Helba points to the draconic beast you slew down in the courtyard. "That thing! Dragon-dog! Grr! Argh! Scary!"
Understood. After the worg and that beast, I just wanted to make sure there wasn't something else to prepare for. Now about those cultists. Do you know how many there are?
Helba shakes her head. "I don't know how many cultists there are—at least I think they’re cultists. They called themselves the Cinderclaws, and they said our home was their home now. They threatened to roast us! To peel us and eat us! Ack! And they had dragon monsters with them! So of course we ran from the vaults. Then so many monsters on the ground floor, so we ran up here, to the battlements. That dragon thing down in the courtyard kept us from getting away! It wanted to eat us!"
"Show us where the vault is. I am Pickle, and I'll bring you another ear."
Pickle starts to go through the Halfling's pockets.
The goblin nods gratefully. "There’s a secret door just down the hill to the west. It’s not hard to find when you look, but I can show it to you! It goes right to the vaults, where we used to live; we used the door all the time to go out and hunt for food."
Pickle fidgets excitedly as the monk ties up the halfling. Once he's secure Pickle licks his face to wake him.
"I am Pickle, and you would make a terrible goblin."
Calmont sputters awake and makes a face. "Ew! Get your filthy tongue off of me! I don't want to be a goblin, anyway!"
Once the halfling rouses, Pickle gets up close to his ruined ear. He talks low enough that the thief can hear the unmistakable sounds of the goblin's teeth clicking together while he talks.
"Why do you want to get into the vault?"
Calmont suppresses a shudder and looks at Pickle with wide eyes. "O-okay, okay! There's an elf gate down there. Do you have any idea what someone would pay for information about lost elf gates? A lot!"
Trent whistles to himself as he balances on the edge of the weathered battlements.
"Should we tell the town? I mean, we found out what happened to the goblins. If there's a cult, we might need to rouse the militia? Also, we should turn this do-badder in-to the town for setting that fire.
He gets a slight mischievous smile on his face as he looks away from the captive halfling before looking over his shoulder after a pause.
"Though I suppose I might be a bit more sympathetic if I knew what he knew about Alseta’s Ring..."
Calmont snorts. “Alseta’s Ring? It’s only a ring of elf gates. Connected to places all over the world. Elf. Gates.” Calmont emphasizes those last two words slowly. “You know those? You’re not daft, are you? Don’t you realize how valuable that information is to richies who want to travel fast? Selling that information would get me out from under Voz’s thumb!”
When the halfling gets flippant Pickle spits in his ear hole.
"Maybe we SHOULD go have lunch... maybe we should talk to the word thief with all of his BOOKS!"
Looking at Trent: "after, we'll sneak in deep and BITE the cultists!"
Noticing the chieftess again, Pickle gets puts his mysterious face back on. "I was doused in a pig trough yesterday..."
"Eugh! Gross! What is wrong with you?!?" Calmont shrieks.
Helba raises her eyebrows. "Oh! Were there any pigs inside with you? Oink! Squeal!"
Trent hmms a little bit before bending over the Halfling so his shadow falls on his eyes.
Oh, I doubt you'll have to worry about that much when you're swinging in the wind after being hung as a bandit.
His voice gets darker and darker as he speaks until he finally chokes his voices off and pantomimes himself being hung, his head lolling to the side with his tongue out.
A long moment later Trent resurrects and winks before giggling with a broad smile.
"That's enough of that, let's drag these folks back to town. We can't keep him captive and guard her if we continue on."
After escorting Calmont and the goblins back to Breachill, you met up with a mysterious elf ranger who had been drawn to town by visions of fire and destruction. He accompanied you back to Citadel Alterein, where you finished exploring the upper levels. You met up with a Hellknight armiger named Alak Stagram who had returned to the Order of the Nail's old headquarters to search for family heirlooms.
Using the goblins' secret tunnel, you entered the vaults below the citadel. You fought against boggard and charau-ka cultists from the Mwangi Expanse. Calling themnselves Cinderclaws, they worshipped the evil dragon god Dahak. They claimed their leader Malarunk was further below, working to reopen the portal that brought them here to release their god and destroy your town! You released the Bumblebrasher's mascot, the grizzly bear Big Bumble, who killed all the remaining cultists before being killed himself.
You found a pair of kobolds who dwelled next to the goblins and made peace with them. They gave you alchemist's fires, which you used to destroy a gelatinous cube without trouble. Then you entered the crypts, where several Hellknights had risen as undead due to a necromantic ward. The ward was designed to animate undead guardians in response to an attempt to use necromancy on the honored remains. You swiftly dismantled the ward and laid the corpses to rest without issue.
Further on, you found the remains of a necromantic ritual used to contact the spirits of the dead, and a tunnel leading back to Breachill. You set off down the tunnel to see where it leads...
Traveling down this tunnel is fairly uneventful, and after walking for a mile, it ends at a small underground room with a wooden ladder leading up to a trap door in the ceiling. Clambering up the ladder and opening the trap door, you emerge into a basement storeroom full of jars upon jars of pickles. Pickled cucumbers, beets, radishes, onions, cauliflower, chicken’s feet, and pig's ears line shelves along the walls.
Pickle realizes immediately where you are--the basement of the Pickled Ear, a rough-and-tumble tavern in a run-down part of Breachill, and where he makes his home!
Pickle immediately looks agitated. In a low hissing whisper he says:
"it came into my home... if it hurts her, I'll skin it and and wear him for boots. She's the owner, and a terrible goblin... but she is more than that."
Pickle then creeps up the stairs of the basement as quietly as possible and cracks the door to peek around.
Pickle's efforts at stealth are foiled when a scruffy waiter opens the door to the storeroom. Surprised to see you there, he gives you a disapproving look. "Hey, what are you doing down here, Pickle? You know this area is for employees only. Go on, now! Back into the common room!"
"Where's Roxie? I have to find my new boots."
Pickle walks into the common rooms and begins to look around for the owner.
You emerge into the taproom of the Pickled Ear. It's a rough-and-tumble dive bar and tavern frequented by locals and hardscrabble adventurers alike. It looks like the kind of place where a brawl breaks out nightly.
The propietor Roxie Denn stands behind the bar. The tall woman squints at you as you step out from the storeroom. "Pickle! Thought you were off being a hero or some such?"
Pickle moves over to the counter and sits down. Grinning his most mysterious grin.
"Oh I have. I'd bring you an ear, but I've given it to... Helba.
My adventures always bring me here, this one too. My friends are still in the basement where we emerged..."
Roxie... were you a whelp of the hellknights?"
"A what? What the hell are you on about, Pickle?" Roxie says angrily. "Have you been dipping into the the mushroom jar again? Not sure what sort of 'friends' you've got in the basement, but you do your goblin business on your own time!"
Istarel comes out of the basement after hearing the tone of the conversation change. "I think that Pickle may have given you the wrong impression about what brought us into your basement."
"I know we were all surprised to discover that the tunnel from the Citadel ended here. Do you know when it was initially made?"
Roxie looks Istarel up and down. Apparently, she likes what she sees, as she smiles and makes a show of straightening her clothes. "Well, hello there, handsome. Have a seat and let's chat.
"So you came through the tunnel, eh? I only found out about it a little while ago. Voz Lirayne told me about it. You know Voz? The half-elf that runs the Reliant Book Company? Anyway, she paid me handsomely to keep quiet about the tunnel's existence, as well as her comings and goings. She's a little strange, that one. She dabbles in weird magic, like with skulls and bones and stuff. I dunno what she's been doing, but you could ask her yourself. Her house is inside the shop, too. It's southwest of here, near Vusker's Carts & Wheels."
|
"Dark magic like that is best left alone. Me gram'd say, 'The only good use for bones is in a stock. Gray Lady doesn't take kindly to bone witches.'"
Bruco thinks for a moment, then continues. "Calmont fessed to being under Voz's thumb. I doubt it's a coincidence, him causing trouble and her mucking with dark powers. Time to have a little talk"
As you exit the Pickled Ear, Alak Stagram thumps his fist against his breastplate. "Here is where we part ways, my friends. Thank you again for everything you have done for me. I will remain here in Breachill for some time yet. Please, do not hesitate to call on me whenever you would like."
The Hellknight armiger bows and takes his leave.
***
The Reliant Book Company is small, obscure, and tucked into an out-of-the-way corner of Breachill. When you arrive, you find the shop is locked up tight. The front door is locked, as well as its three windows, each of which is on a different wall of the four-sided structure.
Istarel asks his companions to cover him while he attempts to open the lock
It takes two attempts, but Istarel is able to pick the lock on the front door. The door provides access to a public display and merchandise area. Here you find shelves upon shelves of old books written in myriad languages. At the front of the room is a counter with a ledger of sales as well as an empty till box. Nothing strange is in the ledger beyond the names of locals, boring-sounding names of books bought and sold, and reasonable prices connected to the transactions. Only one of the final entries is of interest—a few days ago, Voz notes the purchase of a magical parchment that could be used to summon a fire mephit, along with a note next to this entry, dated the day before the Call for Heroes, indicating the magic parchment had gone missing.
There are two doors here. One is marked with a sign that says "Staff Only." The other is unmarked but locked.
Pickle creeps up to the "staff only" door and tries to quietly crack the door and peek in.
By some stroke of luck, Pickle spots the clever trap on the door seconds his fingers close over the knob. Spikes are designed to lance out of the doorframe to skewer anyone who would attempt to open it!
Pickles stops just short of the doorknob and turns to look at Istarel, pointing to the mechanism.
Istarel attempts to disable the trap
It takes a few attempts, but Istarel eventually discovers a hidden trigger built into the door's handle. Pressing it disables the trap.
The staff area is a small research room that is in complete disarray. A thorough search uncovers a single note scribbled in a rushed hand. "Aha! Entrance to Alseta's Ring--Guardian's Way."
Bruco recognizes that Guardian’s Way is the name of a long-abandoned military outpost that was used in the Goblinblood Wars. It is located about 6 miles northwest of town in a wooded enclave. The outpost consists of three treetop observation platforms in addition to a single ground-level building, all located in a clearing in a heavily wooded area.
Istarel picks the lock on the other door which leads to an untidy living space. The bed is unmade, a modest chest of drawers has been ransacked, the wardrobe is missing about half its contents, and a small desk in the corner is covered with miscellaneous personal effects such as archivist’s gloves, dented reading glasses, and several alarmingly large balls of lint.
Next to the disheveled bed is a small nightstand, on which lies a book titled Breachill, Outpost of Liberty and several loose leaves of paper. The book presents a perfectly sanitized version of the city's history. The leaves of paper, however, are Voz’s research into the true history of the town, peppered with her gloating and darkly gleeful commentary.
You also find a stash of scrolls hidden behind the remaining clothes in the wardrobe. The scrolls are acid arrow, false life, obscuring mist, and touch of idiocy.
And then an act of serendipity saved their lives. Lord Lamond Breachton, a wandering adventurer, scholar, and wizard, was returning from a lucrative trading trip to Druma when he stumbled upon the amnesiacs’ meager outpost. Even with his powerful magic, kindly Lord Breachton couldn’t solve the mystery of the humans’ origins or restore their missing memories. He took pity upon the villagers, and spent much of his recently acquired wealth on building proper shelters along the banks of what became known as Breach Creek. Further, Breachton helped the amnesiacs acquire food and establish farms, brought in experts to teach them trades, and used his magic and know-how to aid their day-to-day affairs while the townspeople became self-sufficient. In less than a year, the outpost was thriving, and the leaders of the burgeoning hamlet named their settlement Breachton’s Hill. This name was soon shortened to Breachill.
Despite his monumental place in the town’s history, very little is known about Lamond Breachton himself. The wizard’s origins are a mystery, and details of his life before arriving in town are conspicuously missing from the extensive local texts written about the town’s founding. The townspeople know only that Breachton had distinctive, golden-colored eyes, the rich voice of an angel, and flowing white hair that reached past the magnificent robes he always wore. Curiously, the wizard made it clear to those early town pioneers that he was indeed a human, as opposed to an aasimar or other celestial-touched being. History books describe Breachton’s demeanor as exceedingly paternal; he treated each of the town’s pioneers as wayward children regardless of an individual’s actual ages. His kindness and willingness to expend his own resources to help the outpost seemed without limit, however—he made the humans’ survival and well- being his entire focus for an entire year. Then one day, as quickly as he had arrived, Breachton disappeared. The townspeople never heard from him again, but they understood the wanderer’s need to move on. As a final tribute to the wizard, the townspeople erected a statue of him that stands in the center of town to this day.
"This is quite the mystery...but it is MORE than that..."
Pickle prods at the balls of lint.
"we should go to the longshanks' treehouse. That's where we'll find the elf things. And this Voz..."
Pickles looks at Trent "Is Voz a monkey? or.. a frog?"