Looking up from the bottom of the great crack in the floor, Tog can see that the sides of it are very irregular and shouldn't be too hard to climb.
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Tog slowly picks himself up off the ground and dusts himself off before climbing up the far side.
He bows slightly to our host. "Don't worry about it, Tog know you mean well. Perhaps I can send you priest later to help you with business plan."
Tog scratches head for a second.
"Tog also sorry about bridge."
Heryn lifts her hands apologetically, saying, ”Wow, I’m really sorry about that. Next time you come, drinks are on me. No need for any legal action among friends, right?”
She turns and leads the way into the wine cellar. As the party joins her, it is seen to be a typical wine cellar, though perhaps slightly more aged than most, given the Wounded Wisp’s longevity. She crosses to the far side of the cellar and studies the shelves a moment, gently pulling a bottle or two out to take a look at them before sliding them back. As she does this, she says absent-mindedly, ”Haven’t had much call for these bottles in a long while, everyone wants stuff that tastes like the Ravenmoor grape…ah, here it is.”
She reaches to a shelf about shoulder-high and pulls on a bottle, but it seems to resist her efforts. She tugs slightly harder and jumps back in surprise as a panel of shelves slides to one side, revealing a well-lit space behind it. Heryn takes another alarmed step backwards and says, ”I didn’t know that was there! Weird.” She peers tentatively through the opening, not moving any closer, and says, ”You guys are armed, maybe you could take a look first? Just to be on the safe side?”
Through the opening, much of the room beyond is visible. A sturdy silver chain hanging from the ceiling ends in a glowing orb that radiates yellow light across the rectangular room. A simple desk of polished wood, stacked with documents and scattered notes, shelters a pair of wooden chests against the south wall. A series of cracks along the eastern and western walls form makeshift entrances into exposed caverns.
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Wicket's eyes become as big as saucers when the plank breaks under Tog's bulk and the big orc tumbles into the dark crevasse. He grins ear to ear when Tog emerges from the depths under his own power, a bit battered, but alive and well.
"You're hurt!" the pudgy gnome says stating the obvious. "You should eat something. A good snack always makes me feel better after I've scuffed a knee or sprained an ankle." Digging around in his pack, Wicket produces a handful of fresh berries.
He offers one to Tog.
Peering through the hidden door, it looks much as described, like someone's well-lit, private study, that happens to be tucked behind a rack of vintage wine bottles below a storied tavern.
Perhaps a closer look will reveal more...
As Tog steps into the room and peers down the narrow stone passage, he hears quiet footsteps approaching. A moment later, he sees a hideous, reptilian creature approaching, and smells something foul and nauseating on the still air of the chamber. At the same instant, as Sobestian approaches the desk, he sees another of the creatures, its scaled tail dragging along the floor as it appears out of one of the tunnels on the opposite side of the room.
As this happens, Heryn moves back into the chamber with the big crack in the floor, looking on in concern as monsters appear in her basement – and keeping an eye on the Pathfinders in her valuable wine cellar. When the creatures are close enough to see clearly, their disgusting stench is overpowering, affecting even those accustomed to the smells of orcs.
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"Troglodytes!? What are they doing down here? Do think this is their office?" Sobestian muses. Holding a sleeve to his nose, he begins to inspire his companions and draws his whip. "They certainly don't look friendly. Pardon us for intruding, we just stumbled into this room on accident. It's quite a remarkable story if you have time."
Wicket is excited to learn that there is a thing that smells worse than troglodyte – and that it’s flash-roasted troglodyte! As the creature steps closer and opens its toothy maw, a small bolt of lightning chars its thick skin, but it keeps on coming! It stops quite decisively, however, when Tog’s axe splits its skull, falling to the floor in a singed heap.
The other troglodyte steps up to Wicket, snarling and lashing out with teeth and claws.
Sobe's whip curls around the troglodyte's ankle, sending the creature crashing to the stone floor. As it lifts its head and looks around to figure out what just happened, Rokdor's invisible fist strikes it square in the jaw.
The first swing of Tog’s axe is enough to put an end to the second troglodyte, though he doesn’t smell any better in death.
With the creatures defeated, Sobestian is able to return to his study of the documents on the desk. The papers chronicle the personal exploits of Selmius Foster, a famous Pathfinder whose name is well-known by even the most junior agents. Most of Foster’s more infamous adventures appear here in varying amounts of detail, but it is evident there is another investigation he had been pursuing before he died: the lost records of a Society agent named Eylysia. The most compelling pieces of information are found on a a letter from Selmius Foster and an addendum from his assistant, Adolphus.
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Sobestian pours over the documents, barely breathing. "Do you have any idea what these are?! I'm holding history in my hands! This a letter from Selmius Foster, one of the original and greatest Pathfinders, and this second one is a note from his assistant, an accomplished agent in his own right!" Sobestian holds the papers reverantly as he hands them over for the others to look at. "Gently now. Wipe that gore off your hands before you touch them! Don't...don't crease them!"
Thinking for a moment, he says. "We should take these to Drandle, this instant!"
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Sobestian suddenly remembers Wicket's wounds and moves to the gnome, looking over his injuries. "Oh dear, you look simply dreadful! Let's see if I can help." He says, as he starts humming a hymn to Sheyln and gently touches the wounds. "La..da...de...I pray to she...who makes everything....bea...u...tiful...."
Seeing some of the wounds mend, Sobestian turns a critcal eye on the gnomes clothes. "That takes care of some of your wounds, but your clothes are a mess! Let's see here. Fa..So..La..Ti..Sew!" He murmurs, as the cloth's rips and tears begin to mend .
*Thanks, Rokdor.
Heryn cautiously approaches the newly-discovered room, saying, "That was the only bottle of that vintage I had...or thought I had. I wonder if he meant for that to happen?"
Sobestian gets Wicket patched up, in more ways than one. Then, following Tog’s thoughtful suggestion, the Pathfinders explore the narrow passageways off Selmius Foster’s study, but find that they lead nowhere. The troglodytes must have been trapped in the tunnels by another tectonic shift, which left no evidence of how they entered.
Heryn shrugs and says, ”You couldn’t find where they came from, huh? That’s interesting. Makes me wonder what else might be down here. But thanks for getting rid of those disgusting things. If anything else comes out of there, there are always lots of Pathfinders around who can help take care of them, maybe some of them will even explore down here further.”
She waves for you to follow her back the way you came, saying, ”For now, I found another board we can use to cross the big crack here, if we go carefully. You’ll have to tell Dreng that I don’t have the wine he wanted, I’m sure there are others he’d like to try.”
Heryn lays a long board across the crack, then slowly moves across it, her arms out for balance. From the far side, she gestures for you to cross.
As Wicket and Tog conduct an in-depth strategic discussion, Rokdor finds a note containing further details of where Arkath the stonemason’s burial site is. The Pathfinders make their way upstairs and bid goodbye to Heryn, and soon find the mausoleum where Arkath was buried many years ago, located on the grounds of a temple to Abadar.
The necropolis is surrounded by a high fence, but the gate is open. Looking through it, one can see sturdy stone mausoleums connected by footpaths. A lone priest walks along the paths, his head lowered in thought.
The priest looks up as Tog and Wicket call out, and takes a few deliberate strides toward the gate, his eyes considering the unexpected visitors to this quiet place. As he moves closer, one can see his skin is darker than is typical of Absalom, more like someone from Garund or some other southern land. ”Hello,” he says in an even tone, ”welcome to the burial grounds of Abadar. How can I help you?”
The priest gives Tog a puzzled look, trying to reconcile the half-orc's savage appearance with his claim to be a servant of the Judge of the Gods. He nods consideringly and says, "Interesting, very interesting. Though I'm uncertain what it is you want. A map, you say?"
He begins walking, takes a few strides, then turns quickly back the other way. It seems he thinks better when pacing, even giving his chin a thoughtful stroke from time to time. "Arkath, yes, Arkath! Of course. That name is on an old mausoleum on the north end of the burial grounds. But what is it you want with a centuries-old tomb, if I may ask? "
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Sobestian remains unusually quiet as Tog speaks to man, merely nodding. Finally he speaks up at the man's question. "We saw mention of the tomb on some old papers we found. We are just looking for any clues to his connection to another person mentioned on the papers. I pledge, on my honor, that we intend no mischeviousness."
The priest continues to nod along as Sobestian explains their purpose, then goes quiet a moment, eyeing each of the Pathfinders in turn. "Well, that sounds reasonable enough, I suppose. Come this way."
He leads the party to the northern end of the necropolis.