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"Curious that we should find a secret room while performing a menial task at the behest of one of the Society's ranking personnel."
He takes in the room as he enters, leaning against a wall in the corner to give the more studious among the group access to the room. "What tutelage will we find here?"
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Klo follows the group’s lead, switching his heatless flame to his off-hand in order to draw a massive, well-used, thick-bladed knife with a long, curved edge from within his leathers. It’s a blade that looks well-capable of hacking easily through the thick-bodied fish of the cold waters of his homeland.
Then he moves forward, dark eyes darting around the room.
Curiosity gets the better of him, and he moves towards the little desk, using his blade to poke around at its contents.
Jikan is able to tell there's certainly at least once source of magic in the room-- before his fellow agents enter the room and start looking around. Kara, Klo, Korum, and Kul-Amon move into the room, with Yargul leaned against a corner out of the way.
Kara rifles through the dusty ledgers and journals and does find a few notes that catch her eye, but before she has a chance to do much more than begin to hold them up to the lamp's light...
...several of you hear the sound of skittering claws in the jagged tunnels that lead out of the chamber. Claws, and a low, raspy giggling.
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Klo’s body tenses, and his eyes flash between the caverns branching off the room. He steps north, holding up his club a moment as he squints into the gloom. Then his eyes widen.
”Walking bones!” he shouts as he drops his club and grips his blade in both hands, readying a strike should it come into his reach.
Kara: you know that these undead are covered in disgusting boils, which, if struck by a piercing or slashing weapon, will squirt out disease-laden pus, putting the living at some risk of contracting illnesses.
They can also trip people if they are given open ground to charge across, and if they bite a victim, they gain a temporary surge of faux-health.
Kara confidently issues drill orders like the seasoned pro she is, as the others move to hold the passageways. The festrogs scamper forward, moving more like animals than people. They hiss and snarl at both Klo and Yargul.
The good news is that Klo's hacking slash, better suited to fish bellies than undead, still completely destroys the creature, ripping it down to gurgle on the ground. The bad news is that Kara's warning comes a split-second too late for the fisherman to change tactics... he had his mouth open, even. Ew. Pus. Gross.
It's a one-two punch! Yargul wallops the hideous undead across the jaw, and Kara meets the head as it swings the other way with a brutal crack of wood. Her orders seem to ring in the air a moment before fading away.
The festrogs both lie as crumpled bags of bone and pus, no longer a threat to anyone.
With the abominations dead, it's easy enough for Kara to return to the desk and try to take another look at the papers that caught her eye. She finds two documents of especial interest-- what appears to be a letter from someone named Selmius Foster, whose words indicate that he was a Pathfinder, and another from someone named Adolphus, who apparently was a student of Foster's and has taken up Selmius's concerns, as outlaid in the notes...
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But Klo, no blades, blunt weapons, like this, she says matter-of-factly
Klo doubles over, hands on knees, and begins dry-retching. "Next time *heave* I listen."
When the stomach-emptying episode is over, the big man digs a water-pouch from within his leathers and washes his mouth out, spitting the foul water down on the festrog remains. "Dat was da grossest." He reclaims his torch, cleans his blade, and gives the festrog body a kick. Bad dog!" Then he makes his way to where the team is investigating the letters.
He begins reading. Painfully slowly. Out loud. It takes about ten minutes ... unless someone reads it for him. He stands in the dim light, face scrunched up in difficult thought. Then, realization strikes. A dumb sun rising.
”Hey! Guys! We can find dis gnome, yuh?” He nods enthusiastically, genuinely. ”We’re pathfinders, yuh?”
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"So, them's is lookin' pretty dead...again. What was that ya called 'em Cap? Festrogs? Pretty certain I ain't never heard of 'em. Pick that up in Cheliax did ya?"
They're akin to ghouls. All the savagery with none of the intelligence. Officer training in Canorate includes rudimentary knowledge of any basic undead we might encounter in the field. Besides, I know what Klo's going through. Never forget that taste. Kara pats the big man on the back, then reads through the documents more carefully.
”Hey! Guys! We can find dis gnome, yuh?” He nods enthusiastically, genuinely. ”We’re pathfinders, yuh?”
Yes, we have his address which might prove useful. But this Adolphus confirms the existence of a valuable clue in the stonemason's mausoleum. Perhaps we should go there first?
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After a minute of Klo reading, Jikan sighs and submits to the torture that ensues. Not sure I can take that again though. Hopefully I won't insult his sensibilities next time when I'm less patient... but he holds the letter so high...
He bides his time as Klo reads by searching the whole place.
He does Detect Magic in all the little crevasses he can find.
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After the painful reading, Jikan adds, "I don't know much about Dreng yet, but so far he seems pretty unconventional. Wouldn't put it past him."
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As Klo starts and stops in fits of literacy, Korum looks at some of the other bottles of wine on the racks. He picks one up, blowing off cobwebs and dust. He rubs away a thick layer of grime to read the label.
Hmm..not sure. This one's called 'Dogmoon'. Maybe it's a sign. I'm guessin' ain't nobody's gunna miss it.
Without looking, Korum successfully slides the bottle into his pack...
on his second attempt.
Ha hah! Ain't no one the wiser.
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Yargul clears his throat loudly, then gives Korum a glance. He taps the side of his pack, attempting to exchange that he's noticed the theft. With a slight shake of the head, he waits silently for a few moments before turning to the group.
Or perhaps the elf has been fighting some illness or gotten dust in his lungs from the festrog fight.
"This mystery has been a long time in the making, best we should unravel it as quickly as possible. Perhaps our timing will impress our future organizers."
With that, he heads out of the room, leaving the bottle to Korum's decision. He'll give a nod to the Desnan at the bar as he goes to claim his shield, and waits for the party to head to the mausoleum.
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Kul-Amon, abandoning his quest to make of the chair his newest weapon, looks from Yargul to Korum and back. "What my brother who follows another path is saying Korum is that the bottles of wine you are stealing are really badly hidden. You should try again and let Kul-Amon inspect you if you plan on doing that. If you get caught, Kul-Amon will say that the homeless-looking one expects a drink and the one he sent for is bolted to the wall. Also, Kul-Amon needs a mace, because Kul-Amon does not want to eat pus from dead creatures like Klo the Shoanti who is also a Pathfinder."
Taking a few moments to think further, he adds "Kul-Amon does not really care if Drendle Drang is a sneaky person. We have these papers. Kul-Amon thinks we should go to the mausoleum first, as dead people don't lie with their tongues. Because they have none."
Nodding to himself, he then mimics Jikan, searching every nook and cranny, pointing out things he feels the gnome missed.
The rain hasn't really let up as you make your way across Absalom to the Ivy District and the graveyard Selmius's notes spoke of. That self-same rain is no doubt responsible for the lack of visitors you see amid the gray stones, standing mausoleums, and a few weeping willows. In fact, you only see one figure moving within the cemetery's bounds: a middle-aged woman clad head to toe in gray robes that don't conceal her armor, with a solid-looking mace at her side. Her dark hair is shot through with a streak of a white, and a silver spiral hangs on a cord around her neck.
The woman moves with a measured cadence around the cemetery's periphery, from grave to grave, never pausing long at any particular one but striding unhurriedly around the perimeter of the cemetery.
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"Kul-Amon sees no harm in talking. But if Jikan wants to sneak about like the venture-captain but better, then maybe Jikan should not be with us to talk. Kul-Amon will not sneak for the All-Seeing Eye thinks that sneaking is stupid when one can be invisible."
The orc shrugs. "Kul-Amon doesn't make the rules."
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Looking from the big man to the others,, Korum gives a sigh, "Ya know I was gonna share right? Bah, yer all worse than my sister." He grumbles as he removes the bottle and sets them on the table.
*****Later, outside the graveyard******
As they watch the cleric making her rounds amungst the headstones, Korum chimes in.
"Hey there Captain, I gotsa a light foot when needed. That said, I'm thinkin you 'er me needs to be the one to chat her up. You seem to know what the Hades is goin' on here, so how about I have a nice talk with' er?" He looks down to the little gnome, "No offence Jikan, but yer a little weird."
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"Alright, alright. Simmer down. Don't mean nuthin by it."
Korun saunters up to the cleric. "So, you tend to the dead, huh? Wouldn't ya be more effective helpin' the livin'? That's what my sister thinks. She fancies herself as a holy warrior, runnin' off ta help the helpless. I say that its the dead who are the most helpless of all. Whataya think? Names Ratchet by the way. Who mighten you be?"
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Kara nods along with Korum.
You're sister's right, of course. Pharasma's teachings show a strong respect for the living, and the immortal remains of the soul in the afterlife. But the corporeal remains are something separate, and altogether unimportant. Consider an undead creature spawned from the corpse of a riteous man. Is it not our duty to strike down that abomination, no matter what good deeds the living soul who inhabited such a body may have commmitted in life? So it seems strange to entrust with a valued member of the clergy the lifeless shells of those whose souls have already passed to the Boneyard. Unless your charge is to keep said bodies from reanimating as undead, in which case it would appear as though your task here is in keeping with the core tenets of Pharasma's faith...
The priestess regards Korum soberly and stern-faced, but gives him a polite nod at his approach, her head tilted to the side as he speaks.
"Greetings, Ratchet. I am Hadriana, and as you may see by my symbol, I am devoted to Pharasma, who guards the rest of the dead. As such, it is my task to make sure that the tombs here are treated with respect-- even in Absalom, there are those who would try and steal from the dead, or disturb their earned rest in some way. As you say, they are indeed vulnerable, no longer able to do anything in their defense. So it falls to me. May I assist you somehow? Were you looking for a particular tomb, in order to pay respects?"
On hearing the name of Arkath, Hadriana nods. "Yes, I know of the edifice. A particularly nice one, more so than those of greater station, but a craftsman might as well see to his eternal resting place with skill, hadn't he? It is this way."
Hadriana leads to Arkath's mausoleum, which is well made and carved with dozens of gargoyles and other intricate decorations. The priestess gestures at the arch doorway; inside the edifice is a simple sarcophagus, broad and short enough to suggest Arkath might have been a dwarf rather than a human. Hadriana stands in the rain outside, politely allowing you to enter and 'pay your respects' on your own.
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Kul-Amon takes on the task of distracting the stern-faced priestess. Hmmm. Kul-Amon wonders if she is mated to anyone. "We thank you Hadrianna of the Lady of Graves. Kul-Amon, servant of the All-Seeing Eye finds your work here admirable. The dedication you show makes Kul-Amon envious, wishing that he had a purpose that was in a place. I think the smart ones say "Anchored", but I do not see many boats whenever they use that word. Is your duty here eternal, or are you given the freedom to leave sometimes? Kul-Amon would like to talk about your duty with you and maybe talk about the gods' rules to mortals if you have the time. Maybe around some wine that isn't affixed to walls. Kul-Amon knows this place called the Wounded Wisp. It has many bottles, and Kul-Amon believes that at least some are drinkable."
The priestess is torn between her sense of duty bidding her keep an eye on these tomb-visitors, and in listening to Kul-Amon with a slightly furrowed brow.
"...yes, well... it is probable that when people speak of 'anchored' in the sense you are referring to, they are referring to a sort of metaphorical state of being anchored; as a ship is kept in place by an actual anchor, so a person may be kept in place by duty which can be like anchor, do you see?" Hadriana apparently is one of those people who cannot help but try and Explain. "However, I am not sure precisely what you mean by wine that is affixed to walls. That's a metaphor I'm not familiar with..."
Meanwhile, Korum's sharp eyes spot a brick that looks eeever so slightly askew in the otherwise expertly-joined stones of the interior wall. A careful inspection reveals a hollow noise when Korum raps it with his knuckle-- a secret compartment!
Nooo sweat. The wine cellar thing was just a warm-up. Korum takes advantage of Hadriana's focus on Kul-amon (as well as the vaguely dirty look she gives Yargul) to carefully and noiselessly slide the brick out, revealing a hollow section in which glints a bit of gold. The coin is swiftly pocketed, with Hadriana none the wiser.
"That's... certainly an interesting offer... well perhaps we could discuss comparative theology, mister... Kul-Amon of the All-Seeing Eye, was it...? Nethys has always struck me as a rather fickle god, but it is possible I have misjudged..."
Are Kul-Amon's smooth, smooth moves working on Hadriana? Does he have a DATE? It kind of seems that way.
"So..." Hadriana fiddles a little with her holy symbol of Pharasma, clearing her throat as she looks Kul-Amon over again, taking note of his muscles and the rather striking eyes and so forth. "Oathday, perhaps...?"
But at this point, those who have 'paid their respects' to Arkath are able to exit the tomb, possibly giving winks to indicate Mission Successful, which may read as 'winks of 'good job dude you got a date'.' Who knows.
Through his cantrip Jikan is able to tell that the coin-- a simple gold piece with inscription and face-of-some-ruler or another so worn as to nearly be illegible-- is in fact magical...
Once out of the cemetery, a more in-depth study of the coin might reveal its properties.
Pathfinder's coins can be used to record and deliver short spoken messages. The method of retrieving the message is to place the coin on top of a wayfinder; this activates the old Azlanti magics within the coin and will cause it to speak its message aloud. A pity you all were too broke to spring for the commemorative Confirmation wayfinder, eh?