Once again, a single one of Ostendiel's blows connects, but the water-fey's tough skin protects him from the monk's fist.
As Sard’s bolts of force strike the fossegrim, he winces in pain, then throws up his hands in surrender! Swimming effortlessly to the surface, he calls out in Common, ”I yield, I yield! I offer you treasure and knowledge in exchange for my life! I can tell you of Ironwhip and his gray dwarves!” He makes a dismissive gesture with one hand and the undead axeman sinks to the bottom and slinks back into the thick reeds on the bank.
The massive sphere of water continues to churn and swirl around Tarn, who is oblivious to the fossegrim's surrender.
Tarn’s struggles bring him to the very edge of the sphere of water before a strong current sweeps him back toward the center! The fossegrim’s brief look of defeat shifts to one of undisguised delight as Lis speaks to him. ”A talking shark, here in my river! Well, I surely don’t know what an Aspis badge is, nor what an Aspis is, for that matter, though a badge I have heard of. Perhaps if you tell me what an Aspis is, I might be able to answer your question. Is that truly all the information you want? I presumed you were headed for Slave Mountain, and would want to know about those who dwell inside it.”
When Sard mentions Tarn’s plight in the liquid orb, the fossegrim turns his attention to it and exclaims in a mild tone, ”Oh, he is a clumsy fellow, isn’t he? Why doesn’t he just swim out?” The river-fey rises up and strides casually across the surface of the water, gesturing to call the orb a bit closer as he moves. When he’s next to it, he reaches a slender arm inside, calming the currents within at the same time. He pulls the sodden dwarf out of the orb and deposits him unceremoniously on the large rock on the river bank, before sending the ball of liquid splashing into the current below. ”There, that’s done. Now, as I said, I offer treasure and information in exchange for my life, which I presume you still plan to spare? As to the treasure…”
His sentence unfinished, he dives with infinite grace into the flowing waters, swimming to the spot where Ostendiel first reached out to touch the illusionary treasure. Reaching deep into a crevice in the stony river bottom, he pulls out a small net bag which glimmers with very real treasure indeed. This he presents to Ostendiel, as he’s the closest visitor who actually has hands to receive it. The bag contains coins and gems, including one particularly large, blue-green gem that radiates magic to any who seek it.
”So, anything else you wish to know?” he asks indifferently.
"I don't know a great deal, but I've learned a thing or two," the fossegrim replies. "There are at least one hundred of the gray dwarves, and they keep many slaves. Their leader is called Chergin Ironwhip, and I understand he has power over stone."
"I have not been inside the mountain - who would wish to go into such a place? I live here in my river, entertaining myself by enticing passersby or drowning those who survive the fall from Ironwhip’s sanctum. They throw sacrifices down the waterfall to me, which is lovely of them, really. If I may ask, why are you all here, interfering with my day?"
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A dwarf with power over stone? That kid Kleines was telling me about someone that fits that description. What was his name....Garrett? Garf? Something like that. Oh well, back to the matter at hand.
"Us? Oh we were just passing through. So sorry for interrupting your day by allowing ourselves to be attacked. Tell me, what sort of creatures are these sacrifices they send you?"
"Oh they throw down all manner of sacrifices," the fossegrim says, nonchalantly studying the backs of his fingernails as he speaks. "I can't say I pay a lot of mind to exactly what or who, I just prefer it when they're still alive when they hit the water. As to how the mountain is guarded, I've no idea. Again, not a place I'd want to visit."
The party makes their way across the river - aided by the fossegrim, who lowers the water enough for Sard and Tarn to ford the flow. As Lis returns to her normal form and steps from the river, the fey notes the Wayfinder hanging around her neck. "Oh, Pathfinders! I have heard of your Society, and your desire to acquire wealth whatever the cost. I must admit a certain admiration, that you don’t let silly ideas like this morality thing stand in your way. There were some folk through here not long ago, who are well acquainted with the Society’s acts, being kind enough to spread the word of the danger of attempting to negotiating with the Pathfinder Society. I don’t know if they were these Aspis you mentioned earlier or not, they didn’t say.”
He pauses, considering his defeat at the party’s hands – and teeth – and adds, ”It seems to be true, the Society is a dangerous foe, and now you’ve taken my wealth from me."
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Ostendiel's brow furrows and his face takes on a grim set during the conversation. Eventually, after inspecting the treasure bag, he was a few steps away and tries not to get involved in the conversation. There are many things he does not approve of... but he recognizes that others in the party are probably better negotiating with this reprehensible being.
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Tarn glares at the creature while drying himself off and wringing the water out of his beard. At the mention of the Aspis and the Society, he snorts. "Interestin' how from the outside the two groups seem alike," he mutters, shaking his head. Not very different after all, really...
"Ah guess ol' Aram Zey'll be a bit vexed that the Aspis are here in his private playground," he mutters. "I canna say I'm surprised... the Aspis seem to get wind of anything the Society does, sooner or later." He shakes the water from his ears, and then hefts his crossbow meaningfully towards the fey. "So, shall we finish this fella and get on with it?"
The fossegrim's face takes on a look of mild alarm as Tarn's crossbow swings his direction, but it quickly shifts back to an arch smile and a wicked glint in the eye as he says, "It's as your fiery friend says, dwarf. If the society you represent is as admirably immoral as I was led to believe, then by all means, kill me - though it won't net you any more treasure. But if you think it might stand for something that you think is somehow better, well, be on your way."
As the Pathfinders endeavor to convince Tarn that the best course is to stay the course, the fossegrim decides it’s a good time to make his exit. With the glitter finally having worn off, the nimble fey slips into the water and vanishes, flicking one hand in a dismissive wave as he goes.
Though the walk from the river to the foot of the mountain takes less than an hour, Tarn and Ostendiel have mostly dried off by the time the hike is done. Even from a considerable distance, the cliff face at the base of the mountain appears corrugated from erosion. Coming closer, the Pathfinders can make out two pairs of enigmatic, smiling stone faces carved into the face of the mountain. These towering faces flank a precariously tall, ten-foot-wide stone staircase that leads to a flat plateau about sixty feet overhead.
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Tarn shakes his head at the party's decision, but doesn't object. Seems that by taking a bribe for leaving this thing alive , we've shown what Pathfinders are made of, all right...
Arriving at the stone staircase, Tarn frowns. "Who would build such a useless stair? If they could fly, why have stairs at all? if they canna fly, how do they get up there?" Tarn will examine the area for other possible paths before handing one end of his rope to the best climbing in the group.
"Here, tie this off when you get up there... "
Tarn will wait until the rope is attached before ascending.
The staircase is so devilishly awkward, it seems as if it has been made so on purpose – but the Pathfinders persevere and reach the top, arriving at the plateau. Jagged and barbed iron sculptures of various sizes cover the floor of the large stone plateau. Ahead, a pair of wide stone stairs ascends to a balcony. Shattered pieces of intricately painted pottery and shreds of fine silk are piled along the walls. Four pillars divide the space, holding aloft stone arches covered with pictograms. A wide pair of iron doors bears a ruby-studded engraving of an inferno and a hefty iron lock.
Standing on the balcony are three figures, resembling dwarves with grey skin. They eye the party angrily, crossbows at the ready!
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Ostendiel sighs. Knowing he is not the most diplomatic one, he spends the round getting into a better position. With his fast move, he can get up the stairs and behind one of the crossbow-weilding grey dwarves. He does not make any further threatening moves, waiting to see if others in his party want to attempt to talk to them. If the dwarf in front of him tries to fire his crossbow, Ostendiel will take a non-lethal opportunity attack.
(If the stairs are difficult terrain, you'll need to move him back 5 squares so he's at the top of the stairs.)
The duergar look on in mute astonishment as Ostendiel speeds up the stairs! Their startled faces shift to grim satisfaction, however, as a loud clanking noise is heard between the two northern pillars in the room. The sharp-edged iron sculpture that stands there begins to move, striding toward the Pathfinders, its jagged-toothed jaws open wide!
As it nears Dewberry, the sculpture smashes at the serpent with its iron head!
Sard recognizes the iron creature as an animated object, a construct of sorts.
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Sard studies the statue for a moment before turning to look at the situation on the balcony.
Hm, Shiny's up there all by his lonesome. Let's see if we can't even the odds a little.
After a moment's consideration he pulls out a pinch of ground mica and blows it in that direction, causing a bloom of glitter to erupt and envelop two of the dwarves.
The northern duergar glitters brilliantly as he glares at Sard, while his companion frantically tries to wipe the golden dust out of his eyes, nearly poking a crossbow bolt up his nose as he rearranges the weapon to have a hand free.
Dewberry’s fangs manage to damage the sculpture’s metal skin, and she wraps her sinuous form around it to grapple it! Her teeth may be a bit sore, as it’s hard to bit through the hardened surface of the sculpture, and it does not seem to bleed like her usual prey, but she’s succeeded in damaging it.
Tarn is quite sure that Sard is right, that this is some sort of animated object they’re fighting.
The duergar nearest to Ostendiel decides to deal with the threat at hand – he steps around the monk, then suddenly grows very large indeed, dropping his crossbow and drawing a large axe! The duergar in the center of the platform continues to struggle with the blinding golden dust in his eyes. He also grows larger and draws an axe, but can’t see to find a target!
The remaining grey dwarf, not at all pleased with the ifrit who tried to blind him, raises his crossbow and fires at Sard!
Ostendiel hits the grey dwarf over and over! His last blow misses, but he's not sure if his aim was off or if the dwarf was already falling to the ground! The animated iron sculpture slams at Dewberry again and again, but can't seem to hurt the massive serpent!
Dewberry attempts to keep hold of the wiggling construct.
bleed