A well armored dwarf, his suit polished and emblazoned with a greatsword, sits at the "altar" of the Shrine of Battle.
"Ahhh, worshippers!", the dwarf cries out, nearly jumping out of his barrel seat upon the party's arrival.
, the dwarf shouts, arms open at the potential for parishioners.
"Are you Gorumites or looking to learn about the virtues of the Iron one?"
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"We're adventurers, looking to make a sizable donation because of your good works," says Amarthecthel. "And it was battle that got me an unusual injury. Specifically, battle against an alien entity from another planet. In that respect, I have honored Gorum this day with my sweat, my blood and my steel."
"Would you pray to the Lord of Battles for me? Specifically that he rebuke and abolish the disease that has taken hold in my shoulder?"
"Well met, then elf! I'm Brother Eldrast, at ye service. Lemme take a look at that wound.", the dwarf wasting no time inspecting the injury on Amarthecthel's leg.
"By Gorum's sweaty codpiece!", as Eldrast digs into Amarthecthel's leg with a pair of knives as a makeshift forceps, causing the elf to wince in pain. The priest then pulls out a tiny writhing blue larva from the wound. "Ima only heard 'bout this. A strange parasitic infection called 'void death'. Once it kills ya, turns you into a special zombie that spreads ta grubs that cause this. Yer a lucky one to come so soon since there's probably lots o' 'em in your leg, tryin' ta reach yer heart.", Eldrast giving Amarthecthel a strong pound on the chest.
The dwarf then bandages up Amarthecthel's leg. "Unfortunately, I ain't prepared to handle sumtin like that. Gorum's gifts for the day were more for compellin' the masses; least that was mah plan. Stop by first thing in the morning and I can take care o' that for ya for that sizeable donation you were promisin'. I think 150 gold crowns outta do fine, 'eh?"
While Amarthecthel gathers the coin, Brother Eldrast looks over Horgrym, nodding with approval. "Rare ta see one of such short stature so 'eavily armored in this neck of the woods."
He then smiles greatly as he sees the yellow-metal greatsword strapped across the halfling's back. "Mighty fine blade you got there. May I take a look at that beauty?"
"Nope, haven't set foot down there. Usually have my hands full tryin' to civilize the people here, show 'em how a real man fights so they don't hafta do all this banditry nonsense."
"Ain't got the gifts to do that yet; figger Gorum would let me know when someone ain't done fightin' ta good fight, y'know?"
Brother Eldrast looks Pelkin over, a bit unsure of what to make of him. "You seem like an 'onorable fella, so 'opefully you ain't doin nuttin that'll require someone ta be brought back like that an' all. If ya do, you'd have to 'ead over to Fort Inevitable, 'bout 18 miles south of 'ere if ya head there by road."
Looking at Pelkin, the dwarf simply shrugs. "'ell, to be honest with ya, think he's going to be alright. He's hardier than any elf I've come across, but like I said, stop by in the mornin' and I'll make sure that infection ends; can't have a bunch of brain-eatin' zombies ruining the ambiance of banditry and 'ard-thug life, now can we?"
Eldrast walks over behind the altar, withdrawing a large keg while he answer's Horgrym's question.
"Nope; figger there's nuttin 'onorable in a former goblin base. I heard dat them buggers under Chief Graalsk went in there a few times ta try and find sumtin' important down there, although they recently gave up. And them wizards at the Goldenfire Tower were tryin' to figure out some puzzle that predated them gobbos... and they recently gave up on that, too. Dun think it's a coincidence this occurs after a new group of armed men comes inta town."
The dwarf knocks several times on the keg, checking it over and knocking on it to hear the amount of the contents. Nodding in approval, he lifts it up upon his armored frame. "If yer gonna be askin' me all these questions, why not come to tha Thirsty Ogre wit me and share some communion ale. Perhaps some stories from you fellas might inspire the locals to do sumptin' betta with their lives; or at least do so in a more 'onorable manner."
As he starts walking out the door, he finishes his request. "After all, workin' with a priest has to be a better covah story than looking like a new gang trying to muscle in on the town; them damnable Three Daggers blokes won't letcha off easy if they think yer gonna cause 'em some problems."
It's another three weeks of rest as Amarthecthel recovers from his ailments are the party takes in more of the town. Between Brother Eldrast's tales, the Greenforest Inn's cooking, and the strong alcohol at the Thirsty Ogre, the week goes by smoothly.
The rest ends, though, with a delivered letter from another team of Pathfinders that meets you during breakfast at the inn: a female elven cleric of Sarenrae, a older human wizard, a burly looking human in leather armor, and a half-orc with a battleaxe the size of Horgrym.
"Greetings from the Grand Lodge!", quips the elf. "I am Aelee, and these are Dermott, Rozimus, and Garuke.", Aelee pointing to the wizard, rogue, and warrior respectively.
Dermott then speaks up after placing a scrawled piece of parchment on the table. "The Lodge wishes to finish up our exploration of Thornkeep posthaste; with the Worldwound activity acting up, we'll be finishing this in one fell swoop. You are to check out the so called 'Menagerie' while we will catalog the misty room."
The burly man, Rozimus, then speaks up. "Yeah, we got three days to do this, so take your take and rest up if need be."
The half-orc, finishing a morning beer, finally chimes in. "And we'll be lookin' fo' you louts if it's more than that to finish ya work."
Dermott speaks up again upon Amarthecthel's inquiry. "Thanks to Horgrym's translations, we know a little bit about the creator of this dungeon. Nhur Athemon was a powerful Azlanti wizard exiled due to his patronage to various demonic entities with Abraxas being his favored lord. The Society is presuming that this was his lair after exile and look forward to having this untapped trove of Azlanti artifacts and history."
The Aelee, elf cleric finishes it up, adding, "There's also another site, dubbed the Emerald Spire by the locals, that exists northeast of here. With the knowledge an Azlanti wizard resided in this area, they are presuming the Spire may also be his doing and are looking to send agents to explore it after the Jormundun expedition."
Dermott shakes his head. "No unfortunately. Given your description of the Enigma Vaults, it's possible he may have more exhibits down there, although of what can't be fore sure."
'Jus' write 'bout it before ya smash it!', Garuke laughs.
Rozimus shakes his head at the half-orcs comment. "Make sure to get the goods out at least, although be careful about any more bags that go to an alien stomach!"
The party leaves with the senior Pathfinders, heading towards the keep once more.
At the entrance, a familiar trio of goblins awaits you. Before anyone can say a word other than uttering a sigh, one of them pulls out a tuning harmonica before the three bellow out once more.
Oh, it’s bad luck to be you.
With all the terror you’ll be going through.
You shoulda stayed in bed
But now you’ll wind up dead!
Oh it’s bad luck to be you.
You doomed another party to your fate.
Run newcomers, run! It’s not too late!
For death follows their tracks
And you won’t be coming back
From the monsters whose hunger you will sate.
Oh, it’s bad luck to be you.
Venturing into a monster zoo!
Your bodies will be a treat.
For them to gobble up and eat!
Oh it’s bad luck to be you.
This will be your last trip underground.
You won’t be coming back safe and sound!
Your corpse we will not loot,
Cuz to do so would be moot
Since there won’t be any bodies to be found.
Oh, it’s bad luck to be you.
Don’t think for just a second it’s not true.
When your life is run amuck,
you will see that you’re the schmuck.
Oh, it’s bad luck to be,
really bad luck to be,
nobody could disagree.
It’s a freakin’ guarantee!
It’s bad luck to be you.
Diddly doo.
Afterwards, they scamper off towards the briars at the south end of town.
While Dermott and Aelee are stunned, Rozimus is bellowing out in laughter while Garuke growls angrily at the pint-sized menaces. The wizard can only mutter a "How peculiar.", before shaking his head and following everyone inside.
The group travels down through the Accursed Halls and the Forgotten Laboratory. The stench of rotten flesh from the large antechamber with the remains of the alchemically altered goblin is to the point of putrid, although Garuke takes care of that, tossing a vial of alchemist's fire, killing off the odor (and the maggots it attracted) in a single blaze.
"Still dun like dem buggers, even dead", the half-orc snorts at the charred corpse before the group continues their descent.
Through the Enigma Vaults, the apparition once again halts the party at the bridge. It speaks in Azlanti, "By whose leave do you seek the Enigma Vaults?" Once again, Horgrym answers back in Azlanti and the spirit fades away after giving the once familiar warning to not take anything.
With that gone, the trip to the final hallway is uneventful.
While the senior agents look off to the side at the mist-covered corridor, your party stands in front of the door that Horgrym translated as the entrance to the Dark Menagerie. The other team turns to you, Aelee singing a prayer of luck to the party before they disappear down the foreboding hallway.
Horgrym uses his trusty adamantine door opener to breakdown the entrance and the party begins to go down into the unknown chamber. A series of stairs winds down back and forth.
As Horgrym makes the first steps into the floor, two things happen. First, a number of torches on the walls automatically light up into an illuminating flame. At the same time, an unseen bell seems to emit a single, deep, toll, the sound echoing through the flagstone corridor you're about to enter and beyond. As soon as that happens, the sounds of gears creaking back to life can be heard off into the distance, although from where is beyond your knowledge.
Beyond the railing, to the west, is a scuffed circle of blue-white chalk on the northern section of the open floor while against the western wall, closed stone stores impede immediate progress.
@Pelkin: You cannot identify it at all.
@Amarthecthel: There is an EXTREMELY faint conjuration aura.
When Pelkin approaches the door, a ghostly helmet moves through the door. It scans the room, looking at each PC before floating to Amarthecthel's shoulder. Before the elf, distracted during his study of the half-scribed circle, can react, the apparition makes an announcement... in Elven
"Welcome to the Great Menagerie of Nhur Athemon. I presume you are here for the tour?"
@Pelkin: During your quick inspection before the helmet did its thing, the door appears unlocked and no obvious traps that your keen elven eyes spot.
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Responding in the same light and beautiful tongue, Amarthecthel agrees.
"It's inviting us on a tour, Twigg," says the elf, with a nod toward Pelkin. "I have accepted on our behalf."
@Amarthecthel: The circle was previously a teleportation beacon; with some skill, it could be redrawn for more expedient travel (with the appropriate magic of course). If drawn with a high enough Spellcraft, the beacon would count as an extremely familiar location for teleportation purposes.
The helmet, in a matter of factly tone, answers the elves' inquiry.
"Within here are a number of Nhur Athemon's favored locations and the denizens within. I should note that since it has been a long time since the menagerie has been reopened, the exhibits may be aggressive. Nhur Athemon is not responsible for any injuries, dismemberment, or fatalities that may occur during the tour.
The helmet looks towards the door, then back at Amarthecthel before adding,
"And damaging the exhibits may cause irreparable harm to the enchantments that run the Menagerie which may be for or against your benefit and/or survival."