"Hello?" Aith calls uncertainly, glance flicking to Rocky uncertainly, looking for confirmation that they've arrived. "We are the Knights of Kelmarane, seeking to confirm that all are well within this place, and in the country round about."
If there's any confirmation from their unlikely page - who, to be fair, probably doesn't have to escort many visitors - she'll add, "We've already managed to give one of your number some advice about getting your people home."
Out of the bubbling mud pool emerge two more of the fire snakes.
Maybe it’s the heat, or maybe it’s the ultimately fruitless to-ing and fro-ing to fetch appalling, indeterminate meat for the snakes only to get attacked by still more – though in the last moments of lucidity, the bookish mage dutifully notes that she should not branch out to catering (besides, it would step on Tariq’s toes, and that would be unfriendly), and that nobody likes unholy Rovagug beast tartare – but Aith rather snaps, and this time lets her hand drop to her sidearm.
She takes a few steps back so that the snakes will have to run a gauntlet of melee fighters if they want to take the direct route to nibbling on elf instead of bug, aims, and squeezes off a shot at the first fire snake.
Seeing that diplomacy is over, Haleen stabs the snake.
Aithaloessa shoots off the head of one snake and haleen puts the other on a spit.
The cold weight of the pistol in Aith’s hand is surprisingly comfortable, not least if hostile critters are going to keep jumping out at her. She gathers her courage to press further into the cave, sure that if there is someone intelligent about, they’ll have noticed her gun’s loud report, and ought to be curious.
She glances back at Rocky for a moment, as if to say, Well, where is everyone?
A short flight of stairs lead onwards to the next cave. A broad pool of sputtering lava laps against the walls of this vast cavern. Through the distorting waves of heat and smoke, several rocky islands of various sizes are visible, bobbing on the steaming surface. At the southern edge of the searing pool rises an intimidating metal construct: the coiled shape of a winding snake topped with a strong humanoid torso a holding a spear. Pieces of the craggy roof frequently drop into the lava pool, splashing the liquefied rock. The heat is unbearable even on the bottom of the stairs.
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Antarah's heart skips a beat at the fast paced combat before his eyes. He's glad his companions are quick to their feet and tells them so.
Later, Antarah breathes heavily wiping his sweat before the room with the lava. He wonder who could live here, but remembers they're creature from the elemental plane of fire so it would probably feel... refreshing... to be here. He tells the others "Well, I'm not getting in there. Should I act as herald?"
Before waiting for an answer, he announces "The knights of Kelmarane request an audience with the lords of... this place!" He is sure he did well.
Tariq pats Antarah on his back. "Yeah, well said! That'll teach them!"
Another fire salamander appears in the gap that forms the entrance to the lava cave looking at the carnage the elf and the human created.
“We’re really frightfully sorry about the mess,” Aith chimes up, hoping to break the ice for Yasmeena – and, now that she thinks of it, grateful that any frosty evidence from her weapon won’t last long in these temperatures – “but these second snakes didn’t seem inclined to share in the feast we brought for the others, and tried to eat us instead, which, well, you understand.”
It might be because she's almost melted, this close to the even more hellish chamber ahead, compared to how the heat has weighed down on Aith before, but she manages to sound suitably contrite and helpless. At least, to her own ears.
Yasmeena bows and steps forward with a regal-looking posture. "It is a great honor to meet and treat with you, lords of fire, and we hope that you appreciate the show of force we have provided for you to demonstrate that we are worthy of your respect."
The fire creature doesn't seem to mind the dead snakes, which matches the neglect in feeding them properly.
With everyone talking the slamander tries to find out who is the leader of the group and whom to adress. Failing to do so she adresses the group in general. "You asked for an audience. This shall be granted. Which desire leads you here?"
Tariq looks puzzled, and silently seeks help in the ones more akin to use words for anything else than asking for divine gifts.
“As we explained to your priest,” Aith starts boldly, a rare moment of common sense providing a mental refrain of Don’t say ‘To pacify the area,’ don’t say, ‘To pacify the area,’ before she continues, “We wanted to see how our neighbours in the area were doing, and whether there were any problems we could help with. Uncertainty and unease is bad for trade, and trade is very much what our leaders in Kelmarane are interested in.”
“We gather your people have been … isolated here for some time, but my colleagues and I were able to share some ideas for how you could get back home, and now we’re just seeing what else folk might need after settling affairs between the gnolls and troglodytes.”
For now, she thinks she doesn’t need to mention that that involved freeing their slaves and rampaging through one side. Details, details.
"We can't help you reach the planes en masse yet, but we were able to give Lesaar some suggestions in case you don't want to wait, though we'd be willing to see if we can track down the more usual sort of magic, in the city, for example."
She's also definitely sure that she doesn't need to mention mysterious artifacts of tremendous power that she and the others may or may not have found.
"That is all well. If you talked with Lesar already and gave him ideas, all the better. It would be appreciated if you visit again in case you find better options for planar travel."
"As for the gnolls and troglodytes we don't care. We mind our own business and so do they."
"As a sign of our good will, please accept the gifts my shield bearer will bring you." With that the audience ends and the salamander walks away and out of sight.
Shortly thereafter another salamander appears and lays down two items at the bottom of the stairs. A dried up hand of a monkey and a lusterless pearl. He steps back for one of the knights to pick it up without getting burned.
Yasmeena raises an eyebrow at the monkey's paw gift, and casts a spell to detect magic on both items in an attempt to identify what they might do before any of the knights touch them.
“You are most generous, and we thank you!” Aith calls after the receding figure, before, feeling a bit silly, waiting for her shield-bearer and offering him (and/or Rocky) a coda to deliver, “If you decide not to try something more experimental, please send word to us in Kelmarane, and we'll keep you apprised of our efforts to find a more conventional means of getting you home. Who knows? Perhaps we’ll even stumble across that artifact you mentioned.”
Aithaloessa does, however, carefully squash the wicked part of her mind that would be all too willing to see what sorts of interesting results might emerge from folks willing to brave her more experimental research into magic back into the box it needs to stay in. Even if it seems some people are willing to reward even her more reckless ideas.
Yasmeena whispers to Aithaloessa as she goes forward to accept the gifts: "Both are magic items; I think the paw is some sort of hand of the mage and the other is a bead of force."
"So it's not just a dried up body part of an ape. I was wondering what strange customs they have if they hand out such gifts"
“Glorious,” Aith breathes, acknowledging Yasmeena’s words and the gift again, bobbing into something like a military bow to the salamander shield-bearer.
“I think we’ll take our leave for now, and keep an eye open for any further help we could offer as to planar travel,” she adds before turning away, answering Tariq through the motion, and then letting the formalities slip. She’s obviously quite pleased.
“I think I could get used to a consulting arcanist sort of post. It looks like it would be like being in the lab again, only with fewer chemical burns to identify, missile trajectories to calculate, and of all the ways how people can hurt one another, generally, magical or otherwise.”
Given how wildly unpredictable her magic can be, she speaks with breathtaking insouciance, but she continues easily, “It’s nice to at least make a start on solving a problem without needing to swing swords around, isn’t it? Regardless, as you say, Tariq, unless I’m forgetting something, I think we can return to the surface.”
Tariq shrugs. "Yeah... if we leave something behind, we can always come back and wipe the place outta gnolls again, y'know what I'm sayin'..."
During the way back, he asks about the functioning of the strange monkey hand, if only to keep Aith talking. Even that is better than the ominous silence the place has been left in.
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Antarah offers the fire lords a quick bow and leaves without turning his back to them. In his head it is a sign of respect, but he might have conveyed that he is suspicious of them.
On the way to the surface, he says "Now that was a warm welcome! I stayed quiet because I didn't want to spurt anything offensive in the heat of the moment! They really should call this place Hotterdam, don't you think? Ok, I'll stop."
Once in the cooler surface, Antarah is less flustered and drinks some water. He then comments "This has been a successful trip, no? Although I admit it feels like we're leaving with more questions than we came. What is that scroll after all? Are these salamanders trustworthy? What is the artifact they promised? And... I'm not convinced we actually dealt with... whatever it was that drew us here."
"I prefer to walk back outside." Haleen states and leaves the place through the "Mountain's Maw"
A cleft like a fanged maw cuts horizontally through the pale cliff side, a dark fissure lined with stony outcroppings. Black streaks stain the earth outside the opening, sooty residue as if from some great heat. In uneven blasts faint smoke exhales from the crack like the noxious breath of the mountain itself.
The way back to the house of the beast is a half mile walk along the mountain side.
"So we should check back home, I guess. I've been leaving my business in charge of my apprentice for much too long, I fear what I'm going to fi- wait... weren't there some prisoners?"
"We've got the freed slaves, a freed slaver, an ugly half oger - if he wasn't killed in the meantime - and Aithaloessa wanted to introduce the troglodytes to the temple again." Haleen sums up what's open.
“I’m mainly worried about the people we managed to free, yes,” Aith nods as the group starts on the way back. “It would be cruel to just leave them to take their chances with the desert: I’m not sure how well any of them would deal with wyverns, say, like we had to.”
“For our scaly friends, I think we’ll just have to poke our heads in and make our farewells. They’d figure it out eventually, of course, but there’s no need to be rude about it. After all, they also didn’t try to kill or eat us. And Grundmoch will be particularly glad to know that that impostor's been dealt with.”
A quick visit and a know on the door find the troglodytes in turmoil. Grundmoch is summoning his 'army' already. Which has the nice perk, that you meet him in the courtyard, which is an open air place. Precious fresh air.
"We see, that the gnoll activity is greatly reduced. What news do you bring?" Grundmoch inquires.
“The gnolls are scattered, and your friend avenged!” Aithaloessa exults, pulling herself up to her full height as well as her near-roasted and poison-weakened frame allow. “The impostor was some sort of genie, disguising himself with magic. I’m afraid we don’t know much more than that: he tried to confuse us, sow doubts, about some great evil that we wouldn’t want to fall into the hands of the Carrion King, but that we could … retrieve? I think he was really trying to manipulate all of the players in the area against one another for reasons of his own. It didn’t make much sense – which he didn’t appreciate having pointed out – and in the long, running battle that ensued, he proved slippery enough that when we finally brought him down, we didn’t have the luxury of, er, ‘pulling our punches,’ do they call it?”
“And we dealt with the lunatic spawning the big brutes,” she adds as an afterthought, realizing that she’s run out of steam for tying the whole story up neatly and in high style. She really ought to leave these sorts of things to Yasmeena. “I think that’s the last head of the whole furry hyaena-hydra sorted. The gods give you joy of your temple again, free of bizarre gnoll and genie plots. We’ll be on our way.”
Grundmoch sends a subordinate to fetch something. Once the one returns Grundmoch hands Aithaloessa a decorative golden helmet inlaid with a few small pieces of quartz .
"Here a small parting gift for your great help."
Yasmeena listens raptly to Aith’s summary, fully intending to transform it into a ballad by the time they get back to the city. Needs more Haleen, she thinks with a private grin.
"A nice piece" Tariq thinks, bowing in gratitude. "Once it is sterilised, of course."
The Knights of Kelmarane pack up, fetch the freed people at the tower at the corner of the premises and start their journey back. The travel takes two days but this time it is uninterrupted. Nothing out there would dare to attack a group of about twenty humans.
As you finally reach Kelmarane it is still standing and did seemingly well in your absence. The first watch to spot you from the watchtower shouts 'The knights are back' and it echoes two or three times as it is repeated in the city.
On entering into the bustling Battle Market, you are greeted by Garavel who asks you to join him upstairs for a report.
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Antarah listens to the whole business with the troglodytes with reverence, happy that the situation is resolved. To go back to town, he makes use of his spell to summon mounts to haul much of the heavier equipment they found and also any of the former prisoners who were too hurt or weak to march.
As they return, he makes sure they are fed and hydrated before joining the troupe and Garavel. He thinks of his shop, but it waited about a week for him, it can wait a little bit longer. He is glad he is back in safe territory and doesn't have to stay on his toes and ready to draw his sword at anything suspicious. He would like a bath, but he understands that he has duties, so he gets ready to go upstairs.
Yasmeena listens raptly to Aith’s summary, fully intending to transform it into a ballad by the time they get back to the city. Needs more Haleen, she thinks with a private grin.
As the party takes their gracious leave from the troglodytes, Aith reflects on how well everything turned out, all things considered: she’ll have to beg a small restorative spell from Tariq, they have a bunch of civilians to escort, and who knows what the trogs will get back up to – praying for the end of world or whatever else Rovagug’s lunatics do – but! While “Rokova’s” intentions remain rather obscure, at least his plans have been thwarted, and the Carrion King’s alarming program of pumping out gnolls even more brutal than usual. And the scroll is an interesting mystery that should keep her (mostly) out of trouble for a while.
After a couple days with more mouths to feed than expected, she’s pretty sure that everyone’s getting tired of Goodberry Surprise, even if it’s unpredictably ‘enhanced’ by wild-magic –infused cantrips. Even a more boring change would be welcome, but she knows, as she and the others make their way into the heart of Kelmarane, that the powers that be will want a report before anything else.
Certainly before mages disappear into their shops and labs. Sheriff-ing comes first.
On the way to the usual meeting room on Princess Almah's floor of the battle market Haleen dares Yasmeena "You think you could make the princess blush by adding some raunchy details about the battle with the Carrion King? I would try myself the 'We caught him unprepared with the wrong sword out of his sheath', but I couldn't pull that off with a straight face." She already grins like a cheshire cat.
"I bet Princess Almah has her share of sword fighting" Tariq comments, joining Haleen's grin.
Haleen switches to gossip mode. "Seriously? With whom?" she inquires. "Don't tell me you think Garavel. I haven't seen a single emotion on his face. It can't be him."
There are times that it is terribly inconvenient to have a quick, curious, and creative mage’s mind. This is one of them.
Aith blushes terribly to hear Haleen’s suggestion of including the …details of the improbable tactical advantage the knights of Kelmarane lucked into in their report.
And then the conversation keeps going, and even if Almah can keep her cool, Aith can probably go pink enough for the both of them. She really doesn’t want to think about it, but that dreadfully efficient corner of her brain that seizes onto even the most trivial challenge or mystery starts drawing up a list of the worthies in town. Or unworthies, maybe. Some people are into that.
“I don’t even want to think about it,’ she hisses quickly and quietly. “And I’m a wizard. Thinking is what I’m supposed to do more than anything else.”
Instead, she resolutely turns her brain to the question of what Kakishon might be, even if she’s been running circles around it for the past couple of days, and will probably need to consult Zastoran – Oh gods, don’t even go there! – or even send to the city. That could be exciting! And that, mercifully, sets her mind on a safer track again.
Haleen bites her tongue to not say anything, but ponders the options to get a cheap figurine of a gnoll with its weapon ready and an axe in hand to sneak on Aithaloessa's workshop table.
Yasmeena blushes, but her friend's enthusiasm is infectious. "Do you think the princess would appreciate such bawdy details? I would hate to offend her modesty. Still, it does make us look particularly skilled by contrast, does it not? The brutish nature of our opponent, and our quick and deft response. 'He stood wielding his mighty weapon, having just felled three dueling partners already, then he faltered and it crashed down, as he tumbled to the floor...' Oh no Haleen, I couldn't! How I wish I could not remember any of those details, but they are all scarred in my brain." She shudders.
The knights meet up with Princess Almah, Garavel and Father Zastoran in the usual setting. They get a rather dry report on what was found at the house of the beast and how it was resolved - with killing almost everyone opposing them.
And then there was this other thing, found deep below...
“I think we found what the whole mess was all about,” Aith admits, to wrap things up. “I’m not entirely sure, because ‘Zayifid’ kept playing games to his last breath, but he wasn’t the only one there very interested in something locked in the lower levels, though none were brave enough to try to secure it for themselves.”
Or reckless, she concedes mentally, but by now everyone in the room probably knows her well enough to think it. “It’s a scroll, marked with just one huge rune that I can’t quite make sense of yet. It’s the most powerful conjuration I’ve ever encountered, though, and based on what some of the non-locals were saying, it might be able to establish a connection to other planes of existence? The only other thing I have to go on is a name: Kakishon, though for the life of me I can’t quite recall where I’ve heard it before. I’ll have to think about it a bit more.”
There are limits: left to her own devices, she’s not going to come right out and admit that the stuff that sometimes grows on her arm told her about the scroll. Besides, magicians, secrets, &c. She does, however, happily produce the scroll for the perusal of Almah, Garavel, and, most of all, Zastoran.
Almah gawks at the parchment, with her mouth open. "That's, that's..."