With the familiar crackling sound, an array of magic missiles struck the last margoyle in the chest. He seemed unaffected at first, but then a spiderweb of cracks appeared and he crumbled in mid-air.

Only Titus’s training prevented him from being showered in gravel, as he quickly stepped back.

“There could be more of them” rumbled Zarthose, stepping past the remains of the others “That horn was a signal, I bet”

Titus asked “Do you think there are more of them?”

“Of course there are, don’t be fool” remarked Livia, vanishing as she did so.

Moments later, six winged forms could be seen, approaching quickly from the far end of the canyon.

“You still awake?” whispered the devil, Livia.

You reply “Yeah”, as you wearily finish the rest of your watch. It occurs to you that Livia hasn’t stood a watch since…ever? You’re about to say something when you have an image of everyone sleeping, trusting the imp to guard over them.

“Can I ask you something?”

At least Livia was good for conversation sometimes. Tisa just stared at people. And hey, even if Livia had nothing worthwhile to say, the view was damned good. You remember the giant pointing out “Metal armor, more strong”. She answered “But leather and studs is more fun.”

The giant didn’t get it.

You reply “Sure”.

From time to time, the Tiefling would be found writing in his journal, often at night. He didn’t seem to need much sleep.

This occasioned very little comment from the others, something that surprised Zarthose until he noticed that the other infernal, Livia, had a book of her own, and needed even less sleep than he did himself.

The mud was endless, no matter how many bootfuls were poured out. Livia was glad that she had wings, and could soar overhead. Even the giant was having trouble, strong as he was. He even crashed through the crust of mud once, sinking into the boiling mud beneath.

Livia watched as the others were burnt, suffocated in mud, showered with acid, and very nearly poisoned and mutated into jelly. They would have starved to death, but the giant proved to be an able hunter.

They knew nothing about what had happened to the area, or what dangers might lie in wait.

And somehow, they were strangely confident that they were about to become rich. In the middle of an uninhibited wasteland.

It was quite possible that a mere ten decades of hellscapes had driven them mad. Livia shook her head, she knew it was far worse to be there in person.

The world has gone abso-fucking-lutely insane.

Let me make a list:

• Hugs is dead.
• Rivers and rain of acid.
• Westcrown is a wasteland.
• Westpool has been replaced by some camp where the dead come alive at night.
• A giant hole in the ground a few leagues north of where Westcrown used to be.
• The camp is run like a foreign country with the worst exchange rates I’ve ever seen.
• Aroden is alive. Sort of.
• Ghouls seem to have citizenship.
• A battleground stretches north from Westcrown possibly all the way to Egorian if it still exists.
• Met a guy tiefling whose profession is “dungeon explorer?”. Maybe he’s a Pathfinder?
• Found a shrine with a plaque with Janiven’s name on it. Called her a liberator. I’m going to miss her.
• Met an ogre. An ogre of all things! And not one of those inbred sister-fuckers from Varisia.
• Viggo wears Roy’s skull as a hat and thinks it talks to him.

Oh man Hugs got herself frozen in time for the duration of our stay in the vault with that crazy halfling Tisa. Then not ten minutes later some crazy chaos beasts called slaad killed her. What was she thinking? She’s smarter than to rush into battle all recklessly like that! I buried her and made a note where her body is. When I can get the means I’m bringing her back. She didn’t deserve to die like this years beyond her time and alone except for the guy who keeps finding trouble for her.

Titus takes a pull from the whiskey flask. Aged 100 years. Not bad.

That devil Livia is still around. She is useful even when she is being a pain in the ass. I wonder what keeps her around. Probably thinks Viggo can be tricked into selling her his soul like their former companion the tiefling Nico. That guy sounds like he was a bit touched in the head. I’ll have to keep one eye on her.

I have no idea what the hell happened to the world. The ogre doesn’t seem to know much. Neither does the tielfing who seems to have been bred as some kind of pit fighter. Livia cast a communion ritual to speak with more powerful devils but we didn’t find out much. We were too concerned about find ways to stay alive and get around paying usurious rates with the appropriately named master of The Camp, The Usurer. When she can charge back up we’ll have to ask more about the world at large. It would be nice to get out of this hellhole. But we have to afford to. According to Zarthose this is an area where treasure seekers congregate. I guess that is what we must become.

Without much of a need for sleep, Livia has started to have an evening with the smartest person in the group. Unfortunately, that’s herself, but she’s had a century to get used to the idea.

How the mighty city of Westcrown has fallen. Once the height of Man’s ambition in Golarion, it is now a ruin. And how did such an evil come to pass? It is not clear how this was accomplished, but bravo, sir. Bravo!

Ok, time for a recap. In two days, I have learned the following:

• Aroden emerged from wherever he was trapped, directly into Westcrown.
• That site is holy ground, and that celestial fire creature was ready to defend it. Avoid.
• Westcrown is a total ruin, inhabited only by ghouls. Nice job Aroden.
• Some ghouls can spit poison at people. Didn’t see that coming at all.
• Aroden is now claiming to be the Master of Fate. Hmm.
• Titus is an idiot, and couldn’t even manage a fake devil summoning..
• The bay is now acidic, stay out.
• We unpoisoned an giant, and he’s leading us back to ‘the village’. Cast detect thoughts later.
• Remember to tell Viggo, we found another halfing. An evil ghost halfling, but hey, it’s only been two days. The giant killed him, he’s afraid of ghosts. Oh!, I’ve missed this.

Livia reaches into her bag, and finds a sharpened quill and a large leather-bound tome. Biting one of her fingers, she dips the quill into the wound before her diabolical metabolism seals the wound closed.

The Book of Fear – new entry
Grumell the giant is afraid of ghosts, especially the one at the crossroads.

“Well, those things were terrible” remarked Livia, glad to be away from the threatening encroaches of the Astral plane. “They come from the very Chaos itself, I hear”.
-
“You know, that invisibility might have worked if it wasn’t for this stupid thing. Those guys have waged war against the Inevitables for as long as I can remember, which is…by the river Styx, I’m now a hundred years older.”
-
Livia looks angry and flaps off in a pout, muttering in Infernal to herself. For those who speak the language, they can (DC 20) faintly hear “I don’t care about birthdays, stupid human ritual…”
-
All players gain 2130 XP for defeating the Slaad and the ghoul wolves.

The chamber lay still, as it had for many years. Had a living person been there, they would have noticed the dull red glow coming from the pentagram inscribed into the floor. While it appeared to be empty, a patient observer would see a face appear from time to time, twisting in agony before fading from view.

And while the chamber lay undisturbed by man or beast, there was one within who simply waited. Things remained this way for many years. The observer was not affected by the passage of time, it could detect the slow build-up of dust upon the fragments of black metal scattered across the floor. That mattered little. In the distance, the Spiral was slowly fading. The energy that held the plane together were weaker than they had been in the past; the furthest places would be difficult to travel to. This also mattered little to the observer, it was obligated to remain where it was.

But then there was a sound: quietly approaching footsteps. This would not have been detected by most mortals, but the observer was not mortal. It stood, and turned to face the door, turning invisible to better gather information about how to respond.

As the footsteps grew closer still, the observer heard a discussion.

“The pentagram is ahead, we made it!”

“We haven’t made it yet, that thing is dangerous.”

“I don’t care how dangerous, we need to get them out of there”

The observer drew upon its long experience working with arcane power. It quickly derived a solution and directed the power through the logic of the spell and outward.

“FIAT TEMPUS FRANGERE”

The footsteps ceased. The discussion ended. Had the observer been human, it would have smiled. Instead, it returned its gaze to the pentagram.

The chamber remained silent for many more years.

The eyes of Khalid Ibn Shazz gleamed with interest. There were few things the wizard enjoyed more than haggling.

“Then, the bargain is such:

• I am to locate the Varisian, Szarko Rom, and bring him to Fort Rannick immediately.
• We leave Fort Rannick under the jurisdiction of Captain Rom.
• We provide provisions enough for an entire year.
• We provide 10 guardsmen to bolster the defenses of the Fort.
• My apprentice, Tarvi, will supervise the provisioning and the guardsmen, and render what counsel he can to the Captain.

In return, you, Brother Theodoric, will join us on our quest, to serve faithfully until we achieve our goals or are destroyed. Are we agreed?"

The larger man looked down at the flawless calligraphy that made up the contract. “I accept” said Theodoric, pleased that the arrangement wasn’t any worse. “How many weeks will you need to bring the supplies?”

“We leave tomorrow at dawn. Be prepared for cold weather, and possibly combat.” stated Khalid. Noting Brother Theodoric’s confused look, he laughed “Did you think I would walk to Magnimar?” Khalid uttered a few arcane syllables and vanished in a blast of flame.

Theodoric did not mind the early start, he had been rising before dawn to pray to the light for many years. As he finished, he glanced over at the table of papers and maps. It was Szarko’s problem now. The rogue was smarter than he looked, he would work something out. The armor was a familiar friend as well, and Theodoric could let his mind wander as he tightened the straps. He spoke the words to endure the cold Khalid had warned of, and took his warmest cloak as well, in case. The sword and pack has been lying by the door all night, and he picked those up as well as he headed out the the battlements.

The capable looking woman, something or other Key, was similarly attired in a fur lined cloak. She favored lighter armor than Theodoric, but that was common for archers, and the recurved bow slung over her cloak hinted at her skill. The wizard was wrapped in a great woolen cloak, and looked cold. But it was the other woman, the Pathfinder, who looked the most out of place. She wore a sturdy travelling outfit, but her clothes were meant to impress some lord, hardly practical at all.

Theodoric spoke “If you had warned me, I could have protected you against the elements as well. Now you’ll have to wait”.

Ailyn Ghontasavos put a hand on Theodoric’s shoulder “Don’t mind me, darling, I quite like the cold. Reminds me of home.” She stepped back several paces, and then stretched her arms wide to her sides. Then she began to grow. Theodoric watched in amazement as she doubled in size, and then grew troubled as she also began to…change.

Ailyn’s eyes changed first, becoming the color of amethysts. Theodoric found that he could not look away, those eyes seemed to expand to fill his field of vision. A lesser man would have run, but Theodoric’s faith bolstered him as other, sharper things flashed in and out of his peripheral vision. When he recovered his senses, Theodoric found himself staring at what could only be a dragon, the morning sun sparkling across its silver scales.

It…She spoke, in a voice that rumbled like thunder “You see darling, the Pathfinder Chronicles recovered at Delvehaven revealed the location of the long-lost Black Library. It was the resting place of our greatest secrets. We should return with some flair, don’t you think?”

Theodoric tried to process everything, and found himself answering the dragon’s most recent question “I’m a simple man, I’ve don’t waste time with flair.”

“Don’t worry darling, I’ll make you look great. Now quit staring and get on.”

As Theodoric swung his plate-clad leg over the strange high-backed saddle, he felt a great rush of wind, and the fortress grew smaller beneath him. Shutting his eyes, he did not open them until he had buckled himself to the saddle. When he opened his eyes again, he could see the wizard and the ranger following, riding horses made of smoke that flew through the air. Theodoric could see the ground blurring beneath him as they sped forward with the swiftness of an arrow.

“I’m…riding a dragon?” Theodoric asked.

“Yes, darling.” answered Ghontasavos.

“I’m riding a dragon, to find dusty scrolls in a library?”

“No, darling. You’re riding a dragon so that we can rescue Lord Aroden.”

Sandpoint had been quieter, things like this just didn’t happen there. Occasional troubles with goblins, and drunkards, but that was it. Sandpoint was a quiet place. Or it had been, at least, until the giants came. And like it had everytime, memories of the conflicting orders came to his mind. Sheriff Hemlock had ordered all guards to man the gates, and fight to the last. The so-called Heroes of Sandpoint shouted for everyone to flee to the docks. Fight and die, or flee like a coward, that was the choice.

And Garret had fled to the boats. He was one of the lucky ones, getting out before they burnt.

The memories of that day stayed in his mind until he reached the Captain’s door. “Captain Theodoric ! Message for you.”

“Come in.” Theodoric was a large middle-aged man who was no stranger to battle. Clad from head to toe in battered plate, he was standing behind a table covered in maps, with a glowing greatsword laying across them to keep them flat.

Theodoric raised a small ring in his large hand, peering through it at Garret. Once he was satisfied with whatever he saw, he put the ring away. “Speak”.

“Visitors, sir. They wish to speak with you.”

“The gates are closed. We cannot feed the people we have, we cannot take any more”

“Um, they flew over the gate, sir, and remain suspended in mid-air. As your orders, the archers fired on them, but our arrows burnt up before they reached their target”

“What! Why was no alarm sounded?” Theodoric grabbed his sword, lifting it clear of the table with one mailed hand. As he did so, the many maps and scrolls scattered across the room, returning to their original shapes. “Such fell magic must be the work of the undead!”

“Sir, they have a flag of parley.” Garret reflected on how long the guards would last against a trio of flying, arrow-proof attackers, but said nothing. “And one of them said to specifically to fetch you, sir. I didn’t understand much else, he’s got an accent.”

“Fire magic and an accent? Did he have orange robes? Dark skin?”

“Yes sir. He’s not from around here, that’s for sure. Do you really know him?”

“I do. He’s an Osiriani wizard. He’ll have what we need.” Theodoric sheathed his greatsword across his back and scowled as he prepared to parley with the visitors. With a rare flash of inspiration, he removed his seven-pointed star necklace from beneath his armor, switching its place with that of his holy symbol.

“Captain, isn’t that a good thing? The gods know we need the food, and much else.”

“Hmph. You haven’t seen his prices.”