Looking at each in turn, most of the creatures do not detect as evil and do not detect as... anything... under deathwatch. One, however, detects as evil and neither alive nor dead under deathwatch. This is the same one that Narvik pointed out.
Still, neither of you believe that these are illusions.
The creatures stand menacingly over the party, utterly silent and completely motionless.
However!
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Aeris nudges Sarion and says, ”Looks like he doesn’t really want to chat. Let’s try just going around him, maybe try the door to our left. And keep an eye on those suits of armor, I’ve heard tales of such things coming to life.”
Just as he’s about to step in that direction, something catches his eye. ”Hey, wait a minute,” he says, ”only one of these is real. The rest are illusions!” He points at the same one that Narvik and Sarion have identified as different from the others.
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"One of these is real? Could he be enslaved by some sort of spell?"
Ouroboreia first casts detect magic to see the aura of the non-illusory creature firsthand, then studies it in order to identify what spell or effect he's affected with.
If she finds that the creature is under some kind of nefarious spell as she suspects, she will cast a targeted dispel magic upon that effect.
Now that it's been pointed out by Aeris, the rest of the group sees through the six illusory forms. Ouroboreia studies the remaining one carefully and lets out a small gasp--it's not a locathah at all. It's a flesh golem!
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"Be careful about flesh golems. They are immune to magic, except magical attacks based on fire or cold, which slow them. They are also resilient to blows, save the ones dealt with adamantine weapons." explains the void wizardess. "It's quite strange, it doesn't appear to be agressive yet. Most golems usually are. My guess is that it has been commanded to protect this area from robbers, so unless we start taking things, it won't attack us. Shall we put my theory to the test by simply leaving this place?"
Aeris does a quick check of the door and opens it.
A quick perusal of this space reveals it to be an elaborate kitchen outfitted for the preparation of sumptuous gourmet meals. Stone countertops and oak cupboards line the walls, and three iron stoves run down the center of the room. The place is thoroughly stocked with pots and pans, cutlery of the finest quality, and implements whose purpose can only be guessed at by those without vast culinary experience. Various barrels, jars, and other containers around the expansive workspace hold foodstuffs, though not in particularly great abundance--likely because Passad is not planning a visit anytime soon.
There is a large (10 foot square) trap door in the northeast corner that is secured by a sturdy padlock.
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With an eye on the trapdoor, Aeris muses, "I wonder if that lock is meant to keep us out, or something in?" He kneels by the door, uttering a brief prayer to Milani for guidance and checking the floor for any signs of what might have come this way or how much traffic it gets.
"I've no skill with locks, " he says as he scans the floor, "any of you able to get that thing open? Or should we close the door to the dining room and risk making a little noise breaking it open?"
The manor is well cleaned, so there is precisely zero dust or mud for Aeris to use in gauging how well-traveled this area is. Narvik detects magic of the evocation school, but it's some ways beneath the door.
Aeris and Sarion both give the lock a tug, but it remains fast. However, a few whacks with a weapon easily destroys the lock altogether. Once the door is pulled open, though, there's a slight popping noise followed by a low hiss as the room fills with fumes.
A noxious green cloud wafts up through the opened door. Sarion and Narvik hold their lunches; Aeris and Ouroboreia vomit their's all over the tile floor. The sensation of nausea passes after just a few unpleasant moments. Interestingly, the blast of the cloud seems to have been primarily directed downward, into whatever is below the trap door. This becomes all the more clear when the sounds of intense coughing, sputtering, and vomiting can be heard from below.
A peek down the hole reveals an extensive wine cellar. In the center of the cellar is a blindfolded and gagged man tied to a chair, wearing a fine silken kimono of a decidedly feminine cut and patterned with lilies.
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Ouroboreia does her best to regain her composure after this painful stomach-churning experience.
"We should exercise caution. There were obvious wards to keep this person from exiting. I expect that it wasn't in vain. Let's just ungag him first and hear what he has to say first. Then we can decide whether to free him or not. Does it sound fair?"
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"Very well," Aeris replies to Ouroboreia's suggestion, "though he doesn't look like he could do us much harm in his current state." He descends into the cellar and gently removes the man's blindfold and gag before asking, "Who are you, and what are you doing down here?"
I'll ask about the flowery kimono later...
Aeris descends the steps into the wine cellar and removes that man's vomit-soaked blindfold and gag. His response is... unexpected.
he spits, following this insult with a long string of curses in Tien.
Naked but for the kimono, this highly dispeptic man sports an odd mustache, a slight build, and a bald pate fringed with disheveled tufts of brown hair.
"I'm Harmidio Besai, you diseased carbuncle! Now untie me!"
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Aeris considers pointing out that Besai is the one tied up and gagged in a wine cellar, quite possibly wearing a borrowed kimono, and that if idiots are rescuing him there's a serious question about what that makes him, but he refrains. Sort of.
"Well, lucky for you, we're the idiots sent to rescue you. It's clear we've much to learn, it's true. I would never have considered going undercover as a geisha, but it's quite a cunning disguise."
He undoes the ropes binding Besai, asking as he does so, "I don't suppose you have the Mitani Manual in the pocket of your kimono? Or have any idea where they've stashed it?"
Besai screeches. "What use are you morons?" The scholar gets up awkwardly out of his chair and rubs his wrists.
"Took Absalom bloody long enough to send help," he whines, his voice dripping with ingratitude.
"No way, no sir, I'm the only one in this whole stupid continent that can correctly identify it. I'm comin' with you, like it or not!" The indignant look on Besai's face is juxtaposed hilariously with his bedraggled, vomit-stained, shoe-less, kimono-clad form.
Ouroboreia casts a discerning gaze at Besai. She is somewhat disappointed to find that he is indeed real. In fact, nothing on or about him seems magical at all. "Well, are we just gonna sit here like lumps?! Come on you sloths, let's get moving! That fat bastard waved the damn thing in my face before they tied me up, so it's here somewhere. Give me my ring," he adds acidically, without context.
is again the cry from Besai. "You don't have my ring either?! You're even more useless than I thought! Nimwits."
Once again, the flesh golem leaves the Pathfinders alone so long as they leave it alone. The walls of the next room are lined with shelving that holds bedding and table linens, a few spare high backed chairs, small tables and a long dresser, cleaning supplies, and other standby items. A pair of extra curtains in need of repair hang on the south wall in the west quadrant of the storage room.