The party begins to pull the place apart looking for anything that might provide a clue as to where the cultist might be hiding their hideout. Dorek succeeds where the others fail and finds a small latch on one of the walls in the northeast corner, revealing that it is a door. It leads down into a musty basement:
The air in this basement is damp and musty-smelling. The walls and floor are packed earth, while dozens of gourds hang from the ceiling beams. A sludge of rotting plant matter covers the floor. Against one wall, a wooden table holds a strange apparatus that looks like a clockwork toy of a snake-bodied, six-armed woman holding a sword in each hand. A tightly corked bottle, filled with what looks like water, sits before the statue. A wooden chest covered with engraved runes stands under the table, and a sinister image of a star surrounding a goat’s face is painted on the wall above the table.
While the others find the way down, Thawm heals.
Thawm doesn't recognize the doubtlessly vile symbols...
Ahmose walks boldly up to the six-armed statue. The Blue-scaled Kobold sticks his tongue out at her.
As Dorek's probing blade clicks against the latch and the wall swings open, he raises his eyebrows, descending into the basement. Glancing around the cramped space, he scoffs, nodding at the statue on the table. "Only one g-goddess? Not much of a s-shrine, is it?" As Ahmose meddles with the idol, Dorek kneels by the table, pulling the rune-covered chest out into the center of the room and examining it carefully, trying to recall if the sigils on the chest are at all similar to the arcane wards used by the Locksmith's Guild.
As he works, he glances at Ahmose, opening his mouth to address the kobold - thinking better of it, he turns to a more responsible friend instead. "Hey, T-tandyn, do you k-know anything about that symbol? Or that g-goddess there?
"Good eyes, Dorek. Now let's be careful, I doubt they like visitors."
Tandyn casts detect magic and follows him down the stairs.
"Hey, T-tandyn, do you k-know anything about that symbol? Or that g-goddess there?
"A star and goat? Baphomet. As for the statue... I'm not sure. It could be a demon of some sort. This floor is awful, any idea what that's about?"
"I concur, Sir Tandyn. Baphomet."
He looks at the bottle of liquid in front of the statue.
"I hope you know what you are doing, Ahmose..."
Ahmose turns his blue draconian eyes to Aroden.
Know what I'm doing? Guess that definitely depends on what I am doing.
The Alchemist then begins to study the sludge of rotting plant matter covering the floors.
The Trap Breaker then carefully examined the ugly statue for sweet, sweet secret compartments, traps and fun shananagins.
As Ahmose and Dorek step within 15 feet of the table the sigil of Baphomet begins to pronounce, ”Ahh… I hope you are among Iomadae’s slaves… I would hate to think of mere peasants wasting such a personal greeting from Lord Baphomet!” The statue begins to click as hidden clockwork mechanisms begin to raise the sword arms. Dorek realizes they have only moments to act, the statue is going to smash the bottle!
Dorek jerks back as the profane iconography of the room reveals itself to be an elaborate trap, his tail darting forward to snag the bottle from its intricate stand as he fumbles with his locksmiths' tools, trying to stow them and draw his short swords.
"Eep!" Thawm explains as the trap triggers.
Ahmose just stares at the talking statue with contempt.
After Dorek verifies its safe he opens the chest to find a note, We
don’t need these anymore, but figured if you survived our surprise, it would be just plain rude to leave behind an empty chest for your troubles! Also in the chest are five holy symbols of Iomadae.
The clockwork device swings it's sword arms anytime anyone says Baphomet near it. The novelty, while clearly heretical, would be worth 250 gp to a collector. It weighs 10 pounds.
Dorek also finds that he has bilious bottle in his hand.
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"There's a note that says they wouldn't want us to leave empty handed? Surely they know about converting enemy assets. How suspicious." Thawm explains as she looks closer at the loot.
"It... it looks... oily? Or sticky maybe?" Thawm explains.
"Tandyn, do clerics of your faith usually oil their holy symbols? I think we should try to wash these off. Without touching them. Or maybe just leave them."
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Cecily takes the stairs with a greater trepidation than anything else she's done today, visibly nervous at every creak of the step.
"This is so similar to where they took me..." her breath trails off as she sees into the larger area.
As the others toss the place with varying amounts of care, Cecily leans against the wall by the stairs, stewing in her own loss, memories, and fears, and waiting to leave this cursed place.
"Tandyn, do clerics of your faith usually oil their holy symbols? I think we should try to wash these off. Without touching them. Or maybe just leave them."
"Well that depends. If it can rust, then it gets oiled like any other sword; but that only takes a drop or two. Hmmm, these don't look right at all. Ahmose, can you tell what's on them?"
Ahmose scoots his draconian head in-between the Paladin and the Oracle to take a closer look at the symbols.
The Alchemist snorts.
The symbols are smeared with malyass root paste, a contact poison. Or they ran out of toilet paper. Either way don't touch, lick or otherwise stir your martini with them.
"That figures. It felt weird when the cultist's letter tried to be polite."
Tandyn uses prestidigitation to clean off the poison.
Thawm shrugs and follows up Tandyn's cleaning with Purify Food and Drink in case that oily stuff was a kind of food.
Cecily sighs grumpily and loudly tromps back upstairs.
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As he narrowly avoids setting off the trap, Dorek breaths a sigh of relief, his tail tucking the strange concoction away in a belt pouch. When the chest opens, he reaches for one of the holy symbols, furrowing his brow in confusion, only to hiss and jerk his hand back at Thawm's words. "G-good - good l-leading with that, Thawm. D-don't touch the g-god symbols, understood." He shrugs, peering closer at the box full of objects as Tandyn purifies it with his magic. "S-strange - that you'd h-have to carry one of these to p-prove your devotion to your g-goddess, I mean. S-sarkorian gods we just t-tell them. Much s-simpler. Don't you have f-fancy god p-palaces and all that? Why can't you just t-tell your gods when they're visiting in their g-god palaces?"
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Aroden rolls his eyes at Dorek's latest rant.
He looks about to speak, then closes his mouth, closes his eyes and shakes his head.
Finally, he says, "I believe we are done here. Let us move on to the Tower of Estrod."
"S-strange - that you'd h-have to carry one of these to p-prove your devotion to your g-goddess, I mean. S-sarkorian gods we just t-tell them. Much s-simpler. Don't you have f-fancy god p-palaces and all that? Why can't you just t-tell your gods when they're visiting in their g-god palaces?"
"Dorek, I appreciate your interest, but that's not really how any of this works for us. Devotion means adherence to a god's teachings, not owning a symbol. Our gods don't come to Golarion themselves without extreme consequences for us and them that are written about for millennia. They have their own planar realms beyond this one that they can alter with a thought. They are extremely powerful and grant some of their divine power to their faithful like Thawm. There's little use telling them things as they will almost certainly already know. There's a lot to talk about, but for now let's get out of this filthy cultist basement. Perhaps we can find a book on it back at the tavern."
Tandyn nods at Aroden. "Onward."
Ahmose shrugs at the all the religion talk. The Alchemist only shoulders his gear and prepares to press forward....
Besides, this Tower of Estrod sounds lucrative.....
Tower of Estrod
This sixty-foot-diameter gray stone tower is missing the bulk of its upper floors—some terrific force smashed its upper sections away, creating huge mound of rubble north of the building and leaving the tower now a mere stump with a jagged top. It used to serve as a library and research laboratory owned by the city, but apparently the cult of the Ivory Labrynth has infiltrated even here.
The front doors are locked
Whistling while taking out his Mutagen , drinking it, burping as he takes out his Thieves Tools, the Trap Breaker smiles. The Blue-scaled Kobold then slaps himself! He turns his blue eyes to Dorek.
Want to tag team it? We can sing The Song if you want?
Ahmose smiles as he begins searching for shananagins.
Ahmose then looks at Dorek.
Whoop! There it is!
As the group approaches the Tower of Estrod, Dorek's eye narrows, and he pulls out his locksmiths' tools as he examines the door critically. "I think I h-heard about the lock here. T-two-part warded - I doubt any of us could r-rake it, but I can c-crack it in... what, six s-seconds? E-eight on a s-slow day." As the half-mad kobold fumbles with the door, Dorek kneels in front of the lock, probing it with his picks. "G-give me a moment..."
As Dorek approaches the Tower of Estrod, he glances nervously up at the heights of the crumbling tower. "T-this was a cultist s-stronghold. It's s-still intact enough, so m-maybe there are some left here? We k-know their pass-phrase, anyway." Squaring his shoulders, he pounds on the door, his talons knocking chips from the aging woodwork. "Anyone left inside? I've new material for the archives!"
Aroden will attempt to Aid Another on the Bluff check, growling in a hideous language.
The doors open revealing four cultists of Baphoment and:
The ground floor of the tower is now open to the air, a tangle of wooden supports above being all that remains of the building’s upper stories. Two rubble-filled pools flank a central walkway that crosses to an open area with a few shelves, a desk and chair, and a flight of stairs leading down.
"Yeah, yeah, I could use charts to make to make it easier to understand." The bored cultist's hand you each a bedroll and a bowl filled with a paltry portion of nearly rotting meat and wilting vegetables.
"Faxon is downstairs, eat, and then he'll want to debrief you. After that you can bunk anywhere here."
"Idiot half-breed scum. Hurry it up. Our Master awaits."
At Aroden's harsh words, Dorek grimaces, but realizing the necessity of the bluff, he glances gratefully at the mage as the door opens.
When the cultists step forward, handing their meager supplies to the group, Dorek nods, his crimson eye flicking down to the rancid food before returning to the staircase at the back of the cultist hideout. "T-the other two s-safe houses are gone, but I need to r-report in to F-faxon - we have v-valuable knowledge of the crusaders' f-fortifications!"
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"Idiot half-breed scum. Hurry it up. Our Master awaits."
A flash of annoyance gives way to confusion, but Cecily catches herself before blurting out too much. She drops back next to Aroden once they have their slop, and she picks it over with mild disgust and whispers to him, "What was that, back there?"
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"What was that, back there?"
"Subterfuge, Cecily. Apologies, Dorek."
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Cecily nods sagely, glad to have a name for the language she knows but doesn't know how she knows.
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Tandyn clenches his spike-gauntlets and quietly resumes the role of templar. He nods at the cultist who hands him the almost spoiled food and finds a bench. For a moment he considers asking Thawm to purify it just in case but thinks better of it. He slowly eats his food while doing his best to avoid actually tasting it. Once done, he stretches and looks expectantly at anyone still eating.
Thawm takes a nibble of some of the wilted vegetables, but can't bring herself to cast any spells to make the rest palatable.
She decides that she isn't hungry and fidgets while Tandyn eats.
Aroden looks at the food.
Perhaps I should tell the cultists that I already feasted on the hearts of our enemies. Too much?
He picks out a fairly decent wilted carrot.
Cecily just pushes the chunks around her bowl and gives everyone else a miserable look.
Dorek takes an experimental bite of the bowl of food. Eh, I've had worse. At least it's not Worldwound-tainted. He continues eating, finishing the bowl before glancing up at the other members of the group.
Ahmose takes the offer of a bedroll and a bowl filled with a paltry portion of nearly rotting meat and wilting vegetables. The Blue-scaled Kobold spits in it.
What the demon piss soup is thus s@+%! You sum f+$!ing low ranking Cultists. Pissants can't even scrounge up sum decent chow! Worthless! Wait til f!!*ing Faxon sees this s%$$!
Ahmose then points out the door.
If I were worthless sacks of meat pudding this s&+#, I would go back out there and find a f!+!ing vulture! Streets are littered with those things. Practically falling from the sky. Good hunting!
The Alchemist snarls at them before sliding in-between Dorek and Cecily going down.....
The cultists are a little taken aback by Ahmose's barrage of expletives, but they don't stop Ahmose or any of the rest of the party from descending.
This semicircular room is empty except for a few bookshelves against the walls and a single desk and chair sit in one corner. A huge set of wood and metal double doors stands in the south wall.
A tiefling man stands as you walk down. His skin is deep red, sports four horns, has cloven hooves instead of feet, and proudly displays the symbol of Baphomet on his chest. In a deep baritone he asks, "What have you found templars?"
"For one thing, their password is Silverdragon, can you believe those guys? They sure do love their Terendelev." Thawm says, selling it a little too hard.
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Cecily brushes past Thawm and walks up to the tiefling.
"We've found a city overrun by demons. That was to plan, yes? We have found a people who are scattered, scared, and looking for hope where there is seemingly none, and cultists dog their steps. We have seen the city's greatest defender cut down."
Cecily leans on the desk and her claws dig into the wood, splintering under her grip, and her eyes glint with a cold blue chill.
"We have seen senseless violence, run rampant. My mentor struck down in a cowardly attack. My family laid open in the street, in praise of Baphomet. So you know what I have found? Pain. Heartbreak. And purpose. The people of this city look for hope, and that's what I am going to be. Because I am not going to rest until the guts of every last demon-worshipping c@%t in this city have run hot through my claws. Your days here are numbered, scum."
At the hooved tiefling's question, Dorek steps forward, a lie already forming on his tongue...
...only to stop short, wincing almost imperceptibly at Thawm's unconvincing delivery. He opens his mouth to help just as Cecily storms past him and towards Faxon, delivering a particularly graphic threat to the cultist cell leader. Recovering swiftly, he steps in to aid Cecily, drawing his sword and pointing it menacingly at the other tiefling's face. "That's r-right. Now, you have t-two options. If you t-tell us what you know of the other c-cultists, we'll let you l-live - if you d-don't, however..." He draws one razor-sharp clawed finger through the air over his own throat. "...my f-friend here has made clear exactly what she is going to d-do to you. You're outnumbered in any c-case, and those m-morons upstairs were too s-stupid not to let crusaders into their s-stronghold - you are not in c-control here, w-we are!"
Having just taken his initial step off the stairs, the Alchemist freezes as his draconian ears listen to Cecily's.... introduction.
Grinning, the Blue-scaled Kobold takes out an Elixir of Disguise Self and drinks it.
Standing perched upon the stairs, seemingly about to rush upstairs to get help, is another Asshat cultists!
He has Blue eyes....
This should be fun!
Faxon begins to shake as he recontextualizes the nature of the party. He says with a wavering voice, "Yes. Of course... I'm one of Minagho's trusted servants. I have no trouble selling them out, but I'll need assurances."
Aroden, having made no promises about the cultist's safety and lacking the authority to grant clemency, keeps quiet.
He has his sword in hand.
The scorn and contempt on his face is clear.
If all of our foes are so easily cowed then this will be a cakewalk.
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"Assurances? There's not an ounce of trust or trustworthiness in any of you, is there? Speaking of suspicious things... who puts doors like these in a basement?"
Tandyn draws Radiance, walks over to the doors, and tries to open one just a crack.
"A moment, good Sir Tandyn. Allow me to open it safely from a distance in case there are traps, tricks, or enemies lurking behind it."
If Sir Tandyn wishes (and he can step back if he wants), Aroden will cast Open/Close on the door.