The corners of Eirtein's mouth start to twist upward, but stop, and suddenly he is staring quite intensely at Waifrin.
"I do believe that's true. There's something of Alex in your eyes. " After a few heartbeats his eyes drift back toward the others and he raises an inquiring eyebrow, his hand passes over his balding head, and his eyes loose focus before continuing his thought-slowed discourse.
"A Chelaxian Crux.... There are a number of places it might have been stored; it is not the sort of thing Aberian would find intriguing.... One ... two ... three ... four ... five ... "
He refocuses on Waifrin. "When I play the Game of Secrets, I have invariably strict rules. An item for an item. I will not give you a half-dozen secrets for one, even one as deliciously tantalizing as that. Neither do I wish to appear niggardly, or worse, as a cheating scoundrel. Indeed I hope that we will meet again and that I may be of service to you later. I owe you a secret, and I will deliver one, but I tender you a counter-offer first. Tell me a secret about your Crux, one that will help me decide where it might lie, and I will give you three secrets in return for your two -- AND a pledge that you will never divulge the fact that I struck such a bargain."
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Sense Motive:
A shiver runs down Waifrin's back at the mention of that name...and while she cannot read Eirtein's poker face, she opts to be hung for a sheep instead of a lamb, if it comes to it.
"I know it contains the keys to the wards on the old Pathfinder Lodge here in Westcrown," she replies. "You have my pledge, Eirtein Oberigo, I will say nothing of our bargain to anyone." She glances at Zara. "That holds for my companions also."
Eirtein's eyebrows shoot upward in surprise. "Delvehaven?! hmmmm.... very interesting indeed.... Such a thing is probably important enough that even our bubbleheaded mayor would not throw it away, probably he would even ensure its safety. So you needn't search the every closet in the manor, nor the city dump. He has probably tucked it into either the Asmodean Knot or the Nessian Spiral.
"Your first secret then. The entrance to the Nessian Spiral lies through the roped off double doors in the dining room. The Spiral is said to be the lair of devils and heavily guarded by magic.
"Your second secret. The Asmodean Knot is a space contained within a magical mirror somewhere in the attic. The stories don't say exactly where.
"Your third secret. Years ago a thief tried the Knot. Details are quite confused. The man apparently returned half-deranged, but whispers are that the Knot is also guarded by devils, and undead shadows."
"If someone were to find the Knot, and plumb its secrets, I would pay well to know them. Very well indeed."
Eirtein beams at the party. "I do hope I see you all again very soon. You can rest assured of a warm welcome if you call on me at my villa."
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"The attic you say? I take it that part is above the main body of the house," Waifrin indicates the section the party have not yet explored.
"Indeed a pleasure doing business with you, Eirtein. I hope you see us soon as well, and I hope that when we do that we have much to discuss."
Waifrin turns to her comrades.
"Well, my friends, we have two choices. I think the mirror first - the roped off doors we not pass so easily at the moment," she suggests quietly.
Eirtein chuckles to himself, then addresses Waifrin. "My dear, please humor an old man and let me escort you out of the hall. It may raise a few eyebrows and convince some other ladies that I am still in the game."
If no one indicates actions in the interim, I'll assume you're all there and ready to go in my next post. And that Fiosa has made proper excuses so there will be no trouble with Crossael.
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"Of course, and you can by all means go and hint to them of all the delightful things we might have done," Waifrin laughs, and lets Eirtein escort her to the art gallery.
"Aberian's taste is enthusiastic, but not discriminating."
"What else does he have to do?" she responds a little sadly. "He seems a more than likeable man, in truth. Thank you again for your aid, however it was purchased. We'll assay the perils of the Knot and the Spiral, and maybe we'll get to live and tell the tail, who knows?"
"Of course, and you can by all means go and hint to them of all the delightful things we might have done," Waifrin laughs, and lets Eirtein escort her to the art gallery.
Eirtein scowls. "I would despise to so impugn a noble woman's honor."
"Aberian's taste is enthusiastic, but not discriminating.""What else does he have to do?" she responds a little sadly. "He seems a more than likeable man, in truth. Thank you again for your aid, however it was purchased. We'll assay the perils of the Knot and the Spiral, and maybe we'll get to live and tell the tail, who knows?"
"I look forward to seeing you all again. Good luck." Eirtein draws the cord across the stairway behind you as you file upward.
You enter the Main Attic, a vast dusty high-peaked room attic that is cluttered with crates, old furniture, and miscellaneous items that Aberian moved up here from the manor’s previous occupant. The clutter is tremendous; the northern stairs lead down to an enpty storeroom, while the southern ones go down to the art gallery. The northern door, alone of all the doors in the attic, is locked with a particularly impressive padlock.
Rooms opening onto the main attic include --
- A room with several filing cabinets, chests, and boxes contain old paperwork from Westcrown mayors dating back to the manor’s original construction hundreds of years ago.
- An empty room.
- This is an empty room with several sets of empty manacles hanging from the walls. Rather dusty and disused.
- A room half converted into a private theater—several months of work remain before it can serve as a functional performance hall.
- a Dressing Room for the theater.
Perception:
"Locks? I don't know anything about locks! All I know is how to sew, pray, and play the flute," Fiosa responds apologetically.
"Wait a moment," she adds, "Are you insinuating that all halflings are criminals and thieves? I expected more from you, Waifrin." Fiosa impishly pretends her pride has been gravely wounded.
"Let's try the strength of Henderthane's steel." Marius draws one of his short swords and walks up to the door. He wedges it in between the door and the hasp of the lock and twists, then pulls it back to pry the hasp open.
With a shrill squeal the nails holding the hasp to the jamb give up and with a final snap the hasp comes free. The three nails clatter to the floor, the padlock thumps against the door.
Apparently the sound is not enough to draw attention from the rest of the house.
After levering open the hasp Marius pulls the door open to reveal the North Attic. The contents of this room<crates, a tremendous clutter of old furniture, and miscellaneous items, are similar to those of the main attic, but much dustier. The room stretches away to the west, what must be the full length of the house.
In the south western corner is a door to another room. Investigation reveals that room to be empty, but the walls and back of the door are scratched as if by fingernails.
The dust on the floor shows that many of the boxes and piles of goods have been pushed around. Waifrin realizes that the footprints are concentrated around a jog in the northern wall, and Fiosa realizes that the corresponding wall in the kitchen does not jog inward the same way; in fact it jogs out.
Fiosa examines the suspicious-looking wall and then tries scanning the room with detect magic.
Take 10 on Perception = 23
While Waifrin moves stuff around, Fiosa will search more carefully.
Take 20 = 33
Feeling along the edge of the wainscot, Fiosa depresses a small hidden lever. There's a mechanical rattle and a narrow crack ripples into being in the wall. The crack defines a door-shaped area and with a bit of prying you open the door and step into a small room. The northern wall is brick, probably part of the kitchen chimneys. On that wall hangs a lusterless mirror. Dark shapes move in the mirror's face.
The "mirror" isn't quite. It seems equally to be a pair of double doors made of a flat grey metal. The surface seems moist and the reflections seem more like vague shadows and smears of light.
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"This would seem to be our goal..." Waifrin murmurs. She draws a deep breath and her eyes spark as her appearance changes...her hair flows differently as if stirred by wind none others can see, her skin glows with a metalic lustre, and she seems to be swell slightly taller.
Enervation 15%:
Drawing her dagger, she slips the tip under the edge of the mirror and sees if she can ease it away from the wall to see what is behind it or on the back.
"These doors are magic, all right. But besides that, there was some kind of magical trap on the doors, and someone deactivated it. Maybe we'll have some unpleasant company waiting for us inside..." Fiosa grimaces at the thought.
Waifrin's dagger sometimes slips into a gap, sometimes not when the mirror is flush against the wall. She is unable to pry it away. The mirror is immovably fixed to the wall.
Marius touches the face of the mirror and telescopes into it.
Fiosa follows as well.
As each character touches the face of the mirror:
A sudden sense of vertigo and you are standing in a long corridor. Four paired alcoves interrupt the walls. Behind you are a pair of flat grey metal "doors". At the far end, a slumped-over body, (corpse?) lies just in front of another pair of grey metal doors.
The walls, ceiling and floor all seem to be polished grey wood. Dim light is provided by slowly flickering flames in small cavities set periodically in the walls.
The body is indeed a corpse, a pale-skinned wretched looking ancient elven man. He's skeletally thin as if starved. His fingers end in plump fleshy nail-less bulbs. A series of stab wounds litter his chest and belly. His robes are long, threadbare and worn. One hand clutches a scroll and a very well-made backpack is slung over one shoulder. One blank scroll lies on the ground beside him, and another seems to be pinned under the body.
Fiosa puts a Light spell on her dagger and then detects magic on the corpse.
The backpack is magic. There is magic in one of his pockets.
Inside the backpack are a number of scrolls, also magic.
The tattered scroll appears to be a page from a book on devils. Scrawled in a shaky hand in the margin are the words , "Possible password, Vanderbaxis, VLenderaxitis, VLenkervandis, VLeddervaddus..."
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Zarabeta will first make sure that the man is indeed dead, and not stunned or bleeding out or a zombie or something.
Then Zarabeta will gingerly rummage through the dead man's stuff and tell the others what she's divined, "The backpack is magical, as is this pearl in his pocket, and these scrolls, all of which appear to be arcane necromancy."
Upon reviewing the tattered scroll, and avoiding reading it aloud, just in case, she'll wrack her brain for words that might fit the pattern being considered.
True hanging around here will get you nowhere.
Nothing springs to mind from Knowledge checks.
Fiosa could certainly picked up her gear on the way upstairs.
After just a few seconds, Zarabeta realizes that there is an unusual, nearly subliminal, message or statement coded in the text of the tattered page. It loops around her attempts to follow it, but just as she's ready to give up she thinks she sees a Garundi word. A second glance and it's plain that she didn't but suddenly the subtext is clear.
There's a contract woven into the words on the page. A contract with a devil named Nyxervex. A contract for the devil to kill the owner of the contract. Who, by your very possession of this piece of paper, is you.
And that trips another realization. What you have in your hand is an honest to goodness Runecurse. The runecurse is a time-honored weapon in Cheliaxian caster feuds. The point being to get your enemy to freely take possession of the runecurse even unwittingly.
[ooc] I need your first DC 22 will save. If you fail you take 2 points of wisdom damage. Now would be a fine time to begin a game of hot potato with your comrades, or perhaps there is one in particular you don't like?
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"This parchment contains a runecurse that will summon a devil." Zarabeta says quickly, her face tense as she visibly pushes back against some sort of mental assault. She takes a breath and adds, "Not today, it seems, but it will attempt to break free every day until it does. We should be prepared with silver weapons and appropriate counters for when it does appear. I can hasten it's arrival by simply handing it to someone else, and allowing it to attempt to test their will, if we wish to choose the time we face it and ambush the fiend, but right now, we should have a day before it can attempt to test my will again..."
Destroying the paper leaves the curse in Zarabeta's possession, and, since the paper is the only means of transferring the curse to another person, she will inevitably face the devil.
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"I believe it's too late to end the curse once it's affected someone by burning the paper. The curse is on me now, and can only be transferred by handing the paper to someone else. From what I understand, the accepted means to end it is to foist it off on some innocent schlub and let them suffer the devil's attack." Zarabeta says, "We can deal with it later, let's get this place explored for whatever this Crux was that whoever wanted."
"Devils!" Fiosa gasps. "Let's finish our work here quickly and maybe we can find some aid on the outside breaking the curse."
No traps there. No lock either. The double doors are the same smooth grey wood as the walls and floor. There are no obvious handles or knobs, but there is a simple flat panel where a knob or handle would be.