Ardoinel, seeing Cerrus fall, rushes over to grab him and drag him away from the rampaging beast.
"DISTRACT IT!" he yells.
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Ardoinel is reactive enough to grab Cerrus and run out of the way, but Netkin quickly figures out that Zeldones and Resa are not paying attention to his gesticulating. The good thing is, the graudalon isn't either.
The bomb in his hand lets out a faint noise, like a very small, overheating teapot. If he waits for any longer, it will fizzle out.
This will require careful aiming.
"Well, here goes nothing," he mutters under his breath. His teeth instinctively clench when he throws the vial.
As soon as the mud drake collapses into a burning corpse, Ellaeaanda strides over to Cerrus with light elven feet. Using the healer’s toolkit on her belt, she quickly uses a bandage to try to help staunch the man’s bleeding.
Still cognizant of the threat to the goblins above, she looks up and calls out to the halfling above. “To delve below you must descend.” She gestures at the rope, indicating that the halfling should climb down to join them, then looks down meaningfully at Cerrus. “He knows the dungeons you seek. Save him to save his knowledge.”
Resa breathes out heavily as the monster fell, and then realized quickly she had forgotten her companions to a degree. She had even let Cerrus fall I battle, and she was sure she could have done more to help. She watches the elder elf work, trying to figure out how to connect more with her past but clearly not wishing to ask. She seconds the opinion "You saving him could also be the thing that turns the goblins to help you. They do not deserve to be terrorized."
" Then when he dies, and you know nothing, it will confirm you a fool. I thought your kind were smart and well planning folks." Reas tries to be a bit more brave than normal, feeling a bit of a rush from the death of the monster. She still kept an eye out for that fire elemental just incase it did attack them.
Ardoinel grabs the potion he saved, opens Cerrus' mouth and begins trickling it down his throat.
"Careful, careful, can't let him aspirate it..." he says to himself.
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Netkin blinks as the graudalon curls up in a burning heap. "Oh. That actually worked.[/smaller" He wished he'd feel happier about it. But seeing that dragon-like creature meet so undignified an end just seemed... Sad.
It was his first time out of Breachhill, and already Netkin was feeling uneasy about his impact on the local fauna.
"I thought your kind were smart and well planning folks".
"Oh - thank you!" Netkin goes a little rosy-cheeked. "But don't have us confused, I'm the doctor... Sort of," he adds in a little too quickly. He kneels besides Ardoinel.
[smaller]"I can make more healing potions," he takes out his reagents. "Ah - don't worry, these won't explode! Unless we get some more time to patch these things up manually... I don't have that much ingredients left..."
He squints at the halfling standing on the battlements. "Are you the one who started a fire back in Breachhill?" he calls out. "That wasn't very..." he hesitates. "Well, that wasn't very nice."
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“The truth is in his tome,” Ellaeaanda nods at the book lying in the hand of her fallen companion as she placidly responds to the raving halfling’s angry suspicions. She walks slowly towards the stairs leading back to the auditorium; along the way, she speaks in a soft voice meant for the party’s ears only.
Her gaze flicks meaningfully towards the thick rope that affords access to the wooden stairs leading up to the battlements where the goblins are.
Just before the auditorium doors the elf stops. With her longbow held loosely in one hand, she simply watches from her elevated vantage point on the stairs, ready to act in case of hostilities. For now, she splits her attention between the halfling and the fire elemental.
Zeldones brushes the still-burning droplets off of his shirt. Have to get that mended soon. Could've been much worse, though...oops, don't think about that too hard. The magus turns a little green around the gills as he contemplates the creature's fangs and macelike tail.
"Good work, Netkin. Your own control of fire is admirable. I can learn a lot from you, I imagine," Ardoinel says with a nod. Once Cerrus awakens, he stands and goes over to join Ellaeaanda looking up at the man they'd tracked here.
"Who even ARE you?!" he calls up to them.
Resa listens to Ellaeaanda speak, and part of her knows she should understand the language, but the shifting of her face and the confusion that quickly crosses gives away she didn't understand a word that was said. But given her general tone and the halfing refusing to put the goblin down, she makes a play that could help the party.
"Here, let me come up there and help you then. I alone will. You can see that it took all of us to harm this creature. One of us alone should be no problem, and then you have me as a bargain tool as well yes?"
And Resa will move towards the rope, and start to come up it slowly.
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"Good work, Netkin. Your own control of fire is admirable. I can learn a lot from you, I imagine"
Netkin is now distinctively blushing. "Oh, thank you! Had a bit more luck than with electricity, I had... There's really not much to it," he babbles.
"I still have them. The goblins know the way down, and if they don’t tell me, she bites the dust."
Netkin considers this for a moment. There must be a flaw in that logic, he's pretty sure. "And then... What? You face off the other goblins? Alone?" he lets out a small, nervous chuckle. "After killing one of their kind? Are - I'm not sure that will go well?"
"We care because someone summoned fire scamps to set the Breachhill Town Hall aflame right in the middle of the Call for Heroes. All evidence points to a halfling whose tracks we've followed all the way to this Citadel, and since Netkin here was inside the Hall in full view of everyone when the fire started, unless there's some other halfling up there you're the prime suspect," Ardoinel calls up. "Besides, the Call for Heroes was a plea from Warbal Bumblebrasher to answer the Bumblebrashers' signal for help. We're the Heroes. We've answered the Call. Your plan is in shambles and if you harm any of those goblins you'll have to answer for it, if not from us, then from them to avenge their kin. What other options do you have? We're offering you a great deal of mercy, and depending on what your need to venture deeper into the Citadel is, we might even help you. But we can't do that if you force a fight. Please...see reason."
“Her death is your death,” Ellaeaanda responds calmly to the halfling’s threat. She seems entirely unperturbed by how the conversation is progressing—to her, it doesn’t matter whether the halfling becomes friendly or remains hostile, so long as he keeps talking and is distracted from harming the goblin woman, and from her allies climbing up to the battlements.
When Ardoinel mentions that the halfling is the prime suspect, however, she chimes in. “The only suspect. The footprints match his feet, and the scamp above matches those at the Call.” She nonchalantly raises her longbow and fits an arrow loosely to the bowstring, acting as a threatening stick to make the dwarf’s carrot more appealing. It is quite clear that if the arsonist so much as scratches the goblin she will fire.
Without shifting her gaze she calls out to the goblins, who are likely more forthcoming.
Resa was moved jg to climb until that warning was shouted out, and she paused, hand reaching out towards the rope. She looks back to the group, but mostly to Ellaeaanda for some direction, as the elder elf would know more about this than her. She didn't know anyone by that name, so she wasn't sure she could push this.
"Look, I can come up unarmed, would that help? I... I just... I just don't think anyone needs to be harmed here. Let us help each other out, and you explain to us want you.. want? Need? Why are you trying to go down?"
Resa would make a show of good faith if taking out her starknife, the same weapon she had used to fight with, and placing it and the sheath on the ground near the rope, appearing to be unarmed now.
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When the halfling shifts to a more reasonable tone, Ellaeaanda slowly lowers her longbow. “Death achieves nothing. You hear but do not listen. The goblins know not the way. Your threats are flames in a library, destroying your goal in vain. Cerrus,” she glances over at the thaumaturge and his hefty tome, “is the light you seek. Tell him about the gates and ring.”
The elf does not seem to notice Resa’s unstated plea for guidance, but instead returns her attention to the goblins.
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Cerrus coughs up some of the healing potion and wipes his chin before standing up. "Huh, what did I miss? I think I heard some mention of my book." The coughing fit continues for a moment before he clears his lungs. "Now I sound like Ardoinel..." He grabs his sword and tome, and stands up in a single motion.
His eyes focus on his surroundings in quick succession: the fallen graudalon, the fire elemental, the halfling, and the goblin with a knife at their throat. In an instant, Cerrus shakes off the fog that briefly set in while he was unconscious. "There is no need for more bloodshed. Enough has been spilled already, especially mine. Put down the knife and we can talk."
"Who's Lirayne?" Ardoinel shouts up to the halfling. "What do you mean 'gates?' Ellaeaanda's right: you are digging your shaft down the wrong slope, away from the vein! If the Bumblebrashers had the information you need, they'd have given it to you by now. They do not know what you're talking about, and for that matter, neither do we! None of us understand, and we're not going to be able to unless you tell us what in Hell is going on! Slag, we don't even know who you ARE!"
"Please, tell me your name. Mine's Ardoinel, of the clan Oreflame."
Zeldones waits, tapping one foot surreptitiously.
"No, can't say that I do. But if they're that valuable, why would you expect the Bumblebrashers to sit on them and not try to take advantage? They clearly don't know about them. If you free their chief, though, I'm sure we can work something out."
Though her long ears twitch with obvious interest—and disdain—when elf gates are mentioned, Ellaeaanda otherwise ignores the halfling. Perhaps she has given up on him as a lost cause, or perhaps she is more interested in what the goblins have to say. In any case, she placidly continues her conversation in goblin.
Ardoinel
”That’s an interesting name for a dwarf. But never mind my name, the only thing that matters are the elf gates under the citadel. Elf. Gates. You have any idea how valuable those would be?”
"My mother's an elf. So yes, I do understand a bit of how valuable aiudara are. Especially since you said 'gates.' Plural. Most aiudara are singular locations, even in Iadara itself. So are you some sort of explorer? Seeking to map their locations and profit from the discovery? A Pathfinder looking to immortalize your name through it? I can understand your excitement to get there first, but working alone, threatening the locals, and arson to cover your tracks are making you desperate, and that's going to get you killed one way or another. If you're right, and the aiudara lie below the citadel, then if this grauladon was any indication, there may be greater dangers below that you won't be able to handle on your own. Hops and water is not beer. Let us be the yeast."
At the mention of elf gates, Cerrus pages through his tome furiously, hoping to jog his memory on the topic.
In response to the halfling's question about answers in the tome, Cerrus says "My tome holds many answers, and quite possibly the answers you seek. But I cannot properly consult my book when possible violence is so close at hand. Disarm yourself and we can possibly find answers together.
Now that she has enough information to see a picture, Ellaeaanda shares what she has learned in goblin-speak with the others. “The halfling is a raindrop in a storm, a single cough within a plague.” Her gaze drifts into the reddish smoke rising from the signal bonfire. “The disease is a cult that attacks the root of the castle, bringing false dragons” here she gestures at the grauladon “and driving the goblins from their home below.” She seems troubled by the news. “Dark days when aiudara carry plague.”
Trusting in her more diplomatic companions to continue their success with Calmont, the elf resumes her conversation with the now relieved and jubilant Bumblebrashers.
Ellaeaanda slowly walks forward to the mound of rubble and examines the reptilian creature crushed beneath.
Ardoinel breathes a sigh of relief as the halfling releases his hostage.
"Thank you. Can we come up there? We want to make sure the Bumblebrashers are okay."
Confident that the situation is no longer so tense, Cerrus also sheathes his own sword and pages through his tome. "Now, where was that map?" Without takes his eyes from the book, Cerrus gestures vaguely in the direction of the halfling. "Ah, here it is. See, I came across an old book about the citadel and copied down a sketch of the building. Supposedly, there is a level or two underneath our feet. Who knows how accurate the map is now, so many years later."
Cerrus then looks up and meets the halfling's gaze. "My name is Cerrus. What is yours?"
Zeldones and Ardoinel
”I suppose you are right,” says Calmont. ”Worthless goblins, I should have looked for a way to the ring on my own. Have the goblins.”
"Thank you," Ardoinel calls up. "Is there a safe way to get them down here, or that we can come up there? It's a little awkward yelling this conversation back and forth."
Ellaeaanda gazes thoughtfully at the second grauladon, wondering from whence it came, especially in connection with the Cinderclaws cult.
Where are the Cinderclaws headquartered?
She seems unconcerned by the distance between themselves and the goblins and Calmont, for she continues talking with Helba as casually as if they were sitting next to each other at a tavern. “Which parts of this citadel has your tribe visited? Where do you make your home now?” Now that the tension has been defused, the elf slowly walks over to Cerrus and, without a word, rummages through her healer’s toolkit and starts bandaging his nasty-looking wounds.
Resa was lost in the conversations happening in a language she was unsure of, but after a few minutes it switches to Common again. She knew Common, so she was able to join in finally. She does try to get a word in about things, but is quickly out of her depth when the subject of elf gates come up. She had no idea about them, nor even heard of them, and so could offer nothing to these talks.
" I am Resa, it is nice to meet you Calmont, atleast to a certain degree. Why did you try to kill everyone at the meeting hall? That was not nice. It is much easier to figure things out as a group. Let us help each other, and perhaps we can maybe do something about you setting the fire."
“Only the aiudara matter.” In her vague way, Ellaeaanda agrees with Resa that Calmont’s crimes are not the most important matter right now. “From tropical swamps and jungles the mud drakes come—what else might the aiudara bring? Come, let us find out.” This invitation includes Calmont as well, but not the ignorant goblins, whom she advises to remain behind for their own safety—she doesn’t want to risk another hostage situation should Calmont’s demeanor regress. “Helba, rest and remain. Care for your people and your dogs.” With that, the elf moves back into the auditorium, ready to resume their exploration of the rest of the citadel.
"As I said, my source was an old map so the information is not guaranteed to be accurate. My research indicates there is a main hall connected to a central hallway. Other rooms are set up in two wings: one wing being set up for habitation and the other one being set up for mortuary purposes. I also found a note that there might be a second underground level that is very similar to the first." Cerrus nods to Calmont. "There, now you know what we know. And, well met.
To the main party, Cerrus suggests more time for healing."Let us take a few more minutes patching our wounds before continuing. I am still quite hurt from that terrible drake."
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Netkin snaps his fingers. "Of course! Calmont! I should have guessed." He frowns. "But why would you be interested in elven portals? You sell books. Surely that's aiming, pardon my frankness, but aiming a bit high?"
He somehow manages to look perfectly, earnestly candid as he asks. Whether it's a clever trick to get Calmont to talk or not, it's almost impressive.