Before anyone else can attack Black, Desmond grabs them.
Desmond grabs hold of one of the intruders, while Deerslicer pins another to the wall and Mrs. Crinkle savages that one.
At this they surrender.
With the fight over, a pair of kobolds approach and lead the party through a bewildering set of tunnels to an area of the lair that seems much more well-kept, and then through an actual door set in the stone. A small breeze flows throughout the spacious cavern beyond from ventilation sources somewhere near the distant ceiling. Glowing crystals embedded in the walls shed a soft light over fine furniture of all sizes, with sets of tea and various delicacies artfully arranged on lavish tables to accommodate guests. (Purepurin may come across as a scatterbrained incompetent, but she clearly knows something about hosting high-level visits.) At the tallest wall is a large hearth carved by nature’s work, surrounded by ritual items and bursting with a twisting cerulean flame.
Purepurin stands before the hearth, struggling with a pair of tongs to adjust the hippogriff in a jar into the center of a mass of bright blue coals. The Pathfinder Society’s bundled gifts to Valashinaz sit on a small table beside her, ready to be presented, and the ghost courier fulu is plastered onto the wall. The kobold turns as she hears company arrive, nearly swinging the jar out of the flames as she shouts, “You’re just in time!”
She hurriedly takes the jug of fond remembrance from the party, uncorks it, and pours the contents into a series of connected ceramic saucers on a metal tray, which she slides into a compartment under the flames. As steam rises from the liquid, the color of the fire changes from blue to a deep gold.
The jar set within the golden flames cracks open and the fulu evaporates into a mist that swirls down into the hearth. A dark shape emerges, twisting and stretching as it grows. Smoke coalesces into the sinuous shape of a dragon that stretches out to fill the empty spaces of the cavern. A cold, ancient face forms from the vapor, misty scales rippling into place as a rumbling voice echoes out.
“Purepurin, you called?” The unspoken question ”Why?” hangs in the air, implicit in the dragon’s tone.
“Yes, ma’am!” Purepurin stands straight, tail twitching nervously. The enormous smoky image of Valashinaz, powerful, lithe, and nowhere near full size, peers down coolly. “You see, there’s been a bit of a scheduling mishap! These nice adventurers have brought you a gift from, uh...”
Purepurin glances over and gestures, whispering, “Introduce yourselves! Tell her why you’re here!”
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Nikma attempts to take a humble tone in front of the dragon, which isn't typical for him. He does, however, have respect for such a powerful creature and he is in awe of the dragon. He takes several moments to start speaking.
I am Nikma, and these are my companions. We are all of the Pathfinder Society and our duty was to make introductions with you.
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In awe of the presence of the mighty dragon, even if she’s not really there Eldryon stands speechless for a few seconds, which is quite rare for her, before getting back her thoughts.
My humble greetings mighty Valashinaz. I’m Eldryon Spearheaven a forensic expert in life and as my comrade says we are members of the Pathfinder Society, an organization from Absalom but with lodges all around Golarion and here in Goka. We have been sent, with gifts, by one of the member of the Decemvirat, the body leading the Society, to make contact through your obligé Purpurin with you .
The Society will be blessed and honored if you could consider the making of an alliance between your organization and ours.
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Desmond looks at the dragon in fear that it could wipe them out in a single stroke. He bows his head. "My name is Desmond. I serve as a medic to these Pathfinders. They can often find themselves in dire trouble as they explore. It's my job to make sure they come out the other end. I'm a healer; that's my first duty. I will not raise a weapon."
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Mrs. Crinkle tries valiantly to hide her snicker when Desmond says it's his "job to make sure they come out the other end", and almost succeeds. If this chat goes sideways, we'll be coming out that dragon's other end! Forcing her face into a respectful expression, she bows her head before introducing herself. "Mrs. Crinkle, at your service." For once, she shows the wisdom of self-restraint.
“So, you see, boss, it would be really great if you could come back in time for the meeting! I’m sure these nice Pathfinder ladies are going to be here soon, and it’d be a shame if we couldn’t have our talk with them after they’ve brought you such a nice gift.” Purepurin grins at her mistress, all teeth. The smoky vision of Valashinaz weaves throughout the room, eying each individual creature with measured scrutiny before settling in front of the kobold.
“Very well, my steward. I’ll return shortly. Pathfinders, my thanks for your generous gifts. I promise to have an open mind about your Society. Purepurin…after the meeting, we should discuss…schedule management.” Valashinaz’s misty face stretches into a long, lazy smile as the smoke evaporates, swirling back into the hearth and snuffing out the fire. The room dims and Purepurin heaves a sigh of relief.
“The boss isn’t the late type, so we should be seeing her pretty soon. I’ll get someone to freshen the tea and make sure the snacks haven’t dried out, and we can go meet your bosses. Sound good?”
Purepurin ushers you back to the entrance to the lair just in time to greet Venture-Captain Yi Da Som and the Waterall. The kobold bows nearly double as she thanks the two for sending the party, fulsomely praising you for your invaluable assistance in helping clear the vaults of vermin (four-legged and otherwise). (She tactfully omits anything about her scheduling error.) Da Som assures her that the Society is always available if she needs help again. The Waterfall, enigmatic behind her mask, observes that the party may be assigned to negotiate with a friendly local goblin tribe, turning her head briefly towards Mrs. Crinkle as she speaks.
The sun is suddenly blotted out by a vast winged form, the dragon Valashinaz descending to her lair. The Venture-Captain smiles. ”Right on time. You should return to the Lantern Lodge–you look like you could use a rest. We should be fine here. Excellent work, Pathfinders!”