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The acid flasks explode on the swarm and they stop before they even become a real threat. The various vermin scattering into the waste or the many cracks in the sewer.
Continuing down the sewers you soon reach another intersection where a minor sewer line flows into the main line from the south. Graffiti covers much of the walls here, most of it simple drawings. Prominent among them is a large stylized drawing of a wyvern in shiny gray paint (signifying that the Steel Wyvern’s claim this territory). Also among them is an image of a skull crawling with bugs and an arrow pointing back to the west (a warning about the dangerous insects at the previous junction), and a representation of a beggar’s bowl holding a coin and a key with an arrow pointing to the south. Underneath the picture of the bowl is the word “Almsman.”
Pressing on, the Pathfinders see a faint light glimmers in the dark after traveling another half hour or so. Slowly it resolves into a crude lantern held by a toothless old beggar who holds a chair leg in his other hand. Beside him stands a scrawny youth, similarly armed but obviously terrified. Behind the two derelicts is an open door bearing the symbol of the beggar’s bowl, coin, and key.
An old man watches you warily and speaks If yer intentions be peaceful, Abadar makes you welcome.
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Eadie thinks back to the VC's briefing.
"The Almsman, whom he repeatedly mentions, is rumored to be an eccentric priest who runs some sort of hidden beggar’s sanctuary in the sewers. He may know where our prince’s portal is, if you can find him."
Hmm … so the Almsman is a priest of the Master of the First Vault?
Eadie genuflects before the mortal representative of her faith.
“The Order of Numbers says: ‘For unto us is given a role to play that fits perfectly with all others. When performing this role, we bring bring order and peace to all who serve their part.”
“Father, we seek peaceful resolution to a quest to find the path to a mysterious portal within your diocese. Do you know of this portal and where it may be found?”
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Eadie frowns as she turns to face Ol’ Deadeye’s enforcer.
“A gaffer? GRIM!! You can’t refer to an ordained priest of Abadar as a ‘gaffer.’ That’d be like calling Lore a ‘hot chick’ or Fleetwood an ‘old dude.’ "
Eadie realizes what she’s said and wide-eyed and open-mouthed, her head snaps back in the direction of her clerical companions, to gauge their reaction to her *ahem* gaff.
The warrior can hear her Aunt Alix’s voice in her mind …
You really just open your mouth to change feet, don’t you Dear?
“Umm, bankers, accountants or even tellers are normal forms of address for Abadarian priests. But I suspect the good Almsman here belongs to a more radical sect. Maybe we should just follow Lore's example and make a contribution to the collection plate?”
Eadie drops a gold piece into the Almsman’s bowl.
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The man just nods at the Pathfinders and allows them in. He doesn't answer any of the questions you direct to him. Lore realizes, that the man likely doesn't know the answers and likely doesn't even know what the questions are really about. He doesn't even accept Grim's gold coin.
Beyond the door, a short flight of steps leads up into what appears to be the basement crypt of a church of Abadar. Perhaps two dozen beggars huddle among sarcophagi, some sleeping, some haggling over bits of junk or scraps of food laid out on blankets.
You see a tall, lean man wearing a mask made of copper. He looks you all up and down and then very calmly and coolly speaks. If you respect this sanctuary, I offer you what sanctuary I have. Otherwise, be gone.
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D’oh! Seems like we were speaking to the monkey instead of the organ-grinder.
Eadie pretty much repeats to the real Almsman what she said to the doorman, but otherwise hangs back to let the diplomats go to work. If Lore repeats her offer of 1gp for the collection plate, the warrior woman will follow suit.
She thinks back to the ‘Black Dragon’s’ tattoo and some of the other things he was doing while she waits.
"...And this is...my sister. What else do you need?"
Yeah, right …
“Hey, Lhug-mor. Those things you were smoking before, do you roll them yourself?”
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"I do, would you like one while we wait to get tied up in more problems that are likely not our business?" Without waiting, he extracts a bundle of burlap cloth from his saddle bag and opens it exposing generous and carefully wraped portions of meat, cheese, and bread. There is enough for several men, being enough food for five days for one man. "I was going to have lunch, perhaps you men would like to join me?" Laying the food out neatly on a barrelhead, he extracts his tobacco puch and begins handrolling another twist. Finishing the job with a slathering lick, he produces another from his sleeve as if by magic. Apparently he was about to light one anyway. He offers a twist and a grin to the young warrior woman, extending them in a V for her to try to remember which one he just licked.
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Without conscious thought, Eadie takes one of the offered cigarettes.
No doubt his saliva is on both of them. Anyway, Lhug-mor looks to be a clean-living kinda guy.
"Thanks. I normally only smoke when I'm drinking, but I'll have one with you now to be sociable."
It's obvious to anyone that's ever smoked from the way Eadie is holding the roll-up down by her side that she doesn't even realise she needs to put the cigarette in her mouth so that it can be lit.
She looks down at the item in question. How is this any kind of moral quandary? I've already taken another man's life, for Peete's sake.
Eadie thinks back to that hot day in Qadira. The gang leader - old enough to be her father - of roughly equal skill to her own. Threatening her companions. A legitimate target and her responsibility to take down. So she had. No big deal - just doing her job. Terminating the life of a fellow human being. Someone's son with their own hopes and dreams.
Why the heck am I thinking like this now? I'm a soldier. It's the life I'VE chosen ... This is crazy.
"You're the Dragon, right?"
Eadie looks the Chelaxian man straight in the eye.
"Got a light?"
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Prior to the diplomatic proceedings Fleetwood takes a gander of our surroundings, checking for anything amiss.
Fleetwood then humble meanders towards the Almsman and "respectfully" states:
"Good sir, we thank you for our temporary shelter and we respectfully mean none harm. One question before I take my rest, could it be that you have seen a shimmering portal near?"
Attempting to confirm his masks symbolism.
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The portal aye, I can show you where it be. However, I must ask a favor in exchange for that knowledge. If you made it this far into the sewers, then you must know about the Steel Wyvern, yes? You don't look their normal type, anyway.
They are forcing me to pay them money that I don't have. They threatened to destroy what I have here. They I fear that they might be coming soon. Any help that you can offer would be beneficial.
'Wood sees three men in the small chamber that appear to have been infected with some type of disease.
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Hmm … would be nice for US to set up an ambush against an enemy for a change …
Roll-up still in hand, Eadie says to the Almsman, “When are you expecting the Wyverns and how many are there likely to be, Father?”
“Is it possible for all of us to borrow a beggar’s robe each? That way we can hide in plain sight and hit the extortionists hard with surprise. What does everyone think?”
Eadie will then try and help the healers with the diseased beggars.
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You have 2 hours. There is no furniture other than immovable sarcophagi (3 feet high) in the sanctuary, but there is a plank bridge nearby. The doors in the sanctuary are sturdy wooden doors (break DC 18), but can be reinforced with planks, making them equivalent to strong wooden doors (break DC 23). Beyond this, let the PCs be creative in their defense plan.
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The Dragon mutters something about people minding their business while he strikes a tinder twig for Eadie. "I trust you know this sect well enough to know we aren't supporting some Necromantic Doom Cult against the Holy Order of Steel Wyvrens? I would hate to be on the wrong side of this." He takes his shield off his back and grumbles more to himself.
He finds the choke points surrounding the sanctuary and rigs debris to clutter the ceiling and interfere with incoming ranged attacks. He then postions debris to slow the attackers entering those points and hindering any retreat.
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Noticing the young warrior is confused as to who he us muttering about, he confides, "I speak of these self righteous missionary types. Not you. You've got Yǒngqi... guts. Good idea about the beggars robes, and they might mistake me for a moment in my peasant's clothing. Until they see this," adjusting his katana. "More than one have made that mistake. Ask me about this one later," as he pulls back his peasant's robe to show a an upper back tattoo of a city skyline that is engulfed in a firestorm.
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Observing Luhgmor's defensive fortifications Fleetwood's sense of vengeance begins to rise and in a voice loud enough for the troup to hear "After I tend to these three I plan on smashing a few extorting wyrms myself! Our smoldering friend makes a good point though as I'd hate to get blindsided from a secret entrance."
When 'Wood is finished healing (or not healing based upon the Almsman's reaction):
Checking for other entrances, cache's and the like...
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Eadie nods her thanks to Lhug-mor and jams the stogie between her teeth and thinks.
Bleh!! This tastes horrible. I wonder if it looks cool? Hmm … there’s definitely an image angle to consider … I guess if I do ever get knighted or become a VC, I can always say I never inhaled.
"Other than hidin behind sarcophagi as cover and shootin from behind it, I think ye gots it covered Lhug-mor. Ladies, anything more to add?"
“Not really, Grim. I find simple plans the easiest to remember. Have I got this right, Lhug-mor?”
“Set up some difficult terrain at the entranceway with the plank wood, giving us time to hit them with bombs and ranged weapons while they’re surpised.”
“As they come to us, the melee types move from cover to hit them from both sides, and hopefully flank them in a pincer-style manoeuvre.”
“The clerics could pre-cast Bless type buffs, channel to heal or cast ranged fire spells. Yeah?”
“Hopefully we’ll be able to pump those filthy animals’ bellies full of steel.”
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“Grim, I think we’ll hear them at the doors as long as we stay pretty quiet.”
“I’m thinking that should give us time to get a buff or two up. ‘Wood, it would be nice to have Bless up before this kicks off.”
“I think we should set cover up on top of the two southern sarcophagi. Two fighters – and I’m including you in that definition, Ru – behind each of them on either side. Maybe, Grim and Lhug on one side ; Eadie and Ruprecht on the other.”
“The clerics can stay back in relative safety and heal or do ranged attacks – whatever they prefer.”
“If we get the initiative, fighters delay until Ru throws a bomb into their midst and Lore hits them with flame at range with no cover penalties, then the fighters rush into melee. Ru, I plan on shielding you if you want to use your spear with reach.”
Eadie pauses for breath. “What have I missed?”