AC =
HP =
Weapon Equipped =
Condition(s) = Water Breathing, Comprehend Languages? Maybe?
Chaance steps through the doorway, intent on laying eyes on whatever has engaged Rhoreen up front.
"Oh, that's unpleasant. That's a ghelarn. That goo there? I think Rhoreen's in danger of being dissolved, if she remains where she is. You should move, Rhoreen." Chaance leans in to speak with the cook.
"It'll try and hide, Yambul. You might need to smash the shell first, to get at the soft underbelly, uh, tentacles. Her fire won't help much, and I'm unsure any of us can attack it sonically?" The elf makes a statement which lilts upward in question, while stepping back through the doorway, leaving room for the others to advance on the ghelarn.
"Why now? Why did the TickTock power up to thrwart us, when it should have been awakened by the previous teams? It doesn't make much sense, unless they deactivated it..."
”Yea. Like, maybe they said to it – ‘Calm down stupid TicToc, conserve your energy’,” volunteers the Ratfolk, having pocketed the nanonet earlier. ”You know – in TicToc language,” he looks up at the elf.
There are two metallic cylinders attached to the top of the door, with a circular crystal at its bottom face and wires coming out of its top face.
”Hologram Projectors!!” Zzvkgrogk exclaims, his eyes glistening ever not so slightly. ”Probably to throw an illusion of sorts on this door! I would like to see if – Rhoreen!” he ceases his musing to try and protect Calliope from flailing tentacles, brandishing the Device – ”Step away!”
Round of Surprise
Bitten and somewhat stuck, Rhor can only mostly panic.
Fort
The character is ensnared. Being entangled impedes movement, but does not entirely prevent it unless the bonds are anchored to an immobile object or tethered by an opposing force. An entangled creature moves at half speed, cannot run or charge, and takes a –2 penalty on all attack rolls and a –4 penalty to Dexterity. An entangled character who attempts to cast a spell must make a concentration check (DC 15 + spell level) or lose the spell.
She shuffles back 5' and takes total defense, fearing this is her end.
Rhoreen rears as much as she can given she is stuck by the creature's fluids in the sand, raising her arms to defend herself.
Chaance adjusts her position.
Rūha does something heroic!
The purple tentacles stretch their attack on Rhoreen.
As the limbs coil around the half-elf's legs and neck, they tense with strength quickly suffocating her.
Unless Rūha's heroic actions prevent it, Rhoreen falls unconscious due to the treatment.
Rūha moves swiftly in, trying to duck and weave under the tentacles reaching out for Rhoreen. Up close, she stiffens her hand and jabs forth at the base of where the tentacle disappears into the sand.
The creature's rubbery body proves far too elastic. Rūha hesitates for a moment, then reasons that maybe the others will be better equipped to save Rhoreen. At least they'll be able to slice through or burn the tentacles. She dives forward, trying to get past the creature.
Once on the other side, she calls out "Such creatures may be motivated simply to feed. We make ourselves an unappealing meal, and it should flee. Self preservation is a compelling motivator."
The Ghelarn slams at Rūha as she approaches.
Her powerful fist hits the shell protecting the creature, but she manages to gain its back!
Rhoreen chooses to spend her turn laying on the ground with brain and guts seeping into the sand, as it appropriate in such circumstances. She had hoped that her entangled condition would help keep her organs in place, but maybe not.
At least she is providing light, so that others can see her gruesome injuries, and admire the nice texture of her spleen.
Weapon Equipped = Falchion
Conditions = water breathing (2/5h), Prestidigitation (10/60m)
Falchion: Attack: 2 BAB +4 Str +1 Focus (-1 PA) Damage: +6 Str (+3 PA) Crit: 18-20x2
Dagger: Attack: 2 BAB +4 Str / +2 Dex Damage: +4 Crit: 19-20x2 Range: 10’
Studied: () (move/immediate; +1 att, dam, bluff, knowledge, perception, sense motive, survival)
Prestidigitation (0/1)
Yambul tumbles in before trying to slice the creature holding Rhoreen.
to avoid AoO
He stumbles on his way past Rhoreen however and walks right into any AoO that might be coming his way. Still, he does his best with a swing!
(advice, flank) (advice)
Round 1
”Awrg!” Zzvkgrogk groans as the Cook’s foot slides the wrong way out from under his body on his attempt to get by the tentacled creature and he nearly falls on his tailless butt.
”Let go of her!” he shouts at the sand cephalopod.
"Her fire won't help much, and I'm unsure any of us can attack it sonically?"
he cries louder. Brigh, why must you challenge us so?
He makes his way over to Rhoreen. "Don't worry, Calliope, you'll be O.K.."
He pours a healing extract down her throat.
Hits: 11/13
AC 16, touch 14 (+3 dex, +1 racial), flat-footed 13 (+2 armor, +1 racial)
Laser Pistol Charges: 5/10
Brown nanite hypogun charges: 7/10
Even laying on the sand, Rhoreen heroically keeps the light up for the group to fight against the alien beast.
Yambul goes in, his falchion up, and despite one tentacle is entertained with Rūha, another one smacks at the Kellid on his approach.
Shrugging the pain to focus on his enemy, the cook prepares an octopus dish with the severing of one tentacle!
Rhoreen recovers her consciousness when the ratman administers her one of his dubious concoctions. She is still prone but back to the combat.
AC = 15
HP = 16/16
Weapon Equipped = Longbow
Condition(s) = Water Breathing, Comprehend Languages?
Chaance sees little in the way of assisting from where she stands, now that she's allowed the others to advance. She relents to use another arrow, though she's really hoping Yambul cracks it wide open with his massive blade.
"Ooo, sorry, Yambul, would you, oh, I see, you and Roo are trying to hit it from both sides, nevermind..."
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Round 2, Init 19
Rhoreen blinks awake, not sure if she's dead or not. She blinks a few more times, checking herself, before moving her hands to check on her wounds. She's badly hurt, but somehow not dead.
She looks over at Zzvkgrogk, finally tasting the extract on her tongue and she puts things together. She lets out a sound not unlike trying to spit out a bitter tuber that one has accidentally eaten.
No, she's not disenjoying the extract's taste, but trying to say Zzkgrogk's name.
"Oh thank you, <*sound*>," Rhor tries to see if her mouth works enough to say thanks to her friend.
Standing up from behind Yambul's cover, she holds the skymetal wand around her neck and focuses its energies at the creature.
HP: 2/14
AC: 12/12/10
Lay on Cats: 0/1 used
Rod of Regret: 0/3 used
Wand of SM1: 8/9 left
Open spell slots:
Left Hand: nothing
Right Hand: nothing
Sage Advice: (0/10 used)
:
[ dice]1d20+2[/dice] ranged to hit;
[ dice]1d4-1[/dice] blunt damage
She casts a very simple spell at Arturo.
”I can do it myself!!”
[ dice]1d8+1[/dice] CLW
With her friends covering the ground, Chaance has to aim for the upper parts of the beast, which ends with her arrow bouncing against the shell.
Recovering herself, Rhoreen looks badly at the tentacled creature, totally jinxing it.
The aberration tries to retaliate against the giant cooking knife wielder.
But distracted by the half-elf's stare, it only manages to slam once Yambul.
Then, with a sandy noise, starts to retreat into the open field.
Weapon Equipped = Falchion
Conditions = water breathing (2/5h), Prestidigitation (10/60m)
Falchion: Attack: 2 BAB +4 Str +1 Focus (-1 PA) Damage: +6 Str (+3 PA) Crit: 18-20x2
Dagger: Attack: 2 BAB +4 Str / +2 Dex Damage: +4 Crit: 19-20x2 Range: 10’
Studied: (tentacled creature) (move/immediate; +1 att, dam, bluff, knowledge, perception, sense motive, survival)
Prestidigitation (0/1)
Yambul reels as the creature strikes him. He's sure he's down for the count, but he's learned just enough to keep his feet.
He 5’ steps and studies the creature now that he has the time (move). Then he swings again!
(advice, studied) (advice, studied)
With a mighty blow of his falchion, Yambul breaks through the shell of the creature and cuts the core of the aberration. Half-split, the creature quickly dies.
The shell is an oddity and could be worth 20 golds to an artisan or collector.
Beyond, the cave opens into a quite desert. Moving a bit in any direction, you only find the desert extends further away up to where your light reaches. Farther away, only darkness, including up, you cannot see any ceiling, only blackness.
Clearly marked on the sand, you can see a trail that disappears in the darkness to the northwest. At least two different groups of more than three people.
There is the trail of a single person coming back. That person made the way back running and stumbling at certain points.
Rhoreen looks at Yambul as she examines her own wounds.
"Yeah, maybe *now* it's time to head back," she finally notes, her pride (and body) wounded. "We're all a bit banged up."
Rhoreen touches a few of her wounds, hoping she can make it back to town. And she thinks she can.
"We've made a good start. Maybe come back tomorrow and try again," she suggests, but will also hear words from others.
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"Oh thank you, <*sound*>," Rhor tries to see if her mouth works enough to say thanks to her friend.
”Yea, sorry. Next time I’ll make that extract taste like watermelon,” he says, bravely guarding her from Ghelarn shell shrapnel as Yambul makes his final swing. He gathers some of the shattered shell in case he runs into a collector.
”Well, it looks like two different groups of three went off that-away,” he gestures toward the northwest, ”And one came running and stumbling back… maybe poor Gerrol…”
"Yeah, maybe *now* it's time to head back…”
Zzvkgrogk nods. ”Yea -- that's a good idea," the RatFolk nods. "We need to get Yambul's armor properly cleaned anyway. And, in terms of healing, we’ve only this nanite hypogun, and – Calliope -- do you still have that potion of healing? We should head back, see what of this we can sell and recharge, and come back provisioned to survive a desert! Come on, let's go talk to Father Kyte, then onto Ulreth!
Hits: 11/13
AC 16, touch 14 (+3 dex, +1 racial), flat-footed 13 (+2 armor, +1 racial)
Laser Pistol Charges: 5/10
Brown nanite hypogun charges: 7/10
”All right then.” Yambul says, breathing heavily, ”Now I think it’s time for us to go back. Rest up and take this fresh tomorrow.”
He peers off into the darkness as far as he can see.
”Let’s head back for now. And yeah, we should offer the tech to Sanvil Trett first for setting us up with Ulreth.”
Rūha winces, touching the spot where the creature's tentacle pummeled her. "No arguments from me. I hope there's nothing else like that out there in that... desert? Is that normal for caves around here? It certainly doesn't seem to match the features of the earlier cave where the skulks and gremlins were residing."
"I agree, probably Gerrol." Rūha takes another long look into the desert, her brow furrowing as the sight briefly leads her to a possible explanation for her earlier question. She shrugs, two hands moving upward in a visible gesture of helplessness, then walks over to pat Yambul on the back "That was quite something, the way you finished off the tentacle creature. What were you before you became a cook?"
A bit battered by the tentacled creature you decide to call it a day and retreat back to Torch. The skulks ask you if you found what you were looking for on your way back, and you make a stop to recover Gerrol's body with a hook once more. Rhoreen and Chaance identified before how to deal with the russet mold.
Finally, you trace back to the sunken tunnel and dive up to the surface of the Weeping Pond .
From here, you can take different routes. Of course you can trace directly to the Temple of Brigh for healing, but next to the pond there is the Otterbie Manor , home of the fiancé Emila Otterbie, and also the Garrison and Armory where you might be able to sell or buy some weapons. You can also lighten your weight, the General Store and The Market Square (where Sanvil Trett offered you to buy tech stuff) are half way to the temple, and nearby both of them to the south, is The Foundry tavern .
Rhoreen, clutching a broken rib, makes a slow beeline toward the Temple and healing. She will be happy to attend to Emilia after seeing to her wounds, but doesn’t want to drip blood on Emilia’s carpet while explaining Gerrol’s fate.
This is going to be tough, but I’ll do it proudly.
She will tenderly open the doors to the Temple of Brigh, letting others in first.
”Watchkeeper? Are you here? We need aid. We have stories…but also…need aid,” Rhoreen will call out.
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Clockfather Joram Kyte receives you with open arms. As you can see his progress in this couple hours has been much and his Stench Prevention Big Iron Can for Sorted Waste Disposal is completed and he has begun work on another one, a couple acolytes copying his work "Oh my! You look terribly bad my child. Come, gather around" the old man touches an amulet with the shape of a mask with a forehead rune and it shines sending a positive energy wave that closes your wounds and erases your bruises.
"So, did you find notice of Braine or what happened with the purple flame?" the man makes a recess to talk with you, while his acolytes work hard.
The man offers you access to the workshop temple's shop, selling a wand at a 20% discount and other goodies while you work on solving the town's problem.
The temple sells most items under 2400 gp value, and then some up to 5000 gp.
In addition, exposed in a safe area, there are a strange wide-barreled metal tool with rocket-propelled magnesium charges , a scroll of find traps (CL 10th), three scrolls of restoration, a scroll of raise dead, and a wand of rebuke technology (11 charges).
The temple also offers crafting on demand and also enchanting services with divine magic.
Yambul’s injuries are also very much on his mind. He’s sure he can see bone through the injury on his arm. And that can’t be good. So he’ll join Rhoreen for now, and drag his satchel full of loot to the Market Square to visit with Sanvil Trett next.
”Father, thanks for the healing. We’ll get some cash together and buy that wand from you. We’ll almost certainly want to buy another as well so maybe can you line a second one up for us?”
"So, did you find notice of Braine or what happened with the purple flame?"
"Oh yes, Clockfather," Rhoreen replies trying to keep the pain out of her voice until Joram's divine spark is released. "We were not perfectly successful, as you can see, but we did make some good progress."
Rhoreen will tell about everything they had face, killed, or tried to kill them. At the end, she has two questions.
"So, do you think the skulk tribe can be trusted? I see no reason why not as they have been living close to us for a long time, with no issue. And also, what should we do about that weird mold. We think it can be burnt away, but even that is somewhat worrisome. Do you think that will work?"
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After a "It wouldn't do to leave the poor next of kin waiting." Rūha loosely loops a rope around Gerrol's corpse and starts hauling it back to town. Rhoreen and Chaance's conclusions meant there was at least *some* time before the mold took completely over. Long enough that the body could be identified and cremated. The man had met a terrible end, to be sure. But worse would be serving as some kind of spawning ground.
Once back at the surface, and not knowing of Rhoreen's intentions, she tracks down Dolga in order to have the dwarf pass the news on to Emilia. As a stranger, and as an unfamiliar creature to most of the locals, Rūha reasons that anything else may invite unpleasant assumptions. Rūha catches up to her new allies at the temple shortly afterward. She bows her head in thanks for Joram's help. "Indeed. Thank you."
"We recovered the body of a previous explorer, one Gerrol. His remains are in dire need of cremation, or magical purification, if his... fiancé?... would object to that." She explains the details of the situation.
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”Let me see that!” Zzvkgrogk exclaims, sensing what Yambul is thinking, snatching the Wand from Yambul’s proffered hand. ”Do you know how to use it?! Look – it says right here. ‘Yazzelkapoof’. Yes, this could be handy…” He pockets the wand.
”I hope there's nothing else like that out there in that... desert? Is that normal for caves around here?”
When forced to – and curiosity is a compelling motivator for Zzvkgrogk – he looks up from the immediate shiny things in front of him toward the bigger picture of the immeasurable (for him anyway) and deceptive depth defying sparking sandscape that evaporates into the nothingness of black space before them – and sighs in awe.
The caves he knew and called his home – they looked nothing like this.
”No, but… it would be more interesting if they did…” he states, the desert reflecting in his dilated pupils.
"That was quite something, the way you finished off the tentacle creature. What were you before you became a cook?"
Zzvkgrogk scratches his head encouraging a memory to surface. ”Oh… did I not see you by the roadside on my way in – selling sparkly things? Maybe you can finish that pendant concept with the gremlin shortsword. Might make for a further peace offering with the Skulk Clan when we return. Or… we could sell it, I guess.”
Like Rhoreen, he heads for the Temple of Brigh where he slides past Rhoreen and jams a door stop under the door to hold it open where her gentle hand rests. He makes his way to a pew, slides in and kneels. He bows his head and prays momentarily.
Dear Brigh, these people need a break. And Baine back. Please guide us to Baine.
He rises and joins the others in healing by Clockwork Father Kyte.
”Clockwork Father, we saw many things. We saw where others passed! There is an Iron wall, where beings like Rūha have passed! And tictocs! Oh! There are more tictocs!”
~~~
"We recovered the body of a previous explorer, one Gerrol. His remains are in dire need of cremation, or magical purification, if his... fiancé?... would object to that."
Zzvkgrogk III looks on, curious as to how the situation might resolve.
People are shocked when a six-armed humanoid appears carrying a body. There are shouts of alarm, then people start to shout Baine has been found, then Dolga Freddert appears and the Kasatha is finally able to explain herself. The Council elder frowns "Emilia Otterbie is going to be hurt. But it is better than waiting forever without knowing what happened." understanding Rūha does not feel comfortable enough to talk with the girl, the dwarf offers herself "Fine, I will let her know so she can come and confirm it is him and say a goodbye. Meanwhile, I will divert a team from the waste disposal to have a pyre done, is that how we should treat the spores?"
"Anyway, I suggest you pay Emilia a visit once you are a bit more free. I guess she will appreciate to have detailed first hand information of what happened." the eldery dwarf looks down at the corpse and negates. With a sigh, she starts to give orders to dispose the body.
On the wand, Joram sells the one available and pats a stick by his side addressing Yambul's question "I have another one available, but I would not like to leave the town without emergency healing if possible. We will see if we can craft one more tomorrow. Some donation might help..."
The Clockfather listens attentively to Rhoreen's retelling "Oh, the skulks... depends on what their goals here are, but from what you say, they seem too few to be a problem and they look pretty scared in your story, so I would not worry. As for the mold... what you describe seem two different ones, I would not worry much about the one on the cave, it grows only with heat for what you say. But the russet mold, this vegepigthing you say sounds dangerous. We need to keep that infestation far away from the town. Can you do that my child?"
Joram smiles at Zzvkgrogk's enthusiasm and feeds his imagination with his description of iron walls and tictocs "Strange. It is said millennia ago there was a Rain of Stars that littered our land with its debris. Our oral history tell us that is the source of the tech-stuff and tictocs we can find around Numeria. There are big deposits known in Starfall and Scrapwall, but no one was ever documented here in Torch. Very strange."
"Some people say what fell were not stars but actual vessels of alien creatures and what we see is not star debris but the remains of their actual homes, shaped to their like and needs." the old man looks at this point at Rūha "Others say the fall was the blessing of Brigh to our land. And I say why can it not be both things true?" Joram softly laughs at this point in good mood.
Most prehistoric treaties point Kasatha to be natives of Kasath, a planet dominated by vast deserts and rugged mountains. In fact, it is known for your kin to have adapted well to desert habitats when having to colonize other planets.
”Can you do that, my child?”
Rhoreen blinks, realizing that she’s being asked to do something big, and important, and by someone in charge who matters. She pauses, takes a breath, and touches her injured-now-healed ribs. She then lifts her chin up, jutting with pride.
”Of course. I can do this. Of course, I can,” Rhoreen says very seriously. She isn’t sure Joram is doubting her ability to do it, or just asking her to do it, but either way, it’s a challenge to her pride. ”We’ll get it done in the next few days. You’ll see.”
She gets to her feet, and makes sure everyone is healthy as well.
”C’mon, we have work to do. We’ll need to sell what we’ve found, then buy more supplies for the trip. We won’t fail at this for lack of planning.”
”Clockfather, we’ll be back in the morning for another dousing of water breathing, if you don’t mind.”
* * *
Rhoreen will stop by to offer Emilia condolences before moving to the market.
She shrugs, two hands moving upward in a visible gesture of helplessness, then walks over to pat Yambul on the back "That was quite something, the way you finished off the tentacle creature. What were you before you became a cook?"
Zzvkgrogk scratches his head encouraging a memory to surface. ”Oh… did I not see you by the roadside on my way in – selling sparkly things? Maybe you can finish that pendant concept with the gremlin shortsword. Might make for a further peace offering with the Skulk Clan when we return. Or… we could sell it, I guess.”
”Oh, yeah, it’s true. I do jewelry, but I’m not very good at it yet. I just like having something to do with my hands you know? Keeps ‘em from getting into trouble.” he looks very serious. He takes out the gremlin short sword though, ”I need to drill into the pommel, here, and that’s going to take some time. Maybe after we find Baine.”
On the wand, Joram sells the one available and pats a stick by his side addressing Yambul's question "I have another one available, but I would not like to leave the town without emergency healing if possible. We will see if we can craft one more tomorrow. Some donation might help..."
”Sure thing father. I just need to sell some of this stuff down at the market, and I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
He listens to the good fathers musings and nods. He’s heard these stories before, but he’d only half believed them. After all, who still believes children’s stories? But he had seen the strange metals walls and even stranger mechanical devices…
”C’mon, we have work to do. We’ll need to sell what we’ve found, then buy more supplies for the trip. We won’t fail at this for lack of planning.”
”Clockfather, we’ll be back in the morning for another dousing of water breathing, if you don’t mind.”
When the party begins heading to their next destination, Yambul hauling a huge sack and clearly struggling under its weight, he suggests, ”Look, if we can sell all this stuff in the next hour or so, I say we go back in. We came out to get healed, bingo, to get a wand, bingo, and to rest. Well do we really need to rest? Let’s hurry and get back while we still have a couple hours of water breathing.”
He stops a second, heaving the sack to the ground and breathing a moment. ”Look… Baine might be hurt down there. I think we owe him to try again today. Just a little further, while we have the water breathing.”
Yambul hoists the big sack back over his shoulders and hauls after Rhoreen.
"That was quite something, the way you finished off the tentacle creature. What were you before you became a cook?"
Chaance raises an eyebrow, as the kasatha asks the cook what came before, and why he's so able with a falchion. The answer interests the elf, as well, though she hadn't thought to ask it earlier.
Finally, you trace back to the sunken tunnel and dive up to the surface of the Weeping Pond.
Chaance does her best to clean herself up, emerging from the Pond, looking over at the cook. "Yambul, would you mind? That trick of yours to see yourself clean? Yes, thank you." The elf wonders what it would take to learn it herself, so she needn't bother someone else with personal hygiene matters.
"”Let me see that! Do you know how to use it?! Look – it says right here. ‘Yazzelkapoof’. Yes, this could be handy…”
Chaance leans over the ratfolk, to spy the wand where the furry finger alights. "See. You speak 'wand'. Be its boss." The elf winks at Zzvkgrogk, nickname still pending.
"But the russet mold, this vegepigthing you say sounds dangerous. We need to keep that infestation far away from the town. Can you do that my child?"
Chaance remains respectfully quiet, as the others plow ahead with little slowing for rest or recuperation. Mentally, that is. The elf is perfectly uninjured, but she is daunted by recent events. The ghelarn by itself could have been their death. They were lucky the skulks didn't try to flank them at the rear. Oh, and the gremlins! What's to say there aren't more we haven't smoked out? And the Vegypygmys... what if the russet did more damage than the poor boy? I don't like the Clockfather's alarm. Just as contagious as the mold. The alarm.
It feels too personal, the notification of the loved one's deceased, so Chaance leaves it to the locals to speak with Emilia, and waits to learn when they're due next to return to the Pond and Beyond.
"Look… Baine might be hurt down there. I think we owe him to try again today. Just a little further, while we have the water breathing.”
Chaance hears the earnest cook, and is left wondering if the others feel the same urgency. She knows that caution is the better part of valor here, and she's seen the ghelarnous trouble they're likely to face upon return. "I'm not opposed, as long as we're well-supplied. I need more arrows." She admits to herself that self-injury would have counseled her differently, but she's also seen the others survive where others had not. They're made of stronger stuff, I think.
Chaance does her best to clean herself up, emerging from the Pond, looking over at the cook. "Yambul, would you mind? That trick of yours to see yourself clean? Yes, thank you." The elf wonders what it would take to learn it herself, so she needn't bother someone else with personal hygiene matters.
"Oh, sure!" Though it takes a minute or two per person, he'll help clean any who request it - including himself of course. Don't want rusty armor.
”YOLO! Let’s go back today! Yeet! C’mon fam!”
Rhoreen shakes her head, looking determined, but also logical.
”Not sure I have it in me today, Yam,” she offers. ”Look, we need to sell the stuff we’ve found, and then figure out what we need to buy before we go back. And, if we can swing it, I’d like some time to do some research on what we saw down there. What are those cards we found, huh? They might be useful? Or maybe a few more magics might be helpful.”
Rhoreen shakes her head, looking determined, but also logical.
”Not sure I have it in me today, Yam...”
Yambul hangs his head when he hears Rhoreen's proclamation. He doesn't hear the reasons - they don't matter. He hopes they find Baine OK.
Sighing he hoists the bag up again, "Let's at least get the shopping done, this thing's heavy and what I want is weightless!" He grins conspiratorially.
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Joram smiles, clearly satisfied the group is going to avoid the vegething to cause trouble.
Emilia's house is by the pond, so in order to optimize time that is better left for after the market.
The southern shore of Crowfeather Lake is dominated by the Market Square. The place roars awake at this time of the day, the street vendors selling all type of colorful wares. The most vibrant, the vegetable stalls, with food brought from the few spots in Numeria where these still grow healthy, away from the metal ruins leaks. The large tattered wagons are decorated with a collage of vegetables and their owners stand beside them screaming prices like auctioneers, but instead of a hammer, they use a carrot or an onion, which they use to wade of the flies pointlessly dancing around the vegetables.
It is all good stalls do not have doors for they would not last long against the might, impatience, and violence of the Kellid customers. Herds of people climb on top of each other at the counter of each stall yelling wildly like mindless monkeys brawling for a banana.
You skillfully wave your way by locating minute gaps between sweaty buyers and squeezing through. A helpless woman fumbles through the scores of bags she carries and tries to tick on a list with a pen clenched between her teeth. Finally, you make it to your destination, a wagon full of metallic scrap from all Numeria and TicToc parts run by a smiling Sanvil Trett "Look! *<Zzroghsh>* and his friends! So you did indeed went down and found some pieces of interest?"
The man looks with great interest at all of your wares and buys all the tech stuff for you, identifying whatever you found and you still do not know what it is "Mmmm... very interesting this brown cards. They were past that metallic wall you say? Well, they are more likely used to unlock doors. Look, it is done like this..." he picks up a rectangular metallic part with a crystal in the middle and he introduces the card inside a crevice "...see? Easy. Perhaps they still open some doors down there."
The sun warms up the stuffy, stinking air which smells not only to sweat and rotting fish, but to the sour and rancid stink of days waste not properly cremated in Torch's flame.
You also do find buyers for the other non-tech stuff with you, and Chaance finds a good fletcher with imported elven arrows. She is even offered a magical arrow "This is a very special arrow ya' know? Da' bane of undead. Used by the very same Inheritor to fight da' Tar-Baphon in the Wall. She gave it to one of her Champions and was inherited by a long dynasty of crusaders. When 'dis fellow came to fight in the Worldwound he sold it to me to get da' coin to pay the Technic League taxes. Ya' don't need to fight the undead in the Worldwound, you need da' demon ones there ya' know? Ya' buy this one isn't it? It is only the 160 golds. Cheap ah? Ya' elves always need one of these ones, true eh?"
Yambul empties his sack!
Yambul will head back to the market, and seek out an Assuming he can find one, he’ll show it off to the others, ”I saw this on an old miner once. Really slick huh?” He’ll save the rest of his cash for now though he can loan 25gp if anyone wants it.
"I don't think I'm up for that either, going again so soon as much as I want to. I too would like to prepare a bit."
Before Yambul goes and blows all his money on an Ioun Stone:
"Oh, that reminds me, Cook Boy. Can I see those glowy eyes stuck to your gear? I wish I thought of this earlier. I worry about the one bug that ran away, and if it'll come back with reinforcement bugs."
Zzykgrogk checks to see if anything useful can be/could have been done further with the eyeballs. If it is the next day, he will cast a spell for an additional +5 on the following roll.
"Well, they are more likely used to unlock doors. Look, it is done like this..."
Rhoreen takes mental notes as Sanvil describes how the cards work, and thinking/hoping that one of them might open a few doors down there when they party returns on the morrow.
"Oh, those cards, <*sound*>" Rhoreen makes a sound like a drunk gnome face-firsting into a cabbage cart, speaking to Zzvkgrogk. "We have a lot of those we can try when we go back. That will be exciting."
After selling the equipment (already posted about condolences to Emilia), Rhor will return home to ponder what she learnt from the day, and from the flea, trying to "familiarize" herself with new magics.
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Rūha thanks Dolga for her help once more, stepping back to let the others continue handling the infested adventurer's remains while she ponders Joram's speculation. 'Vessels of alien creatures? It does seem as good an answer as any. That would presume ancient starships though, very ancient given that this Rain of Stars occurred millennia ago for the people here.' You see Rūha pressing two sets of fingertips to her forehead.
'Assuming it isn't a half-baked simulation chamber, that means the ruins originate with a precursor species. Co-temporaneous with... what were they called? The Kisharee? Or earlier? Or later? There's not enough information yet to determine.' She shakes her head. 'What I wouldn't do for some reference materials...'
She follows mutely behind the group as they head to the market, lost in thought until the group starts discussing going back right away "Oh, surely we'll want to rest overnight first? At the very least for those with magic to restore their reserves. I do feel a little anxious about Wz. Baine, but it seems dangers of all kinds have managed to interpose themselves in the path we intend to take, and we should endeavor to not add ourselves to the statistics."
She avidly follows the explanation on the access cards, nodding as if it were only elementary. If one is available, she asks to hold onto one of the cards. Then, while she has a few moments, she peeks around the market for inexpensive magical tools that might be able to help keep her safe.
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Zzvkgrogk examines the Blindheim's eyeballs, later that night he can do some work to properly preserve them, and they should do a good regent for an ever-burning torch or a similar magical light item, but there is nothing else about them really.
Rhoreen thinks the best way to deal with the russet mold is using alcohol, acid, or using remove disease magic. Normally, russet mold is immune to fire, but the patch on Gerrol's body isn't fully mature, so if the body is cremated, the infestation is halted as well.
Rūha looks around for some protective magics, and founds a local scribe that also sells a few low level scrolls, including mage armor ones. There are wands too, and pearls of power, but they are a bit more prized.
Short after leaving the Market Square, you are approached by a nervous-looking halfling courier "You are the ones that went today into the Black Hill Caves, isn't it?" he breaths deeply, he seems to have been running around "I have a message for you, an invitation to come visit Torch’s illustrious tavern and card room, Silverdisk Hall"
The halfling delivers a card on you and makes a greeting with his hand before disappearing.
You open the invitation card. It comes directly from the hall’s owner, Garmen Ulreth, and includes five certificates, one with each of your names: Yambul, Chaance, Rhoreen, Rooha and Zevgrosh Sbkroskch Zk the Ratman. Each certificate is worth 100 gp for use in gambling and entertainment at his establishment, redeemable anytime during this week.
You recognize that Garmen Ulreth is one of the more influential people in Torch—an impressive quality, given the fact that he’s neither a councilor nor a legitimate merchant. Indeed, Garmen’s considerable pull in town stems from the fact that a number of Torch’s citizens owe him money in either small or large amounts.
Garmen is associated with what passes for Torch’s thieves’ guild—a gang of thugs and roughs called the Ropefists. The owner of Silverdisk Hall may even be the gang’s leader. He certainly employs enough of the Ropefists as bouncers and guards at his gaming hall.
Yambul plays with the ioun stone as the halfling approaches. He puts it away and listens.
vs DC 10 (untrained, max DC 10)
He shrugs and says, ”Anyone know this place?” He looks at the card, ”Tavern. I don’t feel much like drinking what with Baine missing.” He pockets the invitation, ”But we’ll celebrate his return there, OK?” After all, that’s 100gp right there.
”Anyone know this place?”
Rhoreen doesn't smile as she answers. "I know the place and the name. Garmen Ulreth. Loan shark and leader of the Ropefists. Not someone that I intend to be too friendly with," she answers, way too proud to ever ask for a loan.
"Maybe I can sell this," Rhor says of the card, but stores it away for now.
"Or maybe after we return successful, we'll go there and party it up," she says as she drops the invite into her pouch.
"Either way, it can wait. And if you'll excuse me, I have preparations to make for tomorrow," Rhor continues, ready to head home to prepare.
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"There are big deposits known in Starfall and Scrapwall, but no one was ever documented here in Torch. Very strange."
Zzvkgrogk bounces up and down, unable to contain his excitement. ”I’m sure there’s a starship in there somewhere, and I swear someday we’ll fly it out of there!”
Zzvkgrogk's little body quivers with excitement as Sanvil and he go over the various bits of found technology. He quickly settles down and focuses on the pieces.
"Grogk! Do you think if we had a bunch of these we could build a compact power generator?”
”Oh, and this could control them, grogk!”
”And with more of these could hold the whole thing together!”
"Oh, those cards, <*sound*>,” Rhoreen makes a sound like a drunk gnome face-firsting into a cabbage cart, speaking to Zzvkgrogk. We have a lot of those we can try when we go back. That will be exciting."
Zzvkgrogk nods looking up, not impressed that Rhoreen has managed to mangle his name into a soft thud. It doesn’t sound anything like a thud… He looks closely to see if she has somehow broken her jaw as he states, ”We should keep our eyes peeled for more cards when we go back.”
She avidly follows the explanation on the access cards, nodding as if it were only elementary. If one is available, she asks to hold onto one of the cards.
Coincidentally, Zzvkgrogk finds all of the cards in his pocket. He holds them out in a fan to allow Rūha to choose for herself.
He spends some time preserving eyeballs, studying and copying spells from the scroll and the book that was found. In the morning, he prepares some spells for the trip back into the caves.
~~~
”I have a message for you, an invitation to come visit Torch’s illustrious tavern and card room, Silverdisk Hall"
Zzvkgrogk tries not to look too astonished, but is even too astonished to immediately notice how his name was mangled then abbreviated.
”Ooh,” he coos softly after the courier leaves, sounding astonished. ”The Silverdisk! This is quite amazing, Garmen Ulreth is one of the more influential people in Torch, though it might seem strange as he’s no merchant, or known for his politic-ing. A lot of people owe him money though..."
He looks up at Yambul. "Oh, no, not now. Baine first, of course. But -- we should use them at some point. Not using a gift like this from a guy like him... would in the very least be insulting. I think without him, this would be an even harder place to live. I just think... somehow him being here lends some order to it. It's bad enough he's thinking about leaving because there is no purple flame."
He points to the darkened mountaintop.
Shield
Heightened Awareness
True Strike
Hits: 13/13
AC 16, touch 14 (+3 dex, +1 racial), flat-footed 13 (+2 armor, +1 racial)
Laser Pistol Charges: 5/10
Brown nanite hypogun charges: 7/10
Wand of Cure Light Wounds: 50/50
"This is a very special arrow ya' know... true eh?"
Chaance touches the arrow, covetously so. "You are very kind to show me this, miss. I will remember your business savvy, fletcher. Today, I'll only be able to purchase these fine imports, but don't you worry. The way things are going, I'll be in constant need of your services. As long as the arrows fly true, of course." The elf smiles very politely, but she does inspect each and every arrow within the quiver, before she takes her leave.
...
"I have a message for you, an invitation to come visit Torch’s illustrious tavern and card room, Silverdisk Hall."
Chaance turns the card over in her hand.
"Anyone know this place?”
"I know the place and the name. Garmen Ulreth. Loan shark and leader of the Ropefists. Not someone that I intend to be too friendly with."
"Oh, no, not now. Baine first, of course. But -- we should use them at some point."
Chaance considers for a moment, tapping the card on the palm of her hand. Let's be sensible about this. "From what you say, this Ulreth character is only interested in laying eyes on us personally." She holds up the card. "This is a lure. He wants our potential success to flow into his establishment."
The elf turns to the others. "I'm going. To Silverdisk, tonight. I'd like to put this matter behind me. I'll drop off my possessions at the Foundry, and pay Ulreth a visit, and spend his coin as a gesture of good faith. You're welcome to join me, but I don't plan on drink or dinner, only a single bet of 100 symbolic gold pieces."
"Chaance, what is your hurry? We have a whole week. I myself could use a good night's rest for tomorrow to find Baine. I don't want to be all groggy and swim that cave. Won't you reconsider waiting a bit?" he pleads with little beady eyes.
"As I see it, every day we choose to delay our social call is another day for Ulreth to take umbrage. You saw the little courier. He knees practically knocked together. And who knows? We might learn something, before our next venture into the cave."
Rūha turns the invitation over and look at it through her goggles. It sounded like this Ulreth was as influential as he was dangerous. From her experience, people playing the political game were to be avoided or appeased, and she wasn't in the mood to try her luck at the second. Chaance seemed to be though. "Surely Ulreth aims to learn from us, with very little to offer the other way around. We have delved into the caverns and returned, which puts us in a privileged position. Going by how you're all describing him, I expect he is looking to squeeze some information out of us, by bribe first and then by threat if we don't comply. I would rather not place myself under his ministrations."
She shrugs "If you wish to take the challenge Chaance, please exercise caution."
The party is split profiting their downtime differently. While some go tell Emilia Otterbie the bad news, others decide to try their chances at the gambling house, and other just go work home.
The manor has a gardened exterior, nothing sumptuous, but clearly meaningful for the dried rocky environs of Torch. The trees give way to a small fountain in front of an oak door that you knock softly.
After a small presentation and back and forth with the majordomo, you gain entrance to the house. The main hall has a grand set of stairs and two figures at side and side: a full Mendevian crusader armor at the right, and a mighty cold iron greatsword at the left. On the walls, tapestries with images of artisans forging weapons and merchants traveling to distant lands, mingle with those of champions in shiny armors fighting disgusting demons emerging from a crevice in the land.
You are received in the living room. A beautiful hearth is off and the windows are open to let a slight breeze in. Emilia sits on a sofa, her eyes watery, her mother Bazlundi Otterbie by her. It is the oldest one the first to address you "Dolga already brought the bad news. But we value your efforts to recover Gerrol's body nonetheless."
Emilia looks back at you and choked with emotion manages to ask you "How did all happened?"
Bazlundi calls the majordomo and requests cold drinks you are dutifully offered short after.
You are received at the gambling house by a receptionist that takes note of your invitations and let's you in into the main room giving you chips that can be used for either playing or orders. The ambience is vivid, with most of the tables fully packed at this time of the day.
People are enjoying their time, drinking or eating at the lower floor, while some stairs bring up to the second floor where actual games are being played.
In the middle of the room, there is a large statue of Kevoth-Kul, Black Sovereign of Numeria. At the stage a group of three men are dancing nearly naked, and a dwarf is livening up the soiree.
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"As I see it, every day we choose to delay our social call is another day for Ulreth to take umbrage. You saw the little courier. He knees practically knocked together. And who knows? We might learn something, before our next venture into the cave."
Yambul gets angry, "If this guy is going to get his underwear in a twist because we're more focused on saving lives than gambling, well, screw this guy. I'm not going. He can wait until after we've found Baine."
He goes to Emilia.
Emilia looks back at you and choked with emotion manages to ask you "How did all happened?"
”We’re not yet sure ma’am. All we know is that he was alone when he fled from deeper in the complex. We hope to have more answers for you tomorrow when we return to continue to search for survivors and more answers.”
He looks guilty, ”I uh, borrowed his armor, but I’m happy to return it to you.” He’ll offer a package with the armor. ”I can get something from the armorer readily enough.” he adds if she suggests he keep it.
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"If this guy is going to get his underwear in a twist because we're more focused on saving lives than gambling, well, screw this guy. I'm not going. He can wait until after we've found Baine."
"I will avoid conveying your indignation, Yambul."
...
Chaance takes it all in, chips newly in-hand. She hefts them, glad that it's all she has on her for the evening. She leans in to ask the receptionist what Garmen Ulreth looks like. She pats the stack of chips, smiling, indicating wordlessly that she's thankful for them, really. She almost imperceptibly startles when she realizes that she should give a chip to the receptionist, for her effort.
She doesn't linger, much. This Numerian gambling hall is a new thing, the people patronizing it, the large statue overseeing it. She takes note of the faces and the voices, committing it to memory should she be asked later. Also rumors. There are always rumors to be heard.
She gambles her stack of chips before or after her introductions with Garmen, but gamble she does.
When she inevitably meets Garmen Ulreth, she offers her bow hand firm grip, show him respect, not intimidation. "Proprietor Ulreth. I appreciate your gesture." Chaance pats her chips. "It's quite generous, given that we're strangers. If I may be forward, I'm here to inquire about my brother. Your reputation precedes you. If anyone other than Khonnir Baine is to be asked, I'm betting on you knowing all there is to know about Torch, and those who walk its streets." There is calculation in the elf's voice, and she can't not show her interest in learning things from Ulreth, before hearing the man out.
"How did all happened?"
Rhoreen offers her condolences, and stands with Emilia as others describe what they had found. She will fill in details, but will be more concerned with supporting rather than explaining the details of the bad news. Details would not help now, and only time would ease the grief.
She will stay until Emilia has had her questions answered and seems progressing in her grief. Then she will return home to prepare for tomorrow...for revenge on those that lead to this outcome.