You take the remaining gremlin corpses and toss them out into the spidery caverns. They catch in the sticky nets and, should you keep the doors open, you soon see giant spiders coming over to take their prizes. Afterward, you close the door up and do a little more investigation of the gremlin tunnels. Morga finds a few of the nooks within the tunnels contain small food prep spaces. There's fresh water in bowls, or at least fresh-ish water. There are also small bags of food that ranges from potentially edible in the case of leaves and nuts, to rather unappealing in the case of several clusters of uncooked rats. Even all put together its not enough for a decent meal for the group of you. You'll need to get a hold of your things again if you want to eat properly.
Deciding to be careful, Morga heals you up some more and you retreat into the narrow tunnels to rest for the rest of the night. In such a cramped space at least you don't have to worry about something sneaking up behind you, but on the other hand the claustrophobic environment and lack of easy movement mean that you'll struggle to get out quickly if something does approach. That concern, and your hunger, accompanies you through the rest period, as do an intermittent stream of worrying noises from somewhere outside the gremlin tunnels. Most prominent are the sounds of claws scraping against stone from somewhere, followed by eerie hisses and grumbles. Late in the night you also hear a wild array of pitched whistles and shrieking screams, echoing within the Pit. For better or worse, nothing comes for you in the night.
You awaken late the next day, recovered but not fully refreshed.
Light streams in from the tunnels in the eastern wall of the large "spoon cavern". Everything seems quiet.
Autumn groans uncomfortably as she slowly wriggles out of her tunnel into the soft morning light. “So not doing that again. But at least we’re still alive,” she grumbles, deciding to look on the bright side of things. Indeed, by all rights they should be lumps of charcoal in Ripnugget’s lair—it’s a miracle that they’re still alive.
“Did anyone else hear claws scratching stone, and screams and whistles last night? Or was it just me?” She looks herself over, relieved to see that all her wounds have healed, though her joints ache painfully and her stomach rumbles angrily in protest at having nothing more than a few nuts and leaves for dinner, with no promise of breakfast either.
She looks around the cavern, considering their options. “So there’s only two ways out of here: trying to break through the barricade into Tunch’s room—and then dealing with Tunch and his weasel—or persuade Longfingers to let us leave, temporarily. He should be in a better mood and we could promise to bring him back more food—maybe some goblins, if we need to kill them to get our stuff back?” She gives San a questioning look. “And if we need to, we could leave Vildran behind with the spiders as a gesture of good faith.” She winks at the wizard—it’s hard to tell if she’s joking or serious. “After all, he won’t be much use without his spellbook and staff.”
"Ha ha," Morga grumbles. "Yeah, I heard all those things too. Lovely accommodations down here."
She has much less confidence in their ability to talk their way out of Lord Longfingers than Tunch, what with the language barrier and all. Hmm... How can we tilt things in our favor... "What if we tell Tunch that Minargul knew we were coming and handed us over to Lord Longfingers? Maybe he'd let us go so we could finish the job. And maybe he'd be able to tell us where our stuff is so we can go get it first."
Autumn takes a minute to center herself and reflect inward, drawing extra power from her blood to prepare another spell, in the event that they engage in combat with either the spiders or the goblins. Then she nods at the dwarf’s suggestion. “At least I’ll be able to talk to Tunch,” she agrees, not particularly liking the odds of Morga or San sweet-talking Lord Longfingers. “Let’s see if he’s still there …”
Squaring her shoulders, she takes a deep breath, readying herself for cramped quarters once again, then crawls into the tunnel to Tunch’s chamber. She advances slowly to the end of the tunnel, being as quiet as she can, then tries to peek into the room through gaps in the barricade.
The tunnel toward Tunch's chamber feels positively spacious after the night's rest. Autumn peeks through the gaps in the barricade blocking the opening and sees the goblin cleaning his giant weasel's fur with an oversized wire brush. He's humming rather tonelessly to himself, oblivious as to the situation elsewhere.
Here goes nothing … Remaining quietly hidden behind the barricade—no sense giving away her position unnecessarily—Autumn subtly casts a magical message, creating the effect of a disembodied voice whispering directly into Tunch’s ear. “What happened to Ripnugget?”
Tunch jumps, looks around. His giant weasel leaps up onto the nearby table, scattering tools as it looks around for what's agitating its master. If Autumn repeats her entreaty, Tunch whispers out "Who's that?"
“Be calm,” Autumn whispers through her messaging spell. She remains hidden, not revealing her location, but divulging more context to put the goblin at ease. “We went to rid you of Minargul, but then we learned that Ripnugget was hiding right behind the throne room! We had to alter our plans—with Minargul alive, the Whistlefangs no longer have fun and your art isn’t appreciated. But with Ripnugget still alive, you’d be dead! We had to destroy Ripnugget first to keep you and your friends safe. There was a terrible, deadly battle. We are now prepared to get rid of Minargul for you—but first we need to know what happened to Ripnugget. What has happened since that battle?”
Vildran retires to his own "little tunnel" for the night, looking for any corner just big enough to sit and lean back against a wall. He pulls his cloak tight and every little skitter or shadow sets of a wave of paranoia.
When he emerges from his hole in the morning , his beard hair is standing straight out from his face, his antennae straight up from his head, and his eyes darkly ringed by exhaustion seem fixed in a "1000 yard stare."
“Did anyone else hear claws scratching stone, and screams and whistles last night? Or was it just me?”
Oh, those were not just in my head? he replies stoically without even turn his head to direct the response.
Coffee... I might trade my spellbook and staff for some right now.
He ignores the rest of Autumns comments for now.
He pads along quietly behind Autumn towards Tunch's workshop, listening for any reaction.
Well, I guess it might work!
"Oh, it's you? Where are you?" Tunch looks around, but doesn't spot Autumn in her hiding place "I heard some fighting earlier. That was you? It didn't sound like you. It sounded like Whistlefangs fighting instead. And you're saying you didn't fight the Whistlefangs." He frowns crookedly "I stayed here, where it's safe enough from terrible deadly battles and other things. Plus I have a lot of work still to do here. Lot of very important projects. My next masterpiece." If you press him you realize he likely hasn't left this chamber since you last saw him. He continues "So Minargul isn't dead? Why not kill her first, then Ripnugget? Or just stay away from Ripnugget. He didn't bother me."
Autumn responds “Ripnugget may not bother you, but what about the rest of your tribe? Would you be happy to be the only Whistlefang left? alive” She pauses, curious to hear how Tunch would respond. “Anyway, it appears we misunderstood your priorities, and for that I apologize. If you would remove the barricade blocking the gremlins’ tunnel” here she switches from using her whispering spell and instead speaks in her normal voice, “we will come out, to help rid you of Minargul once and for all.”
San wriggles out of the small tunnel and drags himself to his feet. They've rested but he certainly doesn't feel like it. Thankful to Autumn for taking the lead trying to negotiate a way out that isn't through the spider den, he stands guard in case Lord Longfingers decides to ambush them.
He sidles up to the barricade "How'd you get there? Where are the gremlins?" He peers through the slats and spots Autumn. "Give a little time. I'll open it." He heads over to his tools and picks up a bent pry-bar. Then, he returns to where Autumn is and starts opening up the barricade while she answers his questions.
As for the path toward Lord Longfingers, San doesn't see or hear anything untoward. It looks like the spiders aren't interested in checking in on you all - at least not yet.
“Oh, you so needn’t worry about the gremlins anymore,” Autumn assures the goblin in an easy voice. “We took care of them so that they can’t mess with your tools or disturb you. We wouldn’t want them interrupting your important work, would we? An artisan like yourself shouldn’t be bothered with such distractions, especially when you’re working on another masterpiece.”
She glances back behind her. “And we came here from … a spider’s lair? It was filled with webs and spiders, but also a creature that wasn’t a spider—just like a spider, if you know what I mean?” she chats in a casual tone, as if they were discussing the weather over tea. “I don’t know if you know of him? Apparently he’ll give a favor if you do a favor for him—kind of a ‘you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours’ kind of deal, and it never hurts to have someone owing you a favor, so we helped him out with the gremlins, because they were bothering him too.”
Autumn doesn't pick up on any deception in the goblin, and before long the barricade has been pried apart to admit Autumn to Tunch's small workshop.
Autumn gratefully crawls out of the tunnel, then beckons to her companions. “Come on through—the barricade is down,” she calls out while brushing dirt and debris off her clothes. “Thank you,” she says sincerely to Tunch, “it’ll take a little while for my friends to get through the tunnel. Some of them could stand to go on a diet. While we wait, might I take a peek at your latest projects? I’d love to see what you’re working on. Provided it isn’t some big secret, of course,” she flatters the goblin with feigned interest, trying to keep him occupied until the others join her.
Making sure the others can squeeze through the opening, San waits to the end as rear guard in case the spiders decide to come investigating. Hearing whispers through the tunnel about Lord Longfingers being trustworthy sets his mind at ease at least.
When he's finally in the artist's studio, he asks, "You wouldn't happen to have a way to spy on your tribe directly do you? We lost some of our things during the... incident. We'd like to know who has them to get it back."
Tunch rushes protectively over to his artwork in progress "No! You can wait! It's not done yet." He stands guard as the rest of the group comes in through the tunnels. When San asks his question he says "Only through peep holes into entrance and art gallery. But usually no one in there." He points to the eastern wall.
After a little inspection of the false wall you first used to enter Tunch's workshop, you find small holes at about goblin height that give a poor view into the neighboring room. The view is mostly blocked by the giant taxidermied spider in the alcove on the other side, but you can see a little of the space beyond. There's no obvious occupant and no sign of your things.
Vildran bumps his elbows a few times trying to navigate the tunnel, before he finally emerges into the workshop.
He casually walks over to the eastern wall and peeks through one of the holes...
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"All right, all right. We won't sneak a peak at your art," Morga assures Tunch as she exits the tunnel. "Whew! Thanks." She gives him a nod before joining Vildran at the peepholes. Her stomach growls noticeably, but she doesn't ask for food. Best not to seem incompetent, or he might turn on us. I don't fancy getting splashed by all his noxious concoctions while fighting off that giant weasel.
Turning back to the others, she states grimly: "We need our stuff back to finish our mission. Tunch, does your leader know any languages besides Goblin?" Morga's really hoping Autumn can take the lead on the upcoming negotiations without having to work through a translator.
Autumn suitably averts her eyes from Tunch’s artwork, even as her mind registers another lever for future use against the goblin. “Would you please disarm any traps in the entrance, so that we can reach Minargul’s chambers without alarm?” Assuming Tunch complies, she would open the eastern door and walk out into the art gallery, standing tall and confident. In her mind, there’s no point in hiding and skulking about any more—to learn what happened to Ripnugget, to figure out what is so special about the library where he was holed up, and, most importantly, to recover all their possessions: there’s no way to accomplish all of these with just stealth. They’re going to need to talk to the goblins.
San, happy that Tunch is still nice enough, dreads going back to the goblins. They were defeated once being their chambers. What if they decide that we can be taken out without trying to talk first? "Best be on guard. They might not be friendly this time."
San follows Autumn closely intending to be bodyguard.
Here goes nothing. Brave faces now. For Tunch's benefit, she cracks her knuckles and confidently declares: "Let's do this."
Tunch acquiesces to disabling the traps after a bit of grumbling and then waves you on into the entrance chamber and closes the door behind you. From there you boldly advance with Autumn in the lead. The observant among you notice that the door into the goblin throne room swings differently and not really smoothly. You find the reason as you take in the room beyond.
The rough stone walls of this large room are decorated with a mix of bones, broken weapons, and scorched tapestries. Several charred goblin bodies lie fallen around the room, their surroundings blackened. To the north sits the throne - half collapsed and still smoldering. A charred and very dead goblin sits slumped within it, somehow undisturbed despite the change to the throne. Four surviving goblin are clustered around the throne, including Gurlunk. All of them sport burn injuries but are otherwise on their feet. Three of them look quite dazed, while Gurlunk is criticizing them rapid-fire in goblin. Several of them twitch in panic when you enter, interrupting Gurlunk. He turns to face you.
You can't help but notice that the four of them are equipped with your gear.
"Best be on guard. They might not be friendly this time."
“They weren’t so friendly last time either,” Autumn whispers back to San with a confident grin. “Just follow my lead and translate into Goblin.”
After the goblin chieftain turns his attention to their entrance, the sorceress boldly steps forward and performs an exaggerated bow. “Greetings, great Gurlunk!” she says in respectful Common, with a quick side glance at San to translate her words. “We return to finish our task, but …” she surveys the room, noting the scorch marks on the walls and the burned goblins on the floor, “… perhaps you have already killed Ripnugget yourselves? Such skill and fortitude!” She speaks with grand gestures, as if trying to also convey her intent through body language.
“I see that you have made good use of our gear—well done!” Autumn gives the four goblins a broad, friendly smile of approval, as if not the least bit bothered by their loss of equipment. “Are you four now going further down into the Pit to kill the Devil’s Disciples and reclaim your old lair? How brave of you!” She gives them all an exceedingly low bow in honor of their courage.
“Of course, we were planning to rid the Pit of the Devil’s Disciples after killing Ripnugget, but we are happy to see you brave warriors using our gear to go in our stead.” Her smile grows even broader.
Once San translates Gurlunk scowls and spits on the floor. He answers in goblin "You're not dead, and many Whistlefangs are. He Whose Breath is Death is cruel."
"And since you are not a meal, now Lord Longfingers will think we have crossed him as well. Taking away our part of the trade for his children's help." He looks towards the previously secret northern door to the library. "Ripnugget is gone. We thought you had weakened him. He wasn't weak. He took what he wanted, killed who he wanted, and left." Autumn's flattery is well conveyed, but Gurlunk seems too preoccupied with the disaster that took place here to accept it. On the other hand, he doesn't seem hostile, though there's a clear undercurrent of resentment in his tone.
Perhaps speaking out of turn, San tries to reassure the goblin chief, "We made our own deal with Lord Longfingers to not be meals for him and his kin. We did not escape, we were released. Your responsibility should be fulfilled. And we had weakened Ripnugget... I put quite a few arrows in him myself! He was still able to overpower us all though... I'm sorry your tribe was impacted." There is genuine sadness that the goblins paid the price for the group's failure. After a moment of silence, he explains what he just said for those that don't understand Goblin.
Seconding San, Autumn lowers her head in a show of sympathetic sorrow. “We mourn your losses.” she says solemnly. After waiting for a respectful amount of time, she gestures at the four other goblins and asks, in a commiserative voice, “Is this all that remains of the Whistlefangs? What of Minargul and the others?”
She looks down for a long moment, then adds “Did Lord Longfingers send his spiders to help fight Ripnugget?” She looks at the burned corpses. “I’m sorry that they failed too,” she says sympathetically, even as she’s subtly spreading the blame for not killing Ripnugget.
After another pause Autumn looks up. “Did you say Ripnugget took what he wanted? What did he take?”
Morga observes the moment of silence for the fallen goblins. "We are so sorry. Is there anything we can do to honor them?" She gestures to the burnt corpses. "What are the Whistlefang's customs when a warrior falls in battle?"
After Autumn asks about Ripnugget, Morga translates and adds: "Do you know where Ripnugget went? If we run into him without our gear and weapons after we leave here, he might think you sent us to attack him again and return to finish you off for meddling. It would be best if we could avoid him until we are properly prepared to face him. If only Minargul had told us more about what he could do, and given us time to prepare more appropriate spells..." Morga shakes her head, sensing Autumn's intent to spread the blame.
"Took what he wanted"? Ye gods I hope it's not any of our stuff.
Vildran looks for the goblin dressed as their "mage" and hopes to spot his spellbook, or at least his pack looking just as bulky as before.
Gurlunk is surprised by your sympathy. He listens as San translates before answering you each in turn "Lord Longfingers will not be happy either way. His children burned as much as our own. Maybe we will leave him alone for a while." To Autumn he adds "Not all. Some went after Ripnugget. They haven't come back. Some others are recovering. Minargul is looking for a vision from He Whose Breath is Death. No point in that. Everyone can see what the Smoke-Mouthed Father thinks of us." He pauses "We will survive."
"Ripnugget is no goblin any longer. He took many books from inside that place. There's nothing good in his head any longer that they can steal, I think." He points to the library where you encountered Ripnugget. "Luckily most of the books burned."
At Morga's questions he shakes his head "Honor? We'll throw them into the Pit. He Whose Breath is Death will take them. Maybe that will please him?" He seems to ponder this seriously for a bit before turning to Morga's other question "Ripnugget left our home and the Pit. There are some who chased after him, but none who came back. Wherever he is is too close. You too - have brought nothing good. Minargul was wrong to bring you, and wrong to bring those other longshanks. She... is often wrong." He turns the thought over in his head.
As for Vildran's stuff - he sees his pack in one ash covered corner of the room but no sign of his spellbook. His pack looks rather diminished. Vildran can't help but recall that goblins tend to view written materials are dangerous and unwelcome.
Autumn is keen to seize on the Smoke-Mouthed Father’s seeming disapproval and Minargul’s past mistakes. “Did the Whistlefangs always worship the Smoke-Mouthed Father?” she asks innocently. “Or only after Minargul urged you to?” She glances down at the dead again, maintaining a sorrowful expression. “Your tribe seems to have faced a great many trials. When did all your troubles begin?”
Gurlunk grunts affirmatively before he thinks for a bit "Not always. When we came here, that's when. Last chief went down into the Pit and came back saying that he met the Smoke-Mouthed Father. Minargul was with him. If we live here, we always should remember who has power in the Pit. That's what he said." He nods. "Chief Shrilltooth was smart and strong." He glances at the other goblins before puffing out his chest "Like me."
"Still, problems started with the first longshanks. The ones who said they followed the Smoke-Mouthed Father as well. Black betrayers, all of them." He looks at Autumn with visible suspicion, clearly not above lumping longshanks into categories together.
"Still, problems started with the first longshanks. The ones who said they followed the Smoke-Mouthed Father as well. Black betrayers, all of them."
Seemingly unbothered by Gurlunk’s suspicion—if anything, she seems to understand his prejudice against longshanks—Autumn shakes her head and lets out a remorseful sigh. “It’s a sad but unfortunate truth—there are some humans you just can’t trust. And those first humans sound like the worst of the bunch. Imagine lying about following the Smoke-Mouthed Father!” She shakes her head again with indignant disbelief. “Sometimes I wish our race was as honest and honorable as you goblins.”
She looks down again at the dead, then raises her eyes hopefully. “I’m so sorry we weren’t able to defeat Ripnugget for you earlier—he had so many ghouls and sinspawn with him that had to be killed first—we couldn’t defeat them all at once. But at least he’s alone now … and we intend to finish our job. To keep our word and be true. We were sent here to kill Ripnugget, and that’s what we’ll do.”
Autumn looks at the goblins wearing their gear. “But we’ll need our equipment to do so, unless you’re planning on sending these four after him?” She looks questioningly at Gurlunk, then, realizing that perhaps he’s had enough of the undead goblin and just doesn’t care anymore, adds “At the very least we can find the goblins who went after him and didn’t come back.” She looks again at the pitifully small audience. “You really can’t afford to lose any more of your followers.”
"Last chief went down into the Pit and came back saying that he met the Smoke-Mouthed Father. Minargul was with him. If we live here, we always should remember who has power in the Pit. That's what he said."
Morga cocks her head. "What did he tell you about the Smoke-Mouthed Father? I ask because Minargul's description when we tested her was vague enough that we couldn't tell if she really met him."
Gurlunk seems to more or less agree with Autumn, following her fairly theatrical comments with whistles and nods. When she asks for the group's gear back he's quite hesitant. But as he thinks it over some more he reaches a solution that's to your benefit "You failed to kill Ripnugget before... but whether you kill him or die to him, so long as you go after him somewhere else, we'll be better off. And maybe you have a chance. Not every hunt goes quick." He beckons to the others and asks them to hand over the "borrowed" gear. "BUT! Don't bring Ripnugget back here. He found what he wanted from us, and we want no more of him. Bring back any Whistlefangs you find, but not Ripnugget." He speaks firmly.
While the other goblins dig up your scattered gear, Gurlunk answers Morga's question. "Just that he is great and terrible. We could earn his favor if we did the right things. But also if we strayed deep, we would taste his anger." He gets a distant look "You can hear the Smoke Mouthed Father sometimes. Deep below. The howling. So powerful."
Vildran brushes off his spellbook at length and flips through the pages to check for tears and burns.
While still looking over the book he remarks to the goblins.
You were wise to return these! You might not have even known how to use half of the equipment. We can make better use of this against ripnugget.
Autumn nods solemnly in response to Gurlunk. “Alive or dead, you will never see Ripnugget again,” she promises with her hand held over her heart. “And we will rescue any Whistlefangs we might find.” She gratefully retrieves her gear, then notices their wizard openly perusing through his spellbook.
“Really?!” she exclaims at the mage in an incredulous voice for the benefit of the goblins. “You’re opening a book—filled with writing—right in front of our goblin hosts?! Shut that thing at once!” She turns and bows apologetically to Gurlunk. “Please excuse Vildran. The words stole his mind long ago—but he’s really quite harmless, even though he clearly has no common sense whatsoever. We shall bother you no longer.” She makes shooing motions to the others, urging them to leave the Whistlefang lair immediately. They have their lives and their gear—she has no intention of pushing their luck any further. She will chalk today down as a ‘success’.
Gratefully, Morga grabs her gear and slides her shield over her arm. She bows to Gurlunk (who would've ever thought she'd bow to a goblin?) and assists in hustling Vildran out the door.
"Of course, we know he went down. But how far before he left the open shaft?" She mumbles.
When Vildran inspects his pack he finds that not only is his spellbook missing, but so is anything else with obvious potential to be covered in written text. The same proves true for the rest of your gear. Your goblin acquaintances explain that they threw away all the dangerous words into the place where Ripnugget was previously hiding - the Thassilonian Library where you encountered him.
You poke your heads into the room behind the secret door. The Library is badly damaged by flame, surfaces blackened by fireballs and Ripnugget's own burning torrents. The walls of this ten-foot-high chamber are of soot-covered white stone with redwood paneling running along the lower two feet, trimmed in gold. The floor is polished red stone, with a large inset gold seven-pointed star inlaid in the floor. Wooden shelves filled with books, tablets, and scrolls stand in the room or sit against the walls. Most of the ones near the center of the room have been knocked over and ransacked, or have burned up during the struggle. To the east and west, three steps lead up to ten-foot-wide alcoves, in each of which sits a black stone platform edged in gold runes and adorned with another gold inlaid seven-pointed star. Two hideous dead bodies lie in a heap on the eastern platform.
Of the room's contents, you notice that your own written items have been tossed in one corner - luckily one that was not still smoldering when they were deposited there. You also notice that the west half of the room has remained relatively unscathed. There are still a significant number of books and scrolls here that likely date from the time of Ancient Thassilon.
After figuring out the location of Vildran’s spellbook—and more importantly, her own scrolls—Autumn says to Gurlunk “We’ll spend some time searching the library for a clue as to where Ripnugget went and what he’s up to. Then we shall leave you in peace. Thank you again for your understanding.”
Inside the scorched library, she reclaims her three scrolls and hands over the mage’s precious grimoire. “We’re lucky the goblins didn’t burn these too,” she comments, then proceeds to scour the library for anything of value, ignoring what she said about finding clues about Ripnugget. We should at least get something out of this debacle, she thinks to herself. “San, see if you can find any magical items.”
The wizard frantically and anxiously digs deeper in his pack, hoping beyond hope his spellbook is at the bottom. You think he might even crawl into it and dig through the rock below it.
Once they get into the library Vildran dives for his spellbook, possibly even knocking his skull on the wall as he gathers it up in his arms. After wiping dust and dirt off of it he takes a moment to collect other scrolls he'd previously had packed away.
He gets to work looking for additional scrolls and magical items.
After that, if allowed time he does thumb through some ancient Thassilonian texts. After all of that, and getting his spellbook back, his academic fascinations remain.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
-
-
Despite the damage to the library, the wealth of ancient texts here can not be understated. A brief perusal finds them to be written in Ancient Thassilonian and seem to primarily cover written records of events that likely happened prior to Earthfall. There are mentions of many names and locations, few familiar to you. You get the sense that this place might be an excellent resource for research into the activity of Runelords and their minions that may have existed in this area. . Alternatively, its clear that if you could get all of these books out of here they could be reasonably valuable to anyone interested in such topics , such as Brodert Quink or an organization like the Runewatchers.
Finally, while the gold runes edging the platforms to the east and west mean nothing to Autumn, Vildran recognizes enough to piece together that these were once powerful magical teleportation circles. They've long since been drained of power, but a sufficiently magically skilled individual with a significant power source might be able to return them to some limited functional capacity.
Morga looks up from perusing the books. "Autumn, you should ask Gerlunk if he'd be interested in some longshanks paying or trading the Whistlefangs to get rid of these books for them."
Vildran's certain that it's magical, but after 10 minutes of study he's not quite able to confirm its properties.
Vildran notes the wealth of books.
I need to work out an extraction operation with Brodert!
"Autumn, you should ask Gerlunk if he'd be interested in some longshanks paying or trading the Whistlefangs to get rid of these books for them."
Autumn shakes her head. “Now is so not the time. I’m sure he’s had enough of longshanks for a while.” She pauses, thinking. “Maybe if we can rescue some Whistlefangs for him? We need to wait for his mood to improve.”
She holds out the platinum ring to San. “Any idea what this does?” Then she wanders the room, making sure she didn’t overlook anything, and eyes the two hideous corpses on the eastern platform. “Any idea what those are?” she asks out of idle curiosity, even as she wrinkles her nose in disgust.
Even though he's seen it with his own eyes multiple times now, San is still impressed with the way Autumn can convince being to bend to her will.
As he lets the familiar weight of his gear settle on his shoulders again, San notices Vildran's panic as he looks through his pack. Remembering the goblins' distrust of things with writing, San puts together the logic that his spellbook must be missing. Not knowing the intricacies but understanding the effort that goes in to collecting the magical writing, San keeps the concern from showing externally. Thankfully the book is found, ironically enough, in the library.
Once it's time to investigate the room in greater detail, San and Vildran exchange ideas about what this or that could have been in a previous life.
Then she wanders the room, making sure she didn’t overlook anything, and eyes the two hideous corpses on the eastern platform. “Any idea what those are?” she asks out of idle curiosity, even as she wrinkles her nose in disgust.
"Are they any of the things we fought earlier?" Morga meanders over to get a look as well.
As for the corpses that Autumn goes over to investigate, she finds the pair of them are burned and mangled, making it difficult to tell exactly what they are. It's only after she spots a long shriveled tongue that she realizes these are two sinspawn that much have been killed here previously. She's not sure exactly what befell them or when they died. However it doesn't seem like it could have been recently.