"Morin's Book of Vitalities: Being a Tome Concerned with the Workings of the Body, Krupt reads off the cover of a book he carries in from the other room. "This appears to be the volume getting predominant use here. I'll have to peruse it and see what our villain gleaned from it. Alas, no notes or jounals, so we'll have to hope he was a margin-scribbler. The lab is in excellent shape. A few replacement pieces of glassware should find it fully functional."
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Songan's vision settles on a particular spot in the wall where a few of the stones look to be strangely disheveled, as if they'd been disturbed from their normal resting place in the past.
Approaching the wall, he reaches out for the stone, getting as firm a grip on one as he can before giving it a gentle tug, testing it to see if it is as loose in the wall as it looks to be.
Leralt puts the items he was able to find out about to the side. Pointing at each as he explained.
"I will use the headband now. It will help me study the other items. Hopefully I can figure the rest of them out without extended study."
Placing it on he starts studying them again after recasting his detection spell.
A green glass jar of smelly ointment
A wooden box about the size of a shoebox, with several nautical themed carvings on it
A mortar and pestle, masterfully made and covered in arcane symbols
A small bundle made of fur and tied with some sort of gut that rattles when it lands
1. Restorative Ointment
2. Folding Boat
3. Animated mortar and pestle (adds +5 competence bonus to alchemy checks)
4. You don't know what it is called, but it allows you to cast animal messenger 3/day and alter self 1/day. It also radiates a sanctuary effect continuously.
As Songan begins to pull stones from the wall, the stone wall of the cave beneath is revealed. From the small section you can see, cave paintings depict some sort of battle scene, with small humanoid figures fighting versus humanish figures with animal features who are all dancing around the feet of a gigantic creature with the body of a humanoid insect, with many serpentine heads and three rat-like tails. There maybe more to the painting, but the other stones are actually cemented together in place.
Leralt explains the last of the items.
Lena smirks at the squabbling between Leralt and Gellius
Men can be such meatheads sometimes, it seems race and border does little to dissuade this
As Surrek pours out his hoard, Lena lets out a long whistle.
She waits patiently while the items are sorted and catalogued.
"I can make use of that sword and the pentacle stone should no-one else feel it would suit them best"
"I don't see how those coins are going to be of any use now though" she adds, with an almost wistful edge to her voice
"Noble metals have a wide variety of uses. They could always be melted down or powdered, should any magical or alchemical processes have need of them. Or perhaps they could be returned to the little weasel in exchange for further cooperation."
Surrek whimpers as his spoils are divided. "Not all of that was stolen by Surrek, you know! Some of it is legitimate spoils of exploration. Not fair Big Feet take Surrek's treasures and leave Surrek with nothing. Not fair notfairnotfairnotfair!" The little weasel stomps his feet angrily, all four of them.
At the little weasel's words Leralt gives him a look.
"Oh really do tell where you found minted coins and magical items that did not belong to the colonist. I would be very interested in that information. If its true then you may get back what is yours. If it is truely yours."
If their were ruins predating the colony then that would be a good place to study indeed.
The little weasel stares the wizard hard it the eye. "Oh, Big Feets not know about tombs? Big Feet not know they in one now, eh? Big Feets not know a lot. Maybe Big Feets need Surrek information, eh? Maybe Big Feets need Surrek information so much Big Feets should treat Ambassador with respect, hm?" The weasel pops onto his hindquarters, settles back and crosses his forepaws, nodding sagely.
Issuing a little "oh!" of surprise as her captive pops out of her grasp without any seeming effort, Catila's eyes widen as the horde is poured out, amazed and surprised despite herself. Watching curiously as the horde is identified, she frowns more and more and the not-very-diplomatic wizard begins to antagonize the capable mini-thief.
Placing a hand on Leralt's arm and saying to him "Thank you Leralt, your talents in identifying the items has been most helpful! Perhaps if you were to begin your study of the book now we might gain some valued insight into the evil mayor's means and motives?"
Then with a smile she squats down, with her own small staure bringing her very close to eye level wihh the upright weasel "Peace Ambassador Surrek. And please accept our apologies for doubting your honour. You have more than proven yourself to be a worthy Ambassador to we Big Feets. As your first reward, I declare you shall have the First Pick of our Celebration Feast of Survival tonight! Have you ever tasted Big Feets food before? If you have not, I must warn you, for it may just be so delicious to you, that you will never be able to go back to eating just the food you have been used to in your life thus far." And she pokes his little stomach playfully as she says this
"And yes, I agree with you that we should not just take items that are legitimately yours. If you can identify to us all the items you did not, um, borrow, for any of we big feets, than we shall return them to you, and barter fairly with you for them. You may take back any items you found on your on explorations now if you wish. I would also be very interested to hear more of these tombs, and where you found all these other items."
And as she finishes, she again watches the Surrek closely to see if is being completely honest in his selection or not.
Sense Motive:
Leralt raises an eyebrow.
"Well I have a bit of work to do."
He keeps an ear out and an eye on the weasel regardless. While opening the tome.
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Songan seems mostly ignorant of everything going on with Surrek behind him, trusting that the others can handle everything going on with their new friend; sure, he keeps an ear on them to see what's happening, but they aren't his primary concern. He does, however, request that they leave him something new and shiny, provided Surrek doesn't mind parting with it.
He takes a step back from the fresco, slowly taking it in, gazing from place to place, trying to recall if he's heard anything or knows any stories about the strange chimera-like entity towering over the scene of a battle between tiny figures and humanoids with strangely animalian features.
After studying the art for a few minutes, he calls to the others, never averting his gaze."Everyone. Come look at this. I'd like to see what you all make of it. Our newly-appointed Ambassador, too."
While Songan unsuccessfully wracks his brain for tales of such a strange being, the weasel begins to divide the pile under Leralt and Catila's watchful eyes.
Regretfully, he identifies the coins, jars, headband, wand, prism, ioun stone, vials, statue, mortal and pestle and hammer as stolen from the colonists. The gems, chips of onyx and glass and shortsword he identifies as treasure from tombs. The bundle of fur he jealously holds close to himself. "Mine. This is Surrek's. No trade. Mine."
Finally he sighs. "Surrek open to trades for these," he says, pointing to the sword and gems.
Once called over to the painting, Surrek chirps in an odd tone, his ears folded back flat against his skull. "Surrek see painting like this in tombs. Many many fighting the big thing. Old tombs, old painting. People know nothing of big thing. But big thing very bad, Surrek sure. Very bad."
Leralt keeps reading the tome. But speaks none the less.
"That item of yours, I would like to know who made it. The abilities of that item were made to deal with "Big Feet" are they not."
Someone was helping the weasel and knew full well what he had been doing but their were other posibilities. An item that would allow him to take humanoid form, send messages, and kept him safe from common threats. It was built for a thief or at least someone who dealt with humanoids while not trusting them, that was a gray area worth looking into.
Surrek stares hard at Leralt. "Maybe it is. Maybe Surrek is the advance guard in plot to take down Big Feet. Maybe the People think long and hard about Big Feet and realize more is always coming. Maybe the People think Big Feet respond better to their own kind. Maybe Surrek is sent to keep eye on Big Feet since Surrek is veryvery stealthy. Maybe. Maybe Surrek is mighty wizard who only looks like weasel. Maybe Surrek is god in form of weasel. Maybe Surrek is delusion and you no see Surrek at all. Too many questions, Big Feet."
Krupt rolls his eyes. "Wonderful, the weasel is waxing philosophical. I almost hope you are a fever dream, so long as your presents stay solid."
"I am interested in the mortar and pestle. A most useful tool in the lab. That ointment might actually counteract the disease, though it would not prevent reinfection, and is certainly not enough for our entire company, let alone the colony. I wonder if the magic boat is seaworthy," ponders the doctor in a wistful tone.
Leralt ignores most of what is said back at him.
"How would the People respond to one of us sneaking among them taking what is theirs. Posessing magical items to fool them and sending back reports to our own people. I doubt they would take kindly to that, we have kept our word and done as asked. We seek no conflict yet have been the target of such without cause. We have yet to show that we can not be trusted. You have taken that which does not belong to you, you have kept secrets from us for your own advantage that involve us. Now you play the victim to deflect questions. If you have nothing to hide and our not our enemy why not answer. After all we are the ones who have been attacked nearly with out end for no reason other then existing. What trust is gained thru deception, none and I am sure you are aware of that."
Leralt had been in Absalom long enough to know a con man when he met one. The weasel was just trying to gain an advantage, he had lost his prizes and was bitter about it. He wanted to come out with something to make him feel superior, Leralt could care less. This was not a game and to much was at stake.
"Oh and I would venture a guess that "big thing" in the paintings are whats sealed in this land."
He picks up the statue.
"These are dangerous, if you had kept it for too long without knowing what it was. You would have met a daemon or those trying to free them. If you have any more questions as to the new dangers to this land that you dont know of feel free to ask. I dont hide things that concern other people's lives."
He goes back to the tome. He almost wished the weasel had kept the statue, the deamon would have played on the little animals greed and won with little effort. Upon its release it would quickly devoured the weasel's soul.
Surrek looks slightly embarrassed. "Technically, People didn't ask Surrek to steal. Surrek just like shinies. And Big Feet weren't using them!" Surrek does look slightly chastened. "People not know if Big Feet good or Big Feet bad. Pale Guardians say Big Feet a danger to land. Pale Guardians not lie before, why People doubt them now? Last Big Feet came, killed People, ate them! Terrible, terrible! So People decide to be careful this time, send Surrek to watch Big Feet, see what Big Feet do when People not around. Maybe Big Feet lie to Tarquin. Tarquin slow, not good judge of character. Surrek good judge of character! Surrek give report to People about Big Feet, bring them Big Feet things, tell of Big Feet with evil statue spirit. Surrek not harm Big Feet, not hurt Big Feet, though Surrek could!" Suddenly the little Weasel slinks down on four paws and growls, baring his needle sharp teeth. "Surrek bite there and there! Kill Big Feet where Big Feet weak! Surrek sneaky, kill when Big Feet sleep! Surrek mighty!" He punctuates his threats by pointing at the throat and inner thigh of Leralt. Then he suddenly sits back on his haunches, calm and collected. "Surrek not harm, not kill. Just watch, listen and yes, steal. Surrek good thief. Then lady see Surrek and Surrek let lady catch him. Surrek think Big Feet maybe different from first Big Feet who come to Secret Place, kill and eat People. Maybe these Big Feet better Big Feet. Surrek decide to talk to Big Feet. If not work, Surrek just escape." With a burst of speed outweighing what weasels are normally capable of, Surrek dives into a crack at the bottom of the wall, then abruptly pops his head back out. "Or maybe Surrek make might magics?" Surrek juts one small paw out toward Leralt, his claws twitching. Suddenly Leralt is outline in pale purple flames that seem to shiver and dance all over his body, but do not give off heat and do not harm him.
"Surrek mighty wizard!"
Casting a minor spell he ends with pointing a finger at the weasel. Whispering.
"You see that I can respect, honesty is never a bad trait if sometimes unwise. This is not one of those times, oh yeah I am a wizard too but I would not consider myself mighty."
Speaking outloud once more.
"Well I think if our friend is willing those ruins should be looked over. I doubt our former mayor went thru the trouble of hiding them for nothing. I will also need some time to go thru this tome."
He holds up the book.
"Afterwards I could have something to offer on our daemonic disease."
Krupt nods his approval of Surrek's mode of offense. "He does know his points of attack well. Carotid and femoral arteries, both efficient and fatal with the right weapon and angle of attack. Fascinating."
He turns to Leralt with a sigh. "We should probably collaborate on research. This tome likewise has seen frequent use by our disease progenitor. We may well need information from both sources to effectively counteract the sickness."
Leralt thinks a moment.
"I guess instead of a wall a suitably thick door. As we have limited access to metal, stone would serve. Lockable from both sides as well, dont need anyone setting off one of my traps unless it is someone worthy of it."
He looks over at Surrek.
"I suggest you respect our privacy from now on. If I have any say in our rebuilding efforts we wont be as open to thieves and kidnappings as we have been so far. No offense intended but not all intruders are as considerate of life as you are."
Surrek shrugs, as much as a weasel can, and says off-handedly, while pointing at the far, untouched wall. "Surrek understand, but wizard might want to seal off secret passage over there." He seems to be pointing toward a perfectly ordinary wall, at one of the stones on it that seems just like all the others.
Leralt gives the weasel a look.
"You enjoyed that didn't you."
He cast detect magic before looking the wall over and tapping it for any sort of trigger.
Leralt doesn't detect any magic, but sure enough, when he starts tapping stones, he finds one with a slightly different tone. He presses on it, to no avail, then pulls on it. It pulls out slightly with a click, and a narrow section of the wall swings inward to reveal a short passage that ends in stone stairs leading downward.
The calm half-orc has been simply watching the strange interaction between the talking weasel and his allies, but he rouses himself to action quickly when the hidden passageway is revealed. He draws his axe and shield, and tightens his grip on them. "What is down there?"
"Well if someone sneaky or capable of taking some good hits would mind leading the way. I would be more then happy to find an answer."
Leralt hoped that the former mayor's habit of using deception and secrets as defenses kept up.
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Songan seems zoned out for most of the conversation between the others, so focused is he on the cave painting. When finally he does snap out of it, it is the ambassador's spellcasting that gets his attention. He first seems shocked at seeing the weasel using arcane magics, but then he chuckles, kneeling beside Surrek to offer a light scratch behind his ears, hoping that he doesn't offend their companion; he doesn't intend to.
"Well now! I for one am enormously impressed by this talent, Ambassador. Where we come from, across the water, there are no creatures like you who can speak Common or cast spells. I am glad to have you for our ambassador, Surrek. It is also my hope that we prove to you and the People that we are not like the Big Feet who came before us...although we cannot guarantee that the other colonists who came with us are as honorable as we are. That is one of the downsides of we Big Feet, I am afraid. We are all equally capable of acts of great good and great evil...it is clear that the previous colonists, or at the very least the mayor of them, intended harm here. I hope, with your help and the help of the People, we are able to fix that wrong."
"Regarding the cave painting, I get the same feeling you get. Nothing good will come of it." he adds, glancing back to the artwork with a slight chill.
When Surrek points out the hidden panel in the wall, Songan looks over to it quizzically, waiting for Leralt to examine the stone that was gestured to. He sighs, shaking his head when the opening in the wall reveals a downward staircase. He looks down to Surrek, offering him a half-smile."You are a fountain of secret knowledge, aren't you my friend? I am happy that you seem to be on our side. I don't suppose you'd be able to tell us if there are any harmful traps laid for trespassers down those stairs, would you?"
Surrek twitches. "Surrek never go down there. Smells unnatural. Not even shiny worth braving that. Big Foot who find secret place go down there. Come back all mad and unhappy. Also, sweating. Stink of fear." Surrek shivers slightly. "Surrek stay up here."
Mevahk peers down into the darkness, but he can see nothing from the top of the stairs. He does smell an old, old smell of death from down there.
"Well if it made our evil mayor mad it may be a weakness or something that goes against his goals. May be worth looking into. Not that I am going to be the first in."
Mevakh gladly steps forward into the first step. Abadar's blessings shield him from fear. "I will lead the way. Who shall join me?" His bravery emanates from him, bolstering their own spirits. Fears do not wholly subside, but are pushed aside when he steps down the stairs. His vision pierces the darkness, one of the benefits of his unsavory heritage.
Down the dark stairs goes Mevakh, his faith shielding him from fear. He steps down the stairs, thirteen in all, to the bottom, where a claustrophobic hallway ends in a stone door. The door is closed, but it has no lock. From behind the door, a tuneless whistle comes, faint but discernible. It's a bored, frustrated sound, the sound of someone who has waited for a very long time.
The stone door is 6 feet high and 3 feet wide. It appears to push open inward.
Leralt will follow a bit behind Mevakh, allowing anyone else that comes along to be in front of him as well.
Lena follows Mevakh and Leralt down the dark stairs, channelling a small orison to light the way.
Sensing Leralt's hesitation, Lena steps before him with crossbow drawn, getting a clear view over Mevakh's armoured shoulders as they descend the steps.
At the bottom, Lena keeps her crossbow aimed at the door but scans the room briefly, looking for anything out of the ordinary
Perception
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Songan nods to Surrek, understanding why the weasel was nervous about going down the stairs if he had already seen the previous mayor descend the stairs and return looking more than a little perturbed.
When Mevakh takes a willing and eager step forward, apparently feeling no fear about it whatsoever, Songan gives a quiet sigh. "Very well. Wait for us, Surrek, if you please." he advises their new ambassador, falling in behind Lena as he descends the stairs.
At the bottom of the stairs, the sound of the whistling somehow unnerves Songan, sending chills down his spine. He wonders what could possibly be in that room that would be making such a sound. If it was a sentient creature it would sound positively bored.
Her frustration growing as Leralt's hamhanded attempts at diplomacy continue, despite her efforts to steer him away from such, and the possibility of having a solid ally continues to wane, Catila has all she can do not to punch the mage in frustration.
However the Surrek seems able to handle his own, and in some ways gets the best of the copper tonged wizard, much to Catila's secret delight. Several surprises are revealed, but the most significant and immediate seems to be the secret tomb revealed.
Rarely prone to fear herself and excited at the prospect of discovery, Catila eagerly joins the others down the stairs, just behind Songan. As she descends, she begins humming a familiar tune, heightening the perceptions and reactions of her teammates. Readying her sling, she peers ahead, all her senses alert for danger or anything of interest.
Perception:
The doctor watches the eager gnome head for the stairs, stepping aside to allow her room. "By all means, after you, my dear." He pulls his thin blade from its holster on his apron, preparing to follow the rest.
As an afterthought, he digs through his pockets, producing the brightest, cleanest silver piece in his possession and leaning down toward Surrek.
"A gift in good faith, furfoot," he says, handing the coin to the weasel. [b]"Find more of those wonderful trinkets--from the old places on the isle, not among the current crop of Big Feet, mind you--and I'll see to it you'll eventually have enough shinies to dig a burrow in, if you choose," he says, emphasizing his words by hefting the mortar and pestle before carefully packing them away and pulling a torch and his tinderbox out.
At that, he turns and lightly descends the stairs after the others striking flint on steel to get the torch going.
Mevakh leads the way without hesitation, pushing the door open with a grunt. The whistling does not scare him, as he has the blessings of his Master to protect him, and he will protect those who accompany him using these blessings. He steps through the threshold of the door, his shield half-raised and axe at his side. He is ready to defend himself, but will not strike the first blow against whatever rests unquietly down here.
Mevakh gallantly leads the way, pushing the door open. It opens reluctantly, squealing as it does. The whistling stops, just as the room opens to reveal a room 15 feet wide by about 40 feet deep. The walls are lined with niches cut into the stone, in which a skull and a bundle of bones sits. Some of the skulls are quite small, while others are human size and larger. Runic letters are cut above each niche, but it's too dark to read at the moment. At the far end of the room is a sarcophagus made of volcanic glass, which sits lengthwise against the far wall. In the wall above the coffin are two globes of glass which burn with a faint blue glow, illuminating the creature in front of the sarcophagus.
It appears to be an angel, sitting huddled in the center of the floor, its wings rotting and mangy, its sunken gaunt face staring with eyes aflame with hate as the door opens.
"Back again after so long, Japheel? Come back to torment me further? Have some new torture to try out? Do your worst, fiend, you know I will never help you. I may be dead, but I defy you even now."
With a last look of hatred, the angel stares back at the floor, taking up its tuneless whistling. In the light of the torches and the arcane flames you can see a shimmering metal circle has been placed in the floor, inside of which the rotting angel is imprisoned.
Leralt has no problem seeing at all, not needing light. At the form he cast some spells while searching his memories. Looking around but still staying behind the half orc.
"We are not with Japheel, whom I assume is the name of the former mayor, if anything I guess you could say we are both his enemy and victims. Who may you be?"
Cast Detect Magic
Spellcraft (for anything new, not encountered before)
Knowledge (Arcana) (for anything new, not encountered before)
Knowledge (Planes) (for the angel)
"Not Japheel, hm? More lies? Play upon my hopes of rescue, Japheel? No matter. I have no hope. You should know that by now, Japheel. Try again, this charade isn't working."
Leralt gives the angel a look.
"I assure you I am being truthful. As for whatever information the one you call Japheel was interested in. I doubt it would interest us, unless it helps us stop him. But any information concerning the disease he created and how to cure it would be very helpful to us. Also I was not aware angels could become undead, if I am mistaken do correct me."
This angel, assuming he was not twisted, could be a strong ally. But he was not about to free him much less fight him if he was not. His kind were strong normally, add an undead state and he could be more then they could handle by far. Which also told him that this Japheel was powerful indeed.
Not entirely trusting her eyes, Lena circles around the angel slightly, keeping her crossbow aimed at it, if the thing makes any sudden moves. She stares intently at the apparently bound outsider, her stern gaze attempting to work the angel out while the others question it.
Sense motive
Knowledge: Planes
However, it does seem to be a movanic deva. It has the characteristics, the power that you can see in its eyes and radiates a palpable sense of goodness, even if it is bound.
"You assure me? As if a lie would say anything else! Swear by something no evil thing could swear by. Or else leave me along, foul beast; I have nothing to tell you."
Leralt ruffles his robe as his shoulders move a bit under it, showing his annoyance.
"Well if you cant clearly tell we are not involved with this Japheel person with simple reasoning. Then I swear by Nethys that I am no friend or ally of his. That is very truthful as I have never met such a person that I am aware of. I would suggest you do not insult my god as that is something I will not forgive."
His last sentance brought a very deadly look into his eyes that was rarely if ever seen.
"If my word is not enough for you then nothing can be done. You may remain here."
Leralt would not release something that powerful. It could kill them all with little effort. If it could not be trusted or reasoned with then it would remain sealed.
"Leralt, this is a Movanic Deva, an agent of good. If this Japheel was torturing it, we can probably safely guess that our former mayor was evil. This being could provide us with a wealth of information about this island"
Lowering her crossbow, Lena turns to address the Deva
"Please excuse my friend's hasty words. Recent events have frayed all our nerves. I assure you we are not with Japheel, and we are not here to torture you"
Diplomacy
The angel laughs, a mirthless sound. "Exactly what I'd expect a creature of Japheel's to say. Try again. And as for Nethys, evil could invoke His name as simply as good. It proves nothing."