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For dotting purposes
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Dot... :-)
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dottin'
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The waters of Lake Encarthan lap softly on the side of the Ferry. A ferry that has been requisitioned by Lastwall to take supplies and men towards their base on Aroden's Landing. The waters near Lastwall are calm but those that have been near the Isle of Terror know full well that it won't last. Storms and rough waters await.
The group of Pathfinders are well traveled and well versed in the dangers of this land. They don't so much as flinch at the prospect of what awaits them. The reward is handsome, not just money but maybe even a deed or a title. Something to do one adventuring has run its course. Maybe for some it is there last foray into the wilderness before the sit on their rewards for the rest of their lifetime. Maybe some have come just for the thrill of adventure.
The journey is brief and there isn't many on board, mostly sailors and quartermasters. Seems like the party has managed to get aboard a supply vessel. Not that it matters, there aren't many dangers that are beneath the Lake. With so much activity from the nations there isn't anyone raiding the waters either.
The boat has to go through a bit of a rough patch before finally reaching its destination, nothing that the sailors weren't prepared for. Except maybe one or two fresh recruits who have are donating their lunch to the lake.
The base camp is called Lionel's Spearhead, after the general that set the place up. It is situated just past the beaches where some solid ground is. The camp is relatively small, with maybe a population of a little over 250 men. They have already set up some permanent structures made of stone and wood, a blacksmith, a church to Desna, a supply building, an armory and a few others dotted about. Many of the sleeping quarters are temporary. Those more tactically minded know that this is because people might be needed elsewhere on the island so they should bring their beds with them.
Near the sleeping quarters is a central tent, the captain of the ship you were on ushers the party inside. A rugged looking half-elf with bright white and golden armour looks up at the group as they walk on it. It is clear that this man is from the Knights of Ozem. He introduces himself.
"Welcome weary pathfinders, my name is Lionel Typhoeus. Pleasure to make your acquaintances" He salutes the group eyeing each of them though he looks over Tsadok.
"I presume you know why you were brought, though I shall reiterate part of it. Our researches here have been wondering what magical calamity has claimed the Isle. They were tasked with finding out what is wrong and it this is normal for the island. The researchers quickly determined that it has something to do with the ancient trap Tar-Baphon set. However they are unsure of what extent of damage this might cause. This where you come in, we will be sending you to the depths of Well of Sorrows. You are quite able I am sure, we want you to find any information you possibly can find about what has happened inside. Any questions?" Lionel says quite plainly. Clearly he thinks this is of utmost importance as he barely dispenses pleasantries beyond just the greeting.
Jeremiah Flynt, or simply Flynt to those he does not know well, stands slightly apart from the others, unconsciously positioning himself to have a good view of both the crowd and the tent's entrance. A somewhat gaunt man with a heavy coat, and a wide-brimmed hat, he would stand out in the crowd even if he tried to mix with them.
Frankly, he seemed more interested in the half-finished cigar he rolled between his fingers than what his ostensible superior had to say about the situation at hand. As far as he was concerned this was your run-of-the-mill escort mission. No doubt there would be some nastiness involved, maybe even a death or two, but such things were to be expected. Seemed like ever where he found himself these days had a name like 'The Isle of Terror' or 'The Forest of Rot'. Varisians and their sense of humor.
Tsadok and Elise were both in this with him so he knew he could count on at least two others in this group. Elise knew him well enough to not be concerned if he did not have a pulse which was good. Explaining that particular quirk of his physiology was never easy.
As for Tsadok... well as far as Flynt was concerned, the Half-Orc was too good a man to be a good mercenary, even in the employ of a group like this. Still, he was glad to have the orckin along. Speaking of which...
Tsadok stands tall near the middle of the group. He doesn't attempt to hide his more bestial features, and he doesn't try to blend in, though it would be nearly impossible if he tried, standing at a height of 6'6", with scars across his entire body.
He fears not for what lies ahead. He imagines that on this island, there will be terrifying monsters and deadly traps, but these are not the things he fears. All that they can do is kill him, and he isn't afraid to die.
He's more afraid of what might happen if he lives. He knows that men of authority, such as Lionel and his superiors, will try to downplay Tsadok's involvement in this affair, in favor of the less monstrous heroes. If that happens, people may continue to scorn him, and Tsadok may never be able to find a place to call home.
He knows though, that regardless of what happens to him, he will make sure that Elise and Jeremiah make it off this island. They saved his life, so he'll do whatever he can to save theirs, and make sure that they are able to live normal lives, even if he never can.
He listens closely to what Lionel is saying, although he stays prepared for anything these people might do.
Dreyyn stands near the two scholars he has known for a few years now, Alþórel and Nethan. Lacking the high-born features prominent among coutiers across Tian Xia, but sufficiently different so as to seem somewhat exotic among Inner Sea locals, Dreyyn blends in at a distance with most other mercenaries. Only when up close where his face can be seen does he stand out. He has sandy blonde hair kept loose behind his head. He wears fine armor befitting a low noble, and has the bearing to match. He wears breastplate modified to allow more fluid movement, and carries the two-bladed sword of an agile warrior.
He looked around at the others that had arrived with him. Truly, their employer must think highly of the dangers of this island, if a group such as this was assembled. These individuals radiated with power, more so than even grizzled veterans with twice their time in combat.
I must keep the scholars alive, he thought to himself. The knowledge they glean will prove useful to nations of people. Nations that yet exist."
Elise stands somewhere in between Flynt and Tsadok, her arms crossed over her chest. She is tall, but not tall enough to match her half orc companion. Her hair is kept in a thick blonde braid and she wears a red tabard with embroidered runes - no doubt of Ulfen origin. Underneath the tabard she wears a red scale armour and more practical clothing of northern design.
She sees the island as a challenge to be overcome - something that can and should be beaten. There can be no other acceptable outcome then triumph - and this attitude is reflected with a anticipative grin on her face.
Flynt's cigar attracts a quick disapproving glance from her but she quickly refocuses herself on the knight briefing them. He should really pay more attention - but on the other hand, I can't blame him for not listening to this buffoon. The half-elf clearly had combat experience but wasn't really looking like he might accompany them down the pit. Southerners and their lead from the back mentality!
It is clear from Elise look that she doesn't really care much for the knight - especially since he appeared to disrespect her newest companion. Nevertheless, she makes an effort to remain civil and focus on the task at hand.
"Tar-Baphon - where have I heard that before?"
She tries to recall if she read or heard that name earlier under her travels.
The awkward but toned human male who is trying to impress the ladies, even Elise if she has her helm off speaks up, "Tar-Baphon was a powerful wizard-king who ruled central Avistan at the end of the 9th century AR. Killed by the god Aroden himself in 896 AR. Much of the early life of the infamous Tar-Baphon is shrouded in myth and mystery, for he must have been born nearly four millennia ago. What is known for certain is that the wizard-king Tar-Baphon lived in the 9th century AR and was widely known as a powerful necromancer. He eventually attracted the attention of the god Aroden himself. Tar-Baphon sought immortality and possibly looked down upon the Last Azlanti for not having ascended to godhood on his own, but for having had to rely on the power of the Starstone. Whatever the true cause of their disagreement was, the two came into conflict, which ended when Aroden killed the wizard-king on the Isle of Terror in a mighty battle in 896 AR. This is why my father is sending me to the Isle of Terror. To either see what is in motion or to see if Tar-baphon is up to no good which includes ascension to the position of God of Magic. If an evil archmage of great power becomes the God of Magic, it will destabilize the balance of our universe and perhaps beyond? This destabilization may be the end of Golarion and definitely the end of a lot of innocent beings on this planet."
Jeremiah attempts to see past the mask that Lionel has put up as a general. It looks like he has faith that you'll succeed at least partially, if almost feels like he's had this talk before but he is more helpful this time. When Lionel passes over Tsadok it's almost as if he doesn't want to be held in the same room. Lionel is holding something back, likely for the good of the mission.
The Knights of Ozem have a long standing hatred of orcs, often having to fend off huge invasions of their lands. Most knights know to hold back their feelings against half-orcs but it doesn't stop it hitting a sore spot.
Lionel shakes his head at Amelia sombrely "No young lady, you are not the first to go. However you are right none have come back alive, or at least the same shall we say. There have been husks of our men we sent come back trying to kill some of our scouts. It was not a pretty sight. You will get to be the first to tell the tale of the well of sorrows if you come back alive."
Lionel shrugs at the mention of Tar-Baphon's extended history "This is why it is dangerous, the researchers presume there are still some undead or something that turns people undead in the Well. This is likely why our men came back as shambling mounds of flesh and bone instead of people. You Pathfinders likely have seen your fair share of creatures like this, I doubt they would be much of a problem to you compared to my men." Lionel folds his arms and continues. "Tar-Baphon while considered a strong necromancer is still a Wizard-King so there is likely more than necromancy afoot. He was powerful enough to shape lands to himself, some say that he made the Isle of Terror himself. Whether that is true doesn't really matter, though it does mean he wields a lot of power. Even in death. I am surprised a necromancer would not have a contingent plan based upon his own death, though anything can happen in this place."
Lionel places his hands on his hips, posing his legs shoulder width apart and address the group as if they were soldiers. Seems like this is out of habit. "Any other questions? Or shall I had you over to the researchers so they might educate you a little on the known dangers herein?"
The tall older human seems out of place in a room full of young heroes, though despite his white hair he seems to move easily - even fluidly. A voluminous cloak encompasses simple, practical travelling wear. A keen eye might note the hilts of two thin longswords of elven make also encompassed by the cloak.
The truly keen eye might note how the cloak fails to ripple in an errant breeze that makes its way through the tent flap. It might find curious that the hem of the cloak is not dirty.
Eerily brilliant blue eyes peer intently at Lionel, but Alþórel remains quiet. While Nethan recounts Tar-Baphon's history Alþórel is struck by the ghost of a memory. A memory of a young man's face.
And what might Tar-Baphon have become had he not sought to trade his life and soul for power? Another Aroden? Something more? A shorter life, perhaps, but a better one.
As it was he was slain. A powerful wizard, with no morals or limits, seeking revenge on a God? What might he have done? What calamity might wait to be unleashed? Another Age of Darkness? What disaster lies in wait for the world if not stopped here by heroes?
And what heroes! Calathar and Dreyyn - the Sun and the Prince. It seems the Brightness gathers its best hopes here. I cannot let them fall before they follow their path.
All this is kept quietly in his head, and aloud he says only "There are precautions that can be taken to prevent such fates - warding and protections. Had your men been so protected?"
What Nethan said corresponds to what she heard aswell, but he added some interesting titbits. She gives him an amused smile and adds, thick with a melodic accent:
"Why yes - I heard that the current God of Magic is a most stable individual indeed!"
Tsadok, knowing what Lionel and the Knights of Ozem have been through, is fully understanding of Lionel's unease, for Tsadok has similar feelings nearly every day. He has been through hell trying to earn the trust respect that other's are willing to give to strangers, but not to Tsadok, even after he saves their lives, and their villages. He has learned to distrust those who seem "normal" until they truly earn his trust, which is something only Elise and Jeremiah have done. So he is fully understanding of Lionel's feelings.
Tsadok cares not who Tar-Baphon is. He hadn't heard that name before today, for he lived with orcs for part of his life, and in the wilderness the rest. To Tsadok, he sounded like just another tyrant, hoping to rule the world. Tsadok did listen to Nethan's account, though, for he has learned better than to underestimate people.
Tsadok remains silent, however, as he simply wishes to head off to this "Well of Sorrows" and be done with it.
Nethan is mainly mingling with Amelia, Dreyyn, and Calathar off and on though it appears that Nethan is being a little competitive with the oracle by puffing out his chest to appear bigger and basically "trying" too hard to impress someone or someones. You know, the type who had too much schooling, and not enough social interaction.
Nethan is a young human lad, obviously a little socially awkward, standing about the same height as most of the warriors, and although he is not as well built as them, he is stronger than most scholars or scholar-like individuals past and present. He is wearing your typical adventuring outfit, however what stands out the most is his exquisitely crafted black and white circlet, his black and white scarf, he is wearing no armor, and the only weapon he is carrying is a light crossbow. Lastly, he is wearing a holy symbol made of gold or what appears to be gold and a finely crafted backpack on his back.
Nethan nods at Alþórel statement, "I agree my scholarly friend, precautions could have been made. I believe Lionel and associates under estimated the Witch-king's power or that is all the fodder they had at the time" Nethan looks to Lionel with a displeasing look...
Nethan gives Elise a flirtatious grin and becomes increasingly serious as he continues to speak, "It is true that Nethys is not a sane or a humble god but at least we are still alive and we have magic because of him which I am grateful for besides Nethys being my father. And please do not assume that he will save us or I receive some special treatment because I don't. Nethys' believes that what happens was meant to happen. In addition half of his soul believes that he should destroy Golarion while the other half believes Golarion is worth saving. Do you agree that Golarion is worth saving which is probably the reason we are all here especially when it has something to do with a powerful archmage witch-king?"
... Nethan pauses, "Oh by the way, I am Nethan Ryon Akerman but I prefer to be called Nethan and nothing else!"
Lionel addresses Alþórel "They had some protection yes, though admittedly not as much as I would have placed if I had known earlier what was down there. Hindsight is perfect as they say, I fear though despite my confidence in my men they stand little chance against what is down there. I do not wish to let them throw away their lives. You all have strength of more than 10 of my men, I am certain you have ways to prevent what had befallen my men." He says with a somewhat heavy heart. Lionel speaks as if the death of his men was a personal failing on his part. Even if he wasn't to know what could happen.
Lionel lets the thought hang awkwardly in the air, the half-elf is deep in thought. Maybe it is a moment of silence for his men, or he is holding his emotions inside. Either way the bitter past hangs for a few moments before someone speaks up again.
Nethan's look turns into one of sorrow and does something the God of Magic certainly would not do. Nethan approaches Lionel, and places his hand on his shoulder, "It wouldn't be fair to speak for everyone but I will do everything in my power to make sure your men's death were not in vain and to stop whatever Tar-baphon is up to or what he set in motion years ago."
He has humour - atleast some of it
"Lucky us that he woke up on the right side this morning then, wont you say?"
As she listens to Lionel she stops grinning out of respect and turns serious.
"I'm sure we are up to the task - the fallen will have their vengeance" She starts to grin again and adds "As long as we are not expected to carry as much as ten of your men each - wouldn't want to tire before we are done!"
Nethan looks to Elise and surprised by her wit, returns another flirtatious grin, "Yes, I agree he woke up on the right side of bed this morning or millennium anyway." ... he lets out a small respectful laugh.
Nethan smiles once again to Elise for her witty "carrying the men" comment, "Yes yes, that would be quite tiring indeed!"
Lionel eyes dart between Nethan and Elist then he lets out a sigh. "Thank you for your concerns, though I am unsure if Tar-Baphon is the sole perpetrator to the events. Perhaps someone is messing with the traps. In a few hours you'll likely be more knowledgeable than me on that front."
Lionel does chuckle a little at the small joke. "I would be intrigued to see the wizard here to lift 10 men with his strength alone sans magic. Anyway, joking aside let me bring in one of the researchers. Sienna!" He shouts.
A middle age female dwarf comes running through the tent. She has many scrolls strapped securely to her belt and has a few scrying devices in her pockets and a few writing implements spread haphazardly in her pockets. She has thick brown hair that she has tied up into a pony tail that starts from the crown of her head. "Yessir!" Sienna says as she brings herself alongside the much taller Knight.
She curtseys despite the lack of a dress on her. "Hi Hi Hi my friends. You are to brave the depths of the well? Yes good good. Now I must say you have the basics right.. rope, light, food, spare limbs.."
Lionel gives lets out a shout abrupt shout. "Sienna! Focus!"
"Sorry yes sir." Sienna salutes him before continuing. "Sorry sorry, you have the basics. Things to watch out for yes? The dead walk, no surprise there. No no, more endangering is things not of this world. From what plane I don't know, never seen them elsewhere or documented anywhere. Mysterious beings, I caught a glimpse of one or two! So I am first hand knowledge, trust me, magic with them is bizarre. The creature I saw at least, look like a big behemoth but almost too perfect. Its features obviously didn't grow naturally, can't be. I don't know yet but at least that is one of the dangers I know. Take notes! Behemoth! Quadruped! Large! Unstable Magic! Will tear limbs off!" She catches her breath for a moment, she said all of that on a single breath.
"Right .. other .. other.. err.. traps, you know, the kind with lasers. You know what to do? Break it, don't stand in lasers! Very bad! Well there is more than just lasers, but you know... Tar-Baphon was imaginative. Watch your step! The place is a labyrinth, take care of where you step. It goes down of course, it is a well, so you need to go down to the first level. Be careful, beyond that opening I don't know anything else. That was notes taken standing a good 500ft away with a spyglass." Sienna continues.
Lionel in the meanwhile rolls his eyes and the speed she is explaining all this. Sienna brings her hands behind her head and cradles her head in them. "So.. that help?!"
Nethan takes his hand off Lionel and nods to him, "Perhaps? And that is why we are here, to find out what is going on." ... Then walks over to be around Elise, her wit has attracted his attention.
When Sienna enters and starts rambling, Nethan inquisitively looks at the even more socially awkward Dwarf, "Excuse me Sienna, what are lasers? I am not familiar with this term?
Tsadok, while slightly annoyed at the amount of talking this dwarf did, quickly composes himself and says "Of course it helps. Going into a dangerous area such as this, all information you can give us is invaluable."
After those words, Tsadok seems very eager to leave. He wants to be finished with this "Isle of Terror" business as soon as possible.
"Your scouts kill any of these things?" Flynt spoke up for the first time since putting his boots on the soil of this island. Pulling his coat open he pulls his only weapon from its holster and gave it a once over. To the uninitiated, it would look like a small crossbow made of dull metal and probably be about as threatening as one.
His keen eyes glanced over at the wizard sidling closer to his friend. They lingered long enough to let him know Flynt was observant but then turned away. Elise was a tough one, she could handle herself.
Satisfied, he holstered his weapon and focused his attention on relighting his cigar. The cold and damp air up here made it difficult to maintain this particular bad habit. At least it was not affecting his powder.
Nethan looks to Amelia and flirts (or attempts to) by boosting her confidence and/or status within the group, "Amelia is terrific at disarming traps. She played a pivotal role in disarming some of the cunning traps set by the Thassilonian Runelords when we she guided me through the Thassolian ruins in Varisia. She is no doubt an asset for this mission."
, -
Nethan must have been checking out Elise or flirting with Amelia because he totally missed Jermiah measuring him up as a potential threat to Elise. However, the dull metal object captured his scholarly (aka geeky) eye. Nethan casually walks up to Jeremiah and whispers to him,
"Traps, monsters, undead and dismemberment? Did I miss anything - right! 'Lazers'"
She emphasises the last word as if savouring it - obviously trying to make sense of what it is. Flynts look catches her gaze and she gives Nethans back a quick look of disbelief as he walks over to the gunslinger. She ponders for a second then sees them whispering and an idea strikes her.
She moves over to the opposing side of Flynt from Nethan with a devious grin on her face, waiting a few moment for their conversation to end before addressing him.
After a few seconds she glances over to Nethan and gives him a big grin, adding:
She gives Flynt a powerful pat on the back - barley containing her amusement. Seconds later however she laughs hearty and adds smilingly:
"Guess I owe you both an ale or something!"
Nethan turns red in the face and laughs because he knows there is nothing he can say that will sound good, Nethan takes a bow to Elise, "Well played my lady." Then walks on the other side of Elise distancing himself from Jeremiah.
"I always worry when people pick me out of a crowd to chat with," Flynt said, recovering from the slight stumble Elise's companionable pat caused him. "You've got a good eye but it's a Cairnminer, part of their Blue Moon run. The 56 was a mass production knock off."
Recovering Elise's playful zing, Nethan's geek in him can not resist, "Oh wow, a Cairnminer?! I read that model is an exceptional one indeed! It is hard to tell the difference between the 56 and Cairnminer from a distance. It isn't until you start shooting them can you tell, or so I have read." ... Nethan looks back at Sienna, "I digress, please continue what the definition of a laser is?
Dreyyn breaks his silence, asking "What is our threshold for reporting? For instance, are there matters of a routine nature that we should look beyond? Also, how are we to report? Magically? Or hoofing it? I presume carrier crow is out of the question."
As he speaks, he shifts his weight and looks at the host of devices on Sienna's belt. His demeanor and speech are reminiscent of a noble, coupled with the self-confidence of a warrior with little to fear.
Alþórel's mind is old, but his heart - and body - is young. Watching the young wizard dance between flirtation and intellectual curiosity awakens a desire to do the same. To compare knowledge, to compete for romance.
He sighs.
His heart may be young, but his mind is old. While age may not bring wisdom, it brings experience. He has seen scenes like this before. Young people facing great danger and letting every emotion but fear rule them. Destined heroes discovering they had peers.
"Sienna. Even small things may be important. There are precautions that can be taken for searing hot, freezing cold or vaporous poisonous - but each precaution weakens us overall. You say you have first hand knowledge? Would you share that knowledge?"
Sienna is shocked at the group before pondering for a moment. "Ah I guess you know not much about the Technic league and robots or clockwork constructs? Right right, don't worry lasers are similar to magic but magic is not required. Better explanation! Beams of intense light focused through machinery think of it like a very focused fire spell! However you can't use antimagic precautions to stop it since it comes from a mechanical device!" Sienna scratches her head then replies to Amelia "Lasers are shot from devices, think of them like your friend's gun here. Often hidden in walls or robot. I haven't seen much of the traps but I would guess they are you know, similar to dart traps.. probably? I have just seen the results." Sienna starts to rub the back of her leg with the opposite foot as she starts thinking of the other questions.
Sienna shakes her head at Jeremiah. "No slowed some of em down, but we didn't manage to kill one. Much too tough for them!"
A bulb lights up in Sienna's head after Dreyyn addresses her. "Oh yea! Contact right right." She routs around through the things on her belt. "Here Here" She hands dreyyn a scroll. "This here is a ritual casted scroll of sending. It was done by some of the greater orcales of Lastwall. It contains 5 castings of the spell, use it wisely!"
Sienna nods at Alþórel "Yes Yes I told you, first hand of behemoth. Careful they make odd noises when they more, sort of like metal grinding on metal. Though are very big otherworldly moving creatures! I have seen those as ... er... guards... that help? In the centre of well there is a platform that you can tie a rope too. Traps start to trigger just past there. You go down then you on your own. No idea what is beyond, everyone died."
Sienna has been hopping from one leg to another trying to convey her message, she hopes the pathfinders have understood her ramblings.
Nethan nods in understanding, "No Sienna, I have not read about the Technic League. Do you have a copy or a copy of a Tome I can borrow regarding the Technic League, these robots, and clockwork constructs so I can be enlightened? In turn, help our party, our fellowship, defeat these new and deadly opponents. In addition, I am guessing these traps are also more "technic" than magical? Lastly, do you know if there are any magical dead zones where we are going?" ...The warrior in Nethan started to think about what is tactically effective, "Oh one more thing, did you capture any "technic" weapons that would be more effective against these technics and are they available to us?"
"my thanks," Dreyyn says, taking the scroll. He then turns to Alþórel and Nethan, holding out the scroll for whichever of the two would like to take it.
She trusts that the others will manage the details about logistics and trapfinding so she focuses on the martial aspects of the journey. Siennas description of their unfamiliar foes is what catches Elise attention-
Behemoths of steel ? Hmm - arcanists sometimes create golems... But I suspect that they would have managed to identify them if that was the case. The Lord in Irons servants are also rumoured to emulate him. But I don't think they would be content to remain only in such a confined space. Or do they - she didn't say anything about that ...
"These - Behemoths - do they venture forth from the pit ? Or do they remain inside it? Has anyone tried to lure one out to dismember it and see what makes it tick - so to speak. I'm sure you all would love to poke around inside one!"
She directs the first part of the query towards Sienna but the last part is also aimed at the two mages, Nethan and Alþórel.
Tsadok is intrigued about these "lasers" after hearing Sienna's explanation. If they are like Jeremiah's gun, a weapon that already packs a powerful punch, but shooting fire, then that is certainly a weapon Tsadok would like to get his hands on.
Tsadok doesn't say anything, however, for he wishes to leave as soon as possible.
Nethan looks at Alþórel, "You can take the scroll if you prefer. It does not matter to me. I have plenty of room in my pack. ... Nethan catches Elise eye and hint, then jokes around by smiling real big, and rubbing his hands together like a kid wanting candy or a burglar wanting the largest gem on Golarion.
"The traps are mechanical in natures at least at glance, I haven't bee inside the place yet. Just seen it, after all it is a well. You can look in a little ways!" Sienna shrugs "And no, we didn't get any weapons, we have gone there, gotten some scouts killed and seen undead after viewing the place for a bit before fleeing."
Sienna tilts her head towards Elise. "Well... the behemoth did come out then dismembered a few men, that's why you need more limbs. So we can so you back together! Some of the men tried to fight it but yea, they met their makers very quickly. Sadly, that's what you get for poking gribbily stuff I suppose!" Sienna gives a half hearted laugh.
Nethan holds back his frustration with the even more eccentric female Dwarf and ponders if this is some revenge conspiracy for Nethan's own eccentric qualities. "Sienna, does this mean you do not have a Tome I speak of? ... And again, do you know if there anti-magic zones down there?"
Flynt snorts when the discussion turns to the subject of magic. Unlike the others, magic was something relatively new to him. Back in the Wastes, magic simply could not be relied upon regularly and often proved outright dangerous to attempt. Even now, Flynt had a hard time trusting magic to take care of him.
"Perhaps the time has come to put the blade to bone." Dreyyn says matter-of-factly, anticipating departure.
Strong-jawed, sandy blond hair, honest eyes, golden skin. The aasimar radiated quiet confidence and competence in his gold-chased armor and pure white samite cloak.
Calathar has been leaning against Sienna's desk, arms folded over his chest, listening and thinking. He'd long since learned to let Alþórel and Nethan ask the initial questions. But he'd never allowed anyone else do his thinking.
"Why are the Knights sending us to this well, particularly?" he asks. "Why assume the Well of Sorrows is the source of the problem on the Isle of Terror?"
"I think the idea of luring a Behemoth is a good one." says Alþórel, taking the scroll and stowing it wordlessly.
"Even Tar-Baphon's resources were not infinite. The Undead are expected from a necromancer like the Whispering Tyrant. These Behemoths are an unknown, and may provide clues as to what we face further in and further down."
"Either we face them, or we go past them to the platform, descend and hope they do not close on us as we attempt to bypass the traps."
Nethan nods at Alþórel comments and responds, "Indeed luring is an outstanding tactic but we do not know if it will work since we are not 100% sure of the Behemoth's intelligence and capabilities but it does not hurt to make the attempt. Or as Alþórel stated, it may be better to avoid the Behemoths all together if disabling them are not a requirement to open a portal or the well. And while Tar-baphon's resources are not infinite, it will seem like it for he was or is a powerful archmage. Regardless, we probably all know that we will be in the fight for our lives and perhaps others?"
"Hmpf - I suppose bypassing them would be the best option - but that might mean that they will come and bite us in the back - literally - when we go deeper. Sneaking around is not my strongest suit. I would cast my vote on that we go and see for ourselves and consider our options then."