You are a Pathfinder.
The initiation is over. You have proven yourself, stood in line during the infamous ceremonies... and you now stand among your peers as a newly inducted Pathfinder member. From now on, you will enjoy both the benefits and the occasional responsibilities associated with this most noble Society. A bright future awaits you.
As you gather among a crowd of fellow initiates outside of the Grand Lodge of the Pathfinder's Society, a gentle rain falls without concealing the sunlight. You enjoy refreshments provided by smiling servants. Masters of the Society emerge and stand upon the balcony, shaking hands and chatting idly with promising new recruits. As you think upon and discuss your fate as newly minted first-rite members, a shadow blots out the sun. The sudden darkness draws the eyes of an entire City skyward, and what you see far above terrifies every single person in the City.
The silhouette of a dragon, enormous curling muscles bound beneath thick hide and steel scales. It raises it's hands and the City of Absalom groans in primordial earthly protest as a wicked magick grips the land. The dragon concentrates, flicks his dagger sharp claws, each the size of a small tower, just so. The precise movement causes the ground deep beneath the Isle of Kratos to twist ever so slightly...
...and nearly every building in Absalom cracks all at once. Even as cathedrals and restaurants and apartment buildings shed their exteriors in a thunderous shattering and more than a few begin to collapse, the dragon lets out an absolutely feral, unhinged war-cry, a horrid sound caught somewhere between a lion's roar and a great lizard's shrieking call, but with the intensity to almost deafen any listener!
The dragon swoops out of the sky with impossible speed, sweeping in a great downward arc and crossing the breadth of all of Absalom in seconds. His draconic breath emerges as a fireball of liquid molten spit, which it hurls down upon one, two, three districts across Absalom. Ballista and arrows fail to reach the creature in it's speed and fury. Then it turns and suddenly, so suddenly, it is above you.
Time seems to stand still for a moment. You feel like those massive reptilian eyes could bore a hole clean through you.
The fireball shatters the ancient First Lodge of the Pathfinders into ash and memory, and ever so violently tosses you away into the black void of unconsciousness...
Thankfully, it doesn't last. Your eyes flutter open, and the first thing you see is the dragon. Then, you notice the bodies, fellow Pathfinder initiates no longer among the living. A storm gathers above him with unnatural speed, and you feel specks of rain dotting your face where you lie, your body stiff and agonized. Lightning cracks above.
You try to move, but at first, your body fails you.
In the distance, you can hear people screaming.
The feral dragon perches upon the now smoldering walls of the Great City and begins to speak in a god-like voice that booms off the distant mountains and rattles your teeth in your skull...
"People of Absalom, heed my warning!
"The tragedy you face today is a consequence of your apathy and your sins, for the witless leaders you have mindlessly left, festering and corrupted, to run the high affairs of your lives. Hear my shrieking draconic roar, witness my absolute and ruthless protest! See me, and know that I am a God to you pathetic worms. I have come to cast judgement on this foul, rotten corpse of a City. Judgement upon you, for all of your many failures."
"For countless eons, my species and I have watched your ever-increasing affluence... with disgust! Everywhere you and your ilk spread, you bring disorder and disharmony with nature! No more! I have come to bring order to your worthless lives. I have come to tear away from your City the very source of temptation and greed, in order to put this power to it's rightful use."
"You have in your possession a stolen treasure, an instrument your puny and treacherous little peoples have never been worthy of! We have witnessed with despair and agony as you have abused this sacred gift for your own meager ends. Producing abominations that have endangered us all. We have watched with hatred and sickening envy as your bastardly kind have cloaked yourselves in false divinity! It comes to an end... now."
"You have but one option to spare yourselves. Bring down the ancient wards and binding enchantments."
"Disarm the clever traps. Peel away all illusion."
"Remove it from the Cathedral..."
"...and bring it to me."
"...Bring me the sacred Starstone, mantle of divinity, stolen power to which you have no claim. Bring this treasure to me, to where I have made my new home, in the mountains above noble Tar Kuata, across the scorching sands of the Parched Dunes, concealed beyond the haunted Footprints of Ravogug, in beloved lands you call Osirion. Do this, and you will be rewarded."
"Fail to obey this command... or at the first hint of any form of resistance or any attempt at vengeance, defiance... and I will annihilate your City and every living soul within it."
"In the meantime... I send you but a small portion of my Wrath, to show you but a taste of my vast power. Know that my armies grow by the day. Your lackluster heroics will only lead to doom for all who remain on this island."
"...You have ten days."
And just as suddenly as this mysterious tyrant appeared, he ascended above with a few flaps of his mighty wings and disappeared into the horizon, obscured by the smoking of the City...
~~~
The Grand First Lodge of the Pathfinder's Society smolders beside you as you struggle to regain your footing.
Within, you can hear shouting and screaming.
But then again, that's what you hear from the inside of most of the buildings around you.
And those down the street.
Absalom plunges into sudden chaos.
You are knocked from your feet and hurt in some manner by the explosive blast of the Lodge's detonation.
...What do you do?
Beorn Thacker
You take 1d4+1 points of non-lethal damage and are knocked prone from the explosion of the Pathfinder Lodge. Roll this in your opening post.
Furthermore, your legs are trapped under a heavy wooden beam, preventing any movement. While you're certain your legs are not broken, it is very painful and just heavy enough that you find it seemingly impossible to move. You can attempt some sort of strength check, call for help, or use some sort of ability to try and free yourself (strength check, DC 18)
Greyal Devrin
You take 1d4+1 points of non-lethal damage and are knocked prone by the concussive blast of the dragon's fireball. Roll this in your opening post. Furthermore, by your dumb luck, a piece of burning wood from the once-proud walls of the Lodge lands squarely on your chest, dealing an additional 1 point of fire damage each round until it is removed (strength check, DC 12) and making it impossible to stand up until you do so.
Percival Aquila
You take 1d4+1 points of non-lethal damage as you are tossed from the balcony of the Lodge. Roll this in your opening post.
You come to your senses prone and face-down in the muck. The fall has also left you stunned for one round. The recent rain has turned the underside of the lawn into mush, of which you just ate a solid mouthful. (No save, tastes bad)
Rionna Yuna
You take 1d4+1 points of non-lethal damage and are knocked prone as the wall beside you explodes outwards, violently tossing you over the nearby fence. Roll this in your opening post. The impact of the fence on your rib-cage inflicts an additional 1 point of lethal damage. Furthermore, a piece of shrapnel from the wooden wall is now embedded firmly in your side, dealing an additional 1 point of lethal damage now and every turn that it isn't removed (Heal check DC 10, or healing magic).