Ghaernan turns sharply at the sound of the high-pitched shriek, and watches the little humanoid's flight down the steps with incredulity...
"Hmmm; did we just startle a 'smurf', or some such blue-skinned creature?"
"I can't perceive a great deal of threat from that wee beastie, and otherwise find myself in agreement with Khalid. We've already learned a great deal thus far in this exploration, and as Pathfinders have much to report upon even as we replenish our magics and perhaps our supplies, to better deal with such diverse threats as we've encountered.'
"We haven't found the item we came here looking for. The blue creature might have information."
Verilich will pursue and attempt to chat with the creature.
"We mean you no harm if you intend us no harm. We are looking for something made of a peculiar metal. Might you know something about this? Perhaps we can trade for the information?"
Caius gestures toward the pool... "Perhaps...."
Verilich takes to wing and chases the blue creature down the steps, to another level, and down a hall. He sees the creature off in the distance, as well as some 10' tall piles of dirt.
In response to Ghaernan's message spell questioning, "I'm pursuing a little blue humanoid down, which incidentally is the direction of the shard. I have found a room with over 10' tall dirt mounds. These could be tunnels to a lower level maybe. Are you coming?"
Ghaernan receives and relays Verelich's reconnaissance to the rest of the companions, now assembled roughly around the pool in the aftermath of the combats...
The Bard responds after gathering a consensus from the others.
"Good report. Our powers of magic are spent, however, and we've lost any element of surprise. Khalid's suggestion is a sound one, to rest and document our search thus far. We can do so within this great pillar, and resume the pursuit with our powers restored..."
"So is that a suggestion to call off pursuit of the blue man?"
”Confirmed…for the moment.”
Verilich will stop progressing forward and observe the blue man's actions until he goes out of sight. Then return to the group and report.
He goes another 10' away, and I believe he drops out of sight for you.
Khalid anticipates the trip back to town and a goods night rest.
Verilich comes back to the group and reports that the blue thing never responded to verbal questioning and went out of sight, when the pursuit was called off.
Alright, so what's the plan? Back to town?
Yes.
With the immediate threats defeated and the first four levels of the bridge piling cleared, the adventurers gathered themselves for the journey back to civilization. The ruins had given up many secrets—and their fair share of blood—but for now, the wiser course was to retreat, regroup, and resupply.
They retraced their steps through the winding corridors, passing the fallen bodies of the Tower Girls and the scorched remains of the monstrous guardians they had overcome. The familiar scent of salt and sea air grew stronger as they pressed onward, until at last they emerged into the open light of day.
Their boat bobbed patiently in the small harbor below. At a glance, it appeared untouched—still seaworthy, still where they had left it. Relief washed over the group...until they drew closer.
There, on one of the worn oar seats, was an unmistakable and unwelcome sight.
Someone had left an upper decker.
It had cooled considerably in the intervening hours, but the offense to the senses remained potent. A grim silence hung over the party as they stood there, surveying the disgusting gift.
Glances were exchanged. Suspicions aired. Quiet accusations muttered. A few imaginative theories floated about regarding the culprits—passing seagulls, jealous smugglers, even rival adventurers—but no firm culprit could be named.
In the end, practicality won out. With a grim sense of duty, they set to work, **liberally applying both magic and saltwater** to scrub away all traces of the offense. By the time they finished, the boat was cleaner than when they had first boarded it.
They pushed off from the piling as the first hints of dusk bled across the sky, the tide carrying them back toward the city. The rhythm of the oars against the water, the coolness of the evening air, and the satisfaction of survival made the passage back to shore a quiet, companionable one.
Crossing town as the last golds and purples of sunset faded, they arrived once more at the familiar doors of the Sleeping Dragon Inn.
The warmth of the common room spilled out into the street, carrying with it the smells of roasting meat and fresh bread. Within, the innkeeper recognized them at once, waving them inside with a broad smile.
"Back from another adventure, are you? Come in, come in—seats by the fire for you lot!"
The journey had been hard, but the welcome was easy. For tonight, at least, they were home.
"Gundar, do you want any of these spoils before we sell them all?"
Khalid comes down later than the others, descending the stairs into the common room of The Sleeping Dragon with a slow glance around. He’s holding a satchel in one hand, awkwardly cradled against his side in a way that clearly isn’t natural. Something beneath it shifts. Twitches.
He makes his way to the table and sits, stiffly. There's no cloak, no clever disguise — just careful posture and a faint sheen of sweat on his brow.
“Sorry. Was up half the night. Tried a few new mutagen batches. Some extract work too.”
He adjusts the satchel slightly, then leans back just enough to let the others see — for a moment — the third arm pressed close to his torso. The skin is smooth, ashen like the rest of him, but clearly new. The fingers flex once, deliberately.
“This happened.”
He pulls the satchel back into place with a grunt.
“Any jokes and you’ll find out just how strong it is.” The threat comes out dry, but not entirely unserious.
“I’ll need new armor. Something that fits... this.” He gestures vaguely. “And a cloak. Big one. Don’t need half the city pointing.”
“Might look for a shield too. Helps in a fight. Helps with stares.”
He drums fingers — normal ones — on the edge of the table.
“Let’s see what we can get for all the gear we picked off the Tower Girls and whatever else we’re not keeping. Last chance to claim anything.”
He glances to each of them in turn, then adds:
“Also — anyone write up what happened yesterday? I didn’t. Too much going on. Wererats, all of it.” A shrug. “Could ask Andel to help. Seems like his kind of job.”
Better than letting the Society make up their own version.
Caius, already seated near the fire with a tankard of ale in hand, raises an eyebrow as Khalid descends the stairs, the satchel clutched oddly to his side. At the first sight of the twitch beneath the fabric, Caius sets down his drink and leans forward slightly, his molten orange eyes narrowing—not in alarm, but in appraisal.
As the third arm is revealed, if only for a moment, Caius utters a low grunt. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t scowl. Just tilts his head, as though considering the implications like a craftsman sizing up a new tool.
He lifts his tankard again, voice steady with that ever-present edge of sarcasm. “I suppose if it helps you block blades and brew faster, I’ll withhold judgment.” He takes a drink, then adds with a smirk, “Though if that thing reaches for my ale, it’s war.”
“Didn’t write a thing. He glances toward the bar. “Get Andel a strong drink, and he might turn our rat-slaying, shard-chasing, third-arm-growing mess into something the Decemvirate can stomach.”
After sharing their stories for Andel to record, the companions made their way through the markets and specialist shops of Magnimar, selling what they’d recovered from the tower and outfitting themselves with new gear. All told, the spoils came to 1,303 gp, 3 sp, and 5 cp each. Khalid returned to the inn later that day with reworked armor, a large new shield, a heavy cloak to better conceal his new… condition, and a freshly silvered earth breaker resting across his back.
Khalid snorts as he drops his newly acquired gear beside the table — the glint of silver on the earth breaker unmistakable in the firelight.
“This should come in handy if we run into any more of those lycanthropes,” he says, voice even. The third hand, momentarily free, adjusts the cloak’s edge before vanishing beneath the fabric again.
Verilich will seek out knowledge from the Venture Captain and describe the little blue man as best as he can to ask what she knows of it.
Khalid's expression is unreadable for a moment, then he speaks — not loud, but with that quiet certainty that means he’s been thinking on something for a while.
“That thing we saw before we left the tower,” he says, eyes on the table. “Small. Blue. Big ears. I kept thinking about it last night.”
He pauses, then nods once to himself.
“Mite. It’s a type of fey — weak, but common. They’re good at crawling into holes and causing problems. Worse, they can control vermin. Real ones.”
He scratches at his jaw, the faintest frown tugging at his mouth.
“I doubt we will need it against Mites, but if we run into more fey, cold iron should work. That’s what cuts fey the best.”
Not that I thought about getting any while I was shopping.
He shrugs a little and shifts in his seat again, adjusting the new cloak to keep the third arm out of sight.
"Well that is good to know but I think a little expensive for shopping at this time, unless we think the pathfinders society may allow us to borrow some of those types of weapons given this intelligence?"
Verilich will inquire of the group as he is a new pathfinder and does not know what the rules in this area are.
”Verelich, as Venture Captain Heidmarch explained when you first became one of us, your service as a Pathfinder earns you fame and prestige. The Society can indeed assist you, although not in a “borrowing” capacity; agents don’t always return from their missions, after all. Instead, the Pathfinders have built a network of allies and resources precisely for such needs, and you can draw upon your standing to secure what you require before embarking further, seeking what you need at the Lodge’s stores or through Society contacts in Magnimar. The very wand of healing that Gundar has used to seal your wounds is such an example…”
Morning light slanted through the windows of the Sleeping Dragon Inn, casting a golden glow across the table where the adventurers sat, deep in the final stages of a well-earned breakfast. Plates had once groaned under the weight of hearty fare—crispy sausages, thick slabs of ham, fried potatoes with peppers and onions, buttered rolls, eggs done every way imaginable, and sweet fruit preserves on still-warm bread. Now, only crumbs and the occasional streak of jam remained, testaments to the group’s appetites and recent exertions.
Verilich, seated at the end of the table, had eaten with an energy that bordered on ravenous. His plate, now bare, had included something the others had politely avoided eye contact with—a small dish of pickled fish heads, their cloudy eyes and sharp little teeth still intact. The wyvaran crunched through them with apparent delight, never once looking up as he devoured the last of the bones.
Ghaernan leaned back with a satisfied sigh, carefully dabbing the corner of his mouth with a linen napkin. Gundar drained the last of his ale (his idea of a breakfast beverage), while Caius and Khalid settled up the bill, exchanging coins with the innkeeper and murmuring thanks.
As they gathered their gear and made ready to depart, the innkeeper—Durell, stout and smiling with flour still on her sleeves—stepped forward from behind the counter with a cheerful grin. She held five cloth sacks, each neatly tied with twine.
“Before you run off again,” she said warmly, “a little something to keep you strong through the day.”
She handed one sack to each of them. Inside, they could feel the weight of thick sandwiches layered with meat and cheese, hard-boiled eggs, apples, and wedges of sharp white cheese, with a small, sweet pastry tucked into the bottom of each.
“Your table will be waiting when you get back,” she added with a wink.
With nods of thanks and the warmth of good food in their bellies, the group stepped back into the morning light—provisioned, refreshed, and ready for whatever the day would bring.
"Shall we proceed as we did before?" Verilich presumes there will be no arguments and launches into the air as the aerial scout through the town back to the docks for the others to find Waterbourne transport back to the mite lair.
The party, refreshed, somewhat lighter in the pockets, and better equipped and ready for anything makes the trek back out to The Crow. Up the levels and back down, to where Verilich stopped his pursuit.
You see the previously described dirt mounds in the large room ahead of you.
Verilich flies forward and stops at the entrance and does something he hasn't done before....he hovers above the ground and searches for what is new to his memory.
On the way in, Khalid paused to consider the yellow dust again.
Khalid determines that the yellow dust is the remains of a trap of ungol dust that the Tower Girls must have discovered and disarmed. There is no value in the dust.
Refreshed and ready for new challenges, the group left the comforts of the Sleeping Dragon behind and returned to the gloom of the ancient ruins. Their boots echoed once more against cold stone, the air growing cooler and heavier with each step as they moved through familiar passageways and deeper into the unknown.
As they approached the next chamber, the corridor spilled into darkness—the party slowed, instincts sharp. With a silent nod, they sent Verilich forward once again.
The wyvaran beat his wings lightly and rose into the air, gliding ahead into the open space. His vision pierced the shadows with ease, casting the chamber in stark contrast under the cold clarity of his darkvision.
The room ahead was broad and deep, stretching a full sixty feet or more before its far wall faded into the dim haze.
Six irregular mounds of earthbroke the surface of the stone floor—damp, uneven, and rising three to four feet high, Their placement felt deliberate but not orderly, scattered across the room like the disturbed remains of graves or nests. Verilich hovered above one, wings whispering against the stale air. The mound looked freshly made. No tools. No footprints. Just piled dirt, clumped and dark. Each mound did have a bit of a volcano shape to it, with a hole down the middle.
His flight took him in a slow circuit around the room, and as he reached the far side, he noted another corridor branching out to the north, disappearing into deeper darkness.
No movement stirred below him. But everything about the scene felt wrong—like the room was holding its breath.
Something was waiting.
Verilich flies back down the hallway and lands to report. "There are six mounds of earth in the next very large room. It seems odd because the floors are stone and their placement feels deliberate. These may be graves or nests but I could not determine which with my flyover. We could perhaps toss some stones into the room to disturb the mounds or we can carefully avoid the mounds of earth--hoping to bypass whatever trickery this is. unfortunately, my previous pursuit was called off before I could tell what the mite did in this room to provide additional intel. others' thoughts?"
From Verilich's description, Gundar will try to remember if these sound like any burial rites he is familiar with.
Gundar can't come up with anything that fits the motif.
Ain't no burial rites I'm familiar with, but that doesn't mean they aren't. Could be something else entirely! Gundar states without shedding any illumination on the quandary.
Khalid listens in silence as Verilich and Gundar finish their reports. His gaze stays fixed down the hallway, expression unreadable.
He gives a short nod once the monk finishes speaking.
“Let’s not walk into a trap just to be polite.”
He moves up the hallway quietly, taking position just before the room’s threshold. He leans down to collect a few loose stones from the floor. His movements are measured, economical. The new shield on his third arm shifts slightly, testing its balance.
“If it’s nothing, we’ll know. If it’s something...” He shrugs. Better to fight in this hallway where we can protect the support.
Once the Caius is in place at his side, he tosses a stone underhand into the room, aiming to land it just shy of the closest mound — not too hard, not too soft. Just enough to make a presence known.
He steps back half a pace and waits, horsechopper ready to intercept the first thing that may awaken.
Seeing Khalid is going to take the suggestion to toss stones, Verilich will resume his aerial recon to see if he notices movement.
At the landing sound of the stone, a creature stirs in the closest mound, and emerges from the top of it.
Initiative
Caius <== Up!
Ghaernan <== Up!
Verilich <== Up!
Khalid <== Up!
Gundar <== Up!
A
Caius steps forward 10 feet and hurls a javelin at the only visible bug.
x2 P 30'
Caius misses.