Pathfinder Campaign: The Ailing Earth

[Lord_Iggy]

The Log of Captain Elizabeth Briggs

Crossing the Sellyck from Denrae to Caephlyn

The journey from Denrae started with little incident, although I immediately began to doubt the wisdom of allowing a Witch onboard. Doruk has shown himself to be useful- I am once again regretful that the young barrenlander does not wish to take up life as a sailor, for he has all of the balance, stomach and strength needed to thrive at sea, as well as a keen attention to orders. The Elven diplomat Lien-Lai has proven to be a pleasant conversational partner, the likes of which I have not encountered before.

It was in the afternoon of the seventh day out of Denrae that the good weather began to fail. A sudden storm fell upon us from the south, and the ship was battered by mighty winds and terrible waves. It was early on that Deckhand Ralf Baxter was washed overboard: a first wave knocked him off the deck, and as he was being recovered, a second wave threw him into the sea once more, and his tether snapped. At the squall's climax, a terrible wave fell upon the vessel, and my dear friend and second mate William Chandler was lost in similar conditions. I do not look forward to my next meeting with his wife.

The tempest passed after a few hours, leaving the ship tossed upon a rocky shoal. We kept the ship afloat through the efforts of first mate Holt and deckhand Doruk on the pumps, and through the fine patchwork and brace put together by carpenter Hart, as well as through my own emergency caulking. A service was held for the two men who perished, and the ship moved on. Tomorrow, we shall be in Caephlyn.

 

[Lord_Iggy]

Session Logs:

1 2

 

[Thlayli]

Sparrows in the Garden

"But...Caephlyn? What interest could we have there?"

The Intendant of the Celestial Court raised an eyebrow at this breach of protocol.

"The Earth is anchored from the Void only by the Eternal Root of the Heavenly Tree. And where the Tree cannot take root, it must suffice for the Seeds of the Tree to be scattered across the land." They both knew what he was quoting.

Lien-Lai folded his hands in his robes, his face not showing any sign of displeasure; they were taught that as children. The elves looked similar, enough that a family resemblance could be believed, or at least a sense of guilt that one could not so easily tell elves apart. Both had golden eyes, sharp widow's peaks, and wore their jet-black hair in topknots, though the Intendant's was far more elaborately woven.

"Is it to be considered honor or reproach that a seed has never been flung so far from the tree?" Lien said after a long silence.

The Intendant of the Celestial Court slowly curled his mouth into a lopsided smile, finally dropping the pretense of formality.

"Come, little brother. His morning meditation is almost complete, and I am to brief Him on the matters of state. Ask Him yourself."

Lien bored his eyes directly into the forehead of the Intendant. "I do not consider myself worthy of the Presence."

"Of course you are worthy. Those of the Ten Thousand are always permitted access to the Inner Court. Mei-Lao, a palanquin." A slender female elf dressed in muted colors fell into a prostate bow and vanished.

"NO." Lien found himself standing, not remembering when he had gotten to his feet.

The Intendant of the Heavenly Court turned his head ever so slightly to the side from where he was seated crosslegged on a cushion, that little smile still on his face.

"Do you know how curious you are?" the Intendant finally said. He paused, picking up a brush from an ink pot to make a few immaculate calligraphic characters on the piece of paper before him, then stamping it with a weighty golden seal.

"I do not consider myself worthy."

"You persist in the delusion that Our Father wished her dead." He made another few quick marks with the brush, flourishing slightly. "Which is just that, a delusion."

"I said nothing to that effect," said Lien. "Let the record state that," he said to the scribe who was softly scratching down every word of their conversation.

The Intendant laughed. "Do you fear an inquisition?" He leaned forward. "If you were going to be the subject of an inquisition, you would not be standing on the very eaves of the Inner Court."

"I wish to have the record state my utmost respect for Our Father."

"Just so," the Intendant said, slowly and exaggeratedly. "Just so." The Intendant paused for a moment, as an elf entered the room and whispered a few words into the Intendant's ear. "Then tell the surrounding prefectures to..."

Lien stopped listening, and turned his head to the side. Outside the open portal, three fat little sparrows hopped about in the sunlight on the tiled stones of the Intendant's garden, pecking the ground for something. Then they all took flight. His eyes followed them as they disappeared.

The Intendant finished his conversation. "I apologize. Regrettable business, in the south."

"Yes," said Lien, in a detached fashion. "Regrettable."

"Now, as I was saying...you are mentioned often at court, in a favorable light. He is impressed with your aptitude in the spiritual essences, and much desires to speak with you."

Lien nodded. "To even understand even two words from the Imperial mouth would require a century of study. I am as unready as I am unworthy."

"So you question the Emperor's judgment?"

"No. I believe the Emperor knows perfectly my inadequacy, and yet extends His kindness out of infinite generosity, knowing that it will be refused."

The Intendant laughed again, this time a long, hearty chuckle. "Yes. He knows of your reluctance to accept His honors and His favor. It only raises you in His estimation." He picked up the paper he had been working on, ruffled it into a scroll, and then slid it into a tube of polished bamboo. As soon as he lifted the tube up, a servant had snatched it from his fingers and ran it out of the room.

"The Emperor knows all. He knows of your desire to have distance, and time, and He has decided to give you your desire. It is said that Caephlyn possesses Archives which, while greatly inferior to our own, may possess items of interest, especially to a scholar like you. Your mission is to take one century to read these Archives and commit them to memory, then bring their contents back to the Imperial Library to be transcribed. During that time, ensure that the human kings continue to look on us as the unchallenged angels of an undying god."

"I accept the Will."

"And when you do return, Lien, you will be expected to assume a much greater role. This duty is beneath you, but the Emperor wishes for you to...mature, in your own time."

"Oh, and Lien?"

"Yes, Intendant?"

"We still have her soul."

Lien exhaled.

"Do not disobey us again."

The world closed in on him for a moment as the Intendant rose to leave. As he exited the room, he said over his shoulder, "Have a nice trip. Scribe, please strike those last few lines from the record."

 

[Thlayli]

Reposting the sketch of the party drawn by our magnificently talented artist/party member flyingchicken.

Spoiler :

From left to right:

Lien-Lai [Elven Cleric] (Thlayli)
Rick [Human Bard] (Terrance)
Captain Elizabeth Briggs [Human Gunslinger] (Lord Iggy)
Wind [Human Monk] (cicero)
Ratzenberger [Ratfolk Alchemist] (azale)
Doruk [Human Barbarian] (Luckymoose)
Alessa [Tiefling Witch] (flyingchicken)