"Judging from the note, this must have been where Lord Ragnulf was staying. I wonder what is magical about this sculpture though. I'll see if I can figure it out while we turn over the rest of the room." San focuses his meager magical prowess toward the sculpture trying to sus out whatever function it might have.
With the cythnigot in the past and an empty room in the present, Autumn quips “Wouldn’t it be nice if all the cultists just gave up and left?” She takes the pair of keys—hopefully they’ll open a treasure chest down here, or at least release whatever sick people are still alive from their prison—and the note, but retreats to the far side of the room, away from the desk, before examining them.
“Be careful with that sculpture,” she warns San. “Maybe that’s what corrupted Ragnulf in the first place. Everything that’s happened started with him.” She peruses the note, trying to read the scratched out sections in an attempt to glean more information. Was Ragnulf trying to resist whatever afflicted him? Would that explain the shaky handwriting and crossed out sections?
Morga pockets the crying angel pendant. She's already wearing the bronze bull one, and doesn't care to take the time to switch them out immediately.
When Autumn warns San to be careful with the sculpture, Morga's ears prick up from where she was standing listlessly, waiting for everyone to be ready to move on so she can find her great-aunt. Tentatively, she steps closer to examine it without touching it.
Vildran sees if he can help San with the particulars of the statue...
Again though, he senses others don't want him to get lost in another reverie of magical study, and he remembers Morga's urgency to locate her aunt. He spends as little time on the identification as possible, afterward looking around at the others self-consciously.
He then follows Morga to the next door
Autumn isn't sure what might have driven Ragnulf's editing and re-editing of the note, but given what you know of his behavior from Vanda, his mental state was probably rather unstable.
Morga immediately recognizes the statuette as a depiction of Gorum's holy symbol, a sword impaling a mountain. Of course, in the standard depiction, the sword is not a dagger and isn't rusty.
Vildran doesn't notice anything unusual about the next door to the counter-clockwise and detects no magic.
"Lets just take the whole thing with us. No reason to go breaking things right now." Following Vildran and Morga, San takes up position with a firing lane at the next unknown door.
Autumn nods in agreement with San. She takes a couple moments to quickly rifle through the drawers, in case they missed anything, then joins the others, listening at the door while waiting for Morga to open it.
You open the northern door to reveal a modest hallway with side passages and doors along its length on both sides. These doors have mostly been left ajar. When you check what's behind them you find exceptionally basic sleeping quarters that appear to have recently been made here. Bedrolls have been laid out in each room atop beds of dried grass or seagrass. There are no initiates still here, but a cursory search digs up more shinies for Autumn - in total she finds 17 gp worth of ancient coins and dusty curiosities that must have been stripped from this complex. You find nothing else of interest beyond a door continuing northward.
Buoyed by found gold and missing cultists, Autumn confidently approaches the next unopened door. With such a narrow corridor however, she hangs back a bit to make way for Morga to lead the way. “So much easier than last time,” she quietly grins while pocketing the coins from the bedrooms.
"Hm." Morga mumbles noncommittally as she passes Autumn on her way to the next door. She doesn't bother with searching, though as long as Autumn is quick enough about it she doesn't bother to stop her. There'll be plenty of time for a thorough search later, once they are sure the cultists are rooted out completely and any victims are brought to safety. If it's not too late. Great-aunt Hilga, where are you?"
"Stalking through the hallways of an ancient Thassalonian workshop. I should be more excited for the opportunity. I suppose the angry cultists and missing hostages put a damper on things... We'll find your great-aunt Morga. And Ordwi too. We just have to keep moving. Don't lose hope!"
San takes up his usual position a few paces back from the door.
Grunting, Morga puts her shoulder to the door and tries to force it open.
She sighs in resignation. "San, you wanna give it a try?" Her shield droops as she steps aside.
"Sure, I'll give it a try. Might want to take a step back." San looks at the door for the best spot to push then puts his shoulder into pushing.
Vildran passes through the stark quarters, frowning at what an uncomfortable living situation this must be.
This certainly isn't the most compelling aspect of being in the cult...
He stands back from the door to let Morga and San bash it in.
Hmm, this will definitely make some noise.
He watches behind them in case someone that hears them would sneak up.
Autumns stays out of the way, to one side of the hallway, as San takes a running start at the door.
Stone tables and benches fill this large, dimly lit hall, many of them covered with cutlery, dishware, goblets, or tools. Rusty iron chandeliers hang from the ceiling, but instead of candles providing light, huge glowing mushrooms spring out of each holder, bathing the room in a dim bluish-green radiance. You hear the squawking of two upset creatures inside, both speaking in a burbling tongue. San catches a glimpse of one of them - a short frog-faced humanoid with phosphorescent pale green skin. The little frog person waves a short spear in alarm.
The frog persons switch to thickly accented common as they shout "Back, away, not welcome!"
Dully, Morga wonders if the frog-people are cultists too. They didn't start trying to kill her allies immediately, so...maybe? Warily, she asks: "We're looking for the Xar-Azmak acolytes. Are you them?" Her grip tightens on her shield, ready to raise it at a moment's notice.
San backs away from the door as soon as its opened. He's reassured that he wasn't attacked immediately but now who are these frog people? "Was he... glowing?"
Hearing conversation rather than combat, Autumn quickly squeezes her way past Morga and San to the door. One quick look inside the room is enough for her to guess at the situation, and to deduce that her skills are needed here—and badly, given the tone-deaf responses of her companions.
“Peace!” she quickly interjects, making a show of not only lowering her crossbow but also strapping it to her pack. She raises two empty palms to assure the frog person that she means no harm. “We are no friends of the cultists … of the rust people,” she adds, unsure if the strange humanoids would know what she meant by cultist. “We agree, the rust people are so not welcome here. We want them gone as much as you do. Will you help us get rid of them? You must be so tired of being cooped up in here.”
Vildran pokes his head around the door, but he feels Autumn has made a good appeal and saying more may not help.
One boggard says "Yes, yes, rust people terrible. Always loud. Many foul friends." while the other seems a little more cautious "How we know you not lying? Rust people said they give tribute, but it never come. Maybe you also rust people with fancy words."
The boggards confer in their burbling tongue before announcing "Stay, we bring Gurga to judge if true." They don't wait for your agreement and instead immediately scurry westward and into a room to the right. They don't immediately return.
"You'd think the lack of rust on us would be evidence enough." Grumbles Morga. "Let's back up so we're not easy fodder for a jar of acid or something." She backs up a bit, but doesn't leave the general area.
Vildran takes on an immediate fascination for the coming "Gurga."
I wonder how long they've lived down here.
He casually steps further into the room since they are awaiting scrutiny anyway.
Autumn follows Vildran into the room, but politely stays near the entrance without venturing further in. “You can ask,” she responds quietly to the elf’s idle question, before asking something more germane in turn. “Do any of you know what these boggards value—what the best way to influence them is?” She wonders what tribute the cultists might have promised as she glances around the room while awaiting the boggards’ return.
"They were probably here before the cultists if they were offered tribute." San also squeezes into the room but slings his bow across his chest as a show of trust. We have enough enemies. Might as well try to make friends.
Morga slips into an uneasy almost-doze, zoning out as she leans against the wall while they wait.
You don't get much time to explore before the two boggards return, bringing a third with them. This new boggard wears a tunic of woven seaweed and has a staff covered in fishing hooks. She squints suspiciously at your group. "I am Gurga. Bolgus and Durgon say you are not working for the rust people." Gurga's command of common is audibly much better than her underlings "There are so many of them here, with their daggers and their chanting and their tricky words. Never have we seen any talls who don't serve them. I think you are lying. You want our treasures and our lives for whoever you serve. You will not have them." Gurga seems strongly skeptical and unfriendly, but not outright hostile yet.
Vildran knows more about boggards than just their name. He knows they're typically aggressive amphibian humanoids with a strongly hierarchical society. These particular glowing ones appear to be from some deep, subterranean aquatic habitat, possibly in the Darklands.
We are not interested in your treasures. The "rust people" are disturbing the community above as well, with sickness and distrust. If you're not with them, then I believe we can avoid hostilities. We fought and defeated some of them to get this far.
He thinks back to what they've found that could help convince the Boggards.
“What do they value?” Autumn urgently murmurs at Vildran in a magical whisper when the boggards return. She needs to know something about these creatures to properly sway them—and to avoid any missteps. Normally gold or treasure would be a safe offering, but from what she’s seen inside the basins, they might simply prefer mundane metals. But she dare not offend them with an inappropriate gift.
When Gurga presents herself, Autumn stops glaring at the elf and quickly faces the boggard leader, arranging a friendly but respectful smile upon her face as she shifts roles. “Greetings, Great Gurga,” she curtsies like a courtier before a queen. “Your treasures are rightfully yours, of course—we seek nothing more than an audience to plead our case. We know that you are much too wise and august to be deceived by flattery and fancy words, so I shall speak plainly. All we wish is information about the rust people who plague you and your boggards.”
She lowers her eyes respectfully. “We would help rid you of their presence, if you would but share what you know of them. Think upon our request ...” Autumn pauses, allowing time for reason to come to her aid. “Does that sound like something the rust people would ask? Information about themselves? No, we do not lie. You can be assured that we are as opposed to them as you are.”
Gurga considers for a moment what to do next, then says "Good, we can be friend-allies for a time. The rust people are a big problem and we have not yet found a way to return home. If you want to smash them, then we will help."[b] She burbles something to the other two boggards and they scurry deeper into the room and start rummaging in some piles of discarded items and gathering bits and bobs. In the mean time she says [b]"We are from the Black Lake clan, our home deep below, on a long trek to search for treasures. Not long after we found this place the rust people came as well, waking the old and forgotten things up and seeking and searching. They did not find our treasures because we hide them well and block the doors, but we saw their hungry eyes. There are many of them, too many to sneak past and return home with our prizes. Even with the secret ways we've found..."
The two other boggards finish their scavenging and swiftly craft a set of four makeshift badges, each one composed of a chip of stone, slice of glowing mushroom, and a rodent tooth, all bundled with twine. They hold up the badges for you to take. Gurga says "These are friend-ally marks. Take these and wear them and all Black Lake clan know that you are helping me, and that killing you will be a maybe mistake.".
Autumn steps forward and humbly accepts one of the improvised badges. “You do honor us,” she inclines her head, then finds a pin to carefully affix the badge to her blouse. With the practiced ease that comes from assuming a new role for each new mark, she puffs out her chest with manufactured pride.
“May we, in turn, present you with a simple gift to cement our friend-ally-ship?” The sorceress rummages in her pack and, upon the table nearest the boggards, respectfully places her mirror—something she hopes will serve a dual purpose, straddling the border between plain and mundane, and shiny and pretty.
“Could you please show us some of these secret ways?” she asks in a deferential voice. “It would be a great advantage to take the rust people by surprise.”
San looks at the others before stepping forward to take the badges. "Thank you Gurga. We'll do our best to help clear the way for your people to return home." He considers his words for a moment before asking, "You wouldn't happen to have seen other talls that were not rust people but were prisoners of them?
He accepts his badge, and inspects it closey turning it over in his hand.
"Maybe mistake"...?
The uncertainty of the statement induces a little anxiety in Vildran.
Others of Black Lake clan may assume we've slain their kinsfolk...
Shuddering, he quickly moves on from the thought, affixing it to present as clearly as possible on his left shoulder.
He nods vigorously along with Autumns request for "secret ways." He hopes her gift delights them.
"Thank you," Morga bobs her head with respect as she accepts her badge. Eyeing Autumn's gift, she muses: I wish I had something to give them. Her inventory is quite sparse, and she's not willing to part with any of it. Perhaps she can offer healing? Though they likely have a healer of their own... "Have the rust people injured any of your people?"
The boggards oooh and aaaah over Autumn's mirror, clearly happy to receive a fancy gift from their new friend-allies. After they're done admiring it, Gurga explains the hidden breaches through the walls of the complex her scouts had found and used to get here in the first place. She points out that one lies to the west within a storage room, which leads to some sort of ancient laboratory, while another connects the laboratory to a ritual chamber to its south that's been overrun by "rust people". The laboratory itself is also dangerous, with shambling guardians that prevent passage down the stairs that lead deeper into the complex (and closer to the home of the Black Lake boggards).
To San's question Gurga responds "We saw one, yes. Old, wrinkled. Tied up like blarglefish on stick for roasting. Maybe they keep her for roasting too. Or just to bleed like small furry things. My scouts see her in the big room to the south, but never again afterward."
While to Morga's she says "Yes, no. Maybe. I send out scouts. They do not always come back. Maybe it's rust people who are making them disappear. Maybe it's something else. We do not know who to trust, just that it's not safe to make the journey home."
To Autumn and Vildran's best judgement Gurga is being honest with her answers.
To San's question Gurga responds "We saw one, yes. Old, wrinkled. Tied up like blarglefish on stick for roasting. Maybe they keep her for roasting too. Or just to bleed like small furry things. My scouts see her in the big room to the south, but never again afterward."
An icy chill blooms in Morga's gut, followed by the feeling of plummeting from a great height. She sways slightly, but makes no sound. Her knuckles whiten on the grip of her shield. The words "never again afterward" echo through her mind. We took too long. We're too late.
Vildran notices Morga tense up. He doesn't want to make any promises, but
They could have others down here, that the boggards didn't see. Let's not conclude anything yet...
He gulps to himself, knowing that it might be a false hope.
Turning back to Gurga, he remarks
It sounds like even with the secret passages we should expect to run into foes.
Then asks
If we return here sometimes, would we be granted safety of rest in this place?
Pleased by the boggards’ pleasure over her mirror, Autumn relaxes as she tries to learn more from them. “What else do you know about these shambling guardians that block your way home? Were they brought by the rust people? How many are there?” She slowly walks around the room, trying to get her bearings in this underground complex, and wishing that she had a better sense of direction.
“Do you control any other rooms? For example, this one …” she gestures towards the northern door beside her, then at the pair just behind Gurga, “… and those behind you?” She exchanges a glance with Vildran. “It might be best to know where the rest of your clan is, to minimize any ‘maybe mistakes’.”
Gurga looks a little irritated at Vildran "Yes! Yes! If there were no problems in our way, we would already be bringing our hoard of treasures home! And of course you can rest here, though not in the dripping room, since I claimed it, and its mine." She turns to Autumn "My scouts have seen only small glances, but they are big and long tongue and smell like blood and dust. There are two we know of, but maybe more."
She shows you the one large adjacent room at Autumn's request. Inside you find what was once a kitchen but has now been taken over by nests made of mud. The boggards scurry in and slop atop the nests, demonstrating their purpose with exaggerated sighs of comfort, before springing back over. In a corner of the kitchen is another pile of rusted metal and wooden splinters. As for the other door that Gurga originally came from, she just says "That is the dripping room. It's mine. No peeking." Those two additional rooms and the supply room with the secret door appear to be the extent of the boggards' domain, at least on this floor.
The other boggards helpfully chime in at Autumn's last couple of questions "Black Lake is below, deep! If you see clan mates, you know you are close. If you get close enough to be stabbed, just show badge and say hello. It will probably work!"
"My scouts have seen only small glances, but they are big and long tongue and smell like blood and dust."
"If you get close enough to be stabbed, just show badge and say hello. It will probably work!"
A quick exhale through her nose is the closest Morga can get to a laugh at the silliness of the boggards. Huh. "It will probably work." <sigh> "All right, looks like it's time for us to go do what we said we'd do. Gurga, many thanks." She bobs her head good-bye and turns to shuffle toward the door.
Probably... Vildran repeats with deepening dubiousness.
Vildran, like Morga, thinks on the description of the long-tongue creatures.
Pushing aside all the maybe's and probably's of encountering other boggards, San prepares to leave their brief sanctuary. "Shall we leave out the back into those spaces Gurga described?"
“But of course,” Autumn replies when Gurga makes it clear that the dripping room is off limits. She simply smiles agreeably when the other boggards offer some helpful advice, though she does have an idea to make their ‘probable’ idea a little more likely. “Do the other boggards speak the common tongue as well? Perhaps it would help even more if you taught us how to say ‘hello’ in your own tongue?”
She nods in agreement with San. “But we should first close and block their door with the stone bench again, to keep the cultists out.” After ensuring that they have Gurga’s permission to head west to the storage room, she heads off, making it clear that the ‘we’ in moving the bench does not include herself.
The boggards wave and return to their work as you indicate you're ready to move on, but Gurga leaves you with one last comment "Since you're now friend-allies, we have things you want in our treasures. If you can trade good trades, we can sell them to you. Come back later!"
As Autumn leads the way westward, she identifies the door Gurga indicated to be the dripping room to the right. To the left, she sees a simple privy. She turns the corner and looks to the end of the hall to the south. There's the boggards have shoved another stone bench, together with some packed mud to get a good seal. Leaving that alone for now she enters the store room to the west.
The stone shelves of this storage room are largely empty, with only a few empty bottles, rusted metal tools, and blank stone tablets now sitting on the musty shelves. Muddy footprints trail from the eastern door to the shelves on the western wall.
Looking past Autumn, Vildran follows the footprints to the wall.
I believe that's where she described one of the secret passages to us.
Autumn nods silently in response to Vildran as she carefully searches the western wall for the secret door. "Let's start by taking a peek at these 'shambling guardians'," she whispers out of caution, though her voice seems full of confidence now that they have some friend-allies down here.
"We took down Azomi easy enough and these sound similar. I just need to aim really well again... There is supposed to be a door here right?" San lends his eyes to Autumn's effort searching for the secret door.
Glumly, Morga joins the search for the secret door. Her tired eyes rove the walls.