**Creeeeeeak**
Someone has put a sort of large modern art installation seemingly made of rock or dull coral or such right in the doorway--Wait. Did it just move?
575 finds himself staring into a collection of complicated, scything mouthparts.
Aquavius suddenly remembers what Jaks (or whatever his name is) was trying to tell her and the others.
Without thinking 575 pulls his fist back and asserts himself.
A voice cuts through the shadows at the edges of the chamber.
"Who are you?" it demands harshly as if to say to answer wrongly would invite something harsher.
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Oh wait, now she remembers. It's not really clear to her, but she shrugs.
"Oh yeah, giant scorpion behind the doors!" Aquavius snaps her fingers in recognition. "I guess we should have... well, didn't make a difference."
"Have a good time." She responds. "We're Pathfinders."
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Reggie is just lowering his lance when 575 literally punches a scorpion to death. He looks at his weapon in chagrin then puts it away. He counts on his fingers again and again, one eye squinted tight in concentration.
"With such mighty fists"
"I see no need for my lance"
"Please leave some for me."
"Yeah! We're Pathfinders. We're here to help you, I think. If you're Olandil we are." Reggie calls this second part out, piggybacking on Aquavius' statement.
There's a loud sigh of relief. "You came! Poppo's message did come to something after all! Thank the gods! I was just on my way out, too. I only did the hands signs in case someone actually arrived."
A man who only looks a tiny bit like the Jaks on the stage steps out into the chamber's torch light.
"Well then, let's plane shift the hells out of here." he says with a weary, but genuinely happy smile.
"Besides planar teleportation you mean?" he looks at Son's suddenly young face and then considers. Finally he shrugs. "Well we could fly overland through the mountains, and so long as you can keep up the chain lightning and sleet storms up we could burn our way through the army of Strix who guard the passes and then break for the coast, though that's a bit roundabout if you are trying to reach the sea. I would suggest boarding Governor Vedra Sawndannac's command ship the Heart of Erebus subduing her, the hundred-plus marines, Hell Knights, and devils aboard and then faking a command to the rest of the fleet that the Heart has been ordered to return to port and then sailing her away, but you guys are the experts, right?"
"Otherwise, I had arranged passage for one on a whaler, but that's been an increasingly dicey proposition of late."
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"Heh...funny story...we can't do any of that stuff. Our plan was to get out of here on a whaler, too. There's a ship waiting for us offshore but we need to get on a boat to get to it. Any chance we can convince the whaler to take on a few more?" Reggie offers and frowns, stroking his sideburns.
He grumbles as he thinks about the hanged man and what a distraction it was.
Olandil looks poleaxed. "The Society abandoned me for five years, and they send you? Great, now I have to worry about baby-sitting rookies and get us all out of this hellhole alive."
He starts walking. "Well, come on. I'm not staying here another five years."
Sullenly, Olandil leads the party through the Guts. He tells them to keep it down until they get out. "We might not be alone, after all."
At one point he stops in a small side passage and removing some of the bricks uncovers a small stash of tradable goods he's collected. "Here. grab some of this stuff up. We might need to trade it to get you onboard."
"The wand has about sixteen charges left to it. The command phrase is 'Peek-a-boo'."
"The Loyalists got on to me a few weeks ago and have been blackmailing me to try to subvert the rebel factions. So I've been hiding out from everyone ever since. Hopefully my little show will sow enough confusion for us to get to my rendezvous without drawing too much attention." he says in a whisper.
The tunnel becomes rough, the brickwork and masonry gives way to rough-hewn stone and even that comes to an end in what might be a natural-rock chimney fissure that's been widened for a ladder leading up.
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Aiden looks over the trade good and the wand. "Nice. You did well for yourself under a harsh and pretty unforgiving situation. Look, we might not be what you expected, but we'll get the job done. In many ways, we're going to do it a lot like you have been -- through guile and the occasional sharp blade in the right place."
He looks up at the ladder. "We'll need to find you a place to hide until we can get a ship to head out."
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"Rookie? ROOKIE!" Aquavius bellows. "I've broken into temples, sailed or swam the inner seas, climbed through the deepest catacombs of Kaer Maga. And that's only what I did after joining the society!" She finally calms down.
"That being said, this wand is mighty nice. Peek-a-boo!" Aquavius uses it on herself immediately.
"Okay then. Let's see what we can trade."
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Son of Cayden grabs most of the twenty pounds of gear, his muscular frame now evident since the removal of the Boratio disguise. He nods to Aquavius, "Nice wand indeeeeeeed... pass it here my dear- 'Peek-a-boo'! ...ahhhh, I already feel the cobwebs departing my jumbled mind!"
Approaching Olandil, Son of Cayden asks, "Say, you wouldn't happen to have one an original folio of songs or poetry by Amalia Wraxton, hey? good old Major Colson Maldris would like to use it for inspiration in certain parts of the world, now that I think of it."
Approaching Olandil, Son of Cayden asks, "Say, you wouldn't happen to have one an original folio of songs or poetry by Amalia Wraxton, hey? good old Major Colson Maldris would like to use it for inspiration in certain parts of the world, now that I think of it."
"Well maybe 'good old Major Colson' should have showed up himself and five years ago to pick up the full set!" snaps Olandil. He mounts the ladder and climbs up.
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"Fair enough," Reggie says, perhaps the only one of the rescue team who feels like he is still a rookie. Then again, the others actually do have more experience than he does.
He'll take some of the trade goods and add them to Rowdy's already bulging saddle bags. A little more weight won't hurt the wolf, after all.
"Does no one know what a ramp is in this town?" he asks with a sigh as he looks at the new ladder.
At least this will just be a thing Rowdy knows, soon.
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Approaching Olandil, Son of Cayden asks, "Say, you wouldn't happen to have one an original folio of songs or poetry by Amalia Wraxton, hey? good old Major Colson Maldris would like to use it for inspiration in certain parts of the world, now that I think of it.""Well maybe 'good old Major Colson' should have showed up himself and five years ago to pick up the full set!" snaps Olandil. He mounts the ladder and climbs up.
"True. He's a bit of a dill weed if you ask me. Ha ha ha! forget about him... I think he's about to get replaced by Tamrin Creedence anyways!"
Son of Cayden follows Olandil up the ladder.
"Does no one know what a ramp is in this town?" he asks with a sigh as he looks at the new ladder.
At least this will just be a thing Rowdy knows, soon.
{Whine}
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575 watches the interaction with interest, though doesn't really add anything to the conversation. It is clear to him that Olandil is a little bitter about his situation, but making the best of it.
He quickly ascends the ladder with the rest, not sure what extra dangers they will attract with the infamous Jax/cks/ks in tow.
Olandil remains quiet and sullen on the way up.
Olandil reaches the top of the 20-foot ladder and throws open the trapdoor at the top, letting in the salty air, and light the color of Madge's noodly oodly noodles that streams down the shaft. He and most of the rest of the party climb out while down below Reggie is still trying to encourage his mount to climb the steep ladder.
The party is standing in bowl-shaped stone hill overlooking Whaler's Point--part of the stone spit that connects the isthmus to the mainland. Over the rocky outcropping, a small fleet of sailing boats flying the black and red Chelish flag swarms the coast all the way to the harbor’s entrance, at the Pinch.
“You’re too late, Pathfinders,” their leader shouts. “The Navy’s just sneaked its picket boats in under the Shorewall cannons and halted fishing. Your escape’s cut off! Just give up and we’ll send you on our nicest one-way ship out of town.” says a smiling man with long, bladed pole-arm standing on the ridge above. He is joined there by a gang of a lightly armed thugs armed with short swords.
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"Come on you oversized puppy! You went down one just today! That's way harder than going up!" Reggie chides his companion. He actually gets behind the wolf and pushes him toward the ladder.
He has even less luck pushing the creature that is 3 times his size.
The sounds of a conflict drift down to the halfling, though and he glares at Rowdy.
"Fine. I'll go alone! But if I get killed, I hope you end up the purse dog of a hill giant!"
Reggie snatches his lance from the saddle and climbs up to join his companions.
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Sure Reggie's his best pal, but the little two legger has made him climb down a weird broken hill, lay down in a very cold cave moving on the water, carry his shiny outside skin instead of wearing it and didn't even give him any of whatever that other two legger had in that big pot they kept passing by.
He lays down in a huff and watches his friend climb up this broken hill. Maybe when he sees what walking around it like for a while, he'll stop taking Rowdy for granted.
The lead mercenary's smile fades. He and his men set themselves to what they now feel will be the grim task ahead.
Reggie emerges from the trapdoor.
Round 1! (Theme ♬)
The Bold May Act!
_________________
__ Aiden
__ Aquavius
__ Reggie
__ Thugs (4) readied, higher ground
__ Smiling Sellsword readied, shaken, higher ground
__ 575
__ Olandil
__ Son
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575 frowns, unsure where the Chelaxian's came from, or how they knew where to find them, or even what was going on out in the harbor.
But he did know what to do when surrounded by clearly hostile entities.
Chelaxian hands
Have done enough damage here.
This is our response
He moves quickly towards man who is clearly in charge, and weaves up the slope towards him wary of his longer reach. Once there, he unwinds his other fist from somewhere down low, and up in an uppercut, trying to connect with the man's chin.
, for non-lethal damage plus knocked unconscious (DC 17 fort negates).
575 frowns, unsure where the Chelaxian's came from....
575 darts up the incline but the mercenary captain is ready for him and sweeps his guisarme in a wide arc scoring a line of blood across the punch-by-numbers-brawler's chest!
However the sweep puts the weapon out of position when 575 with a quick spin continues his interrupted charge up the hill and connects with the captain's chin!
The blow sends the man sprawling unconscious down the side of the rise.
The remaining ruffians scatter to the four winds.
"Quick, back to the Guts! We've got to find someplace to lay low."
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Aiden laughs as he sees the men run. He puts his sword away and climbs out of the low area and over to 575. "Well, he does have the knack for cutting things short. I probably would have toyed with them a bit first." He kneels and searches the unconscious young man for any items or clues who might have tipped them off.
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Reggie is just readying himself to charge in with his lance (it still works that way...just not as well) when 575 proves he is a one punch man. He resists the urge to shout something offensive about getting knocked out then looks back down the ladder.
"He's never gonna let me live this one down," he mutters before climbing back down the ladder to rejoin Rowdy.
"You know the place. Lead the way." She points at Olandil.
Olandil, now looking determined, leads the party quickly through the underground maze once more and out again in a familiar location--the basement of the Academy of Applied Magic.
He bursts into Prof. Poppo's lab batting the stuff crocodile aside causing it to swing back and forth from its ropes. He marches up to Poppo who was in the process of mixing two interestingly colored liquids into a large beaker.
Olandil drops to one knee looks Poppo in the eyes and says: “Sail the whale, now!”
Poppo paces around the lab, his only response a faint, anxious humming.
“I know you don’t want to stay here. You’ve been working on that thing forever. Let’s get in it and get out of here!”
“No!” Poppo marches up to Olandil. “I’ve been researching for months, but I need time to actually perform the last stages of the ritual properly. If I try to rush it, the whale might collapse, or explode, or sprout feathers, or any number of things that would normally be fascinating but aren’t going to get us out of here. At least not in one piece. And I like being in one piece! Don’t you? You’re just going to have to wait a while. And then we’re all going to need to pray to Gozreh and Nethys that it works.”
Poppo’s voice drifts off, his bright eyes losing focus for a moment, before he clears his throat and announces with renewed optimism, “What I’m saying is, my ritual is a work of art. Just give me a little time, and I’ll have our flawless escape plan ready.”
“There’s no need to worry. Poppo is one of the most skilled wizards in the Academy. He’s just a bit prone to nerves when he’s put on the spot.” Olandil says to the party.
“Hey! I’m right here! And like I said, 'flawless escape plan.'”
Olandil continues, “There is one more factor we still need to take into account. The Loyalists we met at the docks are going to be watching the harbor like hawks. We’ll need to create a diversion, and for that, we’ll need allies. Go to one of the factions. See if you can cut a deal for them to help our escape. A distraction maybe. If I know Pezzack, all of the factions are on guard after my announcement, with spies all over the town, so I doubt that you’ll get a chance to speak with a second faction. I would come with you, but honestly, someone needs to protect the professor, and I don’t trust any of your abilities as much as I trust my own.”
“One word of warning. Once you leave here, the Passfinders are going to be blamed for everything, right?”
Olandil shrugs, “Your point is? I don’t care if the Loyalists tell all of Cheliax the Pathfinder Society caused everything that has ever gone wrong in this town. Once we’re out of here, I want nothing further to do with the Society, and if you all have a lick of sense, you’ll make this your last mission too. The Society doesn’t care about its agents. Why do you think they sent such an amateur team for my rescue?”
“Hey! They’re right here! The most-definitely-not-perfunctory Passfinders! By the way, any stomach cramps? At any rate, if you want to counter the Loyalist’s lies, one of the factions might be able to help you there too.”