"A test? Then you are to blame!" Shechera screams, standing up and brandishing her dagger. Sensing your next response, she interrupts, "You, or those you work for, makes no difference to me. Either this was part of your ridiculous test, or they were so negligent as to not test it properly and lure we explorers down here to our doom."
Merelen nods along with Shechera, and then takes up her line, as dispassionately as before, "My companion makes a just point, this ill conceived test is the fault of your Society. I believe you that the mechanical man and lethal trap outside were an accident, but..."
"You believe anything!" mutters Shechera under her breath.
"... but, without the clues set out by your superiors, we would never have come further into the dungeons to meet this grisly fate. Now, before any more is said, you will answer my questions. You have not yet told us if you have learned the fate of Harlo the Tooth."
The more astute members of the party know for sure now that he is concealing something, but you equally are aware that you will need to gain their friendship and trust before more is revealed.
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"Now, hang on a moment. The Pathfinder Society has used this complex for tests for years, dozens of similar tests, without incident. The only thing different this time is you lot barging in here, doing who knows what, and setting off who knows what. 'Without the clues set out by your superiors?' That's the same logic as a burglar saying, 'If you hadn't come home unexpectedly, I would never have gotten caught, so it's your fault I'm in jail!'"
Mors takes a deep breath to calm himself. "I'm afraid your friend didn't survive. He tried to run for the exit, but had lost too much blood from the machine man, and passed out in the corridor just outside the room where you fought it."
"Burglars? HA!" screeches Shechera, "From what I've heard of the Pathfinder Society, you've stolen more than all the burglars I've ever met combined. As for your ownership of this place, the Blood-Red Raiders have been using it for longer than you or your society." Meleren gives her a slightly peeved look at her mention of the Blood-Red Raiders.
"Claims to this place aside," says Meleren blandly, "We have all sprung the same trap. It is sad to hear that Harlo is no more, but he did show himself to be a coward at the last. The mechanical guardian was weakening and we perhaps could have beaten it with that dagger if he'd stayed. At the very least, he could have lured it away from the door before using that bag of his to allow us to get past."
The two exchange looks, shrug, then Merelen turns back to the pathfinders and asks, "So, what now?"
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Jaender moves forward patting the air gently in front of him and begins to speak. Everybody calm down here. My new friend Mors here makes a good point, if you were lured here by clues, you came of your own volition knowing the risks. Now I know you are smarter than the average adventurer, so you should be able to put together that the beginning traps were padded and protected, so as to prevent serious injury. Why would the society do something like that, then leave a deadly monstrosity like that back there to deal with? That amulet you recovered was obviously supposed to be the end of the test, and it seems logical that that mechanical monstrosity came from the oval room above us, which was beyond where any pathfinder would have gone as long as they followed the proper instructions.
He tips his shoulders, to move the weight of his pack to the other side, inadvertently tipping it enough so the zipper breaks free and several items spill to the floor. He huffs with a little exasperation, and begins to sweep them up, stuffing them back into the bag. However he continues his logic as he works.
If you put those pieces together, you will see that even if we aren't on the same side, we are certainly not on opposite sides. My money is on the theory that someone else has laid claim to this place and is waking up the terrors within.
Finishing up his cleaning, he looks back at the two adventurers with a smile on his face. Now can we all just start over? My name is Jaender. Your amulet there, bearing the crest of the Grand Lodge of pathfinders was our goal. You are quite welcome to keep it, as it seems we have a new task set before us. Please feel free to take refuge here, or if you prefer, you can head back out the way you came, it is quite clear now.
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"My friends, there is no reason to be so excited," Gunari says, putting away his weapons. "It is unfortunate that you triggered this rather lethal looking trap, especially where the mechanical man was concerned. We are sad for your companions that did not make it, but truly glad that you two have survived!".
Gunari pops out his wand of cure lights, and approaches the woman. "You look like you could use some healing, my lady, and I, as a priest of Lucky Drunk, am willing and able to provide assistance. Please, let me heal you wounds, and then perhaps I can conjure up something to heal your heart!"
If she lets Gunari, he will burn a charge from his wand.
"We've all had hardships coming to this point, but at least we've all been lucky enough to avoid the marked off sections... Those with the three dots. The pathfinders yah set up this little training exercise had marked the more dangerous areas, so I suspect they didn't know about the automaton that my friend here dispatched, nor the lightning traps. Perhaps, while it am treating your wounds, you could tell us a little about yourselves.
"To break the ice, I'll tell you a little about me. I grew up far to the North, in a land called Varisia. We Varisians are a lighthearted bunch, and my family traveled around a lot. If you haven't been to the beautiful land from whence I came, you should know that it abounds in dangerous lairs from a long lost age. But, my family and I learned to survive in the rough land, and even prosper. While visiting the City of Monuments, known as Magnimar, I happened to meet some Pathfinders, who told me of a life with grand adventure, and with luck, great wealth! This appealed to me, and my poor upbringing, so I agreed to join them. It was not too long ago that I completed my confirmation, and became a fully fledged agent of the Society. And now I am here. Talking to you!"
He suddenly realizes something. "Where are my manners! Would either of you like a tankard of Cayden's finest? And what about your stories?"
Shechera and Meleren both seemed to close up and withdraw at Jaender's logic. Neither willing to accept the truth of it.
Gunari's words and actions, on the other hand, seem to completely win them over.
"You, you healed me!" exclaims Shechera in complete surprise.
"And you used a charge from your wand to do so," says Meleren evenly. The pathfinders infer his complete surprise.
"You had nothing to gain," Shechera continues, "But you did it anyway. I'm sorry we mistrusted you. All of you. Meleren, you'd best fill them in. On it all."
Merelen nods in agreement. "Indeed. You may have assumed already that we are criminals. This much is true. We are all that remains of the Blood-Red Raiders, a group renowned for our prowess, cunning and ability to disappear after our raids. I'm afraid that killing was very much a part of what we did - when our marks did not hand over their valuables, we took them by force." He pauses in thought for a while, and you perhaps notice a flash of regret on his face, "I do not seek to excuse my actions, but I was a slave once. My earliest memory is of being sold on the slaver's block. The Raiders stole from my masters, killing them in the process and I willingly joined their ranks and enjoyed true freedom ever since."
Shechera tells her own tale of being an street orphan from Diobel, and how she came to join the Blood-Red Raiders when she was framed for murder and had to flee across Kortos. Thievery is not only all she knows, it is the reason she is alive today. She admits that Gunari's selfless actions in healing her has been the first true kindness she can recall encountering.
"The Raiders had come upon hard times, though," Meleren resumes the story, "And we were only six when we came to shelter here. We have used this place before, and this is the first time we ventured deeper. Harlo had become desperate, and when he noticed the recent activity in the caverns he wanted to find out what had been left. He was continually encouraged by the clues left behind and became ever certain that some big treasure would be waiting in the end. Well, you know how that worked out.
"As for me, I have felt inexorably drawn her since we arrived on the outskirts of Absalom. Normally, I would have warned Harlo not to chase his foolish dream, but I could not bring myself to. I cannot help but feel that my entire life has been designed to lead me here and now. I cannot say why. It is as though I am a mouse in a maze, and at the heart of this complex is the cheese. I told Shechera as much earlier. She still wants to leave, but if you want to delve deeper, I will come and lend what aid I may."
Schechera looks to Meleren, to Gunari, then surveys the pathfinders while flexing her newly healed arm. "I will come, also," she says at last, "You look like you'll need my help."
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"Well met. I am Finarin. It seems that we are destined to complete this ... quest, whatever it has become. I for one welcome any assistance that you might lend us."
Finarin relaxes his bow and places his arrow back in his quiver.
"What can you tell us about what may lay ahead?"
Finarin whispers to Mors, "Hope they don't recognize the armor ..."
Meleren nods at the big Garundi's words. He unhooks the amulet and passes it to him. "Thank you Amaranti. Thank you all. We very much appreciate your help." Meleren backs up slightly and indicates the door panel before pointing up the stairs.
"The door leading into this chamber was perfectly sealed, it would seem. When we opened it, there was a great rush of air that could only be explained, at this depth of the complex, by air rushing in to fill a vacuum. Best to brace yourselves before we open this one. It looks similarly sealed.
"Also," he adds, as though just remembering, "If we split up somehow and travel back through the complex separately, I have marked the traps I found with a chalk X. I placed them after the traps on the way in so that they would be before the traps on our way out. The first was a tripwire and the second was a pressure plate. Either way, just jump over the 5 feet behind the chalk X and you'll be fine."
Schechera screws up her face a little, "The first trap we encountered was a tray of explosives and dye that appeared out of thin air and struck Harlo on the head, then coated us all with this red dye. We should have just given up at that point, but I'm sure you all know how stubborn half-orcs can be..." she quickly glances up at Mors and bites her lip, "... erm, sorry, no offense."
"Getting back to your question," says Merelen, addressing Finarin, "I can't say what lies beyond, only that I must know."
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Better make sure my zipper is snug... Jaender adjusts his pack, making sure everything is intact once again. He hoists his appropriately sized, though decidedly lower quality, crossbow, ready to click off a shot if necessary. He then pulls his hood a little lower on his face, and braces himself against a wall.
Should anyone look at him as he prepares... What? I'm small, and yes, a stiff breeze has knocked me over before... I'm not proud of it...
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"I am glad you are feeling better, Shechera. Do either of you need any gear? There are decent weapons on the disabled automatons in the room before this. If either of you are spellcasters, I've got an extra stocked component pouch... and a full score of cold iron arrows, if they would help, and a short bow to go with them."
Gunari avoids mentioning the adamantine dagger at this time, though he suspects that either of the two bandits could use it better than he could.
Shechera laughs a little at Jaender's comment, and then looks a little confused as to why Gunari would willingly give up his stuff. However, while neither Shechera nor Meleren need the gear they certainly do appreciate the offer.
Mors finds the door to be untrapped, and absolute silence on the other side of the door. He tells everyone to brace themselves and without further ado opens it. As Meleren suspected, a very strong wind blows into the chamber, buffeting the motley crew of bandits and pathfinders.
The monotony of red steel ends in this octagonal chamber. Red metal looms in the background, but is accented by gleaming chrome panels and tables set against every wall. A round table stands upon a plinth in the center of the room. Bronze and brass levers and dials occupy all these surfaces, along with flat bits of glass, some lit, some dark. Beyond the central table, a wide red metal pillar with a door in its southern face stretches from floor to ceiling. More doors open off the south, east, and west walls.
All this fades into the background, though, as you find yourselves face-to-face with a garish sight. Standing around the central table are four hideous humanoid skeletons - from the protruding lower jaw and sharpened canines, you would guess they were once hobgoblins. They all turn at your approach, their eyes blazing with a strange green flame that flickers ominously in the wind. They open their mouths in unison as if to yell, "Intruders!" but all that comes out is a gout of hellish green fire. Each skeleton is equipped with an odd metal gauntlet covered with spikes. The occasional spark of electricity jumps between the spikes.
Mors and Gunari recognize these to be some variation of flaming skeleton. They quickly relay some important facts about these creatures (assuming they don't differ too much from the regular variety): their flames will damage anyone standing next to them (); whey they die they explode in a burst of flame (); Mors also notices that the flame is actually plasma and damage dealt by them will be half electrical and half fire damage; they will likely be especially vulnerable to cold damage; and finally (as with all skeletons) these "plasma" skeletons are resistant to damage that isn't bludgeoning due to their less than meaty nature ().
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As battle approaches once more, and what looks to be a tough one, Gunari seems to sober up! He pulls his alchemical silver light hammer, and readies to attack.
He sets up, next to Trapper Mors, hoping that his high(ish) armor class will help out. He will ready an attack with his hammer, against the first skelly that moves up. Hopefully Mors, with his Lucern hammer will be able to do the same, and maybe destroy them before they get "toe to toe"!
"Let's be safe, here, fellows! Miro, or anyone else, be ready to heal the front-liners! We're going to take some severe damage here, I would expect. Amaranti, could you send Kaisharga right in front of Trapper and me? Be prepared to send him away, should he fall, but let's use every resource that we have! Keep up the shield wall!"
"Also, make sure you leave the front-liners room to retreat out of here! Don't want anyone dying because they couldn't get away!"
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His heart jumps in his throat at the appearance of the oddly shaped skeletons.
I do so love a good fight, but why do I get so jumpy? Jaender mutters as he steps into view of the doorway to get a better look at his new foes. Realizing the ineffectiveness of the crossbow he holds in his hands, he drops it to the ground. I'll get that later...
With another mumble of words under his breath, he waggles his fingers and lets loose a glowing bolt that zips across the room, unhindered by the wind and unerringly smacks its intended target.
Chunks of plasma infused bone fly off the skeleton (let's call him Brandon) fizzing out on the floor. It still stands and favors Jaender with a toothy smile. Brandon will undoubtedly be heading for the plucky Wayang at his first opportunity.
Brandon the plasma skeleton is completely taken aback by the half-orc's approach. Mors' hammer strikes true and shatters Brandon's skull. Exploding plasma fills the area around Brandon's former position, burning the tips of Mors' fingers (but doing him no real damage).
Just to the left of Mors, Keith the plasma skeleton sets his hellish sights on the half-orc.
Keith looks very confused at all this talk of tactics. His hot toothy grin remains unabated, however.
To make things easy, let’s call the top left skeleton Nigel and the top right one Bruce.
Amaranti and Kaishgara move up in front of and to the left of Mors respectively, forming a shield of reach weapons (unfortunately blocking an ever more irate Gunari). Amaranti readies an action to attack the first skeleton to come within reach.
Kaishgara attacks Keith, missing.
The skeletons take their turn and Keith swoops down first to avenge Brandon, his fallen comrade. Before he gets too far, though, Kaishgara takes the opportunity to bite down upon him. Kaishgara’s teeth struggle to get at Keith’s bones, but manages to dislodge a rib or two. Amaranti has much better luck with his lance, shattering Keith’s spine. A shower of plasma just falls short of the comrades.
Nigel rushes in next, only to encounter Mors’ hammer to his skull. Nigel follows suit and explodes, just shy of Kaishgara’s flickering tongue and the pathfinder’s singed eyebrows.
Bruce has more luck, however. He rushes in and hammers Amaranti on the chest with his technological gauntlet, showering the Garundi in electrical sparks and his own personal scent: hot plasma.
Shechera advances to where Nigel exploded and throws her dagger at Bruce the plasma skeleton, managing to lodge it in Bruce’s eye socket.
Meleren moves up next to Shechera and draws his impressive, shiny morningstar. His face, as always, is unreadable.
Amaranti strikes Bruce in his empty nose socket. Bruce's skull explodes, followed shortly by the rest of him, showering the area in front of the pathfinders with hot plasma. Kaisharga swats at the flaming, sparking flecks of skeleton. Shechera stands in open-mouthed amazement at the effectiveness and teamwork shown by the pathfinders - especially Miro moving into danger in order to heal his comrade.
The pathfinders survey the room. No traps can be found. Everyone can see the glowing controls and strange glass table:
The table is a truncated cone, 4 feet high, topped with a flat, dark glass plate. Its controls include a long, wide brass panel set with dozens of small wheels with letters upon their rims—these “read-outs” for the controls currently spell nothing but gibberish. In addition, a glowing crystal next to a lever blinks with amber light.
Merelen seems fascinated. He walks over to the table somewhat reverently. "I think that lever will activate the table in some way," he says, almost pulling it himself, before retreating to allow the pathfinders access.
Additionally, the strange gauntlets worn by the skeletons all seem to have survived their owners' fiery destruction.
As the party begins to explore the room a cacophonous sound, as of enormous and poorly oiled gears rotating, fills the room before grinding to a halt seconds later. Other than the brief sound itself, the room appears unaffected.
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Jaender's tiny legs are a flurry of movement as he begins to duck back away from the front line. He turns back, ready to cast another devious spell on the undead plasma creatures, but by the time he turns back, the last of them explodes in a hot, plasma mess.
I do so love the efficiency of the society. He says, mostly to himself, brushing off his hands and picking his things back up.
Jaender takes some time inspecting the gauntlets, I wonder if one of us could wear one of these? He then mumbles something under his breath and waves his hands, holding still for several, odd seconds.
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Seeing his arrow again fly true to once again have no effect, he slams his bow down in frustration.
Friends, I cannot tell you how embarrassed I am. Two deadly fights, and twice my weapons have proven to be ... ineffectual. Both times, though, you have show your prowess to be more than worthy of being in this ... society. I vow that should we again encounter danger, I will not let you down. It is not in my nature ..."
Finarin's speech is interrupted by the sounds of gears turning.
"Methinks my chance will occur sooner rather than later."
Jaender sweeps the room for magical objects. As with before, he identifies the objects of the pathfinders. Jaender cannot seem to find any auras around this strange, glowing table. He also hones in on what must be an object possessed by Meleren. When he sees you concentrating in his direction, he directly addresses Jaender, "What, exactly, are you doing there, my new friend?"
Assuming Jaender is honest with him, he will produce his magical morningstar. He did look uncomfortable under scrutiny, though. Meleren returns to intently watching whoever is investigating the table.
At the sound of the gears, Shechera starts, "That's the same sound we heard just before the mechanical beast outside attacked us!"
"No, it's not," replies Meleren coolly, "It was much shorter this time, and now we seem to be hearing it from within. Last time we heard it from without." Unperturbed, Meleren continues to observe the activity at the table.
Meleren starts a little, clearly not expecting Miro to grill him. "I just don't like being observed so closely, is all. It makes me feel uncomfortable - reminds me of the days on the auctioneer's block."
Meleren's hands seem to fidget every time he looks at the table. It's as though he's very consciously stopping himself from going over there and playing with the buttons.
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Jaender finishes his sweep of the room and, not finding anything of note aside from the already claimed Morningstar, brushes his hands and hosts his pack.
"Apologies Meleren, I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. Just making sure we didn't leave any stone unturned, if you know what I mean." he says with a disarming smile.
"Now speaking of leaving no stone unturned, how is it that everyone has resisted pulling that lever?" Jaender scurries over with the same enthusiasm as when he opened the door, firmly grabs the lever and pulls. "Everyone be ready!" he says with perhaps too much excitement in his voice...
-Posted with Wayfinder
The entire table seems to spring to life. Glowing lights brighten and seem to pour their light into the space above. The light coalesces and then seems to shift upwards until you could swear that it was originating from the empty space above the table. Seconds later, it takes form and most of you recognize it to be a three dimensional map of the place you are currently in!
It takes a few moments, but you eventually come to realize that the rooms down the bottom don't seem to match. The chamber and door that should lead out of this complex have been shifted to the left - rather, rotated clockwise.
Jaender cannot help but touch the hologram that has appeared (or perhaps he does so by accident after pulling the lever), the dials on the table that had previously displayed only gibberish spin madly, and one letter at a time form the words:
WARNING
DEPLOYMENT CAROUSEL HALTED BETWEEN POSITIONS
CAROUSEL MUST BE REALIGNED TO ACCESS EXITS FROM SECURITY SUBLEVEL
MANUAL REALIGNMENT SYSTEMS: OFFLINE
HOLOGRAPHIC CONTROLS: FUNCTIONAL
HOLOGRAPHIC INTERFACE APPARATUS NOT DETECTED IN VICINITY
HOLOGRAPHIC INTERFACE APPARATUS LAST LOGGED IN MONITOR ROOM TO ACCESS ATMOSPHERIC CONTROLS FOR ATMOSPHERIC NULLIFICATION
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Ack! We are stuck it seems... and by this warning we are stuck until we can get the holographic interface apparatus. By these words here, it appears we need to go to the monitor room. It looks like if we go through this... Jaender takes his staff he has half-heartedly carried throughout the complex and uses it to point to the vertical shaft displayed in the holographic image, shaft here, I am guessing it will take us to where we want to go.
It appears this door here, this time pointing to the actual door in the back of the room, corresponds with this shaft here. He says, finally pointing back at the shaft he highlighted earlier.
He puts the end of his staff back on the ground, looking like a grey skinned hobo child, albeit with a large smile spreading across his face, his hood barely clinging to his forehead, seemingly about to slide off of his head altogether.
Shall we? He says motioning with his hand to the door and a slight bow, in deference to his more skilled trap finding companions.
When the door to the shaft is eventually opened, there is a light breeze as the air from the room fills the vacuum in the tiny chamber within. Unexpectedly, the chamber has a roof.
The interior wall of the small circular room has a keypad, numbered 0 through 9, next to a panel with an imprint of a five-fingered hand with fingers splayed.
Otherwise, the chamber is perfectly smooth, coated in red metal and utterly empty.
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Gunari stands back, and watches those with arcane training do their thing. 'And some thought I was impulsive!'
Instead of helping Miro and Jaender, where he is sure he has no skills to help, he first takes one of the gloves that the skeletons were wearing. He'll put one on, just to try it for fit.
Then, forgetting he has the glove on, he turns to the two bandits. "Sorry about the little one's rudeness. I have learned that often times those with arcane training forget to train in the interpersonal skills. We, who get their inspiration from more divine sources are often a little more, sensitive.
"So, I apologize for my friends, and there less than diplomatic inquiries. But, truthfully, you've left much unsaid, and I would be interested in learning what brought you to here, both this place and time. Did you enjoy being a bandit? Perhaps I could suggest another course, eventually, if you would be interested. I say this, because many would call my family thieves and bandits. While we were not thugs, we were opportunists. On occasion, we may have sold some goods that 'fell off a cart'. But, isn't that just good business? Taking advantage where you can, bringing goods and buyers together?"
Gunari serves a round, if it is accepted, and waits for Meleren's respose.
If needed:
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Amaranti stares at the table, and maps above it. He stares hard, turning his head left and right. Upon hearing Jaendar's explanation, the Garundi nods approvingly, and looks impressed.
Keeping his face still, Amaranti sends a voiceless whisper to his eidolon: "Amaranti confused. You understand what this about?"