Thecla follows suit. enlightenment.
I bet these horrible very evil kobolds who very much deserve death never figured this out.
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Nat and Farzin make their way to the top. Once there, you see what appears as the translucent apparition of a portly man in his middle years, with an oiled mustache, thinning hair slicked back and tied in a neat knot. He is dressed in attire that was the height of Chelaxian fashion almost seven hundred years ago, with a billowing silk shirt, polished silver breastplate, and black leather boots held together with an excessively complex series of ribbons.
"Welcome, friends, to my humble abode. I trust the attendants were hospitable?"
Thecla bows, putting the act of a courtly noble. So nice to meet a person of manners here. I don't carry tea with me, but I have this bottle of Sauerton Red if you'd care to share a glass, or at least a whiff? It's rather… hmmm… balsamic.
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"Yes, I guess that would be me.
“It’s been a decidedly long time since anyone civilized made their way here. Last folks were those Pathfinders about a century ago... Shame how that turned out. I did warn them about the devil in the attic you know. And that was before all the kobolds showed up to worship the damned thing. Don’t suppose I can say much though, given as I’m the reason he’s here and he’s the reason I’m still stuck here.”
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“I’m a servant of the empire, you know; I was knighted for my efforts in quelling rebellion in these parts. The empire rewarded me with land on the far side of the country and a responsibility to guard this region. Bit of a barbed deal that. How was I to feed and larder troops to protect a keep on the opposite side of the empire from my holdings? I wasn’t, and that’s the simple truth of the matter. A devil, though? Hah! No food, no morale issues, and you don’t need to worry about paying them until the job is well and truly done. How was I to know that agreeing to be bound to the beast until the empire’s control of the region was reestablished and peace was returned was going to leave me stuck here for all eternity?”
Thecla chuckles. Buyer beware, as they say. She looks nervously at Kralgang.
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Well, Listen here, my friends: I have a bit of a proposition for you. I cannot leave this keep under my own power for as long as the devil is free upstairs, and he can’t be sealed back up in that throne of his by anyone other than me. So here’s my proposal: I’ll seal myself up in one of your wayfinders or another magic item of your choice. You head on upstairs and confront that infernal bugger. Best him in combat, and when it seems he’s destroyed, he’ll be weak enough to bind. What matters is that one of you place the item containing me against his throne and speak the proper words, which I will teach you. That’ll seal the bugger back up in his throne and put him at the service of the keep’s proper owner. Once he’s sealed up, place both of your hands against the object you seal me in and speak the same phrase; I’ll be free to travel on to the afterlife I’ve earned with my service to the empire. Once I’m gone, you’ll be the keep’s proper owners, with your own bound devil to oversee the place. What do you say?" he asks.
Interesting. Yes, what good would a devil do?
Thecla peers at the ghost through her mask, carefully.
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Thecla nods and slowly sips her vinegar wine. Her mask stares at Farzin for long moments.
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Diggen is not being entirely honest with the PCs. Though his statements about you becoming the proper owner over a devil-bound keep are true, he knows that trapping Nashaxian won’t break his infernal contract and release his soul. Instead, doing so will allow him to finally venture beyond the walls of the keep and escape the monotony of his prison. He knows that his soul is ultimately bound for Hell, and he hopes to take this additional time to prove himself to improve his status and prestige before facing damnation.
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"Lying to you? I didn't lie to you. I may not have told you everything, and the fact you will own this manor was the absolute truth. Lying. Why would I need to do that?
"I will do exactly what I said I would do. You will free me, for a time, to see the world one last time. This has no bearing on the terms of our arrangement."
You are sure that he is telling the truth, even if not all of the truth. What he might do while freed, you aren't sure of.
Thecla nods. I understand. I for one welcome the opportunity to assist you in escaping this prison, while making our own lives easier and more interesting. Only a fool would turn down such an offer as yours. Do you agree?
Thecla sees no harm in trapping the ghost in her Wayfinder, which would remove it from this prison once they leave. We can decide what to do later while the ghost is in our power, without having to fight it.
I am happy to help assist you in eventually going to your ultimate reward. There is resolution for you there. Please, enter my wayfinder.
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"Ah, well, good. Thank you." Diggen teaches the Pathfinders the words of binding, and enters into Thecla's wayfinder.
Once that discussion is over, Thecla finds on the third and highest platform, an old leather messenger bag, similar to the nearly destroyed one from the haunted woods. In it are several missives dated nearly a century ago, discussing matters of the day. There are three other items.
The first is an [i]archaic wayfinder[i], a deed signed in 4615 AR by a Chelaxian magistrate noting that ownership of the keep known as Diggen’s Rest was legally and officially transferred to the Pathfinder Society, and a wax sealed envelope protected by minor abjurations to prevent decay, marked with the date “14th Neth, 4091 ar” and addressed to Gregaro Voth.
To all servants of the empire,
Let it be known that the bearer of this deed is the rightful owner of the property knwon as Diggen's Rest and the adjacent property, constituting a parcel of 40 square acres. By the authority granted me under imperial decree as a humble and loyal servant of the empire, may its days stretch unending, this deed supplants all previous claims of ownereship.
Title and holdings to the property known as Diggen's Rest transfered to the organization known as the Pathfinder Society this 10th day of Arodus, 4615 AR.
Signed and sealed,
Magistrate Arinnia Arvanxi
My dearest friend,
It has been too long since we last traveled together! I know that Durvin worries the creature we met at the sealed gate may seek us out with ill intent if ever our keys are gathered together in one place, but I miss your kind face and humble smile. How fair things on the southern continent? Did your friends at the Magaambya have any insights into the nature of the keys or the door? Selmius, pompous buffoon that he is, has traveled to some island that he believes holds answers, but as you and I both know, that one is a scholar and by no means a diplomat. I fear for his safety far more than I hold out hope he will uncover anything. I worry that my time here in Cheliax will soon be coming to an end. I have no taste for the empire’s tactics in quelling those seeking more freedom and better representation, and I fear my reputation may proceed me in the eyes of too many aristocrats looking for “rebels” to crucify. I intend to return home for a time, and from there on to Quantium. Perhaps the arcanists there will have some answers that will allow us to discharge this burdensome pact and travel together once more.Your friend always,
Kerinha
Thecla chuckles and holds up her new trinket. A haunted wayfinder… what a fashionable accessory! Do you think it goes with my escoffion?
She spins it in the air. I only said I'd help him escape this prison. The boneyard is outside this tower, after all. We shall see, and I know it's important to you, Kralgang. Here, you can keep an eye on him if you like. She offers the wayfinder to the Duskwalker.
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She reads the letters. It seems like it's fated to be, that we own the keep. Who's Voth?
Let's bring these back with us.
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A narrow, twisting passageway, clearly built for defense over convenience, winds its way north from the stairwell. The ancient stones here are solid and free of dust, though a few of the sturdy blocks comprising the floor seem to have shifted or settled during the centuries since the tower was first erected.
Thecla moves forward, Searching.