The team breaks into the lower floor of the granary. The four vast silos that hold much of Absalom's grain tower above them. Here on the lower floor are four large holding chambers into which the grain can be poured as needed.
All four rooms are covered in a thick sea of grain. In the eastern room, the blood trail gets fainter as it heads toward the open doorway to the northeastern silo. A thin, cold mist permeates the granary despite the warm night outside.
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Mikhaere advances with the party in tow. He notices (as do you all) the three shadowy figures at the same time as they themselves are seen. Cloaked figures bearing ancient scythes move in total silence. Fog seems to both wreathe and animate them, as if the fog were real and they merely apparitions. Two stand silent vigil thigh-deep in the grain while a third unpacks ceramic vials from an ancient, weathered chest.
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Initiative Order:
- Rekkr
- Black Echelon
- Everyone Else
Rekkr, go!
<-One failure
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The barbarian roars in anger and powers his way through the thigh-high sea of grain. As soon as he closes with the undead, his movements cease making any noise at all. He brings his greatsword crashing down on the Black Echelon operative's withered head, shattering it like a ceramic mug in a bar fight.
The grain nearby shifts silently and two more undead leap out of the grain! All four remaining converge with deliberate slowness on Rekkr, surrounding him and slashing away with their small, rusted sickles. One barely manages to scratch the barbarian, who doesn't even notice. One exudes a thick mist that completely conceals the action from those at a distance.
Anyone (including Rekkr), go!
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As Mikhaere closes in on the undead menace, a sudden mist overcomes him and he finds himself wreathed in blankness. He frowns to himself.
The druid leans over and picks up a handful of grain from the floor beside him. Holding it in his open palm, he blows on it, sending the granules floating in the air towards where he had last seen the Black Echelon. They begin to glow with a bright yellow light as they travel, not unlike fireflies, and illuminate some of the figures through the mist.
He continues on undeterred, following his nose through the fog until the figure of one looms out of the mist.
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<- Failed
<- Failed
<- Failed
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Mikhaere and Rekkr each destroy one of the ancient undead, though Rekkr's brave words are swallowed by the absolute silence surrounding his foes. Donkey Teeth begins casting a spell while Machaero struggles to get through the grain. Garret moves up and lobs a bolt of acid into the mist that burns through some grain but not the enemy.
The remaining two Black Echelon operatives move to flank Rekkr and attack, but their rusty sickles are no match for the mighty berserker's guard.
Anyone, go!
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Donkey Teeth moves forward N-N and finishes casting his Summon monster spell summoning a celestial Monkey to assist Rekkr in attacking Goon A Monkey is tiny and occupies the same square as A
Monkey
CG Tiny Magical Beast (Augmented Animal, Extraplanar)
Init +2; Senses Darkvision 60', Low-Light Vision; Listen +3, Spot +3
Languages Celestial
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AC 14 (+2 size, +2 Dex), touch 14, flat-footed 12
hp 4 (1 HD)
SR 6
Resist Acid 5, Cold 5, Electricity 5
Fort +2, Ref +4, Will +1
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Speed 30 ft, Climb 30 ft.
Melee Bite +4 (1d3-4)
Space/Reach 2.5 ft./0 ft.
Base Atk +0; Grp -12
Atk Options Smite Good (1/day)
Smite Evil (1/day): make a normal melee attack to deal 1 point extra damage against an evil foe.
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Abilities Str 3, Dex 15, Con 10, Int 3, Wis 12, Cha 5
SQ Darkvision 60', Low-Light Vision
Feats Weapon Finesse
Skills Balance +10, Climb +10, Hide +10, Listen +3, Spot +3
Skills: Monkeys have +8 racial bonuses on Balance and Climb, and can choose to take 10 on Climb checks even when rushed or threatened. They use their Dexterity modifier instead of their Strength modifier on Climb checks.
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So 2
So, to be clear, there ARE lanes free of grain and your friendly neighborhood GM is getting his head examined.
Mikhaere duels with his target until Machaero arrives and simply rips the ancient skeleton's rib cage apart. The druid watches in disgust as the waterlogged bones fall lifelessly among the grains.
Likewise, Rekkr smashes his greatsword down on the hapless agent before him, shattering bone and sending teeth flying into the city's food supply.
As the mists clear, a radiant simian emerges from thin air and hoots gleefully at the vast storehouse of food.
With a querulous voice, Yargos Gill calls from outside. "Hello?" Anyone there?"
[The battle is over; the Pathfinders have won.]
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Garret calls out to Yargos, "We are here, and all seems to be well." He walks slowly over to the agents' remains and attempts to find the vials and replace them within the small chest. Once that's done, he turns to Yargos. "Tell us, man - where is Nessian signalling the Black Echelon from? What tower?"
"I don't know. It seemed far into the city, but his men will be gone from there unless I miss my guess. You need to find Nessian himself and put a stop to this!"
"Why would I know anything about a crime lord's lair? I'm a scholar!" says Yargos. "But remember I told you about Grandmaster Torch? He'd know something, if anyone does, and I can lead you to him."
With the exception of grain, a few rats and the skeletons of long-dead Taldan operatives, the granary is empty.
Yargos Gill leads the Pathfinders back to the Puddles and has them lift a grate off an unobtrusive sewer entrance. Descending into the sewer maze of the Puddle District, a waterlogged labyrinth of dangerously flooded tunnels known as the Siphons, he leads them through a dizzying array of turns, descents, switchbacks and unobtrusive doors until at last they arrive at an unremarkable steel door somewhere deep in the bowels of the city.
"Grandmaster Torch has powerful friends and bodyguards," Yargos says. "You would do well to keep your weapons sheathed."
He knocks on the door and waits. After a few moments the door opens. Yargos tells the servant at the door that you wish an audience with the Grandmaster. Not long later, you are ushered into his private accommodations.
Grandmaster Torch is a soft-spoken man whose entire body is covered in horrible burn scars. He lounges in a shallow pool nursing his scars while two servants gently recycle the water over his charred form. His two heavily armored, half-orc bodyguards remain close at hand.
"I am Grandmaster Torch," he says pleasantly, albeit in a rasping voice. "How may I be of service?"
The Grandmaster smiles broadly. "Indeed. What is the going price for ratting out an up-and-coming crime boss?" He strokes his chin thoughtfully. "Six thousand gold crowns ought to assuage my conscience," he says.
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Mikhaere says some particularly choice words in his native tongue that would probably cause the more faint of heart to blush in embarrassment. He wasn't raised as a pirate's child for nothing.
"Like hell you have a conscience to begin with. You know Pathfinders bloody well do not have that kind of coinage. I'm beginning to think you find this all a big joke..."
He returns to muttering angrily in Tengu under his breath. He'll let those in the party who are less likely to explode at Torch in anger try to whittle the man down.
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Mikhaere continues to grumble angrily to himself as Garret attempts to go a more diplomatic route.
Grandmaster Torch seems to be as amused by Garret's attempt to parley as by the tengu's clear frustration. "And why should I give up my customary coin, Garret Shadowcaller? Convince me."
"That, my wayang friend, is what Mister Shadowcaller has proposed. And I put it to you that as yet I know of no reason why I should, despite our feathered friend's high dudgeon, accept anything but direct payment for my services."
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Garret takes a moment to collect his thoughts, then replies, "Grandmaster Torch. I realize that the affairs of the city above may not concern you as much as it does us, and I can appreciate the value of good coin as much as any other, I suppose. Given to the right people, it has quite a lot of power."
His voice become more forceful, then. "Still. What happens, sir, when there is nobody that is alive to take your coin? What happens when untainted food and water cost more coin than you have? Can you eat your coin for nourishment? Live on it and the blood of the innocent for your food and drink?"
"We have already stopped an assault on the Absalom granaries, and there are bound to be more threats against the city besides. Now, if you insist on receiving this coin as payment, we will be forced to either go to the Pathfinder Society and beg for it, or find the information we need in some other way. Either will likely take time, and I doubt that Nessian will wait for us, even if we ask very nicely. I put it to you, then - would you be responsible for hundreds, perhaps thousands, of deaths in the city above just so you can wring your 'customary coin' from us?"
The grandmaster snorts in amusement, though whether at Donkey Teeth's assertion or Garret's is hard to say. In any case, he relents.
"I’ve recently come into possession of a series of safes. Unfortunately, the safecracker I employed has turned out to be quite useless. If you can coax even three of the five safes open, I could be persuaded to disclose Nessian’s location and dispense with my regular fee entirely. These chests are remarkably unique and I have the foreboding suspicion that, in this case, the receptacles just might be worth more than their contents, so I’d rather you didn’t smash them open. Oh! One more thing: if my diviner warns me you have crossed me and stolen the contents, there will be repercussions."