Brijetta isn't able to glean much insight about the redcaps, but luckily the rest of you seem to know what to do. Both Gig and Mal impress the fey with their fast-talking and anatomical knowledge, while they laugh at Uhe's theft and charming return of their fellow's cap.
"Okay, okay. You guys are amusing enough! We'll let you in for 5 gp each. Or, if you can beat two of our kind in a duel, we'll let you in for free!"
Brijetta continues to keep quiet in the back, seeing if she can understand what else these redcaps might want besides gold or blood.
"Oh, I'm afraid it's much to dangerous for us to be dueling! Would it even be a fair fight?" Gig leaves up if it would be unfair for the redcaps or for the party!
Uhe puts on his mean face!
I say sumting funny? Sumting I said amused chew? Funny how?
"Oh, I'd rather not, the last time there was so much blood and sizzling. Couldn't we just talk instead?"
Unfortunately, despite your best efforts, you are unable to make any further progress with the redcaps before they run out of patience. "That's our final offer. Either pay 5 gp for each of you, or beat two of us in a fight if you wanna get inside!"
"OK, I think I have that much," Brijetta says, digging in her nearly empty purse.
"Err... I reckon that seems... fair?"
Uhe eagerly reaches into his purse to toss the 5gp through the window....
"Well, here you are." Gig pays over the toll.
After collecting the gold, the redcaps wave you through the Walker's Gate and into the Court of Ether. The Court of Ether is divided, both by station and function, into two areas: the Upper and Lower Courts. The Upper Court is composed of the upper levels of platforms and stalactites near the ceiling of the Endless Gulf; these areas have few walkways or ladders, catering to the flying fey who comprise most of the inhabitants.
The Lower Court is much more accessible. The Walker’s Gate bridges the city to the cavern’s edge, Bottom Feeder’s provides lodging to foot traffic, the Ethereal Market sells countless oddities, and residences are interspersed across various levels connected by walkways. Both practically and by custom, non-flying visitors aren’t welcome in the Upper Court.
At the city’s center stretches the largest stalactite, which houses Queen Frilogarma’s palace. Connected to the Lower Court by an elegant walkway, most of the Queen’s entourage remain on the higher levels to avoid interruptions from wingless inhabitants.
Fey of all sorts move about the city. The majority of them seem to be gremlins of various varieties, but there are also a sizable population of redcaps and pixies.
Brijetta seems to shrink into herself even more than usual. "There are so many people here. Do you think they'll let us into the queen's palace?"
Uhe stumbles about the street awes and bullied by the enormous complexity of the fey cavern. The dwarf trips, stutters and drops his hat many times as the group slowly advances toward the center of it all.
Why are we here again...
"We need to find out information about the great worm that swallowed the relic!" Gig reminds everyone. "Do you think the palace is the best way to go? I don't think it's wise to tangle with the queen--or even meet her! Her guards were bad enough."
Gig looks out over the city. "Maybe we can visit one of the areas damaged by the worm and see if there are workers making repairs. We can entertain them and ply them for gossip."
Mal brightens. "That's a great idea, Gig!" Anything to put off meetin' the queen!
You head to the damaged parts of the city and ask around. Eventually, your inquiries direct you to a nuglub gremlin named Zeevu with a sinister sense of humor. Her idea of humor involves pushing travelers into chasms, bullying other gremlins, and gathering blackmail on neighbors. Understandably, she’s not popular. Yet, there’s no denying she’s well-informed.
When you get to her, the short, hairy gremlin insists on talking business at eye-level, meaning you'll need to stoop to meet her hunched gaze evenly. "Yeah? Whatcha' wanna know, exactly?" she asks, picking her sharp teeth with a long, crooked fingernail.
"We heard that you're the best-informed gremlin in the city, and we're looking for information about the great worm that attacked," Gig flatters the nuglub. "In particular, we're trying to figure out why it attacked, and where it headed after it left the city."
Brijetta shrinks back slightly behind Mal, happy to let Gig talk. His words are so smooth, she's almost tempted to answer ... if only she knew what to tell him.
Uhe feels like he should tell Gig everything.....
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Zeevu had been planning on asking you to perform some sort of cruel prank in order to gain her favor, but after speaking with Gig for a few minutes, the bard's overwhelming charisma wins her over!
The cave worm cult is such a dangerous topic because it tried to overthrow Queen Frilogarma a decade ago. The coup failed—violently—yet the fact that an uprising happened at all was practically unheard of. The common assumption is that declaring cult affiliation paints a target on the speaker. An enemy of the cult might earn the queen’s approval, but it would be a delicate negotiation.
Zeevu suggests the nameless ysoki camping outside the city might know more information if you can earn his trust. Fortunately, you know how to do that: find the satyr Garphinollo and convince him to return the ysoki's stolen reputation.
Also, the gremlin is so taken by Gig, she offers him a necklace of fireballs I as a parting gift!
"Well! That was quite a pleasant conversation," Gig remarks as they leave Zeevu's lair. "Don't know why she has such a nasty reputation."
He fastens on the necklace and leads the group to find a satyr.
"Does she know where to find Garphinollo?" Brijetta wonders aloud.
"You're sure you know how the explodin' necklace goes off though, aren't you Gig?"
Uhe is seen tiptoeing about after Gig puts on the necklace of fireball....
"It looks great, that's for sure!" Gig beams.
Zeevu can direct you to the Ethereal Market, where Garphinollo plys his trade. The Ethereal Market is the city’s bazaar that corkscrews up and down a stalactite. The satyr smiles as you approach. "Hello, mortals, hello! Have something you're willing to do without? A bad memory, perhaps, or the ability to see the color blue? Why not trade it for a useful enchanted object? Take a look at my wares."
Several eclectic curios are on display. Despite their strange appearance, the items seem unsettlingly compelling. Surely there's something here that you need...
Gig puts a hand on his new necklace.
No, no reason to be greedy.
He forces his gaze off of the enticing goods and meets the satyr's eye.
"We're actually looking for something in particular: The name and reputation of a ysoki merchant; we met him outside of the city."
Brijetta nods, though she's sure this isn't going to go well. This satyr sounds even less trustworthy than most she's heard of in stories.
"An' it has to be his original name and reputation. No scrapin' up what he's cobbled together."
Uhe begins to casually peruse the proffered wares. The dwarf purposefully not actually touching anything but ooos and ahhhs are emitted at the appropriate points of presentation.
And what prey tale would a Satyr such as yourself like more than a stringy ysoki's name and rep?
The satyr laughs malevolently. "Ah, yes. One of my favorite trades! His reputation as a beloved merchant is now my own, as you can see. I am Cadji now, you see, not him, and all the mercantile goodwill he had built up has been afforded to myself. Why surrender such a delightful prize?"
"Oh, so you like being a merchant?" Gig questions. "It seems like it would be very dull, to me. The same stall every day? And just trying to talk people into bargains? I need more variety in my life."
"Oh! We know his name now," Brijetta exclaims excitedly.
”It’s been quite fun so far, actually,” the satyr formerly known as Graphinollo replies with a grin.
"But isn't that cheating?" Brijetta does not prove very helpful talking to the satyr. "And don't you want people to know your name?"
Uhe begins rolling up his sleeves!
Listen to me, Graphinollo. We have been poked, prodded, pelted, pushed, pulled, purposefully postponed in our purpose and probably placed on the fey most easily manipulated. All we need is the information on the stupid dragon worm thing and to do that bullshit, we need that fart smelling idiots name and rep back!
The Investigator seems a bit on edge...
"Oh really, have you paid your taxes yet? And I hear that the Queen is about to raise tariffs on all non-fey goods, including intangibles like the names of mundane creatures." Gig wags his chin.
"I suppose some people like that sort of thing. Double entry bookkeeping, payment ledgers, inkstained fingers...I've never gone for it myself. I'd rather be putting on a theatrical production!"
"Don't look at me! Not like I can figure out why anyone would set themselves up to live behind a shop counter."
The satyr seems unmoved by your initial pleas. But then Uhe unleashes all his frustration and rage upon the merchant. His eyes widen and his ears go flat. "Hey, hey! Okay, alright! No need for violence, yes? I renounce the identity of Cadji! I restore to him his name and reputation!"
The air shimmers with power, and the satyr sighs and slumps his shoulders. "There. It's done. Now leave me alone!"
Indeed, when you return to Cadji, the ysoki is overjoyed. "You did it, friends! I remember who I am, and with that, I can start up a business once again. Thank you."
He offers you 50 gp in store credit, in addition to some information about the Cult of the Worm. A few months ago, the cult stole something powerful from Queen Frilogarma, and the cult has leveraged this victory to attract new followers. Exactly who is part of the cult is secret, yet almost everyone knows someone they suspect of joining. Nobody wants to ask too many questions, though; accusations could summon the queen’s wrath.
Cadji suspects that Pheargas, a leprechaun and co-owner of Bottom Feeder's tavern, knows more, but getting him to share it with you may prove difficult.
"Off to a tavern! I suppose there are worse places to investigate," Gig says. "Maybe they will even be in need of entertainment."
Uhe pulls out a clean handkerchief, pats his perspiring forehead and grins meekly.
Excuse me. Had a hot chili for breakfast.
The Investigator does begin writing down the information on the leprechaun.
You head to Bottom Feeder's. A series of dilapidated buildings jut from a large stalactite as if impaled by the stone. Windows emit some of the only warm-colored light in the city, and the music emanating from within seems calm and collected compared to the din of nearby markets. A sign above the entrance features a catfish with enormous whiskers and a pair of legs protruding from its closed mouth.
The owner of the tavern, a kobold named Meltek, introduces you to Pheargas after a few minutes of pleasant conversation. Wizened and wry, Pheargas nurses a drink as he regards you sleepily. When you ask about the Cult of the Worm, though, his sleepy demeanor vanishes, his eyes flaring excitedly with green light.
"Aha, a story! A story you’re seeking, eh? Can’t ask for a tale without trading one of your own!" He bounces in his seat, sporting a grin that’s equally mischievous and eager. "Tell a story of yourself, and I’ll tell one of my own." He chuckles, barking, "A fight of fables, an arena of anecdotes, a tussle with tales—the first move’s yours, stranger!"
"I come from far away," Brijetta relates her origin, [smaller]"from Alkenstar, originally. My mother fled with me when my uncle -- a wonderful dwarf, though he did curse a lot and sometimes, OK a lot of times, took things that weren't his -- got in trouble with another bad guy. And then stared working for the duchess, and then told us we had to run before the entire city blew up. So then I grew up in Highhelm before I came here."
As Pheargas seems interested, she elaborates on the escapades of her beloved Uncle Royken, dropping a surprising amount of swears into the telling, though they continue to be in the quiet manner the dwarven lass usually speaks with, somehow making them all the more incongruous.
Gig is in his element here. He regales the leprechaun with the story of the founding of Highhelm, a performance that he has honed in preparation for the city's festival.
Uhe looks on as the others professionally profess projects particularly prize winning. The Investigator takes a sip of whiskey before nervously clearing his throat.
Four score and seven years ago ...
Concentrate Investigator
Source Advanced Player's Guide pg. 56 2.0
Frequency once per 10 minutes
Trigger Another creature attempts a check to investigate a lead you're pursuing.
You share information with the triggering creature. They gain a circumstance bonus to their check equal to your circumstance bonus to checks investigating your subject from Pursue a Lead. The GM can add any relevant traits to this reaction depending on the situation, such as auditory and linguistic if you're conveying information verbally.
Uhe gives a thumbs up.
After you've told your tales, Pheargas shrugs and cracks his neck. "Let me tell you my tale now. I was born in a darkened glen, a patch of earth where sunlight barely kissed the soil. There, I lay like a winter turnip, nestled deep in shadow, when one fateful day, the ground trembled, and I was plucked from my slumber. Up I popped, blinking against the light, and before I knew it, I was in the presence of nine exquisite naiads, each one more enchanting than the last. They danced by the banks of their enchanted rivers, where the waters shimmered with the colors of dreams.
“'Ah, little sprout,' they cooed, their voices like a sweet breeze through the trees. 'Come, let us teach ye the art of song!' And oh, how I yearned to sing! With their guidance, I learned melodies that could soothe the fiercest storm and charm the most stubborn of stones. Each river held its own secret, and I soaked in their songs, my heart swelling with joy.
"But alas, paradise has its price! Curiosity gnawed at my little heart, a restless itch that begged me to venture beyond the shimmering banks. 'What lies beyond?' I pondered. 'What wonders await?' So, one bright morn, with a song on my lips and a twinkle in my eye, I bid farewell to the naiads and wandered forth.
"Oh, how foolish I was! The world outside was a tapestry of chaos and color, a cacophony that drowned out the sweet songs of my rivers. I marveled at strange beasts, fierce warriors, and the tales of adventurers whose laughter rang like a distant bell. But as I danced through thickets and over hills, I felt the melodies of my naiads fade like mist in the morning sun. Days turned to weeks, and with each new sight, the songs grew fainter, a bittersweet echo in my heart.
"And so here I am now. That paradise where I once dwelled is forever lost to me."
Pheargas pauses to finish his beer, gesturing for Meltek to bring another one. "So you see, friends, mundanity has no place in this contest. My next challenge for you is to share a tale to spawn a thousand nightmares!"
"I call this story, 'The Tale of the Trapped Soul,' a spine-chilling true account of terror!" Gig begins dramatically. "There was once an ordinary dagger, beautiful of form, with mighty enchantments upon it. It's pommel held a beautiful gem. Little did anyone guess that that jewel could catch more than the eye..."
The story of the soul trapped in the pommel jewel, so recently experienced by the party.
Pheargas listens intently, responding with appreciative yelps before sharing his own tale.
"This is the tale of a forgotten Tane, a behemoth of the First World, known as the Velkenndr. A creature so vast, it was said the very hills trembled at its approach, and its breath could turn fields to ash.
"Once upon a time, in the quaint village of Gallowmere, folk lived with a gnawing fear. They whispered of the Velkenndr, a creature whose insatiable hunger was rivaled only by its appetite for the brave. None dared to venture beyond the bounds of their homesteads, lest they be caught in its gaping maw, devoured whole in a single, terrifying gulp.
"But here’s the twist, my fine listeners. The villagers, in their trembling hearts, were already ensnared. You see, the Velkenndr didn’t roam the earth anymore. Its immense form lay slumbering beneath the very ground they tilled and called home. Its belly was the village itself, its insides a twisted, dark labyrinth where forgotten souls wove their lives, blind to the truth.
"Oh, how they toiled and labored, thinking they were free, never suspecting they were but sustenance to a sleeping giant. They crafted their homes from the very sinew of the Velkenndr’s belly, weaving tales of bravery to distract from their grim reality. 'Beware the beast,' they warned their children, while unwittingly raising them within its insatiable depths.
"It was a moonless night when the village elder, an old crone with a voice like crackling leaves, dared to speak the unspeakable. 'We are bound to the Velkenndr,' she rasped, her eyes wide with the knowledge she could no longer contain. 'It feasts on our fear, and we shall never know freedom.'
"Panic rippled through the villagers like the wind through the trees. But where could they flee? They were born in the shadow of the Velkenndr, cradled by its hunger. The weight of the truth crushed their spirits as surely as the belly of the beast crushed their homes.
"As the elder’s words settled into their bones, they heard a low rumble beneath their feet. The Velkenndr stirred, roused by their despair. A quaking tremor passed through the ground, and the village shook as if caught in a storm. The villagers froze, the realization dawning upon them—they were not afraid of the creature lurking in the dark; they were already within it, prisoners of a fate they could not escape.
"And in that final moment of understanding, the Velkenndr opened its maw wide, the blackness within yawning like the void of forgotten dreams. It swallowed their screams and their hopes, content in the knowledge that even in its eternal slumber, it had claimed yet another feast."
Pheargas goes quiet again, draining another flagon. "Well, now. After that tale, I think something more upbeat would be welcome. Tell me a tall tale of your own heroism! And don't be shy! Embellish, my friends!"
Uhe blushes at the words Tale of Heroism . The Investigator smiles weakly before turning to someone a bit more...heroic.
"Oh! Oh! I've got one! Have you heard of Diomira's Drop? A plunge of more than a hundred feet down a slick, treacherous cliff, and one only attempted by the bravely foolhardy, or I suppose some who're in dire need of a good whetstone. Anyhow, the climb'd be hard enough without a rope, but Diomira like the name of the drop, she made it all they way down, hand by hand to prove her love an' her worth to her beloved.
"Now, I didn't have true love tampin' down the path, but it still seemed like a good idea at the time, an' I even got a free kebab out of it. No rope, no pitons, no spells, no nothin' but my hands grippin' every crack an' crevice for all I'm worth, got more'n halfway down 'fore I just decided to kick off the wall an' take a proper shortcut!"