The young man wipes his face nervously. "The one who put me here. I was, you know, out for a walk around the Plague House a couple of nights ago, and I saw this blue fire on the south side. I tried to get a little closer and this half-orc pops up out of the dark and hit me with, I think it was a sap, before I could even move. Next thing I knew, I was stuck in here. I shouted for help and he, I guess, pounded on the door and told me to shut up or he'd gut me. Of course I shut up. What would you do? Things would be quiet here during the day, and then at night I'd sometimes hear him talking with someone else. I don't know the language. Can you get me something to eat?"
Jarrek grinned at the exchange, since he was a half-orc but apparently not the half-orc. "I have some food. It may be a little spicy for you, but it'll put hair on your chest. What was your name again?" The big man swung his pack off his back and started rummaging around in it for some of the hot pepper-studded hard sausage he carried to snack on.
The young man snatches the sausage away from Jarrek. "Thanks! I'm Othdan." He quickly devours the piece. "A little mild. You should try the stuff my folks make."
Svarog, too, set down his pack, lifting out some hardtack and cheese almost as hard. He passed them to Othdan without comment, but was staring at the man in an unnerving manner. He would have invited the half-orc to come in and try it, and felt that any true man of Trunau would do the same.
Finally, satisfied that all was as Othdan claimed, he waved for the man to follow them. "Tell us about the half-orc. Did you see what he looked like? Why were you walking near the Plague House?"
"I was going to be, ah, meeting someone here. You know how it, ah, is, right? The half-orc...I think I'd know him if I saw him. He was a little older--going grey. Nothing weak about his arm, though." Othdan rubs his head and winces.
The young man snatches the sausage away from Jarrek. "Thanks! I'm Othdan." He quickly devours the piece. "A little mild. You should try the stuff my folks make."
Jarrek laughs at the man's comment. "Who are your people, Othdan? I'd pay good coin for spicier sausage than that."
"I was going to be, ah, meeting someone here. You know how it, ah, is, right? The half-orc...I think I'd know him if I saw him. He was a little older--going grey. Nothing weak about his arm, though." Othdan rubs his head and winces.
Jarrek laughs again, nodding. "Oh, we know how it is, Othdan. Too bad about this half-orc, though. Ruined your night, sounds like." He nods back in the direction of the hallway. "These voices, you have any idea which way they were coming from?"
The young man grins. "If you want the good stuff, we're down at the Barterstones Toildays, Oathdays, and Stardays. The voices?" He indicates the direction of the Iomedean meditation room. "Down that way. It was hard to tell exactly through the door, though."
It takes a while for him to catch up, but Haftor finally realizes why the lad was out here at such a deserted place. He simply shakes his head in disappointment.
"Tsk. So much loose morality hereabouts."
He asks to nobody in particular, "How does a kidnapping fit into our investigation? Doesn't sound like a coincidence, but I don't see a connection."
Kira shakes her head, "It probably doesn't, just... swept up, wrong place wrong time. I don't see why we can't let Othdan go home."
It's getting late in the day, and Othdan would like some guidance out. He woke up in this room, so he's not sure where he is.
Haftor's left eyebrow raises in intense consideration. He addresses his companions, ignoring the lad for the moment.
"I may not be the sharpest chisel in the drawer, but I know when things aren't adding up." He points at Othdan. "Letting the lad go is likely the right thing to do, but if we don't understand what's at play here, then he could be walking back into danger, or setting us up for some. He's been here for a few days, he can wait for a few hours more. Maybe we'll get more answers."
Jarrek nods at Othdan. "We aren't quite in a position to walk you out right now, Othdan. But if we can catch this captor of yours... would you mind waiting here for us to come back?" He gestures down the hall. "We'll go check out where you heard the voices coming from. You can come with us when we leave."
Jarrek pokes around a bit and discovers a moldering sack under the remains of the coal pile. It clinks when he hefts it, and turns out to contain 55 platinum pieces. There's nothing else in the room.
Although he looks a little uncertain about the whole thing, Othdan's desire to depart exceeds his discomfort at spending time in proximity to the halfling, and they leave.
Svarog frowned as Othdan left, but saw no real reason to keep him there, despite Haftor's advice.
"Let's try the other doors," he grunted, gesturing for Kira to try them with her lockpicks.
Haftor nods.
The remaining doors are unlocked, so Kira's skill is not needed. Svarog opens the door to reveal a chamber whose walls are pocked with skull-sized cubbyholes, each containing a single brass or clay urn. Some are intact, but most are shattered or dented. A lightly colored stone statue depicting what appears to be a burning chariot wheel occupies the northwest corner of the room. You've opened one of the two doors that access the room.
Kira and Jarrek see nothing out of the ordinary in the room, but Svarog and Haftor note something disquieting--there's a chain shirt and a few other glittery items floating a foot or so off of the floor in the middle of the room. The two quickly resolve a shadowy and nearly transparent bulk around the floating items!
Surprise Round:
Initiative order
Svarog
Haftor
Foe
"Careful! It's an ooze - hard to see. It can paralyze you if it touches you. Kira, if you have any fire, throw it onto the thing. We'll see how it likes alchemy from the other end of the stick."
Svarog sheathed his sword and drew his bow, stepping away from the door.
[ooc]Unless you have the Lore Master special ability, you can't take 10 on a Knowledge check in a stress situation. It's not clear what the urns held./ooc]
Haftor raises his crossbow and shoots the thing, wondering if it will do any damage.
Haftor's crossbow bolt tears into the creature, leaving a streak of brown behind it as the wood of the shaft begins to dissolve. Like a great wave, the cube moves ponderously forward, squeezing out through the doorway into the midst of the party.
Round 1:
Initiative order
Svarog
Haftor
Kira
Jarrek
Cube
Before the monster attacks, Jarrek nods at the statue. "He's one of Iomedae's emissaries, Jingh."
-----
Jarrek pulls his huge sword off his back as the cube surges forward. "An ooze? That doesn't sound so tough! Let's smash this thing into the floor!" His blade catches with magical flames as he stands ready to fight.
Svarog drew an arrow and sent it at the cube as well...
...and it sank into the ooze with a *splurch*.
Haftor takes a 5' step back from the creature (North, diagonal on the map), slides a throwing axe from his belt, and hurls it at the cube.
The alchemist takes a short step back and shoots the ooze with her crossbow, the bolt sinking into the wall of protoplasm. Leaking fluids but still mobile, it simply slides forward ponderously over Kira and Svarog.
Quickly stepping out of the way of the ooze, Svarog fired into it again.
Haftor takes another 5' step away from the creature (SW, left on the map), slides his only remaining throwing axe from his belt, and hurls it at the cube.
Kira skips back away from the ooze, giving a, "Whooaaa!" as she reaches into her pack to fetch out another of her bombs.
"Don't get many of these left!"
Kira lobs the bomb to the ooze, watching as it sinks in for just a moment before exploding.
The party continues to punish the hapless ooze as Kira and Svarog leap clear of its advance. The alchemist's bomb detonates inside the thing, and then Jarrek cleaves into it with a mighty swing. At that it finally loses its internal cohesion and collapses into a puddle of slime.
Glinting in the remains of the cube are a few items (beyond the heads of the party's arrows and bolts, and Haftor's axes): a sealed steel scroll case, a well-made chain shirt, a falchion, a rose quartz amulet in the shape of a star , 20 gp, 95 sp, and 144 cp in miscellaneous coinage. The amulet is worth 75 gp.
Haftor carefully fishes what's left of his axes from the slime. He wipes them down with a cloth and wordlessly puts them away in his pack. He also helps to gather the rest of the loot.
"This appears to be the extent of the basement. Is there anything else we need to do while we're here?
The scroll case contains a magical scroll. The chest on the stairs yields to Kira's efforts after a bit, revealing a masterwork hand crossbow, a case containing ammunition for the crossbow (ten normal bolts, ten cold iron bolts, and ten silver bolts), a potion bottle, and another pair of magical scrolls.
The sun is setting as you return to Trunau. Haftor's eyes and thoughts are focused on getting back home (and repairing his axes), so he misses some distant movement. The rest of the party, though, notices a half-orc making his way furtively in the direction of the Plague House.
Svarog gathered what he could from the remains of the slime, intending to divide it between them later. He wondered at the contents of the locked chest; why was this so valuable it had to be locked away?
Svarog hissed a warning to the others, putting a hand on Haftor's shoulder to stay him. He motioned for them to take cover, that the half-orc might come closer without noticing them.
Haftor stops abruptly and turns to face Svarog, eyebrow raised in a silent question as to why his personal space is being invaded.
When he sees the half-orc, he begins loading his big crossbow.
Knowing there's no way the party could follow the guy un-noticed, he waits to see if Jarrek will initiate a conversation.
Svarog runs in pursuit!
Haftor follows, stumpy legs churning.
Svarog gets within around seventy feet of the half-orc before he notices the pursuit. He immediately begins to flee.
+2 if his FE bonus counts
Svarog ran like a wolf, with long, loping strides that ate the ground quickly. Orcs were prey he knew, and he kept his eyes on the half-orc, anticipating a sudden direction change or a spin to fight him.
"Huff, huff."
Jarrek runs after Svarog, his eyes having no problems in the dark but not having eyes on the target itself.