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That evening, Swayaah offers ale on the house. She's in a good mood, she drinks most of the patrons under the table, and she has the finest pick that night before kicking him out of her inn room and falling back asleep.
"Swayaah!" A voice rings in her head. She shoots up only to see a bottomless, windy void below her. "Do not be alarmed, you are still in a dream-like state. As stated, you helped my foolish minion meet his demise, and I am not one to turn my back on a deal!." Swayaah yawns as the voice in the void rambles on. "Now then, what do you wish for? Prosperity? Recovery? Rescue? or the always classic Wealth"
As soon as it finishes asking, Swayaah rubs her eyes and throws up a clawed hand. "Yea, thanks, but um... I refuse. No offense. Mom taught me there are always strings attached to these deals. I've already had one outerplanar creature spy on me from beyond the veil, I don't need two." She grumbles.
"WHAT! You dare refuse the gifts of Abraxas? I will search for your soul when you die and will make you regret those words. This. Isn't. OVER!" The wind blows harder until the winds tear Swayaah's bedsheets apart. She tries to hold on with her claws, but it pulls her right off the bed, hurtling through the air until-
Ilvan licks her face and hoots as she lifts her head from the wooden floor. "I fell, didn't I?" Ilvan hoots again. "Sometimes I wish I could just eat raw steak like you do." She scans the floor to find some clothing. "But last night isn't going to pay for itself...let's go, boy."
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Ketill is toying with his drink while Swayaah is enjoying herself. When he finally sees her leave with a human he finally gulps it down and then also retires. In the middle of the night a voice rings in his head "Ketill!" he wakes to see a bottomless, windy void below himself. "Do not be alarmed, you are still in a dream-like state. You helped my foolish minion meet his demise, and I am not one to turn my back on a deal!." Ketill desperately tries to flap his wings to stay flying above the void "Fool! I said this is a dream, now then, what do you wish for? Prosperity? Recovery? Rescue? or the always classic Wealth?"
Ketill quickly thinks and then answers "I will take Recovery" The voice booms "Very well!" and then departs with vicious laughter. The remainder of Ketill's sleep is haunted with nightmares and he wakes up amidst sheets soaked with sweat...
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Kellan drinks in merriment with her friends, happy to have come through this most recent delve relatively unscathed. After heading to bed, she hears a voice seemingly awake her from slumber. "Kellan! Do not be alarmed, you are still in a dream-like state. You helped my foolish minion meet his demise, and I am not one to turn my back on a deal! What do you wish for? Prosperity? Recovery? Rescue? Or perhaps simple Wealth?"
Kellan thinks for a moment. [b]"I've spent my life hunting down demons, and I don't plan to change that now. I refuse. There is nothing that you could give me that I would want, abomination!"
Before the demon lord can even answer, Kellan wills herself away from his presence and awakens in a cold sweat.
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Swayaah continues her work as a private investigator. Sneak around at night, talk to witnesses, find telltale signs of passion, and then bring the evidence to her clients. Pay is good. Well, not compared to her tower explorations, but it's entertaining.
She hears rumors of yet another new settlement popping up and heads there to seek out new jobs. It seems like some drunk lord or flighty duchess grabs some land, drives out the bandits, invites some peasants and thinks they are royalty. Laws are few but profits are high, so it's a ripe time for alternate criminal investigators.
Once Swayaah gets to the settlement, no one seems to mind the tiefling with a pet owlbear just lumbering around town. Everyone is too friendly. It's when they start calling her by name- even though she never it- that's when Swayaah went straight to the duchess's manor.
"Mom." Swayaah climbed through the window into the manor's study. A middle aged human turned and greeted her. "You know, one of my teammates hates demons. Especially incubi."
"Good thing I'm not an incubus, then." The woman sat down and began rifling through some documents. "I know how much you like your peace and quiet. Also, you have all of this empty land- someone has to manage it." She grins. "Your manor is across the street, by the way."
Swayaah exhales, realizing her mother wasn't leaving anytime soon. The woman continues. "You need help, whether you want it or not. That Society can't save you forever. They couldn't save your-" She hesistates, breaking character for a moment before correcting herself. "Keep an eye out for plants, by the way. I don't want to hear you died again from another sentient shrub."
The manor is mostly empty, but it is quiet. And Ilvan has a cavern to sleep in, too. "She thought of everything, eh?" Swayaah drops her bags and makes sure to claw something- to leave her mark. It's her manor now, she may as well personalize.
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Zen’yr hears the voice of Abbraxas in her head, but doesn’t even flinch for a moment.
Zen’yr! Do not be alarmed, you are still in a dream-like state. You helped my foolish minion meet his demise, and I am not one to turn my back on a deal! What do you wish for? Prosperity? Recovery? Rescue? Or perhaps simple Wealth?
Zen’yr though of her options for a few, weighing the options.
Recovery may come in handy, but what will that open myself up to? The last thing I need is to be in debt to some archfiend of evil.
As they are all intreredting offers, I decline your help. Last thing I need is to be in your debt of any kind
WHAT! You dare refuse the gifts of Abraxas? I will search for your soul when you die and will make you regret those words. This. Isn't. OVER!
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Ketill chooses to receive the gift of the demon lord, and his nightmares of whispering voices are replaced by something else... a dream of falling deeper and deeper along a endless pillar of green, until he comes at a base. A creature dwells there, tending to a small nucleus of crystal as if it was a precious child. Time rushes forward and the crystals grows, until it covers all of the surface of Golarion...
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As the group descends further down, a faint buzzing gradually becomes louder, until the staircase ends, and the sound has swollen to a solid crackling.
The corridor past the stairs is ringed in glowing, shattered red glass set into the walls. Beyond lies a wide, rectangular chamber studded with ten-foot-high black cylinders rising out of the floor. Each is joined to a smaller pole by a plate of transparent crystal inset with silver wires. The floor is inlaid with a bewildering array of geometric shapes and gold wires in straight lines and precise angles.
Two centaur-like, mechanical creature are here, looking somewhat on edge. As soon as they spot the party, they shout HALT! Who goes there?
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After having shared his extracts and drank his own Ketill follows the others into the familiar darkness
"Hello, we are pathfinder investigators. Care to share what you are guarding?"
Barkskin (for +4 nat armor) *4
Heroism *4
Greater False Life (+2d10+11 temp hitpoints) *3
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If the party had time to prepare, Swayaah casts Life Bubble and taps everyone (including Ilvan) with it, giving everyone but herself 3 hours of protection. She takes 2 hours of protection.
With that done Swayaah drinks the extracts of Barkskin and Heroism that Ketill offers.
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"Ilya! Do not be alarmed, you are still in a dream-like state. You helped my foolish minion meet..."
Ilya sits up, her eyes wide open. "How late is it?!"
"Wait, why did you wake up? Uhm, you still have to tell me what you wish for! Prospe..."
"Nothing! Now go away, I have to hurry!" she replies as she kicks the bed sheets off to the side and jumps out of bed.
"I won't ask you again! This is your only chance to have a wish granted!"
Ilya pulls her robe over her head and quickly ties her sash. "Good! Leave!"
"But I...!"
"Leave!" she yells as she picks up her backpack, slips on her slippers and opens the window of her recently purchased mansion. She leaps out into the air and lands gracefully in front of her porch.
As she runs toward the Emerald Spire at the same speed as a sprinting horse, cursing the fact she overslept, Ilya puts on her other gear. The presence within her head fades while cursing Ilya's existence, but Ilya mentally blocks out whatever it's saying.
Ilya enters the dungeon, runs up to the Spire itself while fishing her transport token out of one of her pockets, and teleports to the level she and her friends explored last time. There she exchanges her transport token for her wand of mage armor as she runs toward the set of stairs that lead down to where her friends should be gathered.
Seconds later, the others can notice Ilya running up behind them. She quickly puts away her wand and stops behind them, staring at the centaur-like constructs.
"You okay?" Ilya asks her allies. "They look angry. Something happened? Sorry I'm late! I overslept."
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One of the two centaur-like constructs looks to address his superior I suggest caution, this could be a ruse.
The other addresses the Pathfinders directly: Access to this area is denied pending the elimination of the Protean threat. Our duty is to enforce order in these halls, protect the sealed gate and remove the protean presence. We are authorized to use the following forms of force: nonlethal, subtle, weak, mild, strong, lethal, overwhelming, electromagnetic, and brute. We will not be held liable for devaluations of possessions or cessation of biological functions.
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"Can you inform us of the nature of the 'Protean threat'?"
Proteans are orderless being, who exist for the sole purpose of entropy. Their presence here is a threat, since they seek to open the sealed door. The sealed door must remain closed at all costs. Therefore, the protean presence is a threat.
Your access to this level is currently restricted. The proteans reside on this level. Therefore, it is not feasible for you to provide aid against the protean threat. Access restrictions to this level can be restricted, provided you agree to the following terms and conditions. Please listen to all terms and conditions, and respond with either 'agree' or 'decline'
Terms and conditions: All access services shall be applied as-is, and recipients remain fully liable for loss of health, mobility, mental acuity, physical attractiveness, or liver function. The following activities are forbidden: lying, stealing, lechery, murder, defecation outside of designated area, usury, loitering, explicit language and loud music. Violence is permitted in self-defence, using the following forms of force: nonlethal, subtle, weak, mild, strong, lethal, overwhelming, electromagnetic, and brute.
At no point shall an attempt be made to open any doors that have been sealed for the purpose of remaining shut. The agreeees (sic) receive the right to have one (1) member of the inevitable race (tm) provide company for purposes of legitimization and disambiguation, in any and all areas under uncontested control the inevitable (tm) presence on this level.
Please agree or decline these terms.
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"Umm...man that's a lot of info. So you don't like the proteans, they're trying to open some kind of door. But we enter and help you provided one of you supervises us."
"Man, this is like that bard I met. Called himself Apple. He wouldn't shut up but he did seem pretty cool."
"So uh... do we agree to this?"
Terms accepted. You may proceed. I shall accompany you for as far as you travel within controlled areas, so as to prevent misinterpretations.
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One of the inevitables joins the party and nods the passage if safe.
Golden wires lead in a shimmering ribbon from the eastern door to the northern one.
This corridor is a power conduit the inevitable explains, you will learn more after the next door
The air reverberates with a low hum. After the next door, the wires in the floor of split at the southern doors and lead to four cylindrical, white ceramic podiums in the corners of the room. From each podium rises a large, segmented ceramic arm that ends in a multi-fingered claw and an array of lenses.
This room, the inevitable says, [b]acts as a recovery room. We bring our wounded here to heal.
Swayaah immediately senses that the robotic arms, while generally helpful to inevitables, are also programmed to be hostile against biological creatures.
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Swayaah nods as the inevitable yaks on. The smell of oil and sights of lightning sparks are kind of interesting.
"Hey big guy. Those claws. They're good for you, but bad for us. Can you turn them off? If not I'll turn 'em off."
If the inevitable leaves it up to her, Swayaah rolls her eyes and starts working on disabling the arms.