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"I don't care if she's pleased or not. I quit. Done being her errand boy. Maybe Lady Zadrian won't have me delivering messages to Aspis agents." he chuckles dejectedly, grabbing the bottle and pouring himself a drink directly. "Met my contact. Turns out he was that halfling that was on the boat, directing the search. Credence. Tamrin Credence. I pass on the message, get back here. Something wasn't right. I ask around and that one" he barks angrily pointing at the barkeep who was trying to listen in but now is trying to step away "tells me that rat is a f@$#ing Snake. I can't go through the b!@&&$+! we went through when we were fighting the battle for the soul of Absalom. Not again. Not anymore. Staying up at night because of what I had stored away, or because my superior was Dissapeared and I didn't know if other f@$*ing Chels were going to come down on me and snatch me from the Grand Lodge campus. So I. Am. Done. But I am a Pathfinder. Your provisions for your expedition are ready, I got you some digging supplies and a half-dozen donkeys. Food for about two weeks, if you decide not to forage" he finishes, draining his cup and pouring himself another, which he drains and begins to fill his glass anew.
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"It was a sealed letter. He burned it when he was done." He downs the shot and begins to refill another. "I'd like to send for new orders actually. See if I'm to continue setting up for expeditions out of Corenthyn as I was supposed to. Maybe get a replacement so that I'm not here. Discretely so that I don't have to explain this b*#!&+@@ to old muttonchops."
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As Aiden tries to get a feel for the man's intent, it becomes clear that he is not only telling the truth, but he is scared. Terrified even. Being drunk might actually provide him with the liquid courage he needs to stay frosty for the time being. Also, getting him out of Cheliax might also be good, if he is that afraid of what might happen to him here.
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Aiden mulls Cassian's situation over. "Why don't you come with us. Get out of this city and then out of Cheliax. She won't be happy, but you're not going to do the job well even if you stay. Sometimes a poorly placed asset is worse than none at all. I'll take the heat for you leaving."
"Besides, you got us our supplies. You can watch over them from now on."
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Downing his last shot, he tosses a handful of gold coins over the counter and grabs the bottle. "Fine" he concedes, pitching forward slightly. "I'll be in the back of the ... wheel ... carrier thing" he adds, stumbling towards the front door and the nearby stables.
"I'll keep your belongings here milord!" adds the innkeeper with a smile that doesn't quite hide his concern and curiosity.
Around a bend in the raod, you come in sight of what little remains of the town of Anglemire. Nature is reclaiming the few sturdy stone buildings still visible from the coastline. At the north end of the township, where the Eismont foothills meet with the rocky steps of the Menador Mountains, is a short square tower
surrounded by the crumbling walls of Emberhold. Thick curtains of lush, green ivy reach upward from an ocean of waving grass and cling to the cracked stone walls—all that remain of the keep.
"Looks like even with Thrune sparing them, the townsfolk figured they were better off elsewhere" comments Cassian somberly, shaking his head as he points towards the tower-like structure. "Looks like a keep tower. Maybe head over that way?"
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Looking past the remains of a broken door frame, Esh notices that fire long ago removed the roof and floors of Emberhold’s great hall. Five thick columns still stand amidst an extremely dense and flourishing gourd patch at the bottom of the large pit that remains. The main doorway on the south side is flanked by two stone staircases that wrap around the interior of the west and east walls, much of which have crumbled to the ground. To the northwest is a square tower that’s only partially standing. Weeds have overgrown a doorway on the east wall, which breaks on the northeast corner for a wide set of stairs descending from the ground level. A rusty iron gate still stands at the center of the pit’s northern wall, rising from the densest portion of the gourd patch and fencing off a descending set of stairs.
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As Aiden cautiously makes his way down the stairs to the main floor, he can hear a low choking wail coming from the staircase on the other side of the room.
To get to the other side, the Pathfinders will have to go through the thick gourd garden. The passage through promises to be a rough one; as the patch is lush with leaves, roots and gourds.
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Nectanebo follows briskly down the stairs and past Waki, slowing abruptly as he reaches the bottom, as though he's spotted something in the mass of flora.
"Why hello, there," He says to a barely-visible skeletal corpse concealed among the tangle. The tattered ends of his long coat continue to billow and swirl from his descent of the stairs, but now seem to oddly resemble beckoning fingers. "Won't you show us around?"
With that, the corpse springs up out of the garden, and addresses Nectanebo with a several-decades-out-of-date Chelaxian salute!
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As the skeleton assembles itself from bones that seem to have been scattered throughout the room and Aiden leads the way through the patch without stepping on any of the more sensitive parts of the vegetation, two of the gourds rise up to feet of roots, leaves and stems. Both cock their heads to one side, then another, before one boldly walks up to the skeleton and deftly pokes it.
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"A-HA! Gourd leshies! Some of them prize-winning specimens, too!"
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One plant looking larger than the others approaches you as other gourds walk up to the lot of you, swarming you as they begin to poke at you. It answers back in Sylvan to Nectambo, a language that in his mouth sounds a lot like the squeak of a finger against a freshly waxed gourd.
"Beannachdan a-muigh! Tha mi nam Foghar Loidhne! Dè a bheir thu tron ghàrradh againn mura h-eil thu a 'ciallachadh cron sam bith? Bidh luchd-ithe na feòla a 'sealg mòran rudan, agus is dòcha gum bi iad ag ithe thu ma dh'fhuiricheas tu faisg."
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NEC-TA-NE-BO turns back to the rest of the party.
He then turns back to the leshies.
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The leshys turn to each other and shrug. Harvest stripe replies "Luchd-ithe feòil. Bidh iad a 'coimhead coltach ribh, ach chan eil na duilleagan geal geal aca. Tha cluasan biorach coltach ribh mar sin."
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Nectanebo feels at his hair for a moment.
He rattles off a Goblin rhyming chant.
He begins speaking a few phrases in Necril, the Tongue of the Dead.
He tosses a glance back the others' way (and briefly raising a wry eyebrow at what Aiden has to say) before continuing.
He points back at Aiden.
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The leshys begin to grab at things that are buried beneath the rich soil as Harvest Stripe continues:"Bha cnuic aca a bha liath, mar ash. Agus bidh iad a 'dèanamh fuaim mar an fhuaim a rinn thu. Chan eil fios againn càil mu dheidhinn pinsin gun fhrith-rathaid. Chan eil càil aig an àite seo an-seo ach na h-itheadairean feòil gun bhileagan nuair a thàinig sinn. Ach chan eil iad a 'dol a-mach a shealg barrachd feòil. Chan ann bho tha an tè mòr aca."
Soon, the leshys heap before you objects such as a dark-haired doll wearing a tiara, a silver locket with the portrait of a young man with dark hair and a care-free easygoing smile, a pearl, an emerald gold ring, a ruby songbird, a pennon bearing a mounted knight on a field of white roses and an arcane spellbook entitled "On the Application of Magic in War"
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Nectanebo excitedly looks over the treasure...!
"Pearl of Power, anyone?" He holds up the lustrous, comparatively large white pearl.
"Huh! A Ring of Arcane Signets." He puts it on without further ado, interested to see what form it may take for him of its own accord.
"Has anyone got a longarm? Staff, spear, halberd, anything like that? Put this pennon on, and it can drive you to heroic feats when you most need it."
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"Am fear mòr! Leis a 'mhor mhòr. Uaine. Tha e a 'cluinntinn mòran. Tha mi a 'smaoineachadh gu bheil e ann am pian" replies Harvest Stripe.
The leshys, having brought forth all the treasure, stand back as Harvest stripe continues: "An urrainn dhut seo a thoirt gu buil? Bidh e a 'toirt rùm anns a' ghàrradh againn, chan eil dad a 'fàs bhuaipe agus chan eil iad math ri ithe. Bidh iad a 'coimhead coltach ri rudan a ghiùlain thu fhèin."
A group of leshys, focusing on what Aiden is saying, seem to get the jist of it and nod rapidly as a group back to the Chel.
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Nectanebo briefly grimaces at their description of 'the big one', wondering precisely what horror is down there waiting for them. His grimace shifts naturally enough to a gracious smile, however, as he addresses them again.
He turns back to the others and gestures to the assembled treasure.
"All ours, gents. Their trash, our treasure."