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Roumatha glares intensely at the creature that once was Marcon Tinol.
"I respect the discipline forged by centuries in solitude and the desire to set right the wrongs which bound you to this unlife; but up on the surface there are countless living people and the preternatural hunger of undeath is unyielding. One wrong impulse may cost life for both you and us. It will be safer for everyone if you agree to be escorted in restraints."
Roumatha: you're pretty sure whatever that creature is, it's not alive, most likely undead and if so sharing its secret might very well let it rest.
"Yes, lets us go to the surface than... lead on."
Your rescued prisoner is happy to follow you for now. There may be a bit more to explore down here and Zusgut and his Goblin troupe may not be too excited to see your guest.
"Yes.. wait... I'll wait... but please I needeth to be free. Free" The raspy voice is more like pleading at the end.
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MugVug sniffs in Marcon's direction one last time and shudders.
Let's be done with this then!
He heads off in the direction of the boat, taking care to ensure that it is still there and ready for a quick departure if Marcon decides to eat them after all. He stops for a moment and looks around and then notices the steps up to the north east.
He heads in that direction, ready in case more undead monstrosities jump out at him.
A few more rooms to the northeast. The larger one of them contains bits of saturated parchment, fragments of wood, and other detritus that float on the surface of the two‑foot‑deep water in the room.
Small niches are carved up and down the walls, each space only a few inches square but nearly a foot deep.
The niches to the north are mostly destroyed by the partial collapse of the surrounding wall, and a deep crack runs at an angle across it.
To the east, a statue of a hippocampus rears up and its eyes roll back as if in pain. A trident made of a corroded metal protrudes from a wound in its side. Behind the statue on the wall are carved the words “Ex Prothex.”
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MugVug wades into the room, pushing his way through the waist deep water.
He looks up at the statue and frowns, wondering what manner of beast that is, and how many goblins it might be able to eat.
You should eat halflings he says to nobody in particular, way more juicier than goblins I'll tell you that for sure. Ex Pro thex. He tests the words in his mouth but they are meaningless to him. He meanders around the room searching for more trinkets he can add to his collection.
MugVug finds an airtight bone scoll tube bobbing among the other detritus but nothing else of value.
Eventually opening it reveals a remarkable document. The deed to the playhouse and even some of the surrounding neighborhood. This document in and of itself does not grant rights to the property, but it could most likely be used to make a strong case for ownership for the goblins, given the lack of current owner.
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Oskar listens to MugVug's remarks and scowls. "Of course halflings are juicier than goblins - everyone knows that - but if you don't deliver that message with the proper intonation, meter, and diction, well you simply cannot expect to hold the attention of your audience! Don't worry though, I'll be happy to give you some oratory lessons. My fees are really very reasonable, when you consider how famous I'll be some day."
Oskar also spends some time carefully examining the room, particularly the deep crack, since the group has already seen how such things can open into other passages.
Not big enough for a creature, even one as small and as tasty as a halfling or goblin.
Nothing more to explore on this side at least.
Taking your new fried back across the water?
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MugVug takes the scroll tube and shows it to Oskar,
Forget king Zusgut Oskar, we should go into business together! We could create a theater never seen before! Imagine what it would be like! We could have dancing orc ladies, and centaurs...think of it...centaurs!!! Or I guess we could be good Pathfinders and do what's right I spose.
MugVug heads back down towards Marcon, looking wistfully at the boat as he passes by. As he once again enters the room where Marcon has been living all these many years he wrinkles his nose and grimaces. He takes the beret from his head and shakes it out and then removes the pendant from around his neck.
Put these on...maybe we can pass you off as one of those mercenary fellas who came after us...or maybe some lost artist who washed up from a sunken boat or something. Just keep your head down and don't make eye contact.
Your newfound friend nods and puts on the hat and pendant.
King Zusgut nods as you return.
"Well glorious returning heroes, tell us what glory you have brought to my Goblin kingdom. Those other knaves were seen fleeing some time ago."
He does not seem to have noticed the extra companion yet.
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When MugVug suggests a joint business venture, Oskar smiles broadly. "A capital idea, my friend, capital! Everyone knows that dancing centaurs do the Can-Can like no one can. Though keeping the stage clean is always an issue... But never mind, the staff will handle that! Of course I'll write all the lyrics and do all the choreography - all of Absalom will be beating down our doors for tickets! This is sure to be a smash! We'll just need you to advance the capital to get the ball rolling, as I'm afraid I find my own purse unseasonably light at the moment, but there's no reason why that should present a problem, especially when you are guaranteed 40% of the profits! Speaking of profits, I don't suppose you would be able to advance me a portion of my first month's share - you'll hardly notice it with the cash we'll be raking in - and I do have one or two creditors who would be so obliged..."
...
Oskar bows deeply to the King. "Your majesty, truly we owe you a debt of great gratitude for your trust in us, sending us in to the depths of your vast territory - only a sovereign as wise and as true as yourself could possibly have known how certainly we were the right ones for this task!"
"We are happy to report that we have cleansed your basement of many dangers, not least some foul brigands - those miserably incompetent actors you saw earlier - but also a foul infestation of giant insects and a monstrous beast."
"Most importantly, however, we have found the deed to your property, which it appears that some thief snatched away from you and then mislaid in the depths. Fortunately, with this restored to you, no one can possibly question your rulership over the playhouse and all it contains! I do hope that you will allow me to perform here. I've even begun composing an opera that is perfect for the acoustics here. If you'll allow me, I'll sing you the first aria...?"
With the mention of the deed and the possibility of gaining the rights of more than just squatters the cries of "You be heroes!" echo throughout the goblin play house.
In the chaos of celebration and Oskar's glorious song MugVug is able to slip Marcon out without any of Zusgut's goblin being the wiser.
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With that you're able to get a cloak on Marcon and bring him back to Drenge who intently listens to your story but stares in near wide-eyes disbelief at Macron.
Drenge speaks "I've heard rumors of ancient places beneath the city where living prisoners were entombed, but up until now I never had any direct evidence. Come with me Marcon, we'll find you a place to tell your story and I'll keep you safe until then... First come with me and answer a few questions, there's much you can tell us of the history of Absalom."
With the return of the deed you've performed an important service for the Crookedtoes. The goblins now have a route to legal ownership of the playhouse, and Zusgut is pleased with the outcome.
Oskar is soon called into service and spends a few interesting days learning all about how the tribe spends its time.
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Roumatha is relieved to be out in the sewers, and spends the next week in the great outdoors on the Isle of Kortos, helping travelers to avoid wild harpies and minotaurs.
By the next weekend, his energy has recharged enough for him to return to Absalom to seek his next assignment. He sets an evening aside to attend the performance of "The Ghoul of the Opera", and leaves utterly baffled by how much the dramatization differs from his own recollection of events. He makes a mental note to treat anything from the Pathfinder Chronicles with a big grain of salt.