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“I have no love of puns,” announces a peeved Kreighton Shaine, the Master of Scrolls in the Grand Lodge, “Yet it cannot go unremarked that the Overflow Archives have begun living up to their name.” The pale elf gestures across the library’s stone lobby toward a pair of shut double doors from beneath which water steadily seeps. He is only one of the midnight visitors bearing witness to this disaster. Next to Shaine, Paracountess Zarta Dralneen stands with folded arms, glaring at an initiate whose hair and clothes are utterly drenched. All three speak at once, but Shaine’s shrill voice rises above the din. “Magical shenanigans in the archives are prohibited, especially this soon before the Grand Convocation!”
“Let us prioritize,” Dralneen suggests. “Are the artifacts within the vaults in danger?”
“How should I know?” Shaine barks back. “This delinquent initiate—what was the name? Wormell?”
“Virml, sir,” replies the sodden Pathfinder.
“Virml says he sneaked into the archives on a dare,” summarizes Shaine, painfully emphasizing the initiate’s name with scolding disdain. “Presumably, he thought the holdings would be harmless. Instead, in his naivete, Virml triggered some dormant curse or other. So, yes, thanks to Virml here, the archives and the vaults below continue to flood, threatening all the books therein.”
Miserably, Virml holds up an armload of soggy manuscripts. “I salvaged a few, sir.”
Sighing, Shaine leads Virml towards the stairs. “Take them up to the scriptorium. Start making dry copies.” Then, turning to survey the rest of the room, he continues issuing orders. “The remainder of you should wade in there and plumb the origins of this deluge. Stop it, if you can. I must report this debacle to my colleagues and begin organizing the cleanup.”[/b] Abruptly, he seems to notice the paracountess for the first time. “What are you doing here, Dralneen?”
Zarta smirks and shrugs. “Unlike you, Shaine, I love a good pun.”
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"So do you have any clue on what kind of magic is at work here?"
Balooo is a rather large hirsute Ulfen with dark hair. His hands look rough and calloused. He is wearing a simple yet well made shirt made of mithral that barely covers his massive chest. On his back is a sword made of a black metal and a bow, both seem almost brand new and hardly used.
"Unclear", Shaine reports. “Our delinquent initiate here is vague on the details. But clearly, some unclassified item in there must have borne a well-concealed curse.”
Virml sheepishly relates, “I…I merely picked up a wee scroll, read part of it aloud for fun— some kind of riddle about birds and fish? And then it flew to bits in my hand, and I caught the quickest glimpse of a handsome man…and then ker-sploosh! I washed out here!”
"I didn't use it. I don't even know how to use magic scrolls."
Virml describes the basic details of the man's appearance.
"Please do", Kreighton Shaine answers. "The sooner the flooding's dealt with the sooner we can start the clean up."
When the party departs, Zarta pulls Natula aside for a quick private chat.
She shrugs and smiles before continuing. “That said, I know that there is more than junk beyond those doors. I’ve heard that someone squirreled away a copy of The Darklands Precepts somewhere in there, and it’s far too dangerous a tome to leave lying about. Get it out of there and return it to me, no matter what excuse Shaine might make to toss it back in the pile.”
Exiting the lobby, the party enters the Stacks.
This spacious section of the library is a damp catastrophe. A lake of dark water clogged with books, scroll cases, and a few overturned shelves obscures the floor. Steps descend into the brine from the western doors, while at the east end of the room a spiral staircase rises from the water to a mezzanine above. Periodically, a cascade of water spurts down the spiral staircase. The same metal staircase must descend into a basement below as well, for the water there burbles downward in a dark, lazy whirlpool.
Seated on a makeshift raft are a pair of small humanoid creatures with wings seemingly made from leaves. One has the head of an owl while the other resembles an albatross. They each hold fishing poles in their hands but appear to be involved in a tense argument.
"I fished it out of the water!" the owl chirps.
"But that was my patch of water. You stole it from me!" the albatross says bitterly.
"I suppose I've got something like that laying around. Just a moment", Shaine says as he rummages through a stack of scrolls. "Ah, this should be it. Of course it won't reflect whatever damage has been done by the water."
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"Oh, oh, oh! Excuse me! Sorry! Dear me, Gregarious, I believe we're late!" squeaks a small voice coming from atop a large, fluffy dog which trots happily up to the rest of the group, tail wagging in greeting. The gnome (for such she is) pats the dog fondly on the head and smiles sheepishly at the rest of the group. "So sorry! We ended up at the wrong place, you see... I'm certain the messenger told me I was to meet you all at the Oh Verflower Kives, and so we (that's Gregarious and I) wandered all around looking for such a place before I thought to myself, I thought, I wonder if there's really a place called that? And after I thought that, you see, I began to suspect that there was not in fact a place called that, and then I remembered that just recently I saw this place on a Society map I was studying to go along with a book I'm reading called The Long Way To Skorn Laroosh, about..." the gnome trails off, hesitating, as the big dog bumps his head into her leg... again. "It's very interesting!" she finishes with a smile.
After a moment, she turns to study the two bird-like creatures with a thoughtful expression. "Hello there!" she offers in a friendly tone. Turning her head ever so slightly to frown at the scary Pathfinder. "You mustn't be mean to strangers," she adjures. "Didn't your mother ever tell you that? Didn't she ever warn you about what happened to Harry the Halfling Hierophant? You should apologize!"
The birdmen look to each other in surprise at the party's arrival and the wizard's harsh tone. They immediately stop bickering with each other.
"We're not cleanin' we're fishin'", the owl explains. "This is the bestest fishin' spot!"
The albatross nods fervently in agreement with Zirt's chiding. "She's right you know. You should apologize right now. If you do we might share our catch with you."
"Salmon? Who fishes for salmon?!" the owl guffaws. "We're fishin' for the good stuff. You can't live in salmon."
"It might be tasty", the owl muses before nibbling on a corner of the soggy parchment with its beak. "Nope!"
"We're fishin' for the scroll or pieces of it at least", the albatross explains. "If we get 'em all the Big Sleeper might not eat us. That would sure be nice."
At the words 'Big Sleeper' both birdmen reverently nod as if they were speaking of a religious figure.
1d20+11 Trustworthy? Selfish or actually caring for the society, etc...
Based on his dealings with her, Fleetwood knows that Zarta is never involved in things that don't directly benefit her. In this particular case she seemed to be evaluating the party as it was being assembled, as if she has a vested interested in making sure this particular mission is completed flawlessly. Nothing about her poise or tone suggested she was hiding any information.
***
While Baloo has no clue what the creatures are (some midget subspecies of tengu perhaps?), Zirt has heard of them. She believes them to be gathlain, a type of ancient fey born from the seeds of the oldest trees to grow in the First World. She's heard that they're mischievous, capricious, and often selfish but not necessarily malicious. They have minor magical powers over nature. She has no idea what a 'Big Sleeper' is.
"The Scroll silly", the albatross says. "The scroll the Big Sleeper wants. She needs it so she can send the smarty-pants dogcat back where he belongs."
The owl frowns. "I really don't like that guy."
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"Oh!" exclaims the gnome, as if the two bird-men's words explained everything. "Well, we certainly don't want you to get eaten, so maybe we can help you find The Scroll and not get eaten! We're going to go in there! Um, can you just remind my friends here what it looks like? I'm not good at describing things. And I don't suppose we can talk to the Big Sleeper? Do you think she'd consent to see us?"
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"It might be tasty", the owl muses before nibbling on a corner of the soggy parchment with its beak. "Nope!"
"We're fishin' for the scroll or pieces of it at least", the albatross explains. "If we get 'em all the Big Sleeper might not eat us. That would sure be nice."
At the words 'Big Sleeper' both birdmen reverently nod as if they were speaking of a religious figure.
Natula very actively ignores the gnome and the fair-weather Balooo wearing his bare necessities. At least Morvius managed to strike the proper tone. She fumes then smiles. The elf-blood has a good point too....
"I think you two need to be more concerned with me eating you right now than some sleepy-eyed boogie. I bet you fry up nice as chicken." She stops and considers Zirt.
"Though I might start with a tossed salad first." She says evilly, her voice the very archetype of vocal fry.
"Get back to your fishing for now you two. But we'll wanna go through your nets when you're done. And hopefully--for your sake--there will be something in them worth eating more than you."
Natula utters a word of magic. Her eyes flash with eerie blue-green light.
"Morvius, do you have the sight? I think we'll need all the eyes we can get."
"Balooo, can you wrangle us up a shelf boat? I hate the smell of wet dog."
She scans the area around the birdies' boat from where she stands.
"It looks like a scroll. It's filled with maaaaagic", the owl says.
"Big magic!" adds the albatross.
Morvious's comment gets the pair nodding again. "Yes! Yes! What he said. He's a smart one. He should be in charge."
Natula's second diatribe makes the duo flinch. "No eatin' please. Here take it. Just promise you'll take it to the Big Sleeper once you're done lookin'", the owl says. "She's up the windy stairs", he explains while pointing toward the spiral staircase to the southeast.
The owl holds up a scrap of waterlogged parchment draped across his tiny clawed hand. When the party takes it, they discover it's actually two scraps of parchment that are clinging together.
Wading into the cold water, Balooo finds that it barely reaches his knees.
Moving down is perilous as water constantly floods down the stairs, periodically joined by bigger surges that threaten to upend those attempting to use them. With a little caution the party's able to make it all the way to the bottom. Unlike the first floor, the Understacks is unlit. Fortunately, Natula has come prepared.
Flooding from the library above has turned this storage chamber into a treacherous bog. Rising above the black lake, the flat tops of many rows of shelves create a makeshift maze of causeways. Four narrow corridors channel rivers of seawater off into the darkness.
A soft light can be seen behind one of the further bookshelves.
With some difficulty, Balooo wades through the deep water. As he turns the corner of the bookshelf, the light seems to disappear beneath the water's surface. As Natula moves up behind the skald a hideous creature comes into view. Perched a top one of the further bookshelves is a enormous rotting vulture. It's eyeless skull turns to 'look' in Balooo's direction but it doesn't seem to pay much mind to the party's presence until a tiny iridescent worm appears in the empty air above the party's back rank. The air around the worm shimmers as if from intense heat.
Spotting the shimmering worm, the giant vulture gives a rattling squawk and takes to the air!
The undead vulture flies through the air on clumsy rotting wings and pecks, viciously, at Balooo.
The worm flits back and forth through the air before finally zooming in close enough to deliver a painful bite to Zirt's noble hound.
Even though its bite is hard enough to draw blood there's a playful quality to its movement as it darts away.
Baloo recognizes the worm as a voidworm, a subtype of chaotic outsiders called proteans. Much like the fey they're known for being capricious and sometimes insane, but not necessarily malicious. Voidworms aren't resistant to any specific materials or types of weapons. The poison in their tails is known to cause temporary hallucinations.
He believes the bird is some kind of unique juju zombie. They're resistant to any weapon that isn't both magic and slashing.
Natula's able to confirm Balooo's theory of what the iridescent worm harassing Zirt and her dog is.