"We've come this far..."
Did we ever find out what Jeeboo`s stuff was? From way back when:
"Go on ahead, I think."
Gil will look over the rod and scrolls, detecting magic and making checks as necessary.
Spellcraft for rod: 1d20 + 20 ⇒ (12) + 20 = 32
Spellcraft for scroll 1: 1d20 + 20 ⇒ (12) + 20 = 32
Spellcraft for scroll 2: 1d20 + 20 ⇒ (1) + 20 = 21
Did we ever find out what Jeeboo`s stuff was?
The tunnel leads on into a weird organic realm. The floor is slightly elastic and bouncy underfoot, and the walls are shot through with dark veins that pulsate slightly. The air inside is moist and warm and vaguely foul-smelling. As the group proceed more eyes open at intervals to track their progress. There are no side tunnels and the path feels uncomfortably like walking into the gullet of some immense creature, but nothing directly menaces them.
The passage eventually opens out into a large open space. More tunnels lead off to either side and a large sweeping staircase, seeming made of stacked plates of gristle, circles the circumference of the room, rising to a broad landing close to the ceiling. Standing upon this and looking down at the adventurers is a tall but hunched figure dressed in a red robe. The hood is thrown back to show an emaciated, almost skeletal face, with empty eye sockets covered with a layer of skin. A tentacle rises from each shoulder, idly twitching in the fuggy air.
In a papery voice it says, "I am Saoonah, the Master's chamberlain. The Master wishes to meet you. Please accompany me."
"Dolgaunt. Vampire. Keep your distance - those tentacles can reach surprisingly far", Janosz mutters. "Lead the way, abomination."
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Nothing of Jeebo's appeals to me....
"Who is your master, if I may inquire?"
diplomacy:
"The Master."
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The Master's chamberlain is certainly not talkative, leading the party wordlessy through his master's domain of corridors and rooms scupted of eerily-glowing flesh. They meet no one as they move through deserted hallways and passages.
Up ahead comes the sound of giant wheezing bellows and sloshing fluids, and a climbing stairway leads to a bridge across a cavernous space, the walls festooned with enormous shuddering viscera. Dark liquid dribbles from these into a series of standing pools, one flowing into the next. From the ceiling, huge fleshy sacs inflate, drawing in air, and then compress, forcing it down into the final pool below where the fluid froths and bubbles before being piped away through massive conduits that branch as they disappear into the wall. The stench is foul and the clamour of pulsing and grinding tissues is deafening. Dolgrim workers attend to this mysterious living machinery, clearing blockages with poles or clambering spider-like on the organs hanging above. As the group watch, one slips and falls shrieking from above into the final pool, to be swept away to some dark fate within the bowels of the flesh palace. The other dolgrims don't seem to notice and Saoonah don't bother to acknowledge the incident.
Crossing the bridge, they group find themselves in a smaller chamber, long and low and hung on either side with ranks mebranous vesicles the size of a man. Darks forms inhabit the fluid within. Most are still but a few twitch spasmodically - fully-grown dolgrims and dolgaunts held in suspended animation, waiting to be born.
"This is interesting. In a distressing sort of way."
heal
to see if there's anything I can intuit about any of this fantastic journey of sorts.
"Are we within a creature of sorts? Is it all one being, or a community or organs?
Sir guide, your Master.....what does the Master look like? Can the Master see us now?"
I'll try to detect thoughts on our guide.
"This is a proper aberrant infestation, I`ll grant them that. Of course, it highlights why these things must be wiped out as soon as they are found", Janosz mutters darkly. "All this within half an hour`s easy walk from home..."
"We oughtta get out more."
From the chamber with the embryonic aberrations, Saoonah leads them to another room. This is taller, shorter and wider. Along the walls are small cells, perhaps two feet across each and stacked as in a honeycomb. Most are sealed with a clear membrane which bulges out slightly, as if under pressure, and roughly spherical objects can be seen to be resting inside surrounded by clear fluid. A few, however, are open and empty revealing the chambers to be roughly box-like inside. Underneath each cell can be seen runes carved on, or perhaps grown from, some sort of bony material.
In the centre of the room is what looks like a chair, though in keeping with the rest of the place it seems to be made from skin, gristle and bone. Claws growing from its arms and legs hold fast a slumped body - the boy who was taken from the ceremony. His head hangs forward, revealing that the top of his skull has been neatly removed. The cavity inside the cranium is empty, the brain scooped out. Above the chair, sprouting from the ceiling and folded motionless against it is a long, wiry arm. At the end of its splayed fingers are delicate cutting instruments, like scalpels.
Saoonah waits until the adventurers have entered and then simply stands by the door, gazing into space. A voice, seemingly coming from nowhere murmurs, So, how do you find my cellar? That is the term, I believe - where one matures foodstuffs, wine? While such particular nourishment doesn't suit my palate, I believe the analogy is nonetheless.... apt.
"It seems to be infested with vermin," Rolund responds. "May I suggest a good exterminator?"
"Simply charming, He-whom-Saooonah-refers-to-as-master. If I'm ever in need of an interior decorator, I'll be sure to ask for a reference.
Now,.....what is all this about? Who are you, and what do you intend here under our fine city?"
"Too busy for my taste."
What is it all about? I'm not sure I understand the question. You have entered my domain, I assumed you wanted something of me.
"What are you doing here? In my city?"
Your city? I have been here for hundreds of years. You have been here a tiny fraction of that time. Why should I not be here?
"Actually, we were not aware of your presence. We were looking for someone else. How did you come to be here? Hundreds of years ago, what was the city above like? Was it even there?"
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Ezreal snaps, "Enough of that. We are looking for the Khyber shards one of your people stole from a creation forge in Cyre about five years ago. There were three. We want one. We have reason to believe they found their way back to you."
These is genuine puzzlement in the mental voice. Khyber shards?
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"If you do not know of the shards, then you have allied yourself with dangerous individuals."
"We were trailing one of them traveling with a group that entered into your "cellar,"" Rolund explains.
"And you have the remains of one his entourage," Rolund continues as he points to the brainless body.
"Is he still here? Or has he left?"
Only my servants and you have entered my domain. But your talk interests me.
What appears to be a fold in the wall opens up to reveal another corridor. Saoonah jerks into life and proceeds to the opening. "Please follow."
Gil looks at the others uneasily.
"Shall we?"
looks around at the others.
"We've come this far..." Nevharath says somewhat apprehensively.
"Yeah. At this point, we might as well keep going." He gives his warhammer a twirl before following the dolgaunt.
Right on
The opening leads to a short corridor, which ends at another large chamber. This one has a tall arched ceiling supported by pillars of ribbed cartilage. The floor appears tiled, until it is noticed that the tiles are moving - twitching eyes, each about a foot across and covered by a flat hard lens.
At the far end, on a low dias, is a throne of bone. Over it rises a canopy of livid skin stretched between slender spars like a bat's wing. To one side stands the creature that calls itself Croke, looking nervous as the adventurers enter. With him stand four thugs - the two that took the boy from the ceremonial chamber and the others who accompanied Croke to the Master's palace, all gazing vacantly into space. Two more dolgaunts, which could be - and maybe are - clones of Saoonah, flank the throne.
Sitting on it is what initially appears to be a humanoid figure, dressed in a rich robe. But the limbs are too long and oddly jointed, the torso too narrow. The purple-brown fingers which idly stroke the arms of the throne seem horribly worm-like. And its alien nature is clear from the four-tentacled octopoid head atop the slender shoulders, the unreadable blank white eyes staring at the new arrivals.
Greetings. Welcome to my home. The psionic resonances of my true name are beyond you, so it is best of you refer to me as 'Master'. This also establishes the correct hierarchical relationships. I believe we were discussing some khyber shards which you consider should be in my possession. Please tell me more, particularly the link to House Cannith.
"House Cannith? What do you care? A "House" is just a herd of food beasts to one of your stature, "Mauster."
What are you worried about them for?"
A depressingly predictable response. I suppose the mammalian brain has trouble escaping its baser origins and biases. Notwithstanding, I have followed your exploits with some interest. I have heard about Rodergo's Reavers even down here. I note one of your number is missing - Torchholder, I believe - and you have a new member.
Plus, I thought you came here seeking enlightenment as to addressing your predicament. My servant Gelb and I are here to lend assistance. But it is difficult to do so withour your sharing of the relevant information. I may have some insight into the matters which interest you.
"Yes; we will get him back though. He's a guest of the Lord of Blades for the nonce.
We're always looking for new talent; you could join, but....well, you'd have to do quite a bit of cleaning up first.
The whole internal organ fascination is somewhat blase."
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There is a note of amusement in the mental whispers. I think you are right - your readership is probably not yet ready for one such as I to join your ranks.
"We did venture here seeking answers, as you surmise. What sort of relevant information?"
Such as: what you were seeking...? There is a hint of exasperation in the tone. Fortunately I'm immortal so I have plenty of time while you talk around the subject.
"The shards are artifacts we are seeking to return to their rightful owners. In our course to recover them, we have encountered other interested parties seeking them as well. Your servant Gelb being one of them." Rolund explains.
"Perhaps you will find some better answers by asking your servant."
"I don't know what he's talking about, Master," replies Gelb. "All I knew was they were looking for Jeeboo."
The mindflayer turns to regard its servant for a moment. Sadly, he's telling the truth. It turns to regard Rolund. Which is more than you are, of course. Are your companions aware of the powerful compulsion which has been placed upon you? Mental compulsion effects are something of a speciality of mine. Hmm? No, I didn't think so...
"I knew there was something funky about that guy.
Compulsion, you say?
Brilliant! Ah,.....alas,......ahh, Mastur, if only your powers could be turned to good,........
the redemption of an illithid,......."
"If it's all the same to you, sir, we are not here to talk about Rolund. He has stood fast alongside us against many formidable foes. If he faces a personal challenge, he will come to us when he may."
"We sought Jeeboo because he received the shards. If he did not bring them to you, do you know who he might have sold them to or where he might have hidden them?"
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Ah, but he won't, sadly. The terms of the enchantment don't allow him to speak of it. But instead he will soldier on in silence, stoic and stubborn, until it kills him. In a few days. A pity.
But you are right, we should respect his privacy. So what is so special about these shards?