Winning the Hao Jin Tapestry at the Ruby Phoenix Tournament was supposed to grant the Pathfinder Society exclusive access to a museum demiplane where the Tian sorceress Hao Jin stored her most valuable and dangerous acquisitions. At first, the Pathfinder Society believed that the five-by-seven foot tapestry was the only entrance into a demiplane filled with countless ruins drawn from numerous cultures and regions of the world that would be theirs alone to explore. But they soon discovered evidence to the contrary.
The Decemvirate knows now that Aspis Consortium agents have found or forced their way into the allegedly secure demiplane, and they know where the interlopers’ base is. A tribe of lizardfolk native to the plane—called the Muckmouth tribe—are being coerced into serving as guides, porters, and laborers in the Aspis’s plundering, not for any love of Consortium, but because the Consortium is holding a generation of the tribe’s eggs hostage.
The Decemvirate is not interested in sharing its new prize with the Aspis Consortium, and wishes to drive it out and discover how the organization gained access to Hao Jin’s demiplane. The only lead so far is the Aspis base in the lizardfolk tribe’s ancestral breeding grounds within a cave called the Muckmouth, from which the tribe derives its name. Were agents able to infiltrate the caves and dispatch the Aspis agents there, perhaps the lizardfolk would even provide assistance to the Society in its efforts to explore the new realm. Regardless of this possibility, the primary goal is investigating how the Aspis Consortium gained access to the demiplane and determining the extent of their operations here.
Previously obtained details provide a trail through the wide, unmapped marshland from the Society’s point of entry into the demiplane to the Muckmouth, which now lies two hundred yards to the north—a twenty-foot wide cave mired with mud and swamp water. Inside are the Muckmouth tribe’s eggs and the Aspis agents holding them hostage—the only lead to a greater plot from the Society’s greatest rival.
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Thick sticky mud and waterlogged pathways do not suit a heavily armoured diminutive dwarf of limited strength and severely frayed temper. By the time the party reaches the Muckmouth, Shardra is exceedingly grumpy, and spoiling for trouble.
"Lovely?" She spits. "Filthy. Infested. disease-ridden. These are better words."
All the more reason the get this over with quickly. I'm not a fan of swamps. Too many creepy crawlies that want to munch on you...and the bugs!
Making their way through the muck and the mire, the pathfinders follow the directions they were given by the lizardfolk back at the Dog Pharaoh's tomb. Eventually, they find the entrance to the Muckmouth.
A wall constructed of logs lashed together with rope and vines and further strengthened with mud blocks off the cavern entrance. A number of the logs at its center serve as a rudimentary gate, and are attached to a post by several layers of rope that act as hinges.
Shardra hears only the insects and frogs singing out their eternal song of love (or at least lust) in the swamp but nothing from within the caves.
She DOES, however notice through the gaps in the gate that there is a turtle shell suspended from a hook about 5' beyond the gate. It is attached to a rope attached to the gate. Any severe disruption of the gate will surely make it fall.
See anything there, Shardra? I can cut through the date in a moment if it's clear.
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Shardra's hand pauses halfway to her mouth. She had been just about to chew on a succulent Quadiran date to top up her energy levels. The fighter's odd threat to cut through it in a moment leaves her confused.
She shrugs. "Mage." She gestures the elf towards the gaps in the logs, and points out the suspended turtle shell. "Alarmed. Disable with Mage Hand ?"
She steps back, content her exhaustive description of the problem was more than sufficient. She watches Valeros suspiciously as she eats her snack.
Mylvwara approaches and sees that the problem is a bit too complex to deal with with Mage Hand.
But, the way it is tied, someone could unfasten the rope and lower the shell carefully if they had the right skills.
Diazepane is able to easily lower the shell to the ground. It rattles and jingles faintly and it is obvious that if it fell it would have been exceptionally loud.
The alchemist is then able to easily undo the knot holding the gate closed and the Pathfinders are officially inside the Muckmouth.
They go only a few steps before they hear two individuals speaking in Draconic. It doesn't take long listening to realize it is the bored, depressed chatter of two guards who aren't too thrilled about their duty or the people that they're doing the duty for.
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Diazepane will drink an extract of alchemical allocation, and then swish a potion of invisibility around in his mouth before spitting it back into the vial.
He walks to where he can see them, and then speaks (softly) to them in Draconic.
"We're here to help your clan and your eggs. If you play along, we'll deal with the snake-insignias and you can be free."
If they look amenable, Diazepane will continue.
"I'm invisible, but I'm just outside the room. I'm a smooth-skin - my name is Diazepane. I'll come in and unhide myself if you promise not to sound the alarm."
If they look mad, Diazepane will say, "We disabled the alarm on the front gate. We could have announced our presence with a knife to the back, but that's not our way."
The two lizardfolk Diazepane sees, go stiff and their gazes dart around as they try to spot the source of the voice talking to them. They each reach for weapons but don't stand up as he speaks.
"We are listening," one of them says, casting a glance deeper into the caverns as though to determine if anyone else is listening.
Valeros waits to see if Diazepane's mission is successful.
The two lizardfolk scowl at the new smooth scales, or in his general, invisible direction, their grips tightening on their weapons.
The feathery fellow seems likeable enough but is chattering away in some incomprehensible language.
Look we freed the others from that other egg stealer. You can ask them when you go...trust us...if we were here to do you harm, you would be dead right now...could you translate that, Diazepane, please?
The two lizardfolk confer briefly.
"Of course, and these smooth scales may be just as bad as the others. Or worse even."
"Then it's agreed?"
"Agreed."
Then they both hiss and swell, grabbing their weapons.
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Mylvwara looks at Valeros, "Well, go on then." and then casts magic missile at the red-tinged serpentfolk.
Mylvwara flings some magic at one of the lizardfolk while two of the pathfinders remain concealed and move into position.
Valeros charges into the fray and tries not to hurt their opponents. He succeeds a little too well.
They don't seem to feel the same compulsion in return.
One of them lands 2 solid hits.
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Diazepane steps to give Ichio a flank, and unleashes a flurry of bombs (this breaks invisibility). First goes to Red; Precise Bombs will exclude Ichio and Valeros, and Splash Weapon Mastery extends the splash to Blue.
vs FF, T
plus DC 22 vs staggered
Second goes to Blue; Precise Bombs will exclude Valeros, and Splash Weapon Mastery extends the splash to Red.
vs FF, T
plus DC 22 vs staggered
In Draconic: "It's not too late, we will accept your surrender at any time."
Don't try my patience...you won't like it. the warrior says as he foregoes trying to spare the lizard,
He then shifts over a pace.
Between the frost from the bombs, Goran's renewed (and lethal assault) and Ichio's well placed strike, the redgarbed lizardfolk is knocked unconscious but not bleeding out.
The blue one also takes a couple of solid chilly hits.
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"Swamps? Seems like the right pace for an Aspis camp. I hope that it smells better than the last one..."
Slipping into the chamber and squeezing through the narrow passage, Kal brings the long blade to bare on the blue draped lizardfolk. At the last moment, he flips the blade, attempting to strike the creature with the flat end of the weapon.
Kal'Ryon lands a solid, but non-cutting hit on the remaining sentry but is unable to take him down.
He seems too enraged to listen to Mylvwara's pleas for peace.
Shardra shows her confidence in her team.
The lizardfolk strikes back, targeting Goran, again.
It scores a single, not too rough hit.
You son of a newt! I'll make a pair of boots out of your hide! he says as he swings in anger at the lizard
Goran is able to down the remaining sentry with his righteous indignation (and swords.)
Thanks to the Pathfinders care, neither of them are in danger of dying, but they will be unconscious for a while.
Ahead, the floor dips and water rises, though not deep enough to hinder movement. It branches here, offering them two directions to go.
Hey...anyone have a spare curative spell on them? I think that one smack with the club popped a rib...maybe two...