As Toffitt sorts through the haversacks and finds a place for everything the party has collected he needs to find space for
Aszithef
+2 mithral breastplate
Coldburn (+2 flaming frost greatsword)
MW composite (+5) longbow
+1 animated large steel shield
ioun stone (pink rhomboid, +2 Dex)
ring of protection +2
2 potions of CSW
red-lacquered armband set with a diamond (2,000 gp)
120 pp
Khetru
+2 chain shirt
+1 adamantine greataxe
MW composite (+5) longbow
ring of protection +1
potion of bull's strength
2 potions of CSW
oil of greater magic weapon +3
red-lacquered armband set with a diamond (2,000 gp)
25 pp
Ti'rok Coalfire
+3 moderate fortification full plate
Blackfire (+2 flaming burst unholy greatsword) Unholy? missed that.
helm of telepathy
ring of protection +2
2 emeralds (1,000 gp)
500 gp
Two chests rest in the room beyond this one. Glimmil makes short work of the locks and finds:
22,150 gp
30 large geodes worth 300 gp each
suit of dragonhide plate (blue)
18,925 gp
450 pp
4 potions of invisibility
adamantine battleaxe
The party explores the rest of Lord Vhalantru's house and the lower chambers, but finds no route further beneath Cauldron. The party has a chance to stop by their house and dump the piles of arms and armor before deciding how to proceed.
I think if we're all leaving (and we might have to given the sheer load of supplies) we're going straight to Skie's to dump it all, then to the house.
Also, did my Break Enchantment work?
Once that is done, if the party is splitting up in any event, Atol wants to go to his church. He requests an immediate audience with High Priestess Urikas. If he gets one, he starts with the destruction of Finneas' poor church and details what they found in the manor. He ends with a plea...
"I don't know where to go from here, none of us really does. We know they're somewhere in Cauldron, well under Caudron, but we don't know where. I thought to do a Commune, but I don't know what to ask and the others don't seem to think it will help unless we're very lucky."
Atol looks bewildered and struggles to keep his composure, "I need your guidance my lady, what should I be doing?!"
Toffitt goes to Skie's immediately, asking for magics that might point the way towards the Cagewright's Fiery Sanctum.
Also, did my Break Enchantment work?
Atol's optimistically casts his spell, but unfortunately nothing happens.
Glimmil happily leads the others to Skie's, whereupon he babbles excitedly for almost twenty minutes recounting the Cauldron Five's latest exploits and the subsequent defeat of Vhalantru.
Finally, taking a long breath he wonders.
"So, what's for dinner?"
Toffitt turns an unblinking eye on Glim. "The charred corpses of your gnome family, and of Terrem, if we do not act with urgency. We haven't a moment to waste making jolly." He agrees with the plan to visit the council, once he asks Skie for his priority item: something to help locate Terrem.
Toffitt listens to Atol's plan and nods. "Dyrant, if you will ask Skie for advanced means for tracking down Terrem, And these other sundries , I shall take news to the guard and see if we can start an evacuation. Grey hawk may also be an option, if we can resume our search for the Fiery Sanctum on the morrow."
Dyrant spends the night in the Vhalantru's lair, unwilling to give up a chance to find clues and preparing for all that needs to be done.
"Greyhawk. There is said to be a great temple to St. Cuthbert there...and it is said that you can find anything in Greyhawk. Anything," Dyrant leans back in his chair, rubbing his eyes.
"I'll go on the morrow. I'll see if I can free a few more of the statues before I go, Atol. A few more before I go. If there are supplies we need, give me a list. I can take another if more wish to go, but I know we have things to do here as well."
Dyrant's eyes flicker to the note he left Atol.
Dyrant's eyes glaze over the mounds of gold and treasure, not looking forward to the work of selling it all, let alone explaining to the Greyhawk St. Cuthbertines where it came from, if at all.
"Now, Atol, where did we put the list of statues? Which ones do we need to change back?"
Toffitt nods gloomily at Dyrant's plan. "I do not feel we have time to dither, but we shall need to be prepared when we go to face our foes."
He turns to Atol. "Perhaps you could do a sending to Terrem. I suggest this: 'Fear not, young one. The Cauldron 5 come. Tell me where you are. How many captors are there? What are your captors doing? Be brief.' I doubt he'll know, but maybe we can get a sense of how much time we have."
"Glim, I suggest you speak to the gnomes. Urge them to evacuate the city, and perhaps help the other citizens of Cauldron to do so, as well."
. . . . .
Toffitt assembles Vhalantru's incriminating paperwork and his skin suit, and goes to meet with Skellerang. Should he be turned away, he uses a potion of invisibility to find his way in.
"The Cagewrights mean to bring great destruction upon Cauldron. Their plans are in motion. We are in the process of seeking them out. In the meantime, it is imperative that you evacuate the city. Many lives are at stake."
Finneas says little as the party makes their plans and sells gear. Instead he returns to the Temple of Lordly Might and begins the long process of cleaning the temple and restoring it.
Glimmil frowns as he hears about the delays in freeing the statues the next day, and the further complexities of the spells and rituals needed.
"If we're going to Greyhawk, maybe we can take some of these folks with us? Isn't that where some of the Circle of the Eight live? I'm sure they'd know how to free folks. And, I have an aunt that lives in the Kron Hills if you guys want to make a detour, she makes the best sticky buns you've ever imagined!"
Cog looks up at the mention of food.
"Perhaps Skie has additional scrolls for ameliorating petrification. If the priest indeed can help, it may be wise to free him today. But Glim, we haven't time to see your aunt. Any trip to Greyhawk must be in haste, with swift return."
Toffitt goes over his list of things to do while waiting to see how his visit to Skellerang plays out.
The angel's pinnion and hawk cadaver. Transmutive reagents, combnied just so...
Adjust the formula of mutagen, adding insights garnered from my mummification.
An extract to provide a burst of energy, should wounds threaten to claim me. Death shall have no hold over me.
His golden, preserved irises look dispassionately at the guards as he forces a reassuring smile.
Confident that Vhalantru's manor is now safe, the rest of the party leaves Dyrant to ponder the painting and the stone statues. Except for the occasional drip and splatter of beholder ichor from the ceiling, only Dyrant's movements and musings break the silence.
The rest of the party helps carry the piles of loot across the streets of Cauldron as it will definitely not all fit into haversacks. The jingle of chainmail and clank of platemail quickly attracts attention and soon a small crowd follows at a distance, none of them brave enough to step forward and ask what happened--especially the town guards. By the time the party reaches Skie's, she stands with the door open and quickly ushers the party inside before closing the door.
Finneas, Atol, and Toffitt dump their piles of items before taking their leave to attend to other matters. Glimmil stands amongst a small dragon's hoarde of treasure as Skie asks, "Is it over?"
Finneas makes his way to the temple which still seems more like a morgue. No sounds fill its lifeless halls. No acolytes greet him to relieve him of his burdens, offer refreshment, or light candles in the dark rooms. Half-eaten meals now serve as feasts for the flies and rodents that have quickly moved in.
It occurs to Finneas that magic would make quick work of the mess, but it seems somehow wrong. He cleans away the bits of flesh and the broken weapons, but the blood seeping into the stones here is not just any blood; it is the last blood of a generation that served the temple and gave their lives for it. It seems proper that it should seep into the porous volcanic rock, that they should become a permanent part of the temple.
Despite Toffitt's bestial appearance, he, more than any other member of the party, continues to seek to bring official order to the chaos. He quickly spies a couple guards lurking in the crowd outside of Skie's. They attempt to walk away as Toffitt approaches, but are quickly outpaced. With downturned eyes, the older of the two guards advises Toffitt that Skellerang is in his office, that he really doesn't leave there anymore. He takes his meals there and sleeps there.
"Perhaps you could convince him to take a bath if you talk to him."
At the barracks, other guards quickly usher Toffitt into Skellerang's office. It reeks of urine and soiled clothes and the man himself looks only slightly more substantial than the skinsuit that Toffitt carries.
"Evacuate the city? Why? You'll save it again. You and your friends always do."
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The welcoming Atol receives at the church embarrasses him and would devastate him if he were to compare it with that of Finneas. Several acoloytes rush forward to relieve him of his burdens. They bring him a towel to wash his face and offer to clean his armor. They offer him cold ale and warm bread dripping with butter. People aren't sure exactly what has happened, but news is spreading quickly through the city that the Cauldron Five has again vanquished more monsters. What need does the church have of paladins when they have Atol and Dyrant.
"Where is Dyrant?" one of them asks. "Couldn't wait for his stew? We could have brought him some."
Jenya greets Atol with a compassionate face and reassuring smile that lets Atol know she knows there is more evil left in the world, and especially in Cauldron. She invites Atol into her office and offers him a seat.
"So you still seek the rest of the Cagewrights? Perhaps we can work this out together."
Toffitt's not bestial. He's just... Strange. Maybe it's the musty odor like medicinal herbs where perspiration used to be. Maybe it's that he doesn't blink often or reflexively. Something...
In any case, his strangeness comes through fully at the sight of Skellerang. He arches an eyebrow and returns outside. "Who around here carries weight, now that he is lost in the drink? A grave threat is imminent here. You there. I need you to gather your forces and begin an evacuation. That's right. You lot are going to help me and the rest of the Cauldron Five get people out of the city."
Whether or not aid is forthcoming, Toffitt begins making the rounds. First, he finds Dyrant. "I cannot join you in Greyhawk. My place is here, warning the residents and evacuating those who will leave. I have jotted down a list of needs here. Will it suffice?"
He then makes his way to the brothels and burlesques where his patients ply their trade, then to find the Striders, if they are to be found. He finally makes his way to the orphanage before taking stock of additional measures.
The guard looks confusedly at Toffitt, "Why are we leaving? Where would we go?"
Toffitt considers nearby villages and inns. "There is the Lucky Monkey. Or Redgorge. The options are not numerous, nor easy. But a great evil comes. We will try to stop it, but in the meantime you, my good men, must get the vulnerable out of this city. Will you help those who would save your home?"
Finneas continues his solitary work on the temple.
I'm the High Priest of nothing.
Fifth: There will be others, seeking to learn the way of strength.
What strength to we have? They are all dead.
Fifth: Bones are strongest in the broken places.
They have to heal first. I couldn't even save a ghost.
Male: Well you still have me. Let's go kill something else, you'll feel better.
I've work to do.
Male: Satay. Satay. Say it with me. Satay.
Suddenly hungry, the half-orc will gear up and head out into the city, looking for his favorite satay vendor.
Atol HP: 99/100 +10 temp
Angel HP: 50/50 +10 temp
Weapon Equipped = Cudgel
Conditions = Heroe's Feast (6 of 12h), -1 con (damage)
Channel Energy Left: 2/9
Healing Touch: Atol, Finneas, Toffit
Resistant Touch Left: 8/8
Strength Surge Left: 5/8
Bestow Resolve: 0/2
Purifying Touch: 1/1
Cudgel of the Cauldron Five (2/10)
Pearl of Power Left: first (0/2)
Cassock of the Clergy: Spark; Bless, Sanctuary (DC11)
Chainmail of Luck: Hit re-roll (1/1w)
Lesser (3) Metamagic Rod of Silence (3/3)
Spells Remaining:
0) Create Water, Guidance, Light, Purify Food & Drink, Stabilize -- Arcane Mark, Detect Magic, Read Magic
1) Protection from Evil, Ant Haul, Command, Endure Elements, Obscuring Mist, Liberating Command, Protection from Evil
2) Pilfering Hand, Restoration(lesser), Sound Burst, Suppress Charms and Compulsions
3) Remove Blindness/Deafness
4) Spell Immunity
5) Righteous Might, Break Enchantment
6) Heroes' Feast
7) Summon Monster VII
Atol is more relieved than he cares to admit, though it shows plainly on his features when he talks to Jenya, ”Oh thank you. We need to find the cagewrights. We know they’re under the city somewhere, and we must hurry as they’re up to no good… no good at all. But how do we find them!” Atol says exasperated.
That night he sleeps with Dyrant at Vhalantru's manor, taking his turn at watch - keeping an eye out for any cagewrights that might surface, or other evils that may come calling.
He sleeps uneasily, doubt creeping in and shaking him awake every so often. He looks at Dyrant, and any others who may be there with them, and settles in again falling asleep rapidly. We’ll do it as a team… like we always do.
Will Save
Dyrant wakes the next morning and rouses his companions, anxious to see which of the statues might be real allies in their quest and which are just statues. He will quickly pray with Aralynn, honoring the Cudgel for his gifts and wisdom and rededicating himself to common sense.
Dyrant leans back in his chair, shoving another holy raspberry/chive scone of common sense into his mouth, picking out crumbs from his cassock and putting them in his mouth.
His mind goes over the list of statues and, with Atol and Glim's help, begins to triage the de-stoning.
"Glim, you take your kind, the gnome. He will most likely welcome a friendly face when he is reborn. Atol, you take the two elves. They may or may not be friendly," Dyrant's face blanches, his voice lowers in tone, "Let's be honest, Atol. Most elves are surly, self-righteous, egotistical, arrogant jerks, unlike ourselves."
"And I shall awaken the dwarf and the female. We should endeavor to find allies against a common enemy amongst them," Dyrant says, his voice returning to normal levels.
Glim - male gnome cleric of Garl Glittergold
Atol - female elven cleric carrying a shield with Corellon Larethian
Atol - male elven druid wearing a cowl and carrying a vine-like whip
Dyrant - male dwarven fighter wearing full plate and carrying a greatsword
Dyrant - female wizard in robes
* * *
When the statues are done and the victims debriefed, Dyrant will speak with Glim.
"Are you ready, Glim? We go to Greyhawk to purchase supplies. We'll leave Cog here to guard Atol, right?"
When the gnome is ready, Dyrant will cast Gr. Teleport to get the three of them (Aralynn is the 3rd) to the Temple of St. Cuthbert in Greyhawk. He will use that as a base of operations from which to purchase the items the party needs.
a male elven ranger with a longbow
a female halfling rogue/sorcerer
a male human monk in a battle-ready unarmed stance (real statue)
Glimmil wraps him arms around Skie at their reunion as Cog rushes ahead and claims his favorite spot within her shop right where the sun warms an old Baklunish rug.
"Not yet! The Cagewrongs still hide in the shadows, but we'll fix that up in no time."
After some rest and catching up Skie on all the gory details, Glimmil makes his usual trip to Jzadirune to debrief his fellow gnomes on the state of affairs in Cauldron, making a bee-line for the structure he's come to think of now as the Glitterhold.
**
Glimmil holds a cloak at the ready to wrap around the Glittergoldian's shoulders as he welcomes his return to Cauldron, imagining for some reason that the gnome was probably cold while in statue-form.
"Okay, let's break him free!"
Cog wags his tail excitedly, clearly in tune with Glimmil's enthusiasm to restore a previously unknown cleric of Glittergold to the land of the fleshy.
Toffitt considers nearby villages and inns. "There is the Lucky Monkey. Or Redgorge. The options are not numerous, nor easy. But a great evil comes. We will try to stop it, but in the meantime you, my good men, must get the vulnerable out of this city. Will you help those who would save your home?"
"I would defend my home and I'm sure others will do the same. Don't let the state of our current captain crush your belief in this town's spirit."
"You are asking for a lot. Do you expect the Morkoth to rise from the lake and eat us all? What evil will call Cauldron it's home now?"
"There are others not as capable as we are though. We can make preparations though. Secure some wagons and horses. Check on the less mobile of our citizens."
"What approaches is worse than a Morkoth. A doorway into hell itself, and an invasion by its forces. This is not idle speculation. We've evidence enough, but no time to try such matter in the courts. Our foes prepare their rituals now, we know not where. I've no doubt we can defeat them, but time is not on our side." He sighs. "I've great faith in the city, and respect your service. As you say, though, I would see the vulnerable protected. And, well, you'll need a new acting captain. To whom shall I direct our updates?"
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Suddenly hungry, the half-orc will gear up and head out into the city, looking for his favorite satay vendor.
Finneas opens the door to leave the temple and finds a boy, possibly a young man just into his teens, standing at the temple's door. He wears a mismatched collection of ill-fitting armor. There are plate mail bracers protecting his legs and a bent shield for a breastplate. The sword he holds is the right size for him, but only half of the hand guard remains. The sword is clearly sharp though as it's edge catches the flicker of light from the streetlamps. He clears his throat and tries for a deep voice that quickly cracks.
"Sir, I've come to serve in the temple and protect Cauldron."
The glint of metal can be seen in many of the nearby shadows. With his darkvision, Finneas sees the young ones that populate the shadows holding their weapons and their breaths.
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Atol is more relieved than he cares to admit, though it shows plainly on his features when he talks to Jenya, ”Oh thank you. We need to find the cagewrights. We know they’re under the city somewhere, and we must hurry as they’re up to no good… no good at all. But how do we find them!” Atol says exasperated.
"Do you really need to find them or will they find you? Jenya muses aloud as she sits with Atol.
"I guess it would be best to meet them on your own terms. The labyrinth of caverns and tunnels has been the pursuit of many an adventurer, but frequently they are rarely heard from again. There is a spell, I have not used it myself, that might assist. Perhaps St. Cuthbert will be generous enough to work with the little information you have and guide your path."
Jenya stands and moves to a bookcase where she removes a small prayer book and hands it to Atol.
"Takes this and pray in the morning. The matters of travel are usually the realm of Fharlanghn, but perhaps St. Cuthbert can help you this time."
The next morning, Atol rises early, though a little uneasily. Still a little tired from the restless night, and anxious about what the day will bring, Atol cracks open the prayer book Jenya gave him the night before.
As he reads, he becomes less and less aware of his surroundings. As he reads, he becomes more and more enraptured with his god, St. Cuthbert. His eyes glaze with tears of joy and his prayers linger beyond the hour he usually slates.
He pauses, imagining St. Cuthbert, crumpled hat, white mustache, striding through the sewers and other underground places - hunting their quarry. Tracking them down and bringing down the cudgel on each and every one of them.
He starts, and stands. It is not St. Cuthbert who should be traversing those tunnels. It's me. This is not his fight. It's mine. He'll just make it possible.
Sniffling a little and wiping the last of the happy tears from his eyes, he opens his prayer book and prepares his spells with new insight and preparation...
0) Create Water, Guidance, Light, Purify Food & Drink, Stabilize -- Arcane Mark, Detect Magic, Read Magic
1) Protection from Evil, Ant Haul, Command, Endure Elements, Obscuring Mist, Liberating Command, Protection from Evil
2) Bull's Strength, Pilfering Hand, Restoration(lesser), Sound Burst, Sound Burst, Suppress Charms and Compulsions
3) Remove Blindness/Deafness, Create Food and Water, Daylight, Dispel Magic, Invisibility Purge, Prayer
4) Spell Immunity, Blessings of Fervor, Dimensional Anchor, Holy Smite, Protection from Energy Communal,
5) Righteous Might, Breath of Life, Break Enchantment, Break Enchantment, Flame Strike
6) Heroes' Feast, Find the Path, Heal
7) Grasping Hand, Summon Monster VII
"And I shall awaken the dwarf and the female. We should endeavor to find allies against a common enemy amongst them," Dyrant says, his voice returning to normal levels.
Dyrant mixes a drop of his blood with some volcanic ash and draws a symbol of St. Cuthbert on the dwarf. He utters a short prayer and the stone softens into flesh and fabric. The dwarf raises his greatsword and pauses as he takes in his surroundings. He stares at Dyrant.
"You could be him. A new form. A new body draped over your bulbous mass."
The dwarf takes in Dyrant's girth. "You hid your spherical form more carefully in your previous incarnation. I see you still employ the half-orcs." He gestures to Finneas
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"Sir, I've come to serve in the temple and protect Cauldron."
The glint of metal can be seen in many of the nearby shadows. With his darkvision, Finneas sees the young ones that populate the shadows holding their weapons and their breaths.
Finneas stares at the youth sadly.
Fifth: May I?
I just want satay.
"You wish to serve? All of you wish to serve? Do you know where you are? This is the Temple of Lordly Might. We worship Kord, God of Strength and manly deeds! It is said Kord once rode a shark into the heart of this very volcano so the temple could be built here. He wanted us to be strong. He wanted us to teach that strength to others. But we are no worshippers of We Jas, casting cantrips in the dark. We do not follow Cuthbert, swaggering around with cudgels where our brains should be. No, we have muscle and bone and sinew."
The half-orc takes a breath as he paces towards the exercise yard.
"Those who would serve follow me."
He makes his way to a group of logs used for strength training. Each timber is large enough to give the High Priest trouble, and he moves to one, picking it up and carrying it across the yard.
"Any who are worthy, place a log next to mine."
"That is right. Kord is not just the God of individual strength and heroic deeds, here in Cauldron. We must become something new. We must work to be strong together. Now follow me, your second task is to eat some satay before we return and continue cleaning the temple."
"No. This is why we failed. We relied on our individual strength instead of each other. Working together you could've moved the log and succeeded. But you tried. You made the attempt, knowing you would fail. That is the spirit we will need to rebuild. I go now to find satay, any that are here when I return will be given bunks and put to work restoring this place to it's former glory."
Now can I eat?
Fifth: Sure.
Male: Finally.
"You could be him. A new form. A new body draped over your bulbous mass."
The dwarf takes in Dyrant's girth. "You hid your spherical form more carefully in your previous incarnation. I see you still employ the half-orcs." He gestures to Finneas
"It's not him. I'm Atol, we are the Cauldron Five. The beholder is dead - his body is downstairs if you'd like to see it as proof. We're rescuing you, and hoping you can help us find the Cagewrights."
"How long have you been imprisoned there? Did time pass for you? Were you aware of your surroundings? What was it like?" Atol gets a little carried away with his curiosity.
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A shark? We're hundreds of miles from the ocean! In your mind's eye that's what you think that was? Just so were clear, it was a flame kirin. Hopefully these children will forget. I wish your mother was here.
The young man along with several of those lurking in the shadows of the street enter the temple which still reeks of death despite Finneas's efforts. The young man quickly steps forward and tries to struggle with the log. He tries one end and then the other. He tries rolling it, kicking it, and prying it with his sword, but finally he turns to his companions and calls them over. Like his armor, the group of a dozen boys and girls is a hodgepodge of youths older and younger than he is, larger and smaller, and fortunately a few that are smarter. A teenage girl at least a year older than the boy quickly organizes the pack into an orderly formation of evenly matched youths on each side of the log. She then calls out, "On three! One. Two. Three!"
The youths walk the log over and place it down next to Finneas's. "Watch your toes and fingers as you put it down!" shouts the girl before walking up to Finneas.
"I'm Martha, sir. That boy is Elliott, "Elliott the Idiot," but we love him just the same and he takes care of us, keeps us together." She then proceeds to introduce the rest of the boys and girls.
"How long have you been imprisoned there? Did time pass for you? Were you aware of your surroundings? What was it like?" Atol gets a little carried away with his curiosity.
"Dead you say? Did you get any answers from him before then? Did you ask what he did with Zenith Splintershield, a fellow dwarf? Rumors are that Vhalantru had something to do with his disappearance. I came to confront the man and the beholder emerged from his body."
Dyrant resists rapping the dwarf over his head for his stubbornness, instead slowly facepalms.
"Like Atol has said, we are the Cauldron 5.2. And your kin Zenith was freed by us not so long ago. However, he was re-taken by the same Cagewrights that we currently seek. Now, what information can you give us? And what is your name, dwarf?"
"Arzog Amplebottom at your service. Well, not at your service. I still have to find Zenith. Cagewrights you say? Never heard of them. Where can we find them?"
During the next few minutes Arzog will relate how he heard about Zenith's return to Cauldron. Azrog returned to Cauldron from living abroad only to find Zenith missing again. While bemoaning his luck in a tavern he met another dwarf that suggested Vhalantru was involved, but didn't offer any evidence. Arzog's temper got the best of him and he marched over here alone. This all appears to have happened within the last few weeks.
Glimmil waits anxiously for the gnome to return to flesh, as his mind whirls in anticipation at what he and Dyrant will discover within the free city of Greyhawk.
Toffitt does what he can to sew the seeds for an exodus the evening following the defeat of Vhalantru. That evening, he brings a report of those activities to his friends over Atol's most holy dinner.
"Where can we find them?"
This all appears to have happened within the last few weeks.
Dyrant blanches at the dwarf's answer.
"I don't know where Zenith can be found...we surmise that he might be with the Cagewrights, those who threaten Cauldron. I have nothing else to say to you save that if you find information about Zenith, that you relay it to us. We would be appreciative," Dyrant harrumphs, not getting the information he wished.
"You can find your way out, I assume...it's just that way, past the dead eyes and half-orcs. I do not suggest that you stay in Cauldron too long as it is about to get very hot around here, I fear."
Dyrant looks to see what the elves or wizard or gnome has to say.
Toffitt chimes in, "Better yet, you could help us evacuate the vulnerable from the city. You see, Zenith is to be a sacrifice, like others that bear the mark of Carceri—lambs for a ritual that shall bring hell itself to Caudron. Well, Tarterus. You can help us keep the people here safe while we move to rescue him and all of Orth."
Finneas nods stoicly at the children.
"Why did you come here, Martha? You must know this will be dangerous. There are many who would see Cauldron brought to it's knees and they will not hesitate to kill children who stand against them. If you walk away now, I will think no less of you."
Toffitt does what he can to sew the seeds for an exodus the evening following the defeat of Vhalantru. That evening, he brings a report of those activities to his friends over Atol's most holy dinner.
Toffitt manages to upset quite a few business owners with his proclamations of doom and gloom as a significant number of patrons leave establishments to at least check on their loved ones or valuables. No one seems to be ready to leave town in the middle of the night, but most homes close their shudders and bar their doors.
Glimmil waits anxiously for the gnome to return to flesh, as his mind whirls in anticipation at what he and Dyrant will discover within the free city of Greyhawk.
The gnome cleric returns from stone to flesh, but remains unmoving, his holy symbol still held tightly in his outstretched hand. Long seconds stretch out and the party begins to wonder if he was perhaps the victim of a paralyzation ray as well. However, sharp eyes notice as the cleric slowly scans the room with his eyes. Finally, he lets his arm drop to his side.
"Well, hello there. Adventurers I presume. Glad to see you. Glad indeed. And a gnome amongst you. Garl has truly blessed me. Me being Shafire Cupshigh. How long have I been here? What day is it? Week? Month? Dare I ask the year?"
His questions answered, the cleric will relate his sad story. He came to Cauldron almost a dozen years ago to establish a stronger presence here in Cauldron for the gnomes. He had heard of Lord Vhalantru's generosity and went to visit him and seek his assistance. They dined together and Shafire shared his great plans. Lord Vhalantru mumbled something about it not fitting his plans to have more visitors, especially gnomes, in the city. He then left the room and the beholder entered. Shafire was able to resist a few of the rays, but eventually succumbed to one of them.
Toffitt chimes in, "Better yet, you could help us evacuate the vulnerable from the city. You see, Zenith is to be a sacrifice, like others that bear the mark of Carceri—lambs for a ritual that shall bring hell itself to Caudron. Well, Tarterus. You can help us keep the people here safe while we move to rescue him and all of Orth."
"The mark of Carceri?"
"Hell will come to Cauldron? It appears in many ways that it is already here. I must find Zenith, but I will help move people along as I go. It will give me an excuse to go banging on their doors and rousing them."
Finneas nods stoicly at the children.
"Why did you come here, Martha? You must know this will be dangerous. There are many who would see Cauldron brought to it's knees and they will not hesitate to kill children who stand against them. If you walk away now, I will think no less of you."
Martha stands as tall as she can, which is only about to Finneas's shoulder, but she speaks in a clear voice that does not crack.
"This is our city, too. We might call the alleyways and abandoned buildings our home, but we live here. We have very little except this city and each other. We believe in ourselves and each other, but we need something more. Mother Taskykk took good care of us when we were children, but there is little room for children in this city right now. Any who can hold a sword, who can tell right from wrong and aren't afraid to say so, who aren't afraid to face the darkness must stand together. We need strength right now. We need Kord."
"Well, hello there. Adventurers I presume. Glad to see you. Glad indeed. And a gnome amongst you. Garl has truly blessed me. Me being Shafire Cupshigh. How long have I been here? What day is it? Week? Month? Dare I ask the year?"
Dyrant rolls his eyes.
Gnomes!
"Uhm...Hi. That is Atol, that is Glim. Uhm...yeah...too much information to relate right now. Stick around and see what you can learn or see how you can help. But smart money is to leave the city right now. Go. Flee. As fast as you can. The Beholder, which you've met, was small potatoes compared to what we face next," Dyrant quickly explans, looking to the elves that need to be de-stoned next.
"Go find, Skie. She sells things in the City. She'll help you get out."