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Rubbing his head and straightening out his gear in an attempt to recover some dignity, "C'mon Shay! See this behavior? This right here? This is the reason you can't keep a boyfriend. Now then, it looks like our guy was here, but something(s) captured him and dragged him out of the cavern. The tracks head this way."
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Kul-Amon frowns, but stays silent for a few moments, long enough to be a few hundred paces from the opening, following the drag marks. But, no longer able to contain himself, he states solemnly: "I do not see how Shaya Silver-Skin's behavior does not allow her to keep any mate she so desires. That grab was well executed; I do not know many of my kin who would have been able to get out of it." He pauses, slowing down to double check certain anatomical features before adding "Nor are her buttocks too large for her frame, in Kul-Amon's mind. Kul-Amon thinks that if Shaya Silver-Skin isn't able to keep mates, it is because they are weaklings who cannot handle the power of her female form. So they run away like cowards. Or maybe if they aren't of orc-blood, they cannot understand our ways." At that, his eyes take on a sad, bitter look. "Yes, there is much ignorance of the ways of the sand orcs. It must be the same for Shaya Silver-Skinned and Korum the Allspeaker and their people. Lots of weak, stupid not-orcs. Kul-Amon is blessed by the All-Seeing Eye not to travel with any of them."
Future Society aspirants will scratch their heads and laugh at this moment of levity among the smashed bodies, ichor-covered cave floors, and haunting ambience of this mission. Then again, Pathfinders have always been cut from a different cloth.
But, as always, the immediacy of the mission re-exerts itself, and right as the team follows Korum’s lead forward, something catches Jikan’s arcane senses. Buried under the sand near where the two beasties ambushed you, a few magical items reveal themselves: a scroll and three vials.
The group marches forward into the gloom. The natural caverns suddenly give way to worked stone and metal fixtures. Dangling glass balls flicker and cast a weak, greenish glow across the chamber. Ahead, a series of green-tiled, wide, terraced stairs slope up to an imposing bronze door, partly torn from its hinges. The stairs bear hundreds of symbols that seem to warp and flicker.
The reek of decay, along with a pungent, acidic smell fills the chamber. As you peer farther into the room, you squint to see heaps of bones and garbage scattered about. On both sides of the bronze door — barely visible at this range through the weak, green flicker of the room's light —numerous small idols sit in niches and nooks. Their clumsy design clearly contrasts the delicate swoops and strokes of this large room's walls and door.
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Jikan coughs as he comes near the room. "That does not smell good at all." I am glad that I'm never in the front to "experience" it first...
"I don't think acid is a uniquely dragon thing. There are a few spells that can do it as well. There is probably something weird and exciting tucked away somewhere in this cavern. This is a really, really HUGE cave."
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Kul-Amon raises an eyebrow and offers: "Very well. Kul-Amon will not tell you that, even if it is true."
Not seeing anything off about the scene, apart from the odor, he adds: "We should move forth. The weird and exciting thing is not going to come towards us, unless it is really strange and the winds of arcana will it."
Jikan’s efforts inspecting the vials prove insightful. He identifies two of the three as potions of cure light wounds. The third remains a mystery.
As Jikan and the stragglers catch up, Korum and Kul-Amon press forward into the new chamber. And while Korum can’t find any details supporting his dragon theory, the Nethysite finds the telltale signs of ritual in the way the little idols are decorated. The significance, however, remains elusive.
Perception
Korum Perception = 21
Initiative
As Korum scans for information, though, something catches his eye. His instincts kick in. He squints into the darkness, following his gut.
There. Up on the wall. Near the door and above one of the strange shrines. A small humanoid clings effortlessly, silently to the wall. Skin pale as a slug's belly. Head, arms, and legs too large for its small frame. Korum's orcen eyes lock the thing's bulbous, red eyes for one extended heartbeat.
Then, without warning or sound, it launches itself at you, covering far more distance — and far less time — than you'd have expected. It lands, threatening the surprised Kul-Amon with teeth and club.
The little speedster smacks Kul-Amon in a gap in his armor along his ribs as it races past, leaving Korum far behind as it darts among the legs of the taller pathfinders then ends with a final, explosive leap that carries it up over Jikan's head.
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"What th'... what IS that thing, other than ugly?" Shaya says, head whipping to try and follow the racing creature's movements. "--sorry, Shelyn, I mean, what um, is that thing that doesn't conform with my expectations of aesthetics. --though I'm pretty sure it's ugly inside."
With glaive in hand, Shaya tries to examine the beast a little closer. With the glaive. So to speak.
Korum hacks a chunk of skin from teh creature's hide. It shrieks, but continues its frenzied assault. Shaya's aim is less true.
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Kul-Amon grunts in pain, baring his teeth to the creature as he steps on closer to it. "Shaya of the Silver-Skin; it is ugly on the outside too. Let the lady Shelyn know. As I will let this creature know of my wrath."
Kul-Amon's weapon flies through the air, but the aim is mediocre; is spins back into Kul-Amon's hands without having done anythign but give the creature a close shave.
Kul-Amon's hurled weapon slashes the air before retiring to his waiting hand. Korum warily stands his ground.
Dulcinea failed to connect. The little creature snarls in frustration at the wall of bodies between itself and its elusive little quarry, so it pounces on the only weakness it can find. Stepping up, it flurries with club and maw, trying to overwhelm Kul-Amon.
The creature ducks, using Kul-Amon as a body shield against Shaya's attack. No amount of cowering can protect it from Old Faithful, though, and a blast of arcane force catches it square in the chest.
Two more attacks meet nothing but air, and the creature barks out what you can only assume is a series of vile taunts.
The little creature — faced with multiple threats — focuses its defenses on the row of brutish-looking half-orcs. This poor decision will be his last, as Yargul's booted heel cracks down on the base of its skull. With a sickening crunching sound, the thing's bulging eyes roll back and it collapses to the floor, its life quickly fading from its body.
Other than the creature's twisted little club, a wand sticks out of its grubby little garb. And now that the fight is over, you realize that there are little bone and basalt idols — 20 to be exact — crowding around the tiny shrines near the doors.
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Kul-Amon grunts grumpily. "Well done, Yargul of Irori. Kul-Amon will now mend the flesh and draw lessons of his failures"
His flesh knitting back together, the half-orc looks about the cave they are in. "What was it? And why do you think it attacked us?" he asks, looking for further signs of the direction the minotaur prince has been dragged in.
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Jikan brushes off the dirt on his clothes form the hasty retreat. "Was scary call for me. Rare I find myself directly next to an enemy like that." Jikan seems to exaggerate the danger more than it was.
He casts Detect Magic about the room, making sure nothing magical is missed, before heading to the door with the rest of the party.
"What was it? And why do you think it attacked us?"
Further searches — magical or mundane — reveal nothing more about this room. None of the idols appear magical to Jikan's detection attempts, the unidentified wand, however, is another matter.
Korum is able to pick up the trail easily after the fight, and he points the way. Very quickly, however, the complexity of the maze exerts itself, obscuring this easy trail. The curving, branching halls of this structure are lined with the same stone as the natural caverns outside, and the arched ceiling meets high overhead. Nearly every surface boasts inscribed text—some of it delicate and flowing, but surrounded by a tangle of jagged and hastily etched scribbles. The endless twisting passageways inspire a faint sense of vertigo, as if the floor were swaying underfoot.
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The half-orc cleric snorts, grinning in a ... rather disturbing way. "Roses on wet hay. Kul-Amon knows neither of those things, but the scent you are smelling is far more complex then that."
He closes his eyes and raises his palms towards the ceiling. "Kul-Amon smells the blood of his wounds, the flesh upon his breath, the fear in his musk. Follow Kul-Amon, and he will take to where this scent ends."