“You don’t frighten us, stuck-up foreigner with an … ✌ unfortunate code ✌
Blue isn’t finished. “We are not impressed by your ability to count backwards from three …”
✊
Until Red silences him with a raised fist. “Pathfinders, do you know where your guide Waman is right now?”
The two slaves drop to the floor and crawl under their work benches.
“You haven’t thought about him for a while, have you? I wonder what else you have failed to consider?”
Matrialda (11/12 hp)
--
??
--
Angritt + Rath (12/16 hp)
Psamtic
--
Blue bandit
Red bandit
--
Korum
Sinaryn (fatigued)
Palomia + Relas
, do something badass!
|
”What’s this about if we know where our women are?” Matrialda calls down the stairs concernedly. ”Of course I know where Cinnamon, Bologna, and Prismatic are - how could you suggest I would lose track of my favorite granddaughters!?” Insulted, she pulls out a bit of leather from her pouch and slaps it meaningfully against her hand a few times. ”You had better be ready to apologize by the time I get down there, young man!” Translucent layers of cloth blossom out, creating an exquisite evening gown that glows brightly before vanishing from sight.
“That voice! We are being rescued by an angel, Risk.” A smitten voice, muffled by a bushy beard drifts up from under a workbench.
A monk drenched in blood and gore bursts through the open doorway of one of the northern rooms and springs up onto a bench to attack Korum.
“Nani, Cinnamon, Bologna, Prismatic, Angry and the Ugly Pompous One. What has been done to the traitor Waman will now be done to you!”
Round #1:
Matrialda mage armor, (11/12 hp)
--
Green monk
--
Angritt + Rath (12/16 hp)
Psamtic
--
Blue bandit
Red bandit
--
Korum
Sinaryn (fatigued)
Palomia + Relas
, bring it!
Angritt’s spell forces the T-Rex’s highly evolved stomach acid up his oesophagus and into his fang-lined maw.
His master then pushes Rath down the stairs, from where he springs at the startled Red, *CRUNCHING* his shoulder joint and clavicle, before filling the mangled wound with acid.
Round #1:
Matrialda mage armor, (11/12 hp)
--
Green monk
--
Angritt + Rath (12/16 hp)
Psamtic
--
Blue bandit
Red bandit (zero hp, disabled)
--
Korum
Sinaryn (fatigued)
Palomia + Relas
, whatcha got?
While the steelblooded paladin delays, out of desperation and pain Red strikes at Rath.
Because of blood loss, the bandit then slumps to the greasy workshop floor.
Blue declines to engage the antediluvian antagonist, moving through the western doorway where he disappears from sight.
Round #1/2:
Matrialda mage armor, (11/12 hp)
--
Green monk
--
Angritt + Rath (12 4/16 hp)
--
Blue bandit
Red bandit (-1 hp, dying)
--
Psamtic
Korum
Sinaryn (fatigued)
Palomia + Relas
, do something rad!
Korum knocks the green-eyed monk to the ground with his butt, as Relas pounces!
Once the eidolon has finished ‘feeding’ a disconcerting double-puncture wound marks the fallen monk’s neck.
As Palo’s kitty moves west, he notices the neighboring hall is relatively clean and empty – apart from the surviving bandit covering the entrance with a shortbow.
An anthromorphic tiger statue bows to a closed wooden door set in the western wall.
Round #1/2:
Matrialda? mage armor, (11/12 hp)
--
Green monk
--
Angritt + Rath (12 4/16 hp)
--
Blue bandit
Red bandit (-1 hp, stable)
--
Psamtic
Korum
Sinaryn (fatigued)
Palomia + Relas
, yours is the fury!
As Rath rumbles round the entrance-way, the remaining rogue's readied response reactivates:
Blue's *trembling* arrow lodges in the doorjamb by Relas' left ear, as Rath charges his adversary *CHOMPING* down on his bow-arm, like a wardog on prime-rib.
Round #1/2:
Matrialda? mage armor, (11/12 hp)
Angritt + Rath (4/16 hp)
--
Blue bandit (bloodied, still up)
Red bandit (-1 hp, stable)
--
Psamtic
Korum
Sinaryn (fatigued)
Palomia + Relas
Let’s hear you roar!
NO Aaron
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Matrialda makes her way downstairs, looking down her nose at the unconscious men puddled on the floor. "No manners whatsoever." Shaking her head, the elderly woman kneels down next to the huddled form under the table. "I'm terribly sorry, dear, but I didn't quite catch what you said earlier. Are you injured? Did they chain you here? Do you need a cookie?"
Psamtic rushes after Rath into the hall. Sinaryn dodges Angritt and dead bodies, as she makes her way down the steps.
“Are you injured? Did they chain you here? Do you need a cookie?”
“I need a hug …”
As kindly Matrialda checks on the occupant of the space beneath the nearest workbench, he bursts into tears.
“Zamir has kept me chained here for weeks *SOB* Goodness knows what has become of my million acre tea plantation!”
Under Matrialda’s concerned expression, the man calms down and *sighs* “I guess I’m fortunate to have only sustained minor malnutrition and a head cold from my enslavement.”
“But if I could find a good woman to nurse me back to health, why I’d challenge the Thakur himself for her affection!”
As the lone bandit begins losing feeling in his left arm, he blots out the pain and draws a hand axe to fight off Rath.
He then steps 5 feet to the west.
Round #2:
Matrialda mage armor, (11/12 hp)
Angritt + Rath (4/16 hp)
--
Blue bandit (bloodied)
Red bandit (-1 hp, stable)
--
Psamtic
Korum
Sinaryn (fatigued)
Palomia + Relas
, Zamir is coming!
|
Meanwhile, Palo carefully picks her way down the stairs now that the logjam in front of her has been mostly cleared.
"Excuse me, pardon me, coming through...oh, ew," she grimaces as she slips past Angritt and finds herself forced to step over/around Green's body.
"What'd I miss? Granny, you need a hand with anything?" Palo asks, peering around cautiously.
______________
Palo moves closer to the action, ensuring she doesn't get anything nasty on her shoes.
Relas proves unlucky for Blue-eyes, the black cat deciding it’s time to put the human to sleep.
However, as the eidolon moves near the tiger statue it animates, adopting panther-style in a martial artist stance.
Round #2/3:
Psamtic
Korum
Sinaryn (fatigued)
Palomia + Relas
Matrialda mage armor, (11/12 hp)
Angritt + Rath (4/16 hp)
--
Statue (orange)
, what now?
|
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”A million-acre tea plantation, you say?” Matrialda purses her lips for a moment before rising to her feet. ”Bologna! Oh Bologna! This poor soul needs your help - do come quickly!” The matriarch’s voice echoes up the hallway over the sounds of snarls and exclamations of pain.
Walking to the doorway, Matrialda crouches down and studies the occupants of the other table’s underside. ”What about you, dear? Did these mannerless ruffians hurt you? I’m sure I’ve got a cookie in here somewhere...“
“What about you, dear? Did these mannerless ruffians hurt you?”
“I’m fine, thank-you Aunty.”
The tiefling smiles as she crawls from beneath the bench. “Well, apart from being chained up like a dog of course.”
“Oh, and if it pleases you, my name is Risk. You’ve already met Uncle Hot Stuff.”
“A million-acre tea plantation, you say?”
“Hot Stuff, didn’t you say you only worked on that plant… OW! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?”
Korum’s adamantine glaive shatters the pink granite surface of the statue, generating a long, sub-vertical tension crack through the construct.
Psamtic manages to exploit the fault, jamming her greataxe in the thin opening and working it open until the rock-block cleaves apart in half-a-dozen pieces.
Apart from a few empty weapon racks on the walls, the large room contains nothing of interest.
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"Yeah, sure, thanks Relas," Palo replies with a nod and a wave of her hand. She turns her attention to Risk and Uncle Hot Stuff.
"Alright, neither of you are hurt, are you? If you are, we've got healers among us that can help," she offers. "And if not, care to tell us what they've been making you do here?"
“We have mainly been put to work mending broken wondrous items, which I assume Zamir’s people have stolen.”
Risk *shrugs* “To be honest we haven’t been too successful and our overseers have been getting frustrated. Hot Stuff and I both have a minor magical knack in addition to some engineering skills, but we’re not exactly archmages.”
“I was a caravan guard working the main trade route between Niswan and Padiskar, but got captured about a week ago.”
The older man pipes up. “I was brought here while my ransom is being arranged. I live in the south, but have been moved around a lot over the past two months.”
The two exchange looks, before Risk blurts out. “We haven’t been outside of this room for days. In fact, we don’t even know where we are.”
"Any chance I could have your usual share then?"
Hot Stuff looks hopeful. "In honor of our Sun goddess, Surya I usually have a dry Serenith. But this forced drought has been the pits."
"I am sooooo ready for someone to make it rain."
“Scepters? I don’t think so …”
Hot Stuff raises the flask to Sinaryn before glancing at Risk who shakes her head. “This is a specific item you’ve had stolen, I take it?”
“Unfortunately, if it wasn’t broken we wouldn’t see it. It’s possible Zamir has it in his possession, though he could have on-sold it already. Sorry.”
|
The paladin offers Risk some trail rations and his water bag, "Nah, it just came in. If you want, we can escort you back to civilization when were done here. OR, you can go your own way. No bother to us either way. First though, we have some business to take care of. Any idea where we might find Zamir? We need to ...have a little chat."
The tiefling pounces on Korum's trail rations like a social-climber on a Royal wedding invitation. "Sorry, can't talk. Eating ..."
With a mouthful of deer jerky and dried apricots, Risk rummages up enough courtesy to divide the trove roughly into halves, before sliding Hot Stuff's share over to him.
"We'll probably wait for you, but if you could break our chains with your glaive, we can discuss our options while you're meeting with Zamir."
She checks with the older man who nods.
"Although we've never actually seen Zamir, a tiger wanders through our room to the surface and back quite regularly."
Risk points to the west. "When returning, it always heads that-away."
|
|
"A tiger...one of those guards out on the wall was talking to my uh, panther friend about being here for a playdate," Palo remarks as she moves up to study the shackles holding Risk and Hot Stuff. "Do other critters actually pass through for nonsense like that? I just thought he'd had a little too much to drink!"
“The monks say Zamir regularly takes the form of a striped spirit, which is driven to return to the jungle to hunt and … visit lady friends.”
“But, hey.” Hot Stuff *shrugs* “I only work here.”
Palo confirms the iron collars the artificers wear are secured with a simple lock. While the chains are made of mild steel, which could not withstand adamantine cutting tools.
“Then that way we go.”
But no traps are detected.
Psamtic takes the lead and upon trying the door, finds it unlocked.
|
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"Hey, anyone want to try breaking these open before we press on??" Palo calls out as Psamtic and the others begin nosing around the western door. "Like...in case any of Zamir's thugs that might not be here come back while we're busy. These guys might want to be able to defend themselves or hide or something."
|
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"Of course, Bologna dear - that's an excellent idea," Matrialda announces. "Such a precocious child. She's my favorite granddaughter, you know." Bending down to inspect Risk's manacles, she tuts disapprovingly. "No manners whatsoever. Now you hold dear - I'm sure I have a cookie in here somewhere for you..."
After a few seconds of rummaging, Matrialda does indeed produce a soft, dark, sugary confection, as well as a smear of butter. "Now you eat that while we get to work on getting you out of there," the matron says kindly, greasing up Risk's hands with the butter and testing if the manacles slide off.
With Rath’s wounds mainly healed, you make ready for the final phase of your mission. With a steadying breath, Psamtic opens the door and leads the party into the next chamber.
The room is tastefully decorated and comfortably furnished – in stark contrast to the rest of the complex. Cushioned chairs create a comfortable sitting area, and a large tapestry depicting a battle of dozens of dervishes in a bright yellow sandy desert adds color to the room. Stag heads and elephant tusks decorate the walls, while leopard and Sloth-bear skins similarly adorn the floor.
The air is scented with a natural plant extract.
A ruggedly handsome Jalmerayse man stands at the back of the room near the tapestry with a smug look on his face. He holds a familiar scepter in his hand and has it pointed at you provocatively. A young tiger lounges on a sofa beside him and opens his jaws to voice a low grrwl as your approach.
“Easy Jumra. We don't want to be impolite to our guests. Let me guess. You are the intrepid Pathfinders, come to take back your precious artifact!”
“Well, I'm afraid we can't accommodate your needs today. You'd best run along now, and be sure to give your acting venture-captain my regards.” He gives a throaty chuckle, clearly impressed by his own joke.
|
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The paladin uses the adamantine glaive to make short work of the chains keeping the pair in bondage. "Yer name's Risk, huh? Sounds like ya took one. Maybe you should find a safer line of work."
"Look....Zamir is it? Here's the offer. My bosses think you might be useful. Obviously not when it comes to hiring guards. But, they think you could be a valuable addition, far from here. Come work for us. We leave right now. Option Two, my favorite, you say no. Then we end you. In either case, the area will be free of your stink for the foreseeable future."
"As you can tell, I am not known for my patience, so I need an answer now. Oh, and if you hesitate, I'll just figure yer stallin' fer time or up to no good and will act as if yer refusin' these generous terms."
"So Zamir, you gonna live and head to the big time, or die here as nothing more than a stain on all this nice stuff?"
"Yer name's Risk, huh ..? Maybe you should find a safer line of work."
The tiefling sighs “Why are paladins always telling me what to do?”
“My good ser, I have been advised by preachers and teachers far wiser than I, that the most influential heroes lead by deeds not words.”
“I will, if you will.”
"Look....Zamir is it? "
“It is.”
"As you can tell, I am not known for my patience."
“Truly, ser? I never would have guessed.”
"So Zamir, you gonna live and head to the big time, or die here as nothing more than a stain on all this nice stuff?"
The bandit lord sighs “Why are paladins always telling me what to do?”
He closes an eye as he takes Korum’s measure. “Either the Inheritor or Torag, I’d wager. Why can’t I meet a nice, lonely paladin of Arshea?”
“Before you reduce me to a stain on the rug, do you mind if I listen to someone else’s view? They may present an argument in a light I had not considered.”
“Though I doubt they could debate more persuasively than you.” *mock bow*
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Relas considers all of this, a slight frown on his feline features - or as much of a frown as he can muster, anyway.
"You know, you should probably listen to Korum here, Mister Zamir. I'm pretty sure most of us here wouldn't mind putting you in the ground if you gave us a reason to since, you know, you've been enslaving people," the eidolon points out. "Sure, maybe it's legal here, I don't know but we're all the way out here in the middle of nowhere so I don't think the law matters too much right now."
The big cat huffs a big sigh.
"But our bosses wanted to see if you'd come work for us, so...yeah."