Ordwi eagerly takes the waterskin, but has the good sense to sip slowly and make sure the water stays down. She takes her time and carefully moistens her throat. "Thank you. An ale would be wonderful after we are safe and sound." She nods "And pleasure to meet you as well Morga. You've picked a fine group of heroes to join."
"I've mostly recovered from the bumps and bruises they gave me. Being trapped in a room for days does give you plenty of time for bed-rest, if nothing else."
“I wonder if Meitremar used that Inveigle ritual on Ragnulf?” she muses, much less enthused by the revelations in the journal, then picks up the rapier and idly hands it to San. “Is this of any use?”
I think so. I'm happy to rob Meitremar of the instructions so that no others are needlessly lost. He pauses a moment to think of Ragnulf.
--------------------
He exhales deeply in relief at the sight of Ordwi, chuckling lightly as Autumn rushes forward to provide water and a bit of food.
Take your time Ordwi. We'll escort you up stairs when you think you have the strength. There are safe, secured places.
Following Autumn's prompting, San presents the rapier. "We found this in the room over there. It will be waiting whenever you feel up to holding it again. Now, as soon as you're ready to move, lets get you out of this prison cell and back into the sun! We apparently have a demon summoning to stop..." San tries to lighten the mood with grim humor but being underground for so long has dampened his spirits at bit.
Morga agrees to buy a round of ales after all this is over, provided that Autumn shares some of the wealth she's been hoarding holding for the group.
At San's mention of the demon-summoning ritual, she glowers thoughtfully. "Do we know how much time we have before they complete it? As in, do we have time to escort Ordwi all the way back to Stonehome. We've spent so many days recuperating from our battles that I think we may be running out of time."
“We’re glad you’re not too badly injured … and that you haven’t got the disease that everyone else has.” Autumn rolls up her sleeve to more clearly display the rust-colored bruises on her arm, then nods in agreement with Vildran. “If you’re able to walk, let’s move you somewhere safer. Maybe not all the way to Stonehome …” she gives Morga a look of acknowledgment “… but we have some other friends you could stay with who are closer. Provided you don’t mind the damp.”
As to how much time they have, the sorceress looks at the wizard. “I think Vildran read that it’s a week-long ritual, in the journal’s final entry? So it’ll depend on when Meitremar started.” She glances back at Ordwi. “I don’t suppose you overheard anything about a ritual to resurrect Xar-Azmak?”
Autumn gets ready to head back up the stairs and gives San a meaningful look that is almost hungry. “And maybe you could take that locked chest with us? In case it holds something Meitremar needs for the ritual?” Or platinum for herself.
For someone at her age who's been half-starved and dehydrated, Ordwi is fairly quick to summon up the energy to get back onto her feet. She accepts the rapier but admits she's in no shape to be fighting right now. You grab a hold of the chest from Meitremar's room and start hauling it upstairs
As you retreat with Ordwi, she explains exactly what happened to her since you last parted. "Given you made it here, I'm sure you've had your fair share of revelations already. When I made it to Stonehome, the Lord there - Ragnulf - greeted me with open arms. He seemed a little distant, distracted, like he didn't consider the disease spreading to others in Stonehome and Iron Harbor a real possibility." She sighs "It seemed strange, but I didn't take it as enough of a warning. Just as the meal was finished, a sinspawn of all things stepped out of the shadows and I was told that I'd be of more use to the sick if I laid down my weapons and submitted to being tied up. The fight took all of a few seconds and the next thing I knew I was somewhere underground, bound and battered."
"Ragnulf and Meitremar were talking. I heard all about a wild plan to test the faithful of Gorum through a clash with Xar-Azmak, the Sin of Steel. Madness as far as I could tell, though the man Meitremar seemed confident in his ability to bring Xar-Azmak here." She looks over at you all and sees you're not surprised "Than you know about this plan as well? As far as I can tell, Meitremar's fellow cultists have spread their reach through the town, Stonehome, and this place as well. All but taken over."
"I overheard talk of stoking envy in potential sacrifices as the means of extracting magical power using 'Vloric Spires', as well as talk of preparations being conducted for a ritual below. The last I heard of Meitremar or his cultists was three days ago when I was last given water. They were readying to start their ritual... I was to be a backup sacrifice if things did not go well." She falls silent as she contemplates how close she might've been to that fate.
"I don't know how real the risk of Meitremar's success might be, but the little I know of the Sin of Steel suggests a terrible demon indeed. What are your plans? I would like to help however I can."
Three days ago... then we have at most four days to interrupt their ritual. Vildran frowns, as this timeline sets in a new special kind of anxiety.
He refocuses on Ordwi and her question.
Our plan is to... travel deeper, find him and stop it all. I wish I could say more specifically but we don't really know the layout below. Do you know how many cultists went down with him?
Nodding to Vildran's explanation. "Yeah, we don't really have a plan other than confronting Meitrimar and his remaining cultists. We've had hints along the way about energies being focused through the spires above and we've sabotaged some of the contraptions that seemed to be facilitating that. Figured something channeling sin energy is a bad thing..." San shrugs at the last part.
“Well, you’ll be glad to hear that Ragnulf isn’t a problem anymore,” Autumn responds to Ordwi. “And we’ve managed to clear all the cultists out of Stonehome—we had to let ourselves in to find you. They weren’t very welcoming.” She eyes the chest once again and hands her broken lockpicks over to Vildran, with the clear intent that he repair them once they reach a safe place for the rescued woman.
“In fact, I think the only ones left are the ones involved in the ritual below. But we’ve heard there are dero down there too, and gods know how many more sinspawn there’ll be.” The sorceress frowns. They’ve found Ordwi and a chest of valuables—why else would it be locked?—so she’s achieved everything she’s wanted. It should be time for her to exit, and quickly. But … this Xar-Azmak demon is bad news. If Meitremar actually succeeds in resurrecting this Sin of Steel, there might be nowhere on Golarion for her to hide. No … she needs to help stop it, while there’s still a chance.
Strangely, rather than feeling trapped and resigned by the prospect, Autumn feels … exhilarated? Maybe that’s not the right word, but it’s that little thrill one gets at the crux of a grift, when everything depends on one good lie. And with all the cultists and sinspawn and gods know what else they’ve defeated so far, the con artist feels confident that they can pull this off. “The Horn of Rust is the key to the ritual—without it, Meitremar’s got nothing. We just need to sneak in and steal it.”
The sorceress looks steadily at Ordwi when she offers her help. “We’d so love to have your help, but are you sure you’re ready? You’ve been trapped in that room for days. Do you have any healing magic or other spells? Maybe you could stay in the back and cast from there.” She feels an odd affinity for the woman who saved her life from the dero on the boat.
"Or if you can help us destroy the Horn so it can never be used for anything. That would be great." Morga's got a bad, foreboding feeling about the rest of this mission. Mostly because it'll probably go about as well as the first part: lots of dying and time wasted recuperating. Four days sounds like a lot, but it's probably going to be a close call.
"I don't know how many cultists there are, I'm afraid. Nor how many may have gone with him. I had the sense that there were many, but at this point I may chalk it up to paranoia." Ordwi sighs "But it does sound like you've been busy. What of Brother Blanton in the end? They never did let me see him. And what of the town?"
Autumn's question comes as Ordwi pauses to rest, steadying herself against the wall of the stairs back up to the first sublevel. She thinks and then says "As it stands, I won't be much help in a fight, but if you can recover my holy symbol I will at least be able to offer you the aid of my healing magic. I suspect I would be more burden than help otherwise."
You make your way all the way back to the boggards, who scurry all around you, poking and prodding at Ordwi and asking a parade of questions.
Don't trouble yourself. You should stay here while we go deeper.
Vildran motions for her to sit and rest amongst the Boggard's moist trappings.
Lets see how you feel after at least one full night of rest.
“What of Brother Blanton in the end? They never did let me see him. And what of the town?"
Autumn gently inclines her head in a sympathetic sign of respect. “I’m afraid we never found Brother Blanton. Most of Stonehome’s acolytes were either brainwashed—too far gone to help—or already dead. Only a few Gorumites were both alive and sane. Trygve was one. And we managed to get Sister Vanda back on our side, fortunately.” She pauses, then adds in a reassuring voice, “The town’s safe—we didn’t notice any cultist activity outside of Stonehome and Rusthenge—the rusted metal spires we saw on the way in.”
Back in the damp lair, the sorceress patiently explains to Gurga and the other boggards that Ordwi is a trusted friend who needs to be left alone so she can rest. After their questioning abates, at least somewhat, she pushes her broken lockpicks into Vildran’s hands. “Fix these please.” She gestures at the chest as an explanation. “Meitremar kept her rapier, so maybe her holy symbol is in here.”
She glances over at Morga and San. “Hurry up and heal your wounds. That demon won’t stay intimidated forever—eventually it’ll get over the fear of seeing its face.”
"Right." Morga's had so much practice patching up wounds on this mission that she manages to do both San's and her own lickety-split.
As she works, she asks Ordwi: "What does your holy symbol look like?"
Ordwi and the boggards hit it off, though you can tell she's tired after her ordeal and crashing now that the relief of being rescued has subsided. She yawns, apologizes, then nods to Vildran "Much better I hope." She answers Autumn with "I have to say, I imagined as much for Brother Blanton. I was too late to aid him against this tide of evil, but at least his legacy has brought us here to help others. And it's reassuring to hear the town is still safe. My imagination had been running wild while I was trapped..."
She grimaces and eases herself down onto a damp "bed" before answering Morga "A small silver pendant of a tankard. I've had it for decades."
After some initial work from Vildran to fix the picks , Autumn turns her attention to the locked chest. She manages one tumbler before she ends up breaking her picks once more. It seems this'll take quite some time to unlock.
Vildran laughs nervously when Autumn shoves the lockpicks into his hands. He looks to Morga for a bit of divine guidance.
He sits down and pulls out his repair kit...
Autumn shakes her head in frustration as another pick breaks. “Never mind,” she says, placing her picks back in her toolkit. “This’ll take way too long.” She looks over at Ordwi, reluctant to leave potential healing behind, but nonetheless says “Vildran’s right. You rest here and get stronger. We’ll take care of this.”
She stands with a grim look of determination. “Let’s do this.”
Morga grumbles about how annoying it is that the Guidance spell can only be useful once every ten minutes, but goes ahead and casts it on Vildran and Autumn for their fixing and lock-picking shenanigans.
Indeed, although Vildran manages to repair the picks once, the difficulty of the lock means that it'll take some concerted team effort between himself, Morga and Autumn before the chest yields its secrets. You resolve to head back downstairs first. Ordwi offers her well-wishes and lays back to rest against the bed. In moments she looks ready to sleep.
As you head off, the boggards assure you they will "Tuck her in", whatever that might mean by their standards.
Back downstairs, you find the space unchanged. The massive iron door bars your way westward; sharp spikes and rusted blades cover its every surface while demonic frescoes flank it on either side. It doesn't looks to have a lock, so with care, you may be able to push it open.
Vildran glances at the tunnel that leads to their demon acquaintance.
We could create an illusory wall here now, and if he were to decide to venture out perhaps be contained from impeding our progress. I suppose we could also just let him be...
Depending on what the group thinks, he doesn't dwell on it too long before turning to the western door.
“Save your spells,” Autumn advises the wizard in a quiet whisper while once again looking over the massive iron doors for traps. “Is there any magic on the door?”
"No reason to go looking for extra trouble at just this moment. Let's leave that thing be for now."
As always, Vildran is on the lookout for powerful magical auras.
Morga positions herself and her shield to be between the group and the demon, but also near the door.
-
There's no noise from the south. It seems that passage and the door you left open to the north are both quiet. If the abrikandilu demon is about, it seems to be staying low profile.
Not intending to be caught unprepared, San has the longhammer in hand. If the room's big enough, I'll swap to a bow... Refering to the aura, "No ideas about what is going to happen when I push? Great..." There's a moment of apprehension as flashbacks to the attempted entrance of Stonehome make themselves known. Repressing the unpleasant thoughts, he pushes to open the door.
-
Firmly gripping and raising her crossbow, Autumn quickly backs away from the door when San mentions that opening it will cause something to form there. So glad it’s not me opening the door.
"Great," Morga mutters. "Everyone stand back and spread out." She takes a step or two away from the door, just in case.
The magic seems tied to a verbal keyword. If that verbal keyword is uttered, it won't activate.
Autumn is only too happy to comply with Morga’s suggestion. But when she learns that the magic can be bypassed with a keyword, she looks questioningly at the wizard. “Did Meitremar write the keyword down in his journal?”
Vildran nods, taking several paces away from the door and pulling out the journal. He begins flipping through it to where he thinks Meitremar would have described this door.
Autumn peeks at the journal over Vildran’s arm, trying to help him glean some idea about what the keyword might be.
You flip through the journal, but while there's a mention in Theiltemar's old entries of a grand display to Xar-Azmak, there's no particular mention of the door or a codeword. In the more recent entries from Meitremar, there's no mention at all. Perhaps it was obvious to him and therefore not worth noting.
San contemplates what might keep the sigil from activating. "Did this cult have any kind of motto or something? 'Into Rust!'... something silly like that. I thought one of the cultists exclaimed something when we were fighting."
"Well, I suppose we could say all the things, one after the other, and then try opening the door. It's unlikely to need silence before and after the password. ... Do any of you have a way to open the door with magic?"
Autumn looks away from the journal, shaking her head. “It’s never about the cult,” she responds to San, “it’s always about the leader.” After all, she knows a thing or two about how to run a con.
“The password would be something important to Meitremar … or his grandfather, depending on who put the magic on the door. If it was Meitremar—maybe ‘Theiltemar’, since he’s obsessed with his grandfather’s legacy, or maybe even ‘Meitremar’, if he’s after glory. If it was Theiltemar, then I’d guess Xar-Azmak—that’s what this whole place is for.”
She gives Morga a hesitant, uncertain look. “I suppose we could all push the door open together and say four different keywords, to maximize our chances of getting it right.” It’s quite clear she’s leery of any plan that exposes her to so much risk. Now, on the other hand, if just the other three were to push the door open …
Her eyes suddenly open wide. “No,” she modifies the dwarf’s last suggestion, “we don’t open the door with magic—we stop it all together!” She retrieves a scroll from her pack and places it in Vildran’s hands. “This contains a ‘Dispel Magic’ spell.”
Vildran looks at the scroll in his hands.
Keep those guesses ready in case this doesn't work...
He turns his focus to the door but takes another step back. His eyes narrowing, he lifts the scroll up so that it covers the lower have of his field of view but not the entire door. Reading the scroll under his breath he continues focusing on the magical aura on the door.
As Vildran prepares to use the scroll, Autumn half closes her eyes and focuses upon her magical pendant, drawing forth its occult energies to bolster his efforts.
Thinking back through their experiences in the workshop, San remembers something about Lissala? But that wasn't mentioned anywhere else... Probably not the answer. Adding to Autumn's musings, "The obvious answer is Xar Azmak. Obvious seems my style lately, I'll try it if this dispel doesn't work. Maybe a more subtle answer is something about summoning? That was the goal of this place." Whatever words people choose, San takes some time to help Autumn and Morga pronounce them in Thassalonian.
Morga nods her agreement to try the scroll first. "If that doesn't work, let's all say a different word at the same time. I'll say 'Meitremar'."
Vildran summons the disruptive energies of the scroll and pierces the aura of magic hanging around the door. The strange aura wavers and then fades, suppressed for a short while. San wastes no time in opening the doors before the magic can reassert itself.
The doors swing open to a vast chamber bathed in a flickering blood-red light cast by four torches burning on the northern, southern, and eastern walls. The light illuminates two intricately carved columns depicting snarling demons that rise to the ceiling thirty feet above. To the west, stone stairs lead up to a dais covered in the brown stains of dried blood. A twenty-foot-tall rusted iron statue of a demonic horned creature looms on the dais, holding an oversized pickaxe in one hand and the head of a horned fiend in the other. The towering statue is clearly the same demon as depicted in the entry hall. One horn on the statue’s head appears to be missing, with only a jagged stump remaining. Glowing red gemstones sit in the eye sockets of the looming statue.
Kneeling at the feet of the statue looks to be a smaller statue made of brass, however it rises to its feet and turns toward you. Those of you with Thassilon lore recognize it as a rather unflattering depiction of the Runelord Belimarius. The brass figure has a bright garnet embedded in its chest and while it doesn't have any visible weapons, its permanently scowling visage gives it an ominous presence. Joining the brass Belimarius in the chamber are three robed cultists, each with a dagger in hand. They seem a little taken aback, but one of the three intones "You come to your doom. This is Xar-Azmak's domain!"
-
|||| INIT ||||
San
Blue Cultist
Red Cultist
Yellow Cultist
Brass Belimarius
Morga
Vildran
Autumn (Rust Creep Stg1)
Such a nice large room... damnit!
San pulls put his bow and fires two quick shots at the brass statue thing as he doesn't have a clear shot at any cultists.
The cultists are less judicious in their actions. They raise their daggers and rush San, surrounding him. He dodges several attacks while other stabs just catch his armor. He still suffers two cuts
|||| INIT ||||
Morga
Vildran
Autumn (Rust Creep Stg1)
San (12 dmg)
Blue Cultist
Red Cultist
Yellow Cultist
Brass Belimarius (20 dmg)
He's surrounded. Not good.
Vildran gesticulates quickly, includes the ends of his fingers on the hand wrapped around his staff. The pointer finger on the opposite hand stretches out to the cultists to the South .
He grabs a wand from his belt.
“What is that thing?” Autumn wonders aloud at the animated statue that can somehow cast spells. The onrushing swarm of cultists redirects her priorities, however. Before they can do further damage to San, she raises and extends her crossbow with both hands, channeling a phase bolt through her weapon at one of the cultists, then glares ominously at another, warning him off with one vivid green eye decaying into a dull black.