Stunned by the depths of this man's depravity, Toramin is momentarily at a loss for words.
" . . . . So you freely confess to creating a thing whose sole purpose is the infliction of death and horror for the funding and the pride of your work?"
He smirks. "Well aren't you insightful. Are you so insightful that you also remember me confessing that I'm working on a cure? Now it would be a crime to take me away from such work..."
Mustering a little bit of his flustered composure, Toramin inquires, "Where is the Pech tribe being held? Can they be saved? Will you aid us in stopping this virus: providing both a cure (if possible) and directing us to the interior gate house of the inner wall?"
"How do you get the inner gate open? Will that stone disc do it?"
The dwarf snorts angrily. "I heard, but I also heard that this yet-extant cure is only on your agenda due to your own ineptitude. You have created the possibility of a genocide. The fact that you may be your own victim does not excuse the magnitude of your crime. It is merely poetic. However, I'm not interested in poetic justice but in saving lives. Will you be useful in that regard or must I spend my life on the frail possibility that ending yours could prevent future calumnies?"
"So many questions! Well let's see, the pech tribe is held in the ice halls, they aren't really harmed at all. For the third time, yes I am working on a cure, actually I could use some help with that...I know nothing of the inner wall because I haven't been above ground in months, and that stone disc is for the octagonal room which I'm sure you passed through since you're here." He inhales after his long-winded answer. "So, I believe we are both in positions to help each other!"
Psotheos shakes his head in disbelief. This is the monster that could kill Xilres. The irony of the man’s infection with his own creation is much of a palliative. He clenches his fists and attempts to relax. Attacking the man would be counterproductive.
Summoning his father’s diplomacy lessons, Psotheos calmly says in a neutral tone, ”How can we aid you?”
He throws his arms up and walks over to Arjax, throwing an arm around him. "See? Reason! We all just want to get along here." He smiles and looks around, then turns his twisted smile back to Arjax. "So, what I need is trifling really, shouldn't take you more than a minute to get!" He looks at your expressions, laughing. "Oh it's simple, I need 3 liters of drow blood!" He continues laughing, looking over at Lindale.
Lindale pauses in his examining of the contents of the room to look at the madman and laughs. "Did you just say Drow blood? What on earth makes you think that will help?"
The madman smiles at Lindale; when a person laughs about the idea of his blood being drained from his body, well that's his kind of guy! "A few reasons, I won't bore or try to explain the intricacies of the details to you. One is their resistance to light. This disease needs sunlight to manifest. More importantly is their resistance to poison. I took the basis of this disease and made it bond like a poison to the blood, but drow are naturally resistant to such kinds of covalent bonding. I can't do a mix of bloods either because multiple types will cause them to destroy each other, essentially getting nothing done!"
"Where in the ice halls? How can I effect their release? We were all through there and I saw no prisons."
He shrugs. "We don't cage them, they made their home down there they way they saw fit."
"Do you need three full liters or could you just take one now?"
Three liters doesn't seem that dangerous.
"No, I need all three. The ratio of drow blood to dragon plasma is enormous, anything less than three liters and the product will be so small I couldn't even see it. Now once I have some of the produce I can duplicate it without any more blood, but I need the initial three liters to get a "blueprint" for the chemical."
"Well you can't have it. The drow's with me."
"It is up to Lindale. It's always easy to offer up someone else for the 'greater good,' which is a sure path to evil. Wait. You said you need poison resistant blood? I come from excellent dwarven stock. Few are resistant as I. Could you make due with half of his blood and half of mine?"
He pauses, thinking it over. "Dwarves certainly have the poison resistance necessary, and a great deal of them live underground so they're more resistant to the sun than most other races...I can't guarantee anything, but it could work."
"The only true sacrifices are those we ask of ourselves. Lindale, will you give your blood with me so that thousands of lives -- including our own can be saved?"
As Toramin rolls up his sleeve, he pauses, "We need to get to the gate house. Please, tell us how to operate the revolving room."
"Wonderful! Let me just get something to take the blood..." He pulls out a bin and begins shuffling through the items. He takes out a foot long cleaver and begins walking over. At your looks he pauses. "Ohhhh you plan to live..." He goes back to the bin and takes out a long needle with a tube on the other end of it, then goes about collecting a few other items.
"Clean that first. And about the rotating room?"
He looks at you sarcastically. "Well of course, what kind of sick demented bastard do you think I am?" He chuckles and takes a bit of cleaning alcohol to wipe the needle down.
"You trust this madman? He cares nothing for you or any of us. You developed this advanced rot? You must know if it has any weaknesses yes? It needs sunlight? Fuse my blood with it and likely make it less dependant on the sun. Find out how I resist poison, or dwarves for that matter, which I am sure many reside in the city above from the ones we encountered on the wall, and overcome any such resistance? I think not that I will be giving this man my blood."
He starts pondering. "Resistant to these...well I suppose it's a possibility. The disease could adapt and overcome these, actually becoming harder to kill. Perhaps I should use five liters..."
"Of course I do not trust him. Trust is irrelevant. He is a demon in man's flesh -- a genocidaire, but I'm willing to take a risk on the vanishingly small chance that some good may come of this."
You decline his volatile offer and leave, taking his entire bundle of keys with you. The party makes it to the octagonal room without incident, and placing the next stone tablet turns it another 90 degrees, the event being slightly less exciting with everybody prepared. The next door opens and you 10 feet in front of you is a steel door that looks air-tight. It's locked, but after rifling through some of Aether's keys you find the correct one and get the door open.
What you see beyond the door is life changing.
Both sides of the room are cages full of diseased, dying, and dead humanoids. Everybody from soldiers to shopkeepers to mothers are held in these cages. There must be nearly 100 of them, all in various states of degradation. Some are nothing but rotting bodies, some are mindless beasts that claw and bite at everything they can reach, some are too weak to move and simply lay down, staring at the walls with lifeless eyes, some are stuck in their own little world and don't even notice you enter. But the worst are the ones that are still human. They stare at you as you enter with hollow eyes, and you can see from how their skin hangs off their bones they're already infected. They pull at the bars and reach through them, crying and begging for your help.
At the far end of the room is door similar to the one you entered from.
Toramin holds his breath and starts walking across the floor. He meets the eyes of those who look at him with helpless, but resolute compassion, he would, if he could, do something to save them, but for now he could do nothing but offer them the quiet dignity of recognition. I see you. What has been done to you is a terrible crime, but you are still beings worthy of respect.
The paladin fumbles with the next set of locks until he finds the appropriate key.
F!#*. Me.
Lindale hesitates but slowly follows Toramin towards the next door, watching to make sure none of them can touch him. "How contagious was this again?"
Bjorkus pauses long enough to share a look of pity before taking off for the opposite door.