Jal manages to unlock the first prisoner, the one who had tried to grab the ledge. The old man sputters gratefully to be free of the chain, and swims a few feet back to give the others room. His ragged scholar's robe floats and billows around him. "Not me," he admits through some coughing.
The other three men, still chained together and struggling to keep their heads above water with the iron chain dragging at them, all blurt, "ME! Me, I'm Gill, I- glurg-- unlock me next!!" "What?! You conniving liar-- glub--" "They're both lyinghlb!"
Rogar buries another arrow in the spine of one of the thugs, but the man's still standing. Just. Kara drops his foe with one clean slash-- guess he's not walking away after all!
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Artoria tries her best to keep herself and the prisoners afloat, while still trying to break off the chains as best she can. She remains stoic even as the men try to jocky for being freed first.
"Don't bother lying or fighting amongst each other. You will all be freed. Cooperate with each other, and you might be free sooner."
Yvette ends things dramatically with the man in front of her-- a ball of ice that drops him... cold.
Artoria realizes the surf is surprisingly rough-- she starts to go under, and has to quickly shut her mouth to avoid sucking in a lungful of water! She still manages to wrench open a second segment of the chain, freeing another of the old men.
The last remaining thug looks around and realizes his fellows have all been felled. With a curse, he turns and flees, running back down the cliff towards town.
Kara is able to lower a rope down to the rough surf below. It takes some doing between Artoria and Jal, and some hauling and grunting up at the top of the cliff, but ultimately you manage to haul each of the soaking-wet old graybeards back to the top of the cliff, where they stand, shivering and rubbing their frail limbs.
"Gill, this is all your fault," one curses through chattering teeth.
"Yes-- how many people do you owe money to?" one whines.
The most bedraggled-looking of the old men, who sports a black eye as well as his wet clothing, raises his hands defensively. "This had nothing to do with money! It's far worse than that!" He looks frantically at the Pathfinders. "You-- you're Pathfinders, yes? We-- there is a problem!"
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Jal—now thoroughly soaked—clambers back up the wet rock-face and squelch-steps his way over next to Gill. Stooping to reclaim his pack and re-coil his rope, he elbows Karasuma, "Thanks for fishing us out, Feathers. I don't think Her Highness and I were looking forward to a climb back up those rocks by ourselves."
He gives the old men a scowl, which he focuses on Gill, ”So what’s this worse than money problems problem, then?”
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Artoria 's soaked dress drags along the ground, making her steps awkward and wide as she tries to retrieve her sword. She bows her head to Kara.
"Thank you for your assistance, Kara."
She looks back over the prisoners that they have freed. A faint, tired smile appears on her face.
"We managed to save everyone." From her melancholic tone, it's clear that has not always been the case for her.
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The tengu will take a few moments to catch his breath once the party and the attendant individuals of less means are back atop the cliff.
He takes the elbow to the ribs in stride.
"Karela would have my tail-feathers if I let you just drown. This way, you could theoretically owe me a favor. No, I don't lean on that kind of thing, it's bad for business."
Artoria will get a bit of a nod then glance to the crusty men. The warning of 'problem' has his attention.
"Well, the fact that the four of you of roughly the same description were just marched up here to be executed here in Absalom, even in the Puddles tends to drive that point home. Anybody strong on bestial religions, maybe?"
Given that the men were attacking in nonsensical and bestial fashion, a few candidates come to mind, but his guess is as good as any others...
Kara will count off on his fingers with a rough guess. Rovagug, Gozreh, Besmara..."
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"Lamashtu," Odd contributes, daggers stowed and healing hands aiding a brief prayer over each motionless assailant. "You there!" she calls to the nearest street urchin in sight, walking to meet them halfway from the cliff. "Go find me the Watch. There's a copper or two in it for you."
She mops back a golden strand of wet hair from her eyes and pulls up her hood to keep out the rain. She turns back to the wet scene at the edge of cliff and awaits Gill's reply.
The last thug, when he goes to flee, is quickly cut down by one of Odd's blades. Odd looks to call for a street urchin, but it is nighttime, in the Puddles, on a seacliff, and it's pouring rain-- if there are any street urchins about they don't seem to be standing close enough to be visible at the moment.
Yargos Gill wrings water out of his drenched robes. "It's... well it's sort of an interesting story..."
The other three old men groan loudly. "Oh gods, here he goes again." "Look, thank you kindly for the rescue-- may we leave?" "We've nothing to do with Yargos's mad ideas--"
Gill clears his throat and pushes on. "Several months ago, I came into the possession of a book. It consisted of battle plans and code signals for an invasion from long ago-- an invasion that never happened, exactly. Eight centuries ago, Taldor planned to take Absalom by a mixture of force and sabotage. There was a huge fleet of Taldan ships just off the coast of the Isle of Kortos, and a number of planted operatives here within the city itself-- with directives to take out certain strategic targets before the armada landed. There was a rather complex series of signal lights arranged, which were detailed in the book-- really, it was quite interesting, from a heraldic and historical point of view, to think that Taldor was using this methodology to--"
Gill catches the look his friends are giving him, clears his throat, and moves on. "Well, never mind that part! Anyway, the invasion never happened-- Absalom heroes discovered the hidden operatives and killed them all, before they could signal the armada to land. Our glorious navy went forth and ambushed the enemy fleet, and Absalom was saved. It's a very thrilling story. Always one of my favorites, as a boy, but..."
Again he refocuses. "--I'm afraid I did something a bit foolish. On a lark, I went out to the old promontory mentioned in the plans and, ah, lit the first signal lamp..."
One of the other graybeards peevishly speaks up. "He dragged us out there on a cold, windy night and blathered about how he was recreating an important historical moment and then tried to charge us for the privilege of watching him wave a lantern around! The nit!"
"Ye-es," mutters Gill. "Anyway. There were, um, unforeseen consequences to my attempt to enshrine an important historical moment. The first bit is, ah..." he clears his throat, delicately, "--well-- not to put too fine a point on it, but-- undead. Apparently, the, um, the draw of completing their mission was even more powerful than the grave itself! Wasted forms arose, quickly vanishing into the Absalom alleys and cesspits-- and I greatly fear they may be attempting what they failed at, in life. To sabotage the city's weak points-- then signal their fleet, and bring a wave of war to Abaslaom... save this would be the undead as well...
"The other, um, issue, is that I owed a large sum of money to a chap named Nessian. He ... took the book, and the information of all the codes within," from me. A most unpleasant brigand. These brutes around you are some of his men. Call themselves 'War Hounds.' Nessian thinks he can control the hordes of undead Taldan soldiers. He's mistaken-- but his error could still doom Absalom! We must stop him, and regain that codebook! I fear we've no time to waste!"
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"Oh, is that all?" Jal responds with flippant sarcasm, "Just need to stop an ancient undead invasion before it wipes Absalom clean off Golarion. And here I thought tonight might be boring."
Jal wipes his soaked hair from his face as he looks at his fellow pathfinders, "Anyone know anything about Nessian?" He boots one of the unconscious thugs, "Or do we need to see if we can make one of his hounds bay for us?"
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Karasuma stares at Gill.
Of all the incompetent and... ARGGGGH!
"Speaking hypothetically, on a scale of 'about as irritating as tax day' to 'The Starstone explodes and takes Kortos with it', where would you place the impending potential apocalypse and have you retained legal counsel yet, in the event charges are brought against you?"
Gill wrings his beard out at Jal's sarcasm, shoulders hunched to his ears, and looks mournfully at Kara's reproach.
"....I suppose about halfway between the two," he answers seriously. "Taxes are a plague which scholars such as myself ought to exempt from, of course, as we contribute to society in immeasurable other ways, but the Starstone exploding would be bad, very bad... hmn? No, of course I haven't acquired legal counsel, I was busy being beaten up by thugs and then thrown off a cliff. Anyway I haven't the money for it, or this might all have been avoided to begin with."
He squints at Odd. "Eh? Ohno. He's a disreputable sort. I don't even want to think about what manner of vile den he holes up in... if you can get these scallywags to talk that might be helpful, though... I know a man who might know-- he's the fellow that introduced me to Nessian in the first place. A scoundrel who calls himself Torch."
A glance over the thugs reveals that they carry little of interest, unless one is attached to leather armor, a light crossbow, a sap, a handful of crossbow bolts, an unlit torch, or a tindertwig, which each man is carrying, as well as their spiked gauntlets. Additionally, each of the War Hounds has a tattoo which features an image of a snarling dog.
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"Torch, huh?" Jal says with a smirk, sounding unimpressed, "Who names their kid Torch? What is he? An kid's novelette hero? Does he—"
However the sarcastic comment ended, it's cut off and forgotten as Jal looks back into the city, squinting against the rain. He points to a low, red, intermittent light. "Torch may have to wait, because finding Nessian might have just gotten easier." He turns to Gill, fearing he already knows the answer to his next question, "That's another signal, isn't it?"
He thinks quickly, turning to squint out to sea, "You said undead appeared when you used your signal, Gill? Should we be expecting them here in town or from the water?" If confirmed, Jal's ever present smirk falls. "I hate undead."
As he waits for Gill's answers and searches the water, he cuts another lopsided grin over to Artoria. "You might get another shot at showing us what a big damn hero you are."
He seems ready to rush off towards the light.
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Karasuma walks over to the spot where he dropped the coin pouch earlier in the fight.
"Hmm. It looks like you dropped this by accident. I'll just take this as my retainer in the event you DO need legal counsel, if you'd like, and we can talk about proper fees in the event you do become incarcerated for crimes against Absalom. I'm pretty confident in my ability, though, I think we can get it knocked down to misdemeanor reckless mischief. Provided... of course, that you're being on the level with your prospective attorney..."
"Well, then. Do you know where this 'Torched' fellow frequents?"
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Odd picks the least bloody War Hound to flip over onto his back. Touching two fingers to his forehead she feels an energy flow down her arm.
"Welcome back to the land of the living," Odd smiles. "I do hope you'd prefer to delay your meeting with my goddess."
She presents her palm, where a purple spiral that flows up her wrist is tattooed.
"Nessian. Where is he?"
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Artoria stands back, observing the interogation. The second she hears that someone has noticed a signal, she sheathes her sword and prepares to depart. She pauses for a moment at Jal's comment.
"My honor is sans reproche. I have nothing to prove to anyone."
She turns away, muttering something to herself.
"other than myself...."
The side of her mouth turns up as she hears Kara jockying for a paycheck.
"There will be plenty of other opportunities for you to bilk people out of their money, Kara. We have a city to save."
When Jal points out the red light, Gill gasps, and nods miserably at Jal's conclusion. "That is the signal for the first targeted strike!" he groans. "The Taldan operatives were to strike first at the city's emergency granary-- to hobble the city in preparation for the sea siege! There must be undead headed there even now."
Jal sees no other signal lights answering the red glow.
Yargos twists his hands together as he blinks through the rain at the tengu. "Eh? What-- I dropped-- oh... oh yes, I dropped that purse, of course, I must have..."
One of the three other grumpy old men who are trying to reach a state of more dryness than wetness (with little success) makes a noise that sounds like a coughed "bull s&+@!"
(Unfortunately for Kara, he cannot think of one particular building that might serve as the origin point for the light-- rather, he can think of dozens, for in the populous and crowded districts of Absalom, people build upwards to the extend their building materials allow. It is due north from the Puddles, for what that may be worth.)
"--anyway, much as I would love to consider my future, at the moment, my criminal charges are only likely to accrue deeper if the granary is compromised," Gill says hurriedly. "Perhaps we should go there? Now? We might alert the guards there in time to prevent the destruction of the food stores!"
While Yargos says this, Odd is pragmatically finding the least-injured War Hound and bringing him to a feeble consciousness. The thug coughs up some blood, then gazes blearily up at Odd and her displayed symbol. "Whuhhh...? Nessian? Th' boss? Could be... a lotta places, lady. Boss-man has a big night planned, I hear."
Rogar's suggestion earns fervent nods from the other three old men, who are helping themselves to anything on the bodies of the War Hounders that you haven't already taken. Yargos looks wistfully wishing he were joining them, but he clears his throat.
"I know where Torch may be found-- but I fear our first priority must be to reach the city granary!"
After a hurried jog-walk through the streets, as Yargos is not exactly sprightly, you emerge from the Puddles into the Docks. At this hour, the streets are nearly empty-- carousing sailors who might normally be keeping the taverns and brothels open into the wee hours have been driven inside by the miserable rain... and by a creeping, low fog that seems to exist coterminous with the rain, in defiance of nature. You slosh forward towards the bulk of one of the important granaries-- a large and imposing structure that appears out of the fog before you. Yargos tries to wipe rain from his face.
"There should be city guards here!" he cries, looking left and right-- but ahead, you can see slumped forms next to the granary's large doors, and closer inspection reveals you are too late to save the three towns guards that had been posed here.
They look as though their bodies were sliced open by vicious slashing weapons. The rain has largely washed their blood away, but you don't think they've been dead very long.
The bulk of the granary is before you, silent and dark. The main doors leading in are a few feet ajar. The chamber beyond is dark as a tomb, and deathly silent.
Several of you can see in the dark with no problems, however, and glance in to see that this front room appears to be a processing room for grain shipments, with a desk and a few chairs and a row of pegs where workers might hang their coats. The musty smell of grain hangs thick in the air. Two sets of double doors are on the far wall; one of these sets is already ajar. Through that set, a cloying grey mist is visible.
Yargos looks fearful. "....you're all going to go in first, right?" he whispers.
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The moment she sees the dead guards, Artoria draws her sword, nodding at Archimedes on her shoulder. He nods back, puffing up his chest and stretching his wings as he puts on a fierce face (or at least the fiercest face a slightly chubby owl can manage).
"A knight would never send her charge into danger ahead of her. Worry not, Yargos."
As the party enters, Artoria holds out a hand, warning the others to stop. She points her sword at the footprints and blood and holds up a finger to her mouth, her mouth producing a voiceless "shhhh." She begins to follow the footprints.
It is dark. You are likely to be eaten by a grue.
Going in as far as he can before the light fails him, Jal reaches the second set of interior doors; the blood trail leads to the open pair of doors. He can see no details of the pitch-black room beyond, other than noting a few wisps of curling white mist that the last shreds of moonlight touch. He hears nothing.
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Jal stalks back to Artoria, slipping what feels like a small rock into her fist, using both of his hands to make sure she keeps it concealed momentarily in her closed fist.
"Here ya go, Hero," he whispers to her, "it's an iuon torch. Give us a few seconds, then open your hand and hold it high."
He makes sure she agrees, then stalks back to the door, watching from what he hopes is a cover as the torch reveals more of the room beyond.
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Artoria stares at Jal, making no motion to accept the stone.
She reaches her hand into her bag. Still staring at Jal.
She starts searching at increasing speed. Still staring. "Damn it all, Merlin, stop rearranging my things."
She stops as she finds it. Still staring.
She pulls out a dull gray ioun stone with continual flame on it. Still staring.
"Yes. I know."
She lets it fly about her head, then turns to begin walking forward once more.
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"BILK?" "No, you misunderstand my intent, ma'am. If I've established a legal basis to represent the client, then the client can tell me things *in confidence*. But since you've misrepresented that, it will now be *much* harder for a prospective client to accept that in good faith."
The tengu WAS in the process of pulling out a potion to handle the whole 'darkness' issue when Artoria simply walks in. Jal gets a sympathetic look and a shrug as Kara pulls out his enchanted curve blade and advances with the party, hoping it's zombies or the like.
Skeletons would be a pain in the tail-feathers. Hate skeletons!
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"Intention is irrelevant when action is unchanged. Whether you intended to bilk him or not, you were wasting our time and liable to soon waste his money."
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She doesn't bother looking back to Jal as he speaks. She holds her blade up, glancing at it with slight regard.
"My good blade carves the casques of men. I do not care for mustard."
With multiple light sources now flooding the way forward and making your entrance clearly visible... and with preparations made, you enter the granary, moving to the doors that lead into the first grain room, where the light of your spells and ioun torches plays over a large, high-ceiling room. The air is hard to see through*-- particles of grain dust hang thick in the chill air, but furthermore, unnatural mist wreathes the room, curling and coiling in thick tendrils, heavy and low to the ground. It does not truly block sight, but it hangs like a gauzy curtain throughout the entire space, collecting here and there in thicker patches. The mist smells of cold salt water and dead seaweed-- a sharp scent to mingle with that of the grain.
Despite the poor visibility, you can make out several details: a stairwell on the eastern wall, that rises along the southern and disappears into a door somewhere over your heads-- a large gap in the wall to the north, and another large open chamber beyond; a similar gap in the western wall.
The room is also thick with grain. Everywhere throughout this room, the floor is buried under at least a few inches of hulled wheat; in some places it piles thicker and deeper, up to nearly waist height.
Clear signs of passage cut through this grain, leading both north and west, towards the two gaps-- the mark of feet moving through, it would seem.
In the shadows of the high ceiling, you can dimly make out the shapes of nine square hatches , each with a dangling chain that reaches down to about ten feet above the floor. These chains all end in a metal ring about six inches across. The grain piles are highest beneath several of these.
Aside from the scuff of your own feet against the stone, the rasp of your breathing, there is no sound at all in the granary. Yargos remains back at the entrance, peering around but making no move to come inside after you.
Moving closer, the light from Artoria's ioun stone plays into the further chamber as well-- and shines over three stick-thin figures, clad in tattered cloaks and clutching long staves. They turn back towards her as the light reaches them, revealing their gauntness is due their skeletal nature, and their staves are actually scythes.
Even as she notes this, the grain before her erupts with another figure standing from the hulled kernels!
These are not your traditional zombies or skeletons, but a unique creature created by the oaths sworn long ago by the elite Taldan soldiers who were sworn to Absalom's downfall. You are able to identify several probable abilities: they are undead, with the usual traits that entails; they are resistant to piercing damage; they are able to manifest a cloying sea-mist that provides them some cover from ranged attacks; and they appear to completely deaden sound around them.
Odd dives forward...
One of Odd's daggers slices across withered bone and emaciated flesh, leaving a deep gouge. She notices something strange, however-- when she steps in to fight the creature, the world becomes silent as the grave. Her shout to Pharasma goes unheard by any, including herself.
A moment later, Rogar's blunted arrow crashes into its ribcage, knocking out most of it, but the creature is still standing.
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She holds out her sword, rotating it in a slow arc, pointing at each undead in turn.
"UNDEAD ABOMINATIONS! You shall yearn for the embrace of the grave after I am done with you."
She takes off straight into the middle of the group of three undead in the next room, swinging at the one on her left flank.
