|
Francis winces as the sonic scream tears through the room, leaving Marcus badly battered. He quickly walks over and lays a hand on Marcus, casting soothing healing magic into him.
"I hope that helps. Francis says, and then follows Marcus into the room. He quickly prays for guidance and then begins looking for traps himself.
Once Marcus is attended to, Cira hesitantly follows into the next room and makes her way towards Grargath and the desk.
The group does not find any evidence of traps in the room.
Atop the writing desk are four scrolls, written in a cramped handwriting, but the words seem to shift and move when read.
There are five labelled flasks on the eastern tables: two vials of oil of keen edge, a potion of undetectable alignment, a potion of protection from acid, and a potion of protection from fire.
Grargath examines the scrolls with caution, but feels his head start to ache as he tries to focus on the words. He notices Cira walking towards him and the desk. "Any idea wha' these say?" he asks. "It's like th' words are hidin' from me when I try t' make 'em out."
Cira looks over the scrolls, watching the words swim about the page. "It's a bit disorienting, isnt it? Hopefully these aren't like that last bit of parchment," she says, thinking of the strange sheet of paper from before, and passes her hand over the scrolls.
As the words on the scrolls stop their swirling, Cira picks them up one by one to read their contents.
"They're spell scrolls," she says to Grargath as she shuffles through them, though loud enough for the others to hear. "Scrolls of campfire wall, excrutiating deformation, haunting mists, circle against chaos... those are strange spells."
She places the scrolls back on the desk and turns back to the room. Noticing Marcus near the chest, she tenses and takes a step back. "Please be careful with that," she says, remembering the shriek of the door.
Marcus checks the chest for traps, mumbling "What's the worst that can happen."
If he doesn't see any traps he tries to open the chest, trying the keys if it is locked.
Not finding evidence of a trap, Marcus unlocks the chest with one of the keys on the ring. Before the chest pops open, however, the lock forms a screaming mouth, similar to what manifested on the door to the study. Once again, the sonic waves batter the bard, leaving him bloody and dazed.
Inside the chest are six, thick books, bound in leather and steel. Each are numbered with a numeral.
Marcus stumbles back from the chest, then falls on his butt. Shaking his head he slurs "yoush guysh open thesh nexsht one. I'm jussht going to lay down and take a napsh".
Suiting action to words, he slumps over backwards for a while.
"Scrolls of campfire wall, excrutiating deformation, haunting mists, circle against chaos... those are strange spells."
"Hunclay was a strange man. An' completely paranoid."
Right on cue, Grargath hears the latest trap suddenly spring to life. He hurries over to Marcus and the chest. " 'Ere, I'll check out these books." He examines the book first, making sure there are no signs of anything dangerous.
Grargath carefully reaches in and places a hand on the first book. If nothing happens, he picks it up and looks at the cover.
Growling that his well deserved nap was being interrupted by Francis, Marcus reluctantly drags himself to his feet and hands over the wand.
Recieving the healing he sighs and groans.
"OK, well that's it for this floor I think. Basement? I suspect he has one of the Lords of Hell down there just waiting to eat our souls. Might as well get it over then."
Grumbling, he prepares to head down stairs.
The leather of the book is of indeterminate origin, and gives off a faint and unpleasant scent. The cover's edge is rimmed in burnished steel and the front bears a small brass plaque that reads "Property of Balthus Hunclay".
A quick glance at its pages reveals that it is a spellbook, one of six in Hunclay's possession.
Cira whistles and runs her hand across the spines of the books. "These are probably worth a small fortune," she says to Grargath. "I can't even guess how many spells are stored in all of these."
"OK, well that's it for this floor I think. Basement? I suspect he has one of the Lords of Hell down there just waiting to eat our souls. Might as well get it over then."
Standing back up, she gives the bard a comforting pat on the shoulder, nodding in agreement at his suggestion with a grin. "I'm happy to see you haven't lost your enthusiasm, Marcus. Shall we?"
Within this glass-domed chamber is an enormous telescope that sits upon a platform over a veritable sea of metal gears. An angled metal chair sits below the device, within reach of a cluster of pedals and levers that enable its occupant to perform adjustments to the telescope's orientation. Tables covered in books and charts occupy the southeast corner. The view of the surrounding skies afforded by the glass dome is breathtaking in its expanse.
Around the edge of the dome is a foot-wide ledge, upon which sits a strange creature. It looks like an obese infant, but with leathery skin mottled with spots of grime, curling ram's horns, and black eyes with no pupils. Four wings, like those of a bat, are folded behind it. When spotted, it grins wickedly, its pointy teeth as black as its eyes.
Marcus smiles warmly at Cira's concern, "We've got a job to do and I'm already dreaming of drinking the tavern dry once we finish this small matter. As long as this happy stick" brandishing the healing wand, "remains potent I'll bravely blunder through all the deathtraps here." with a smirk and a wink, "just stay well back when I open new doors."
----
Marcus looks about the room, marvelling at the technology.
This man already had such weath. What could possibly have made him so greedy to give up all this to traffic with Kobolds. Well, at least he met a deserving fate.
Marcus' gaze vectors on the strange creature and it's wicked smile. "Oh, lovely. Um, Hi."
Smooth bard, smooth
|
|
"Can you imagine one of the Dukes of He'll serving a wizard who died when a dilapidated tower fell in on him?" Francis said with a chuckle.
Francis follows Marcus down the ladder and let's out a low whistle at the impressive technology in the room. He's not really sure what to make of the little creature on the ledge so he decides to hold his tongue for a moment.
The creature takes flight, flapping on its four wings, and settles atop the telescope. It makes a series of complex gestures, black eyes glinting in the light.
As Cira steps into the room, she has only a moment to gaze around the space in awe before she notices the creature fly up and sit atop the telescope. She takes a wary step back as she stares at it with interest.
She snaps her fingers in realization. "It's a homunculus!" she says. "They're miniature servants created by spellcasters from their own blood. They're mostly just tools to carry out tasks." Another realization dawns on her and her voice becomes worried. "They share the basic nature of their creator, and if their creator dies..." She swallows and looks around at her companions, then back to the creature. "...they're driven violently insane."
Marcus swallows as he looks at the thing on the telescope.
"Well, its not attacking yet, so thats good I suppose. Do these homo-whatsists have a weakness to anything like iron ir silver, in case it does attack."
"Mmm, not really. Well..." Cira says, thinking back. "In and of themselves, they don't have any special defenses or weaknesses. But their creator could add things like that if they wanted, and considering the rest of Hunclay's house, I'd be surprised if he didn't."
She sighs. "Unfortunately there's no way to tell without knowing how it was made. And trial and error, I guess."
Grargath shakes his head, watching the small creature with confusion. Hearing Cira's words, he grips the handle of his axe with alarm, but refrains from drawing it. "I don' like th' way it's grinnin' at us," he mutters. "But as long as 'e stays put maybe it's safe t' check th' room out."
"I don't like it either," Cira agrees. "Let's just... make sure we keep an eye on it."
She walks slowly to a table covered in charts, sparing several glances up at the creature as she looks over the papers.
Cira turns away from the papers to look at Francis. "Following anything it appears to want us to do seems like a terrible idea," she agrees. She glances at the creature before turning back to shuffle through the papers. "The faster we're out of here, the better," she mutters to herself.
The table holds dozens of star charts, most of which focus on strangely empty-looking swaths of the night sky. Along the edge of the first map, four words have been scribbled:
Eox
Aucturn
Carcosa
Dominion
The homunculus flaps to nearby Marcus and again gestures to sit in the chair.
Cira watches the homunculous fly to Marcus, raising an eyebrow at the bard as the creature gestures towards him, then turns back to the star charts in front of her, reading over the scribbled handwriting and voicing the strange words quietly to herself.
"Eox, Auctum... no." She squints at the word. "Aucturn? Yes, Aucturn. Carcosa, Dominion..." She frowns slightly, wracking her brain in an attempt to figure out the significance of any of the words.
Marcus looks at the monster, then the chair and recalls recent bouts with painful traps and growls.
"No way I'm sitting in that thing chubby. Try again."
Looking at the list, then the telescope thing.
"Something to do with the heavens? I know not, thinking is surely not my sting suit. We need to find something I can stab. Or a tavern. Why can't evil wizard lairs be full of taverns and drinking contests anyway?"
Aucturn, know as the Stranger, is the eleventh and furthest flung planet of Golarion's solar system. Little is known about it, as it is the only planet not tied to the rest via portals.
"Oh, he was definitely interested in the heavens," Cira replies, turning away from the table. "These," she says, waving some of the papers in the air in front of her, "Are star charts with some notes added by, I assume, Hunclay, but I have no idea what those notes refer to." She shuffles through the papers in her hands before holding them out towards Marcus and Francis. "Maybe one of you will have better luck?"
Marcus glances again at the list, and snaps his fingers.
"Of course, these two are planets. Eox is the sixth planet, the dead planet. They say there are ancient ruins there, filled with undead. Auction is the furthest planet, the only one we not tied to known portals, the real mystery of the heavens. I do not recall anything about these last two, however."
"So if Eox an' Aucturn are far away planets, maybe our pal Hunclay was testin' how far out 'e could see with his telescope?"
Grargath furrows his brow, looking between the notes Cira found and the homunculus on the telescope. "Wonder wha' those last two are then if tha's th' case."
Grargath takes a quick look around for anything else of note, being careful to give the creature a wide berth.
More info on the planets can be found here.
The homunculus chomps its teeth in annoyance and flutters to the top of the telescope. It squats there, watching the party with beady, black eyes, before sticking its hand into its gut. Clay moves like liquid to reveal a silvery wand, crafted to appear like a bolt of electricity. A single blue gem sits in the tip. The homunculus waves it around before pointing it at Francis, then Cira, before finally settling on Marcus.
The insane construct grins wickedly.
Grargath takes a step back, watching the wand's creation with disgust. He quickly pulls out his axe and shield, ready for a fight, and gets in line with Francis. "So yah are lookin' fer a fight, then," he grunts.
Marcus looks at the thing, the wand, then notices it pointed at him. His hand drops to his whip as he takes a step back.
"You're about to make a big mistake, chubby."
Arcane power builds first at the base; blue energy crackling along the shaft with a threat of Marcus's impending electrical doom. The creature's eyes widen in anticipation as it gestures wildly at the bard with the wand... only for a tiny puff of smoke to emerge from the end.
The homunculus stares at the wand in confusion.
"Oops, my turn"
His hand flashes to his whip and has it out and lashing in an instant, aiming to get the creature to drip the potentially deadly wand.
As Marcus' whip fails to make contact with the creature, Cira sends two bolts of energy hurtling towards the homunculus.
Grargath frowns as he looks between his axe and the homunculus out of its reach. He quickly sheathes the battleaxe, retrieves one of his remaining throwing axes, and chucks it at the monstrous creature.
"Damn!" shouts the dwarf as the axe goes sailing past.
The homunculus doesn't react at all to damage dealt, ignoring the blows as chunks of clay are blasted off of its infantile form.
It swoops towards Francis, lowering its head to bring its large ram horns to bear. The impacts knocks the air from the lungs of the cleric, while the homunculus flaps about him on its four wings, looking for an opportunity to bite.
Scooping his whip back up, Marcus discards ideas of bothering to disarm this thing and goes lethal, charging his whip before lashing out.