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While Voices is still struggling to direct his horse while marveling at the illusion, Squirrel stands up on his shoulder and waves.
Hello, it's me! I can't understand exactly what you just said, but we're just here looking for some lost friends. No harm, no danger. I love your hair by the way! I just want to run my paws through and scruff it up.
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"Huh...well ain't that just the darndest thing?" Reggie says as they finally get through the wall that isn't a wall. "Seems like we're headed in the right direction, anyway."
"Yup. Definitely, the right direction," he repeats when they get to the city made of brass. "I can see why these folks would want to hid this."
He waits patiently and hopefully for the negotiations to continue. It isn't as though the 6 of them could lay siege to this place and he doesn't understand what the guards are saying.
The guards reply in Common with obvious reluctance.
"You are given permission to enter. Secure lodgings in Crystalcrag, respect its curfew, and avoid causing trouble."
Once everyone has acknowledged the instructions (whether they intend to obey or not), the guards open the gates to admit the visitors.
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The Pathfinders draw a lot of curiosity from the populace, predominantly oreads. They respectfully yet shyly observe the Pathfinders as they enter the town. As word spreads of the Pathfinders’ arrival, an aging oread with hair-thin cracks spiderwebbing his skin, approaches and introduces himself as Eurdan Stonemantle, the remaining councilor of
Crystalcrag. He welcomes them in Common spoken with a strong accent and insistently invites them to meet with him in a - he pauses and looks around suspiciously as he says these last words - "a more private venue."
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Reggie is fascinated by the city, but also by its inhabitants. It seemed they were all descended from some type of genie.
While it must be nice to have that kind of community, he had to wonder at the ability to get so many members of such rare ancestries together.
He did not have to wonder why they used their amazing powers to stay hidden.
Eurdan leads them to a building whose exterior bears a weathered inscription in Terran.
Inside, he explains in broad strokes how the Pathfinders were not the first foreigners to reach Crystalcrag and describes the missing Pathfinders and their strange compass badges (in fact, the wayfinders carried by most Pathfinders). He also knows the missing Pathfinders are the guests—almost certainly the prisoners—of Crystalcrag’s ruler, Tygora.
The first Pathfinders’ arrival had been a minor rallying point for the oreads, but Eurdan’s fellow councilor Koriath disappeared without a trace soon after the visitors’ abduction; Eurdan suspects Tygora has all of them imprisoned. He’s also very candid about the palace’s strong defenses, implying but not admitting that the Pathfinders would need an army to besiege it and reach their friends.
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Squirrel replies, Oh 'besieging' is not what we are here to do. I'm sure we can reach some sort of accommodation. We just need to find some common ground of communication. What can you tell us about the Tygora and his reasoning for taking those he has imprisoned? Do you know anything about the castle and those who inhabit it? Is there something they want that could give us bargaining power?
Voices is staring out the window, Ssself like mountainsss.
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"That's what he's sayin'. But, we're gonna have to be smart 'bout the bustin'. There's less'n a dozen of us and a whole messa' them. I don't reckon we got much chance of just bargin' in and swingin' swords," Reggie chimes in.
"May just be a matter a' talkin' things out with Tygora."
He turns to Eurdan. "You said somethin' 'bout rallyin'. Why'd you need rallyin' in the first place?"
"You can try talking with Tygora, but she's not the talking type, unless you're willing to back up your words with a little muscle.
Assaulting Fury’s Hold, the efreeti queen Tygora’s palace, without aid would be impossible. You don't have to rally support, but there are a lot of unhappy oreads that would love to help you out ..."
He describes three places that he knows may be sympathetic to the Pathfinders' views.
"There's the Fifth Facet tavern, a place where troublemakers usually gather. There's also an armory that supplies weapons to Tygora's forces, and also an alchemy shop that gets shaken down by the ifrit guards."
A year ago, one of the members of the three-person council — a symbolic but ultimately powerless group of leaders — simply disappeared after trying to win concessions for the other oreads. Its second member, Glaheri, disappeared soon after the first group of Pathfinders arrived and stirred up trouble. Eurdan is the last councilor remaining, and securing the release of the other councilmembers would go a long way in getting his full support.
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Reggie had chosen his faction in the Society for a reason, likely the same reason Khugron had. The idea of helping people throw off the shackles of tyranny thrilled his soul.
"Sometimes 'troublemakers' is just the name they give to folks who ain't interested in lettin' other folks step on 'em. And the alchemy shop makes sense, but why would the armory that supplies weapons be willin' to the queen help us take her down?"
Are there any symbolsss or such the Oreadsss will rally behind? What about some kind of signal to kick off the assault on the palace.?
"Not so fast, there, the hard part is getting their support."
why would the armory that supplies weapons be willin' to the queen help us take her down?
"The smith is a captured slag giant. Seems nice enough, keeps to himself, but he ain't never been a fan of Tygora's."
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"This's real interestin' town you got here," Reggie says when the race of the smith is revealed. "I don't like the idea of nothin' 'captured' if it can make its own decisions, but we gotta figure out the best way to go 'bout this."
He looks around at the other Pathfinders. "My vote's to head for the armory and see if we can get this fella's help and help him, too. But if'n y'all wanna go to the tavern or alchemy shop first, I s'pose freein' a captive man can wait."
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Squirrel says, Oh a captive giant, forced to work making weapons for his captor, that is so dramatic. Of course we have to help him. Serving someone because you want to is a noble choice. That's what I do. But only by choice. An enslaved captive is just wrong! What is the poor fellow's name? Anything else you can tell us about him?
Smoke rises from a massive chimney in this open-sided smithy, whose ceiling rises at least twenty feet above the ground at its lowest point. A fenced yard hosts a multitude of swords, shields, breastplates, and helms—some are propped up on stands and others lying incomplete in piles. The cadence of steel on steel rings out from the shop.
A slag giant is busy at work at the forge, but turns to the group as they enter.
"Can I help you?"
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Reggie looks around at the wares, but also for other patrons. He's not great at the subterfuge, but even he knows that you don't plot an insurrection or a slave revolt or escape when there are witnesses around.
When they get some privacy, he answers the giant. "We were hoping we might be able to help each other."
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Voices is looking at any hammer/club like weapons while Squirrel speaks to the giant.
My goodness you are big! That must really help to make metal into the shapes you want. Do you like it here? Do you like what you do? Have you ever tried to make a really pretty chandelier with crystals? ... blather-blather ... We've heard you may not like working for the boss in the castle. We would like to help you. Cause helping you could help us. Some of our friends are stuck in there and we want them to come home. Want to work together?
"We were hoping we might be able to help each other."
Valsog eyes Reggie's nice armor. "How so?"
Mavaro also browses the wares, also trying to look like an interested customer.
Valsog looks with some amusement as Mavaro browses the wares. "You're not going to find anything as nice as that sword in here," he chuckles.
You see, we are here to help some friends and fellow Pathfinders who, well, they were taken. We aim to get them back. But to do this we need to find support among the locals and when we heard of your plight we thought you too could use help.
Valsog looks at the weakly armored shaman and asks dismissively, "Oh? What plight? I've got access to the best materials in the world, and I get to craft what I want."
”And we could smash things in the process!”
Valsog reaches over and picks up Reckum's earthbreaker without permission.
"Now, smashing things ... that is what fine weapons are used for," he nods appreciatively.
Some of our friends are stuck in there and we want them to come home. Want to work together?
Valsog detects as magical himself.
Valsog doesn't seem very impressed by a talking squirrel, but Voices' armor definitely impresses him.
"What would you have me do? I just supply weapons, I'm not a fighter."
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Voices is feeling mellow and lays on the ground staring up at the clouds
Everyone can always help somehow. Fighting isn't the only thing. For instance, you would know what kinds of things you had made for the people inside. And maybe you could make something to help knock down the gate. Or whatever, I don't know... But first we need to know who all is willing to help. Then we can make actual plans for the people we have.
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When it comes to planning coups, Reggie is just paranoid enough to know when to stop talking. Or maybe just a little too paranoid.
In either case, when it becomes evident that Valsog isn't interested in revolution, Reggie clams up...mostly.
"Know a fella named Eurdan?" he asks.
"How do you feel about Tygora? Eurdan mentioned you might not be too happy with her."
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"Now, smashing things ... that is what fine weapons are used for," he nods appreciatively.
Reckum immediately perks up, doing his best not to show his impatience to get his hammer back while also trying to keep a polite face that’s also friendly. The end result looks like someone drew a smile on a piece of parchment, stretched it to twice its original length, and then plastered it to someone’s face. ”Yes, smashing is... good, very good. Do you ever want to smash something?” The gnome tries to keep his gaze on the giant, but his eyes keep drifting towards his wallop-mallet.
"I think you happy right here, getting to work your magic with metal."
"Yes, I'm happy right here."
”Do you ever want to smash something?”
"Not really. I take out my aggression beating metal."
"Wouldn't it be nice to make weapons for who you want to?"
"How do you feel about Tygora?"
"I'm a smith. I don't really care who uses my weapons. But recently Tygora has a lot of requests, and not very much good material. I'd rather make high quality weapons for people who appreciate them."
Everyone can always help somehow. Fighting isn't the only thing. For instance, you would know what kinds of things you had made for the people inside. And maybe you could make something to help knock down the gate. Or whatever, I don't know... But first we need to know who all is willing to help.
"I'm not a fighter. I'm not going to join in anything. But I'm willing to help by not making any more weapons for Tygora."
The Fifth Facet is a square, two-story, stone tavern that sits on the main roadway of Crystalcrag. The smell of charred timber and cooked food waft gently out of multiple windows hewn into the building’s facade.
The oread barkeep waves them over.
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Both Reggie and Rowdy's mouths begin to water when they smell the cooking food.
"Well, I don't know if this place's gonna be any better'n the last one, 'cause, I gotta say, Valsog's gotta be the least enthused revolutionary I ever did see, but at least we can catch a good meal here," Reggie says quietly while they're approaching.
He looks hopefully at the other members of the team as the bartender says something in a language he can't hope to understand.