GM Tyranius (PF2) Flooded Kings Court (Tier 1-4) (Inactive)

Game Master Tyranius

And with a flurry of slashing attacks and magic the pair of plague zombies are rapidly cut down into smaller bite-sized pieces.

After you get a chance to breathe a bit, you get to look around this gallery.

This wide gallery is lined with a colorful mural depicting a figure performing some sort of magical ritual over an expanse of ocean. His arms raised, he beckons to something beneath the waves, and is answered by a frothing, foaming section of the water that hints at a massive shape rising.

Stairs rise to another large room. An elegantly carved figure towers over the room, combining the body of an eel with the visage of a horrifying deep‑sea fish and four grasping tentacles.

Whoever had this section of the Tombs of the Living constructed spared no expense. Whether that is because of dedication to dark powers or a flair for the dramatic is difficult to tell.

Can I have rolls on Crafting, Lore Absalom, Religion, Society and Occultism please? Please feel free to roll these all openly if you have them while you examine this disturbing artwork.

For your individual tracking, I believe my Medicine rolls in the Discussion have each of you at full HP and removed your Wounded status.

Once Chulyin has finished applying poultices and wrapping bandages to his companions' wounds, including the wounded bird, he moves on to examine the room with the others.

"This is very interesting iconography," he comments.

A roll, each, if I read correctly:

Religion (T): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 26
Society (T): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17
Occultism (T): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21

Martin looked around at the mural. "That is really disturbing. What is it?" He wracked his brains for any thought of what that mural might depict, but really, it wasn't from the woods, so he had little chance of knowing.

recall knowledge, Crafting?: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14

Erevan helps Chulyin assess those who were wounded before heading off. Upon seeing the curious looking artwork he tries to recall what it might depict.

Crafting: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 8 = 11
Occultism: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (20) + 8 = 28
Society: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (8) + 8 = 16

Azu sees if anyone more skilled than himself can treat his wounds.

Crafting(U): 1d20 ⇒ 6

I healed you 10 points.

As you are glancing around this room, you find some things. Discarded or forgotten long ago, a pendant of the occult sits on the floor. Behind the statue are scattered offerings: a potion of water breathing, and a silver bowl decorated with a sea motif worth 7 gold pieces.

Looking over the mural Chulyin recognizes it as a depiction of Aroden raising the Starstone and the Isle of Kortos from the depths of the ocean. Though the depiction does not exactly match that famous event; the affected patch of ocean seems too small to be the island, and the figure’s left hand has barely visible webbing between the fingers.

Erevan investigates the statue further. It appears to be a depiction of Dagon, demon lord of the sea, sea monsters, and deformity.

"That is odd," Chulyin remarks. "I wonder if cultists of Dagon usurped a tomb decorated to honor Aroden or the other way around?"

He glances at Martin. "Martin! Come here. It seems you are bleeding through my bandage. Let me fix that." He removes the soiled bandage, careful to apply pressure to the wound as soon as he can slip his hand under, and then applies a new bandage. He makes sure to tie it especially tight.

He then rinses his hands in water from his wineskin.

Medicine (E) (DC 15 Treat Wounds): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (14) + 10 = 24 (I ought to take Assurance in Medicine now that I have Continual Recovery)
Excessive Healing: 2d8 ⇒ (4, 3) = 7

Once he has finished making notes about the room in his journal, he heads down the stairs.

"Let us see what is over this way," he heads to the northeast to shine light down the corridors (or into the alcoves).

Bits of saturated parchment, fragments of wood, and other detritus 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.”

When it was first constructed by the cult of Dagon, the room held holy scriptures and documents they wanted to protect. These documents have all been taken or destroyed over the centuries, and by the time criminals using the tombs located the room, it was empty. It then became a storehouse of assorted treasures and papers the criminals wanted to keep secret. For a time, it was even used to store valuable for clients as an alternative to the banks operated by Abadar’s clergy.

Bobbing in the water is an airtight bone scroll tube.

Society (T): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10

Chulyin wades into the water, probing with his staff and fishes out the floating scroll case.

Azu thanks the druid for the healing and then, weapons drawn (light pick) examines the statue.

Society(U): 1d20 ⇒ 7

Too late for the prior rolls?

Occultism (T): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8 well... no matter anyway.

Arfsnarf stares at the additional carved figurines in wonder.

This place sure have a fishy theme. It doesn't seem very Aroden'y to being with! he muses on Chulyin's notion.

If given the opportunity, he will Refocus

"Thanks, Chulyin. I guess I should have known better than to charge in like that. It just seemed too juicy a target to ignore. Still, I'll try and be more careful next time."

Hearing the goblin's words, Martin shrugged.

"Well, Arfsnarf, if this place is devoted to Dagon, I'm not surprised. Isn't he the god of the fishy and slimy things from the sea? What's in the scroll tube, Chulyin?d"

"Shall we see what's over this way?"

Martin indicated the doorway to the south.

Assuming no (probably fiendish) crocodile attacks as he reaches for the scroll case, he swiftly dries off the container on his sleeve and moves out of the water onto dry stone before carefully breaking the seal and opening the scroll. "It looks like..."

Nope, not too late, though you did get nearly all of the information from them.

The water only ripples from Chulyin's presence. No additional crocodiles found in this water. Grabbing ahold of the bone tube Chulyin makes it back to shore and cracks it open. Inside is a remarkable document: the deed to the playhouse and even some of the surrounding neighborhood!

"Property deeds, including one to the playhouse where the goblins reside," Chulyin answers as he follows Martin across the fractured landing. "I wonder if this could be used to strengthen King Gusgut's affection for our Society."

Society: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 1 = 17

"Not sure if this statue is meant to talk about the heroism of Absalom's defenders when wounded, but if not this seems like a symbol of the city being stabbed by a spooky trident, pretty basic sympathetic magic. Or just artistic symbolism.

"Would that deed still be valid? I'm sure Gusgut'll want it either way though."

Mal uncovers much of the same information, though looking over the mural and statue the artistry of both is of the highest quality and likely cost hundreds of gold each to construct.

Finally... Arfsnarf says softly. Goblins rightfully own places!

He looks at the deed with admiration and the feeling of potential for his ancestry in Absalom.

Chulyin rolls the deeds back into the tube, closes the cap, and hands it to Arfsnarf for safekeeping. "A little more to explore before the tide rises," he says.

Traveling further in the other direction, you find an oddity.

You move along this new hallway, finding some mysterious chambers that used to be walled off, but the walls have been broken by the recent flooding. The tides have washed away all evidence of what might have been here. You move on to the next hallway.

You make your way down a long, claustrophobic corridor and turn left. Ahead is another hallway, but you notice something different here. There's a span of the masonry that's different from the wall — a passageway here has been bricked over. There's a hole in the masonry, though, about the size of a goblin's head — just big enough for someone to peer through and see what's beyond.

Crumbled bricks and mortar lie scattered on the floor below the hole — whatever clawed or smashed open the brickwork must have done so recently, as the tides haven't had time to wash away the evidence.

You could look inside if you wish…

Chulyin steps up to the opening in the brick and holds his wayfinder near to cast light through to the other side while peering inside.

Braces for jump scare.

Martin grabbed Chulyin and pulled him back. "Look at the debris. Whatever smashed that stone and mortar out did it from the inside. Stick your face up to that hole, and it might do the same to you. If you must look, do it from a distance."

"As they teach us in our arcane lessons, the source must be close to the point of narrowing in order to maintain line of effect and sight," Chulyin says. "But your concern is appreciated."

"Yeah, I have no idea what that means, but when some giant zombie reaches through there and tears your face off, I hope it leaves at least one of your ears so you can hear me saying I told you so!"

The Sarkorian chuckles. "As do I."

Since the hole is the size of a goblin's head, I assume one does not need to put their face right up to the hole to see what the light reveals--that wouldn't work well anyhow--but I could be wrong.

Something inside sloshes around in the water — clearly startled. It sounds like something moving around on two legs. You hear a low, sepulchral voice whisper from the hole. The words drip slowly out of the opening, like blood seeping from a cold corpse.

“Whoooo… who… art… thou that I hear?” Water sloshes around. “Do thou… live? The… living? Come… to… me.” You can hear the creature approach the hole. “… Please… let… let me… see… thee… So long.... it has been..... soooooo long....”

Chulyin reaches toward the wreath of mistletoe at his belt as he cautiously answers, "I am Chulyin. We are Pathfinders. How long have you been down here?"

Arfsnarf walks up closer behind Chulyin, curious about what is seen through the hole.

What is it? Some sorta depraved goblin?

As Chulyin and Arfsnarf peeked through the hole they catch a glimpse of a vaguely humanoid form sloshing around in there. The words Candren's Wish have been scratched deeply into the stone, over and over again.

Slosh. Slosh. "Soooo long. Soooo long. Alone, forgotten. Alone, no one to talk to. Please... talk to me, living things. Thou art... living, yes?" Slosh. Slosh. "We can... talk. Share questions. People... still talk? Still converse? So long ago."

The goblin scratches his head.

And you not living?

He whispers to the team, away from the hole.

I think it be a ghoul or something.

"Will the wall hold? Can't trust many deaders to keep conversations civil."

Erevan's curiosity gets the better of him and he moves to where Arfsnarf and Chulyin are. He also tries to get a peek at where the sound is coming from and tries to examine the words in stone.

"Candren's Wish? What does that mean?"

@Mal- You can roll a crafting check to determine some information on the wall.

“I…I am…was called Marcon Tinol. I didst not choose this dank and closed residence. T'was meant to be my prison and my tomb. Candren t'was successful in that, it seems.”

The voice is gloomy, and the body sloshes around a bit. “I was…'prisoned here, chained and bricked up behind that same wall. I…slept…died? I woke then and broke the chains. Searched for escape, but there was none. So slept again I did ‘til the ground shook. Since then I have drifted…and chipped. A crack, I noticed after the shaking. This hole is all I have…created.” The voice is mournful. "T'wouldst not have been the legacy I wouldst have chosen for myself, milady. Thou art a living lady, correct? I had a daughter once. So long. So long down here."

"As to what I am... What is anyone? Does goblin define you? Does Elf? Nay, they are but part of who you are. I know I am... not living. No, I am not living. I was once a man... an accountant. A person who asked questions. How I loved to converse."

"Who was this Candren person? And why did they imprison you this way?"

Turning to the others, he said, "This guy may not have chosen to be undead, but you've seen what kind of damage they can do to the living. I'm not sure letting him out of here is a good idea. But, if he gives us some information, we can take it back to the Society, do a little research, and let the senior officers make the decision on what to do with him."

"Can we help your soul to find rest? A message to relay or a task to complete?" Chulyin asks. His hand still gripping onto the wreath of leaves at his belt.

Give me a religion check

Religion (T): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (17) + 8 = 25

"A fair question," Marcon pauses, considering Martin's questions. “'Tis true that… I hunger. I control that… hunger… for now. Discipline I have learned… yes, discipline. Hunger is as nothing unto me now. Its claws have lost their grip… This I swear: no harm to the bodies of the living will I bring…So long as I see justice done. Then…peace. Forever.”

"Why was I imprisoned, Sir?" Marcon responds. "My crime? T'was no true crime. My crime was asking questions, reviewing books, finding a discrepancy. My crime? Curiosity, and caring about--" He breaks off abruptly, sloshing around, agitated. "My secret, that is…to keep…it burns in my mind, a secret to bargain with. I know much. And greatly does a family in Absalom fear my secret. Prithee, I beg you to free me. Guide me to the surface and I will share my secret. Perhaps then I will know peace…”

Although Marcon did not answer directly about Candren, You can tell two things. The first is that Marcon's speech is over 500 years old. The second is that Chulyin understands the undead's information could be quite damaging to one person in particular: Goodman Hugen of House Candren, a member of the Grand Council of Absalom and First Harbormaster.

Chulyin believes that allowing Marcon to the surface to share his secret may allow his spirit to pass on to the Boneyard peacefully.

The water level slowly begins to rise as time is nearly up. What do you wish to do?

Candren is Montresor, and this one Fortunato. Sounds slightly familiar.

Sounds like you found somebody "mistake" that was no mistake. I can't wait to see how uppity nobleman deal with this!

The goblin looks around at the rest of the group, enthusiastically suggesting his desired course of action.

We must bring this ghouly to the top. The gossip, errr.... I mean the truth will set him free!

Crafting: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11

Mal remains suspicious, "I guess we should bring it up to the surface if that'll let him pass on to the Boneyard, but eyes up, okay?"

"We must take precaution if we are to free you and bring you to the surface," Chulyin says. "I wish to help you find peace after these many years, but we cannot risk the people who live above. Does anyone have a pair of manacles?"

Mal listens to Marcon's tale. It certainly seems as if he is telling the truth and not trying to deceive you in any way.

Sounds like you want to free Marcon. What is your plan to get him to the surface and through town?

"We do still need to get you free," Chulyin says. "We will need to disguise you to avoid a panic. We found this hat of disguise, which seem to be common in sewers."

"I'm really not happy with this plan, but if all of you are behind it, then I will do what I can to support."

"So, what do we need to do?"

What's not to be happy about?! Polite ghouly is going to spill beans of noble! It will be Arfsnarf promises hilarious!

Arfsnarf is ready for a little harmless chaos.

"I share your concern, but he seems more like a revenant," he says. "And once he has accomplished his task, his soul should find rest."

Looks like we have 2 for freeing Marcon and 1 against it. Mal, Erevan, Azu what do you wish to do? Free Marcon or leave him be? Will go with majority vote.

Azu speaks up as it seems there is a vote being taken. "If the creature swears no harm to the living, then I say we release him to find his peace, lest he break that oath."

"Release seems like an unnecessary flourish. Will you let us bind you in some way for your journey up?"

Fine to bring it to the surface to put it to rest, but wants **some** kind of assurance against escape/mayhem