Quentin peeked into the doorway. Inside, he found a marvel of a hallway- walls lined with more brilliant metals, fine circuitry, and other manner of unknown electronic components.The hallway goes down about 50 feet before ending at a fork.
"Keth," Valai says as she peers down the hallway. "Would you care to let us know which direction might lead us to our exit from this rather charmless world the faster?"
"Maybe don't follow too close. If there's a trap down here we shouldn't all get caught in it."
"I-I really wouldn't know, Lady Valai." His voice sounded somewhat ashamed.
Entaro will follow close behind. "So, which way do we go?"
Booker will follow with the group, keeping an eye out for wandering robots.
"There is a bias to the left path being the sinister," Valai says with a brief, mocking smile. "Let us see what the right way has to offer first, shall we?"
The group took the right hallway. After another turn, the found a small room on the side. Peeking in, they found a room that seem to contain some kind electronic painting. The painting was composed of electronic components and would move from a multitude of images, showing different scenes.
The first scene showed some unknown planet. The second scene displayed an unknown race of creatures. The creatures appeared to be a mix between human and construct. They had the body of a metallic humanoid automaton- long slender metal legs and arms, a thin torso and a human-like face. The creatures were constructing some kind of vehicle or transport. The next scene was this vehicle traveling the stars, followed by a scene of it landing on a planet that appeared to be Aballon. Lastly, the creatures were showing doing a multitude of activities including exploring, excavating, and creating small constructs.
The room also contained a runic language that covered the walls.
"Valai. I don't know much about art, but could these be history thingies? Because otherwise, I'm surprised at the imaginations of the Abalwhatsits."
"Can't be real history. We'd have noticed a race of metal people hanging around."
"I don't like the look of them one bit. Where'd they get them faces from? Prolly stole em. My face is too pretty to steal."
"Damned right it is, Booker," Celia concluded, now tracing her fingers over a few runes at her level.
"I wonder if this would be a good room to sleep in."
"My dear companions," Valai says, her voice toneless as she studies the runes. "Have none of you considered that these creatures might have come by their faces honestly, and decided to replace weak, fleshy limbs with metallic ones that they could design for their own purposes?
Now, unless I miss my guess, this is indeed a history. It may well be the history of the First Ones, travelling from who-knows-where to Aballon in this... vessel. I wonder if they left another one parked down here..."
"Tch," Valai says, clearly annoyed. "I can not make heads or tails of these... scribbles. Keth. Are you capable of translating the runes, or of verifying whether a ship such as the one depicted on the wall is present hereabouts?"
Booker squints at Celia for a moment. "Well, you too missy."
He turns to Valai. "Why would they wanna run around cuttin' their arms off for? 'Sides, I don't think I wanna risk it. I think most of us'd be better off keepin' our faces. Hell, as expressive as you are, you might just be a face-stealin' machine too."
He edges away from her.
Keth took a few minutes to scan and analyze the writing.
"It appears these writings detail the images that we can see here. It states they created a new means to travel the stars on their home planet and eventually found Aballon. Once here, they used the resources available to create the first few generations of Aballonians."
Keth continued scanning for a moment.
"They have signed this writing as beings from the planet Keth'Al- the Kethans."
Keth appeared at a loss for words.
"Okay, first off, Booker, we've been with Valai this entire time, and secondly, Keth! THAT'S WEIRD! What does it mean?!"
Celia paces backward and forwards, calling into court her average mental faculties. Not much comes of it.
"That make you like a baby one o' them? You gonna start stealin faces too?"
"I don't know. It could-" Keth seemed obviously confused.
"My my, Keth, that sure do be a coincidence. Maybe they got better at makin' skin suits and our mysterious kidnapper is one of 'em, too. Let's move on. History ain't gettin' us home any faster."
Marshall leaves the room and continues south down the hallway.
Quentin explored further down the hallway. He quickly concluded both of the initial hallways met here, in front of a doorway.
Booker turns to Valai. "Why would they wanna run around cuttin' their arms off for? 'Sides, I don't think I wanna risk it. I think most of us'd be better off keepin' our faces. Hell, as expressive as you are, you might just be a face-stealin' machine too."
He edges away from her.
Valai gives Booker a cool, even gaze. "Flesh and bone," she says, "fail. They can not exert the same strength and precision as the finest tools crafted by the mind and skill of masters. Age wears them down, rendering them flawed and unable to perform as the mind bids them."
"Okay, first off, Booker, we've been with Valai this entire time, and secondly, Keth! THAT'S WEIRD! What does it mean?!"
Valai bestows a mirthless smile on Celia. "My dear, all that you know is that I was with you when you were conjured onto that disc on the sun's surface. You have only my word that I was on Golarion before then."
The Elfmaid holds up her hand to stall more funny remarks. "As matters stand, I truly am a flesh-and-blood Elf. As soon as we are somewhere with breathable air, I shall be happy to prove it by taking off this suit. However, I can see the appeal in being able to replace limbs that are failing. Or even to have specific, replaceable limbs for different circumstances. Very efficient."
Valai raises an eyebrow at Keth. "Perhaps your mystery master abducted you from your people and enslaved you. Or is it possible that he simply named you in honour of the Kethans. Or the similarity of sound may be purely coincidental."
Valai shrugs and follows after Marshall.
Marshall continues down the hallway and peeks into the next room.
Quentin took a look inside the new room and found some more artwork. The walls were lined with images of Kethans, all in a similar pose, standing proud in their depictions. In the center of the room was a large staircase, heading downwards.
Celia bites her lower lip at Valai's insincere chuckling and tries very hard to listen to the following exposition.As William markedly trots after his master, the gnome makes an unreadable expression for a moment.
"Well, looks like we're moving out." she says with a wry grin, shooting wide-eyed and well-meaning glances to Keth, Entaro, Boodka, and Booker. With that, she runs after Quentin and Valai.
"Home? I thought we was headin' to find that old elf."
Booker follows after Celia and continues until he gets up to Quentin. He pats Celia on the shoulder when he reaches her and mutters "Yeah, I don't get it neither. Still think she might be one of them; she ain't proved nothin yet." He gets a terrible brainwave and his face visibly morphs from consternation into dawning realization and quickly into a big grin directed at Valai as he sidles up to her. "We can start with the suit and see where it goes fro--" He cuts himself off as the cold, steely grip of logic catches up to his line of thinking. He gives her some space and continues on, having weirded himself out.
Booker's social blunder was grand enough that Celia winced in his stead.
"You really do remind me of an old friend, Booker." she laughs to herself, bringing back to mind some of the times Benkei had managed to anger their captain with remarks of the same vein... and the rescues she had to mount afterwards.
"He reminds me of old acquaintances of mine, as well," Valai notes, glancing back at Celia. "Some of my fellow students were... less than serious about their studies." She sniffs.
"Hey now, I may not be the sharpest fish in the barrel, but that don't mean I ain't serious."
He pokes his head into the new room, looks around for any immediate danger, and if failing to find any strolls on in.
"Any of you art critics want to look around here or can we take these stairs?"
Marshall looks down the staircase in case of danger.
Valai mutters the Word she has used before again, and looks around.
Booker glances around for any signs that this area has been used or travelled by anything else recently.
"There are no magical auras here," Valai says. "So that at least means no magical traps."
"No, but it does look like somethin's been 'round here. See them scuff marks there, and that little trail of...whatever that is. Hard tellin'. Anyway, I think we should go, uh, introduce ourselves."
"Alright, Book. Down we go.
Marshall leads the way down the stairs when the group is prepared.
They proceeded down the staircase, which narrowed slightly on the way down. The stairway opened into a large rectangular chamber. The stone walls of this area were covered with intricate carvings of Kethans toiling for resources and crafting different objects and machines. In the center of the chamber stood the bottom half of a broken obsidian obelisk. Crude picks, hammers, and other tools were scattered around the chamber. There were three exits- one on either side and one to the south.
"Now, now... what do we have here?" Celia asked, staring at the obelisk.
"Guys, on a scale of one to ten, ten being homicidal rage, how angry would you be if I touched that thing?"
"Let me scan it first," Valai suggests, subjecting the obelisk and the room it stands in to her magic-enhanced vision as she slowly walks around it. "And if you have the orison, I would suggest scanning it for poisonous qualities."
"One, two at the most. To be honest, I'm getting a bit fatalistic about this whole thing. We're a bazillion leagues from anything we know, and not by choice. We can't control anything. Do what seems right. Or fun. Or whatever."
"Lady Valai, if I may? I have already taken the time to scan the object. While it does not appear harmful in any way, it does have various mechanical and technological components. Scans have yet to determine exactly the nature of these, but there is one matter of interest. The nanites that power the majority of the functions in your suits are reacting to the presence of this object. They seem to be completing their functions seventy-four percent more quickly than normal."
Valai freezes for a moment. "Does that mean these suits are doing better, or that they are wearing out more quickly?" she asks, a rare note of urgency in her voice.
"They appear to be doing better. Maintence routines are being handled in a prompt manner."
"Ah. A shame that this obelisk is not portable, then," Valai says. "Hmm. Interesting, that such a useful device should be surrounded by a field that prevents the Aballonians from approaching, unles... some other technological being wanted to limit access to its benefits."