the aid of the Dreamer.
Asaf muttered to himself. "Everywhere I go I feel like I'm uncovering the true nature of things, seeing past what others refuse to. But I think I've been learning recently that this isn't the case. I think, perhaps, I've merely scratched a bit away from the surface and thought I'd dug a mine of insight. If…that is a comprehensible idea." He shook his head. "It seems to me, Song of Spheres, that I might be little better than those I've looked down upon all these years."
Asaf puffed out a breath. He knew the gods were real. Their power was undeniable. But one reason he rarely prayed was it was hard to believe a god would be taking the time to hear him out, specifically.
"I don't want my tales to be nothing but self-aggrandizement. When I began to write my chronicles and tell my stories, it was because I wanted to give people hope. I wanted them to know there was someone out there fighting for them, confronting danger, keeping them safe. And…and I…", his throat tightened as he realized the truth. "...I think I have lost sight of that."
Asaf hung his head as he finally cut to the heart of the issue.
"I want to give the good people of this world hope, Song of Spheres." He repeated. "No matter if they're Qadiran, Varisian, elven, dwarven, orcish…or Taldoran. I was a petulant child hiding from my responsibilities when Sir Temperance dragged me out of my room. I was more worried about a pretty face than anything else for the ship to Ravounel. And then what happened and Ravounel…and here…", he rubbed his face. "...I've lost my way, Desna. And I think I need your help finding my way back to the path."
Putting his eyes skyward once more, Asaf looked at the stars. There was no obvious sign, no flight of glowing butterflies like the stories spoke of as a signal that Desna was there. No god was going to hold Asaf's hand through this process. It was something he was going to have to do himself.
Asaf looked over his traveling companions once more. Tem was still snoring. Dhrak was still mumbling. Scaelia…
Was looking right at him, her white eyes stark against the night.
The two of them blinked at each other a few times.
"How…long were you listening?" Asaf asked, careful not to wake Tem or Dhrak.
"Long enough." Scaelia said, a smirk slowly crossing her face before she rolled over to her other shoulder.
It was in that moment that Asaf realized that Desna had provided him with a guide, and no doubt. The aasimar had a growing feeling that this foray into the ruins wasn't going to be the end of these travel arrangements with Scaelia and Dhrak.
With one final sigh, Asaf settled back against the tree to resume his shift at watch.
Much obliged, Song of Spheres. He thought with tired, uncertain gratitude in the goddess's direction.
16 Eras, 4721
Central Sanos Forest, Varisia
Asaf, Temperance, Scaelia, and Dhrak were making their way through the forest in a southwesterly direction. They were moving with some level of stealth now, Scaelia scouting ahead of the group. Whatever had caused those trolls to be running in such a panic might still be out there. The last thing any of them wanted was to be ambushed.
Asaf felt uneasy, and it wasn't because of his thoughts the previous evening. That arrow he had inspected couldn't not have been upscaled just for the fun of it. Perhaps it had been crafted by an extraplanar being from one of the Lower Planes, or the Plane of Shadow. Obsidian was in abundance in those places, especially in many of the fiery layers of Hell. Those arrows could have been fired from bows crafted for larger creatures. Except, why obsidian? The beings of the Lower Planes had access to metal from fell forges, or natural ranged weapons and magicks.
Someone who used a situational weapon, hoping the fragmenting arrowheads would counter troll regeneration? Asaf thought, continuing to turn the possibilities over in his mind. It could even be a big game hunter who is simply seeking a challenge. Gods. Not enough information. It keeps coming back to that. Perhaps I should stop putting my mind in circles.
The group stopped around midday to rest and eat some trail rations, concealed in a stand of tall ferns in the middle of the Sanos. Asaf grew rather excited when he found something made by mortal hands on the forest floor that he thought might be a hint at the current mystery. It turned out to be a chunk of scrap metal that was trailing the same catgut-like substance that had held the bull troll's armor together. At least it reinforced the idea that the trolls had come from the ruin, for whatever that was worth.
It was a couple of hours away from dusk when the four adventurers were climbing up a rise in the forest, weaving between trees, when Scaelia suddenly stopped ahead of them. The drow looked back, making a motion to indicate that they all should get low, then come join her.
The rest of the team did as Scaelia commanded, crawling up to the crest of the rise. They were still down among the brush and bracken, hidden from sight.
"The ruin is ahead." Scaelia whispered.
The others nodded to her. Asaf slithered across the ground until he reached a tree thick enough to conceal him, then raised himself up, slowly peering around the tree toward the ruin. The forest ran right up to it. Beyond the treeline was a glimpse into the past, moss and vine covered it may have been. "Ruin" didn't do the place justice. It was a proper town, if not a small city. The expected wear and tear of centuries had done a number of the place, rotting wood away, weathering and collapsing stonework. However, the journal Asaf had read was correct. Compared to most such ruins, this one appeared to be relatively untouched and in good condition. There were several large structures that would have given even larger city cathedrals a run for their money in terms of size and grandeur.
Normally, Asaf would have expected locals to have picked the place over long ago, but apparently the Sanos gnomes considered the ruins taboo. If trolls had been living here, Asaf could understand such a taboo. It was likely other adventurers had visited the place anyway, but as ruins went, this one had more potential to have good stuff left. Of course, "good stuff" for Asaf was different than other people. Most adventurers wanted treasure for its monetary value. Asaf had no need of more money, though he wasn't above getting more, naturally. No, he wanted to find important pieces that told a story, something to include in his next chronicle. What fun was a pile of gold coins when compared to, say, the enchanted cloak of one of the ancient Runelords, or one of their old journals? Stories mattered to Asaf, not making more money.
Further in the ruin, Asaf could see the flickering lights of a few campfires. There were two guards standing near where the forest ended and the ruin began, and they…by Desna's wings, what were they?
The creatures both had to be almost seven feet in height. They were clad in strange armor that looked like burnished bronze scales, resting crescent-bladed halberds on the ground. Both creatures were humanoids, but their heads were draconic, and they were covered in scales. They were too big to be lizardfolk or kobolds. What on Golarion were these things?
Around Asaf, his companions were peering out to see the strange draconic beings as well, none of them looking certain as to what exactly they were seeing. Scaelia stealthily made her way over to the tree that Asaf was sheltering behind and shifted to the other side.
"Half-dragons?" Scaelia muttered as she took up her bow.
"I don't think so." Asaf replied quietly. "No wings. No tails. Half-dragon humanoids have both."
Scaelia nodded. "They could be beings from the Orvian Vaults. Or even could hail from another world, like the lashunta race."
"That could be, yes." Asaf agreed. The former of those two options sound rather likely to him. The Orvian Vaults were below even Golarions underground Darklands, though some scholars considered the Vaults merely the lowest layer of the Darklands. Regardless, they were impossibly vast caverns, each one the size of a nation. They had artificial light, diverse biomes, and were home to species both animal and sapient that had never been viewed by mortals, let alone seen the light of Sarenrae's sun. It wasn't far-fetched to suggest that these draconic humanoids had come from Orv.
"We don't know if they're friendly or not. Perhaps we should approach and try to speak with them." Scaelia suggested.
Asaf considered that idea. He had no desire to cause unnecessary bloodshed. If these beings really came from Orv or from another world entirely, would they even be able to understand any of the languages the four of them could speak?
"I think it would be best if we sneak into the ruins after the sun goes down." Asaf decided. "I have a feeling any interactions with these fine people shall result in conflict, and I would prefer to avoid that until we know of their origins, or at least their motivations."
"Glad we're on the same page, then." Scaelia said, lowering herself back down. "I'll tell Dhrak and Horns."
Horns. Asaf snorted softly. Horns and Halo. What a silly pair of names.
Asaf resumed his vigil on the guards, making sure they didn't intend to come out into the forest at any point. Beyond this, all the group could do was watch, wait, and hope this journey didn't end up being for nothing.
The hidden figure could not help but feel disappointment come to the fore when he saw that the four adventurers intended to wait. It was the smart move, of course. They would probably remain hidden until darkness came, then sneak their way into the ruins, hoping to find something of value. That was all well and good. It's what the hidden figure would do, had he been among their number. But, he was not, and so he had some plans of his own to come up with.
Following the four adventurers had been relatively simple, thanks to the fact that the hidden figure had a more than competent tracker among his retinue. The temptation to simply ambush the adventurers at night had been almost overwhelming, but the hidden figure had kept his people back. After all, why start an unnecessary fight when a little patience could allow for killing bloodbats with one arrow?
So, the hidden figure and his crew also waited, utterly silent, as the sun dipped below the horizon and night fell upon the Old Thassilonian ruins and the Sason forest surrounding it.
A hooded half-orc with a cloak over her chainmail approached the hidden figure, coming to a rest where the figure remained concealed in the hollow of a tree.
"They've moved into the ruins", Korta informed him.
Valisthas nodded, smiling to himself. "A bit more patience, then."
"We don't want to give them a chance to escape." Korta said with a scowl.
"And they will not have one. As I said. Patience. You are vastly underestimating how long it will take them to search this place." Valisthas sighed, resisting the urge to smack his Korta. For one given to stealth and guile, she was awfully brash at times.
Nearby Theadocia and TS were content to wait in silence. TS had her Alkenstar-forged rifle across her knees, fingers lightly drumming along its wooden stock. The dark-skinned android had a wicked grin across her face, the anticipation of the mischief they were about to inflict upon Asaf the Worldwalker and his compatriots clearly something TS was savoring.
Not that I can't relate to that feeling. Valisthas thought. It had been a long time coming. Asaf the Worldwalker deserved worse. Much worse. Valisthas had come to terms with the fact that, in all odds, he was never going to be able to inflict the pain and suffering upon Asaf that the gnome wanted to deliver. Valishtas could settle, then, for simply orchestrating the aasimar's death or downfall.
They had to be careful. Crews of Pathfinders coming into conflict with each other was far from unheard of. Norgorber knew that some Venture-Captains even encouraged this competition to try to push Pathfinders to be their very best. Killing, though…that was another story. No, if Valisthas and his people were going to try to directly kill the Worldwalker, they had to be absolutely certain it was going to be a situation where no witnesses would escape to tell the tale. Not only would that see Valisthas and the others removed from the Pathfinder Society, but Asaf's parents were wealthy nobles. Word would get back to them, and that could be a very big problem. Furthermore, and more directly, Valisthas was not so prideful as to be unable to admit that Asaf was a skilled combatant and magic user. All three of the people with him looked dangerous, too. Any attempt to engage them directly came with a great deal of personal danger.
In short, this evening had to be handled correctly. And it would be. Valisthas would see to that.
After an appropriate amount of time, Valisthas finally raised his head and said, "TS."
"Mm?" The android perked up.
"Do it." The gnome commanded.
Smiling, TS-54 raised her rifle up, pointed the barrel at the sky, and pulled the trigger. She did the same with her brace of pistols three pistols. There was a hard edge to TS's smile. She probably wanted Asaf dead more than even Valisthas. The gnome couldn't blame here, given the history between android and aasiamar…
The sound of the firearms discharging echoed through the night. Then, in the distance, Valisthas could hear the sound of the camp in the ruins coming to life. It was the gnome's turn to smile.
"Let's relocate." Valisthas suggested. "And let the game begin."
(to be continued in "Dawn of the Dragonstar" , pt.2)
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
Name: Scaelia Oussath, the Deepsun
Race: Drow
Class: Warpriest
Prestige Class: Horizon Walker
Name: Dhrak Cailean-Aldori
Race: Goblin
Class: Rogue/Fighter (Aldori Defender)
Prestige Class: Swordlord