Pems, the item doesn't seem to have any function you can activate.
Quinn sees that he may in fact be in luck as far as liquor goes! Several cabinets line the narrow walls of the oddly angular room with a chopping block, water barrel, and cauldron stand near the room’s only door.
A filthy and ill-smelling humanoid, his large pointed ears twitching, stands ready for threats with a large butcher knife...
"Liquor! And some crazy, pointed eared creature with a large butcher knife, what's that thing?" Quinn looks quizzically to his companions, even though they can't see the creature. "Maybe we can lure it out and get the surprise on the thing? What if I open the door and leap back, taunting the beast, while Tsin and Hektir wait to ambush it and Pems and Mal stand ready with magics?"
Hektir spits at Quinn's description of what lays beyond the door and Quinn's plan.
He looks at Tsin and shrugs. "Do any of you want to get on the table? I'll open the door when you all are in position. Might be that the beast you describe is guarding the liquor cabinet...so is probably very fierce. After all, if I were living here, I'd be drinking night and day to keep my mind off the cold miserable life these people lead..." Hektir's eyes travel to Nadya and he listens to the words coming out of his mouth and quickly changes focus, "...these people here lead noble and hardworking lives. Gozreh bless them all. Uh huh."
Whoops. That's going to cost me.
Despite his wooing failure, Hektir gets ready to open the door.
After people are in position, he will take total defense and open the door.
"Sound plan. Hektir, shall we?" Tsin positions herself as best aligns with ambush.
"From what you saw, Quinn, is there a way around it, if it fails to take the bait?" Tsin raises the greatsword, and makes sure she has clearance when it's swung for the first time.
"Not a chance of getting past it!" without putting the liquor at risk! "We had better follow Hektir's plan and draw it out of the room." While keeping the liquor safe!"
Quinn loads his crossbow and gets ready for the assault, at an angle that's sure to keep the liquor safe!
Nadya seems to ignore Hektir's comments, clearly more concerned with finding her daughter than the tracksmage.
She nods as he prepares to open the door, Quinn firing as soon as he does. Unfortunately, the cleric's bolt goes off a moment too soon, thudding into the door as his longtime companion pulls it.
The creature inside looks up, its eyes going wide at your sudden presence
Hektir:
Malavarius:
Pemsworth:
Quinn:
Tsin:
Antagonist:
Nadya:
The creature is a spriggan, a cruel type of fey.
Pems sends a normal bullet at it!
dealing damage if flatfooted!
Round 1/2, Init 20
AC = 17
HP = 32/32
Weapon Equipped = Good Question
Condition(s) = Cautiously Optimistic
Tsin studies the creature for a moment, seeking the best way to down it.
She sees the butcher's knife, and grins. "Let's see if you know how to use that." Tsin drops the greatsword in favor of the special metal needed.
"Gentlemen, we have another fey here, so bring your best."
Round 1, Init 18
Know Nature
Spriggan, huh? I'll get it.
Hektir moves around the creature, getting behind it before it has a chance to draw another weapon.
Hektir will chop at the fell creature.
to hit;
damage.
Malavarius: 9*
Quinn: 8*
Tsin: 20
Hektir: 18
Pemsworth: 15
Antagonist: 15
Nadya: 15
Tsin strides forward and just barely hits the creature, her sword cutting deep and drawing a cry of pain, while Hektir pushes past it before it has a chance to react, his blade drawing more blood.
Pems stone hits it a moment later and the battered creature looks nearly dead before it's got a chance to react.
Despite its wounds, it gestures, and Hektir and Tsin feel a surge of fear run through their bodies.
Spriggan: 21
Round 2, Init 18
Will Save
Hektir chops and hacks.
to hit;
damage.
Round 1, init 8
Quinn quickly loads another bolt and fires again.
"Kill it! Quick! The liquor is at risk!"
Round 2, Init 20
Tsin grimaces as the creature starts to weave magicks at them. The grimace turns to horror, and Tsin promptly finds herself unwilling to fight.
She remembers the platforms, and their ability to descend, and makes directly for the closer one. "It wants my eyes!! Showed me them in the palm of its hand, looking up at my sightless face!!!" She shrieks, hoping the others will move aside for her retreat.
Quinn's bolt hits, laying the spriggan low, as Tsin turns to flee.
You find a single bottle of sherry among other ingredients in the kitchen. You also discover a tray of baked goods: Six cookies, specifically, one in the shape of a white dragon, two in the shape of ravens, one winter wolf, one goat and a doll-like humanoid.
"Tsin? Tsin! Where are you going, girl? Your eyes are still quite in your head! Tsin, stop flailing about like that!" Exasperated, Malavarius hurries after her and not knowing what else to do, knocks Tsin atop her head with his staff, "Come to your senses, child! We've left Quinn and Hektir with the spriggan-guarded alcohol with only poor Pemsworth to keep them in check. Now gather your wits about you and let's be on our way. Yes, I assure you your eyes are still very much in your head and working properly."
"It is fitting that in a witches' home, even the cookies disturb me." Pems mutters as the room is searched.
Tsin comes around shortly after Mal comes a knocking. "My wits, yes. Is it dead, then?" Tsin manages a sideways glance to determine yea or nay, and settles down when she sees Quinn's bolt sticking out of the fallen body.
She rubs her head, and half smiles a wordless thanks to Mal. "This doesn't bode well, I fear. Rohkar, the innkeeper, and now this, this spriggan." Tsin sulks as she rejoins the group. "I tire of these manipulations." She kneels down to pick up the spriggan's butcher's knife. While close to the body, she swiftly beheads the spriggan. She stands, clutching the head, and walks over to the main room's arced table. She holds up the head, gouges both eyes out, then sets the head down for display.
She wipes off the knife, tucks it away, and walks over to retrieve the greatsword. She returns to the kitchen, observing the tray.
"Are we taking the cookies?"
"What if they're not cookies? What if they're people or other things turned into cookies, hmmm?" Malavarius knocks a cookie from Hektir's hand and back down onto the plate. "Oh for the days when one could find a tray of delicious cookies and think, 'Oh my, what wonderful cookies!' These are dark days we're in. Dark days indeed."
Quinn pauses in his sipping of the sherry, "Not cookies? AAhhh, stupid witchy witches! What are they then, charms, trapped souls? What's that doll looking one, Nadya, would that represent your child?"
Hektir spits as the spriggan falls and Tsin recovers her wits.
"You okay th...hey! Cookies!" Hektir moves over to examine the cookies, counting them and the number of us.
6 cookies. 5 of us! I get two!
Hektir snaps up a raven and the goat (figuring no one wants that one) and offers the rest around.
He tentatively nibbles on the raven, and supposing he doesn't die and it doesn't taste bad, he'll eat the gobble his cookies down.
"Hektir, are you sure you want to trust to witchcrafted cookies??" Tsin approves when Mal swats at Hektir, and cringes when Hektir swoops in to consume a raven's rump of cookie.
"Mal, what are the chances that those cookies were more than cookies?"
Malavarius slaps the raven from Hektir's hand again, "Hektir! You gluttonous fool!" He turns to Tsin, his eyes wide with exasperation, "I could answer that if this buffoon would give me half a moment before stuffing his crooked face! The impatience of youth these days! Honestly!"
Hektir picks up the raven cookie from the pieces on the floor and shoves them all into his mouth. Chewing, bits of cookie crumble fall from his mouth.
He gives Mal a guiltless smiles of enjoying-cookie. Hektir eyes the cookie in his other hand.
Pemsworth nearly chokes when Hektir eats the witch cookie. "Oh sure, witches are bad, but their cookies are just fine..." he mutters as he steps away from the Mal-Hektir slapping match.
It's a spiteful cookie. These appealing treats usually come wrapped in wax paper, sealed with a drop of red wax embossed with the face of a smiling child. Made from sugar and bone meal, spiteful cookies can be made in a variety of shapes, such as humanoid creatures, dragons, or other legendary beasts. When the seal is broken and the cookie unwrapped, the creature that unwrapped the cookie must succeed at a DC 12 Will save or be compelled to eat the spiteful cookie. While initially quite tasty, the treat soon turns to ash, cursing the victim to starvation for the next 6 days, as the feast of ashes spell.
"Ah ha! I thought as much. If you like these blasted treats so much, Hektir, help yourself to that dragon-y one there. It'd serve you right for acting like a bumbling cretin. Now if you're quite done feasting on cookies fashioned from sugar and bone, I would hazard a guess that there are more summerstealing fey about that need to be put in their place, hmm?"
Hektir stuff the goat cookie in his mouth, savoring its cookieness while lamenting the fear that these others have in the witches.
A real man doesn't fear witches.
"Yeah, yeah, don't eat the dragon-y one. Got it," Hektir answers, his eyes going over the other 3 on the tray (1 in belly, 1 in hand, 1 dragon-y, 3 others left). "But there is no excuse not to enjoy the cookieness that is here."
Hektir offers the goat cookie to Nadya.
"You never know what is going to happen to you on any given day. One day your summer has been stolen and replaced by winter. But, on the other side, you might be walking and come across a patch of random flowers. Or find a nice beehive, dripping with summer honey. When you see those moments, you need to accept and enjoy them for as they are," Hektir chews up more of his raven cookie.
"We might fail in our tasks, but I'll not die without tasting cookie again...nor being afraid to live. These cookies are meant to be enjoyed, except that dragon one, and I would offer them again."
Hektir will cookie-toast with those who wish to embrace life rather than fear.
"Hektir, that may be the most poetic and also the longest thing I've ever heard you say. Now I know why you're a man of few words." Pems declines the cookie, but raises his spear in salute to Hektir, the budding bard.
"Ah, I see it now. Offer Nadya a cookie not your own, so that she might offer you her own cookie. How gallant, Hektir." Tsin snorts.
"If you're done risking your health with tainted bakery, we need to push on. Don't forget to save a cookie for Nadya's daughter."
"Behold the power of baked goods, the only thing that keeps Hektir from spitting." Quinn tilts his glass of sherry in toast to Hektir's momentary manners. "When you're finished with your feast perhaps we can continue to track down the witchy master of this tower?" Once satisfied that no other liquor is to be found in the cookie pantry, Quinn is ready to proceed through the southern door of the dinning room.
"There is a marked difference between fear and reasonable caution, Hektir. You would do well to distinguish between the two."
Zeno pipes up at this and blinks a few times at Malavarius,
"Bah! Likely not, though if his smell is any indication I'd wager he'd be one that tasted like moss and wet dog fur. Ha! Did you hear that, Zeno? Wet dog fur! That sounds downright dreadful!"
Zeno shakes his head violently, trying to banish the imagined taste from his mouth.
"Now then, let's get back to the task at hand, shall we? I have a very good hat that's gone missing and I'm sure there are some fey somewhere in here who know what's happened to it."
Hektir salutes those who would gobble cookies and embrace life, enjoying the sugary mess immensely. He pockets the other non-dangerous cookies for later consumption.
More for me.
"Let's go, Quinn. We have found what we came for in here," Hektir says with much satisfaction as he follow Quinn to the next door.
Nadya shakes her head at Hektir's antics. "We have no found my daughter. Until we do, I shall keep looking!"
The door to the south of the dining room leads into a hallway that curves around the tower. Two closed doors lead south, plus another door at the far end of the hallway.
Tsin follows the others as the southern arc is investigated. The first door on the right gives her pause, and she opens it, making sure they leave no door unopened. She shoves the broadsword away, keeping the cold iron at the ready. Not sure which is worse- finding the girl's corpse, or not finding her at all.
Taking advantage of Tsin's pause at the door, Quinn bestows his blessing, "Here Tsin, take a little guidance with you, just in case some more fey menaces are lurking about this place."
"You know Hektir, I can purify food before you stuff it in your face, I'd think you'd remember that after the incident with the porridge pot back in Heldren." Quinn gives the tracker a wide berth, his boots already splattered after Tsin's reaction to the plant creature.
A bed, desk, and storage locker furnish this small circular chamber. A five-foot-tall mirror hangs on the wall opposite the room’s only door.
"Wise words you hear, Hektir. It would be wise of you to heed them every so often." Although with Hektir, we'd be lucky to see 2 eggs out of a dozen uncracked.
"Thank you for lift, Quinn, and keep at the tracker. You'll see improvement, I'm sure. I saw my sister greatly improve her slyvan with a traveling tutor."
She waits for one of the others to check the storage locker before moving on.
Tsin quickens her step to the next door down, and opens it, encouraged by Quinn. Should nothing interesting present itself, she moves to the end of the hall, intent on rooting out trouble.
Pems will follow along with Tsin, moving as quietly as he can.
Quinn searches the rooms with the aid of detect magic, being careful of possible traps on the locker.
The locker is locked.
"There must be some goodies in here, maybe more cookies, perhaps Mal's good hat?" Quinn speculates.
At the mention of his good hat, Malavarius suddenly showcases a strong enthusiasm for opening the locker, "Where's our locksmith, hmm? Pemsworth? Pemsworth, lad, where have you gotten to?!"
Pems smiles at Mal's sudden enthusiasm. He moves up and taking his time examines the locker carefully.
Quinn grants the guidance of Cayden to Pems as he works on the lock. "Here drink this, it steadies the hands." Quinn pushes the pilfered bottle of sherry to the short, good witch.
Hektir keeps a look out while others do stuff.
You know what's awesome?
Cookies. Free cookies that are all yours.
Pem's isn't able to get the chest open, the lock defying all his efforts. You think you'll have to find the key to have a chance.
Moving on, you open the next door, and the scent of perfume fills the air, spilling out from a small bedroom where several dresses styled for a Taldan noblewoman lie neatly arranged on the bed. A mirrored vanity and chair sit by the door next to a wooden chest, and a larger mirror hangs on the wall between two windows.
The inhabitant looks up in shock, her eyes widening as you enter. Just as shocking -- It's Lady Argentea!
"Thank Abadar," she exclaims. "Are you here to rescue me?"
"Uumm, yea, yea, that's right, we're rescuing you." Quinn turns and looks at his companions and mouths the word Again? with his back towards the lady. Turning back to the lady, "How did you come to be captured by the witches? Have they treated you well?" Quinn applies a critical eye to the woman he wooed on the trip back to Heldren. Could she be the witch!?!
"They attacked my caravan and dragged me here," she replies. "They haven't hurt me, but they won't let me go! It is unconscionable! I'm a lady of Taldor!"
Pem's isn't able to get the chest open, the lock defying all his efforts. You think you'll have to find the key to have a chance.
Hektir tries the key we found recently.
* * *
The inhabitant looks up in shock, her eyes widening as you enter. Just as shocking -- It's Lady Argentea!
"Don't worry, she meant nothing to me," Hektir whispers to Nadya, trying to head off any confusion or impending feelings of jealousy.
Like Quinn, Hektir harbors a significant amount of doubt for the Lady's story.
Sense Motive
the lady (from Mott's own photostream)
"I see, and you haven't been to Heldren since the attack, not even on the arm of a dashing rescuer that escorted you heroically back to safety?" Quinn strikes a heroic pose. "And tell us, who were you traveling with on your trip from Taldor?"
The second, still standing, carriage bears the marks of Taldan heraldry on its decorative chasings, as well as damage from the many arrows fired in the battle that took place here. A spear has been wedged between the handles of the carriage doors to hold them closed.
The statue appears to be the ice-entomed remains of a Taldan officer. The man’s body is no longer intact, with several pieces of him now lying in blocks of slowly melting ice at his feet. He does still wear his breastplate, emblazoned with Taldan heraldry, and one of the chunks of ice contains the captain’s arm, still grasping his beautiful longsword.
(also see post 690)
(and 764 - As the trip progresses, slowly through the snow, Lady Agentea's somewhat chilly exterior seems to thaw a bit before Quinn's onslaught of charm. By midway through the first day, he has her laughing at his stories and is willing to let the Caydenite help her over some of the more difficult terrain.)
Even as he asks the questions, Quinn gives a meaningful look to Hektir and Tsin and in the action of posing his hand slides to the grip of his rapier.