Seraphiel's past lives remind him of similarly evil devices he has seen before. Swiftly, he explains his findings to his companions. Arianwyn immediately gets the idea.
Whiteclaw braces herself. "I'll hold on to whoever tries to undo that thing."
Arianwyn sighs and says, "Well, Gentleman, if you have no objections to a gnoll holding tight to you... I believe it is your turn."
Dredging up some hitherto overlooked knowledge, Seraphiel cautiously eases the cover of the book far enough open for the rune to be reached. The familiar mist forms at the edges of the trap, but does not attempt to seek out a victim.
"Nasty trick," comments The Gentleman as he lets Whiteclaw grasp him around the waist and slides his fingers over the rune. At his touch, the mist coils questingly around his wrists.
"You were right. It wants me. I'm getting ready to run." He pulls his hands away quickly and gathers himself together to try again.
Arianwyn fumbles and accidentally flips the book cover open for a second. More seeking mist emerges.
"If you could just step aside a moment," requests The Gentleman courteously, swiftly closing off the book again.
Reason waits to assist with the actual rune removal, when he might be useful.
Classical eladrin training serves Arianwyn well as he moves the book to a more advantageous position, carefully balancing the potentially lethal volume on his longsword, so that the rune is slightly exposed.
His tension showing very in his heightened breathing, The Gentleman reaches towards the rune and does something too quick to see with his fingers.
"Got it. I think. Neutralised anyway. I'd like to see it destroyed."
Thievery check to disable the rune ... (1d20+12=25)
Gobi uses his knowledge of battlefield healing to prepare the ground in case things go badly wrong. His actions inspire considerable confidence in his allies.
"Can someone look at this to see if there's any catch before I try to remove the thing?" Vel complains.
Gobi looks and points unerringly at a tricky variation in the scribing of the rune that Vel might otherwise have missed.
"Friend Gobi, you are an invaluable aid."
"Thank you, Gobi. Arianwyn, I think you missed this bit here. . ."
Between them Arianwyn and Vel deftly remove almost all of the dreadful rune. The Gentleman looks on with visible concern as the companions go about their task. The remaining mist surrounding the sigil roils spitefully, hunting desperately now as it is gradually erased.
Arianwyn grins and claps Seraphiel on the shoulder, "Excellent!"
With a final flourish, Seraphiel erases the diabolic rune and the book falls harmlessly to the ground. As the last traces of the rune vanish, you are almost sure you sense a frustrated howl from somewhere beyond the normal reach of hearing and the last remnants of the mist clutching at The Gentleman's limbs evaporates.
As it does so, Whiteclaw releases her grip on the assassin.
Stooping to pick up the book, The Gentleman looks curiously at the cover.
""The Art of Camouflage"? I'd have given a good deal to read this, but I think I'll pass for now. Perhaps you'd be kind enough to return it to the Library for me?"
He holds the volume out to the companions.
As if on cue, Magister Weltmann appears in the doorway.
"Inside all of you. I've worked it out."
He nods crisply at The Gentleman. "Not surprised to see you here. Just the sort of chap my old schoolmate would want to suck dry. You come along too. You may be useful."
The Gentleman's eyebrows rise slightly, but he makes to move towards the Magister.
Arianwyn looks at the book, as if wanting to study it some more, and then with a resigned sigh, follows the Magister.
Reason picks up the book, with every intention of returning it to the library.
Weltmann slams the door behind you all.
"I can get you in. Open a portal. Tricky, but quite possible. Can't get you out. You'll need Pirot to do that for you from the other side. Been doing some research. That rune is a damnable device."
He prods The Gentleman in the chest. "Count yourself very lucky. And get those shurikens out where I can see them."
There is a slight pause as The Gentleman divests himself of an assortment of weaponry. "I really have no intention of harming any of you. I'm very much in your debt. But if it makes you any happier ..."
"It does. All of them." Weltmann doesn't bother to see if his instructions are being obeyed, but lectures on, pulling out a large sheet of paper and drawing rapidly on it.
"The rune traps the victim in the place of his or her worst nightmare. There are two things you need to do. Rescue him, obviously. Then you'll need to convince him that he is trapped and none of the things he is seeing are real. Restore his sanity if you like. The choice of volume seems significant to me. My guess is that Pirot is somewhere in Bael Turath."
Arianwyn looks at Reason with amusement, "Well, I'd be inclined to say then that we should leave you here. He might not take kindly to yet another tiefling. But of course, you have the greatest knowledge of that devil empire."
"Do you need time to prepare?" asks Weltmann.
"I'm ready, 'cept for one thing." Gobi retrieves a note from his pack " I need you to deliver this for me. It's to my pop, Lam Thovir." Gobi hands the note over.
The note reads:
Our adventure is going well, I'm learning a great deal about the world. I think I'd be making you and the other elders proud. Worthy enough to be a real paladin of Moradin maybe. Why just today we faced off against vile creatures inside of a bath house, newts and the like. Well.. When I put it that way I guess it doesn't sound so grand. But I assure you these newts had some kick to them. I only wish I could meet up with you so you could see the progress I've made, You'd probably even know the best way to get newt sludge off of a magical shield. Grand eh? Roswitha seems to think so. I guess I haven't told you or ma about her yet. I've only just met her but she's quite lovely. Before ma asks, I'm not sure which clan she is from or where her ancestry is. I think she was born in this city we're working in. Not a mountain dwarf but still, a pretty one. I better get to taking care of my gear.
May Avandra's luck guide you safely.
Gobi
"I think we should be moving soon. The longer we wait the worse this will all get. And.. if you see Roswitha, tell her we'll see her soon."
"Ready," Vel says.
Urho stowed away, Arianwyn gets a familiar gleam in his eye as he announces, "I stand ready to experience whatever may befall us beyond yon runic device."
Weltmann nods briskly and takes Gobi's letter.
"The note is easy to deliver. I don't know Miss Roswitha, but I'm sure someone will."
The Gentleman raises a hand. "I know her. I'll get your message to her."
"Not until you've helped me with this portal. I need you to maintain the structure. Are you competent enough?"
"My arcane training is basic, but good enough for that." The Gentleman is remarkably compliant and seems to think so himself, for he adds "My gratitude is still very great, but it will wear off eventually."
Weltmann smiles slightly. "Then we'd better take advantage of it now."
He walks to the centre of the room and starts to draw a series of runes on the floor. As the ritual completes, the runes begin to glow and sweat starts on the Magister's brow. "Get in there now. I can't hold this open for long, even with his help."
The portal shimmers around you and you experience a brief, but horrible, lurching sensation as Weltmann's study vanishes and a new world re-forms around you.
As your eyes adjust, you realise that you are in a temple at the climax of a horrific rite.
Reason at least has good cause to recognise the time and place.
Reason only
Human clerics, horribly mutiliated and constantly bleeding attend a bloodstained alter. In front of them, fanatical adherants watch their every move as they slowly bleed their victim to death. The human lying prone and helpless is a younger man than you expected, lithe and active, but clearly nearing unconsciousness.
Arianwyn pauses to assess the situation, dredging facts from his century long existence.
Arianwyn
Much of what you have learned from Reason and the ancient crone Cyan Hamaka now falls into place.
Arcana check - As Magister Weltmann said, this is an illusory world, but you are aware that the wounds dealt will be as real and dangerous as those in the real world. Something about the nature of the place nags at your mind, but you cannot quite place it.
History check - Beyond all doubt, this is the moment of the final ritual that created Bael Turath. The clerics are preparing the last elements of the weeks long horror they have forged. If history is going to repeat itself, both the clerics and their followers will transform into the primal tieflings as the rite is completed. This is where man and devilkind entered into their unholy contract.
Arianwyn warns his companions, "We can be killed here, do not forget that."
Whiteclaw steps forward, her eyes quickly taking in the scene. "I didn't need you to tell me that," she rumbles quietly.
Vel
Arcana check - as Magister Weltmann said, this is an illusory world, but you are aware that the wounds dealt will be as real and dangerous as those in the real world. You realise something else too. You are in a place created by Pirot's mind. Failure to rescue him will cause this sequence to replay indefinitely. He can die many times in this place and you are certain you can too.
Dungeoneering check - the architecture of the temple is alien, but you can see that although it seems archaic to you, it is newly built. Wherever you are, it is unimaginably long ago.
History check - frustrating fragments of information are just out of your reach. You can see enough to realise that this is a moment of huge import which has the potential to change the world.
Nature check - you see that the clerics, although human, have mutilated themselves to the point that they are very nearly something quite different. They have taken on some characteristics of the race that will become tieflings.
Religion check - the altar is the focal point of this rite and judging from the bodies lining the pit in front of it, this is the culmination of a lengthy and diabolic ritual. The celebrants are in a frenzy of bloodlust and will not be diverted from their purpose. The fire burning in the pits is not natural, but infernal. Something about the nature of the altar and the rites nags at your memory.
Reason
Arcana check - as Magister Weltmann said, this is an illusory world, but you are aware that the wounds dealt will be as real and dangerous as those in the real world. More information nags out of reach
History check - you already know where you are. Due to your heritage and your extensive research, you are fully aware that the culmination of this rite will be the creation of the tieflings as the physical embodiment of the man's most horrific bargain with devilkind.
Religion check - the altar is the focal point of this rite and judging from the bodies lining the pit in front of it, this is the culmination of a lengthy and diabolic ritual. The celebrants are in a frenzy of bloodlust and will not be diverted from their purpose. As long as at least one of the celebrants stay adjacent to the altar, the victim lying on it will continue to bleed slowly to death. The fire burning in the pits is not natural, but infernal.
Arianwyn's years spent poring over tomes and arguing with historians, storytellers and lunatics (sometimes all three in one) enables him to know with utter certainty what is transpiring.
"Welcome to the birth of your race..." he says to Reason with a certain grim interest.
"This is the final rite that will complete the pact between devilkind and the humans of Bael Turath."