Roscoe smiles at his new friend after wiping some spittle from his cheek.
"I'm afraid an exorcism is out of the question," says. "I'm the only thing standing between some really bad spirits and the rest of the world. If I do enough good things, it purifies these bad boys. I just have to keep in control. But trust me...I've got it handled."
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Petr raises an eye-brow at Igor's secretions and wondered what language that was. Since Roscoe seemed to understand the man, Peter laughed along heartily with what must have been a great joke.
As for the bad spirits, maybe Roscoe just needed a little help getting them pushed on to a better place. Petr always felt he had a kind side to himself; Always willing to help.
"Punch spirits!" He balled up his fist, squinted to get a better aim, and prepared to punch Roscoe's face.
The Pathfinders decide to visit the Osirian nobleman named Dremdhet Salhar in the Wise Quarter to get permission for the Pathfinder Society to explore the Salhar ancestral vaults below Sothis.
The group make their way to the rich estate of Grand Councilmember Dremdhet Salhar, and are greeted by a guard who is expecting them as they reach the tall, wrought-iron gate. Once the Pathfinders are inside, a servant tells the group Salhar is not present, called away on important Council business, but his most trusted advisor is available to negotiate any business they may require. The servant explains this while leading the group down well-decorated hallways, past expansive rooms.
After a few minutes, the group arrives at a simple study near the end of a long hallway. Inside Amenopheus, a tan-skinned old man sits behind a desk flipping through pages in a large tome. Scraps of paper jut from the book marking over two dozen different places. As the group approaches the open door, the wise sage silently gestures the Pathfinders into the study with one thin hand, while closing the tome with the other after finishing what he was reading. Once they are all inside the study, he addresses the group.
“Good day to you, Pathfinders. I am Amenopheus, the Sapphire Sage, advisor to Master Salhar. I understand you were sent here to discuss archaeological permissions. Knowing this was coming, I spoke with Master Salhar at length on the subject and have this to say.
"Since Osirion was reopened to exploration a decade ago, adventurers, historians, and treasure-seekers flock to my country by the hundreds, perhaps thousands. While most families with ancestral burial vaults maintain guards and keep their sites out of the hands of casual thieves, not all families have the wealth or power to restrict everyone, and as we all know, not every defense is perfectly secure. Unscrupulous tomb robbers and maligned merchant organizations cause Osirion to bleed relics into the Inner Sea—something the descendents of Ancient Osirion cannot afford. We Osiriani have thousands of years of rich history coursing through our veins, and while that power has been out of focus in recent years, we are content to wait, knowing our enemies will wear themselves down. As they fall into arrogance, folly, or greed, we wait for our return to power, knowing we bear the riches of our ancestors at our feet.
“Master Salhar remains impressed by the Pathfinder Society, orating in their favor a handful of times in front of Absalom’s Grand Council, in fact. Due to previous relationships between him and the Society, Master Salhar has agreed to grant permission to the Pathfinder Society to explore his family’s vaults below Sothis. The only thing he requires is that you retrieve the map of the vaults from his own vault here. The servant will lead you to the basement and show you the room.”
After leaving Amenopheus’ study, the servant brings the group back through the spacious estate, leading them down sturdy stone steps into the cool basement. Down a hallway, after a couple turns, the party ends up at a plain wooden door. The servant opens the door, gesturing to the room with a bow, and waits silently for the Pathfinders to enter. When questioned, he doesn’t know anything beyond that he is supposed to escort the group to this room and lock the door behind them.
A plain stone room contains three chests: a copper-banded chest of smooth, dark wood; a red lacquered chest; and what looks to be a cube of solid steel. Behind the chests sits a low table holding a clear glass jar half full of liquid and a covered wicker basket.
"What is it with all the punching?" Roscoe says to Petr, having narrowly avoided being punched in the face by the barbarian not thirty minutes before.
The halfling takes a minute to look around the room.
"It is a puzzle, it seems. Are we missing anything?"
Scraps steps forward and downs the liquid contents of the glass jar.
*GLUG, GLUG, GLUG, GLUG, GLUG*
Scraps drowns the glass jar of its liquid contents, leaving a jeweled bras key in the bottom of the jar. However, after a few seconds scraps feels a burning coming from with in.
Petr goes to open the copper bond chest and ...
finds the chest to be an illusion.
As Roscoe thoroughly examines the room he finds an inscription on the door.
“Within these cases lies your quest and your way out.”
Turning his attention away from the door and towards the basket he realizes there might be some truth to Kwannon's warning.
Roscoe can't help but notice the others have taken a very hands-on approach to finding a way out.
He looks carefully at the basket, taking a more cerebral approach.
"There is a solution to this...I can sense it."
Scraps realizing that there is something drastically wrong with the liquid he consumed immediately relieves himself on the copper banded chest. This is good news for Scraps who escape further damage from the acid, but bad news fro Petr who gets splashed from the Humunculus's discharge.
After "interacting" with the chest Scraps because aware of the chests true nature.
As Roscoe approaches the basket he takes note that 2-foot-round wicker basket requires no key to open, its lid resting gently a top its wide rim. He also notices the basket occasionally shifts every so slightly and can hear something moving inside. But the halflings suspicions are absolutely confirmed when he hears the hiss of what can only be a snake.
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Scraps realizing that there is something drastically wrong with the liquid he consumed immediately relieves himself on the copper banded chest. This is good news for Scraps who escape further damage from the acid, but bad news fro Petr who gets splashed from the Humunculus's discharge.
After "interacting" with the chest Scraps because aware of the chests true nature.
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The burning wetness startles Petr! He looks over and sees Scraps and is amazed at the construct's generosity! Here Petr had been thinking Scraps had taken the whole drink to himself and now he was sharing! Petr took a lick at it on his arm and decided he would no longer be kicking the dog.
"Dog Good," Peter says as he pats the not-animal gruffly on the head.
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Petr smiled at Scraps, recognizing the same way his mother had showed him love as a youth.
Snakes! Now that was something Petr knew how to handle. He walked towards the basket ready for action. He unsheathed his mighty axe and prepared to fix the snake problem once and for all.
"Snake Fix," he snarled as he took a firm grip on his weapon ready to sunder basket and reptile.
Roscoe looks at the basket skeptically.
"Hey, big guy," he says to Petr. "I'll knock this over with my longspear...you kill anything that's inside. Deal?"
Once the half-orc is in position, he knocks it over.
Roscoe knocks the basket over at a safe distance with his spear.
As the basket hits the floor a key scatters across the floor, followed by wadded cloth. Petr eagerly waiting to strike the snake watches closely before spotting the viper among the cloths and slashes out with his glaive to only find the snake to be far quicker than expected.
In return the viper lashes out at Petr, sinking its teeth into the leather of the half-orcs boots.
Roscoe's eyes roll back in his head as the snake hisses in front of him.
The halfling, low in a crouch, leaps forward with uncanny speed and skewers the snake.
"...KNIFE TO THE HEART..."
After a moment, the halfling looks normal, and he stares, wide-eyed, at the snake on the tip of his spear.
"So...was there a key in there?"
With the snake now in uncountable bits, Roscoe quickly tracks down the key from the basket and finds it to made of a blue stone with strange runes engraved upon it.
Igor finds the next chest to be a smooth, red lacquered chest that looks devious. The solid metal plate surrounding the gaping keyhole pulses with glowing amber runes. He finds the chest to be thoroughly locked.
Roscoe takes the key from the basket after killing the snake.
He looks up at Petr. "I'm scary? No, I'm not. But what I guard is very scary...very scary indeed."
He smiles and moves to the chests. He tries the blue key from the basket on the red chest and then on the steel chest, if it didn't work.
Roscoe inserts the blue stone key into the red lacquered chest and turns the key and opens the chest with ease. The red lacquered chest holds a key forged into the end of a jeweled scepter.
You hear a slight mechanical click form above your head. As you look up you see a small,golden key hangs from a slit in the ceiling about 6 inches down from the 15-foot high ceiling.
"Can you reach it?" Roscoe asks.
While Petr and Roscoe do their best impression of circus acrobats, Scraps
fly's above their heads and snatches the key.
The pathfinders immediately use it on the steel chest and find it contains a map of the Salhar burial vaults beneath Sothis and a wand of knock (CL 3rd, 11 charges).
They than exit the chamber by using the scepter key on the door and find the servant waiting on the other side and tells them they can keep the map and wand, but asks them to give back any keys they may have.
With an agreement reached, the Pathfinders travel through the streets toward their last destination
They arrive at the estate of the Paracountess, a magnificent gothic structure three stories tall. They are greeted at the ebon lacquered double front doors, wrought with gleaming silver fixtures, by a well-built male servant dressed in tight pants and a half buttoned shirt. He leads them through the well-appointed sitting rooms, ballrooms, and a grand stairway of the estate without saying a word and ignoring all questions. All the way up on the third floor of the house he opens the door of Zarta’s personal study.
A large intricate carpet dominates the marble floor in this room. A chaise sits along the north wall and a desk spans the southeast corner, its chair positioned with its back to the southwest corner of the room. Three comfortable chairs are positioned around a small, low circular table. Sitting in the chair behind the desk, Paracountess Zarta Dralneen regards the Pathfinders with a wry smile, putting away a few papers before addressing them.
"Aldor, you are dismissed. Close the door behind you and attend to your other tasks."
She then turns her attention to the group. "It’s always so incredibly adorable when I see a fresh-faced batch of Pathfinders. I mean, look at you scrumptious little teacakes. I could eat each and every one of you up!" She stops and gives Kame a critical look, "Well, maybe not you"
She continues, "I assume this isn’t a pleasure visit since most of you are terribly overdressed for that manner of occasion, so that must mean you are here for that trinket Valsin has been nagging me about. Seems I can’t get that man around these parts anymore," she gestures, sliding her hand down her body and widening the gesture to sweep out and across the room as if her home were a secondary thought.
"On the good side, he always sends me all the precious new recruits."
As the paracountess talks, a cacophony of booms and crashes sounds from beyond the room’s west door. She sometimes pauses at an extended eruption of these noises before continuing with the conversation.
“Many think we in Cheliax serve and worship devils, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, we use the creatures for their power. They serve us and we sculpt their power in our own interests. The world must come to terms with the order of things. People need to know their place and operate accordingly. It is the only way to make order from this world. Too many people stretch too far beyond their station, making waves and eroding the true order.”
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They arrive at the estate of the Paracountess, a magnificent gothic structure three stories tall. They are greeted at the ebon lacquered double front doors, wrought with gleaming silver fixtures, by a well-built male servant-
Igor takes a dim view of Aldor, the lethario-like servant.
She then turns her attention to the group. "It’s always so incredibly adorable when I see a fresh-faced batch of Pathfinders. I mean, look at you scrumptious little teacakes. I could eat each and every one of you up!" She stops and gives Kame a critical look, "Well, maybe not you."
"I could fix that." Igor says . "A nip or tuck here and there."
Roscoe looks slightly uncomfortable in the presence of the paracountess.
"So...it sounds like one of these servants is misbehaving?" he asks as they look toward the room.
"What do you need us to do?"
"You are hear to retrieve Valcin's trinket and if that is all you want to do and be on your way so be it. It's in there. One of my servant is greatly misbehaving, so you’re going to have to deal with it in order to get the trinket. You might find this useful."
She holds out a small silver letter-open, a look of boredom spreading across her face.
"Wait!" Roscoe yells to Petr. "Why don't I open the door, and then you break whatever is on the other side?!"
The halfling rushes to the door, turns the handle, and pushes it open.
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Roscoe was only saying what Petr had planned all along. He nodded his head in agreement, though it surely looked like he was gritting his fangs.
He held his giant axe in two great orcan paws and prepared himself for whatever came out of that room.
"You smart," he pauses to think and then remembers, "And Scary."
Roscoe swings the door open and Petr steps forward.
Zarta’s bedroom is decorated in the colors of Cheliax—ebon black and crimson red. Silk, rare woods, and carefully carved marble compose every bit of furniture in the room. Goose down now litters the room, covering
almost every surface and the silken shreds of the cushions that contained it lie about like flayed skin . A post on the massive screened bed is snapped in half, collapsed on the bed and drawing the screened curtains into a ripped slope of formerly fine cloth. Vials of perfume and crystal jars of other cosmetics sit smashed on the marble floor around the dresser. A prominent fixture in the room, a large “X” made of stout wood sits along the west wall, complete with leather shackles and chains.
Fiendish wings and a whipping scorpion-like tail lash behind a diminutive, red-skinned nuisance of a creature, which desperately tries to get into some kind of box.
It seems to be ignoring everything but the box.
Petr runs straight for the imp, with his great axe raise he takes a mighty swing and misses. the momentum of the strike carrying him forward past the imp.
The imp completely ignores Petr and the group as it throws the box against the wall and quickly recovers to once more attempt to pry the it open.