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Boris holds up his hand. "Please to wait Rin, Markus. Let me try and see what is." Drawing arcane symbols in mid-air, he mutters in Skald:
"Fargene viser , mening blør ut."
The Ulfen giant shrugs unhelpfully. "No understanding. You put on now."
"Is Aroden carvings? Please, to tell more! Boris making notes in journal. Maybe could help to explain ... what is word ... Aroden gone ... Aroden be disappeared! Yes, disappeared! Or maybe dead."
He walks over to the side to get a better look at the carvings, take a empty journal with an ink pen and starts jotting down notes, ugly but practical diagrams, including width, height and as many details as he can get his companions to give him. He seems genuinely excited!
"Please, Brob and Markus to telling me what know of scenes, what can see, ... Tell everything! And tell quick! Maybe is somethign here to helped Jani out there."
He becomes somber for a moment, before turning pensive. "Rin, where you is learn talk the scream-speak? Is not common. No bad from it, Boris is just curious. Can to understand?" he asks as he alternates looking at her and another carving remnant, jotting down "vital" statistics.
The Pathfinders spend quite a while documenting what they can of both the 4 carvings they understood and the 8 that had been ravaged by time. When Boris, too, cannot identify the cloak, Rin drapes it over her shoulders. She feels a warm protective emanation, but that could just have been Boris's warm hands handling it.
Brobdingnagian cannot ascertain when the torches were lit, but as he inspects them a little closer he realizes that the light coming from them is not natural and they are emitting no heat. They are, each of them, everburning torches.
The Pathfinders eventually tear themselves away from the significant find to travel further into the tunnels. As Brob suggests, these carvings do not - in and of themselves - solve the mystery of why the gillmen come here.
The soft light of the surrounding fungus mixes with the flickering glow of the nearby torches to reveal a grand chamber. A large pool of water along the chamber’s southern edge reflects the blue and green radiance to illuminate the massive stalactites that cling to the ceiling overhead. Two other tunnels branch off from this area, leading to the east and west.
Rising up from the pool is a column of rock with steeply sloped sides and a flat top, as if someone had sawn off the top of a massive stalagmite. A miniature city carved from this same stone occupies nearly the entire surface. Tiny trinkets such as ancient coins, polished semiprecious stones, and ornately braided loops of string are scattered throughout the diorama, and pale cave frogs clamber atop it. The smooth cavern floor is covered in gravel and pebbles along the edge of the pool, and several foot-long centipedes prowl among the gravel in their search for prey (smaller prey than the companions).
In this cavern, the ceiling stretches 20 ft overhead and is crowded by dozens of stalactites, some measuring 10 feet long from base to tip. Despite the impressive geology, the cave’s focus is the sloping, 15-foot-deep pool and its tiny city.
"Absalom!" the Pathfinders cry, almost in unison.
A few seconds later, the water ripples and a lone gillman rises from the shallow pool, facing away from the Pathfinders. He backs up a little and then kneels down reverently in the shallows. The gillman stretches his arms out at his sides and water drips of his aged, wrinkled skin. He seems not to have noticed the six latest additions to the cave.
"Hi there!" one of the Pathfinders calls out. There is no response.
still no response.
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After the gillman emerges from the water, Brobdingnagian looks around at the rest of the group puzzled for a moment, then goes a bit further into the cave to examine the miniature city a closer. Not immediately hostile is a good sign...
He adopts a conversational tone as he gets closer to the gillman (assuming he doesn't immediately attack) with open hands as he says, "Heya, I'm Brobdingnagian and these are my friends. The Pathfinder Society set us here from Absalom to find out what you gillmen are doing here in this cave." He nods at the miniature city, "Though it looks like you've got your own Absalom here... is that why you come here?"
Brob looks back to the group, hoping to gain some support from them.
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Markus' attention is caught by the impressive carving of Absalom, a tiny replica of the grand city carved from the rock of the cave. The sudden appearance of what he assumes is a gillman causes Markus to step back in surprise.
When the gillman doesn't attack Brob, Markus hazards a suggestion.
"Do gillmen speak Taldane? Maybe he's not being rude, maybe he just doesn't understand us. Perhaps we could try Aquan or something, if anyone knows it?"
As the stone skips past on the water, the gillman turns around to favor Jillia with a glare from his piercing purple eyes. He makes no threatening moves, but does put his arms down at his sides. His stomach lacks the elasticity of youth, and an old-age bulge is definitely present. Even the gills on his neck seem to be floppy with the ravages of time.
He does not reply to Jillia, but looks at each Pathfinder in turn. His gaze lingers on Rin, and she realizes he is eying off the cloak. Markus and Boris notice that the gillman is wearing robes of a similar color and fashion to the cloak. Even after staring at everyone, the gillman makes no indication that he will move or speak. He just waits patiently and expectantly.
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Markus speaks loudly and slowly at the gillman, hoping to convey a friendly tone while making himself understood.
"I am Markus," he says, pointing at his own chest. "We are explorers. We mean you no harm. We wish to ask you some questions," he adds, gesturing around at his companions. "May we know your name?"
"He's looking fairly intently at that cloak we found," Markus says, more quietly this time, looking over at Rin. "Maybe we should try offering it to him."
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Boris contemplates the man-thing sitting by the water, shrugs and continues drawing a basic representation of the city carved in the middle of the pool.
He grunts as he focuses on his journal: "Rasva vanhempi tarvitsee mieleen miten hän katsoo ihmisiä"
Switching to his least favorite language, he continues:
"S'kraalgr'hm me'ettar Rin a'lk'tru' tle yi'bow. Lgag'rtr syurgath ly'aez vletmrr, wo'orzg yha'vyi, krwu tekrlmn krewa. Ksattrh' haddry'ytt?"
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Ruin looks at the aged gillman, and tries to understand his intent.
Rin grabs at the edges of the cloak, wanting to hang on to its warmth.
She draws a scroll from her leather scroll case and begins to read.
"Ksflgh'kat"
Rin casts comprehend languages on herself.
"Did This belong to another of your kind? "
The gillman looks at the companions and seems to comprehend what they are saying. At last he speaks. It is a strange, nasal sound and lacks annunciation - perhaps as though he cannot quite hear the words that are coming out of his own mouth, "My name is Uori. I am a pilgrim here to this holy site of my people. It also happens to be a holy site of Aroden - the God of Humanity and First Citizen of Absalom."
Uori pauses for a while and looks to each of the Pathfinders' mouths to see if they have anything else to say. With nothing immediately forthcoming, he continues, "These two sites coincide, but I am here solely for these pure spring waters that exist far inland. The pilgrimage is a perilous one, for in addition to the hazards of the wild, should one of our people become lost and not make the cave by nightfall, we will likely dehydrate and die. Oddly, this is similar to the fate of the carvings you no doubt saw in the other cavern. These things so holy to Aroden too will fade and die before too long.
"In answer to your question, yes that cloak does belong to another of my kind. It matches the ceremonial dress we often wear on these journeys to the cave. Unless you saw a corpse down there, it is likely the last surviving remnant of one of my long dead ancestors. I saw it in the pit as I crossed, but did not have the strength or equipment to fish it out.
"I am not sure what answers I can give to you beyond what I have already said," Uori notes, "But if you have questions, feel free to ask them."
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Oh good, he can understand us. I hope we can find a way to help each other.
"Greetings Uori! This site is a great find for us. The circumstances of Aroden's death are still mysterious, so any information on him could be useful. Would it be ok with you if we sent back a few fellow pathfinders to study these carvings at another time?" Varus hopes studying this cave will not trouble the Gillmen. "Perhaps in return, we could try and set up a safer route for your people to reach the spring water, one with plenty of water pools so you won't risk yourselves so badly."
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Boris relaxes visibly once the gillman begins to speak and Rin offers the old cloak to Uori. He jots down some of the things the sea-bound pilgrim has said about both the location and it's value in the eyes of the gillmen, as he looks overhead at the roof of the cavern to check if there is anything he has missed.
"Yes, Markus," replies Uori, "I made this pilgrimage alone. Most of our kind do. It is a test of personal mettle. This place, as you now know, is a place for the children of Aroden as much as it is a place for we gillmen. You may return here to inspect the carvings as you will, provided you leave these waters unspoiled. I thank you for your offer, too... but no, follower of Milani, I do not think that the inclusion of water pools would be a good idea. Much of the reason the spring water here is so refreshing is because of the difficulty in reaching it. Making the journey an easy one would defeat the purpose and somehow lessen the holiness of the experience.
As for what else is around here," Uori answers Jillia, "I know not. An unholy stench emanates from the cavern to the east, and I have avoided going down that path for fear of what I might find. I am no seasoned adventurer and these bones have become old and fragile."
Uori brightens as Rin passes him the cloak. A small tear appears at the side of his face. He steps back from the waters of the pool and folds the cloak reverently, placing it in his knapsack. He produces a wand of some kind. "Thank you so much for your kindness in returning this cloak. Perhaps I can repay you in some small way. First, please accept this - it is a wand that will shield you with the strength of your faith," he passes it to Varus and explains the activation sequence.
"Secondly, there is a small amount of Aroden's magic yet left here in this carving of Absalom," he notes, "You may obtain a blessing of the Last Azlanti if you know how. There is a ritual associated with each of the carvings you saw in the room before you. Some of our pilgrims were known to also perform them before this diorama while they were in the pool. Perhaps you would like to try. I am curious to first see what you come up with - try to understand the true nature of the guises of Aroden you have seen, and in doing so, the actions required ritual will reveal themself."
Uori smiles knowingly at Markus's last comment, "Well yes, but I would like to see what you can do on your own first. Take the lessons of the carvings to heart, and display to Aroden what you have learned in front of this model of his most cherished city of Absalom."
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"Will it be bothersome if I get into the pool to get a closer look?"
Jillia retroactively asks politely, having already taken a step and a half in.
"We should probably get a good sketch of the Absalom carving. Look! It's even got an intact Precipice Quarter!"
The Tri-Towers Yard must have had a beautiful view of the Inner Sea. Sad.
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"The carvings seem to represent important roles in establishing a community, with each role being vital for the community's survival and prosperity. Maybe the ritual involves enacting these roles in miniature, using the carving of Absalom as the community in question," Markus postulates, looking around at his companions to see if they agree.
He bends down at the edge of the pool, and uses his hands to scrape narrow furrows in the gravel at the water's edge.
"The gravel is a representation of the fields around the city, which provide food and sustenance. The fields need ploughing by the farmer to make the crops grow."
Markus completes one furrow, then two... then three. Nothing happens. As he digs in a fourth furrow, the city glows a pale green. Markus also glows a pale green, briefly, and then both emanations fade. The halfling sorcerer is left feeling quite hale and hearty.
Uori smiles knowingly. "Yes, well done!" he praises in that strange nasal voice of his.
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As the Scholar hadn't been done, Brobdingnagian scribbles on a piece of paper, glances around, and places it in the miniature city.
Don't You Know? You never split the party
Clerics in the back to keep those fighters hale and hearty
The wizard in the middle, where he can shed some light
And you never let that damn thief out of sight...
The Pathfinders enthusiastically complete the rituals, to the smiles and nods of the gillman Uori.
First green, then blue, then red then white... all of the Pathfinders experience a heady glow and a feeling of well-being as the rituals are completed to Aroden's satisfaction.
Seeing little else to do here, the Pathfinders decide to move on. But which way? To the east is the stench that Uori talked about. To the west, is a path unknown. To fully explore the caves, both would have to be taken eventually... so the Pathfinders take the east path. Best not to have enemies - or a bad smell - at their backs.
Whereas the air around the spring was fresh and crisp, as the companions progress down this side tunnel, the air becomes more stagnant and stale. The damp of these caverns adds a humidity that would be stifling at a higher temperature. Then the stagnant air becomes positively pungent. The passage winds north before another turn goes to the east. The smell of rot becomes almost overwhelming here and the canny adventurers pause a moment to consider before continuing.
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Rin loads her crossbow, and checks to make sure her dagger is still in place.
"When things get rough, it is hard for me to understand you -- most of you at least." Rin looks to Boris.
He said it was some type of language -- there are people who speak like this?
"Just thought I would let you know."
"May Desna's wings guide our steps."
Rin casts Guidance and Virtue on each person, starting with herself and moving from the back to the front.
As Rin's virtue infuses the Pathfinders along with Aroden's blessing, the group screws up their noses and rounds the bend. The musty aroma becomes almost too overpowering, the stench even stinging the heroes' eyes.
The passage opens into a small cavern littered with bits of broken glass, rotting pieces of paper, and other unusable detritus. The body of a humanoid male lies facedown toward the back of the cavern, and four hideous skeletons mill about with flesh hanging from their bones. The companions can't be completely sure, but they do appear to be gillman skeletons.
Brob, however, is absolutely certain. They are definitely gillmen. The body in the corner is most probably a dhampir - the pallor of his skin appears to have predated his death.
Both Jillia and Brob realize that these are animated skeletons, members of the undead family. They are frail and brittle, but hard to damage with pointed or slashing weapons - best to use a club rather than a sword . Like most undead, these skeletons can be damaged by positive energy.
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Finally, something I'm good at!
"Don't worry friends, we will easily destroy these creatures. They are nothing compared to the feared Aspis Dummy we already defeated!" Varus runs in front of two of the skeletons, attempting to smash one with his Morningstar.
Delivering a solid blow, Varus remarks "See? These things can't stand against our combined might!"
Varus steps into the fray and delivers a very solid blow. The skeletons ribcage splits apart, bones flying everywhere. The head of Varus's morningstar continues through to the thing's spine which shatters upon impact. Two halves of a gillman's skeleton fall to the ground, quite dead - again.
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Emboldened by Brob's song and the ease with which Varus crushes one of the skeletons, Markus uses his small stature to slip down the narrow passageway into the chamber, drawing on his magic as he moves. Emerging into the chamber, he points at one of the skeletons on the far wall and launches a ball of sizzling acid at it.
"Rozpustit!"