”Captain Habernathy.” Nyugusk nods, deciding to get right to the point. ”Nyugusk Newblossom. I’ve brought money to cover their fines.
"I’d like to discuss the matter of the lantern as well. I trust you have it in your possession? It was stolen by Bengeirr’s men from Skelg the Ripper, a fellow Pathfinder and a member of the Longaxes. It was used to cast a curse upon Skelg, a curse that he’s dying of.
"The best lead we have to reverse his curse is to recover the lantern, and soon. I’d like to discuss what I can do to help get it back to it’s rightful owner promptly, and save a life in the process.”
"Well son, considering that everything we've got verifies your story, and the fact that it would eventually go back to Skelg anyway, I'd be willing to....expedite....things for a further fee," the captain replies. "Their fines are....3,824 GP," he says reading from one of the papers on his desk. "What've you got?"
Nyugusk pulls out the small chest, placing it before the captain and stacking the platinum coins on the desk.
"Thank you," he smiles. "Your assistance in expediting matters is most appreciated. I trust that this will be sufficient to speed the process along?"
The captain takes in the amount with a brief and barely noticeable widening of his eyes. "Certainly. If you return to the lobby and wait for a moment I will have the other Agents and lantern released into your custody."
One of the guards is sent to the holding cell and a few minutes later the four pathfinders are escorted out the lobby and returned their belongings. They see Nyugusk waiting for them there with Bengeirr's lantern artifact in his hands.
Remaining quiet and withdrawn during their incarceration, Cladissa did little but sit and stare at her lap. A glimmer of hope that the Pathfinders might pay their fines and let them out -- more because of the importance of Skelg than their value -- occurred to her. She had just about crushed that hope in her mind when the guard came and retrieved her and her companions. Still, her embarrassment put a damper on her elation at being released.
She blinked at the well-dressed... orc? holding the lantern in the lobby. Um. Hello? she starts tentatively, a bit unsure of who or what this person was. The bestial face was in stark contrast to his fine clothing. Rather than say anything further, she chooses to let the others do the talking.
As Argor is lead from his cell, he is most clearly leaning on his staff for support. He checks to make sure none of his other items have been tampered with carefully once they are returned to him.
When he finally is face to face with their benefactor, Argor eyes him wearily, and notes with a pang of excitement and dread the lantern in his hand. "L...listen, friend. You obviously do not d...desire us to rot in p...prison, and have an interest in the lantern, same as we. It is of utmost imp...p...portance th...that you allow us t...to have it."
If anyone actually touches Argor, it is clear that his body temperature is much lower than normal, and can feel the violent shivers rolling through his body.
Nyugusk smiles, his impossibly wide mouth seeming even wider, tusks sticking out in every direction.
Flashing his wayfinder he says, "The name's Nyugusk Newblossom. Don't worry, we're on the same team. Let's discuss as we walk back to the lodge." Pausing to give Argor a long look he says, "Can you walk? You look terrible."
From inside some shadows comes a small, thin voice, "Well met, Master Newblossoum. I am Hrimnagel Avaldamon at your service."
Grommuk looks at Nyug with a passive tide of dumbness that can't be muted. On the bright side, the half-blood's appearance does not seem to garner any particular reaction or prejudice from the huge orc. After several seconds, he finally realizes that the lantern in the room is the same one they had sought previously. Grommuk's face lights up with something between excitement and confusion.
"Skelg not die? Lantern work?"
"I'll m...manage. Beng...geirr unleashed the s...same curse on m...me. W...we have t...to end this quickly."
Cladissa nods in agreement. Wouldn't we want to go back to Skelg's estate rather than the Lodge? That's where the tapestry was, she notes, remembering how dire the need was to move on this. Then another idea strikes her. Unless we're off the job and we need to turn the lantern over to someone else. She deflates.
Argor shakes his head. "I will not leave my fate in the hands of another! D...despite my current condition! W...we m...must get this b...back to...somewhere for m...me to f...figure this out! Seeing as it is b...bound to the t...tapestry, that s...seems the logical ch...choice."
From inside some shadows comes a small, thin voice, "For once, I agree with Argor. I won't have saved his life just so it can be lost to this curse. To Skelg's estate with all haste."
Nyugusk’s head snaps toward Hrimnagel when he speaks up. ”Marvelous! I’d heard that you just fade out of sight, but it’s astonishing, really. Well met. And please, feel free to call me Nyugusk. We’re to be working together now.”
When Argor says he’s capable of going on, the beastly half-orc gives him a skeptical look but says ”OK, let’s go then.”
In response to Cladissa, Nyugusk replies ”Tapestry? Sorry now that we’re out of the station I think you all should catch me up, and I should probably return the favor. I’ve been with the Pathfinders just a bit longer than you crew. Alchemical research is one of my specialties and so I’ve been reading your files when I was able. When your comrade Cyrill died, well, his family should be comforted knowing that in his misfortune was a fine advancement to the state of chymistry and natural philosophy as a whole.”
At this point his speech is speeding up with excitement. ”I won the opportunity to study his remains, including the remainder of his last mutagen, together with their interaction with the Numeran serum. As you know there was little to dissect, it was a fascinating challenge, but through careful isolation of his remaining humors I noticed some bizarre irregularities, particularly to his black bile. But his hypothalamus remained solid and turned out to have the true key to--” Suddenly realizing this might be a touchy subject if these people were friends of Cyrill’s, he glances at the other freaks and then quickly changes the subject.
”Yes well, what matters is I cracked the mystery of why his mutagen and the serum interacted…negatively for him.” He says, no longer speaking at a breathless pace, ”And persuaded the Masters to let me use one of the remaining doses of serum. What you see before you is proof of it’s success,” he says stretching his arms out. "This morning Venture Captain Hestram assigned me to bail you out...and then to join your squad, since it seems you could use the assistance of a seasoned pathfinder, and a fellow transmogrified freak.”
Looking at the others, he says, ”But you mentioned a tapestry back at Skelg’s? By all means, I know only what Hestram was able to brief me on about your status. I was able to persuade the watch captain to speed up your processing, and that of the lantern. What do you know about how to reverse the curse? Let’s go to Skelg’s, if that’s the right destination, and let me know what I need to know about this curse.”
Cladissa pauses in mid-step and listens to Nyugusk wide-eyed. She kept up from topic to topic, though by the end of it her mouth had dropped open.
You took the serum?!? she asks, incredulous. She had pretty much convinced herself that her and the others' reactions to the formula would be more a cautionary tale than anything to be envied. She herself was conflicted about having taken it, and feared that the mutations were not yet over. She hadn't imagined that others would want to follow in their footsteps.
She shakes her head from that line of thought; other matters were at hand. I'm sorry. Um. You asked about the tapestry. It's at Skelg's, and while it's inert now, it radiates conjuration magic. The lantern apparently opened a portal to a frozen ship centered on the tapestry. So unless the lantern has its own method of reversing the curse, our best hope is what lies on the other side of that tapestry.
She begins hustling through the streets toward the Ivy District with the others, certain that Argor would say something if her theory didn't match his.
Argor simply nods at Cladissa's explanation. It didn't sync up perfectly with his own theory, but with little time to spare, it would have to do. "You all m...may want to b...bundle up. If this p...portal leads to the same area generating the c...cold in me, trust in the f...fact that you'll n...need it."
Tyros welcomes the Pathfinders back into Greydog Manor. He leads them down to the basement, where the lantern is lit and pointed at the tapestry. A swirling, blue-white portal opens over it. As the group step through the portal, they find themselves in a strange ice-cave. Sunlight filters through the walls and ceiling, and three braziers give some warmth to this otherwise chilly space. Directly ahead of them, a tunnel leads through the ice, sloping steeply downward. Behind them, a shimmering portal hangs on what appears to be a main mast embedded in the ice. Following the mast downward, you can barely make out the blurry outline of a ship’s deck below.
An unprotected character in cold weather (below 40° F) must make a Fortitude save each hour (DC 15, +1 per previous check) or take 1d6 points of nonlethal damage. A character who has the Survival skill may receive a bonus on this saving throw and might be able to apply this bonus to other characters as well (see the skill description).
Argor shakily removes a couple scrolls from his collection, and utters the magic to cast one of them. A faint shimmer appears all around him briefly, then vanishes. He hangs onto the second one for now, however.
"L...let's go. I c...can't m...make Grom...muk bigger in these n...narrow corrid...dors."
"Stones and chasms! It's cold here. Do we have time to go get furs?" Hrimnagel complains in his small, thin voice from the shadows. He carries his longbow ready.
Cladissa shivers, suddenly wishing for the extra layers of clothing she had taken to not wearing due to the combination of summer heat and her new fur. While her natural coat will offer some protection, she nods to Hrimnagel. We ran in without preparation and it nearly ended us. Why don't we take a few minutes to prepare? Even if we don't go back to the estate, Skelg might still have some coats he's not using.
"Stones and chasms! It's still cold here. But this fur coat keeps me nice and toasty. Let's go." Hrimnagel proclaims in a cloud of mist with his small, thin voice from the shadows. He carries his longbow ready.
Wrapped in furs, Nyugusk finds himself musing, This chill-- it's the kind of problem that chymstry is made to solve, if only I knew the right extracts. Hrumph, so much to learn and discover!
In response to Cladissa, "You say 'We ran in without preparation and it nearly ended us'. You mean into here? Do we know anything else about this realm we're entering? Other than it being bugger-all-cold?"
He stands ready to go in beside Grommuk, where they fit side by side, or else right behind the massive orc. He keeps one clawed hand resting on the capped mutagen at his belt, scanning for danger.
There is nothing apparent in the first chamber other than the braziers. No sound is coming up from below.
"Let me go take a look around all quiet-like. Wait here." Hrimnagel suggests and moves slowly forward listening and looking.
She shakes her head when asked by the new member of the party. No. Back at the warehouse. She glances at Grommuk's new scar across his throat and swallows hard. We haven't been here before, but a servant of Skelg went through and hasn't come back. We should keep an eye out for him. Hopefully he'll still be alive and can tell us about this place.
"Let us n...not argue about the wareh...house right n...now. We h...have more p...pressing m...matters."
Argor will not argue against letting Hrimnagel slip on up ahead, but he does say to Grommuk and their new companion, "I b...believe y...you t...two should t...take p...point."
"Grommuk no understand muffle-mask shiver-words. Grommuk go up front when Hrimnagel done. Unless Hrimnagel scream loud, then Grommuk go sooner. And fast." He makes no mention of the frigid environment, but the cold is overwhelming even to him. He misses his blanket and bed already. Maybe they should have taken a nap before coming.
Nyugusk cringes a bit at Grommuk's pidgin Taldan, wishing he felt more in common with this hulking orc than he did. In the academy, they couldn't tell me from any other orc...so why do I feel like the gulf between me and this brother-of-my-blood is wider than that between me and an elf?
"Sounds good, Grommuk. I'll be right beside you."
Hesitating, he adds more quietly, "But, orc-brother, you need to work a bit on your Taldan grammar. I'd be happy to review a few points with you when we get back to the Lodge. Your phrasing, it'll give people the wrong impression."
Grommuk frowns deeply in Nyug's direction. Half-bloods were bizarre to him, if kindred in a sense. He could identify with having trouble belonging—that was familiar enough to him. Most of the half-orcs he had met or heard of had either labored under an orc's whip or begged for scraps at a human's table. Though he assigns neither to Nyug—so far—he can't help but chaff a little under the thought of wasting more time fitting in with people who didn't want him to begin with.
"Çəhrayı dəriləri kimi söhbət mənim üçün əhəmiyyətli deyil. İnsanlar özləri yüksək hesab edirəm. Mən bir daha onlara rəqs deyil. Onlar mənim sözləri hörmət edə bilmirsinizsə, onlar mənim yumruqları hörmət edəcək."
"Talking like pink skins does not matter to me. Humans think highly of themselves. I won't dance for them any more. If they can't respect my words, they will respect my fists."
Nyugusk, glances a bit at the others as Grommuk shifts into orcish. Who amongst them speak's my father's tongue? Then, a moment later: And why should I care? I have nothing to hide, nothing to prove.
"Mən sizin qürur istəyirəm! Və Mən onlara çox orcish yaxşı danışmaq şübhə, ədalətli nöqtə var. Hələ ki, biz bütün yeni bir şey çevrilir ... İndi transmogrifying, və biz əvvəl daha yaxşı, kamilliyə çatan edirik. Siz onlara rüku lazımdır, heç vaxt, lakin onların dili faydalıdır. Bu hörmət üçün mübarizə daha asan ola bilər."
Cladissa's eyes dance between the two orc-kin as she watches the exchange. Then she shrugs, and pads lightly down the hallway after Hrimnagel, pausing at the bend in the tunnel.
She studies the ground, looking for signs of tracks of anything else that may have passed this way.
Argor eyes the two talking in their native tongue, but makes no reply.
Great. Another language to come to terms with, if I survive this...
He patiently waits for Hrimnagel's reconnaissance to be completed or for the two brutes to move along. Whichever comes first.
Hrimnagel makes his way slowly and quietly down the tunnel. Seeing nothing immediately, he follows the downward curving path through the ice. The sloped tunnel is slippery, but after a long curve it suddenly opens into another cave at the rear deck of a ship. More braziers keep the worst of the cold at bay, but a wall of solid ice blocks access to the foredeck. A large drum stands on the deck, and behind it is a trapdoor leading into the hold.
Cladissa's eyes dance between the two orc-kin as she watches the exchange. Then she shrugs, and pads lightly down the hallway after Hrimnagel, pausing at the bend in the tunnel.
She studies the ground, looking for signs of tracks of anything else that may have passed this way.
[dice=Survival]1d20+2
Cladissa finds no tracks on the smooth ice. Anything that passed through here hasn't left a trace.
Hrimnagel returns to the group. First to Cladissa, he says, "Cladissa, I suggest you stay behind Grommuk and perhaps get the healing wand from Argor."
Addressing the group, his small, thin voice originates from next to Cladissa, "The path through the ice curves downward. The sloped tunnel is slippery, but after a long curve it suddenly opens into another cave at the rear deck of a ship. More braziers keep the worst of the cold at bay, but a wall of solid ice blocks access to the foredeck. A large drum stands on the deck, and behind it is a trapdoor leading into the hold. I'll investigate the drum, brazier, and trapdoor, so don't touch them until you hear from me. C'mon. " Hrimnagel informs and leads slowly forward listening and looking.
The room remains the same as before. An inspection of the drum and trapdoor reveal them to be mundane. There don't appear to be any traps on either of them. The trapdoor is unlocked.
Cladissa backs up behind Grommuk and casts her eyes over to Argor to see if he is willing to hand over the wand. She isn't eager to hold it, remembering the clammy, unnatural feeling of her flesh knitting together while under its magics.
Taking the wand or not, she creeps along with the group to the frozen ship.
When the group arrives, Hrimnagel whispers to them, "Looks clear here. Trapdoor appears unlocked and the only way to go."
While waiting for Hrimnagel to scout, she softly strikes up a conversation with Nyugusk. So, you studied the formula? Do you think there are ways to control the changes? Or reverse them? And do you think we should fight what's happening, or do we, you know, not resist?
As they wait, Nyugusk looks shocked by Cladissa's question. "Reverse or resist them? Why on Earth? " He pounds his chest and spreads his arms like outstretched wings.
Getting on a roll, he proclaims, "You and me -- we are lucky to have a previously unknown tool at our disposal, on the path toward self-perfection. Did Irori look for ways to reverse or resist the qi powers he developed through his meditations? Of course not. My life's work is to perfect myself through whatever means I have, and by Irori's will I've been graced with Great Alchymies. I hope to use them to my fullest ability, that I might best express and become the perfect being who's seed I bear inside of me."
Settling down a bit, he adds, "To answer you directly, I doubt even the most powerful alchemist could reverse these changes now, though I hope to be able to guide them...for I've seen hints that we've only begun to witness the effects of this marvelous serum." If anyone looks unsettled by that proclamation, Nyugusk doesn't seem to notice.
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When they get to the boat, Nyugusk suggests, "Hrimnagel, if you've checked out the trap door, why don't Grommuk and I lead the way inside? No sense standing here in this damn cold longer than we have to!"
Grommuk agrees with Nyugusk's assessment. Standing in the cold is dumb. He moves to the front of the group and wrenches open the trapdoor, before descending the short flight of steps.
The smell of death and rot fills this lower deck, even with the cold. It is darker down here without the sunlight filtering through the ice, and no braziers burn. Shadowy movements are visible in the darkness, accompanied by an eerie creaking noise as though someone were still working the oars. A figure moves toward you along the aisle between the rowing benches. It appears to be a withered human wearing an Ulfen burial mask. As Grommuk's eyes adjust he can also make out six frozen corpses working the oars. They stop and begin to rise as the orc descends the steps.
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Initiative
Party 16
Zombies 9
Haldyr 5
Argor mutters, with all the focus he can muster, the incantation to bring forth some light. The floating red orb dives down the tunnel behind and just above Grommuk.
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