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Everyone made it with a minimum of bruises it seems. I'm fine with checking the secret door, but before we go on, give me a moment please.
Lurgh breathes in through his nose and exhales slowly through lightly pursed lips. A larger puff of smoke escapes, like someone exhaling after a draw of a tobacco pipe. He then begins to utter a few arcane syllables as his eyes adjust, pupils pulsing with magic.
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Despite Agosa's wishes, you decide to at least investigate the secret door before deciding which way to go. It is an alcove 10 feet above the waterline. Rusted iron handles are still embedded in the wet walls, providing a means to climb up to the alcove. The tunnel beyond quickly descends before turning to the west.
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"I think that I am agreeing, we should look for our contact along the m main route. This secret corridor will be an excellent place to retreat if we need it," Guang beams.
Guang will offer to take a position near or in the front, and suggest to Brother Agosa that he stay in the middle, surrounded by all of them.
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"My preference would be to know just how safe an escape route is before needing to fall back to it, but I'm fairly confident we shall not need it, and it is not only lives at stake, but souls as well."
-Posted with Wayfinder
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After investigating the secret passageway, you head back to the beach and make your way into the darkness. Upon closer investigation, Glen notices the sandy beach is covered with footprints and drag marks— tracks left by the smugglers earlier in the day.
This lower cellar of the fortress was hollowed out from the rock of the cliff. A stair was cut through the floor that leads down to the sea cave. A pair of rotting barrels stands against the southern wall, and a wooden door on the western one.
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Proceeding through the door, you enter a storeroom of sorts, probably used by smugglers when they use these passageways. A number of bales, barrels, and crates are stacked in the southern portion of the room. Most hold imported liquor, spices, and assorted odds and ends of a semi-valuable nature. In the northern section, small hollows are cut into the stone of this deep storeroom and iron manacles are set into the walls. You're pretty sure this makeshift prison is used for smuggling illegal slaves, and the floor is still littered with fresh straw and crusts of bread not yet entirely consumed by rats.
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Taking a cue from Lurgh, Glen draws a wand of his own and casts shield of faith on himself. Then he stows the wand in his haversack.
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On the other side of the secret door is a low and musty storage cellar, holding a number of pieces of discarded furniture stacked to the south along with four large wicker baskets that appear to hold the remains of some putrefying root vegetable. A door exits to the west where a stair ascends into the fortress, and the ceiling of that wing of the room is the underside of the stair. Tucked into the hollow beneath the stairs is a small closet. A slight gasp of air escapes from behind its wooden door.
Moments after you step into the room, the tread of several heavy feet thunder on the stairs above.
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Milo curses quietly in orcish.
"That ain't no pointer." He mutters. "Unscrew the lid." He adds quickly, pointing to the secret door, still standing open.
He then uttering a quick arcane spell and suddenly everyone in the room drops out of sight, invisible!
He then ducks behind a nearby crate, out of sight.
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"I'll open the door as soon as everyone's set. Prophet, you ready to rock 'n' roll?" Glen grasps the door in one hand and his elven curve blade in the other.
Taking a position across the room from Glen, "I generally prefer roll before I rock, but if you insist." and then suddenly he, but not just he, but the entire party seems to cease to exist. "This is,. . . disconcerting, but not altogether unpleasant" as he waves his hand in front of his face, not that anyone else can see it.
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A quartet of heavily armed and armored soldiers enter from the stairs. Three of them wear fine sets of splint mail, with falchions at their waist, while the other uses a glinting halberd like a walking staff, and has some sort of insignia attached to his banded mail. That one barks an order at the others "Search the room, but be quick about it. We've been given a solid tip about some smuggling operations being run here."
They take a few minutes digging through the baskets of rotting vegetables, and even cut into an old couch to search inside it. At one point, one of the guards manages to bump into the invisible Lurgh, and shoots one of his comrades a stern glance, obviously thinking it was him. Eventually the group gives up and looks to the commander "Alright, enough of this. Wild goose chase if you ask me. I'll have that man flailed for wasting my time." You hear the pounding on the stairs as the guards leave, and a door shutting behind them at the top.
Moments later, a wooden panel on the wall under the stairs pushes itself loose, and a small, ugly man clambers out of his hiding place. He looks around tentatively before his words slip out in a loud whisper. "H-h-hello? Is anyone there? I believe you may be looking for me."
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Milo watches the men come in and search the room, narrowly passing everyone hidden nearby. His hand clasps and unclasps continuously while they do, trying to keep himself from just lighting the entire room on fire to eliminate the problem.
When they finally leave, he lets out a breath he did not know he was holding, but stays invisible, hiding in among the crates, not trusting the new arrival either.
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The man approaches Glen obsequiously, constantly bowing and lowering his eyes. He doffs his fez and throws himself on the ground.
“Oh, effendi! A thousand blessings be upon you! And a thousand pardons for Masur the Ill-favored, your poor and humble slave. I have failed in my duty, and I beg and crave your forgiveness. I was to meet with you below on the beach, but something terrible has happened. While we were preparing for your arrival, who should arrive at our gates but an entire company of the accursed Pure Legion! May they be smitten with the mange of a thousand jackals.”
Masur fairly trembles with righteous fury and pants to catch his breath.
“Though we have longed for your esteemed presence and have yearned to show you all the delights of Qassabah Heb Amar, the blessed Bey El Makkra sends word that you may not ascend to the rooms above. For, if you do, you will certainly be captured by the Pure Legion”—at this Masur spits on the ground—“and that would be tragedy indeed. The bey cares not for his own security, but for yours alone, I assure you. I am bidden to take you to another route, whereby you may pass through the stronghold undetected and go on your blessed way in safety.”
The small man bows again and once again covers his balding head with his fez.
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Though his actions may seem over the top, Glen is able to determine that the man is truthful, and it's just how he is. "I do not know anything about that. All I know is that these soldiers just showed up earlier today, and started pushing everyone around like they own the place. It is a good thing you found me though., so I could warn you and give you a safe route to the gates. There is an old pathway that hasn’t been used in years but poor Masur assures you that it will lead to the southern postern gate of the stronghold where I have arranged for camels to be left for you. They are a gift of the Bey. Ride to the south, taking the Old Road west of the orange groves, and you will soon reach Wadi al-Hesr.
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Glen informs his companions, "This man speaks the truth, and his motives are sincere. We should probably heed his advice and accept his offer to help."
He turns to their contact, "Masur, you are not our slave. If you offer assistance of your own free will, then we accept. Please, lead the way."
As the party follows the guide, Glen mutters, "A camel ride. This should be interesting. Any tips, Masur?"
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Guang is less suspicious of the man's mannerism, being from the east himself, albeit much further east. He returns Masur's bow, though avoids prostration.
"We humbly thank you for your assistance, Masur! Please convey our most sincere thanks to the bey as well as our apologies that the circumstances do not allow us to properly enjoy his estimable hospitality. We are at your disposal as to where we should go, honorable Masur, and may every benevolent god richly grace your household with prosperity and a dozen sons."
To Milo, he says, "Brother Milo! You have twice now shielded us from, how do you say, catastrophe. May you also be blessed with a dozen sons!"
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"Oh thank you, thank you. Humble Masur will lead you to a secret passage now." You follow him, and quickly realize that he's bringing you to the secret entrance that you already found earlier, and he seems quite surprised that the passage is open. He gives you directions to the southern gate where the camels will be waiting for you. After some more over the top bowing and prostration, Masur leaves you. "Good luck to you. I would only get in your way should I join you, and much has to be done above—soldiers to be schmoozed, drinks to be liberally poured, servants to be reassured, camels and gear to be prepared. Do not worry though, Masur will make sure you get to Wadi al-Hesr."
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In the closet Masur was hiding in, you spot an old cloak, that looks as if it has been used as a dust cloth.
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The short slope descends to a dark hallway, its walls and ceiling gilded with smudged and incomprehensible mosaics and shallow alcoves opening to the sides. Wide cracks and fissures in the ancient rock allow the rising tide to infiltrate this corridor, and the floor is awash in swirling sea water. The air reeks of rot and brine.