In Act IV, Interlude Part 1, the journey of Stazi Kovacevic from Galt to Katheer (while Bash, Dabwick, Grip, and Pandora slept) was revealed:
16 Abadius
On the night of the 16th of Abadius, the Starling was docked at Bellis. Nobody was staying in town, except for Har-Lar, who had taken his leave.
This had been one weird day. And that was saying something. First Barnabus woke the way he woke. Stazi had read Barnabus the previous night, so she knew to expect some sort of tragedy. But she expected tragedy every day.
This is Life, no?
So this wasn’t particularly a shift in her worldview.
Then the others didn’t wake. And couldn’t be woken. This had lead to a minor panic among the crew, but Stazi remained stoic. One of two things would happen:
They wake, or they don’t. This is Life.
She’d talked to Chester, who’d had some experience with Not Waking, and learned that the Stardust Augurs had turned to Druidic magic to sustain him for the thirteen years he’d slept. One of the first spells their kind learns is called Goodberry and it turns a perfectly normal piece of fruit into a magical pill that provides all the nourishment of a full meal. And it hydrates the body as well. Druids abounded in the Verduran Forest, so berries could be attained. In fact—as Chester had been quick to point out—the conclave of the Master Druids of the Wildwood Lodge was only a matter of days downstream.
So, that was the plan. They got some berries in Bellis. These would sustain the sleepers until the Isle of Arenway. On the way, they would either wake, or they wouldn’t. If they didn’t, the Master Druids would be consulted. They would have answers. Or not.
This is Life.
Stazi left the sleeping bodies in the hold and went up on deck for a cigarette. She’d been awake for a full day at this point, in an effort to reset her internal clock away from resting during the daylight hours. She took the first drag and exhaled slowly, watching the smoke spiral up into the sky. The crew of the Starling gave her a wide berth, which she noticed, and appreciated, but it wouldn’t last. The longer they slept, the more likely it would become that the crew would turn to her for guidance, especially after Barnabus made his choice. As always, she would decide only when necessary what to do because, as the priests always asked when she was still just a child, “Why borrow worry from tomorrow?”
They will either wake, or they won’t.
Beneath the wide brim of her blood red hat, Stazi’s face tilted up and open to the sunset’s glow. They’d kept their secrets from her perfectly. She’d read a dozen times the letter Barnabus left behind, the one that didn’t mention her or the many nights they’d spent keeping each other awake, keeping the dreamers alive, keeping watch, keeping time, keeping company.
Stazi cracked her neck one way, and then other, and dug out her rolling papers and tobacco. She would sleep soon and wake to another day on her own.
This is Life.
24 Abadius
The Isle of Arenway had been a bust. The Druids had no help to give. Worst of all, they’d had no information. They didn’t understand what was happening, or how it could happen. And Stazi hadn’t been sure how wise it was to tell them any part of what little she knew. She’d been so steeped in this little bubble where, as a matter of course, people did occult rituals, broke all the rules of magic and reality, and walked lucidly through the Dreamlands—a place most people on Golarion didn’t even knew existed. But after hearing stories from Barnabus about how cautious Dora had been with the Stardust Augurs, who’d seemed to be dying for information about the Dreaming, Stazi had decided to trust Dora’s instincts.
Knowledge is power. Dangerous knowledge is a weapon. And handing a loaded weapon to the ignorant leads to tragedies none can foresee.
So, they got Skywin to get moving again, and they were making for Cassomir, fully stocked with Goodberries. And a decision point had come.
Once the ship was underway again, it began. A respectful nod from a crew member who had never looked at her before, another coming to her with a question the captain didn’t have time for. Their eyes, curious, wondering if they could trust her as they trusted the others who had been so forthcoming with who they were, and how they were, while she—as is her way—had kept herself to herself. She was…
Their last resort.
Now, there wasn’t a single place on the boat to be physically alone, not for one second, even with five people sleeping all the time. And there was nowhere to escape Stanhope’s gods-forsaken screeching on that blasted violin.
Whoever sold him that bow should have their hands cut off.
Because Stazi was just standing around like a useless idiot, Katsin, the quartermaster, enlisted her help in sorting through the dreamers’ remaining belongings for anything that might be of use. It was a distraction. Stazi recognized that she was fighting something inexorable, and must find a way towards acceptance, which was the most basic tenet of who she was and what she did. She’d agreed to help the Halfling with this task (one she could easily perform on her own) and hoped that doing so would begin to wear away her own resistance.
Katsin emptied a haversack onto the deck. Stazi crouched and sifted the items into piles—offense, defense, utility—and the sorting itself had an immediate effect. It occupied some piece of her mind that would not settle long enough to sift through the many layers of the situation she was in—potions, items, scrolls—the many complications and variables that were themselves distractions—weapons, wands, enchantments—spiraling down into the one inevitable truth:
There was no one else.
It didn’t matter if she wasn’t ready to pick up where the dreamers had left off, knowing nothing, including what needed to be done, but if she didn’t figure it out… no one would.
She must step up.
If she really believed that she had been put here for a reason, she must have faith that she was enough.
A sigh from Katsin jolted her consciousness back to the deck. Stazi looked up and saw the Halfling holding the item known as Vanity in her hand—the strange, loud mystery none of them understood. Katsin held it between her small thumb and forefinger lest she discharge it without intending to.
“Is this…” Katsin asked, not knowing how to handle it. “Should we lock it up? Is it even safe to have around? I mean, is it… is it loaded?”
Stazi reached for the weapon, took it from the quartermaster, and stood, holding it both of her hands, a small smile of appreciation for the omens and warnings from the Lady of Graves just fleeting across her lips.
“I will see to it.”
30 Abadius
Finally, on the 30th of Abadius, the Sellen Starling reached Cassomir—just two days after the Jeroboam left.
Tharivol was down at the harbor. Standing amongst the chaos. Seeking his own peace within it. Readying himself for the conversation ahead. Praying.
The Starling tied off and Stazi began the hunt for information about the Aurora. Word was still very much on everyone’s lips, since it only just disappeared out in the Dog's Teeth the day before.
Or so people said.
Stazi thought, I must get out there myself.
And then Tharivol saw Stazi. And he recognized his Sign. It didn’t come in the form of an earth-shattering supernatural event…
It came in the form of the haunted look in a stranger’s eyes.
She needs help, Tharivol thought. And she may not be able to ask for the kind of help she really needs.
So, when this woman came barreling up, asking everyone she passed where to find a Water Breathing potion, where to find boat rentals, did anybody know the Dog’s Teeth well…
Tharivol stepped forward.
He had the spell prepared (one always did as a priest in a harbor town). He knew the area. He knew where to get a boat.
“I’m a Cleric,” he said. “I would like to help.”
Stanhope, meanwhile, finished his duties on the ship and found a runner to bring his letter up to his mom. He was going to give her a little time to adjust to the New Reality. To soak up the good news. He figured he’ll kill an hour or so down in Abbey Green and then make his Grand Entrance after mom had gotten what’s-her-face dolled up and her father, what’s-his-butt, ready to sign the employment contracts (and wedding contracts, of course), but then Stanhope spotted Stazi with someone he didn’t recognize.
“Hey guys! What’s going on?”
What was going on was that Stazi was grabbing a boat to head out to the Dog’s Teeth, where pirates had sunk a ship or something, and she only had this random Elf she’d known for, like, two seconds with her.
“I know this place like the back of my hand,” Stanhope said. “I’m kind of a huge deal around here. Or my mom is, at least. Anyways, you could use some extra muscle and I’ve got time to kill. I’d be happy to lead your party.”
A Nexus.
Later, inside the Aurora, all three of them were Seeded. And Nothing Would Ever Be The Same Again.
They returned to the shipyards. Tharivol knew who’s-who, and Stanhope actually had a name he could throw around a little bit. They got access to Julius Caine and learned all about the Jeroboam, which had JUST set sail for Absalom the day before yesterday.
THEY COULD STILL CATCH IT.
Tharivol secured passage on a fast ship called the Venture, which was leaving right away. They went to tell Chester what they could, Stazi grabbed the party’s Bag of Holding (holding all the food and expedition supplies), and they raced back down to the docks just in time for all three to hop aboard the Venture. They would hopefully catch up to the Jeroboam around the time it reached Absalom.
Later, out in Star Bay, Stazi stood on the deck of the Venture. It wasn’t the same ship. It was a different one. Three months eaerlier, she couldn’t have named a single difference between one ship and another. Stazi knew better now.
But what was the same was the feeling of being on deck, rolling papers in her hand, her fingers ready to perform a rite they had executed a thousand times, and still having no fucking idea what in the Nine Hells was happening.
Except…
She did know.
Now.
She understood. The secrets the Dreamers had kept… they’d sought not to exclude but to protect.
Just as they said they did.
Her hands were shaking. Loose tobacco leaves spiraled into the sea. And her mind struggled against truths.
There was no other path she could have taken. She believed this. The steps we take are prescribed, only the Judgment is in question. The stolen silver candlesticks she never could have sold? Prescribed. Her penance, being ripped from the family she had been trying to feed? Prescribed. The High Priestess, Maiden’s Choir, Winter, the Sellen Starling, the Dreamers, the ritual, and now this? Prescribed.
So whose servant am I now?
Had she ever belonged to Pharasma if something could just pluck her into its dreams? Had the Mother of Souls ceded her claim to… a superior being? Could that be right?
Who will judge me when my time comes?
Her eyes sought out the Elf, standing on the other side of the deck. She didn’t understand exactly who it was he worshipped, but whatever it was, he had something she had pretended she didn’t need—not since her first steps upon this path of servitude without reward, duty and obeisance, and a pledge to protect a world she could not be a part of—and had never received… but something she now needed: he had faith. Not belief, not even trust. And without faith, it was too easy to just… lay down.
And she wanted to lay down.
Was she still someone who didn’t lay down? Was she someone who could walk away from a mission she’d claimed?
Who the fuck am I and what am I doing on this ship?
And what happens now?
Wind. Waves. The cry of a bird. But no answer.
What fucking happens now?
The creaking of the ship. The groaning of a settling rope. A footstep on a wooden plank. No answer.
Someone please…
Tell me what happens now.
And, of course, no one did.
8 Calistril
Nearly a week later, on the Venture, Stazi, Tharivol, and Stanhope were getting to know each other as they crossed the Inner Sea, heading due south toward Absalom.
In retrospect, the idea was obvious. But they’d had other issues to adjust to. And they’d had every reason to believe their information had been good. However, Stazi brought up the fact that the man they were chasing could be scried. “I have seen Dabwick do this twice on the deck of the Starling. I can describe him in detail.”
“Perhaps, both men can be scried,” Tharivol offered. “I know Mun like the back of my hand.”
“We should be sure.”
“We should be sure.”
It took many days of trial and error, but on one day it did work. It worked on Lowls, in fact. And when they saw him sitting like a malignant, cancerous lump at the aft of the Jeroboam… and they saw coastline on their port side… Tharivol made the realization:
“They’re not going to Absalom.”
It took several Commune spells and a few more attempts at Scrying to confirm and catch Lowls and Mun in conversation, but they figured out that their targets were going to Katheer. Some place called the “Mysterium.”
It wasn’t easy to get the captain of the Venture to entirely change her course. None of them had much money on them. But what they did have was a very expensive Bag of Holding filled with a small fortune’s worth of food, water, and supplies.
And so a bargain was made.
The Venture changed heading for Qadira.
1 Pharast
On the 1st of Pharast, Stazi, Stanhope, and Tharivol made their first monthly saves against Seedborne Consumption. And unlike how rough it went for the other party back on the Starling, this time they were not unprepared. Because Stazi had been through this already. Not the suffering, but the care. She’d seen it. She’d helped with it. And at the first sign of fevers, she told Tharivol what spells to have on hand. She took all the lessons she’d learned from watching Vik care for the Dreamers and she got them through the worst of it.
And up on deck of the Venture for the first time in a couple of days, now that she was certain that she, the Elf, and the Idiot were in the clear, she rolled that best kind of smoke: the First One in Quite a While.
The darkest days were not past. They lived in the Dark Days now.
But the oppressive fear and uncertainty that launched this journey had receded. Not by chance…
But by Design.
What once had felt like aimless wandering was revealed, in retrospect, to have served a Purpose. It nurtured within Stazi the skills and knowledge she would need to live in The Darkness.
This had always been her future.
This had always been The Plan.
This… is Life.
23 Pharast
Finally, in the late morning of the 23rd of Pharast, Stazi, Tharivol, and Stanhope reached Katheer.
The Venture docked in the Port, and the Inquisitor, the Cleric, and the Swashbuckler were herded into the Visitor’s Center, where they were made to register. And when they stepped out into the Great Market to get their bearings and some directions, who should be munching on a lunch of delicious fried street-meat nearby, but Nheb.
Nheb saw the angry, foolish reckless one that hurt him so badly. But he also saw the quiet one—one of the healers from the ship. How could this be? Nheb wondered to himself. It seemed almost unbelievable. Is it really them? Why are they here?
Nheb watched the trio finish talking to a local and then they marched off to the west. Oh, well. How weird.
Stazi, Tharivol, and Stanhope headed west, and in front of what turned out to be the Mysterium, they found a scene of panic. Something was Going Down. A gaggle of militant monks—a dozen of them—who all actually seeed like they might also be spellcasters, were gathered around an old man who was yelling at people on the street in a distracted, angry panic while some of the spell-monks were strapping him into a gorgeous suit of mithral chainmail it would appear he had not worn for a long time.
Something was definitely going down. And Stazi and Tharivol recognized the look in the old man’s eyes immediately.
He had been Seeded.
Lowls and Mun were there. And judging by the arming of forces and the clearing of the road, they were there RIGHT NOW and these folks were going in after them.
And they probably didn’t know what they were up against.
Tharivol was the only one who spoke the local tongue, but the old man—Elder Lythiin was his name—spoke Taldane. It took some fast talking from Stazi and a Zone of Truth spell from Tharivol, which they all voluntarily submitted to, but the old man heard them out.
Elder Lythiin answered some quick questions:
“Yes, they’re inside the Mysterium.”
“Lowls has been in there about an hour. Mun, just fifteen to twenty minutes or so?”
“No, there is no way out. None at all. They’re trapped.”
And Elder Lythiin received some quick answers from Stazi, Tharivol, and Stanhope:
“These men are even more dangerous than you suspect.”
“They work directly for the entity now in all of our heads.”
“We have crossed the Inner Sea to bring them to justice.”
And the Elf even knew the name of The Book… the book no one should know was there. And the Elf was sworn to ensure it never sees the light of day.
So Elder Lythiin agreed to allow Stazi, Tharivol, and Stanhope to join them. “But you must stay close,” Elder Lythiin insisted, “and obey all of my instructions. Can you agree to this?”
They could. And they did.
And then Nheb appeared. With a strange little Halfling.
A Nexus.
And Stazi remembered the final assessment from the other party: “That rat’s all right.”
So they enlisted some arcane firepower.
They all entered the Mysterium together. All but the weird, angry little Halfling.
Shortly after they entered, there was the sound of a bell. Not the bell at the Shrine of Thaffaar, so far away, but the bell atop the Mysterium’s pyramid.
Tolling to announce the triggering of the wards.
And at that EXACT moment, nearly 500 miles away, Dabwick woke up in their flat.
First Reference: Act IV Interlude Part 1
Other Notable References: —