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While Zavubak puffs away on another coffin nail, Myrd again considers the nature of the Wightir Conjunction. Ptehp might be right. If only someone in the party could pursue the fetchling into the Plane of Shadow after the device were destroyed, which would quite possibly end the connection between the two planes. And knew where the fetchling might go. And could bring the party with him. And could get everyone back to the Material Plane...
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"Somebody even worse than Uthil Mak? Obviously, I can't let somebody described like this to get away." the White Owl narrows his eyes.
Gweld leads the group back into the shadowy museum and approaches the door leading west from the corridor.
"So, are we all ready?" he asks after downing another couple of flasks.
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You know you're up against two foes now, Time and this bomb-chucker Mazzel Gol the Blakros twins want you to put down. Drandle Drang picked himself some stone-cold killers, you've got this. Easy Peasy Lemon Squeezy, right?
You head back into the uncanny dual planes of this world and Shadow. You pass the scattered bones of the skeletal dragon and reenter the long corridor. You see the signs over the door you left unopened earlier. The bright lettering reads “Treasures of Distant Goka,” while a shadowy sign occupying the same space reads in dark, block letters “Cold Storage—Perishable Specimens Only.” The door's exterior is cool to the touch, but not so cold as to harm you.
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Dozens of mannequins dominate this room, each decorated in the trappings of distant Tian Xia. Ceremonial armor of samurai from Minkai and the silk gowns of courtly ladies catch the eye, but the delicate tea sets in long glass display cases seem out of place next to the strange shadowy figures leaning against the fan-decorated walls. Humanoid bodies encased in ice stand scattered throughout the room, and a glaze of dark rime covers the floor.
The floor of the cold storage room is covered in frost, and is dangerously
slippery.
Hanging from a hook just inside the door is a foot-long baton.
Across the room from the door, Gweld spots a stationary figure sculpted of ice standing a head taller than a normal human. A rime of frost coats its surface, and razor-sharp shards of ice adorn its limbs. It does not stir when the door is opened.
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"Hmmm... I recognize that thing. It's an ice golem, and I'm betting that it's going to react as soon as we get a little closer to it," Zavubak says, preparing to focus his rage. He steps ahead and his foot slips up, but he catches himself before falling, and he grimaces angrily in embarrassment. "Ugh. It's freezing in here. And slippery. I'm not one to complain, but I'm wishing I'd brought one of those toasty boar cloaks back from the Twinhorns' Camp."
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"This is not the fetchling we are looking for", says Ptehp. "But I imagine we need to move through this room to get to the other one or ones?"
Ptehp voices a brief prayer: "Mistress of the Beautiful House, protect your servant", before stepping into the room, moving slowly and steadily so as not slip and fall.
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Gweld opens the door and peers into the darkness, but he sees little within the room from the dim light of Myrd's ioun torch.
Zavubak takes a look and spots the ice golem across the room, standing stationary against the far wall.
Ptehp invokes his protection blessing and moves into the room.
The sentinel animates, eyes glowing, its security zone penetrated by an intruder.
Gweld the White Owl
Myrd Sharpclaw
Zavubak
Ptehp
Honey & Tera
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Cold Storage Sentinel
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Ptehp manages to carefully clnk, clank and clonk across the ice without slipping.
He moves up and to the side, so as to leave access to the big icy thing.
The Warpriest cracks his whip at the beast, deciding that this way he will know if there is damage resistance or not: Hands on knowledge, not theory.
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Myrd recalls the vulnerabilities and resistances of ice golems. They're vulnerable to fire. They have damage reduction that adamantine weapons can bypass. They possess the usual construct traits. They're immune to cold energy damage. They also possess
• A magical attack that deals electricity damage slows an ice golem (as the slow spell) for 2d6 rounds, with no saving throw.
• A magical attack that deals cold damage breaks any slow effect on the golem and heals 1 point of damage for every 3 points of damage the attack would otherwise deal. If the amount of healing would cause the golem to exceed its full normal hit points, it gains any excess as temporary hit points. An ice golem gets no saving throw against cold effects.
Myrd blasts the Cold Storage Sentinel with a searing beam of fire. The chiseled figure of ice and snow melts from the gaping hole in its torso.
Ptehp cracks his scorpion whip, and the lash leaves a mark across the construct's shoulder, not quite the vicious wound the half-orc had expected.
Honey loses her footing on the slick floor, but she recovers without falling.
Tera's claws dig into the ice, and she rushes the sentinel. Flanking the creature with Gweld, her bite sinks into its calf. Her jaws ache with the effort to penetrate its frozen skin. The incredible cold wounds the wolf, but not before she trips the golem.
The ice golem, 7 feet tall and weighing some 500 pounds, sprawls upon the floor of the cold storage room.
Gweld the White Owl
Myrd Sharpclaw
Zavubak
Ptehp
Honey
Tera
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Cold Storage Sentinel
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Prone on floor of the cold storage room, the ice golem opens its frozen maw and exhales a 20 foot cone of cold that covers Tera and Ptehp but avoids damaging any of the room's precious contents. It moves with the sound of cracking and popping ice, as it regains its feet.
Gweld the White Owl
Myrd Sharpclaw
Zavubak
Ptehp
Honey
Tera
---
Cold Storage Sentinel
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Gweld slides into position behind the creature. Gweld watches the towering construct fall. Gweld takes a split second to regain his footing on the slippery floor.
A wave of cold radiates from the fallen enemy. It reminds Gweld of the Winter Wolves the witches sent at his village back in the day. He realizes very well that an unnatural chill touching him now, making his bones ache of cold, is barely a phantom of what must have struck the ones it was aimed at.
"You foul creature..." Gweld breathes out a cloud of steamy breath and slices the rising construct over the head.
The blow barely chips the creature's head. In any case, Gweld has doubts that it even needs its head to function. He waits for it to stand up, patiently watching the icy joints cringe.
And than he swings again, aiming at one of these joins.
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Gweld and Tera strike the golem as it starts to rise. Again, the construct's icy skin freezes the soft tissue around Tera's snarling muzzle.
After the Cold Storage Sentinel rises, Gweld slashes it again. Tera's numb jaws miss his target, but Ptehp's whip paints another stripe across the construct.
Honey enters the room and joins her wolf companion.
Gweld the White Owl
Myrd Sharpclaw
Zavubak
Ptehp
Honey
Tera
---
Cold Storage Sentinel
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Zavubak moves up to the ice golem, and Myrd enters the Cold Storage Room.
The sentinel's lower jaw opens, ready to exhale another cone of icy death. Its head pivots left and right, but its command protocol does not permit it to harm the precious objects in the room.
The construct swings its mighty fists, slamming them into Zavubak like Rocky in the meat packing plant. That dull snapping sound might be several half-orc ribs cracking.
Gweld the White Owl
Myrd Sharpclaw
Zavubak
Ptehp
Honey
Tera
---
Cold Storage Sentinel
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Honey swings her enchanted scythe around and upends the ice golem.
Having studied his target, Gweld brings his longsword down in a powerful blow.
Zavubak's ensorcelled manicure rakes through the freezing skin of the construct. His fingers go numb from the contact. He pulls his second punch, because it's no longer necessary.
The party now includes a number of walking wounded.
You examine the frozen human forms in Wightir House’s cold storage room. You find a grisly display of partially dissected humanoids and half-completed biological experiments from the Material Plane. Each specimen is frozen in several inches of hard ice. Many have a rictus of pain and fear solidified on their cold, blue faces, and all of them have an identical black rune branded onto their foreheads.
Among the Tian relics, you find an exquisite ceremonial tea set from Minkai. You also locate a suit of masterwork parade armor in the samurai style, a masterwork orc double axe with blades shaped like strange dragons’ heads, and a masterwork composite short bow used by the mounted archers of the eastern steppes.
You also examine the baton hanging by the door through which you entered.
In the northwest corner of the room is another door. There's a bronze plaque on the door that reads "Offices" on the Material Plane and "Alchemedical Laboratory" on the Shadow Plane.
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Gweld kicks the pile of ice that was a construct mere seconds ago.
"Let us not dally long," he hisses at his companions, turning towards the door into the caretaker's office. The cavalier of Flame is too pumped by the adrenalin, the mutagen and all the toxic extracts to show any kind of restraint or carefulness.
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Calming himself, Zavubak pulls a strange looking elongated cigar from his pack and tosses it to Pteph. "Please, do you mind tapping me with this a few times?"
After his wounds close up, Zav follows Gweld into the office. "I could try to move those teacups, but you can all guess what might happen. Never really been one for tiny, precise movements, man."
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"The armor and bow carry some minor enchantments, we should bring them with us. I will retrieve the tea set from my home country when we move out again. If anyone needs healing, I have this wand that slowly recuperates you. The use of devil's blood in it might make you uncomfortable for a bit, the choice is yours. Shall we move on?"
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Gweld enters the offices/alchmedical laboratory, followed by Zavubak.
A few desks, three chests, and a standing cabinet are here along a wall facing the West Exhibit Hall made of smoky glass. Fading in and out of vision, the shadowy form of a slablike table holding an unconscious, vivisected human man, his chest rising slowly with each breath, is superimposed over the southernmost desk. Medical implements and alchemical devices are spread across nearly every surface, some more substantial in form than others.
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Gweld waits for Myrd, his beacon of light in this gloomy place, to catch up, before following Ptehp. The cavalier has a hard time deciding in favor of playing it safe instead of gloriously venturing forward into the dark.
"Be careful." he whispers to a pair of half-orcs disappearing in the dark. "If my calculations are right, this alchemist has nowhere to hide but this office and the room the hound is thrashing."
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Tera by her side, Honey casts a spell giving her the strength of a bull and opens the door to the offices/alchemedical laboratory.
Ptehp blesses himself with some protection and boldly enters the room. His half-orc eyes scan the dark room. Zavubak follows Ptehp into the room and looks around as well.
Gweld waits for Myrd to move up with his light, so he can see. Myrd's cautious, in no hurry to get himself killed.
Ptehp and Zavubak make a cursory search of the room. The three chests and the cabinet are locked. They head over to the table to check out the vivisected human. They're shocked the man is still alive, barely, and unconscious. He lays splayed on the operating table, his lower torso dissected and his skin held open and taut with large clamps. His forehead sports a dark rune tattoo that seems to suck the ambient light toward it.