She must have been possessed by a grognard of a wizard.
He tries to stifle back his laughter, knowing full well her worst was still his best.
He nudges Marsh quietly, "So about that new technique you wanted to show off..."
The sound of hushed whispers in some foreign language can just be made out beyond the door. Surprisingly, after a moment, a screeching, high-pitched voice shouts back.
The voice sounds frantic and hostile.
Captain Roslyn steps up next to Warshawski. "What, is that Undercommon? Darkfolk, most likely. I only know a few words... something about eating you all?" Her hand goes again to her longsword.
I listened as the mooks on the other side of the door babbled at us, translating for everyone else.
"They want us to leave. They think we're with... someone.... and will rouse the dark thing from the altar and it will eat everyone."
"These wretched souls sound terrified. Maybe we just need Marsh to chase them away. Without hurting them."
Bacarov grinds his teeth. "Perhaps if we simply leave them...or threaten to do so."
He studies the door for a time.
"Perhaps if we locked them in, the threat of isolation and starvation will pry them loose for questioning?"
Bacarov doesn't quiet understand their words but picks one or two out that sounds like the tongue used in the cold lands of Ustalav. "Deschide ușa sau ne blocați în interior pentru a muri..."
He glances over his shoulder and says, "I told them if they don't come out, we will lock them in permanently."
Dalton doesn't draw his sword, but lets his arms rest loosely at their sides, ready to jump into action at need. For now, though, he looks at the door, waiting for the response to Sebastian's strange-sounding proclamation.
"Locking them in? This place is a prison in its own right, I doubt they will mind much." He looks at the shambling walls, "Besides, there may be valuable information in there and other ways in and out."
When he hears the Aklo he winces, not understanding the language but due to the grating sound of it.
"... I still say we just bust it down."
Marsh nods at Warsawski's and Roslyn's words.
"Darkfolk are probably talkin about the ghouls or that thing that clawed its way outta here. I woulda locked myself in too."
"Can you tell em we got rid of the monster and they can pass Roslyn? Yellin at em in that chaos tongue doesn't seem like it'll help further our negotiations here."
"In any case, I'm not lookin for an unnecessary fight that's got no payout."
From beyond the door, the tiny voices again babble, seemingly amongst themselves:
Roslyn shakes her head, confused, and attempts to translate: "They don't sound too happy about whatever you just said to them, Bacarov. Something about 'don't let it in,' I think... and a number. Five. They sound scared, but I don't know if it's because you said you'd lock them in. If they're Darkfolk, well... I don't think they can burrow, but who knows? Nobody can navigate these tunnels like they can. They might know another way out."
She nods at Marsh's suggestion and speaks back to the creatures in broken Undercommon.
After a few moments, the sound of shuffling comes from behind the door and objects seem to be moved away from it. The door does not, however, open, as the denizens of the room continue to whisper to one another in their strange language.
If no one else immediately acts to open the door, Dalton will walk over to it, untying the knot of his scabbard-belt around his waist. Holding the scabbard (with sword inside) by the belt with one hand, Dalton opens the door. Cautiously, and while holding the scabbard belt aloft, the monk pushes open the door. Hopefully, his peaceful intentions will be recognized.
The babbling behind the door was unmistakably Undercommon, though he didn't speak a word of it; the shuffling and moving of items behind the door was very clear however.
"My curiosity is killing me." He doesn't bother to draw his bow and nonchalantly walks up to the door. "Shall we?"
Dalton opens the door nonchalantly and finds no resistance. However, to his surprise, the room beyond appears to be unoccupied. Mounds of rubble line the walls of this partially collapsed chamber, but here and there patches of brickwork are visible on the floor and walls. One rounded alcove remains in the northern wall, though it lacks a sarcophagus.
It takes a moment for the pair of tiny shapes hiding amongst the rubble to become visible. Though they shuffle nervously, neither makes any move to approach. The pair do appear to be Darkfolk, the shrunken, halfling-sized subspecies known as Dark Creepers to be exact.
It is obvious that the creatures are frightened and uneager to fight, but they don't seem to trust you yet.
As the door swings open Marsh speaks.
"See,I told ya we should have Warshawski talk to em. Violence isn't always the answer. Nothin wrong with usin a little sugar every now and again."
Marsh misses the daggers so he appears very much at ease as if talking with two tiny little unarmed persons.
"Heh, cool dark creepers, never actually seen one before. What's that they'r sayin? Wonder if the cult down here was gonna use em for sacrifices or somthin?"
Dalton, seeing the daggers held in their small hands and recognizing the general gist of what they were trying to say, shakes his belt with his sword scabbard inside.
He opens his mouth again and speaks in a loud, slow, clear voice.
"I hold my weapon out of reach! We mean no harm. Put the daggers away, and we can do this peacefully."
He glances over at Captain Roslin. "Er, can you translate?" he asks, in a normal voice.
Dramin looks directly at the little creatures and tries to commit each feature to memory. Its not long until he hears the faint sound of undercommon and notices the glint of the knife.
He just watches as Dalton and Marsh try to communicate and gives off a smile.
"I really need to learn some of this."
He holds out his empty hands and pantomimes that he means no harm as well.
They looked small and pathetic but I knew just how deceiving looks could be. Goblins were small and pathetic and they would sing songs while eating your eyeballs from your still breathing body.
But we needed information and our actual enemies were nastier, tougher, and meaner than anything we'd ever fought before. Making new enemies was like pouring coffee into a cup with a hole in the bottom. A waste of being awake.
"Some things are universal. Let me try something. Bacarov, back me up. Remember when you used to be happy."
I made a show of disarming myself. The silver dagger. My battle scarf. I left those on the floor. Then I walked in, just a few steps, and began to dance. A simple dance, designed to entertain. The sort of steps which lifted the spirits and made the heart beat. Festival dancing.
Dalton steps back to give Warshawski room to work.
Roslyn attempts to translate for the party, but it is clear there are parts of their words she does not know. "Something about you not being somebody- Keep... Keepers? Not sure what that means. They asked you to stand down and let them pass and they won't attack."
But before she can offer any other thoughts, Warshawski begins her dance. The two dark creepers look at each other confusedly, then seem to become enraptured by the movement, and slowly lower their weapons. They soon become excited- as excited as a dark creeper can be, anyway- and begin to chatter.
Captain Roslyn watches with one eyebrow cocked, folding her arms across her chest. "...you are the strangest investigators I've ever seen," she admits. "But I'm not complaining. They seem to like you. They're asking for forgiveness, I think. Said the old men hired them for something- clearing a tunnel. We need to figure out a way to talk to these things properly. I think they know a lot that could be useful to us, but I doubt they'll come up into the light."
I had danced the previous evening, as I always did, in honor of the Blessed Spark but I this moment, right now, was the first time I had truly enjoyed myself in a while. I laughed and took the hands of the strange little people. I pulled them in to dance with me.
"Maybe someone should run up to the surface and buy a scroll of a translation spell?"
Marsh stops and stares as his toothpick falls from his teeth.
"Whoa."
He also seems to be enthralled and can't take his eyes off Warshawski.
" . . . um . . . what did you say Warshawski?"
Funny how people can say so much with so little.
He looks at the creepers dancing and gives off a hearty laugh and pats Rosyln on the back, "You have no idea how we function, believe me." His tone is jovial and he spends a moment watching and just letting a breath float out. His eyes dart to Marsh for a moment and he lets the man stand agape for a bit before breaking the ethereal mood in the air.
"Tongues should work. It shouldn't be much issue if we could find a scroll, it is my specialty after all."
He thinks for a moment pensively, "If they wish to pass we should let them. When they are done of course." He sorts through his coin pouch, "Though I am a little light."
"How much would a scroll like that be?" Roslyn asks, fiddling through her things. "I'll lend you a bit. Just be quick. I don't trust these things to stay all smiles and rainbows for long. If I know anything about Darkfolk, it's that they're paranoid. Even a dance party won't keep them happy for long."
While waiting for Dramin to return Marsh continues to unintentionally leer.
Bacarov waits, only offering a bit of advice along the way. "These little miscreants may be able to offer us navigational information on these tunnels. Perhaps a secret passageway or two can grant us the advantage we need against this monster." He looks to his pack and the case holding his vihuela and contemplates the notion to add music to Warshawski's efforts. "We should also see if they can truly identify the "old men" involved. Perhaps secret one of them topside to facilitate the endeavour?"
Dramin takes out his pad, flips a little and turns to Rosyln, "Not that much... Only a month's pay or so." Before she has a chance to react he rushes back to the surface and purchases what he needs.
Some time later he returns huffing, "I should never have mocked the stairs."
He takes the delicate scroll out of his case and eyes both Warshawski and Bacarov; though remembering the strangeness of the inspector he walks up to the dancing medium instead. "So Warshawski, here it is."
He pats her on the shoulder as she dances and reads out the arcane text. "We only have about 30 minutes with it."
In Giant
"Testing. It works I hope."
He gives her a wink.
"Have fun, I'll keep an eye on Bacarov for now and make sure he doesn't get too zealous."
When I felt the spell slide over me I began to slow, bringing the dance to a halt. My chest was heaving and my heart pounding. I had to down a swig of water before I spoke. I could feel the sweat running in drops down my face and arms.
It was glorious.
"Friends," I said to the darkdwellers, my arms spread wide. I kneeled down to be on their level. "Thank you for dancing with me. My companions and I seek to stop the evil thing. I would like one of you to tell me about the old men. And the other to draw us a map of these tunnels. The best you can. Especially if there are any hidden passages we can use that the old men don't know about."
Vinnie feels a nudge in his side; looking to his left, he sees the monk weapons student with his arms folded and a small smirk on his lips.
"It's impolite to stare," Dalton reminds the bigger man.
As the strangest dance in Carrion Hill's history comes to an end, the two Dark Creepers look at one another and eagerly begin to chatter... now with words Warshawski can understand.
"You seek to stop the evil thing? We will help! We are very helpful, yes! The old men- the Keepers of the Oldest- they hired us to clear tunnels and keep out intruders. They were ugly and cruel and smelled awful."
The other pipes in: "One of them wasn't so old!"
"Shut up! No interrupting! The Keepers were guided by the Dancer in the Dark. She whispered evil things to them and taught them how to bring the evil up from the dark. It came, but the Keepers could not control it. It squashed two of them and drank their blood, while the other three ran. The evil thing is after them. It wants to eat them up. It'll chase them all over this town until it gets them."
The other holds up a hand to shush its partner and interjects: "It's using the tunnels to get around but it isn't going to live down here. It wants to be up top where the juicy people are. Once the big lantern in the sky goes out, it will run around wherever it wants and there'll be no stopping it. You should stay down here with us and we'll keep you safe until it eats all the people up there and leaves to find another city!"
"Shut up and draw the map! Listen, the evil thing needs to eat the other Keepers to be complete. Maybe if you kill them first it won't get any stronger!"
"Other Keepers..." Bacarov thinks back on their conversation with the mayor and with Rupman. "The heretic Rupman, he seemed overly scared when we intruded upon his premises. And he all but confirmed it wasn't for his undead servitors..." He manages to avoid scowling at Roslyn. How can they allow such heresy in their city? Ustalav already has so many evils, why allow more?
"And there is Arlende Myre...a historian and peddler of narcotics...gone missing as it were...or perhaps his little waifs unwittingly revealed to us he's in hiding." He grinds his teeth with fresh anger. "Scum...undisciplined fools..."
He clears his throat and continues. "This deadman Marshan was specifically targeted by the animal. If what these little beasts say is true, we have targets to eliminate...or at least put to the question." He pats his satchel. "And I...we have a book to research. Let's be quick about it and move on."
"Kill them or capture them, we will definitely have some questions to ask them first," the monk says, his voice hardening. Like Bacarov, he's incredulous that the rot goes so deep into Ustalav's core.
Despite the agreeable wet weather of this region, I do not seem to understand the culture that would allow such corruption to fester, the monk thinks to himself. Outwardly, he says, "Shall we then?" and carefully gestures back the way the group came, toward the stairs.
Vinnie swats back at Dalton.
"Di you see how she was shakin it!? It was freakin mesmerizin my eyeballs or simethin."
The spell broken, Marsh clears his throat and refocuses on the groups task.
"See if the darkl people can give ya a detailed description of each of the five keepers an see if the captain can ID em."
"The spell only lasts so long." I reminded everyone. "Let's break bread with our new friends, get what descriptions we can, and then move forward."
Warshawski proceeds with the plan to ask the dark creepers to describe the five Keepers of the Oldest. Though they talk over one another a bit, attempting to fill in details the other hasn't given yet, the party is able to gather the following information:
1. "The Tentacle-Head Man" - They don't seem to mean actual tentacles coming out of his head, but don't know of any other way to describe it. They say he has darker skin than the rest and an accent. He seemed to know a lot about necromancy.
2. "The Hunchback" - This was one of the ones that the "evil thing" killed in its rage when it was summoned. The creepers say he smelled like the swamp and might have been a druid.
3. "The Young Guy" - He is supposedly the youngest of the group, and he jangled with a lot of little vials and potions. He played with a knife a lot and was particularly cruel to the creepers.
4. "Googly-eyed Guy" - A strange old man with weirdly large eyes that looked in different directions. He was the other Keeper who was killed in the monster's initial rampage.
5. "The Thin Man" - A very old, very thin man with long, wispy gray hair. He seemed very calm and in control, even during the retreat when the monster proved too crazed for them to control. The darkfolk got the impression he was the most closely-linked to the Dancer in the Dark.
Captain Roslyn, listening to the descriptions, takes on a grim countenance. "We can assume one of the dead ones was Old Man Marshan, who owned the house up top that was destroyed. The 'tentacle-head' and the 'young guy' sound like Rupman Myre and Arlend Hyve to me; I'm not surprised to hear they're mixed up in all this. Hyve's a historian, long rumored to be mixed up in drugs, and his involvement with the Pigeons shows he has a manipulative streak a mile long. He'll be hard to find if he doesn't want to be- those poor girls will do anything to protect him. As for Rupman Myre, well, finding him won't be difficult; getting the powers that be in town to allow you to touch him will be the hard part. His middenstone vats are one of Carrion Hill's financial cornerstones. Everyone from the Mayor to the city council will fight to protect him just to cover their own asses. Even the Church of Pharasma has an 'understanding' with him from what I hear. I don't know who this 'thin man' could be, though. There are a lot of raggedy old men in this city that could fit that description."
"Weapon know precisely where Rupman is located. For we escorted him to the mayor's home not more than a few hours ago." Bacarov gathers his gear and turns for the exit. "He seems to be the most dangerous. We end him first, let city politics sort things out afterwards. I have all the evidence I need."
"I'll follow your lead, Bacarov, but let's not neglect Hyve in our investigation. It sounds as if he's a particularly cruel one, and one must never let the cruel escape their just rewards," the monk comments as he follows closely behind Sebastian.
As an afterthought, the monk turns back to the Darkfolk.
"Pardon my discourtesy, I had almost forgotten. Warshawski, I hope you will convey to these gentlemen my sincerest gratitude for the information they've provided." so saying, the monk offers a deep, respectful bow to the investigators' unusual informants.
And what had been a pleasant moment of non-violent investigation turned into Bacarov's crazy crusade with a twist of the knife. I turned to our little friends, conveying our thanks to them before the spell wore off.
"Get yourselves somewhere safe. We're going to take care of the problem but you don't want to be caught in the middle."
Dramin listened to the descriptions and thought about them, though it didn't take him long to connect the dots to Rupman, the necromancer. "Dalton, while none of them match the description of our informant from before, something doesn't quite add up here." He doesn't continue further and furrows his brow pensively.
This is like any other problem, all we need to do is take it apart slowly and little by little.
"We need to take a few moments and plan. We cannot just strike blindly because if one of them ceases to be a part of the picture, it may tip off the others." The words sound familiar, almost identically to the ones he spoke back in Ravenmoor.
And look where that left us. He wards his hands as if to dispel an ill-omen.
"If this thing wants to devour those who called it, we can't just risk killing these men." He recalls various rituals and stories he's heard in the past, "It may be the same thing in the end."
"Something the little animals said rings on my ears. If this monster hungers for the very idiots that summoned it, perhaps we must deny the monster the meal." He continues walking, not showing signs of slowing. "One less necromancer in a land full of heresies...Abadar will be pleased to see the Scales closer to balance."
"Vincent, Captain Roslyn, do wither of you happen to have access to a mage's hood? I'd like a few moments to put Rupman to the question before we dispatch him." He grinds his teeth at the thought of conversing with the heretic. "That harlot Ghlaunder has been a step ahead of us for far too long. Perhaps we now have the advantage, or at the very least can take it."
He glances over his shoulder to Dalton. "With Rupman dead and burned, some time studying this book of theirs, we can pour our focus into ending Hyve. We can start with these girls of his...maybe bring them down to the tunnels to show them just what they're master has been up to..."
"A mage's hood? We have them back at headquarters. I can get one on our way to apprehend Rupman Myre. Believe me, Inspector, I want to see Rupman buried as much as anyone, but I need to make something clear. I've been very forgiving of your team's unusual- albeit effective- tactics thus far, but I can't permit you to murder Rupman outright without something more than these... creatures' word as evidence. Don't get me wrong- we're almost certainly right about him- but our swords stay sheathed until we can back him into a corner and make sure there are no mistakes. Understand?" After a moment, she huffs and adds, "Maybe the damn fools wrote their names in that book the ghoul gave us. Suppose we won't know until we have time to study it."
Suddenly, footsteps come from the stairs leading up to the surface. "Captain!" one of the Crows shouts, fresh rainwater dripping from his hood in rivulets as he appears, "Get up top! We got a situation out here!"
Bacarov remains silent and listens as the Captain stands atop her soap box. You seek the good in your city, and you seek it within the auspices of the Law. Am I of so higher a calling to disagree? Abadar abhors the lack of balance here, I know it. Perhaps she will be part of the solution...
The interruption of his thought by the soldier chills his mind, the cold core of his faith settling over him as he gestures to his comrades. "Studies and trials will have to wait, it seems."
His eyes glow dark blue as he summons up the power of his god to grant blessings for the next few moments.
As is his nature, Bacarov studies the mannerisms of the soldier, then begins searching the area add they emerge upon the surface.
darkvision
Dalton draws his sword as he leaps up the stairs three at a time to investigate!
Dramin hears the Crow rush downstairs and urge them upwards, however he takes a moment to cast Shield on himself and then follows Dalton up the stairs, hands open and ready for anything.
"If this invisible creature strikes, don't be too foolhardy!"
He looks at the Captain, "That goes for your men as well, we can't afford to feed this thing if what the creatures said is true."
Prescience - 6 Uses Remain
Arcane Bond - <SPENT>
2nd - <Mirror Image>, <Resist Energy>
2nd School - <See Invisibility>
1st - <Mage Armor/SPENT>, <Shield/SPENT>, <Gravity Bow>
1st School - <Heightened Awareness/SPENT>
Pearl - <Open>, <Open>
Cantrips - Read Magic (Wizard), Detect Magic, Prestidigitation, Message, Douse
Leaving their unlikely dark creeper allies below in the chambers beneath the Slipper Market, the investigators follow the Crow and Captain Roslyn up the steps and into the ruins of Marshan's ruined house- and immediately the clamorous shouting of what seems to be a riot can be heard.
The Slipper Market seems to have collapsed into utter chaos, with wild-eyed locals dashing through the partitioned-off area surrounding the crime scene unafraid of the Crows' cries of protest or brandished saps. Glass breaks across the way as one of the few permanent shops in the market is broken into and looted. A group of men shouts angrily at a merchant whose cart seems to have tipped over in his hurry to move it, blocking one of the narrow alleyways. Fear, panic, and anger are worn on the faces of nearly everyone visible. Worst of all, the rain has returned in full force, battering down on the hoods and wide-brimmed hats of Carrion Hill's citizens, soaking them all to the bone.
One woman, clutching a child to her chest with one hand and lugging a heavy case of belongings, hastily-packed scarves sticking out from underneath its lid, runs across the fallen partitions and all but screams at the nearest Crow: "Thirty gold! Thirty gold pieces to escort me out of the city! These animals out here are all too selfish, but you'll help me, won't you?" As the Crow attempts to calm the woman, the one who summoned the Captain and the party attempts to explain the situation.
"We're getting conflicting stories from everywhere, but it sounds like what happened is this: a little while ago, less than an hour, Rupman's Vats collapsed. Sounds like our creature breached the surface again. Came crashing up from underneath the docks and plowed right through the walls. Tore the whole place down, stomped around in the streets nearby... killed a couple people and smashed a storefront nearby trying to squeeze into the alley. Some brave fool threw some kind of paint at it or something, but the rain and the walls scrapin' against it meant nobody could tell what it looked like. Damned thing's still invisible, but in the rain people said they saw a big hulking shape, ten feet high or more, screamin' and roarin' and making a horrible racket. There's no containin' this anymore, Cap. Everybody's freakin' out, tryin' to get out of the city all at once. We got riots here and everywhere else. Looting. Most of the exits out of the city are clogged with people who don't have a clue where they're going and what kind of dangers are out there. What do we do, Cap?"
Roslyn's jaw clenches as she observes the situation deteriorating before her. "Dammit," she says, then turns to the party. "...Without Commander Garus around, they'll be relying on me and the other Captains for now. We need to get you to someplace you can study that book and the notes. Unless you have any other ideas, I'd say get to Crown Manor. The Mayor will want to know what we found, and you can make sure Rupman doesn't make any moves until I get there. I'll meet you as soon as I can."
Marsh remains silent in the shadows until most of the party takes to the stairs. As Warshawski moves to follow, Vinnies paw closes around her wrist to slow her exit. It is like a blacksmith trying to grip an egg in a vise. Marsh gingerly releases her arm an gently touches her elbow trying to indicate he wishes to speak.
"Aye, uh, good job an' we didn't have to knock any heads. I'm worried about Sebastian . . . "
Vinnie's eyes drop to the ground.
"I ain't gonna let him hurt those girls . . . I'm not gonna let him get rough with em, you understand me? I hope you'll help me. I don't want any of us havin to hurt one another. My ugly mug scares everyone, maybe you bein a woman you can just talk to the girls like you did those creepers. No one gets hurt."
"Keep Sebastian from loosin his s@%%."
+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +
"Alright, finally something we can all agree needs to get dead."
"Hey anybody got a Glitterdust scroll handy?"
Dalton clasps his left fist in his right palm in front of his chest and bows respectfully before Roslyn.
"Stay safe," is his only reply to her, before gesturing to the other investigators and hastening off toward the Mayor's Manor as quickly as possible. As he goes, he pulls the hood of his cloak up over his head, moving smoothly between panicked townsfolk as he runs.
"This all but confirms Rupman's involvement." He pulls his broad-brimmed hat low and warns the Captain. "Our priority must be the book and ferreting out the conspirators. And if the vats were destroyed, the beast may be headed for Crown Manor..." He leaves the rest unsaid. For the mayor's home is where they'd taken the heretic Rupman Myre. "As for the Vats themselves, if they're destroyed, then the undead servitors are in the loose. Be careful, Captain."
He turns to the others. "Quickly. To the mayor's home!"
Not too long ago, Marsh and I were at each other's throats. Now here we were, him practically begging me for help because Sebastian's diving off the high cliffs of madness into the ocean of insanity.
"We'll keep him from turning into a monster." I promised March. I bid our new darkling friends to get to safety. Then we hurried. Monsters. Vats. Destruction. Death. I wrapped up my battle scarf and rushed through the streets along with everyone else.[/i]