|
Kegdrainer sees powerful magic emanating from everywhere, as usual. But the chains binding Abysiel and the rest of the astrolabe are positively radiant with it. Izyren's Hourglass, of course, is another matter, being bright nearly to the point of blinding.
With a bit of work, the mages of the team come to a realization. Fortunately, this happens before Vagantem saws away all of the bronze chains, leaving time for a decision. Infused with the power of Izyren's Hourglass, the astrolabe is the only thing keeping Abysiel alive. The artifact can be taken, but were one to remove him from his chains, the elf would die instantly.
Nuar groans again, clutching his head. "I suppose it doesn't matter. You aren't here to kill me, seems like. Last I remember, I woke up in a cave and nearly got beaten to death by a horde of morlocks. They must have brought me here. The elf, I'd bet he put them up to it. He's been whispering in my mind, while I was asleep. Would you like to know what he was raving about? Maybe you can make more sense of it than I."
Originally crafted to keep time precisely and aid the wizard’s study of the heavens, near-constant tampering and augmentation eventually forged a sympathetic link between the Hourglass and the flow of ages around it. The sands keep perfect time, and anyone studying the artifact for 5 minutes can determine the exact position of any given celestial body at that moment. While in the presence of the Hourglass, mortal beings age at half their natural rate.
|
|
"Well, he implied being from very early times, just after the elves returned to Golarion after the Age of Darkness," Nuar reels off. Per what he says, Abysiel communicated with him via the minotaur's subconscious, making it both easy and infuriating to fully recall. "He was born among humans, and got very sad as they died around him. A...voice told him a way to save his friends. This guided him to build the Tangle under Absalom, with Izyren's Hourglass to power it, slowing or halting the ravages of time."
The Prince taps his head again, gathering himself. "But the voice - he called it the Void Whisperer or something - hoodwinked him at the last moment. It tried to use the Tangle and the elf's soul to bring itself into the world. But it didn't work. So it just left him stuck here, nigh immortal. Some vestige of the Whisperer might still be about as well."
|
"The dragon has heard of elves that live among humans and get sad when they die. They are called forlorn," he says with a smug smile, clearly satisfied with his display of immense knowledge. He then thinks about Vagantem's comment.
"The thing did call itself the void whisperer. The dragon remembers."
|
|
"I don't envy you this decision," Nuar sighs, cleverly foisting said choice onto the team. "Certainly he isn't doing so well here. He's tried to kill us and likely has done so before. But he seems to be out of his mind, and was tricked into this. Leaving him here could just lead to a repeat of the cycle." Abysiel moans something unintelligible yet vengeful in his stupor.
"I can't make this call; I, of course, have a bias. But I'd still like to know: How did you find me here? Again, I don't even recall how I got into this hellhole."
|
|
"Torch?" Nuar looks mildly shocked, but is still quick to dismiss Vagantem. "That can't be right, Miss. He and I are simply the best of friends! But perhaps he can help me uncover that mystery another time." And with that, he won't hear another word about the subject.
The minotaur looks away as Abysiel's throat is sliced. The elf gives a last, gurgling sigh before slumping over and crumbling to dust. The hourglass is retrieved, and the party begins a long yet mercifully morlock-free escape.
Drandle Dreng and Grandmaster Torch are both sitting just about where you left them, despite it having been almost a day. The latter looks immensely relieved to see the Minotaur Prince. "I see you've succeeded, Pathfinders," Dreng wheezes jovially. "Report!"