"You lost control of yourself there. Let's start over. Greetings Margaret. My name is Seldiliel. We're agents of the Pathfinder Society and we're here looking for a missing opera singer."
"I lost control? Oh dear, did I nod off? The schedule can be so exhausting some days..." A look of concern takes over as she peers at Seldiliel. "Missing? One of the performers? How terrible..."
"Ah, yes! She was rehearsing late just the other night. I heard her practicing a soliloquy, when all of a sudden there was a scuffle, muffled footsteps, and muffled screams. I suppose it could have been real trouble, but I wouldn’t interrupt over something like that—not after the lecture I got after interrupting the last diva to stalk these halls. No, no…” The scissors clip, a rapid snip-snip, snip-snip as the last words trail through gritted teeth.
"Well why wouldn't they talk to me, the same as you are? I am in charge of dressing up the ladies so they look like proper stars out on the stage, just as important a task as any other!" Margaret shoots a dark look at the floor. "Minerva was her name, not that anyone remembers her now. Thought she was a rising star, when all her light was just a flash in the pan..." Snip-snip, snip-snip...
"Screams? Oh no, I didn't hear anything tonight. Just that night Olivina was practicing." Margaret taps her chin with the point of her bloody scissors. "If you're asking where she went, I did find the back door open later on, and the sewer grate was ajar. She's a sharp-tongued harpy, but no actor deserves being dragged off by swampers like that." Narrowed eyes glance in the direction of the stage. "Maybe Minerva..." Snip. Snip. Snip.
"Well, I certainly didn't SEE anything, no. But no one knows the tunnels like the swampers do." A satisfied smile creeps along her lips, the sigh accompanying it full and throaty. "So many tales of the desperate seekings out witches and werebeasts in the mire, begging for cures, curses, and more. Call on them, they will answer. If they didn't take her, they'll know who did! Go out to the sinking manor if you want to ask, it's carved with the signs of the swamp god there in Graidmere. Speak aloud three times, 'dark marsh, dark secrets, I petition thee'. The swamp listens, and they will answer."
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"Hey, Tak, I guess I owe you an apology. It sounds like all that information about the sewers is turning out to be relevant. You must have some great powers of augury indeed. Perhaps we should use your powers to find out more information. Six questions, you say? How about first, is Oliviana still alive? Second, are there still clues to find in the theatre? Did the agency who kidnapped Oliviana do it for money? Did they do it for revenge? I'm sure we could think of more questions, those are just off the top of my head."
Tak communes with the aeons for answers,
Yes.
No.
No.
Yes.
No.
Traps abound on multiple paths.
The door to the back alley opens easily once more, the party filling the lane comfortably. The grate mentioned by Mad Margaret is obvious and slides easily aside with a little effort.
Below, the waters of the sewerways move swift, although the scum along the walls still assails the nose with rancid fumes. There appears to be no causeway to either side, leaving any passage in the muck of sewage runoff.
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Seldiliel talks to Nibbles in Elven, "Go swim ahead a little and see how deep that water is for us, will you?
That water is moving pretty quickly. I'm not a strong swimmer, so hopefully it's shallow enough to walk in.
If Nibbles reports back that the water is shallow enough to walk in, Seldiliel will take her first reluctant step into the streaming filth.
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Chusynd complies with Sahess' request. May the light of Aroden guide your way! He then returns to his place as rear guard for the party.
He gives each of his companions a coin, on which one side is smooth and the other side bears the image of an eye with wings. This will help keep you safe as we travel.
With a happy little squeak, Nibble clambers down the stone wall of the sewer tunnel. A quiet splash follows as the rat dives into the water, disappearing for long moments before slipping out of the murk to climb back up. Grooming wet fur, Seldiliel hears it speak, although the party can make neither head nor tail of the chirps.
As Sahess drops down at Seldileil's acknowledgement, the cool runoff seems to slide around her legs more than flow. There is little indication of direction to follow.
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Sahess does not have the tracking capability to notice that variety of detail. "I do not suppose they told you which way to go, Tak?" She seems very displeased by the smells, which she can nearly taste, and the tight spaces, not to mention the corners. There could be ambushes from below or the sides, and potentially above depending on ceiling height.
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"I agree with Sahess; we should let Tak do the orienting for us. He seems to be the most competent among us at that sort of thing. Everyone else stay alert, we don't know what horrors may be down here with us."
Seldiliel has a prismatic crystal which sheds 10 feet of dim light, but she can also cast her light spell on something of Thoriel's, if she would like. Seldiliel also casts another heightened awareness on herself, just in case.
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"We did not get a direction, but if I'm in the second rank I should be able to spot most things."
Tak kneels and his eyes dart around his surrounding. He exhales, leaving his lungs empty to better feel the air.
"I have not don't much tracking since I was a boy but it seems that at least today my memory is sharp. West."
The party's enchantments push back the pitch darkness of the sewer tunnel, which is otherwise only broken by the intermittent torch light filtering through regular grates above. The going is slow through others goings, and at times the odors threaten to overwhelm, especially at junctions where the flow becomes sluggish or blocked by detritus.
After the better part of half an hour, Tak notices no further signs of passage. The only other path besides the continuing tunnel is a sewer grate with dim light around. A quick look around confirms that you are approaching the delta at the west side of town, not far from the bridge over the waters of the Moutray.
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Seldiliel stops and turns her head slightly to the side, like she is trying to listen to something. Her knuckles whiten as her hands form two tense fists.
WE WILL MAKE THEM SUFFER UNIMAGINABLE PAIN FOR THIS INDIGNITY! WHEN WE FIND THEM WE WILL DRAG THE BACK TO THE SEWERS, BACK TO THE DARKNESS AND WE WILL...
Get back in your cage! I didn't say you could come out! I'll tell you when you can come out!
Seldiliel rubs her temples with a pained look on her face and takes a few long, deep breaths before collecting herself. "It looks like we're on the right trail. Excellent work, Tak. Let see where it leads us."
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"She said to seek out the sinking manor. That sounds like a place that the locals would know about."
If no one else has any better ideas, Selidiliel will clean herself up the best she can with prestidigitation and will start approaching swampers to find out if they know anything about a sinking manor.
Selidiliel is able to hail a few passersby to inquire about the swamp. The half-elven man pushes up his spectacles with a slightly incredulous look. "You want to go to the swamp? It's to the northwest, across the delta. I don't know of a manor, but I imagine it would be deeper in than I've ever been. I'm no madman." Despite the unhelpfulness of his answers, Tak feels he can navigate to the location with a little effort, thanks to the ghost's ravings.