Most of you have no idea what sort of creature this thing is, while Pawero is certain that it's some manner of undead or beast bred for war. At the moment though, it doesn't seem very intimidating as it happily begins to tear into the pile of food and rations in front of it with gusto.
Oh. Oh wait. You notice that as it eats, there seems to be a sizzling sound. A drop or two of spittle fall to the floor of the hold, dissolving the wood where they land.
Maybe it's a little dangerous, after all. But for now, it seems content to enjoy the food and leave you in peace.
While Pawero ponders what should be done with the beast - a task that Eando Kline left solely to the discretion of the group - Bubba gives the hold a good once-over.
Among the crates and other objects, the halfling finds the ship's shipping manifest which explicitly details and confirms the creature's Nexian origins. He also notices a strange symbol on the remnants of the broken crate that Pawero, Swayaah, and Maldlethu all recognize as being the insignia of the Fleshforges. The rest of the remaining crates all seem to hold nothing but furniture.
With nothing else of immediate interest in the main hold, Bubba moves to the forward door and gives it a look. Not detecting anything worrisome, he carefully eases it open. In stark contrast to the rest of the ship, this cabin has been somewhat cleared of algae and cleaned. Six simple beds, complete with fresh linens, are crammed into the space. A few small footlockers are shoved under some of the beds but further inspection reveals them to hold nothing but simple clothing and personal effects.
However, Bubba does find what look to be two talismans rolled up in a smelly, salt-crusted rag. Ezren and Maldlethu confirm that the talismans radiate a magical aura.
Ezren studies the magical talisman closely...though if you pay close attention, you can see his eyes drooping slightly as he slowly inhales and exhales...
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"I am not certain that bringing this creature back to the mainland is the right course of action," he says. "It is clearly dangerous. If it got loose in transporting it, we would be responsible for whatever damage or harm it caused. Imagine if a child was killed?" The consideration is laid out with his usual flat affect, but there is a tremor in his voice that hints at strong emotion as he comes to the last sentence.
While Pawero continues to question the wisdom of bringing a potentially dangerous creature back to shore - or even just leaving it here to roam loose, Bubba heads back to the aft of the ship to investigate the remaining door. He's positive that there's nothing concerning about the door and cautiously eases it open.
This cabin’s floor has been cleared of the algae present everywhere else on the ship, and a simple table has been set up in the center of the room, with a few chairs pulled up around it. The aft wall bears a large carving of a coat of arms, visible even despite the wear of the elements. An antique lantern hangs above the carving, casting a faint light over papers strewn over the table.
Though not relevant to your specific mission, you all find some things of additional interest here! Swayaah, Bubba, and Jirelle discover a couple of things among the documents laid out on the table. The first is a bundle of writs of inspection approving the cargo crates for export from the Nexian capital of Quantium. The other is a series of financial records, including notes of sizable sums paid to the same individual whose name appears on the writs - a clear indication of bribery.
Meanwhile, Pawero, Swayaah, Jirelle, and Maldlethu also find that they recognize the coat of arms on the wall as the insignia of the Taldan navy.
Other than those things, there doesn't seem to be anything else of interest here and you're certain that you've now explored everything you can of the wrecked ship. All that remains is to decide what to do with the creature you've found...
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Swayaah finally notices something from Pawero - concern? "Certainly all of us can escort-" She pauses and looks back to the fleshforge. "I'll call ya Slippy, okay?" She adds another ration. "Slippy back to the Grand Lodge. Not its fault someone from Nex made it and abandoned it." She crosses her arms and sees her mother trying to understand the subtext.
"It wasn't born lucky. I'm not going to discard it."
Ezren shoots the elf a glare, "What gives you the right to be this creature's judge here? This creature has done no harm, so far and I see no reason not to return it to the Lodge now! Mind you should the creature prove hostile, then I will agree with your decision Pawero."
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”Why are you angry with me?” he asks Ezren in his usual monotone, which is likely infuriating to some in moments like these. ”I have neither judged nor rendered a decision nor acted. I have asked a question and raised a concern. These are necessary to achieving understanding. I would have expected an arcanist to understand that. However, I would point out that smuggling a carnivorous, necromantic construct into the city is likely illegal, and counter that we have no more authority to endanger the citizens of Absalom during such an endeavor than I would have to render judgement, were I yet to render judgement.”
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Jirelle looks over the bills of lading and manifests to figure out who Slippy was supposed to be delivered to.
"I don't think we're smuggling him in if we just lead him to the Grand Lodge. Heck, the Scrolls might even be able to communicate with him. Seems to me he's either salvage or a maritime rescue, dependin' on how you classify a free golem."
"What? Salvagin' and rescue rules are pretty darn important things to know at sea," she says a little defensively to the looks she receives for using such uncharacteristically big words.
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"It is a marvelous magical creation! To destroy it without cause would be a senseless loss of knowledge, expertise, and proof of what can be accomplished." Maldlethu speaks loudly, arms spread wide. After a few seconds, the arms return to his side and his voice softens. "And for all your claims of it being clearly dangerous, the same could be said for any of us. It has not indulged in any hostile actions against us and only wants food."
From what she remembers and what she can observe of Slippy, Jirelle suspects that the easiest route to take - for now - would be to claim the creature as 'salvage', given that it's easier to prove that Slippy is a constructed object rather than an intelligent, feeling individual. It isn't ideal, but it should work if anyone has any questions. And in the meantime, perhaps researchers at the Grand Lodge can piece enough together to make a case for Slippy being considered a person in the eyes of the law.
With the majority of the group in agreement, you opt to coax Slippy into returning with you to shore. Luckily this isn't difficult to accomplish, as he now seems to trust you and is content to trail along after you like a puppy or small child. After doing what you can to disguise some of his more unusual features, you're able to safely deliver him to the Grand Lodge where you're assured he'll be taken good care of.
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"Hey ma, overcoat." Swayaah holds out her hand and her mother complies, pulling out a comically large overcoat. Fits Slippy like a glove. A wet, slimy acidic glove, but it's good enough.
Maritime law provides the perfect legal cover, which is a nice bonus. "Come on, Slippy. We got lots of friends and lots of food waiting for ya. Just be nice, okay?"
Salera remains quiet, pondering Swayaah's words. You weren't born lucky, Swayaah? Your father blessed you, I would disagree. She looks at her own hands, keeps the claws in check and grumbles.
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"Heh, I've been told I can get kinda crabby when I'm hangry too." He smashes the butt of his great club down on a particularly barnacle covered crab that got too close. "But I think Jed liked bein' a bit too dramatic, at least that's what I told him when he came to."
"Come on Slippy, maybe we can have a couple rounds of arm wrestlin' and a sandwich?"
Given the time of day when you arrive back at the Grand Lodge you opt to take a short breather and, for those hungry, grab some brunch before heading back out to the Westgate District. Bubba even manages to get some quality time in with Slippy, bonding over a shared love of sandwiches as well as some friendly games of arm wrestling...though it takes a couple of tries before Slippy seems to realize that he needs to use his not-tentacled hand!
A short time later you head back out towards the Westgate District, Fola Barun's anti-paralysis salve in hand. You know that Westgate is a mostly middle-class residential district, populated by merchants, shopkeepers, and up-and-coming citizens who can't afford more luxurious accommodations in the Petal or Ivy Districts. Some of the oldest families with lineages stretching back thousands of years still call the district home. The area is also thought of by some residents as the model of Absalom's traditions.
For several blocks, the quiet lanes of Westgate's residential neighborhoods feature small houses, low-key cafes and taverns, and the occasional specialty shop. The fragrant scent of tended flower gardens in the warm sunlight blends with the low hum of distant conversation over what would normally be a pleasant boulevard.
Yet it's anything *but* pleasant, once you really begin looking around. As you walk along, you keep seeing occasional evidence of Absalom's justice system: statues of ordinary looking people, mouths open mid-scream, hands flung up futilely in an effort to protect themselves. There are also a lot of grumpy-looking pedestrians out and about. One woman mutters, "Disgraceful. I cannot believe even they would stoop so low. They have no respect for tradition!"
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More money means more places to hide secrets. Swayaah wonders what the people were thinking in their final moments before they became statues. Fear? Excitement? Shame? Anger? Too bad she only has 1 dose.
Salera looks and grins as she sees the flowers. "I wonder how many ... adventures that house has seen?" She looks at one of the intergenerational homes. "One of my earliest duties involved digging around as a maid." Swayaah turns, exasperated. "Oh, I enjoyed the job. Everyone had something to tell me."
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Jirelle pokes her head into the first book shop the group passes. "Go on, I'll catch up," she calls to anyone looking back for her.
She takes in the scent of the shop and lets it linger in her nose. As much as she loves books, they were few and far between on a ship. Maybe it's as simple as that, that their rarity in that life makes them so valuable and treasured. Or maybe it's from her time growing up ashore when her mom would read to her.
Heh, now I've got this image in my head of little Swayaah sitting in Salera's lap being read to. Hehehe...
She finally rouses herself from her musings on family book-time and the damage that sea water does to bindings to approach the clerk.
"So, I could really use something fun but interesting. Like a mystery novel, or an adventure pulp," she opens with. As the clerk shows her some light fiction (and some Pathfinder Chronicles, cause those must be fiction, too, he notes), she also plies him for the latest gossip and info.
Ezren, left by himself once again, can only gaze at the statues of the victims of the city's justice system poring over in his mind how justice was being served here.
None of these poor souls have the chance to repent...though they have all the time to contemplate their crimes I suppose...
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The group takes their time asking around the area for more information on the district's happenings, except of course for Pawero and Swayaah, who are accustomed to using quicker and more direct methods for picking up rumors.
While Pawero isn't able to learn anything useful, Swayaah, Jirelle, and Bubba all hear, from different sources, that word has somehow gotten around that someone seeks to interfere with the justice system and release one of the unfortunates serving as district decor. A crowd opposed to this has gathered in the nearby square. Strangely enough, the rumors suggest that there are five people in particular riling up the crowd – a snooty-faced barrister, a raging drunkard, a silver-tongued charlatan, a budding socialite, and an eccentric herbalist.
With some trepidation, you make your way over to the nearby square to see what's going on, the number of statues that you pass only increasing as you walk along. Upon your arrival at the quaint, statue-filled square you see that it is also filled with people; several dozen townsfolk shout and argue, their voices somehow out of place among the silent statues.
Atop a raised platform around a fountain in the middle of the square, the five leaders of the mob shout and gesture, each in their own way. A sour-faced fellow in black robes with a white collar cries out, "This is unlawful, what they propose to do! The Pathfinder was subject to proper legal proceedings – or at least proceedings that were legal at the time she was subject to them!"
the crowd roars in agreement.
A lanky fellow holding a large earthenware jug, a hat planted precariously on his head, wobbles a bit on his feet and shouts with great energy, "Yeah! What they shaid! Shmash th’ legal prosheedings!"
"We're not going to just let outsiders subvert justice and ruin our beautiful statues!" cries a young, sophisticated-looking woman.
"Yes, well said," agrees an older gentlemen, wearing a stained apron and a pair of gardening gloves. "These statues are not just pleasing to eye but they provide all manner of places for things to nestle and grow!"
Another man with slicked-back hair offers a sly smile. "And think of how profitable it is - or was, ladies and gentlemen. I see some of you here who ran taverns. Friends who sold race shirts and official gear. Friends who sold onion pies. You want to sell again, don't you?"
Way over in the southwestern corner of the square, near one of the buildings, you spot a statue that fits the description you were given of the petrified Pathfinder. But it looks like you'll need to try and deal with the crowd before you can see about setting her free...
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"When we find a sticky thicket in our path, sometimes we need to take the route less walked to bring the pies home to granny," Pawero says. He flat affect rings somewhat comedic with his use of cant as he conveys that sometimes when the laws change it creates an opportunity for profit in a new way. "Others may want a hand greasing the wheel of the great machine, and fingers are not cheap."
As the fire stokers and crowd shout on, he moves to a new position and tries a different tactic with the socialite. "Think how this came to be," he says. "A wealthy organization required quite some time and effort to secure the release of a single individual. This is not something that will happen often if ever again. The monsters have no one to advocate for them. The short lived criminals have bern forgotten by their descendants, if they had any. No. Your lawn art is safe. However, a brawling mob in the street is sure to ruin your gardens and homes."
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“Yes!” Maldlethu cries eagerly, long thin arms spread wide. “Let the plants grow on the petrified bodies of the imprisoned! Let their roots find cracks and sink deep into their stony flesh! Perhaps they will absorb not only the minerals, but also the intelligence and will of their hosts! Let them come to life, hungry for more!”
“And let us reflect on the fact that the laws of man are as the laws of magic - ceaseless and ever-changing by our continued efforts to improve them! Even our mistakes can be lessons to learn from! Let those who have never sinned step forward, and let the rest of us be turned to stone for our crimes, never to know forgiveness!”
Ezren stalks towards the barrister a set look on his face. "So you believe justice has been served here? Why don't you try being petrified for a few hundred years and see if you still believe in justice. Chances are you won't feel the same way I'll bet. To me this sounds of retribution than justice...but there is a chance to rectify this...show mercy, in addition to justice!"
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Jirelle catches up to the group, two books in her bag. One is indeed some light reading, a Pathfinder Chronicle with several reports from the Shackles. She's curious to see how accurate the nautical descriptions are, but also just looking forward to reading some good adventures.
The other book is to help her sleep. She's found it hard to sleep on land without the rocking of a ship beneath her, so she picked up a reference work called Maritime Law of Salvage Operations in the Inner Sea. She's certain it's dry tone will put her out.
Though, I bet if I had Pawero read it to me in that monotone voice of his, I'd be out within the first sentence.
Feeling pretty confident after showing off her (admittedly very limited) legal acumen regarding Slippy, she joins Ezren by the barrister.
"But, what exactly is her sentence? If it was just 'be turned to stone,' then she's completed her sentence and can be released at any time. Even you, good sir, with your impressive legal knowledge, would have to agree with that."
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Everyone slips closer to the crowd - or perhaps into it - to begin calling out some rebuttals to the leaders' rhetoric.
"When we find a sticky thicket in our path, sometimes we need to take the route less walked to bring the pies home to granny," Pawero says. He flat affect rings somewhat comedic with his use of cant as he conveys that sometimes when the laws change it creates an opportunity for profit in a new way. "Others may want a hand greasing the wheel of the great machine, and fingers are not cheap."
The charlatan blinks and turns to look Pawero's way. "Hrm...so you're saying that, perhaps, such miscreants could prove more usef...er, productive members of society, if they were not made statues?"
He strokes his chin thoughtfully. "Interesting...and perhaps if freed, these people would be very grateful and feel very indebted..ha! Very well, I am convinced." Turning back to face the crowd, he calls out, "An epiphany! You bring home more pies with not-petrified people!"
the crowd cheers as the charlatan departs the scene, dreaming of new and improved schemes.
“Yes!” Maldlethu cries eagerly, long thin arms spread wide. “Let the plants grow on the petrified bodies of the imprisoned! Let their roots find cracks and sink deep into their stony flesh! Perhaps they will absorb not only the minerals, but also the intelligence and will of their hosts! Let them come to life, hungry for more!”
"Oh, er, uh...I don't know about sentient, bloodthirsty plants," the herbalist stammers, eyes wide. "Y'know...m-maybe there are other ways to introduce nature into the area...like just planting things. I...I'll go get started on that right away!"
The herbalist is next to exit the square, haunted by visions of flytraps big enough to swallow a man whole and smart enough to actually manage it.
"Did you say punch and pie? I LOVE punch and pie!" Swayaah moves up to the drunkard. "Let's ditch this crowd and celebrate at the Greasy Wheel, eh?" She points in the direction of the first tavern she saw in the neighborhood. "Come on, let's go."
"Ey, ey, ey!" the drunkard objects, swatting away Swayaah's hands, clearly not interested in her offer nor ready to leave just yet. "You like punsh so much, I'ma give ya a knuckle sandwich you keep botherin' me!" He makes a big, stumbling show of stretching his arms out wide to form a circle. "Reshpeckt mah bubble!"
Ezren stalks towards the barrister a set look on his face. "So you believe justice has been served here? Why don't you try being petrified for a few hundred years and see if you still believe in justice. Chances are you won't feel the same way I'll bet. To me this sounds of retribution than justice...but there is a chance to rectify this...show mercy, in addition to justice!"
The barrister seems unmoved by Ezren's words, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "Retribution? I think not! They 'did the crime' and so must 'pay the time' in accordance to the law when they offended. Of course future criminals will be made to serve a different punishment but there is simply not enough time or manpower or funding to go back and revisit every. single. offender, their offences, and their punishment."
"But, what exactly is her sentence? If it was just 'be turned to stone,' then she's completed her sentence and can be released at any time. Even you, good sir, with your impressive legal knowledge, would have to agree with that."
"Oh...well now, you know I never quite thought of it in that manner," the barrister now responds to Jirelle, looking rather thunderstruck at her simple observation. "You are correct that there is no official time period that any of these individuals were required to spend as statues. So it does stand to reason, that given no other stipulations, being turned to stone...is the punishment. No more, no less. And as such, each of these people have effectively served their sentence."
The barrister gives Jirelle a look of admiration. "That's quite a loophole you spotted. Ever give any thought to studying law? If so, please, pay me a visit later. For now...I have a great deal of work to do - all of these individuals must be released!"
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As the drunkard holds his arms out in a ring, Jirelle slinks up to him and ducks under his arms. Encircled and face to face, she leans in even closer to the (Ugh, smelly,) man.
"Mmmm, I do like a man knows how to take control. Let's get outta here, hon. I've got some good Sargavan rum in my room. And more...." she coos.
She leads him away from the dias, and then just at the edge of the crowd, she quickly twists and doubles back to lose her new friend. She glances back to see him standing alone and confused, searching the unknown faces of the crowd and no doubt dreaming of spiced rum and "more."
"Flies and honey, Swayaah," she laughs as she rejoins the others. "And NO, he was most certainly not my type. But let's un-petrify our shipmate first. Then pies and punch all around."
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Bubba opts to stand by, ready to bust some heads if things should turn ugly.
(But that surely won't happen, right?)
As the drunkard holds his arms out in a ring, Jirelle slinks up to him and ducks under his arms. Encircled and face to face, she leans in even closer to the (Ugh, smelly,) man.
"Mmmm, I do like a man knows how to take control. Let's get outta here, hon. I've got some good Sargavan rum in my room. And more...." she coos.
She leads him away from the dias, and then just at the edge of the crowd, she quickly twists and doubles back to lose her new friend. She glances back to see him standing alone and confused, searching the unknown faces of the crowd and no doubt dreaming of spiced rum and "more."
"Flies and honey, Swayaah," she laughs as she rejoins the others. "And NO, he was most certainly not my type. But let's un-petrify our shipmate first. Then pies and punch all around."
"Wha...buh...uh..." the drunkard stammers for a moment before getting a handle on himself. "You...you for realsh? Hell yesh! Les go!"
For once, the crowd doesn't really seem to know how to respond, though you do catch a few individuals in the crowd shooting the drunkard looks of jealousy as he totters off after Jirelle.
"Lucky bastard..."
But alas, today isn't actually the fellow's lucky day. He eagerly follows after Jirelle, only for her to lose him in the crowd and leave him hanging in more ways than one.
As the fire stokers and crowd shout on, he moves to a new position and tries a different tactic with the socialite. "Think how this came to be," he says. "A wealthy organization required quite some time and effort to secure the release of a single individual. This is not something that will happen often if ever again. The monsters have no one to advocate for them. The short lived criminals have bern forgotten by their descendants, if they had any. No. Your lawn art is safe. However, a brawling mob in the street is sure to ruin your gardens and homes."
"Ooh...I hadn't thought of that," the socialite responds, her expression a mixture of doubt and horror. "It probably would take ages for releases to be secured for even half of the statues here...and a brawl would certainly cause a great deal of property damage. No, it simply will not do! One or two statues here and there are acceptable losses!"
The socialite, last of the leaders, gazes out over the crowd and makes a shooing motion with her hands. "All right, that's enough! Time to move along, let these people go about their business in peace!"
And the crowd, having lost their steam, looks around for a moment and then begins to disperse.
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Yet as the crowd begins to disperse, one sour-faced man suddenly cries out,
On the last word he snaps his fingers and suddenly, three tiny gnashing spheres of teeth, fins, and spines appear within the square! What remains of the crowd shrieks in terror and scatters, but these creatures only seem interested in you...
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Pawero
Maldlethu
Ezren
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Green
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Jirelle
Bubba
Swayaah
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Blue
Red
Active Conditions: None
Environmental Conditions: None
Pawero, Maldlethu and Ezren are UP!
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"I didn't say he was your type." Swayaah grins. She sees the crowd disperse and shouts. "Alright folks. No cause for alarm. Nothing to see here. Move along..." She sighs.
She approaches the statue before hearing one heckler scream. She turns to him to unleash a death glare, but more deadly foes arrive. "I thought this was gonna be boring." She cracks her knuckles.
Salera sighs. "Pay attention, dear."
"There's one in every crowd..." Ezren grumbles as he ambles behind Pawero, readying for more fun.
Though Pawero isn't quite certain if these are demons or perhaps daemons, he's still fairly certain that the creatures are one or the other. He cautiously draws out his dagger and advances forward.
Ezren strides forward as well, quite certain that these creatures are harvester cacodaemons, the weakest of daemonkind. But he knows that even these creatures can be dangerous as their bite can cause a disease that clouds and weakens the mind. He conjures a magical shield for protection.
Maldlethu is also quite certain that these are harvester cacodaemons, recalling that such creatures tend to be weak against damage from goodly-aligned sources. The cleric calls upon his god to bless the party for the battle ahead.
Green gibbers eagerly...and then vanishes from sight!
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Pawero
Maldlethu
Ezren
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Green Cacodaemon
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Jirelle
Bubba
Swayaah
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Blue Cacodaemon
Red Cacodaemon
Active Conditions: Bless (Within 5 ft. of Maldlethu)
Environmental Conditions: None
Jirelle, Bubba and Swayaah are UP!
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Swayaah gets annoyed at her mother. "Pay attention, you say? They're demon-" Salera frowns and Swayaah catches herself. "Er, daemons. Anyway! Claws time!" Swayaah bears her claws and runs up the stairs, eager to do something interesting.
Then she stares at the bright Red thing and screams in its face, hoping to frighten it.
Ready to get down to business Swayaah closes the distance to Red and takes a swipe with her claws, which the cacodaemon avoids. However it wasn't prepared for such an up-close-and-personal assault and as the tiefling shrieks in its face, the creature becomes somewhat frightened!
Bubba comes racing after Swayaah and moves to try and help her against Red. He swings his mighty greatclub but the little daemon sees the blow coming and dodges out of the way.
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Pawero
Maldlethu
Ezren
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Green Cacodaemon
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Jirelle
Bubba
Swayaah
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Blue Cacodaemon
Red Cacodaemon
Active Conditions: Bless (Within 5 ft. of Maldlethu)
Environmental Conditions: None
Jirelle is UP!
Jirelle decides to leave Red to Swayaah and Bubba for the time being and sets her sights on Blue, instead. She draws her rapier and dashes up next to the fountain, just managing to tumble past Blue in the process.
Both Blue and Red follow Green's example; they gibber gleefully and then vanish from sight...
...but they seem to do a much better job of it than Green did.
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Pawero
Maldlethu
Ezren
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Green Cacodaemon
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Jirelle
Bubba
Swayaah
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Blue Cacodaemon
Red Cacodaemon
Active Conditions: Bless
Environmental Conditions: None
Pawero, Maldlethu and Ezren are UP!
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Pawero considers the barely perceptible distortions in the air where the cacodaemon hides. Determining a physical attack to be futile, he begins an ancient elven chant and makes an eldritch sign in the air, revealing an undisclosed trick up his sleeve. "Mae gwyntoedd yn chwythu a glaw yn cwympo. Streic mellt wrth fy ngorchymyn!"
Unfortunately, the summoned lightning arc passes too far from the daemon and diverts into the fountain.
Ezren nods in approval as he watches Pawero in action. "Well done!" as he follows up with his own version of the spell.