Tilver makes use of his energy to check whether the wall of force has reappeared.
The magical wall is not there. Tilver can hear the sounds of the quiet old neighborhood out beyond the house's walls.
The square room at the top is almost empty. The only thing in the room is a locked iron chest.
While the others are discussing whether to leave, Velika will go up to the locked iron chest and cast detect magic on it to see if the exterior of the box has any magical auras.
Velika detects a faint aura of transmutation from within the chest.
Tilver checks the chest for traps and then, if it seems safe, he tries to open it.
Tiller finds no traps, but also finds the lock to be exceptionally difficult to open without a key. Its workings are just devilishly complex.
Tilver tries using the same key that got them into the tower. "Who knows?"
The key you have doesn't fit the lock.
Tilver sits down and works at the lock for several minutes. He uses all the tricks he knows, and takes suggestions from the others.
Velika will attempt to assist (if that's possible on a take-20):
Dain leans back against the wall of the room with the palms of his hands pressed against the stone wall. After a moment, Magda joins him, standing up on her rear legs and placing her front paws against the wall as well.
Dain whispers to the spirits to give aid to his friend as he attempts to pick the lock. As Tiler works, a faint glow can be seen coming from inside the lock, and everynow and then Tilver feels something pushing his picks lightly in one direction or another.
After more than a minute, Tilver manages to pop open the lock on the chest! Inside are heaps of coins.
Once counted, the yield is It contains 8,251 sp, 2,341 gp, a gold candlestick, a silver headband, and one-half of the spiral contrivance!
"Well, that should take care of helping Dain, if we can find someone who can cast the spells needed."
Holy's eyes light up.
"I'm not sure how much the larger items are worth, but that's quite a nice pile of gold. Yes, cousin, let's leave and find help for Dain."
Holys goes to help Tilver find someone who can upgrade the latter's longspear, or exchange it for a magical one, understanding that such a process might require coming back another day. He'll also try to find potions of Protection from Evil.
Velika will go with Holys and Tilver and suggest the sell some of the things she's carrying while they're out.
Velika, Tilver, Dain and Holys head out into the town. Holys knows that Ptolus's markets contain hundreds, if not thousands of places to sell goods. Some things (like the Jewelry), you'd want to sell in the South Market, whereas others (like the masterwork weapons and armor) you'd want to sell here in Oldtown, near the coliseum and the gladiatorial schools. The perfume and the lewd paintings...well... there are some little boutiques in Midtown that serve rare connoisseurs.
Likewise there are master smiths all over town who might see to Tilver's spear, but you don't really have the time for that. You're probably better off selling it and buying a magical spear ready-made. For that you'll want to go to the Bull and Bear Armory in Delver's Square. Luckily, that's also where you'll find the Chapel of St. Gustav and Brother Fabitor Thisk. You might also browse Myraeth's Odditis and Ebbert's Outfitters or have lunch at the Ghostly Minstrel.
Holys, give me an Appraise check for each item you want to sell. Anyone else can make an Appraise check to Aid Another. This will determine whether you find a fair price.
Then we'll head over to Delver's Square and roleplay some of that out.
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Meanwhile, Silas is all by himself in the courtyard of Pythoness House, tucked up out of sight by the well. The creepy sounds and shifting shadows of the house are considerably more eerie when you're alone, and even an accomplished litorian warrior like Silas is not a all sure he's the most dangerous thing in the House. He might not admit it to anyone else, but he badly wants his friends to return before nightfall.
Silas has the chance to observe that the wall of force appears whenever the ghostly voice says "Come to me", but that it disappears at all other times. He can hear the hell hounds shifting about upstairs, but for whatever reason they do not come down.
Tilver examines each item with Holys to help point out any details which can help them see the value of the items. He finally holds up the chaos robe. "Ugh, disgusting. Should we just burn this instead? Who would even want this?"
Silas tries not to yawn as he watches the wall come and go and wonders why any ratman would willingly stay in this place longer then necessary as an idle thought to keep him awake.
Velika circles the robe as Tilver holds it up.
"Well, if we can't sell it, I'll take it. Some of the entertainment troops might put it to good use.
"We'll find a buyer. The wealthy have all manner of curious tastes and affections, same as the poor. Difference is, they're more able to afford to buy such esoterica."
Myraeth Tuneweaver bills his shop as a place to buy and sell the strange trinkets and “oddities” found below the city, but in fact his shop is much more than that. It is, quite literally, the place for adventurers to sell what they recover on their adventures below the streets. From brass candlesticks to gemstones to antique spoons, Myraeth will assess and buy virtually anything.
The important thing, however, is that Myraeth buys and sells magic items of all kinds. A visitor to Ptolus might find it odd that this is a unique aspect of his business—one might expect the city to have a dozen such shops. Nevertheless, with the exception of a couple places that sell potions or scrolls, Myraeth’s is the only store of its kind. Why? Because the Dreaming Apothecary, with its connections to the Inverted Pyramid, has made it clear over the years that “bad luck” befalls anyone
attempting to sell magic items in Ptolus. They make an exception for Myraeth because of some deal struck decades earlier, and because he only resells used items. Those wishing to buy new, custom-made items must go to the Dreaming Apothecary.
Myraeth’s willingness to buy almost anything, and his ever-changing stock of magic items, makes his shop extremely popular with the local
adventurer population. Many stop by every day just to see what he’s gotten in. This is not only out of curiosity and idle window-shopping, but it also makes for an interesting gauge of how one’s fellow adventurers are doing. Myraeth never discloses who is buying or selling what, so as not to reveal anyone’s secrets; life could get dangerous for an adventurer if people knew she showed up often with hoards of gems, for example.
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The bell overhead jangles as you enter Myraeth's small but clean shop. The huge ogre named Kird glowers at you from the aisle. This was terrifying the first time you entered the store, but you've come to know that silent Kird is not a threat unless one should try to touch the merchandise uninvited.
"Coming!" calls the tall ascetic-looking shoal elf Myraeth. He backs out of his back room, carrying a small box. Turning to see you he smiles. "Ah! My up-and-coming delvers. So good to see you! Finally ready to venture into the Labyrinth? Or are you still seeking a way inside your chest?"
"Wait, where is...is..." he snaps his fingers. "The Dallimothan litorian...Silas! He didn't...um...?"
Velika smiles broadly at Myraeth, "Silas is alive and well, bravely guarding the access to our potential key. But that chest may be the death of us yet. The beasts we've fought in our ongoing search! We feebler members needed a break and a shopping trip before diving back in to the fray!"
Veiika will regale him with tales of their recent adventure, much embellished until it is clear he's no longer interested.
"Come on Dain, let's leave these two to a discussion of the Chaos Cults. We can try to find Brother Fabitor and see if someone can heal you." Tilver nods to Velika and heads to St. Gustav’s.
"Ah," says Myraeth after Velika has told her story. "A rhodintor! Few indeed have met one in person and lived to tell the tale! You should be careful when telling this story, for there are those who serve the rhodintor even among the people of this city. Especially among the people of this city."
"Now, what have you brought me?"
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Dain and Tilver cross Delver's Square as a light rain begins to fall and clouds begin to obscure the upper half of the Spire.
Brother Fabitor is in front of St. Gustav's talking with a pair of men who are evidently twins. Bearded and bookish- looking, they chat while they clean the brasswork on the chapel's front door. They regard Dain and Tilver with mild interest, their chatter dropping off as the two approach.
"Welcome back!" says the Lothianite priest. "Tilver and Dain, do you know Anselm and Morgan? They make wonderful pies!"
"Perhaps let's go sit in your back room and show you there, friend. Especially if there are those around who may have a... more positive attitude towards rhodintor than us."
Tilver chuckles. "Anselm, Morgan. A pleasure to meet you. What kind of pies are your specialty? I enjoy a good cherry pie most of the time, but my weakness is a perfect peach pie. And I will rarely turn down a lamb mince pie too." He smiles.
He turns back to the priest. "Brother Fabitor, we need some assistance. Dain took the brunt of an attack and it's left him...well, perhaps you can see for yourself. We're in need of some special healing. I was hoping you would know a priest who could help."
At the mention of the back room, the huge ogre Kird stirs, rumbling deep in his throat. With a calm wave of his thin hand Myraeth signals the guard that all is well. "Yes," he agrees, "Let's talk in the back. Tea?"
The shopkeeper escorts you into the back of the shop, a small space with a great many ledgers and stout iron chest. Of his legendary vault you can see nothing save for a small and rather ordinary looking door half concealed with a curtain.
Myraeth pours a spicy Kemish tea into fine cups of exquisite design, placing one before each of you. You're not really sure how he keeps the kettle piping hot, but the aroma is delicious.
"Now, let me see."
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"We bake all sorts of pies, sir," says Anselm. "And a good mince pie is my specialty. It's Morgan what does the fruit pies and tarts. We, uh, also bake a very good hardbread, if you've a need for something that stays good a long time." Delvers so often do stay below ground for days or sometimes even weeks. Hard tack biscuits normally meant for sailors on the Whitewind Sea also sell well to Delvers.
Brother Fabitor looks concerned, looking Dain over with the eyes of a professional healer. "Yes. Yes I see. You do look a bit drawn, Dain."
With a nod of his head, he leads you aside from the bakers-turned-brass-cleaners and into a tiny garden at the side of the chapel where you stand under a statue of the holy St. Gustav.
"The thing is, Dain, you're a good friend, but you're not a Lothianite. I'd help if I could, but I don't have that kind of influence in the Church. I'm only here on Delver's Square because I'm seen as a bit of a troublemaker to start with."
"I can probably get you the help you require, but the Church would require a significant donation in return." He sighs. "I wish you would convert. The love of Lothian is the most powerful force in Praemal and the Church is very capable of helping its believers."
"Anyway, It could cost you well over a thousand gold shields if I were to arrange a more senior priest to come and handle this for you. I really hate to send you elsewhere because of all the help you've given me in the past, but have you considered going to a priest of Asche? I believe you know Mand Scheben, right?"