Sir Walter raised an eyebrow at the odd requests. "Well, I suppose I can...and certainly, old boy. Touch away, if you think it will help.
It's not like I am in a position to say no, but it was jolly good of you to apologise anyway. This world is full of oddities, wot? Fun, though, apart from how unfriendly some folks are. Even the Hun didn't go for this sort of thing."
"Now...insults, insults..." he paused, considering. "That's a Yank accent, yes? Then you, sir, are a blotto and a simp whose sole source of feminine company comes from whatever penny dreadfuls can be scrounged, wot?"
Naajy reaches out first to the man who is speaking English and wearing clothing of a familiar cut. Images flash through his awareness. A steam ship sailing into New York Harbor. A rolling countryside delineated by carefully tended hedges surrounding a manor house. A portal of whirling snow and blue-white light. Trenches. Gas.
The other man feels different, human but also alien somehow, the difference between fruit grown in one's native soil and the same transplanted to a faraway land. A beautiful woman, maybe a sister or a lover, smiling, a group of comrades in similar dress to this one. Something cuts them down. A ramshackle hut rears up, something beneath it like ...legs?
"A healthy concern, when the world around us teems with witchcraft," the Ulfen man accedes. When Naajy touches his chest, he arches one eyebrow. "Does some manner of magic on this tower interfere with your own? This is no spell I've ever seen." Looking over at his fellow prisoner, he adds, "What language is it that this man speaks? I have never heard the like of it, and he doesn't seem to understand Taldane or Skald."
"Yeah, that's a limey all right."
"As far as I can tell, both of these are what they seem. I think that we should free them and arm them (assuming they want to help us)."
Addressing Sir Walter
"I should warn you that poor Haamid (the tiger) had an unfortunate experience once. I'd strongly advise you NOT to sing anything from Gilbert and Sullivan <Haamid Growls loudly> in front of him. I really can't be responsible for the consequences if you do"
As he says this, he gets Haamid to growl immediately after the Sullivan.
Raising an eyebrow, Walter replied, "Fear not, I have a wide selection of the finest songs memorised. Probably." Nodding over at the other man, he said, "I'd suggest you tell him, but I fear he speaks not a word of His Majersty's English. I'm afraid my singing went quite over his head. But yes, once the chains are gone I should be able to assist a little. This place has become somewhat tiresome."
William sets to work on the locks with the utility knife and a needle. "Ah, you're a local. We are under an -ugh- enchantment that allows us to speak the language of this land. We, as well as the gentleman, come from a land other than Golarion, one without any magic to speak of, but advanced in science and technology."
Now that I think of that, maybe magic is the reason why technology hasn't progressed much here? They have few problems they can't solve with a spell, and therefore no push towards discovery?
"But where are my manners? I'm Doctor William Johnson, pleased to meet you."
"Interesting," the Ulfen man said, nudging his chains into an easier position for the doctor to work with.
"No doubt there is a fine tale behind that. Perhaps when we reach something resembling civilization I could buy you a drink and hear the story in full," he says, standing if he's free to do so and rubbing his wrists. "Tallak Galeas, at your service," he introduces himself. "I don't suppose any of you have met a woman of about a height will me, similar hair, nasty attitude. Goes by the name of Hestrig Orlov."
"You'll have to be patient: I'm a doctor, not a burglar." grumbles William, as the lock resists his attempt to break it.
It takes a couple of minutes of work, but fortunately these locks are not as complex as most that Dr. Johnson might have seen back on Earth. Finally, the two strange captives are free.
Rubbing his wrists and rolling his shoulder, Walter nodded. "Much better old boy. Magic, you say? It's odd, but seems rather common here. A useful spell, wot?" Standing upright, Walter nodded. "Sir Walter Aringham, Captain of the 7th Dragoon Guards, Retired."
After rubbing some feeling back into his hands, Tallak seems ready to get down to business. "If you've not killed Orlov yet we need to move. I'd much rather fight the woman in my element rather than her own, and that means getting out of this tower." He looks over at his fellow prisoner and offers a handshake, in lieu of any verbal communication. Turning to the party, he asks, "Since you've got the magic helping you speak to him, could you tell me what part of that his name was?"
Regardless of the answer, he walks over to the wardrobe, attempting to open it.
William folds the utility knife back into his pocket and gestures to introduce them.
"Tallak Galeas, this is Sir Walter Aringham. Sir Walter, Tallak Galeas. Where did you serve, Captain? I was in the Second Boer War, under Colonel Baden-Powell."
"We already defeated Orlov, although we didn't kill her. She'll live if she's stronger than septicemia."
"Major Singh, Dogra Regiment of Kashmir, on Active Servive. We seem to be foot soldiers in a war not of our choosing"
"Hardly a new experience for some of us"
"Right now, our best course of action seems to be to try and take this entire tower. We're inside now and better to get them all before they can radio for help"
"Major. A pleasure to meet an officer and a gentleman in such untoward circumstances." He nodded respectfully at Naajy, then looked over to William. "Professor. My regiment served in Secunderabad when I joined, and was moved to France soon after the war broke out. I'm afraid I was relieved of my post due to some tomfoolery and retired."
Stretching, the tall man looked around. "Taking this position seems like solid thinking. If you chaps could help me find my equipment, and I assume this fellows too, we'd be rather more helpful."
Tallak can easily separate Walter's equipment from his own, and passes the Englishman his gear first, before starting the rather long process of re-equipping himself: several layers of warm clothing, then his armor, then a series of straps that serve to hold a somewhat impressive number of weapons on his person, before he finally dons a shield and a plain-looking backpack.
"I don't know who Septicima is, Doctor, but I assure you that that woman is a formidable foe for any Taldan," Tallak says, completely missing the point. "Still, if you say she's been dealt with, I have no reason to mistrust you. How much of the tower have you already explored?"
Tomfoolery, eh? I wonder.
"It's just Doctor, Sir Walter. I never went into academia, although things may change after we return to Earth. This place offers the most inexplicable and irritating phenomena, that need to be investigated. Although that would likely have me locked in a mental institution."
"We just went through the kitchen, where was some sort of troll or boggart or whatever sort of creatures inhabit this land. And one had a shape-shifter, masquerading as a woman we met close to New York. I believe that's the mechanic behind the tales of the fey-snatched."
"Are you by any chance a scholar of sciences or magic, Master Galeas? We have found a number of relics that may have some use."
"Apologies, Doctor. Forget my own head next, wot?" Walter pulled his gear on, equipping himself with his armoured coat - which was obviously somewhat heavier than normal - and two sharpened shields with regimental emblems on them. "There, perhaps this time we'll be a little more difficult to deal with than before."
"Not much call for wizardry or Divine magic in my line of work, sadly. Some Rangers can do a bit of magic, and I might have been able to learn, once, but... not a lick of the Gift in me, now." The Ulfen man shrugs. "I might be able to recognize it if it's something terribly common, but besides that, no. Show me an animal or a faerie and I could likely tell you a bit about it."
"Which reminds me," he adds, "speaking of the Fey, this is a little something called cold iron." Tallak unhooks one of his boarding axes and holds it out for inspection, the dull, dark-colored iron lacking the lustre of proper steel weapons. "No alloys, low forging temperature. Pound for pound, harder to work with but about the same as steel for most practical purposes. Rusts a tad easier if you don't care for it. More importantly, though, this stuff just eats magic. Doesn't do much except make it harder to enchant... Unless you're a Faerie. They can't stand the touch of the stuff."
He twirls the axe around to hold it just under the head, offering the handle outward. "I carry two, if anyone thinks they could use one for now. Where there's one faerie, there's like to be more. Social creatures, and friends to witches everywhere beside."
Sir Walter headed off out the door, looking around curiously. He hadn't much of a chance to examine the building, what with all the torture, but assumed that its owner was at the top and that the others from his world had cleared the lower levels, so he started looking for a way up.
"So what's the plan now?"
"I- sort of assumed you would have guns, but nevermind. Well, Master Brautigan, I'd say the plan is to clear the tower of enemies, grab whatever we need and can carry, then head to White Crown or however it was called. I itch for civilization, a tailor and a warm bath."
"Not much of a shot, truth be told. Alright with a machine gun, but that's rather hard to miss with. Better with a sword, fists or these things, wot? But at least this way I won't waste your ammunition, unless you gets have found someone who can make bullets?" Walter continued poking around as he talked.
"So, shall we proceed? So far everything here has tried to kill us. I'd love to take prisoners but lets keep our guard up!"
Here there is a floor of familiar tiles of ice, of the sort that somehow magically whisked you to this level from below. Of course, you aren't sure how to activate whatever the system entails.
Several tables, covered in flowering plants and decorative figurines both large and small, occupy the corners of this brightly lit large room. A large mirror hangs on the northwestern wall, while double doors lead north and south.
The ice brings sunlight into the room to feed the plants.
Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves line the walls of this sprawling chamber. An ornate wooden table, covered with open texts and lit candles, and six chairs sit in the middle of the room. A massive mirror hangs on the western wall.
Remembering the old stories, Walter examined then mirrors. They had always hidden secret passages or been gateways or some other nonsense in the tales, hadn't they? Well, this world seemed to be where some of the tales came from, so perhaps it would work here.
Naajy quickly looks at the books, looking especially for any books on how magic works in this place. Magic 101 textbook, perhaps :-)
"HA! Yes! Finally!"
Drunk on the chance to gain some knowledge, William runs to the library, uncaring of traps or anything, and starts rifling through the books, hoping for a cataloguing system or at least some organization by subject.
"Such a treasure trove!Oh, we definitely have to find a way to bring at least some of these with us!"
All of the books on the table, some open, some stacked, are books in English. Books from Earth. Emily Post, Charlotte Bronte, the collected works of William Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe. de Tocqueville. Little Women. Mark, the Match Boy. Piles of Twain and Crane and Alger.
None of this is what you are looking for, of course. Fortunately, the shelves are filled with books on Golarion history, something called The Great Beyond, various Bestiaries of the Icy North, a book of Russian Folktales, and several books on the nature of divine and arcane magic.
"Be careful!" Tallak says, following the doctor into the library. "Perhaps it is different where you come from, but Wizards guard their knowledge like a mountain lioness guards her young. If anywhere in this tower is trapped, it is this room." He examines the area with the wary eye of someone familiar with the local trapping methods, keeping an eye out for anything useful.
"Does whatever magic allowing us to speak extend to the written word? I'm not much of a a scholar, so I don't think I could pick out the best history books and such for you."
Sir Walter looked up from the mirror he'd been studying without much success. "Any chance you chaps can get hold ofmore of that speak easy magic? Wouldn't mind acquiring that one myself, wot?"
Tallak doesn't find any signs of trouble or danger.
Digger looks for books with pictures. He's literate, but easily bored.
Naajy is frantically studying the works on arcane and divine magic,trying to come to a basic understanding on how things work here. Of course, it is difficult. The entire concept that there is some kind of difference between divine and arcane is pretty alien to him as obviously they are both just facets of the same power. The Gods, the Devils, the Demons, the Rakshasas, the Magi, all wield the same power
What books Naajy is not studying, William is devouring, leaving aside several of his favorite reads to focus on the more mystical side. Soon his hair is messy because of him passong his hands through it.
"This place has gods. Plural, with bona fide miracles being performed daily, and at least two documented cases of ascension. And talented priests can bring back the people from the dead. That's not to mention the future-telling, alchemy, occultism, enchanting, and the sheer variety of creatures around, including ghosts, vampires, demons and dragons."
Exhilarated by the challenge of acquiring that knowledge but daunted by its magnitude, William finds his throat dry. "Anyone has a drink? I need something stiff."
"This is... surprising?" Tallak asks, clearly bemused. "Have you looked at my eyes? Great-great-great... Possibly several more greats, the tribal record gets a bit fuzzy thanks to a particularly harsh winter, but my several generations removed grandfather was a dragon. A... Linnorm, I believe Grandfather said when he was telling me the story. Wise men try not to attract the attention of dragons. Reckless oracles, apparently, bed them instead." He chuckles, shaking his head. "Your world sounds like a dull place, without magic loose in it. I think I much prefer mine."
Digger looks for books with pictures. He's literate, but easily bored.
Most of these books are in manuscript and hand illustrated with beautiful diagrams in rare inks of various colors. The bestiaries contain beautiful drawings of strange beasts.
Fang shows little interest in the books. "This knowledge could be useful in the future, but at the moment we are still inside an enemy fortress. Surely someone will come here soon to check on those we have slain."
"Well, unless this is the top of this place, I'm afraid I don't see the way up, old boy." Walter considered. "Or down, for that matter."
"Yes, we should get moving. Just a second or two more. I'm almost done"
"We have technology like you wouldn't believe." murmurs William from above a thick volume bound in suspicious leather, filtering out Fang's concerns. "Orlov's magic didn't help against bullets."
Even so, he looks for some clues on how to operate the ice tiles system.
"Bullets?" Tallak queries, but he abandons that line of questioning for a quick check of something else. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but our goal is only escape, yes?" He asks, looking for a window and attempting to see how far it is to the ground from where they are.
"Come," Tallak says abruptly, laying a hand on Naajy's shoulder. "We can read later. Select a few books to take with you and let us be gone. I would rather not fight battles we do not have to. The faster we leave, the safer we will be."