Ahto helps Pyrrha collect and store the coins, and then backtracks to the untried eastern door in the previous room.
"Let's see what's in here then," he says, shoving open the door.
He glances around the room, looking at remnants of a fight - especially the claw marks on the wall.
"Not sure I want to tangle with whatever did that," he says, pointing to the gouges in the wall.
Judging from the scabbard you saw at the side of the man whose body you discovered, you'd guess the sword likely belonged to him, and he fled when the weapon was sundered. The claw marks, however, remain something of a mystery, although it doesn't take a doctor to realize that whatever made them is likely what did in the poor fellow you found in the other room. The gouging on the walls seems fairly localized to where the fight occurred, and otherwise the old tunnels seem intact other than the rust and mold growing along their length. Only one door leads away from this room, leaving the only options to head this direction, or farther inwards along your original path through the sewers.
Pyrrha speaks a spell to detect for magic in the room as they enter, "Really should start making this a habit." Regardless of the the fading aura, she kneels to collect the pieces of the broken sword. "The magic may be lost but it would still be a shame to let fine craftsmanship go to waste. We can sell this for twice what I'd have to put into it. Or maybe someone here might like to use it down the line."
As she stands Pyrrha nods to the door on her right, "We should head North from here."
Ahto shrugs, and moves towards the door.
"Alright, here we go, then," he says, putting his strength into budging the door. "Let's see what's in here..."
Heading north, the party finds themselves back in the chambers they originally discovered, and the lone western path stands in the room with the sunken floor. Having searched most of the rooms you're fairly certain there are no secret doors, which only leaves you with two ways to head; west or south.
Let's try this one," Ahto says, trying to force open the southern door.
He enters and moves cautiously towards the slumped figure. He flips his axe into his hand, holding it at the ready.
With his other hand, he motions his companions to follow.
"Hey, you alright, fella?" he says softly to the stranger.
Zeph mirrors Ahto's caution, letting the other man do the talking for the moment as not to startle the wounded stranger. His eyes flicker about the room in the meantime, looking for anything out of the ordinary.
"What on earth happened to you?" Pyrrha only slightly lowers her scimitar as she joins by the others.
As you all approach the man lying on the floor, his eyes suddenly snap open, a feral intensity in his golden eyes. His hand still grips at the wound on his stomach, but you watch in horror as matted grey fur erupts from his skin, and long claws force their way out of his fingertips. A ropy tail uncoils from behind his back as his face elongates into a snout, his mouth opening in a snarl. The wererat leaps to its feet and snaps its jaws at Pyrrha, but she manages to swap the creature aside with the flat of her scimitar. It wheels around again with one hand holding its bleeding wound, the other holding a short sword.
Initiative!
Zeph steps back in surprise and attempts to launch a sharp blade of wind at the wererat. "Can't say I was expecting that!"
Ahto draws his dagger in his off-hand and stands ready with two weapons in hand: Hand axe and dagger.
He moves forward and strikes with his hand axe.
Other than a miraculous dodge, Pyrrha's blade fails to make contact, despite the magical energy she casts through it, giving her cause to step back from the overly aggressive male lycanthrope and prepare to try again with magic.
Zephyrion's burst of wind slams into the creature as it stumbles back into the wall, but it manages to keep its feet as its natural resilience takes the brunt of the blow. The same can be said for Ahto's axe as the creature catches it on one of its outstretched arms; Pyrrha's blow on the other hand is knocked aside by the lycanthrope's tail, sending her scimitar swing wide. The beast then turns to Zephyrion, the only party member who managed to damage it, and swings the blade towards the kineticist's gut. Zephyrion backs away and kicks out at the beast's leg, causing it to fumble and drop its weapon. The short sword skitters across the floor, coming to a stop near the wall. The beast rears back and bites at Zephyrion as well. Miraculously, the creature latches onto Zephyrion's arm and rips away at a chunk of his flesh. The wound already looks sickly and inflamed, just seconds after the attack lands.
Zeph winces as the creature tears away some of his flesh, he steps back and retaliaties with another vicious blade of wind.
Ahto swings his axe again, and uses the dagger in his off-hand to strike at the creature's ribs.
"Silver weapons or magic spell or help someone with those means to hurt the lycanthrope." Pyrrha casts electrical energy into her hand and then arcs it into her sword with an agile lunge followed by a hacking reposte.
Neither Zephyrion or Ahto manage to land a solid blow on the wererat, but Pyrrha's second attack comes in with a vicious overhead chop, her electrified blade giving rise to the stink of flash-seared fur and flesh. Her attack finds her scimitar lodged deep into the wererat's shoulder blade, and as she yanks it away the beast falls to the ground and shudders before lying still.
The rest of the room is barren, just a room for water pipe maintenance is with many of the rest. No hallways lead away from this room that you haven't explored, leaving only one pathway to take; west.
Zeph watches as Pyrrha lands a wicked blow that fells their enemy, he looks at her in something akin to awe and smiles wryly as he says, "You can be rather terrifying Pyrrha. It's spectacular."
He wraps some cloth around his wounded arm, before rifling through the wererat's belongings.
Pyrrha flips her scimitar to the side casting a line of were-rat blood across the floor. She turns to face Zeph, an angry look still fading from the violent exchange, and entirely disarmed with Zephyrions comment. She scoffs with a smirk before she sees Zephyrion has been bitten.
"No!" she said with frustration and concern grabbing Zephyrion's arm in her free hand, "Sh!t, you've been bitten." She looks him in the eye, releasing him to allow him to continue wrapping the wound.
"When's the next moon, anyone know?"
Pyrrha thinks to herself as she examines Zephyrion's wound; the next full moon should rise in about three days time. Until then, it's unlikely any of you will know if Zephyrion has contracted lycanthropy. Heading back towards the other path, the group finds itself in an intersection of pipes and sewer tracks, the water running along channels into the wall. The tracks are closed off by iron pipes, still standing strong despite their disrepair. Three doors lead in separate directions from this intersection; one each to the north, west, and south.
Zeph smiles weakly at Pyrrha's panic, "Well, can't say I have ever heard of a 'chosen one' that was a wererat." He makes air quotes at the word chosen one.
"All the same, we probably need to take some precautions before the next full moon, just in case you are now the 'chosen' King of Rats," Ahto replies drily.
"So, three more doors, hmmm. Let's try West this time." Keeping his axe and dagger in hand, Ahto moves cautiously towards the west door. He places an ear near to it, checking if anything can be heard beyond it.
Placing his ear next to the door, Ahto fails to hear anything from behind it. Taking a moment to glance through the metal grate, he sees nothing, only revealing a hallway leading down towards what looks like another crossroads. A small trail of water runs parallel to the walkway, but Ahto does spy some disturbed dirt along the length of the hallway; a sign someone has passed by recently.
"Someone went this way. What do you think, should we follow?'
"Your guess is as good as mine." Pyrrha lets out with a puff.
"It's better than going where no one has been I imagine." Zeph nods at the door. "In we go."
Heading down the narrow hallway, Ahto pauses as he looks for the scuffs in the dirt. Turning to the north side of the hallway, he can hear the sound of voices in the distance, although they remain fuzzy and indistinct. However, he can make out that they must be speaking Common. He can pick out at least two voices, but there may be more.
Ahto nods his head to indicate that they should move towards the voices.
"As quietly as possible." Pyrrha whispers as she begins to sneak.
Ahto nods, and moves towards the noise as quietly as possible.
Zeph quiets his footsteps and moves forward with the others.
As you move farther in, you can hear the raspy voice of what seems like an old man, speaking to someone else. "Do you take me for a fool? You're nothing compared to me, and you can't hope to hide it from me forever!" You can hear someone taking footsteps along the hard floors, before coming to a stop. "And you! I know you're wrapped up in this too... what do you two seek to hide from me? What do you know of The Last Disciple? You two... I offered you money, compensation... must I resort to violence?" The voice raises to a screech, the raspy undertone grating at your ears. As you approach the room the sounds are coming from, you're met with a solid iron door between you and whomever is speaking, as well as his audience, so to speak.
As far as you all can tell, no one has noticed your approach.
Pyrrha looks to Ahto and Zephyrion for the next course of action.
Ahto pantomimes slamming his shoulder into a door and then shakes his head. He then swallows a chuckle, then pantomimes knocking, waiting and then burying his axe in the face of whomever opens the door.
Pyrrha taps her shoulder and mimics charging in through the door in hopes to cast her vote for the more favorable approach.
Zeph attempts to convey the possibility of himself and Pyrrha waiting in ambush as Ahto opens the door, but accepts crashing in as a reasonable alternative.
At the suggestion of Ahto gate crashing the door, with Zeph and Pyrrha in reserve, Ahto gives a resigned sigh and nods. Taking his axe in one hand and dagger in the other, he lowers his shoulder and waits for the others to acknowledge their readiness to fight.
Pyrrha's sword surges with an arcane energy as she declares her readiness with a nod.
A few seconds later, Ahto's shoulder slams through the door into the next room, with his axe and dagger in hand. Before him, a tall burly man lies in a pool of what looks to be purified water, surrounded by a few half-orcs in heavy armor. While you can't see his body beneath the water, the body above the water line is covered in a series of heavy burns and scarring, across his whole face. "I don't suppose you've ever heard of knocking?" He stares at Ahto, a grimace on his face. "After all, I am entertaining... guests."
Across the room from him at the wall, there are two men tied to chairs and chained to the wall. However, both men do have their mouths uncovered, with both of them clearly having marks from being roughed up, though they don't seem to have been beaten or tortured outright. Pyrrha, you do recognize the man in the pool as Grandmaster Torch, but none of you recognize the two men held captive.
"Ah yes, because you're thugs are the mostly stimulating conversationalists," one of the men says, rolling his eyes. "Truly, you're a wonderful host. Tell me, will there be refreshments after the torture session?"
He's a rather thin looking man, some might even call him gaunt. His hair shows touches of early graying, though he's perhaps thirty, and his eyes are sharp and hawk-like, with pale grey irises that seem to be assessing each of the newcomers. His clothing is obviously of rather fine make, though it's not terribly ornate. A coal grey coat with bright silver buttons sits over a white shirt that seems to have obtained a recent bloodstain, and his pants and boots are both stone grey.
"Sorry to be so abrupt with the entrance. We wanted to be sure to catch-up with you, and save you the trouble of sending another gang of second-rate thugs to cut our throats," Ahto replies to Torch, in a tone that flows from the casual to a tone of cold menace.
The other captured man is silent, but his eyes sweep up and take in the party with hawk-like intensity. He's a rather slight man in worn, plain clothes, in various shades of muted gray and blue, and various states of tatter and patching. Hanging around his throat is a pale gray swath of fabric, and a similar length of cloth is draped around his shoulders and stretches down toward the ground. His hair is ragged black, falling about his face and shoulders, and his piercing steel-blue eyes stare out at the new arrivals.
"Grandmaster Torch, what a pleasant surprise." Pyrrha says with almost enough sarcasm to choke on while she gives the situation a good once-over, "I knew your methods for getting information were questionable, but now I know they are downright unreliable. I hope we aren't interrupting anything important, because we don't have time for this crap."
"Second-rate thugs? I don't do anything second-rate you gutter rat, not even when it comes to exterminators." Torch grimaces as the skin on his face stretches, the burns still livid with pain after years had passed. "Why would I bother to send someone after filth like you lot? I haven't even got a clue as to your name, understand? Now, I suggest you take a second to calm yourself. I'm conducting business, you must realize?" Torch snarls at Darius as he makes a wise crack. He nods his head towards the man, and one of the half-orcs walks over and plants a thick, meaty fist into the captive's stomach. "If you believe this to be torture, you'll find yourself in a sad state if you continue to deny me what I'm after. Now, I ask you again; what do you know of the Last Disciple?"
For the moment it seems, Torch hasn't noticed the others still waiting in the hall behind you, noticeably Korihor.
The dark haired man shakes his head and sighs, looking more exasperated than afraid. "Really? You've been in this business at least as long as I have. You know how it works. Never give out information for free. If I managed to handle the church of Zon-f*cking-Kuthon deciding they wanted some free secrets, do you really thing that I'm going to give you what you want that easily? If you'd like to discuss terms, I'm sure that we can come to an arrangement. I'll even give you a discount. Call it a... professional courtesy."
Zeph watches with anger in his eyes, a storm of wind whirling arout him. This isn't right.
"Sitting here and watching torture isn't something I can simply do. You call us gutter rats, but you admit to not knowing us. You have no idea what we are capable of Torch. We have you at a disadvantage." Zeph sneers and the winds about him pick up speed, disturbing pebbles and dust.
Although his movements are barely imperceptible, keen eyes may pick out slight action from the smaller bound man. Behind his back, Azulth's fingers prod and twist, pulling here and sliding there, working at the knots binding him. He's careful to keep his head down and his eyes forward, but his mind works like his hands: quick and careful. Just get out.
Torch looks incredulously at Zephyrion, clearly a little unnerved despite himself. "Boy, if I don't know your name, than you're not important. I know anyone who's anyone in this city, which means if I don't know you... you aren't of consequence." The burned man laughs; a choked, rattling sound from deep in his throat. "Still, I am at one disadvantage, I suppose; I don't know what you lot want. So, why have you decided to barge in here uninvited, and interrupt me and my... guests."
With that, he casts a disapproving look at Darius. "Unlike the Kuthonites, I have more subtle ways of getting what it is I want from you. You will tell me, and go free, or I will break you. Both of you." Throughout this, Torch's eyes never once touch on Azulth, his hands working slowly and meticulously to escape their bonds. The guards, while they continue to watch him, are not so eagle-eyed, and don't manage to spot him removing his bonds.
"Prettier men than you have tried Torch."