Sarusa, for once, does not offer any jibes at Tekkis, seeing the short wick on his temper. She pats Gellig and awaits Karo to appear.
The sun sits low in the west by the time you reach the small fortress that houses the Twilight Academy. Unlike the close streets of the rest of this town, with their buildings pressed shoulder to shoulder, there is a clear space surrounding the gray stones of the structure. A round wall, easily thirty feet high, sloping slightly inwards in some feat of strange engineering surrounds a massive, triangular edifice within, the top of which rises some fifty feet into the sky. No light emerges from within, and despite the warm afternoon sun, this place seems cold and dim, especially where it shadows you from the light of day.
Thick oak gates, banded in iron, sit in a recessed portion of the eastern wall, topped by the same broken moon sigil that sealed the letter inviting you to here. They are easily wide enough to drive several coaches through at once, and appear heavy enough to survive a military assault.
The locals go about their business across the large flagstone square that surrounds this place, although the hundred feet that separates you from them makes it seem like they are half a world away.
The stone of this wall is without seam or joining, and has most likely been magically smoothed, and possibly strengthened as well. This place could most likely survive a prolonged siege, and could be well defended by a decent sized military force.
There is a very well hidden, smaller door on the southern side of the gate.
"Hidden door at the south gate," murmurs the druid.
Morin squints his eyes and studies the south gate and its surroundings for a long moment, then says, "I don't see a thing." Shrugging, he says, "But if we're showing up to conduct some business with these folks, at their invitation no less, it might be best to just walk up to their big, spankin' gate there and give it a knock. Probably take Tekkis to knock on it hard enough ta be heard inside, if he's willin'."
"And Karo, with the box, close behind. Give it a knock, Tekk."
Chloe hums to herself nonchalantly while waiting. If Tekkis doesn't try to knock, she'll meander over and do it herself. The wizards wouldn't be foolish enough to try something outside, right? Even her "caretakers" were that stupid.
Tekk glances at Sarusa, then walks forward. He raps four times - strong blows, but not obnoxiously so - then takes a small step backwards.
Karo stands quietly, occasionally feeling the outline of the box in his pack.
He studies the structure while Tek knocks, but cannot discern anything about it.
The sound of Tekkis' knocking reverberates and echoes off the flagstones of the courtyard, with a greater volume than should be reasonably expected from the force applied.
After a few moments, a shutter in the small door that Sarusa pointed out out slides open, and a pair of small, watery eyes peer out at you for the next half minute, although from the way the viewer's gaze crawls over you, it could very well be half a decade.
Finally, with a rattle of bolts, the small door creaks open, and a sallow-cheeked man with a pockmarked face ushers you in with an obsequious smile. Ah, welcome, welcome, travelers, he rasps with a phlegmy cough. You must be our visitors from the wild hinterlands. Please, come inside, the wise master is expecting you.
He ushers the five of you into a small wooden chamber that appears to be inside and a part of the gate, perhaps five feet wide and fifteen feet long. At the end is an iron door. Once you have all entered into the cramped room, he chants a brief incantation, and drags his hand down. A lever near the door you entered from is pulled down by an unseen force, and eight cast iron bars slide into place from the tops and sides of the door, firmly locking it in place.
Once the exit to the outside world is firmly sealed, he produces a key from within the wide sleeve of his charcoal gray robe and unlocks the iron door before entering. Inside, you traverse a narrow hallway, dimly lit, and surrounded by heavy, velvet curtains of the same unrelieved charcoal gray. He leads you on a winding, branching path, often pulling aside seemingly random curtains to lead you into different passageways.
To any questions, his only response is All in good time honored guests. All in good time. The wise master knows better than I, by cloud and shadow!
After fifteen to twenty minutes of wandering through this velvet maze, you lose sight of your guide at a turn in the path. Behind you is a sea of dark cloth. Turning the corner, you find a plain, unrelieved wooden door, with a knocker shaped like a broken moon.
Karo stands looking around with a mildly bewildered look on his face. Well they definitely know how to put on a show and gain the advantage, do they not? I suppose we should just knock. I don't think we could leave if wanted at this point. He says, looking to his companions for confirmation.
"I'm with ya, Karo. They didn't lead us on this merry chase just to leave us standin' on the docks, eh? I think I could walk us back if we wanted, but we didn't come all this way just to head back to port. By the way, did you notice that the fella that answered the door did a little chant just before he opened up the gate? I wonder, was he castin' a spell on us, to make it seem like we were walkin' through a maze of velvet, or was it a spell to keep him from gettin' lost in the maze?"
With that, Morin steps forward and, standing on tiptoe, reaches for the moon knocker and raps it against the door. He then steps back to stand with his friends, giving a quick shrug, as if to say, "Well, here goes."
Even on the way, Chloe seems concerned with their guide's health. She listens to the way he breathes and takes in what she can of his diseased appearance. Her observation shows in the way she's walking, the and the hitches in her breath that occur so she can listen to the outbursts.
She is so concerned that her sense of direction is muddled.
Sarusa, seething internally and picturing waves from the lake and swarms of locathah overrunning this miserable town, fails to notice a thing and nearly walks into a wall.
"Damned tangles of arcane magic obscuring the ley lines," she grumbles.
Tekk follows the group, remaining silent the entire time, but glancing from side to side as they move through the hallways.
Once Morin drops the knocker, the wooden door swings inward, revealing a cozy office paneled in warm maple with inset book shelves filled with thick volumes bound in leather. Twin oil lamps perch above doors on the right and left side of the room. A large oil painting hangs on the back wall, a dancer garbed in white, whose shadow struggles to rise off the floor of the image.
A small, smiling, rosy-cheeked man, garbed in the seemingly ubiquitous dark gray of this place ruffles through pages in the wooden Davenport desk at the center of the room. He looks up as the door opens, puts down his quill, and swings the lid of the desk shut before rising to greet you.
Ah! Greetings! You must be our recent arrivals! I am Richter Festwick! He rubs his hands together excitedly and waggles his eyebrows. Come in, come in! And what is it you've brought for me?
This man seems to radiate nervous energy. His eyes do not rest, but dart from corner to corner of the room, especially focusing on doorways. He seems ready to run at a moment's notice.
"Why, Ser Festwick, you are positively shaking from nerves. Do you fear something?" The half-elf is cordial in her tone.
Chloe is not without insight into the situation, but her face reflects worry at Sarusa's blatant breach of typical protocol. There were easier ways of getting to that point after lulling the man into security. If he fears something, however, they too should be on guard.
"This is n..neither here nor there, but your friend needs... to be outside for a little while. He is not well. I'm... not saying now, but perhaps in the near future? A-as for what we have... I was under the impression you already... knew."
Fear? Me? Richter replies with a small chuckle. Nothing of the sort, I assure you. I do beg your forgiveness though. After all, five formidable travelers come calling, heavily armed and armored. I am simply wary, as I'm sure you can understand. He favors you with a small smile, his teeth snowy white.
He is nervous, and continues to check the exits.
He looks somewhat confused for a moment, ...my friend? Oh, the doorman. Nevermind about him. I'm sure he'll be fine.
Festwick drywashes his hands and gestures to several ladderback chairs of dark, lacquered wood along the right wall. Please, lets sit, and have a look at this curiosity! As for knowing, well, there is knowing, and then there is knowing, if you know what I mean, he adds with a suggestive wink. Until one has a look, and a think, and a touch, and a feel, and perhaps a taste and a sniff, one never quite knows... Don't you know?
Sarusa fails to discern Festwick's demeanor. She struggles not to blurt out the word "No" to his various queries, and leaves a reply to their magus, frowning in silence instead.
Chloe bites her lower lip. She lets her hand meander to Tekkis' backplate, which she tugs on the bottom to keep him abreast of the fact she knows something is still up. If anyone will be more capable of keeping watch while they continue negotiations, she'd be at a loss to know. Well, granted, any of them could, save herself, but they might be needed socially.
"...Well then. We do have something to.. to show you sir, yes."
Karo glances at Sarusa and Chloe with an uncertain, questioning look on his face. Well..um..yes we might. He swallows hard and grips his pack a little harder. May I ask, what is your interest in the uh..object? I'm a bit of an arcane scholar myself, so let me just say, you have piqued my academic side.
Tekk remains silent, figuring the rest of the group is going to be more diplomatic with Richter.
Morin keeps a watchful eye out, once Sarusa points out how nervous Festwick seems. He fails to watch the man himself very carefully however, and waits to see if Karo can get any useful info out of him.
Festwick favors Karozekas with a small frown, and cocks his head slightly to the side, in an almost birdlike movement. An arcanist? I see. Well, master arcanist, the Twilight Academy is interested in all unknown magical objects. Until I've had the chance to examine yours, I wont be able to grant a final disposition as to its fate. He smiles again, showing his white teeth. This will all go much more smoothly if you produce the item for inspection. That way, we won't have to take up too much of each other's time, wouldn't you agree?
"Why don't you tell us what it is used for...and what it's worth? That would improve our disposition."
Sarusa begins to wish this meeting had taken place anywhere but in the bowels of a wizard maze.
The robed man fixes Sarusa with a firm stare. And how exactly, young lady, am I to tell you what it is to be used for without the opportunity to examine the item? Such things require intense concentration, and I for one, am not disposed toward wild conjecture.
As the words leave the man's mouth, the door to his right slams open, revealing an exact duplicate of Festwick, grim faced and flanked by two acolytes in pale gray robes. He spares a glance for your group before spraying a dazzling cone of lights at his twin.
vs DC 17
The one behind the desk slumps back, stunned while the acolytes rush forward and trash him with smooth wooden cudgels. The new version of Festwick fixes each of you with his gaze. My apologies, he adds gruffly, with no trace of his doppelganger's cheery disposition. We've been having some issues with these lesser simulacra of late. Now... he continues, steepling his fingers. I have been lead to believe that you have a paradox box in your possession. Produce it please.
Tekk glances at the men with the cudgels, then at the man who entered with them. In a bored voice, he asks, "And how do we know you aren't one of these simulacra yourself? You haven't even taken the time to introduce yourself - we were invited up here, and so far, it's been nothing but a waste of time. So... who are you?"
Chloe puts a hand over her face in an instinctive gesture because she definitely feels a headache coming on."What.... wh-what is a simulcra?" she asks in such a voice that it might as well be squeaking like a nervous mouse.
"It's a fake. A duplicate. Festwick, if you are even that, this is quite enough. I've seen flayleaf deals that were more savory than this setup. Your security is either flawed enough to let a doppelganger run loose to the point of nearly taking a precious magical item out from under your noses, or this is some bizarre test, or some other option I can't even imagine. We will meet you in a different locale, and no further games. Let us take our leave."
Sarusa turns to go.
Morin raises a hand and says, "Hang on, hang on. We came all this way, through the little labyrinth to get to meet this guy - or the other guy - no, I guess it's this guy. Let's show him the box, maybe we'll learn something. Then we can have done with it, set about the other task we were going to take on, and get back on the road for our real journey."
Looking down and seeing the bucket he's been carrying, he continues, "By the way, Festwick, we were out for a little sail and came upon these glowing slug-things. I thought you might be interested in studying them - though it'll cost you to take a look."
Karo pulls the box hesitantly out of his pack and sets it gingerly on the desk, leaving one hand on it. I agree with Morin. Though I do not like how things have proceeded. We did come here for answers, though I am not sure we had a choice.
Festwick keeps his silence as you all make your comments, his face still as a frozen winter pond, although there is the slightest twist of his lip as Sarusa turns to go, and an eyebrow quirk as Morin mentions glowing slug things. However, when Karozekas produces the paradox box, he bows his head solemnly and addresses you each in turn.
First, he turns his head to Tekkis, speaking in a much more respectful tone while his assistants drag the unconscious simulacrum out of the door from which they entered. You are quite correct, as the inviting host, it is my duty to introduce myself first to you, that you might know me. I am Festwick Richter, Head Instructor and Chairman of the College of Sages of the Twilight Academy. From your armor, I can only surmise that you are the half-orc, Tekkis, called Smalltooth, and I might add that it is a poor guest who keeps his face hidden in the presence of his host.
He gestures to Tekkis' helmet, before moving on to Chloe. Your half-elven friend is somewhat correct, mistress. However, unless you wish to delve into arcane minutiae, we shall leave the error lie.
To Sarusa he adds, I do not leave the Academy very often. My research and instruction schedules are too demanding, and this shall most likely be our only meeting. However, you are free to leave whenever you like. I shall not bar your path. But since you are already here, perhaps you should listen to your friend, Morin is it? We all have pressing concerns of our own, but perhaps we can be of mutual assistance to each other.
He favors Morin with a small smile. I take it you have braved the Lake, and returned with the Embers that do not burn? Tell me, should I fear the ire of the Trout-men? Will they come to reclaim what is rightfully theirs?
He spreads his arms wide, Of course, my true interest is the paradox box. The Thassilonians knew so much, and so little of it has survived the march of ages. They cannot be forced open, did you know? One either knows the command word, or one does not. However, the ancients enjoyed their little games, much as we do today, and they often left the means of opening their treasures to the clever and patient. Shall we see if I fall into either category? Festwick gestures towards the graven cube. With your leave, I will examine it, but it may take me some time to glean its secrets. Should you wish to leave it here, I will return it to you once I have examined the contents. Otherwise, much as I would hate to lose this opportunity, I must ask you to leave Galduria immediately and take the box with you.
Karo breathes a sigh of relief. Could we not examine it now? Together? Perhaps we could aid in unraveling the puzzle?
Richter nods slightly, weighing Karozekas's suggestion. Aid is never unwelcome, and long-lived folk such as yourself have much to offer. The trick is in the runes, you see. Richter gestures at the whorling patterns embossed over the box. First, we must decipher the script. Hopefully, some clue will be revealed within the glyphs. So tell me, he asks hopefully, how is your ancient Thassilonian?
"Karo. Really. Festwick, first perhaps you can illuminate us on the 'mutual assistance' you speak of, and secondly, just what it is the box might do. Have any been opened? Is it dangerous to do so?"
Morin is briefly taken aback by the long, civil speech from Festwick. Choosing to respond to the part addressed only to him, he says, "Aye, we got the ember slugs. Pretty neat trick they do. And no, I don't think ye've cause to fear the fish-men. Fact is, they'd like to have more doings with Galduria. They've things to trade, and things they want. And they've a concern for your welfare. Told us there are some water-drakes - we killed one, but the rest of the family is still about - and that these drakes were gettin' stirred up, were like to make trouble with folk above and below the water."
Pausing for a moment, afraid he's said too much already, Morin shrugs and continues, "Fact is, they've asked us to help take care of these drakes - and I don't mean feed and care for 'em. They say the best weapon we could bring along would be somethin' that can make a bright, bright light, seems the drakes can't stand it. Have you anything that might serve? I'd be happy to trade you these slugs for it - and that's an offer you don't hear every day - and it'll mean the town's got a better chance of seeing next week, if ye take my meanin'."
Then, realizing what the implications of Sarusa's question are, he adds, "Yeah, what happens when you open the box? Do you even know? Karo, as interesting as it may be, openin' that box'll be like juggling torches on a fresh-tarred ship - a bushel of ways it can go wrong, and likely no way for it to go right. Maybe leave it to Festwick here, and we'll come back and see how it went, if we're not killed by mama drake and her wee ones?"
By mutual assistance, I mean, of course, that we both wish to know the contents of the box. As for what the box itself might do, Festwick's tone becomes more pedagogic, almost as though he were speaking to assembled students instead of hardened adventurers, in and of itself, the paradox box is a vessel. It contains something in perfect stasis, unaltered by the flow of time. Truly, a marvel he adds in a lower tone, almost to himself. I have read accounts of boxes like this one being opened. There is danger involved, for we have no means of knowing the contents. Just as they are shielded from the passage of days, months, and years, so to are they shielded from scrying and divination, in so far as I am aware. This is precisely why I asked you to bring the box here. The danger in opening one outside of a protected environment... He shudders briefly before continuing. Fortunately, we have rooms set aside for delicate studies, such as these. I think we will manage safely enough, he adds with a slightly smug expression.
Turning to Morin, As for your drake problem, well, the local fishermen are always complaining about something or other, but perhaps this time there is something to it. We have lost more boats than would be expected over the past few months. As he speaks, he walks to the door he entered from and opens it just widely enough to poke his head through and whisper something into the hallway.
Jergot, run down to the alchemy lab and see if they have any of those greater light oils, not the lesser ones, mind you, but the ones that shine like the sun. After he speaks, you can hear the scrape of soft shoes on a stone floor.
Closing the door and turning back to the room he nods and smiles briefly to Morin. I think we might have something that would do. How many of the ember slugs do you have?
"Glad to hear you might have something useful for us. I've got a round dozen of the ember slugs to put up in trade. I'd offer you an extra one for free, like the baker's wife, but they took a bit of effort to gather. And believe me, the drake problem is not my drake problem, it's Galduria's. And having seen and fought one of them, my friends can vouch for this - this time there's something to it."
Karo's elven ears almost twitch noticeably as he strains to hear what Festwick is saying outside the room. As the man returns, Karozekas' posture relaxes noticeably. You mention ancient Thassilonian. I unfortunately have yet to learn that language, but surely here.... He gestures to the building at large. ...you know spells to decipher such. That would be the most trifle of obstacles for the great wizards here, I would presume. Karo says in response to the man's earlier question.
Tekk keeps his silence, stoically watching and listening as his more curious companions begin to make progress in the discussion.
No Master Tidelock, an even dozen will be quite sufficient in trade. I believe we have an elixir in our stores that can be applied to any object, causing it to shine like the sun for nearly a full hour before the magic is expended. It will even work to counteract magical darkness, should you encounter any of that. It should meet your needs most effectively.
He smiles at Karozekas. As for deciphering that tongue, yes, there are spells for it, but it is not as simple a matter as reading the glyphs and discerning the key. Paradox boxes are invariably puzzles, or riddles, which must be solved. The translation is merely the first step in that process. He steeples his fingers before continuing. If you care to leave the box with me, I will do my best to unlock its secrets here while you attend to these water drakes. And in thanks for your assistance in that matter, I will perform any necessary spellcasting in my examination gratis. As long as the contents do not pose a significant threat to Galduria, you are welcome to them, although I would be most interested in keeping the paradox box for my own research. He looks at you expectantly, Are these terms agreeable?
"More firepower. Surely you can spare it. We're ridding your town of a drake threat, improving your relations with the locathah, and assisting you with an ancient Thassilonian treasure." Sarusa blurts this all out quickly, then looks to the rest of the group with a mixture of defiance and embarrassment.
Tekk's composure cracks and he actually laughs at Sarusa's outburst. Throwing a thumb in her direction, he adds, "What she said. Plus we'll let you know if we find anything interesting in the drake's lair."
Richter cracks a genuine smile at Sarusa's response and raises his eyebrows in mock affront. More firepower you say? Well... I might have something that would suit your purposes.... At this moment, one of the acolyte's from earlier cracks the door open while knocking tentatively. Headmaster he interrupts in a small, timid voice, here is the elixir you requested.
At Richter's prompting, the acolyte places a pitted, iron phial sealed in black wax with the broken-moon seal of the Twilight Academy onto the table before you, resting it upright on a base slightly wider than its mouth. He bows to you, then to his master before offering a further bit of information. Ah, sir, they've found the last one...
Festwick rolls his eyes and shakes his head at this revelation. Next time Jergot, that information should come first, yes? The acolyte blanches while Festwick Richter turns to to you again. I must take my leave. Priorities. I'm sure you understand. Someone will be by shortly to collect the embers and deliver your... firepower. By your leave, I will take the paradox box with me. Wouldn't do to let that particular item out of sight, now would it? It has been my pleasure meeting with you. I wish you luck in your journey and hope that you return safely to us. Festwick does not wait for your response, but is already striding purposefully out the door as he bids you farewell, paradox box tucked under his left arm, while he rubs a small pearl between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. This is the last time I approve one of Arctur's experiments... you hear him muttering to himself as he takes his leave.
Something is obviously on Chloe's mind. Four times during the conversation she opened her mouth to say something, then stopped. Once the wizard was out of the room, she sags her shoulders and paces.
Tekk turns and watches as Chloe walks back and forth. "Chloe, what's on your mind?"
"The simulcra... h-he's a whole person in himself, I.. I wonder....? What are they going t-to do to him...? He seemed real to me...,"
Tekk turns and looks at Karo and the others, then back to Chloe.
"He's probably like a pet, Chloe. They're just going to make sure he's put back where he belongs and not out here, bothering people like us who don't really understand what he is, or who he is. I wouldn't worry about it. Despite my ... reservations about this place, Mr. Richter actually seemed rather pleasant."
"Nobody tell him I said that."
After cooling your heels for perhaps a half hour, the same acolyte who first admitted you to the front gate returns to the study. The master indicated you would have some embers for me? he ventures in the same rough voice you remember from your earlier meeting. Once the lake slugs are produced, he places them into a small stone box filled with lake weeds and damp fronds before very gingerly handing you three round, woolen bundles, each slightly more than a half foot in diameter. Careful with those, he wheezes. They're ah, quite delicate. He pats at his robes until he finds a pocket and produces a small scroll. Read the instructions first, heh. These came from some goblin fire shaman the gendarmes put down a few months back. Lucky they got to him before he got to the city, only lost some poor dirt farmers, no townsfolk thank the gods. He proffers the scroll to you, and leads you out of the winding curtain maze to the same sally-port in the main gate.
The first evening stars emerge twinkling as you stand in the square, alone with your thoughts and the evening mists.
These goblin skulls are crude but powerful magical explosives, combining the villainous creatures love of fire with lack of true magical control. When a skull is broken, the last creature to have touched it bursts into an intense magical conflagration, easily hot enough to kill a man several times over. Suggest throwing at other creatures, just be sure not to miss. Gloves, gauntlets, etc. do not protect a creature from the effects of the skull, but telekinesis seems quite effective at moving the skulls about without harm.