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"It depends," Zithembe says. "If access to the prison is guarded by one will and that will can be bent, then we bypass those forces aligned against us outside the prison whose attention we might otherwise attract by assault. If there are many wills and they cannot be persuaded, then we will have a long battle. However, until we see how the board is laid, any strategy is as good or poor as another."
Opting for a more direct approach, you decide to simply knock on the front door and see if you can somehow smooth-talk or possibly enchant your way inside.
As Zithembe raps on the steel door the sound is heavy and loud. From the other side, silence stretches out for several long seconds until you finally hear the sounds of rattling and scraping on the other side. The porthole opens to reveal the face of an ice mephit. He peers out at you and blinks peevishly.
"'Ello? Whaddya want?"
"Yeah, yeah, and we don't serve that kinda stuff here anyway," the mephit nods, looking mildly annoyed as well as mildly confused at all the big words Zithembe rattles off. He scrunches up his face and you can almost see the gears slowly sputtering and turning in his brain. Finally, understanding dawns in the mephit's eyes.
"Oh! So, you want the ice, eh? We do serve that kinda stuff here, so sure, come on in..."
The porthole slams closed and after a little more rattling on the other side, the door swings open and a blast of frigid air washes over you. The mephit beckons you inside and then shuts the door behind you before turning and fluttering towards the bar on the far side of the main area of the saloon. Several large blocks of ice hang suspended from the ceiling above and you can see even more sitting inside what appear to be storage rooms just off the saloon's main area. The place is empty except for you, the ice mephit that let you inside, and another ice mephit that seems to be busing tables over in the corner.
Wait, that's not quite right.
Someone else is here too, frozen in a huge block of ice that hangs suspended in the center of the room, just above a hole in the floor that looks to lead out into nothing but open air. Though you can't clearly make out their features, you can see that whoever it is possesses bright, coppery red hair.
It has to be Jamila. The ice block that she's encased in looks thick and shows no signs of melting. In fact, the environment inside the saloon makes for a perfect storage place for such a thing...though it's much less hospitable for you.
The sound of a nearby door slamming alerts you as a large, lumbering creature with bright blue-green skin and cold, piercing eyes steps out of what seems to be an office. Dressed in rough furs, his tusked jaw juts forth in a long underbite.
<"You! Are you the ones I've been waiting for? It took you long enough to get here,"> the creature growls as Falren once more serves as interpreter.
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Uh-oh. Better speak up Effie, if you want to get Jamila out of there peacefully. Looks like an opportunity.
"Yeah, well we're here now. Had to deal with an unwanted tail on the way. Let's get down to business. No cause for further delay. Besides, it's too damn cold in here!"
Effie gestures towards the office. "Shall we?"
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Damn it's cold. Like a winter night up in Hongal. Or just a regular day on the Crown. Wonder if shiftin' into tiger form just for the fur coat would be better.
Do not waste my gift for your comfort, fool! Are you such a kitten that you cannot handle a little cold?
"Hrrmm. Whatever," Holan-Ji mutters beneath his breath in response to the inner dialog with his tiger god. Chastened, he folds his arms across his chest to make himself look the part of the muscle. Not to keep himself warm. Certainly not. He's not pouting, and he's no kitten, after all.
(Well, at least not most of the time.)
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Zithembe touches the bronze cuffs on his wrists together, and his clothes shift into the seal fur clothes of the Eretuki people. He then reaches to his belt and slowly retrieves a scroll while stating, "This next part will go more smoothly if we can communicate directly." He gestures to Falren to interpret this. "With your permission, I will grant you the ability to speak directly with each of us."
You recognize that you're dealing with an ice troll. Ice trolls are somewhat smaller than normal trolls, but they possess greater intelligence and cunning and are just as voraciously hungry.
As Falren interprets your words, the creature eyes the lot of you, thinking. He almost seems convinced by Effie's sheer enthusiasm...but not quite.
<"Getting down to business is good, very good,"> he nods. <"But Bitterbite was expecting air creatures...not landwalkers. Since when does the Duchess have landwalkers do her bidding?">
"Wow, guess I don't count then? A!$@@#%," Falren grumbles under her breath.
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Probably around the same time the Duchess allowed grunts like you-or me, for that matters-questioning her decisions. Pay is good. Air beings expect some air creatures to do her biddings, and keep an eye on them. Using mercenary landwalkers like us draw less suspicions, I suppose. Maybe she wnats people able to do grounded decisions, who knows? Who cares? We do what is asked from us, get payed for that, we don't ask too many questions and we don't need too many answers either.
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Maria's eyes open wide and she begins inspecting the iceblock, "Fascinating! Absolutely fascinating. How much harm is done to the transportee? I'd assume some, but if you are able to keep them alive that is just amazing. Some sort of flash-freeze process to prevent ice crystalization of the blood I assume? Can I see your... oh. I see, standoff or something. Uh... listen, we don't want any trouble. Just here for the package."
From what you can remember, ice trolls don't have any particular weaknesses. You also suspect that Bitterbite probably wouldn't appreciate being tickled, but you'll never know for certain until you try, right?
Bitterbite considers your words, though he seems to pay more attention to what Hepsubia and Maria have to say. Finally, he nods.
<"Fair enough. Beings like the Duchess work in strange ways. Long as you've paid the boss, it's not my job to question whatever else you do. The prisoner's yours.">
He glances over at the two mephits and bellows, <"You heard me! Get that block of ice down!">
The pair of mephits immediately jump to the task. Meanwhile, Bitterbite keeps one eye on the proceedings and one eye on you.
<"Yeah, flash-freezing does the trick,"> he replies to Maria's question. <"They thaw out nice and weak, too, so they're usually easy to handle."> He chuckles rather unpleasantly at this.
Given the rigging and setup it takes the mephits a few minutes but finally, the ice block is lowered to the saloon floor with a loud *THUMP*.
<"Alright, there's your prize,"> Bitterbite remarks with a rather dismissive wave of his hand, gesturing towards the door. <"Pleasure doing business with you. Give the Duchess our regards.">
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Maria pats Holan-Ji on the back, "But aren't those big muscles good for this kind of thing? We can rig something up I'm sure, that's why you all brought me, right? Can't be that hard."
Maria moves into the room and climbs atop the table nearest the block of ice to take a look at what the hell is supporting something this heavy.
Though it would be much easier to simply hack (or melt) Jamila free of the ice block right here, you realize that it might arouse the suspicions of Bitterbite if you did. Maria studies the setup and realizes that it's going to be a very tall order to simply waltz out of the Sleet Saloon with the block.
Luckily, Effie has an idea.
"...Huh? Oh! Oh, oh yeah, the, uh, the boat, right!" Falren blinks, caught a little off guard but then quickly catching on. "They should've been here by now! I'll go see what the hold-up is - and don't think I won't give them a piece of my mind, too!"
Falren scurries away...and after maybe half an hour or so - during which most of you have had to either step outside to warm up or dip into any available Endure Elements magics - finally returns, out of breath and sweating from having quite literally ran all over Port Eclipse.
"C-called in...a favor..." she wheezes. "Some old mates of mine...they should be here any moment now. D-don't worry...told 'em I'd...split my pay...so they'll not ask questions...or flap their jaws around town about this."
True to her word, a small airship soon comes gliding up and under the Sleet Saloon. Bitterbite's imps grumble and whine about having to resuspend the ice block and then lower it down again but a low growl from the ice troll quickly shuts them up and they get to work.
<"Damned imps don't have any sense. It's not every day you get to deal with the Duchess herself and the Coldfire King and his folks are gonna do her square,"> he mutters. <"Still, you oughta ditch these clowns if they can't even bother to show up on time,>" Bitterbite adds with a jerk of his thumb towards the waiting airship below.
You have no problem sidling up to Bitterbite and attempting to tickle him; he's too preoccupied with the other proceedings to even notice.
Yet instead of laughing, he sneezes!
Eventually though, you're able to collect your prize and put some distance between yourselves and the Sleet Saloon before the Duchess' real agents show up. You're able to use the relative privacy of the airship's hold to get to work on freeing Jamila from the ice and bringing her back around to consciousness. As her eyes flutter open, she blinks up at your faces with marked confusion...and then wariness.
"Who...who are you?" she croaks.
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"We are the Prophets, as you set us up to be," Zithembe says as the janni regains her senses. "Quite a bit has happened since you gave us the slip in the Osirian desert. Clever but dangerous to the tribes you tricked, so I cannot approve. However, we are now aligned on the same side. Ashasar sent us to retrieve the Horn--and you, if possible. We chose to save you first. Hopefully, that was the right choice."
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Winded from having done all the chopping (I mean, who else was gonna do it?)
"Ashahar mentioned you have a safe house here" Effie says to Jamila. "I think it would be a good idea to get you there as soon as possible. Hshurha's agents will find out soon enough that they've been had, and we'll have them and the Coldfire King on our tails."
+1 vs. traps, spell?
Jamila continues to eye the lot of you warily, though she's clearly in no condition to pick a fight right now. "This could be another elaborate trap, this time on the part of the Pathfinder Society..." the janni says, slowly, "...but in my experience, it's a bit...hit or miss...on whether the Society is clever enough to pull such a thing off. It largely depends on the agents they send."
"Still...while you have me at a disadvantage, you did free me from the Coldfire King's minions and for that, I thank you. Give me a few minutes to collect myself and I will show you to my safe house; we can speak further once we're there. As you probably suspect, I value the secrecy of such places so please try to keep a low profile on the way there."
Among the remnants of the chopped up and half-melted (by this point) ice block, you catch a glimmer of something sparkly.
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Holan-Ji rolls out of the bunk as the negotiations continue. "I'm gonna go find something to drink. We got all this ice, be a shame to let it go to waste." Wonder if I can find some liquor on this tub, make us some fun drinks. Wait. Would Z even drink a fun drink? I still don't know if that guy even eats, he thinks as he heads topside from the cargo hold.
He returns shortly with seven glasses, rum, and some kinda bubbly air-infused liquid. The big guy sets about chopping some of the ice into smaller, more manageable pieces, but as he does so something catches his eye.
"Hey, what's this?" he asks the smart folk as he holds up the ....
Holan-Ji scoops a necklace of spherical, sparkling orange beads out of the remnants of Jamila's ice block. Anyone who happens to check can easily see the magical aura that radiates from it.
"Hrm...whatever it is, it doesn't belong to me," Jamila remarks. "Likely something that fell off some other unfortunate prisoner."
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Did you know that, if you tickle an ice troll, it sneezes? At least it made Bitterbite sneeze. You can note it in your small book, Maria, it may be important for future generations of Pathfinders.
Having more important things to do, Lil" Hep help Holan ji to create cocktails-because OF COURSE she was a bartender, and more than once. And she's more than happy to improvise with total disregards for consequences: that's why "alchemists kindness" elixirs exist.
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The jade shabti holds his hand over the necklace in Holan-Ji's hand and concentrates silently. "I am not certain how to make it work, but it bears evocative magic."
He turns his attention back to Jamilla and taps the bronze bracers on his wrists together. His furred clothing shifts into an airy outfit of whites, blues, and greens accompanied by a pale, hooded cloak, which he lifts over his head.
"Maybe you can figure out what it is later," Falren shrugs and then gestures at Jamila. "Looks like your friend is ready to go."
The janni nods weakly. "Yes, let's get moving. I'm able to cloak myself from sight but the rest of you will need to move quietly or keep a low profile."
She waits until everyone seems ready to move and then, using her innate powers, cloaks herself in invisibility.
"Let's go. Follow my voice and try to keep up."
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Though there are a few missteps and stumbles along the way, most of the group has little trouble keeping up with the invisible janni and are able to help those of you with big tiger paws that find weaving in and out of alleyways while trying to be sneaky about it a little tricky.
After a short trek Jamila leads you to a squat structure that almost looks like a cave, nestled along the interior stone of Port Eclipse. You enter into a rather nondescript tavern common room, which seems to be mostly devoid of visitors; however you do see what appear to be three humanoid bee creatures quietly moving about and tending to things. Those of you who journeyed to Heaven previously recall that these creatures are known as thriae.
Jamila, who decloaks from her invisibility, greets the trio of thriae with a silent nod. One of them returns the nod before passing the janni a small key. Jamila beckons for you to follow, leading you to one of the rearmost rooms which is actually quite luxurious, with a large sitting area decorated with plump, comfortable pillows similar to what you enjoyed while staying with Jairo. There's also a small refreshment table and a tea set in a nearby corner.
"Please, make yourselves comfortable," Jamila nods, gesturing to the cushions and pillows. "I must confer with Ashasar before doing anything else."
She then taps a small section of wall, revealing a hidden alcove. From it she produces a scroll and then heads off to a smaller, private chamber, leaving you to your own devices. After a few minutes there's a soft knock at the door before one of the thriae enter, bearing a tray of delicate finger foods and several different flavors of tea bags to tide you over while you wait.
Roughly an hour after disappearing to her private chamber Jamila returns and settles herself on one of the cushions with a tired but satisfied expression. "I've spoken with Ashasar and he's reassured me that you're all 'on the level', as they say. With that being the case, I'm going to let you pick up where I left off and retrieve the Horn of the Hurricane in my stead."
"Normally I wouldn't just pawn off my assignments on others, but the fact of the matter is that I'm exhausted from being stuck in that block of ice," she continues with a sigh and a grimace. "And time is of the essence, so I'll have to trust this next and hopefully last part to you."
"Concordance agents have been tracking the horn for some time and we finally pinpointed it as being used as the centerpiece of a djinni noble's airship mast," Jamila explains. "A freak storm wrecked the vessel and the airship's remnants ended up in an airship junkyard here in Port Eclipse. Right before the Coldfire King's goons nabbed me I'd managed to come to an agreement with the junkyard's proprietor for permission to trawl the wreckage and search for the horn."
"As far as I know, the Duchess' agents still haven't realized the horn is here in Port Eclipse but that could change at any time. Go to the junkyard and find the horn. The whole thing is run by an awakened clockwork, of all things, and their sizable force of clockwork assistants. They won't bother you though, so long as you know the passphrase to get inside. All you need to do is speak the word 'balance' in Aquan, Auran, Ignan, and then Terran - in that order. Once you do that, you'll have unfettered access to the junkyard's interior."
"Yes, I don't think that will be a problem," Jamila replies. She spends the next several minutes teaching you the require passphrase and having you repeat it until she's satisfied with your pronunciation and inflection of the words.
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With little else to do at this point but proceed onward, you head out to the airship junkyard; Falren has no trouble leading you there based on Jamila's description of the place.
And junkyard really is an accurate description of the place. Pieces of airships are lashed to assorted metal pylons that float in the air at regular intervals. Smaller scraps are secured with cargo netting, or tethered like garbage kites, onto these pylons. Flying clockwork creatures resembling crabs with various construction appendages, maneuver around the area. Several humanoid clockworks mill about, picking up and maneuvering pieces too large for their smaller kin to handle.
Upon your entrance, one of the smaller clockworks dislodges itself from a pile of junk and flies over to greet you.
"Gree-tings. Pass-word?"
Maria steps up and expertly repeats the words to the passphrase that Jamila taught you. The clockwork makes a cheerful chime in response.
"Cor-rect. How may I a-ssist you to-day?"