Murqual and his thin assistant both nod and bow respectively as the pathfinders leave.
"Please do be sure to tell us every detail when you return! I... ah, and my master do enjoy a good story!" The thin man calls out after them as they walk out the door.
The group makes their way in the waning hours of the day through the city filled with sandstone buildings and a multitude of colorful tents. The streets are narrow and dirty, much like what you would expect from a city with so many people and where trade and coin are king. Down one alley the pathfinders can hear a conversation in the distance. Six heavily armed men, all wearing identical armor, weapons, and uniforms are gathered around one of the stalls. A greasy haired man with tattered and dirty clothing is bound in the middle of the group, his hand strapped to a wooden block.
"For thievery, apprehended and proved beyond all doubt, you are hearby judged!" one of the armored men shouts. He appears to have some rank, or command over the other five men. Unceremonious and swift, a scimitar arcs out of the air, chopping the man's hand off quickly. He screams in pain, reaching for his bloody stump.
Suddenly a small boy appears in front of them, looking at the grisly scene, then back at the pathfinders who stand, some in shock. "Thats the Zephyr Guard. They is some baaaa mutha..."
shut yo mouth A voice cuts through the darkness out of nowhere.
"But I'm talking about the Zephyr Guard! Stole a diamond 'e did. Stupid, really. Everyone knows what happens when you get caught. Thats why you don't get caught." With a toothless smile, the boy raises his eyebrows and suddenly darts into the shadows before the pathfinders can say a word or react. Eventually, they shake their heads and move on.
By night, the streets of the Twilight Gate district are mostly empty. The courtyard surrounding the Ruined Monastery, a popular tourist attraction by day, is even more deserted than the surrounding streets. Perhaps this is what made it the choice location for Murqual’s gnoll “distributors,” or perhaps the gnolls feel comfortable in the shadow of this former home to Lamashtu’s faithful. In either case, the shadows lie thick underneath these crumbling walls.
The pathfinders mosy in to the courtyard with the cart that Murqual provided them, pulled by a mopey looking donkey. When the group perused the cart earlier, they found that it contained mostly trade goods, cloth and liquor.
Bugdip, as Murqual's favored customer, was also given two sacks of 100 gold each as additional "payment" if the gnolls proved recalcitrant.
Across the courtyard, the pathfinders see that the gnolls are already waiting for them. Three of the hyena looking creatures are milling about, looking very impatient. When the group walks up, one of them steps forward and speaks in hisses and growls.
"E kore e koe te hunga te tikanga e tuku Murqual ! He aha tenei ? He tatūnga ? He te kotahi anake kaihe ? E titau e ia te iwi ki te hemokai?"
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"We don't speak gnollish," Budgip says apologetically in Taldane, "We were recruited by Murqual at the last minute and unfortunately, we are not as good with languages as... well, whoever it is you usually deal with. I do speak Grippli and a smattering of Dwarven if that helps...? No, I don't suppose it does. In any case, the great Murqual does apologize for the inferiority of this crew, and that is why he has instructed us to pay the full amount, as agreed, with no negotiation.
"Isn't that wonderful? You get everything you asked for." Bugdip hopes the gnolls see this as a boon, and not as a slight. He hopes and hopes and hopes.
Bugdip also hopes his friends will help him out.
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Voratha bows low before the crowd of gnolls.
"I am Vorathan Albercoft and as my fine green friend has said, we have been sent by Murqual in order to provide you with a fine supply of golden pieces.
"Еді оңай түсіну, егер біз айттық гномов?"
The dwarvish words were chosen to see if anyone was able to decipher the tongue, and as he spoke them he carefully eyed the gathering to see if anyone showed signs of understanding.
"Менің болуға аудармашы ретінде, егер сізге ұнайды."
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"Aye," the youth adds in Common, stepping to Bugdip's side. He takes a moment to adjust his scarf and with a pinch, traces two fingers along the brim of his hat. "We will be your trading partners this evening, conducted on behalf of one, Master Murqual."
"I do apologize that we are not able to converse with you in your own, eloquent tongue," Edgar explains, adjust his posture so the slender rapier at his side is evident, though this stance is clearly not meant to be a threatening gesture. "We are pleased to meet you, and conduct our business together. And, I add, we feel woefully unprepared having to ask you to use the courtesy of speaking in common."
"I implore you, please do not take our unpreparedness in any way as an insult," he smiles, though only his eyes flash brilliantly and convey his honest charm. "Now, shall we conduct our business together, my friends?"
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Glarifyur slides his shield straps across his left arm and grips the handle gingerly. He lazily rests his right hand upon the pommel of the short sword that is securely strapped to his right hip. He takes a casual stance and then smiles warmly.
"Come now, lads. We do not wish for any trouble. Let's see that parcel and we will be off; no worse for the wear."
Glarifyur's demeanor is disarmingly cordial and polite; not at all the sour, gruff attitude he sometimes displays.
I hope this seems genuine enough. I'd really dislike spilling these creatures' blood if it is not necessary...
All three gnolls step forward menacingly, un-intimidated by the honeyed words of the pathfinders.
"Fine, we speak common. I say for you again, You aren't the ones Murqual usually sends. This feels like set-up."
All three gnolls begin to inspect the cart, picking things up and sniffing around.
They begin to shout and argue in gnollish, with the female translating occasionally.
"Why there is only one donkey? Does Murqual expect tribe to starve?"
"There is moths in sheets! Who he think we are?"
"This liquor smell like cat piss! We tell him we no like Chelish Red!"
The grumbling continues on for a few minutes, but the soft words and smooth tongue of the gathered group eventually calm the gnolls down.
"Fine. Agreed price. We take cart. You take crate."
With that, the gnolls grab the reins of the doomed donkey and begin to lead it away, snarling and snapping at each other as they go. The crate they stood in front of remains on the ground where they were, and within moments, the pathfinders are alone.
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"Well that was...simple..enough?"
A look of befuddlement is across Vorathan's face as he watches the trio of tiny terribles head off seemingly content.
"Do we look to see if the crate has something in it or take it at face value that we have nay been swindled? At least now, Bugdip, you have two more sacks of gold to bargain with your jolly ol pal to see if he will loose the Archive without us having to gamble our souls away, never hurts to ask."
Vorathan approaches the crate and gives it a slight nudge with his boot as if to determine its mass, then looks at the others in the group awaiting council.
And which of us lucky buggers is to have this load to bare all the way back to the shop...I though that's what the cart and mule was for, not a nosh for the gnolls!
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"Wow! I guess we are great at negotiating," Bugdip marvels with a whistle... through his nostrils, "Let's grab this crate and take it back to Murqual. Maybe he'll reward us, but I think we should give him back the extra gold. In any case, I don't fancy negotiating with our very lifespans while we have this crate in tow."
He grabs one side and lifts with all his might. His frog-like muscles bulge as he tries his hardest to lift with his more powerful legs. With Bugdip's arms shaking madly from the strain, the crate rises barely an inch from the ground before slamming back down.
"A... little... help?" asks the out-of-breath grippli.
The pathfinders gather up the crate with some effort, the others quickly coming to Bugdip's aid. Vorathan cannot help his curiosity and finds out that even though someone told him curiosity killed the cat, that this time it just revealed one. Or two of them to be exact. Two small katapeshi white lion cubs sleep soundly, peacefully in the crate, curled up with each other like a living representation of the yin yang symbol.
The pathfinders make their way back through the dusk to Murqual's shop where the thin and fat man sit.
"My master's servants told us they saw you coming back. He is so pleased to see the conversation with the gnolls went well. How much extra gold did it cost you, if I may ask? Please, tell us all about it!"
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Nugats returns to the group, lacing up his britches. "Man, sometimes when you piss it just feels like you are never going to finish. So when do you think those smelly, hairy, stupid, gnolls are going to show up? I know we are in for a fight! Can't wait to drop some rocks on those idiots.
"Where's the jackass?" Nugats looks around in confused wonder, not seeing the cart, but seeing a crate.
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"Well, we managed to convince the gnolls they were lucky to be just getting the full amount instead of being bartered down," Bugdip grins, truly proud of himself, "And... well, they did not require any of the additional funds. Here's your extra gold back. Maybe now you can avoid paying their 'gnoll' tax for future transactions!"
The grippli tries not to gloat, but completely misses that some of the Pathfinders may have preferred to keep the extra gold for themselves. Guile is not his thing... and as such, is a little worried about the potential to gamble away their literal lives.
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A Burro Burrito could be good...
"I am not to sure that's on the menu there Bugdip. Hey, try this phrase out:
Мен сіздің артқы төрттен еніп аудандарға тұман бұрын маған ЗТБ басқа үйірме беріңіз !
I think that will translate right..."
The two contemplate more and more choice phrases in dwarven and in English ranging from the simple 'may I buy you a drink' to the more fun 'you best get out of my face or else,' sayings. After a while, the Grippli seems to have a fairly good grasp of the language and it's his imagination that's the only limit.
The fat man claps again in what is becoming a normal routine when conversing with Murqual. He flashes his fingers and spins his hands and arms, and the thin man translates shortly after.
"Well done! Master Murqual is most grateful at your excellent negotiating skills. My master says he knew you would be perfect for that job. That also leaves my master no doubt as to your acquisition of the mirror for him as well. Thank you for your care in delivering our delicate package as well. I look forward to your triumphant return with the mirror."
The pathfinders make their way out of the shop and begin another relatively short walk to their next stop. Located in the shadow of Nethys’s temple, this higher end shop emanates scents of perfumes, medicines, and the dusky tang of alchemical experiments from behind a beaded doorway. The front of the store has shelves for the casual shopper, with scented oils and colognes in faceted bottles on delicate shelves. Further back, more solid looking containers under locked glass offer alchemical wares of the more adventurous and martial varieties. A marble counter blocks off the very back of the shop, where a bell sits beside an alembic bubbling away with a cerulean liquid. Behind the counter, another beaded curtain leads deeper.
A young woman can be seen cleaning shelves, wiping jars and in general tidying the place up. When the pathfinders enter, she turns politely with her hands clasped behind her back. She bows slightly before speaking. "Welcome to Madame Jelaris' alchemical sundries and delights. How may I help you?" she says in a quiet and reserved voice. She adjusts the glasses on her face and favors the group with a polite smile.
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Upon leaving the merry musings of Master Murqual, the group finds itself on task once again in another shop of wares most interesting.
Now this is more to my liking, no cages, no chains and if I didn't already know there was a game that would potentially steal my life in the back, I would say I would be right at home here...ooo! I wonder if they have any eud du twalet here...
Before Vorathan's curiosity gots the better of him, the group approaches a lovely window eyed lass dusting, who pauses and with an most alluring smile, bids them welcome.
"Greetings my dear, Vorathan Albercoft is my name and it is certain, that as wonderful as your perfume is, you are indeed in the business of delights. Care to provide me details on any special offers currently available?"
The young woman stifles a giggle at Vorathan's attention, covering her mouth with her hand. Her cheeks flush red as her eyes look down to the floor. Bringing her hand up to pull the strands of hair back from her face and tuck them behind her ear.
"No specials, sir. Madame Jelaris' goods are of the highest quality. She doesn't need to cut prices like some of the hacks out in the bazaar. Is there anything in specific you are looking for?"
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The youth leans in close to the woman, tipping the brim of his hat to greet her. "Well, I have a slight problem I was hoping Madame Jelaris could help with..."
Now Edgar leans in closer still, but pauses to look around the shop to be sure no one beside the young woman, save his companions, can hear his words. "I've always felt older than my years... like an old man trapped in a young man's body... as it were."
He waits a moment, making sure his strange comment is fully grasped.
"I've also been known to gamble a bit here and there."
He straightens his posture now, and adjusts the scarf around his face. "Is there anything Madame Jelaris could do to help with either, or both, of my problems?"
The young lady screws up her nose in confusion as Edgar attempts to be coy and secretive with his words and innuendo.
"Aaaaahhh.... Let me just go get Madame Jelaris for you. I'm sorry, I just clean up around here, I don't really know anything..." She bows politely again, disappearing behind an ornate beaded curtain. Moments later a stocky, handsome, and fashionable Chelish woman in her later years appears. She looks the assembled group over with mild amusement.
"I apologize for my assistant. She doesn't do well with subtle hints. Actually, I must apologize for myself, as neither do I. She mentioned something about you feeling older than your years? Well for the good of science, I might be able to arrange your actual years to match up with how you feel." the woman flashes a bemused smile that is charming and unsettling at the same time.
"Now, what, specifically, can I help you with?"
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"Madame Jaleris I presume, it is an honor to make your acquaintance. My name is Vorathan Albercoft. My companions and I have been talking with a Master Marqual who mentioned there is a "reflective" item in your possession and he is most interested in acquiring it. As my friend Rattus has subtly eluded to, we understand the type of price you require but are also possibly interested in sweetening the deal over a gamble or two. Perhaps we can make some accord that is as agreeable as your smile?"
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Nugats come in last of all the pathfinders, trying to be inconspicuous, but having a hard time as he did something a little different with his hair.
This slicked back looks really works for me. That woman with the glasses couldn't take her eyes off of me.
Walking forward and bowing slightly, Nugats stands beside Vorathan. He produces a deck of cards, and begins to fan them from one hand to the other, before putting them away except for a single card, which he begins to twirl from finger to finger. To the others it appears as if the card was floating across his hand, back and forth, back and forth.
Yes Madame, my human friend speaks truly. We were told you liked to partake in games of chance. That might be something we would be interested in. Possible mind you.
"But where are my manners, Nugats, dwarf of the Five Kings Mountains at your service my lady."
He ends by flashing her a toothy grin.
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"Hello there!" Bugdip bows deeply, "You may recognize me as the one who smells ever so faintly of dragonfly purée, but most humans tend to call me 'Bugdip'." Bugdip seems unused to being the one to introduce himself.
"Umm... and it's not just games of chance we're interested in. Mister Murk-Well sent us here to pay you for mirror he likes, using our lives. However, we don't much like the prospect of losing our remaining years in the service of a merchant, so we were thinking maybe we could lose - or win - them in a game of chance with you? Erm... at the risk of losing more, I guess." The grippli nervously wrings his hands as he explains the situation.
"Pathfinders tend to die before their time is up anyway, right?" he tries - and fails - to reassure himself.
"Is there another way we could help you develop this sun orchid elixir without sacrificing our lives?" Bugdip asks hopefully, "The Pathfinder Society is possessed of excellent resources."
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Bah, all this talking and no action is making me anxious.
Glarifyur takes the guard role once more and positions himself just outside the bulk of the party.
"If there be no barterin' with a different currency than our life essense, then let's be done with it."
Glarifyur's mood clearly soured, he shifts uncomfortably as he awaits the next words from the alchemist.
It is my job to protect myself and my companions, but there is no protection I can provide for this. We will toss some cubes and likely succumb to an action that I cannot help but think of as "suicide by increments". What kind of person would do this?
"Ha. Haha. Hahahahaha!" The woman lets out a slow chuckle that turns into a genuine laugh of amusement. "Honestly, I set a high price for Palhuna because I didn't especially want to sell the mirror, and thought he'd never pay for it. If he's found a way around that and you're willing... well, who am I to refuse?" She addresses each of the pathfinders in turn as she speaks, confidently looking each of them in the eyes.
"The process of taking your years, well, it doesn't actually age you. It's not as though time goes faster, but it does prematurely wear down your body by a few years. I simply insert a tube down your throat extracting an essence from your lungs."
At this point, Madame Jelaris gets a little gleam in her eyes and flashes a wink at Vorathan and Nugats. "Though if you are willing to play a game of chance, I am certainly willing to see if I can add even more years to my research." The woman giggles a little with a smile that is both disarming and unnerving at the same time.
Glarifyur affects the normal dour disposition of most dwarves and casts a minor spell of caution. Madame Jelaris gives the armored dwarf a pouty face as he does. "Feel better?" she asks him when he is finished.
"If you are satisfied, and still wish to gamble with your life essense, then please, follow me." she says with a sultry, low voice and a sly grin on her face. She saunters through the beaded curtain, beckoning the group to follow while swaying her hips just so for the flirtatious men in the group.
The group follows her back into a comfortable parlor in the rear of the store. She invites them to sit down around a simple, felt covered table, and then hands around a small box of ivory dice.
After inspecting the dice, Madame Jelaris lays out the rules. "I will hold 20 tokens here, and I will give the six of you 20 tokens total, which you may split however you like. You may buy a die to roll with one of your tokens. For each roll that beats mine, I will give you 2 tokens in return. For each roll that is lower than mine, I will keep your token. If we tie, I simply return your token to you. You may stop at any time. However many tokens I have when you all decide to stop is how many years I will extract from you, and you may split that however you choose. Any questions?" She asks with a smile.
"No, Bugdip, I am afraid there isn't a different way. My research is groundbreaking and revolutionary, and I have made great strides when I am able to gather years from those who are willing to pay the cost. But it is the only way to move my research forward. I do appreciate your concern for my work though." she says with a genuine smile.
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"Umm... how many tokens do you start with?" Bugdip asks, "Because if it's none... let's just stop now." Bugdip looks at the set up of the table and counts.
"Okay, let's roll. Two for me, please," says the grippli when he is satisfied the game is fair, sliding over the requisite tokens.
"Wow... I don't think I can do better than that..." he notes as the die rests on a decidedly spectacular number. He picks it up again and rolls it carefully.
"Oh, that is pretty good also, isn't it?" he asks, only a little smugly.
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"To gamble away our bodies and souls? The stakes are indeed high. But what are a few years to men, who look death eye to eye every day. Pharasma will be collecting far before it is the weight of years that push us down."
Tybain is amused of this turn of events, but is happy to let Nugats and Vorathan do the gambling.
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Nugats speaks in clear voice, no hesitation, no fear. "I'll take 9 chips."
Grabbing one, he spins it across his palms before placing it on the table.
9 years. What would I do in 9 years? How many times would some fair lass slap my face, how many mugs of ale will I share with my fine new friends? It is worth it to risk it? To get a mirror for some fat, uncaring bastard to retrieve a chest destined to sit in the basement of some forgotten lodge, or worse in the basement of the infernal Blakros museum, doing nothing. I guess this is what a pathfinder does. Risks their life to make 'life better'. Time to roll the bones.
Cupping the dice in his small hands, he gives them a bit of a shake by his ear. Just before opening his hands and letting the clatter of dice fill the room as they spill out, he twists his wrist ever so slightly to tip rather than roll the last few, hoping to flop it down with the '20' showing.
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Having discussed the matter at hand of who is to roll and for what, Vorathan takes the remaining 9 dice up in a cup and give a silent moment of reflection.
Guess this game qualifies as a gamble for ones life.
He then tosses out the dice and finishes with a quick wave of his hand.
"Well, would you look a that! Bugdip you are a natural!"
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"Can you feel it?" the middle-aged woman smiles as she rolls the die around in her hand, then bringing it slowly to her lips.
"Can you feel the tension? This is what gambling is about. When all the chip are in the center of the table. When the die is bouncing on the table. That moment just before it rolls to a stop when the mystery and intrigue is at its highest. You could win it all, you could lose it all. That's livin boys."
With a good luck whisper on her ivory die and a wink to the flirtatious Vorathan, she lets the trinket roll off her fingers, clinking and bouncing on the table before gently rolling to a stop.
Her smile turns into a crestfallen look as her shoulders sag. The frown is slowly replaced with a grimace, and a determined look on her face.
During her sultry performance, and her mental undressing of the rogue, she fails to see Nugats flip his "2" into a "19", and is far to preoccupied with Vorathan to see him slide his "1" and "2" into a "19" and "18" respectively.
She takes a second look at the dice, and her determined face falls once more.
"One roll. I've never seen that before. One roll."
She hangs her head, not willing to look anyone in the eyes. She absentmindedly waves her hand, dismissing the group without a word.
When the pathfinders leave, they find the mirror on the desk in the front part of the store, waiting for them.
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As the sultry Jelaris gets her dice ready to roll, Vorathan gives her a most seductive smile followed by a wink as she cast her die.
Now this is one of those potential go big or go home moments, but if Bugdips roll has any glimpse into Desra's mood, we may have just gone big...at least we have one 20 on the board to work with in the worse case.
The die comes to a rest on its fate with a glorious 2 showing. A warm ecstatic rush swoops over Vorathan as he does his best to hide his excitement. In his efforts he almost felt bad for the Madam...almost.
"It would seem the Stars have delayed your research until another date, thank you for the generous game! We look forward to bringing the Mirror to Muqual."
Turning to Bugdip as the group makes their way out:
"Яғни, менің досым , сіз кестені іске қалай !"
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Bugdip wanders over to the depressed woman and puts a comforting, clammy hand on her back. "If you pay to have it restored... you can take some life from me if you like," Bugdip offers cautiously.
"Did you see that?" he asks, knowing that they have seen it, "A 20! A 20!"
Vorathan speaks in Dwarven and there is an awkward pause before Bugdip realizes he is speaking to him.
"Oh, ummm..." he begins, inauspiciously, "Неге таблеткалар жұмыс істеп жатыр?"
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Glarifyur nods to Madame Jelaris and turns to make his exit. As soon as the party has secured the mirror and stepped out of the threshold of Jelaris' parlor, he exhales a breath he was unaware he had been holding for what must have been ages. A small smile cracks his lips, turning into a chuckle and ending at a full-blown belly laugh.
"ha...ha ha....HA HA HA HA! WOO! That is livin' indeed boy-oh's! HA HA HA!..."
Throwing an arm around Bugdip's shoulder, Glarifyur wipes a jovial tear from his eye and gives a nod to Vorathan.
"Бұл дегеніміз, сіз әйел, Bugdip үркітуге қалай сондай-ақ!"
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Watching the dice tumble and fall, knowing years were at stake, Nugats holds his breath.
Did she see me?
He felt that his 'trick' was a bit clumsy.
Looking at her confidently, he waits for her to roll her own dice.
'2'
What luck!
Trying not to let his enthusiasm taint this woman's loss, Nugats leaps up from the table. ""
On the way out the door, he grabs Vorathan by the shoulder. "Unbelievable! You and I should set up shop. We could make a killing fleecing these yokels out of tons of money. What say you? And Bugdip, try to roll your 'Rs' less. You are developing quite the accent."
With the bulky chest that is the Monadistic Archive in hand, the group makes their way back to the Farseer Tower. The room has undergone some changes over the past few hours. The furniture has been pushed aside, and the resulting empty carpet space has cushions laid out in a circle. Unlit candles stand in a silent circle around the cushions. The formerly open windows are shut, perhaps to prevent the candles being snuffed by a stray breeze once lit, not that it makes a difference on this still night.
”Excellent, Excellent! I just knew you would have what it takes. If Valsin is good for one thing, it is that he never fails to deliver on a promise. Go ahead and set it up against that wall over there.” Wulessa Yuul fawns as the pathfinders bring the bulky item into the office.
Quickly, she opens the chest and sifts reverently through the scrolls, unrolling and examining several, holding a few up to her ears, and seeming to listen to them. Much of this activity takes place as she speaks, ”Excellent work. I shall take a full account of your adventures this night shortly, but for now... I need some more of your assistance. As I said before, these scrolls are relics of the Jistkan Imperium from thousands of years ago. What information I’ve found indicates that the Monadistic Archive recorded the thoughts and minds of some of the greatest thinkers of that empire. Not merely recorded in the written word—supposedly they copied the very minds of these men and women. Some binding entity within the scrolls brings these minds together into a collective of wisdom and lore, where each mind is no longer a discreet part, but melded into a greater whole. The ritual I have prepared should allow me to open the archive, but the effort of doing so prevents much exploration on my part. If I include you in the ritual, you can be my eyes and ears. Of course, this is not a process that can be completed in one night. This could take years. In the long run, a full team will be assigned cataloging duties, but tonight I cannot resist at least one brief expedition. I have sought the archive for so long, and I would be honored if you would help me with this foray into the mind of the past.”
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Nugats proposal still fresh in the air, Vorathan considers the idea with a keen sense of purpose.
We could indeed make a killing! Never hurts to have multiple streams of income for sure. BLOGUANRNUGATSOFARMUNGEN and Albercoft House of Cards...may need to work on the name...
"You know, Nugats, your right. Perhaps we could make a business venture together, and anyone else who may be willing to invest of course. 'Dwarven Dice and Den of Decks,' the newest gambling hall welcome all! They can call it 'Pair of Double D's' for short!"
Vorathan says this with a flourish of his hands in the air as if reading a sign overhead while the group makes there way back to Farseer Tower. Once back to the Captain's office, they are greeted by Yuul who has been busy...redecorating.
"Captain Yuul, what a pleasure to see you without such a downtrodden undertone as we once left you, seems your mood has improved greatly and I wonder if my comrades and I have had anything to do with this?"
Vorathan helps the group set the Archive in place where Yuul explains her wishes and as she seems to almost bounce with a hidden excitement, of course he would assist in her further pursuit.
"If this is what has brought such a beautiful smile to your face, you can count me in to help keep it there."
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"Thank you for the lessons, Glory-Fur - or as you are known in your father tongue, Үлкен лобковой шашы, right?"
"Ooh! Exciting!" Bugdip exclaims, and cannot help but perform a little in-place hop, "Captain Who-Less-Ah, I would be delighted to travel into the Monadistic Archive. It is just a shame that you will not be seeing it for yourself. Perhaps you can teach us the ritual next and we can send you in there for the second run."
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"Well hello once again Venture Captain. Did you hear, cheated that poor woman out of lots of years. So what she wanted to create a life altering elixir, I got to cheat and win! So exciting. After this we might open a den of ill repute, no den of ... I dunno, Vorathan comes up with all the clever lines.
"I heard rumors of Pathfinders walking into a run a lot, why not hop in a chest. No offense Bugdip."
After listening to his grippli friend once again try and communicate in Nugats' native language, he cannot help but to keep looking at Glarifyur's crotch.
Don't stare, don't stare, I wonder why he doesn't just trim them?
Walessa laughs genuinely as Nugats shares his story. "I am glad things worked out so well for you. Once we take a peek into this amazing archive, I shall take detailed notes of how you came to acquire it. It sounds like you may have the makings of a story that could end up in the chronicles!"
This last part is perhaps an exaggeration, though the intended compliment behind it is not. The venture captain smiles patiently at Tybain as he tries to work through the details.
"My apologies if this seems confusing. I understand the Monadistic Archive to be a mental realm, one only our minds enter. Our bodies remain here. Does that help with some of your confusion? Please, don't be shy about asking your questions. You will be my escorts on this mental journey, and I want you to feel comfortable with your role.”
Her demeanor from when the pathfinders first met her is completely different. The excitement from finally getting her hands on this relic is palpable.
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"Though we are venturing forth with our minds, and leaving our bodies behind, so to speak," Edgar begins, taking a moment to adjust the various pieces of adventuring gear strapped to and clinging to his body. "I presume there will be some amount of danger to us. And I won't simply be able to imagine myself as a twelve-foot tall ice giant with a big, swinging--"
He cuts off his own speech, "... Well, you get the idea. I will still be me while inside that place, correct?"
He waits a moment, pausing to look at each of his companions. "And I imagine this will be like the old wife's tales we've all heard before, sort of a... die in our dreams, die for real... type of situation."
"We will do our utmost to protect you, though I would imagine none of us truly know what our minds will find and manage to bump into while inside the archive."
The venture captain nods along with Rattus, taking in his words to make sure she understands them.
“I think you have the right of it. It should be similar to astral travel. That is to say, your minds form physical copies of your bodies inside. The architecture of the interior likely depends upon whomever this scroll copied millennia ago. If there are defenses inside, they can be dealt with as you would a physical threat. If your mental forms are damaged... I am honestly uncertain what that means for your physical forms. It may be injuries carry across. Hopefully we can avoid that.”
"Thank you for your desire to protect me. There are still many things I am unsure of, and one of them is what exactly happens to me. I should be present in some form. I won’t be directly with you, but I might be able to communicate, and aid in some way.”
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"I am ready lady! Venture Captain. Sorry. I hope you all get to see my mind. It is so much fun in there. There are animals that you can ride, and of course we can all fly. Sometimes I hear music, or think of places I haven't seen, sometimes when I am hungry I envision trees made of sugary treats and small orange dwarfs that take care of it.
"And I can smell the color 'blue'.
"Ready!"
Placing his hands once more on the floor, feeling the earth around him, he closes his eyes and pushes down forcefully. The vibrations, the shifting, the types of earth: sand, clay, soil, rotten detritus, all speak to him, asking what his command is.
"Not yet. Soon. But not yet."
"жерді мініп уақыты"