The Wrong Village event plan

Attendees: 3ish?

Fluff:
Kah’s research into the Skywarden has led him to the documented village of worship known as Seosan, a humble riverside hamlet of faith in the depths of the tropics. Arrival in the locale proves that not all is at it seems, and the once bright place has become a far too quiet ghost town.
Synopsis:

The party begins their journey upon a canoo, being steadily guided by a mysterious cloaked figure. He is their guide to the lost village. He answers their questions vaguely as they boat steadily down the river.

	After their questions, or if none are offered, the boat ride towards the village grows rocky. Bumpy. Seemingly unsafe. It occurs to the people in the boat then that the guide is gone. The boat needs to be steered left or right, as a rocky pillar stands in the center of the river.

Perception checks can gauge that there’s jagged rocks to the right. Observing the water could also determine that a school of ravenous carp is following the boat, bumping into it in an attempt to turn it over.

Attempts to pacify the carp with magic will prevent a temp even if they choose the wrong direction and the boat is spilled out. Choosing the right direction to steer will deliver the party to the coast of the village.

Failure to steer in the right direction will spill out the party into the water. Will need to roll to make it to shore unscathed, or recieve temp from ravenous carp.

Arrival at the coast reveals a scattering of seaside cottages entirely void of life strewn across the beach. A temple sits upon the top of the cliff, but the bridge appears to have snapped and hangs only about two thirds of the way down from the rockside.

Examining most of the cottages would reveal that they are in dismay, almost as if the previous inhabitants struggled before they were removed. However, no signs of life exist in the area. A perception check would reveal a notebook speaking of a stranger that had visited the village with gifts and merriment, the smell of ozone trailing behind them.

Steep curving hill leads up to where the bridge to the temple was broken from the village’s side. Observation would note that the dirt is disturbed as if something had been dragged up the hill kicking and screaming. Dried blood stains the dirt path, and a few missing teeth could be found in bloody clumps.

Party can choose to attempt to climb up the severed bridge like a ladder, but mysterious figure will attempt to cut it down from the top when they’re halfway up. Can attempt to disrupt them with a roll, climb faster than the cut can be made, or climb down the makeshift bridge ladder to avoid temp injury. Success leaves them at the entrance to the temple.
Can also walk up the hill and try to form a bridge from magic or find another solution across the gap, similar rolls of success can avoid injury entirely.

Approaching the old temple reveals the door is coated with bloody handprints, broken fingernails and claws scattered about in piles seemingly in a sense of worship or trophy display.

Inside the temple, the full gruesome sight is displayed. The walls are lined with drakans of all sorts dripping blood, half rotting and fresh. Their scales appear to have been torn from their body with force, sundered flesh trailing upon their legs and dripping blood. The further down the length of the humble temple, the more dried and emaciated the corpses become.

At the altar at the end of the aisle, a statue of Shenlong sits presenting an open palm. It appears to beckon a sacrifice. Four fresh bodies line the floor, each stripped of their horns, teeth, and claws along with the majority of their flesh. Their heart scales remain, one brown, one green, one yellow, and the final a sparking blue.

Perception can identify that these plucked corpses are an earth, fire, wind, and lightning drakan, and that removing the latter most’s scale and placing it in the welcoming palm of Shenlong will cause the illusion of the stone altar to disappear, revealing a stairway down into the darkness.

Following the stairway will bring the party deep into a damp cave that smells of ozone and iron, blood soaked viscera, bones, and cracked scales filling the path almost like an ornamented path.

Following the path to the end would reveal a gruesome sight. The guide that had led the party down the river sits without his densely spun robe, revealing their form. A nagual soaked in blood, scales of all colors seemingly stitched to their flesh, tail, and body.

They would begin to rant with a feverish, maniacal calm and of the fortress in the sky that only true dragons could reach, of needing scales to recieve the blessing of their true god. Their eyes are blood shot, their body soaked in blood that wasn’t their own. Draconic talons have been tied around their wrists, and upon the party finishing their observation the nagual would attack.

Defeating the mad man ends the cycle of bloodshed in the lost village, revealing the dragon cat’s research into ascending to the sky fortress in a blood soaked tome. The secret altar at the back of the blood soaked cave holds a single, luminescent azure scale that appears to be perfectly polished. Watching its surface appears to reveal the sight of an endless storm, bolts of lightning and energy trailing across its surface with vibrance.



Rewards:

Scale of the Coming Storm - A luminescent, azure scale that gleams with a mirror sheen, depicting a surging, living storm upon its glassy surface. Condensed lightning energy thrums through it actively, and the artifact appears to vibrate of its own volition whenever its held. Those who hold it would feel a coming storm, regardless of where they stand.

Macabre Tome - A blood soaked manifesto of raving rants about the sky warden by a mad nagual that wished to be a dragon. Reading between the insanity and egocentric babbling would reveal decades of insights into how one might ascend to the Skywarden’s fortress, countless efforts of trial and error with gleams of potential into what is required to reach high enough in the sky that one is welcomed.

Frozen Claw - A pristine claw that feels chilling to touch, stripped from a powerful ice drakan and cherished with love and care by its possessor. It chills whatever it touches, and no amount of heat appears to be capable of removing its ethereal frost.