Túrion raises an eyebrow: "A few glyphs? I think you underestimate the effort...you will have to unravel serious parts of the web and re-knit them so that the whole field does not collapse attempting to change key elements...I can see the merit of the idea, but it will be a difficult task. If you do feel up to it, I'll do what I can to support you, but I'm afraid I have few means of doing so."
"Well, if we're doing this, the time is now," Melia says. "I assume we have to be in the area of the trap to fiddle with it. But that should be easy since it extends all the way out to the garden wall. So let's follow Turick's men, and when they move in we can just casually stroll into the garden and make the attempt."
As Hal begins the intricate process, Melia stands ready to hand, passing him tools and arcane implements as necessary. Here that, Mel? she thinks. Together, we've got this.
Kazador watched as Hal began his process with Melia at his side. It was odd to watch. He knew some magic, that was true. But his magic was that of his people, and he knew how to use it, not the mechanics behind it. It became quickly apparent to him that he was out of his element. So instead, he stood to the side and did what little he could. Taking his hammer, he carefully traced his own rune on the ground. It was a complicated matter, and doing so took all of his concentration. As his hammer traced the lines they softly glowed, until a full rune was formed. In almost a whisper he said "Gang Azgal." A rough translation in common meant "To find the great hoard or treasure." The effect of the rune, though, was that it increased the fortune of all within it, gently guiding their hands, words and deeds in the right direction to achieve their ends, while at the same time doing the opposite to their enemies. It was in this way that he leant what aid that he could to his companions.
Turick's men and some city guard get into position for the raid and your group sneaks up to the house's wall to perform the sabotagage. Mel and Kazador help guide the process.
"Actual physical manipulation of a persistent weave effect. This is absolutely insane and the kind of stuff that would get you thrown out of any arcane academy. I love it.", Túrion notes when Hal explains his intent to use physical legerdemain to alter the Teleport Trap.
"I'll do my best to be your eyes, and stabilize the flow, but while I find the concept fascinating, I'm afraid my lack of experience with that kind of alteration would endanger the undertaking if I were to meddle, too."
He cracks his knuckles, imitating the gesture from some humans in the city, and continues:"I do have one or two ideas on how I'll be able to help, though. Lets hope they work."
"Your help will be invaluable, I'm sure."
"In that case can someone please requisition a carriage to get us close - I am going to need to take a fascinating theoretical approach and render it practical in a very short span of time."
The Don then immediately requisitions a nearby table and starts pulling books, flasks, and tools out in a mad rush. "Very well my friend" he says to Turion "What are you thinking?"
Still desperately trying to eke out a few last seconds of research as the party comes within a hundred feet of the wall, the Don finally gives up and throws several books into a bag far too small to hold them.
"Here goes then." With a grimace he takes the first flask, and throws down his cloak to reveal a very skinny body clad only in pants and charcoal runes. Immediately he starts using the quicksilver in the flask as paint to trace the runes - indicating for the others to help. "Make sure you wipe your fingers after. This is an old shaman's trick from a boggart tribe, but most of their shamans go mad after they try it due to the poison. Nothing beats the arcane conductivity of quicksilver, however."
As he traces the Don incants in one language after another, calling upon names unknown to aid his luck - till he calls on the Norns themselves.
Finally done he rubs his fingers quickly on his pants and pulls out another flask, an eyedropper this time, and carefully puts a drop in each eye - his withered old body tensing with pain under the runes, which flash quickly with magenta power.
"Right." he says, in a voice that rasps from the power he has channeled through it. The Don's accent slips as he talks. "Prep done. T' the wall. S'do'this."
Carefully, squinting as if against the sun in the dark of the night, he makes his way the few short yards to the wall where Kazador has prepared his rune.
With a few muttered words the dark shadow at the corner of the garden on the other side of the fence darkens further, dark tendrils hiding among the vines and greenery, lit by the eerie magenta pulse from the quicksilver runes.
From somewhere he then pulls a signature of pages hastily glued together to form a single massive sheet, scribed with spells in a multitude of coloured inks - predominantly brown - and two different hands. The sheet is held against the wall, and yet another spell causes the magenta runes on the Don's skin to flare as he forces the intricate writing from the pages to the wall using a spell only supposed to make copying old tomes easier. The paper - now blank - is discarded.
With a final grunt he slaps his hands to either side of the runework, and the flickering quicksilver runes light up with magenta light as Hal - for there is no trace of the Don now - channels every ounce of his gift into forcing his changes into the wardwork laid down inside the garden wall by the wizard who set them.
"Not sure... how long... I can hold it." he says through gritted teeth. Blood drips from his nose, flickering with magenta light and sizzling when it hits the ground. "Hope they don't **** around."
1. Memorise Aram Zay's focus (2nd level spell, use blank 5th slot) and Bit of Luck (4th level spell). Should be 15 minutes.
2. Cast full's pouch to pull out shaman's paint (CL11)
3. Wear shaman's paint. Clock is then ticking as it is 1 wis damage per minute, and this is not exactly his best stat. Gives +2 alchemical bonus to CL
4. Cast Bit of Luck with focussed spell for +4 CL (14) Paint adds +2 CL (17). On alchemist list for +1 CL. This lets him cast above CL 16, and can burn the whole effect for +3d8 Luck.
5. Cast Aram Zey's Focus, which gives the trapfind of a level 5 rogue, which is +2 Untyped to DD. Caster level is irrelevant, but will be 14.
6. Use SS to burn Glitterdust and Tears to Wine and cast Bestow Insight on self. Base is Cl 12. +2 insight + 1 per 4 CL +5 insight, and a roll twice, take the best.
7. Cast Black Tentacles (as a trap) CL 12 with Stylized Spontaneity to make them hard to see.
8. Make the roll to disable device => assume +2 aid from Turion.
Turion is able to find the part of the spell that hinges on the password and that the teleport trap deposits one somewhere well below Cust Manor. From there and the assistance of Mel and Kazador, Hal is able to temporarily override and scramble the password. Minutes later, royal troops overwhelm Cust Manor, shouting orders to stand down.
There is no sign of Baron Cust but you do see a well-dressed man slip through Turick's net about 60 ft to your west. He starts sprinting down an alley and gets around the corner just as you notice him...
Hal stays braced against the wall, desperately keeping the magic warped to their advantage.
"I think that's him," Melia says. "Let's not let him get away!"
She taps her heels together, feeling the familiar rush of speed. She dashes forward, rounding the corner he vanished behind, lifts her bow and sends a single shot after the fleeing man.
nonlethal
Túrion was just about to speak up when Melia starts rushing towards the man. Looking up at the sky above, he then suddenly vanishes.
Only to reappear a few 100 feet above the ground, where he immediately begins a slow descent attempting to maneuver above the escapee.
Whoever this fellow is, he only came into view once outside the wall and sprinting.
It's a reasonable inference that he employed some cheap, very short term invisibility. Perhaps the vanish spell.
Mel gets into the alley and fires an arrow that SMACKS the running man on the back of the head.
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Kazador let Turion's magic take hold of him. He trusted the elf with his life, which was evidenced by appearing so high into the air. It would be a simple thing to let him fall to his doom. The very fact that Kazador so easily accepted the plan was proof of the camaraderie built through their travels. He began his descent, ready to fall upon the fleeing man once able.
Kazador manipulates his rate of fall to try to fall a tiny bit faster and more towards the suspect. The suspect, smacked by an arrow, runs faster and around another corner!
Flying was not something that Kazador really enjoyed. It felt unnatural. But he made the best out of the situation, shooting down like a bearded meteror. Coming around the corner, he caught up with the fleeing man. "Halt." He growled. "There is nay reason for ye to die this day. Running will just make this hurt."
"Paska," Melia mutters, then taps her heels together and sprints after him. Rounding the corner she finds Kazador confronting the man. How'd he get here so fast? she wonders. Oh well, I'm glad to have backup anyway.
"It's over, my lord Baron," she says gently. "You can come quietly, with the dignity that befits your station, or we can bring you in unconscious and slung over my friend's shoulders like a sack of potatoes."
The strange man looks confused when Melia calls him "Baron".
The man's appearance matches the description of Baron Cust's secretary.
Penned in, the man throws his hands up at the look of Kazador and Melia. "Alright, alright! Don't bash my skull!"
"Wait a second," Melia says. "You're not Baron Cust! You're his secretary!"
You secure the secretary(?) without any more resistance and find a spent scroll of vanish in his pocket, its magic gone.
As they walk back to the house, Melia glances pityingly at the man. "You know," she says, "It's Baron Cust we're after, mainly. Help us get at him, and I'll happily put in a good word for you with the law. I'm not in a position to promise you leniency, but cooperation would be a mark in your favor."
"Oh, and it's worth noting that Cust didn't teleport away. Thanks to our supremely skilled mage, we turned his teleportation defenses against him. If he tried to teleport out, he and anyone he tried to take with him are now languishing in his own teleport trap."
- Did he try to teleport out?
- Where does Cust's teleport trap put those who don't know the password?
- How do we gain access to that place?
- Who did he take with him, if anyone?
- How were they armed?
- What other traps or defenses would get in the way of reaching him?
The man raises an eyebrow towards Melia.
He seems surprised and impressed that the teleportation defenses were sabotaged but is less impressed by Melia's average effort at persuasion.
She raises her eyebrows back at him.
"That is not our mark.", Túrion comments after rounding the corner and seeing the man. Noting Melia's desperate Eyebrow-raise, he follows up swiftly: "Is he useful, or can I harvest his soul as payment for the contract with our...assistant?"
The supposed secretary blanches when Turion comes into view and makes this casual statement regarding soul transactions. "Wait, wait! I AM useful! I've helped the baron check is teleport trap before. I can lead you to it. And many other secrets, including a stash of gems!" His mind is clearly scrambling. "And another of paintings!"
It's Túrions turn to raise an eyebrow, as he glances at Mel and Kazador for confirmation:"That may do. If you attempt to betray us, your existance is forfeit. If you assist us, I promise to refrain from using you as currency in any kind of transaction. What we report to the king, however, will depend on both eagerness and completeness of your assistance. Now lead the way. Trap first, stashes after - as well as anything else you remember on the way that may increase your usefulness further. If you hesitate too long, waste our time, or attempt to trick us, I will assume you decided not to be useful any longer."
Túrion steps aside to make way for the secretary.
Melia gestures him forward.
Some of Turick's men keep watch outside the raided Cust manor, full of activity inside the walls, call for you to halt. "Why are you bringing a prisoner here! State your business!" challenges a stout captain.
Turick, however, sees you and moves toward you with several of his guards. After you confirm your identities for him, he asks "So what have you caught?"
"The Baron's secretary, milord. He slipped past your men using some invisibility magic, from a scroll. We believe he can take us straight to Baron Cust."
She coughs delicately. "Ah, it seems there was a flaw in the good Baron's teleportation wards. The good Don was able to alter them such that if Cust tried to flee via teleportation, he would wind up stuck in his own trap. We believe that's where we'll find him, along with anyone he tried to take with him."
Elsewhere on the borders of the estate Hal looks on as his summoned invisible grasping tentacles return to their own cursed plane.
"****" he says quitely.
The viscount looks quite impressed with Hal's abilities and gives him a solemn bow. "Very impressive. Perhaps I should invite you to inspect my own estate for security weakneses, more than you already have." He shakes his head chuckling. "Vincent still has nightmares from your last visit." Then he grows a touch more serious. "And I may be lengthening my list of enemies."
Then he steps out of your way. Speaking of which, lead us to the Baron."
"You heard His Grace," Melia says to the captured secretary, gesturing him towards the door of the estate. "And you'd best inform us of any traps or defenses you know about as we go."
"Oh, I'm reasonably certain he will.", Túrion speaks up, his gaze focused on the secretary, then takes a moment to address the Viscount:
"He is under no magical compulsion. He is collaborating out of free will - and admittedly a desire to survive. Regardless, if he proves himself useful enough, I'd assume some witness status could be arranged that would deflect any charges of high treason?"
The Viscount is nobody's fool and nods ambiguously. "Yes it is very likely that such an arrangement could be made, should the aspiring Crown's witness prove sufficiently valuable."
The secretary nods and leads you inside and into the basement. He points to the false wall containing the paintings and says "I believe the Baron keeps something of importance in there. I am unsure what as I am not supposed to know about that room." Then he shows you a secret trapdoor on the other side of the basement. A ladder leads down some thirty feet. "The Baron had me check down here from time to time. This is where his teleportation defenses redirect."
The viscount seems entirely unsurprised that the teleportation defenses redirect into a nasty little oubliette such as this. It is standard practice among powerful nobles.
Melia nods. "The rest of the Lake family's art collection is in there," she tells Turick, gesturing of the first door. "There was a particularly nasty disintegration trap on the door during our initial foray. We disabled it, but we should check it again before opening it in case it resets."
"What else is down there?" she asks the secretary, regarding the oubliette. "It wouldn't be much of a trap if people could just climb out."
The secretary nods. "Oh yes but a rather simple one. The Baron is obsessed with keeping his prisoners for interrogation. The trap shunts into an adamantine cage with an unpickable lock in an area where magic will not function."
The Don stumbles onwards, barely visible as the distinguished academic of an hour ago. Smears of quicksilver, charcoal, and blood remain from the ritual, and his clothes somehow seem to have aged decades in minutes. Tear-tracks cut down through angular features into a now-black beard.
Still, despite that, behind his spectacles his eyes seem bright enough.
"No lock is unpickable." he observes in a rough voice "But if the Baron has the key it may not matter. We should send someone down who doesn't rely on magic, my lord, and soon."
The Viscount looks to you and points at Kazador "What about you, Master Dwarf? You seem sturdy enough, though in truth I know very little about you."
If Kazador volunteers, Túrion touches the Dwarfs shoulder, making him vanish from sight.
"It won't cover the sound you're making, but all the same it will make it easier to take a look and report back, or secure the area and call us in. Take care, if you assail someone the spell will disperse..."
Kazador shrugged. "Not much worth knowing." He muttered. "Aye. Cast the spell, I'll go in." There were many things he had done in his life that would be considered dangerous. Walking into a known trap was certainly one of them, but there was little other choice.
You head down the ladder, into the darkness. With your dwarven eyes, you can make out your environs in shades of black and white. At the bottom of the ladder, some twenty feet down, you see a large cage of thick bars. The gaps between the bars are only a few inches across. The lock to the cage sticks out some five feet from the side of the cage and has a tiny keyhole, keeping the keyhole well out of arms reach of an intruder. Behind the cage, there is some arrangement of thin cords stretched at all angles between the ceiling and floor. Further, your dwarven eyes note that the stone wall behind the cords is actually a large, movable slab.
Inside the cage huddles a man in noble's clothes.
"Oi there." Kazador said, as he walked towards the huddling nobleman. "Ye name, ye purpose, and a question from me. Be ye needing help to get out?" He said in as even a voice as he could manage.
The nobleman looks up, surprised, and can't see where the voice is coming from until Kazador gets very close to the cage and the invisibility spell is suppressed. "Good master dwarf! I am Baron Aldern. I was teleporting into Bannerhold on urgent business for the crown when I was waylaid by this trap! There must be some misfortune as the embassy I was supposed to teleport to is open for teleportation. If you could assist me, I can promise you compensation and, better, favor with the Crown of Iustia!"
The nobleman matches the description of Baron Cust, your target.
Kazador nodded. ”Oh? I see. Well sit tight.” He called up to the group. ”Magic be cancelled down here! Got a nobleman down here, says he is Baron Aldern. Could use a lock picker.”
"Don Haroldson?" Melia asks, glancing at him. "I would go, but I'm just not that good at locks. Pretty sure anything described as 'unpickable' is well beyond me."
Sorry, father, she adds, internally. When I get ho ... the next time we see one another, I'm going to ask you to sit down and teach me all about locks.
"Just the one, yes?", Túrion inquires of Kazador, then also makes his way downstairs.
It seemed unlikely that they would get some other Baron by chance. But regardless, it seemed sensible to figure things out before the man was released.
The man in the cage exclaims "Ah wonderful! More help!"
"Ah, most unfortunate, that fate. Alas, I seem to have misplaced my key. An expert for locks will be with us shortly. While we wait, do tell, what brings you here? And what news do you bring?"
Túrion was certain the man was Cust. But all the same, if he wanted to keep up the charade, Túrion was more than happy to play along and give the man a false sense of safety.
Albeit at this point he was unsure if the dungeon design was so standard that Cust had not noticed he landed in his own trap.
The Don - dishevelled and worn - looks troubled. After a pause he continues.
"Who would have thought those rebellious student years sneaking in to the dorm before morning bell would prove so critical to the kingdom? I'll certainly give it a go while we wait for a professional. If I am to draw on my old memories, I should perhaps drink a flask or two..." he looks down at himself "Actually, this is probably sufficient. Fortunate that my Message spells require a supply of various wires."
Without another word he descends.
The Don moves down and it isn't hard to tell, from Kazador moving backward and forward, that the antimagic field suppresses his invisibility spell but that it turns back on when the Dwarven warrior re-emerges from the field.
The protruding, accessible part of the lock is inside the antimagic field.
"I can see it." the Don calls out, and nods to Kazador, Turion, and the prisoner.
With a sigh he walks up to the edge of the field, looks over his glasses, and walks the field periphery looking carefully.
As he walks he calls out to the others - and the prisoner "Has anyone spotted any traps or mechanisms? Enchantments other than the suppress?"