Ralklain tries the lock with the keys, eventually getting it open with the gold key from the ceiling.
*Poof* A small explosion of blue fills most of the room, spreading 10' in each direction from the chest.
(Unfortunately, everyone is considered close enough since no one specified, and the room is small.)
You turn blue for 3d20 minutes!
The trap might have been a case of the Prestidigitation spell.
Inside you find a map of the Salhar burial vaults beneath Sothis and a wand.
It is a Wand of Knock (CL 3, 11 charges).
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K
K
Nope
Nope
Damn, this blue smoke surely did something. If you don't mind people, I would like to put everything back in place. Will you help me?
By that I mean,:
- Locking the steel chest and putting it back in place;
- Putting the gold key back with prestidigitation;
- Reactivate the trap which dropped the gold key;
- Put the Scepter key back inside;
- Lock the Jeweled chest;
- putting the key back in the acid;
- taking the snake (dazed and with handle animal with a tool) and putting it back in the fold
- putting the cloth in the basket
- putting the key over it
- closing with the lid
- putting the wicker basket where it was.
- Getting out of here.
After your little ordeal is over, you leave the room, and see that the servant seems pleased at your success. He makes notes of the condition of the room - and, most particularly, any Pathfinders who are still blue - and says that you may keep the wand and the map, of course, though he requests that the group return any keys they may have found.
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pizzmic being slightly lower than the trap when it is set off is easily able to sheild himself from the raining powder.pizzmic looks at the servant and says hmmmm yes very well.....are we done the puzzles and other child's play? I would like very much not to be delayed any futher from the task at hand
Talor successfully resists the blue
On the way to the Ivy District for your last job, Alia, Narvik and Ralklain get the sense that they’re being watched, but can’t pinpoint who or where the sensation comes from.
(Alia is no longer blue by the time you arrive, fortunately.)
Arriving at Paracountess Zarta Dralneen’s townhouse in the Ivy District, you come upon a magnificent gothic structure three stories in height. The ebon lacquered double doors wrought with gleaming silver fixtures greet the characters, a prickly brass cone hanging from a chain serving as the door chime. Moments after ringing it, a servant in loose casual attire opens the door, greeting you as if expected.
“My mistress will answer any questions you have once we reach her quarters.”
Led through well-appointed sitting rooms, ballrooms, and a grand stairway granting a view of an elaborate study, your finally arrive on the third floor of the house, at the door of Zarta’s personal study, which lies beyond her bedroom. Knocking upon the door and announcing his presence, the servant opens the darkly stained wooden door.
A large intricate carpet dominates the marble floor in this sitting room. A chaise sits along the north wall and a desk spans the southwest corner, its chair positioned with its back to the southwest corner of the room. Three comfortable chairs are positioned around a small, low circular table.
Crash ... Boom!, come noises from beyond the room's west door.
“Aldor, you are dismissed. Close the door behind you and attend to your other tasks.” Crash, tinkle! Paracountess Zarta Dralneen then turns her attention to the group. “It’s always so incredibly adorable when I see a fresh-faced batch of Pathfinders. I mean, look at you scrumptious little teacakes. I could eat each and every one of you up. Well, maybe not you.” Zarta points (at Exitium?). “I assume this isn’t a pleasure visit since most of you are terribly overdressed for that manner of occasion, so that must mean you are here for that trinket Valsin has been nagging me about. Seems I can’t get that man around these parts anymore,” she gestures, sliding her hand down her body and widening the gesture to sweep out and across the room as if her home were a secondary thought. “On the good side, he always sends me all the precious new recruits.
“Many think we in Cheliax serve and worship devils, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, we use the creatures for their power. They serve us..." Boom! Boom! Boom! Rip!, an extended cacophony erupts, causing the Paracountess to pause. "...and we sculpt their power in our own interests. The world must come to terms with the order of things. People need to know their place and operate accordingly. It is the only way to make order from this world. Too many people stretch too far beyond their station, making waves and eroding the true order.”
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Ralklain and Exitium exchange a knowingly look, and Ralklain looks again to the woman. He got a large smile on his face, and appears to be having fun in hearing the absurd the woman is saying. Like if he was dealing with a child.
Don't say a word X, she's gonna say what she want in a minute... As if she had the right to ask for anything...
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Wuliem seems to be listening intently to the sounds in the background.
He absently wanders in the direction of the noise.
As he is slowly walking in that general direction, he notices--for the first time--Paracountess Zarta Dralneen’s presence.
I...uh...excuse me. I was just...you were saying?
He abruptly takes a seat in one of the chairs.
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Talor watches the Paracountess intently Hello!, his eyebrows rising at each crash, boom, and/or tinkle. He waits for her to finish, then addresses her.
We have indeed come for the "trinket" that was loaned to you from the vaults. May I ask what this noise is in the room behind you?
Surely she has conjured some creature that is now absurdly out of control, and wants us to do the work of taming it for her.
As the paracountess talks, a cacophony of booms and crashes sounds from beyond the room’s west door. She sometimes pauses at an extended eruption of these noises before continuing with the conversation. If asked about the neighboring ruckus, Zarta explains, “A servant is greatly misbehaving. You’re going to have to deal with it in order to get the trinket.” She goes over to the desk in her study, opening a drawer and drawing out an exquisite silver letter opener shaped like a dagger (treat as a masterwork silver dagger). “You might need this to get it to submit,” she offers it to Talor with a sly grin.
"It is an imp, a tiny devil of no great consequence, but of good- well, significant use."
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Ralklain smile is still showing, but he has a flashback of the VCs orders:
You will follow their orders as you would mine...
"I'm afraid I cannot contain myself against devils - , miss, so it may end up dead. Are you sure you want us to continue on with this, or would you like to return what you have loaned without putting your 'pet' - he sounds disgusted mentioning the word - life in danger?"
"I'm sure that Ambrose would not have picked you for this task if you weren't competent and flexible - or do you normally kill servants? Even in Cheliax we usually don't kill servants, ... at least not the useful ones. And perhaps the imp has some information about that box that the Pathfinders or the Silver Crusade - ", she enthuses mockingly, "- would find useful? Don't you want to know what that could be? Maybe some power you would find useful in you crusade for all that is good?" Zarta seems to be enjoying herself and all of her efforts at temptation.
"Perhaps we can talk in terms of trade, then. If I know Ambrose - and I do know him - he probably gave you straightforward instructions to follow my orders, the dear. So, I'll say 'I order you not to kill the devil' - but please do kill any demons you may find about the place! - and you can decide which to trade: your commitment to the Pathfinders or to what is Good. Do what you must."
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In a clear, penetrating, and syrupy tone, Alia clears her throat and speaks.
We're here to get the job done,
Alia looks to Pizzmic and, with her eyes, indicates that perhaps they should get moving.
and that is what we mean to do. If you say that we look "scrumptious enough to eat", I say "eat me!": we will do what is required of us!
O dear, I hope I didn't over do it...
Alia moves to the door with purpose.
'Looking' at the door reveals that beyond are powerful magics of the abjuration and evocation schools, apparently in the same place (tough to tell exactly through the doors).
Zarta’s bedroom is decorated in the colors of Cheliax—ebon black and crimson red. Silk, rare woods, and carefully carved marble compose every bit of furniture in the room. Goose down now litters the room, covering almost every surface and the silken shreds of the cushions that contained it lie about like flayed skin. A post on the massive screened bed is snapped in half, collapsed on the bed and drawing the screened curtains into a ripped slope of formerly fine cloth. Vials of perfume and crystal jars of other cosmetics sit smashed on the marble floor around the dresser. A prominent fixture in the room, a large “X” made of stout wood sits along the west wall, complete with leather shackles and chains. A table sits to its left strewn with various items intended for pleasure, but outwardly resembling implements of pain.
A small, monstrous creature with long horns, fiendish wings, red skin, and a furiously-lashing, scorpion-like tail has what must be the 'trinket' in question - a dented metal box that the creature flies and throws which as much strength as it can muster against the stone wall to the north of it. It doesn't seem to care about (or perhaps even notice) your arrival or question.
The creature is an imp, one of the least among the devils, and is sometimes a familiar or companion of lawful evil wizards and others.
The creature has a resistance to damage that can be overcome by silver weapons. It is immune to fire and poison.
Some of the ... 'pleasure' tools ... are made of silver, including a silvered cat-o’-nine-tails and a silver-tipped riding crop lies on the table in the southwest corner, just inside the door.
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Wuliem reaches into a pocket, producing an extract.
He drinks it as he watches the Imp with amusement.
He then reaches into another pocket, bringing out a familiar looking vial of liquid. He then downs that still looking at the imp!
Wuliem--appearing noticeably more bestial--
reaches into another pocket, bringing out yet another
familiar looking object.
He continues to look at the Imp before throwing the
tanglefoot bag at it!
I can't abide rudeness!
Despite a precise and calculated throw, the awkwardness of throwing over the heads his companions and the distance involved cause his bag to miss, exploding far from the agile little monster.
The imp seems unfazed flies and tosses the iron chest across the room, smashing it into the wall across the room and causing in to fall with a *boom* on the hard stone floor.
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Ralklain moves closer to the bed (F6), crossbow lowered on hand. Altough he wants to rush and to kill the thing he feel pity for the little monster. We are all weird in the core...
Hey listen up, Devil. Exitium here is enough to kill you, but there are 8 of us in case you get lucky. If you are smart, and I bet you are, you will agree with what I propose. I want you to surrender, so we don't have to hurt you. If you do that, you may try to escape later, when there aren't many of us around. Otherwise you will be probably be missing and arm or a leg by then. Very straightforward business. So, what do you say?
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Madam rest assured that no personal agendas will conflict with this task at hand, we will return your imp to you alive and hopefully unharmed
now hopefully to leave the woman not insulted and more at ease with our aid. Pizzmic will enter the room moving to E5 and will cast sleep on the Imp(will save 15)
Pizzmic strides in confidently - more for the view than anything else, since it is well within range - and begins to cast Sleep.
With a curse and a spit, the imp turns invisible and you sense that it may have moved...