Vincent sees the base of a cave at the bottom.He leads the party downwards.
This natural cave, illuminated by large floor lanterns, extends from east to west, slightly ascending from a pool of water to a raised shelf.
Floating on the surface of the pool are two strange beings with a star-shaped head and numerous writhing appendages arranged radially around its barrel-shaped body. Their appendages writhe violently as the party approaches and the star shaped head jerks backwards as if smelling something utterly disgusting...
Then one of them speaks, revolted. "Anda menghisap Rafflesia arnoldii!"
You smell of Rafflesia arnoldii!
Winter shakes her head. "If the only thing you can offer others is to hang them, it's no surprise that no one is surrendering, since they'd die anyway."
"I know from your reputation that you are only interested in women when you can wheedle something out of them. I'm certainly not saddling myself to someone like you!"
"And Howard has told me about you. Look, I'll tell you I have no intention of getting saddled with an idiot like you who probably needs help to tie his boots every morning." Winter glares at Seamus.
"If you weren't that stinky I'd give you a good slap on your face, but hoping that it would bring you to your senses would obviously be too optimistic. Who the hell crawls into a rat cave to chase rats?" Winter retorts.
"Now getting stinky chasing undead down is fine, they are abdominations that need killing or they will harm others. But rats?!"
Winter does not go down the ladder with the party, still giving them a wide berth.
Vincent and Howard recognize them as elder things. They can grab and constrict with their tentacles.
Vincent scouts out the elder beings and waves the others back, retreating slightly, Might be a good time to use any protective wards before we face them. They like to grapple and constrict.
Leonard takes a step forward and leans casually against the rough rock wall. I can't speak their langugae, maybe they know Aklo?
Helo, yr ydym ni'n anturwyr sydd wedi dod i siarad â Lowls. Beth amdanoch chi?
Hello, we are adventurers who have come to speak with Lowls. What about you?
"Rydym yn Pethau Henoed. Rydych chi'n marwolau yn arogli mor ddrwg â bantha. Dywedwch wrthym pam na ddylem eich lladd am lygru ein hugof." They answer as they wrinkle their swivelling eyestalks at the party.
We are Elder Things. You mortals smell as bad as a bantha. Tell us why we should not kill you for polluting our cave with your foul ordour!
"Ie, sut y byddech chi'n ei hoffi pe baech chi'n ymlacio mewn pwll a bod rhywun a oedd yn smelt fel cesspit agored yn rhwystro eu ffordd yn." They complain.
Yeah how would you like it if you were relaxing in a pool and aliens that smelt like an open cesspit barged their way in.
" Nid ydych chi'n arogli'n wael. Byddwn ni'n siarad â chi, yna. Nid ydym yn gwybod unrhyw Lowls mortal. Unwaith eto, rydym wedi bod yn cysgu ers cryn amser. Ac yn eithaf newynog, ond ni fyddwn ni'n gyffredinol yn bwyta pethau sy'n gallu cynnal sgwrs gyda ni."
You dont smell bad. We'll speak to you, then. We do not know any mortal Lowls. Again we've been asleep for quite a while. And are pretty hungry,but we generally don't eat things that talk in a civilized manner.
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Howard nods politely to the Elder Things, then pulls out a strange-looking whistle, which he uses to play a rather atonal series of notes.
He then concentrates, and uses Prestidigitation to make the party smell more like the Elder Things.
Howard then picks up his flute again.
Smell bad? I don't smell bad? What are they talking about? Leonard looks down at his ruined clothing, tattered and torn from a long day. Be glad I have no sense of smell.
I have magical cleaning!
Can it clean off the scent of murder?
Yes!
It was a hypothetical question designed to make you think more about your life choices.
Don't you mean rhetorical question?
Leonard does not seem to be paying much attention to the conversation with the elder things.
” Gallwn synnu bod eu croeniau allanol yn arogl detritus budr. Pe bai'n dod o rygod, nid oes gennym ddiddordeb mewn eu gweld. Yn ein diwylliant, y rhai sy'n arogli'n wael yw'r rhai sydd â chastell is. Yr ydym yn ysgolheigion. Os bydd angen i chi enwi ni, fe allech chi ein galw Abbott,” One of them says, ” A Costello.” The other one adds.
We can sense that their outer skins smell of foul detritus. If it came from rats, we have no interest in seeing them. In our culture, those who smell bad are those of lower caste. We are scholars. If you need to name us, you may call us Abbott,
And Costello.
Costello then eyes over the dried rations, ”Mae'n well gennym gig.” Neither of them take the dried rations, nor the fish.
We prefer meat.
Costello begins to recite ancient history.
” Daethom yma i dyst i wrthsefyll y polyps hedfan. Byddai hynny tua 15,000 o flynyddoedd yn ôl, wrth i chi farwolaeth amser cyfrifo. Yn ystod yr hyn y cawsoch chi farwolaethau o'r enw Age of Serpents, roedd storm o polyps hedfan yn addoli'r Brenin Melyn yn defnyddio eu meistrolaeth o wyntoedd i greu awyr anadlu o'u cwmpas er mwyn iddynt allu dal gwactod y gofod - gan chwilio am fyd newydd i ymladd.”
”Y lleoedd y maen nhw'n eu herbyn - codasant Star Stelae - marcio eu tiriogaeth, ond hefyd yn cysylltu'r byd hwn â Carcosa - eu cartref byd. Mae dau ohonynt yn gorwedd ar y bryniau y tu hwnt i hyn, ac mae un yn gorwedd o dan y lle hwn.”
”Yn y pen draw cawsant eu trechu gan y serpentfolk mewn brwydr wych, ond mae llawer wedi peidio ar y ddwy ochr - roedd yn fuddugoliaeth pyrig ar gyfer y gwerin sarp. Roedd y Star Stelae yn segur ers sawl blwyddyn - ond mae rhai marwolaethau wedi dysgu bod modd ailsefydlu'r cysylltiad rhwng Carcosa ac yma - trwy aberth gwaed.”
We came here to witness invasion of the flying polyps. That would be about 15,000 years ago, as you mortals reckon time. During what you mortals called the Age of Serpents, a storm of flying polyps worshipping the Yellow King used their mastery of winds to create breathable air around themselves so they could endure the vacuum of space – looking for a new world to infest.
The places they conquered – they erected Star Stelae - marking their territory, but also linking this world to Carcosa – their homeworld. Two of them lie on the hills beyond here, and one lies beneath this place.
Eventually they were defeated by the serpentfolk in a great battle,but many perished on both sides – it was a pyric victory for the serpent folk. The Star Stelae lay dormant for many years – but some mortals have learnt that it is possible to re-establish the link between Carcosa and here – by blood sacrifice.
” Ddoe, yr oedd un sy'n addoli Roedd y Brenin Melyn yn ymweld â ni. Siaradodd ein tafod trwy hud, a gofynnodd i ni pam yr oeddem yma, a atebwyd gennym. Yna aeth hi i fyny'r ysgol.
” Abbott adds. ” Yn onest yn y 15,000 o flynyddoedd rydym wedi bod yn cysgu - rwy'n siŵr bod Golarion wedi newid llawer. Rwy'n credu y byddai'n gwneud ein pobl yn dda pe gallem ni fynd allan ohoni a pharhau i ddogfennu Golarion.” With that, he takes out a strange device and starts pressing it with his tentacles.
Yesterday, there was one who worshipped The Yellow King visited us. She spoke our tongue through magic, and asked us why we were here, which we answered. Then she went up the ladder.
Honestly in the 15,000 years we’ve been asleep – I’m sure Golarion has changed a lot. It’d do our people good if we could get out of here and continue documenting Golarion.
Abbott starts whistling some notes back.
That’s better. Now you don’t smell altogether bad. Hmm…you could get us some food. And get us out of here. We could be travelling around producing a documentary of Golarion and its inhabitants.
We don’t bother to remember mortals. Their lives are like candle flames…gone in less then a hundred years. We could use some food before we make our Golarion tour.
” Nid ydym yn poeni i gofio marwolaethau. Mae eu bywydau fel fflamau cannwyll ... wedi mynd yn llai na chan mlynedd. Gallem ddefnyddio rhywfaint o fwyd cyn i ni wneud ein taith Golarion.” Costello answers, then they both rise out of the water. They have no wings, yet they somehow float in the air, unaided like some giant floating sphere, following the party.
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Howard nods agreeably, then pipes a few more notes on his flute.
A thought then occurs to him.
Winter yells back, ”The last time you brought a friend it was some brightly coloured long necked lizard with six legs! Which part of you can’t bring strange abberations to Thrushmoorstrange dogs home did you not understand?!”
Abott whistles back to Howard. The last set of notes seem to have a very puzzled and bewildered note to them.
We prefer darker meats. On ice is fine, at least we know its fresh. Do you know what we’ve missed over the last fifteen thousand years? Costello will take records.
Wait, what about uncivil mortals? The serpent folk and the flying polyps paid us no heed! Admittedly they were rather busy fighting each other….what’s happened in the fifteen thousand years that caused mortals to become so rude to kill us Elder Things on sight, or run away?
Costello holds his strange device up and gets ready to tap whatever Howard whistles back. Costello then emits a series of whistles.
The Stelae will become dormant if no one performs sacrifices to it, or if all its power is drawn up and not replenished via blood sacrifice. Yet another can always reactivate it by spilling blood of a sentient creature on its base. To destroy it…if it were even possible…I would think would incur the ire of the worshipper of The Yellow King– it is afterall, linked to Carcosa, his domain.
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Howard nods, and takes up his flute again.
Howard sighs regretfully.
"Unfortunately, the primate-descended humanoids that have become the dominant species on this planet at this time, and in particular in this location, tend to be an insular lot, distrustful of even strange humanoids from their own species, let alone different humanoids, or non-humanoids. I, and my current traveling companions, are not representative of the locals; for starters, we are not from around here, and are viewed with a reasonable amount of suspicion ourselves, making us more tolerant of outsiders. Moreover, I am not entirely humanoid, and feel more kinship in spirit to creatures such as yourselves, than I do to most humanoids, who just can't grasp the true nature of reality. I am aware that I will probably never have the grasp on it that long-lived creatures such as yourself do, but I at least understand the extent of my ignorance..."
Howard sniffs.
"Just because someone looks different, doesn't mean that they shouldn't be treated civilly. These creatures have not caused any harm; they are explorers. Don't worry; I have warned them that the people of Thrushmoor would likely attack them on sight, or run away screaming. For their own safety, I have advised them to avoid the town."
”You and your flying friends…” The party hears a heavy sigh.
”But the plan does have merit. Assuming they don’t get anywhere near torches and far high enough that no one can see them…I suppose they might actually get away.”
”I sure hope it wasn’t our meat you promised them…” Winter answers dubiously.
Then Abbott and Costello pop up, and Winter jumps backwards. ”By Pharasma, they’re big…urm are you sure it’s safe to let them fly around Thrushmoor? That mouth could bite any of us into two with a single bite…” She asks Seamus, worried.
Costello whistles a few notes at Howard.
Well this one didn’t run away…too much. Anyway, where was the meat on ice again? Excuse us, but Aklo…I mean its functional, but it’s a rather crude language to speak if you get my drift. We’re above that.
Abbott gives a few admiring whistles, followed by a few regretful ones.
It appears we've slept through some really momentous events. The Death of the God of Humanity, you say?
My, my, my, my…you’re sure a font of knowledge aren’t you? We’d really love to keep you around for months so we could get everything that’s inside that head of yours. But again..short lived mortals always seem to be in such a hurry…never having the time to engage in deep philosophical discussions…
Costello gives a few more whistles at Howard.
That is a regrettable state of affairs. We enjoy a good civilized conversation, and knowledge. The first step to understanding the universe is to know that most short lived mortals see themselves as the centre of the world – when they are just but a drop of water in the vast ocean. You have already seen that – which puts you ahead of most.
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Howard gives Winter an aggrieved look.
"If you think I would have offered them your flesh, you clearly don't know me at all. Look around you - we are in a cold store! There is plenty of meat here for them."
He then pulls out his pipe again.
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Howard nods thoughtfully.
That said, when this is all over, I would be quite happy to catch-up with you, and share what knowledge I have; are you familiar with the Sending spell, and Greater Scrying? Between them, I could contact you, find your location, and then Teleport to you."
He then makes a self-deprecating gesture.
”I don’t know what aberrations eat! I’ve heard some of them have a taste for humanoid flesh!” Winter retorts.
Abbott whistles a few questioning notes at Howard. Then it whistles to itself unhappily.
Oooh what a regretful thing…it’d be a shame to waste that beautiful mind of yours. Yeah go send him our disapproval and tell him not to waste valuable resources like you.
I really do hate this part, I mean I know they regrow back, but it still hurts.
Abbott then pulls out a small tentacle out of his body and hands it to Howard. As a bit of greenish ichor seeps out, he gives a few more whistles.
I suggest you pickle it so it’ll keep longer. You can use it to scry for me.
Costello gives Howard a few whistles.
And what meaning does a mortal find to its existence?
Abbott eventually finds the beef on ice and makes a happy pig of an aberration…
Costello also does the same...
They both look like they haven't eaten for months...or maybe years might be more accurate...
Abbott pulls out something from what appears to be a sac in his body. ” Yma, rwy'n gwybod bod marwolaethau yn hoff o wrthrychau sgleiniog. Dyma un ar gyfer y sgwrs wâr.” He gives the item to Howard, who identfies it as a cracked dusty rose prism ioun stone.
Here, I know mortals are fond of shiny objects. Here's one for the civilized conversation and the history lesson
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Howard raises an eyebrow at Winter.
"Well, for starters, they assured us that they don't eat meat that talks back to them... I would like to think that is a good indication that they wouldn't expect us to feed you to them."
After all, there is plenty of other humanoid flesh lying around in the other room...
When Abbott pulls off one of his smaller tenetacles, Howard gingerly accepts it, then carefully wraps it up, before nodding to him.
He then makes a point of trying to help stop the bleeding/seepage/ichor-oozing.
Howard then picks up his pipe, and continues.
Once A & C are gorging themselves, Howard turns, and nods in response to Seamus' question.
"Agreed. Let's see what lies downstairs..."
Vincent leads the way down the steps and spots a trap at the entrance of large chamber. He tries to disable it with Howard’s guidance, but doesn’t quite manage it.
"Maen nhw'n dod" The party hears a voice from below.
They're coming
He motions the party back, then tries again with Howard’s guidance.
Howard, Vincent and Leonard hear a fly spell being cast.
Howard, Vincent and Leonard hear a shield of faith spell being cast.
Howard and Vincent hear a spell immunity spell being cast.
This large chamber resembles the courtyard of an ancient subterranean palace, with columns supporting a 30-foot high cloister dome. In the middle of the floor, a tile mosaic of the Yellow Sign emits a thin yellow vapour that fills the room with a faint ordour of chrysanthemums. The vapor rises to the concave dome of the vault, though which an image of the minarets, towers and spires of a mysterious city silhouetted against a yellow sky can be seen. The image sways softly with a slow alternation of light and darkness, to the sound of invisible pipes and strings. At the far end of the chamber, a marble throne sits within a semi circular apse. A floor-to-celling band of gilded mosiacs decorates the walls, depicting a fantastic landscape populated by figures in flowing robes and full-face masks.
Flying 30 feet in the air is a woman with dusky skin with her hair tied up in a bun with a dagger at her belt. She is wearing a colourful dress of blue and orange, and has the unholy symbol of Hastur at her belt. She shouts at the party at the top of her lungs, her voice echoing under the vault. "If you think your condition means you're important, you're wrong. You are nothing! You are an ember floating from some putrid bonfire that will also wink out in the cold death of the universe. We are all worthless before the Unspeakable One! Even if he has marked you, I
, Melisenn Kororo, am the one who will open the world to him - not Lowls, and not you. You will not take my place - you will die! The King in Yellow is coming!"
She is accompanied by a Byakhee that looks similar to the one that the party fought in Fort Hailcourse. The Byakhee is, strangely enough, wearing a belt pouch.
Winter casts protection from evil on Leonard, then moves backwards.
The Byakhee flies downwards, swooping at Vincent. It does not manage to bite Vincent.
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Howard ponders for a moment, before answering.
Abbott whistles a thankful note for Howard's ministrations.
Thanks. But you don't have to worry, it'll heal up on its own.
Costello looks at Howard thoughtfully and gives an approving whistle.
So you too are a seeker of knowledge. That is good, for it is the noblest of goals. And to do so you must have a strong mind so you can look into the abyss and not flinch. The truth can be a harsh thing, but only by accepting it, are we truly free.
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Howard shrugs apologetically, then plays a few notes to Abbott.
He then turns his attention to Costello.
Upon hearing the spellcasting, Leonard draws his wand and casts shield once again. Sounds like a fight, some sort of divine spellcaster. Upon hearing the fly spell cast, he touches his chest with his left hand, right over the heart. Two faint points of light seem to emanate from beneath his shirt, and then begin to flit around in slow circles. Leonard jumps up, striking a pose, feet planted firmly on air. Intoning softly, the tattoos on his left hand grow larger and longer, swirling with a rainbow of colours, until they reach past his fingertips, forming a swirling, spinning series of copies of which move in a slow, waltzing rhythm.
Who's ready to dance?
Leonard speaks up when they're about to enter the big room. Move over, Vincent, let me take the lead. Very unlikely that I'll die with all these magical defences. he leads with his sword out and his hand up, ready for anything. Even a flying Byakhee. Hand glowing a pale blue, Leonard scatters a fine white powdery substance in the air, stabbing with a frosty sword.
Intoning softly, Leonard raises his left hand, tattoos growing longer and changing colour rapidly, until they are a rainbow reaching down the full length of his arm. Sh!t, suddenly, they go bland again, returning to normal size. Concentration broken, Leonard lashes out angrily with Angiliath.
One of Leonard's mirror images dissappears with a pop sound.
Vincent charges the spear and studies the byakhee, stepping past Leonard and stabbing at the thing, muttering to Seamus as he moves. Kill the flyer.
The thing holds onto one of the potions of CMW to feed to Vincent or Leonard if needed, assisting them.
Vincent barely manages to stab the Byakhee.
The woman flies up then glares at Vincent.
Leonard and Vincent recognize the woman casting a hold person spell.
Vincent is not affected by the spell. Leonard tries to slash at the creature twice but it is deflected by a yellow shield.
The creature then continues to hover, and this time turns his attention onto Vincent and clawing and biting at Vincent. One lucky bite lands on Vincent's shoulder.
It does not manage to grab Vincent.
Howard guides Vincent as Leonard is out of reach. Winter guides Seamus instead.
Vincent steps back 5ft diagonnally to the wall the priestess is along . He stabs the byakhee again.
The Byakhee looks injured after Vincent has stabbed it.