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Harrow doesn't know why the candle maker is working so hard. He seems to have forgotten that the superstitious townsfolk are doing everything they can to keep the shadows at bay at night. ;-P
He does, however, detect magic beneath the bed! Catalina has lockbox under her bed, though it isn't very well hidden. Small towns and trusting people--go figure! The box is locked.
Stuff shakes around inside. It's very obvious that there are coins inside.
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Harrow looks conflicted.
"Hmmm...Harrow feel a little bit bad we in here without permission. But this candle-maker our biggest suspect. So maybe breaking chest okay to solve mystery? Harrow not know."
Finally, he appears to have selected a proper course of action. "Harrow not think his friends know how to open...Harrow have way to open it, if no one have better idea."
The half-orc bases the lock a few times with his adamantine weapon.
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Harrow frowns at Berosius.
"Harrow agree with fellow half-ling that it not good to break into people's houses. But, Harrow also think all clues leading to this candle-lady, that she not innocent but suspect. Also, candle-lady had lots of people go into her house. When we try to go in, too, giant wax fart thingy attack us. Make me think she have something to hide. So fellow half-ling right that maybe not good to break in. But maybe we open box, and if not see anything that say she bad, we put box back and look for other clues."
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"these are all valid and important questions, my fellow Pathfinders. However, the most excellent Harrow has the right of it, as I see it. We must learn more. We can apologize later."
He considers a moment, feeling a deep anger in the pit of his stomach. The battle with the wax guardian showed Mareq just how vulnerable he is without... him. Mareq can feel the drain on his meager resources. The fire cast forth earlier has literally drained the fire from his blood, leaving him weak and vulnerable. He should, logically, do what needs to be done to protect himself, even if it means summoning the pathetic shade of that most hated and despicable creature, Husarq al-Shamiri.
"My fellow seekers, please proceed without me. I must... attend to something for a brief moment."
He withdraws from the space. In doing so, the others may notice him pulling a water basin from his pack, as well as a small oil lamp, battered and scarred.
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SNAP! Harrow busts it wide open. The lock was in the shape of Hello, Kitty! Now it looks awful.
Inside it looks like there's a summary receipt. Hm. These are the total earnings/savings of the chandlery from ever since Catalina took over the business: 65 gp, 29 sp, and 88 cp.
There's also a candle in here. This seems to be what pinged as magical. Concentrating on the candle:
Round 1: Yep, it's magic
Round 2: Enchantment
Round 3: Faint
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Berosius looks at the candle. His spirits whisper to him: "This is a candle of truth! For one such as this, the sale of such a candle could help to secure a comfortable life."
It occurs to the halfling that the chandler would want to keep her "nest egg" safe--especially given the state of the cluttered shop.
Harrow and Selter notice a door in the floor that looks like it probably leads to a cellar or basement. This must be the chandlery proper--where the candles are actually made and allowed to set. If Catalina isn't out on a delivery run, she might be in the cellar.
But, you also notice that the door in the floor is trapped.
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"My fellow seekers, please proceed without me. I must... attend to something for a brief moment."
He withdraws from the space. In doing so, the others may notice him pulling a water basin from his pack, as well as a small oil lamp, battered and scarred.
He mutters quietly as he walks away, "I must recall the Slayer of Childhood and Killer of Happiness yet again. After so recently sending him away, I must grind my teeth, spit upon the ground and swallow my hatred."
"<ptew!>" he spits upon the ground as he holds the small, brass lamp with one hand. The other the large brass bowl upon the floor and, magically, it is full of swirling water, dark and mysterious.
Perhaps one of his companions, looking back at him, notices the glow in Mareq's eyes of... happiness. Oddly, happiness, glee, dark and oily excitement...
Mareq, smiling, drops the lamp into the bowl, submerging it utterly. It hisses and pops as its heat is negated by the cold, black water. Steam rises and air bubbles escapes from the lamps funnel. More bubbles, and then less. And less. And then... no bubbles are left.
He chants in a strange language as the bubbles lessen. "نکل آئے، سب کو اس کے بارے میں میری نفرت تھی ساتھی، میرے بچپن کے قاتل، ناش کے بہت اچھا اور اچھا ہے. بار بار اور بار پھر آپ کی وفات کی منصوبہ بندی میں ... آخر کار میں خوشی مل سکتی ہے کہ، ایک بار پھر میری خدمت پر واپس جائیں. واپس آ جائیں اور خدمت، امام سمیر، مفلس اور پیتل کے شہر کے سابق بے اوکردوست. میرے والد."
Suddenly the water in the bowl cascades upwards as Mareq's banished efreeti servant explodes into existence from the bowl and lamp. He falls immediately to the floor choking and coughing, spewing water from his mouth, his horns dripping.
"What took you so long, slave?" says Mareq evilly, crouching down to put his cruelly leering face close to the efreeti's.
”Get up up, slave and attend. Fell deeds and dangers await.
”<cough cough> Yes, master. As you command oh powerful and majestic Mareq, Vanquisher of Perfidy,” says Husarq as he drips up on the floor of the chandlery.
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As Husarq stands, Mareq pulls forth two wands, one of salamander horn etched with silver runes, the other a slender steel shaft.
"Come here, dung-face!" he calls to Husarq. When the genie is close, Mareq STABS him in the face with the sharpened salamander horn! The silver runes swirl about the wand and pour into the genie's face, leaving a small silver speck. Mareq grins with almost orgiastic glee at the minor pain he causes his thrall as he stabs him. He then, as an afterthought, touches himself gently with the wand. Weird, otherplanar theurgies suffuse the room, making the hair stand up on the bodies of those nearby.
He appears about to tap Husarq with the second, steel wand. But, appearing to reconsider, he puts the steel wand away.
"No no, not yet. I don't think you need this protection yet, Dung Face," he says, looking upon the hated face of his efreeti slave. "Do not make me regret my merciful preventative, Putrid One." He turns and rejoins his companions near the trapped door.
"We are ready. Let us proceed. Husarq shall take the lead," he says with a weird leer.
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Harrow scowls at the trapdoor.
"This is door that has been trapped!" the half-orc says. "Harrow could go through it, but Harrow very interested in new friend that follow orders. Harrow wonder if Mareck want to send new guy into trapped door to welcome to group. What think new friend about this? Harrow also wonder how he could get someone that does everything he want."
Husarq, bowing low to Mareq, replies, "As you command, oh Glorious One."
He walks forward to the door and opens it.
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Everybody good with their position on the map? Everyone has made at least one comment about the private area of the room, and it hs now been about 16 hours since the last post.
When the eidolon opens the door an arc of electricity slices through the air at Selter, Marek, and Husarq.
All three take 10 points of damage.
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Mareq shudders as the electricity blasts through him. His thoughts are red-rimmed and angry, his mind directing his embarrassment (standing right behind Dung Face? Really?) into anger at Husarq.
"Damn you, Villainous One! Is this anyway to protect your master? You fail over and over and over!"
Mareq pulls forth two new wands from his waistband. One is blood red, as if made from the petrified flesh of an efreet. The other is snow white, with glittering sky blue flecks along its gentle length. He touches himself with the white wand
and the sparkling blue flecks cascade over him once and then twice and rejuvenate his electrocuted body.
"Ahhhh," he exclaims in satisfaction.
He looks at Husarq then, weighing the red wand in his hand. As he is about reach out towards the efreet, Berosius' spirit friends cascade over him and Husarq.
An angry, petulant expression passes quickly over Mareq's face when he sees Husarq's wounds close. But Mareq's face quickly composes itself before anybody (?) sees.
"Ahh, yes, thank you Berosius. That accomplishes the task, I think. I appreciate it very much."
The ifrit turns from Berosius to Husarq and very slowly and obviously, almost in a cruel teasing fashion, puts the red wand away. Mareq's eyes squint ever so slightly (pleasure? hate? cruelty?) as he says to Husarq, "You do not need any further rejuvenation. Let your pain remind you of your failure to protect me, Dog's Rectum!"
Husarq listens to his master's words and looks down at the remaining burnt and cracking wounds from the bolt of electricity. Several of the blackened marks, like slashes across his body, ooze ichor.
"Yes, my Master. I shall remember."
Will he, one can wonder? And what exactly will Husarq al-Shamiri remember, if he does?
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Harrow watches the scene unfold.
[dice=sense motive]1d20+8
"Harrow not sure what all words mean you call new trap-setter-offer guy, but he think you not really like each other."
He shrugs.
"Well, he did set off trapped door, so now we can open," he says as he does just that.
Mareq looks at the half-orc blankly. And then, "Yes, of course. One must learn from past mistakes."
He steps out of the way of the potential lightning blot.
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The door opens. It leads to a cellar. This room is piled high with crates and boxes filled with candles and packing material. Though there was once some semblance of order to this place, it is long gone as spools of twine, pots of dye, and other elements of candle manufacture have been dumped here haphazardly.
Despite the mess in this room, the most notable thing lying on the floor is the lifeless body of Catalina the chandler. Her corpse is splayed out on the ground in a pool of blood, and she has a large gash in her throat.