"Why we trust you with our gold. What stopping you from running after showing us 'entrance' if we give you our moneys?"
.
Daina bites at her lip for a moment. "We appreciate your concern, and it shows your intelligence that you are so cautious of us. But that price is a little exorbitant considering you could just as easily cross us. Perhaps we can settle on 10 gold?"
Thuffir looks hurt by Daina's attempt to further reduce the price.
"My lady, do not forget it was you who came to me, looking for information that could not be had elsewhere. I'm afraid I simply can't part with this particular morsel - and what a lucrative morsel, at that - for anything less than the 20 gold piece deposit I mentioned earlier," the red-haired bard says, rising to leave. "You may contact me here when you have the money and I will arrange to show you the entrance with all haste. Until then, I bid you fair travels and wish you all success at remaining beneath the notice of templars and kings."
Gorkhan smiles in an attempt to mollify Thuffir. "It is a lucrative morsel indeed. But you can't fault us for trying to get it at a rock bottom price. Nonetheless, the 20 gold deposit will be sufficient and we will get the money to you quickly. Hopefully before the morsel becomes stale. Many thanks."
Safia sat silently through the whole thing, "Do know that if you do not hold up on your end of the bargain we will find you and settle this. We will be angry." Small whiffs of grey smoke trail from Safia as she speaks, "Just a fair warning."
"I, um, of course, my lady," Thuffir says, gulping as he leaves the House of Fingers.
Your group rises and leaves a few moments later, returning to the dusty warehouse where you fill Nell in on the latest developments.
"The bard sounds like he can be trusted as long as there is profit to be had, so I'd hold off paying him until you're ready to go after the second clone," she says, shifting on the rough pallet and gingerly scratching the still-seeping wound in her side. "He'll wait at least a few days before selling the location to someone else, now that he thinks he has a fish on the line. Do you have what you need before venturing under the arena? You'll need to move quickly once your business there is done."
The young alliance member looks thoughtful.
]"Early evening might be the best time to use the baker's secret passage. The arena will be less active after dark, and you should have enough time to eliminate the clone and the dwarven templar and return to the bakery before it opens at dawn."
"I suppose you could go during the day, instead, and try to blend in with the gladiators and workers in the arena," she says, before glancing at Raun and Nnn'tkklik'l. "If, um, you think you could try the subtle approach."
No. Grit comments. Early evening is best. Let us rest and prepare We shall leave at dusk.
Nell thinks for a moment when Nnn'tkklik'l mentions healing supplies.
"In better circumstances we could requisition potions from the alliance, but it's too dangerous to make contact now. But there is a fire priest in the Elven Market who owes me a favor. Lorl Wysh at the Hall of Light - he's touched, like most fire clerics, but he produces a special healing salve that is relatively effective for the cost. The salve doesn't work unless activated by someone with a knack for healing, so Lorl charges less for it than he might otherwise."
"Should all sleep if can, may not be much more after the start." Raun suggests, looking around at the others. She stretches as she heads aay towards her belongings, bundling some scraps of fur and sitting them atop her weapons bundle for her pillow.
With a plan made, the group begins making preparations.
Leaving the others to see to their weapons and spells, Safia sets off to the Elven Market, reaching the Hall of Light as the last rays of the setting sun reflect through the strings of crystals hanging from the doors and windows of the sparsely furnished adobe hall. Lorl, the fire priest, is as strange as Nell described, insisting on finishing a strange, dancing prayer that appears to consist of chasing the shadows cast by a flaming censer he swings perilously close to the crimson and gold silks draping the walls.
His prayers finished, the cleric is happy to conduct business, producing three pots of the stinking salve and gladly accepting the reduced payment after Safia mentions Nell's name. With the salve in hand, Safia excuses herself before the touched priest tries to involve her in a new round of devotions.
You sleep late into the next day, then spend several more nervous hours waiting for sun to set. The darkened streets of the Merchants' Quarter remain active as the residents of Tyr take advantage of the last cool hours before curfew; a few blocks away, sounds of revelry echo down the alleys from the Elven Market, where the king's curfew carries as much weight as a street urchin's promise.
The bakery near the arena is shuttered when you arrive, but the owner ushers you into a rear entrance when you rap on the heavy wood door.
"Come, quickly, before a templar patrol sees you," the man says, one thick arm holding the door while the other points to a darkened stairwell leading to the cellar. Below, worn stone pillars support the wood-beamed floor of the bakery above. Plaster covers a patchwork of stone walls in several styles. The baker motions Raun toward the back of the room, where helps the half-giant shift an old mill-stone out of the way, exposing a brick-lined shaft leading down into darkness.
"The shaft drops 20 feet or so, then opens into an old chamber - never was sure what it was exactly, maybe a cellar or storeroom back when Tyr sat a few layers lower. From there an old stairway cuts through the stone, opening up into a series of old catacombs after a few turns. The catacombs wind a bit, but a left and then a couple of rights will get you into a large chamber that reeks of death - it's the bottom of a carrion pit leading from the chambers below the arena. Cross that chamber and exit to the south, if you can keep your bearings. You'll be looking for an old sewer channel, with an aqueduct above. Cross a stone platform and a concealed panel will let you into a storeroom with a stair that leads up to the rooms below the arena."
The baker runs a hand over his close-cropped scalp.
"I'll be honest with you, I haven't opened up that tunnel for half a year. The last three men who went down never came up, but Krysta has been a friend for a long time, so I'll let you take your own risks. I'll not be leaving that hole open long, though - be back by dawn or you'll have to find another way out of the depths."
After fashioning a sling for Grit's tigone, the party drops a torch down the shaft and begins to descend. It's an uncomfortable squeeze for Raun, and circumstances don't improve much for the half-giant - although the chamber at the bottom of the shaft offers room enough, the stairway leading to the catacombs is narrow, sized for humans and their kind. Growling, the hunched half-giant follows Grit down the stairs to the catacombs, which are nearly as cramped.
Sand covers the floor as you reach the bottom of the stairs and turn the corner into the catacombs. The stone walls are ancient, the plaster that once covered them blackened with age or fire. The low tunnel extends south, if your sense of direction is true, before making the left turn the baker described. Short side tunnels lined with burial alcoves line the path on either side, any bones they once contained long turned to dust.
Drawing out the talisman crafted by the alliance, Grit allows it to hang free, the three black feathers twirling. After a moment, the gnarled finger at the end of the cord rises in the air, straining toward the southeast. Level, the finger clearly points toward a target on this level.
Turning the corner, Grit shines his enchanted stone down the hallway leading east. Side passages split to the north and south, and what looks like a stone door can be seen far to the east.
Daina looks pretty jumpy, not only for being in a small area but that she's trapped in such a small area with Raun. She scratches Anar's feathers reassuringly, then looks into the little side rooms for anything of interest.
Grit casts some buff spells on h his Tigon (Frostbite and Greater Magic Fang) Before proceeding. Moving slowly Grit will maintain Detect Magic as he moves forward. [b]We handle the clone first if possible, then the Templar. [/b[ he says before moving to the Southeast as best he can. He will pause and look down the tunnel to the SW for a moment, wondering about it, before advancing.
Raun's grumblings start after only a few minutes of cramped passageways and don't seem likely to stop any time soon. She is forced to drag her pack behind her and the shortsword which she kept for just such emergencies seems flimsy and inadequate in her hands. She glowers at Grit's back as they stop yet again, their progress agonizingly slow for the half-giant. "What problem?" she asks grumpily.
"So the thing points directly to the goal but doesn't give us the fastest route to it... Wonderful." Gorkhan moves with the others, his sword out and ready.
The fastest round is through the stones. Alas, we must find a way around. Grit says with a smile, thinking that soon he will be able to take the form of an earth elemental and glide through the stones if he wishes.
That's strange, Däina thought to herself as she peered into the second barrow nook on her right. There's dust and sand everywhere, but it's all been swept out of the end of this side passage, where you'd think it would have piled up.
Stepping in for a closer look, the half-elf noticed that the burial nook on the end was noticeably shallower than the others. On a hunch, she reached forward, pushing on the stone wall behind the burial shelf. Grating on the sandy floor, it swings back easily, letting out a gust of air thick with bone dust. Glancing back, she saw that most of the group had passed on, although Safia was just around the corner.
To the east, Grit and his tigone moved on down the corridor, which seemed to carry on into passages far from the group's goal - the talisman was pointing southwest now. Turning back, a swirl of sand on the floor caught his eye. Why would there be a draft so close to the floor? Nudging around, he found the stones near the bottom of the wall lacked any mortar, leaving a gap between the wall and floor. A little more poking and a hard shove caused an entire section of the wall to revolve, revealing an even narrower passage with rough stone steps leading farther down and generally south.
Moving up to a position in the middle of the clutch, Nnn'tkklik'l tried to keep an eye on Raun, whose frustration was growing with each minute. As the thri-kreen passed a crumbling passage leading to older catacombs to the southwest, his antennae caught a faint vibration. Movement, although of prey or predator the thri-kreen was certain. And fainter still, a strange, high-pitched jangle ... a bell?
"Umm, hey guys?" Daina points sheepishly to the secret passage she discovered.
Noting the secret passage, but also noting that it did not lead to the southwest Grit closes it, if possible, and turns back, noting unhappily that the group has gotten too strung out. He heads back toward Nnn gathering Raun as he backtracks to see what was delaying the group.
As Grit heads back toward the rest of the group, he notes that the preserved finger appears to be pointing due south of a point between Raun and Nnn'tkklik'l, about even with or a little bit below your current elevation.
<<we are not alone>>
Gorkhan frowns and concentrates, causing his clothes and skin to blend in with the background as he moves into position, hiding beside the opening near the thri-kreen.
With Nnn's mental warning Grit quickly casts his Barkskin spell on himself.
Heeding Nnn'tkklik'l's mental warning, the group gathers near the thri-kreen and the southwestern passage. The group falls silent after Grit's whispered incantation, each member straining to pick up the sound of nearby movement as bone dust floats through the stale air.
Uncharacteristically still, Raun hears the faintest swish - feet in the sand? Robes brushing against a wall? - from the southwest passage, accompanied by the tinkle of a bell.
Grit, meanwhile, hears a faint click. Turning, he sees that the secret door he found a moment earlier has swung open, the heavy stone panel concealing the shadowed passage to the east.
<<company to the East.>> Grit thinks to the group.
Raun growls inside their heads. She grips her sword even tighter, but unless the others move out of her way first she can't advance. If they do then she will prowl her way down the narrow passage.
As the others move aside, Raun begins inching down the southwest corridor, which is more a tunnel dug through the ancient brick of the catacombs. If anything, it's even narrower than the burial hall, and half-giant's anger grows.
A grumble dies in Raun's throat as the gently sloping tunnel begins to curve. A figure stands in the corridor, concealed in a dirty gray cloak stained a muddy red in places.
"Come," the figure says, holding out a gnarled, white-skinned hand. A bell hanging from the figure's claw-tipped finger chimes softly.
Complacency settles over the half-giant like a collar. Inside, part of Raun rages against the control, so like the compliance forced on her by her old master, but she is unable to resist.
Around the corner, a tinkling sound catches Däina's attention. She turns to see a tattered figure emerge from the secret passage to the north.
"Come," the pale, robed figure says, extending a crooked talon from which a small copper bell dangles.
For a moment, Däina's legs jerk as someone else seems to be pulling strings attached to her joints. Her natural defenses assert themselves quickly, however, severing the mental control.
In your minds Grit seems to almost scream <<Something has re-opend a secret door to the East of us. We have company on all sides and something is wrong with Raun! She is under mental assault or worse. Help her if you can!>>
Daina steps back as she shatters the mental chains.
You think the robed figures might be belgoi, cannibalistic humanoids known to waylay travelers using psionic mind control. They often use bells to augment their powers.
You think the robed figures might be belgoi, cannibalistic humanoids known to waylay travelers using their powerful telepathic abilities. They often use bells to augment their powers.
In addition to their mental powers, belgoi can drain a victim's strength with their claws.
"Those are belgoi, they're man-eaters with strong telepathy! They use their bells for power and can drain you strength with their claws!"
<<i cannot shield mind or return control to Raun. will try to blind.>>
Nnn will close its eyes and manifest Sense Link on Raun, with Raun being a willing target by virtue of being in the collective. Nnn will spend 3 PP in total to augment the power, so instead of Nnn seeing what Raun sees, Raun will see what Nnn sees (nothing, since Nnn's eyes are now closed). If DM ruling agrees, both Nnn and Raun should be blinded.