Tromos carefully climbs down the rope outside to the small boat, and another unfastens it for him. At this tide, he is able to paddle the boat completely under the dock. Given the slow currents in the harbor, it is relatively easy to keep the boat positioned under the crate.
Then with a few throws, the crate is hooked up to the crane and raised, then brought over to where the boards are more secure, making the journey without incident.
Amaruu now walks over to the rescued crate and pops the lid all the way round with his crowbar. The crate holds a smaller mahogany box inside, which contains five books and a few loose sheets of paper in a leather folder. The titles and subjects seem completely unrelated to each other: Practical Thaumaturgy In Accordance with Creation, Geographic Anomalies of the Inner Sea, Under Kaer Maga: A Trial and Travel, Physiology of Dragons: An Illustrated Reference, Lost Sarusan. The leather folder contains cargo manifestos, warehouse inventories, and other financial logs from a dozen different merchant houses and trade guilds. The crate also contains 10 sets of masterwork thieves’ tools, three flasks of alchemist’s fire, a flask of acid, a dozen jars of various inks, a footprint book, adamantine weapon blanch, three bags of powder, and (according to slips of paper included with them indicating expected results) a deck of marked cards and two sets of average loaded dice.
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"Doesn't worry me." Xeno says picking up a book and flicking through it. Once she has looked at the first she pick up a second looking to check they are the books they claim to be and look for notes in the margins. "This is just the sort of set of books that can be used to pass secret messages. You write down a list of numbers in one book" she indicates one of the financial logs. "Then look up those page numbers in another book and write the first word. Everything can look very innocent and without knowing the exact method imposible to decode."
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 Storn, perhaps?). “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.” Crash! Tinkle, tinkle.
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Storn's massive form stands back from the countess. His hairy arms are folded and his hairier face looks bored.
"This scrumptuous little teacake is very impressed by all the things you bought and would love to hear you talk about Chelish politics for the next six hours. But can we just get the thing from the vaults back? Maybe bring ruin on whatever is making that noise if we have time."
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The alchemist scuffs his feet on the ornate rug, examining every part of the well-appointed sitting room but the corner occupied by the paracountess.
"Of course," he replies, "and our orders include returning for you this borrowed item. With that in hand, we would be glad to pass on your regards to Venture-Captain Valsin."
To Storn, with her unchanging smile-smirk, "Ooo, you are a spicier dish, then? No teacake? Shall I need a vial of wismuth salix for you? Well, we all suffer for our pleasures, now don't we?"
To Tromos, "I like a man who knows how to follow orders. You are welcome to get it -", she gestures towards the - Boom! Crash! Scrape! - room next door.
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Amaruu stands still forcing himself to maintain a facade and hide his annoyance.
I suppose this is a test of resolve, future employers will be as detestable, but who they are matters not, only the blessed rite of dancing with the forsaken matters.
When she gestures towards the loud sounds Amaruu breaks into a smile.
"I hope this dance is more fun than our last." his hands fall to rest on the hilts of his serrated blades as he progresses forward.
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Storn stares at the Paracountess, letting her silly babble hang in the air for a moment.
"I don't understand the question and won't respond to it. I'd ask what's making all the noise, but that would mean talking to you more, and neither of us wants that."
Turning away from the countess, Storn stomps over to the door. "Get your weapons out, maybe we can hit something." He draws his greatsword. [b]"Get ready."/b]
With that, Storn grabs the handle and tries to yank the door open.
Zarta, looking to Boomkin, explains, “A servant is greatly misbehaving. You’re going to have to deal with it in order to get the trinket - though you didn't ask, the silly little thing should be obvious, even to such as yourselves.” 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 with a sly grin. "Now, I'll wait here and let the big, strong - and so so very serious - men 'face the unknown' she says, rolling her eyes a bit at the last.
As you open the double doors, you see Zarta’s bedroom, 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 north 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 (or perhaps even notice) your arrival.
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.
Imps can turn invisible at will, and can also change shape into boars, rats, ravens, or giant spiders.
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"Keep that dagger close at hand," Tromos whispers to whomever happens to be carrying it, "we may need it to pierce this imp's hide should he not respond to peaceful negotiation."
"Herman, be careful with the door. He may try to vanish or shapechange and escape. Though if it is bound to the paracontess..." he thinks for a moment. "It might not venture far."
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Xeno taps her rapier in magical glow. A devil, without silver I'll be useless and in the corner only a couple of us can get at it.
"Oh it's only an Imp, we used to have an infestation of them in the basement. Until father had them caught." She switches seamlessly into foul sounding language [spoiler=Infernal"And had them cooked with a plum sauce."[[/spoiler]
She readies to attack if the imp comes in range.
The imp has been cursing the entire time in Infernal, which might even hurt if you weren't a tiefling... As is, perhaps you just add a few words of import to your vocabulary. At the mention of "plum sauce" ...
The imp stops its rampage for a moment as if considering something, then, disturbingly, licks its bony, twisting lips with a long forked tongue.
At one point the imp, tossing the cube at the ceiling, causes the metal chest to come down upon the group!
Amaruu deftly dodges the falling chest which lands with the loud clang of metal on flagstone, leaving a powdered dent in the flagstone at his feet.
Able to look at it more closely, the chest is of obviously ... strange ... manufacture and has no less than seven locks built into it.
As it comes close enough, Xeno gives a quick thrust at the devil with her rapier, but her powerful strike misses the small, agile creature.
Amaruu strikes at it with his silvered mace as the creature aims to retrieve the chest, and gives it a two-handed, sickening smack that sends it tumbling off through the air.
Tromos lobs his percolating vial over the heads of his friends at just slightly too sharp of an angle, hitting the ceiling and creating a brilliant splash of orange fire against the stone. Luckily, it is stone and, also luckily, the height of the explosion causes the flaming liquid to burn out harmlessly before igniting the Paracountess's bed.
Oddly, the little devil just giggles as if the flames were tickling it...
Storn rushes in to just below the creature - the only place he can reach it - and swings, but it is just too small and fast, fluttering around the sword. The sword makes a mighty *clang* against the stone to rival his mighty cry.
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"An imp, eh, I was wondering what I was going to rhyme with gimp...let's see if we can give you a limp."
Not much use in any combat situation, Herman is even less useful here. Instead he'll go examine the chest and it's many locks to see if there's anything useful or important here.
"I know this is an imp which is sometimes a pet, I wonder could this be it's cage?"
The box is baffling to Herman, who hasn't seen or heard of anything like it. Whatever it is, it was designed very well to keep something out (or something in...).
Amaruu moves deftly, but his leap and swing are awkward, missing both the imp and the large hairy man.