Fumbus draws his magic dogslicer and strikes at the nearest elemental.
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Fumbus swings his blade at an elemental. While not a dog, it has the intended effect. The thing tears apart, shrieks in Ignan, and bursts in an explosion! Likely a bit (more) singed, the goblin turns another strike on its comrade.
26+: None!
16-25: 4
7-15:
6-: 18
Keeamah, doddering on her feet a bit courtesy of Thorax, sees the blast. "Enough of this," she murmurs to no one in particular. She steps back, fires a parting shot, and starts sprinting away. She hops down a few feet from the raised floor onto a slightly lower level.
Fumbus laughs gleefully as the flames dance about.
"Where you going?" he smiles broadly. "Are you... SCARED?"
He licks his knife.
Zordox uses his Staff of Evocation to launch a Ray of Frost at the Yellow elemental.
With a wordless snarl, Arkandru slashes down at the elemental with the blue-tinged flames.
"Trofimir, ve must end this fight, now!"
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Thorax adds to Keeamah's terror without even having to sing. Zordox's shot is a bit off the mark, but Arkrandu and Trofimir each score solid blows on the same elemental.
The only other remaining, still under Monsieur Daguerre's sway, continues hacking up smoke. It looks to have more success this time around, but is still not at its best. Its partner tries to retaliate, but can't put two lashes of a tendril together.
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Fumbus swings his blade through the flames as if playing with fire.
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Try as he might, Fumbus does little more than fan the flames this time.
Keeamah, scared and impeded by Thorax, runs the only other way she can - towards his allies. Well, they haven't been as much of a problem, and options are limited. "I'll stop, I'll stop, just stay away!"
Nose twitching - Vat is that smell? It is like someone is cooking meat out here on the plaza. - Arkandru takes another swing at the blue elemental.
As he twists, winding up for another blow, he realizes that the meat cooking is him! With a pained roar, he withdraws from the fight and leaps into the fountain to dowse the flames.
Sighing in relief, he shouts, "Trofimir! Take it down!"
Why he smell like food? Fire-thing make him smell like food?
Ok, get fire-thing!
Thorax heads back through the alley towards the group, scraping his knife against the side of the building.
"We not kill you."
"Just ask you questions..."
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Arkrandu tears right through the elemental with a well-done stroke. It too explodes, singeing him and the others before he manages to put himself out.
26+: None!
16-25: 2
7-15:
6-: 10
Meanwhile, Keeamah does not look so convinced by Thorax's proposal, nor his promises. She seems more concerned looking for an opening to duck by.
Flames lick at Fumbus' ears, but he merely grins as they flicker around him.
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Zordox will cast Telekinetic Projectile again at the Yellow elemental.
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Keeamah looks a bit surprised, not only at the unorthodox request, but because it being offered by another goblin. "...Okay," she breathes, then calls over to the remaining elemental. "Kati te whawhai, ka mate tonu koe."
It puts its tendril-hands down and goes back to choking until it can rid itself of the hostile spell. Putting away her crossbow, Keeamah, looks warily at the team, particularly Thorax. "So much for the ambush. Your tactics are unorthodox, especially the mercy. What do you want?"
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Keeamah takes a moment to piece together what was just said. "Yes. They figured someone with ties to Kefanes would start looking into it."
She pauses, looking almost defiant for a few seconds. The facade is quick to crumble. "No. I was thinking to wait until you asked me the name, but that would be foolish. Best to cooperate, I suppose. Ngasi Bakolo asked me to take down whoever ended up figuring too much out."
"But you'd better let me leave! That answer alone puts me in more trouble, helps you a fair bit. And that's discounting other ones I end up giving."
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Monsieur Daguerre nods sagely.
"Yes, you have anticipated my next question nicely. I must admit, I was expecting you to give me a different name... Out of curiosity, how much were you paid? Can you provide any proof which we can use in a dramatic court room scene?"
"Ees zis nothing more zan a ruse to draw our attention elsewhere? Can zou verify zis information?"
Thorax, bored and salivating, plops down on the ground and starts slicing off chunks of flesh golem with the same dirty dogslicer he's been using this whole time.
Chewing with his mouth full, he murmurs, "Needs garlic."
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Shuddering at Thorax's hygiene methods, Keeamah quickly downs a potion to close up some of the wounds he caused. "I was paid a few hundred crowns, seemed worth it at the time. I gave some to a few old friends, in case I needed help for the job. Turns out I did, and now they're ash."
"There wasn't exactly a written contract, signed in blood or otherwise. She just told me what to do. So I guess I can't prove this, not to your big standards. She mentioned planting some false information to keep things clear, implicate someone else - me and my crew were a last resort. More subtle than she usually is, I feel."
"Look, if you don't believe what you are getting from the other side of the knife, that's your decision," she bursts out, annoyed as her credibility is taken into question. "Scrutinize everyone who might've wanted that golden fool's book. But here's what I know."
"You should join Pathfinders," Thorax says between bites. "You get paid to stab people, too! Only have to gree not to eat Longshanks. But sometimes you stab tastier things anyways. Better than turning to ash."
Arkandru climbs out of the fountain, water streaming from his armor. He winces as he steps down from the short decorative wall. His clothes are ripped and burned, and although his breastplate has held up through the day's violent encounters, the parts of his body it leaves unprotected are either charred from the recent battle or encrusted with the scabs of half-healed wounds incurred earlier.
"Yes, I agree. Ve should go back to Nexus House right avay." He coughs out some smoke.
"Vhile ve are here, though..."
Arkandru uses his own (single) spell slot to cast Heal from his staff.
An angry red patch of burned skin on his left arm goes fades as it heals a bit; otherwise, his condition is unchanged.
"Yes, ve should definitely report to our Wenture Keptin."
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"Fine, I'll come along," Keeamah sighs, sounding physically and verbally defeated. "Seems like as good a place to hide out as any. Not like I have much choice either."
What little remains of the trek back to Nexus House feels much longer as everyone is likely on edge. Still, no new peril befalls the team on their way. A grim-faced Sebnet stand just inside the doorway, apprehensively. She bears a frown and holds Collected Directives in a way few would dare touch such an old and valuable text. “Welcome back, Pathfinders. I hope your investigations were more fruitful than mine. What have you found?”
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"We have new recruit!" Thorax excitedly points to the "Longshanks".
"You give us bonus finder's fee now? Or wait until ninety-nine day review?"
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"The enthusiasm is good," Sebnet cracks a small smile as Keeamah rolls her eyes in exasperation. "But payment and induction - for you or this aspiring Pathfinder - will have to wait.
"I've been poring over Collected Directives all day. It seems the text recovered from Kefanes’s workshop and placed into our care isn’t the original. What we have is a fake, and I’d wager whoever was responsible for the murder now has the book that got Kefanes killed."
At this, the ifrit woman raises an eyebrow. "Ngasi didn't tell me she went to that kind of trouble. I suppose I wasn't to know too much."
"I suppose I wasn't to know too much."
"You already making good Pathfinder."
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"Well, we aren't out of luck just yet," Sebnet says, her usual good mood returning. "Tomorrow evening, there’s a soiree of sorts hosted by the head of the Merchant’s League. It’s the kind of event where everyone who is or wants to be someone makes an appearance, and that includes most of the Arclords. Of course, since the Pathfinder Society maintains good relations with most factions in the city, it would be relatively easy to secure invitations for you."
"You can attend, blend in and the like. Confirm Keeamah here's evidence and bring Ngasi to justice. Ideally you'd incapacitate her, but your safety comes first. I'll let the site's authorities in on this." She looks to the assorted weapons of the team, at least one pair of which is still dirty. "And don't you worry about starting a fight when the time comes! Power scuffles like that break out all the time at this sort of party. It won't surprise anyone. Just keep the property damage to a minimum, and all will be well."
Arkandru gives Sebnet a slight bow to acknowledge her warning about property damage; his motion releasing some of the water trapped in his armor to join the puddle already surrounding him on the floor.
"Of course, ve vill be pleased to attend this party and apprehend this willain! But... I suppose Trofimir vould not be velcome in such refined company?"
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Hearing Arkandru say his name, the bear raises his head from the floor and looks around sleepily. Not seeing any food or enemies, Trofimir's head drops back onto his paws and he begins to snore.
"Fumbus like to fight. And like to party." the goblin notes eagerly.
"A party? Vill zere be sangria zere?"
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"You said he was well trained, right?" Sebnet is already calling over a spectral servant to mop up after Arkrandu. "I doubt it will be too big a problem. There are all sorts of different people there; some might even assume he's intelligent, an extraplanar being or something. Just keep him from mauling the wrong people or knocking over trays."
"And what sort of party would it be without Nirmanthas sangria? Not one that anyone from the Merchant's League would consider attending, not with their carts of coin."
She looks to the assorted weapons of the team, at least one pair of which is still dirty. "And don't you worry about starting a fight when the time comes!"
Thorax remains in a quiet, frozen stupor.
"Just keep the property damage to a minimum, and all will be well."
Judging by the drool beginning to drip out of the corner of his mouth, he must be experiencing sensory overload. Or be in really deep thought.
"Just keep him from mauling the wrong people or knocking over trays."
Knew there had to be some sort of catch...
Surprised by the venture captain's answer, Arkandru breaks into a rare grin.
"That is most generous! Do you hear that, Trofimir? You are going to accompany me to the festiwities!"
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"That should get you in," Sebnet says as she hands each Pathfinder a gilded vellum invitation. "I'll be around as soon as I can, with the authorities!" The gnome is lost to sight as two extravagantly-dressed ushers sweep the team through massive double doors, into the gala proper.
The ballroom is filled with a dull roar of conversation, laughter, and music as the gathering is in full swing. The space boasts marble floors gleaming with a perfect shine, lavish woven carpets, and silk draperies over latticed windows allowing the light evening breeze in; glass globes holding colored flames dangle from the ceiling overhead. Guests hail from nearly every part of Golarion, flaunting everything from Varisian dancing scarves to colorful Garundi garb, Keleshite headscarves to Vudrani wraps to Tian silks. A distinctive construct engages in conversation with two robed women, a cleric of Nethys wears a half-black and half-white garment reflecting his holy symbol, and a tall lithe figure near one wall wears a unique full-body suit of leather armor. A small army of house golems moves through the crowd serving hors d’oeuvres and a range of beverages, while a small orchestra at the far end of the hall performs selections from the latest Kintargan operas.