Now that he has it into a vial, Khalid (and Ghaernan) are better able to distinguish the nature of the waters. They believe that the potion in those bottles combines a cure light wounds (for 1d8+3) and lesser restoration. However, they can also discern that once removed from the fountain the water immediately started to lose its enchantment and that after 8 hours, the potion will be useless. Also, in a curious hitch, a person can only benefit from this potion once per day.
"How is this pool possible? Could some artifact be creating this pool?"
He peers into the waters, trying to discern any items or markings within.
Once Caius is satisfied, Khalid will give everyone an 8 hour potion and follow the monk deeper into the tower.
Verilich will gladly take an 8 hour potion and continue scouting ahead.
Nodding in both thanks to the Alchemist for the vial of the healing waters and satisfaction at the results from using his evolving powers of lore and discernment, Ghaernan walks about the pool, studying its structure and swirling patterns while continuing his graceful gestures and articulate mantras...
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Having gathered samples and closely examined the pool, the party paused in reverent silence, letting the cool, clear water ripple gently in the light. The potion Khalid collected shimmered faintly at first—but already the glow had begun to dull, the enchantment leaching away slowly with each passing minute.
Ghaernan, his eyes alight with the deeper rhythm of the Word and the Way, circled the fountain with flowing grace, reciting soft mantras and gesturing with open hands. As he studied the tiled vortex at the pool’s base, a dozen threads of meaning began to weave together into a more complete understanding.
From his deep knowledge of planar lore, Ghaernan realized the pool may represent a stable point of transplanar influence, a nexus between the Material Plane and one or more subtle threads of the Positive Energy Plane—but filtered through a more refined, focused structure. This is not raw positive energy, but structured conjuration magic, likely interwoven with restorative divine principles—the sort associated with lesser restoration.
The effect is deliberately bounded, both spatially and temporally. The healing magic suffuses the pool, but once removed, it begins to decay—not unlike planar energies drawn too far from their source. Ghaernan discerns that the “once-per-day” limit on healing may be the result of resonance, wherein the magical essence of a creature interacts with the pool only once before becoming 'attuned' and rejected by the matrix until the next dawn.
Meanwhile, Caius, peering into the water, sees no object at the center—no stone, no device, no idol. But the design of the tiles themselves—that spiraling, swirling pattern—has the hypnotic repetition of a glyph-lattice, common in Thassilonian-era spellbinding. The runework is hidden in artistry, but unmistakable to the trained eye.
Ghaernan's knowledge of engineering confirms that the pool and its drainage design are not meant to contain water in a traditional sense, but to focus and hold divine charge. There is no inlet or outlet visible—this is not a natural spring, but a purpose-built magical construct.
His mind racing through ancient tales and obscure architectural lore, Ghaernan also considers several possibilities:
The fountain could be a fragment of a greater artifact, its master source long lost or buried deeper beneath the ruins.
It may be tied to a forgotten guardian spirit or dormant outsider, now absent but still influencing the material plane through sympathetic magic.
Alternatively, it may be sustained by the lingering will of a powerful spellcaster, a creator’s final gift etched into the very stone.
Most interestingly, Ghaernan cannot rule out the possibility that the pool is self-renewing—not through automation or machinery, but through an ancient ritualized binding, perhaps interacting subtly with the ley lines that run beneath the Irespan piling itself. In this theory, the pool is essentially a well, not of water, but of slowly recharging planar essence—constrained and filtered to promote healing and restoration without drawing the attention of greater powers.
The implications for further study are vast. If stabilized and understood, such a pool could aid wounded Pathfinders, cure diseases, or even act as a limited convergence point for planar experiments. But if disturbed—or worse, corrupted—it could also become a vector for wild magic, uncontrolled summoning, or worse.
For now, it remains a marvel of magical craftsmanship, lost to time but not yet gone. A treasure not of gold, but of knowledge and potential.
Accepting that we simply do not know how the magic fountain retains its power, Caius will stow his 8 hour potion.
Verilich swept forward through the eastern corridor. The air was heavier here—cold, stale, and touched with the faint coppery scent of old rust and older pain.
The chamber beyond was broad and low-ceilinged, shaped like a stone pit carved into the bones of the ruin. From the north, a narrow set of worn stairs descended into the room, their edges rounded by centuries of passage. At the western wall, a massive stone door stood shut, its surface veined with cracks but still imposing—its hinges thick and green with age.
To the east, the corridor Verilich had just flown through split the line of cell doors, each made of rusty iron bars. The cells beyond were little more than shadows—empty, or perhaps not quite empty enough.
Scattered across the floor, Verilich saw the remains of torture instruments, long since abandoned. A stretched wooden rack lay half-collapsed near the center, its frame cracked and the turning wheel missing. Iron maidens gaped open like the maws of silent sentinels, their inner spikes dulled by time and rust. Chains hung limply from the walls, some still bearing ancient, crumbling leather manacles or pitted shackles fused shut by corrosion.
The room spoke of cruelty long past, its horrors not banished, but simply forgotten. Dust lay thick over everything, disturbed now only by the slow beat of Verilich’s wings. His presence stirred the silence, but nothing stirred back—
—yet.
A place once built for screams, now long emptied of breath.
Ghaernan pauses for several seconds in reverential silence at the importance of this discovery, then resolutely secures his vial and walks almost regretfully onward.
”The significance of this wellspring of magic cannot be overemphasized; the Pathfinders will need to move and secure this place for further study and even protection as soon as possible upon our next return to the Lodge. The power of the ancient lore in this pool’s origins is profound…”
The Bard pauses next at the edge of Khalid’s light, his own enhanced vision still keeping Verelich in sight as he enters an ominous chamber beyond…
Gundar nods his head at Ghaernan's words. It would be great if someone could make the waters of the pool last longer. The benefit to folks would be huge.
Khalid will move forward and help search the area for further clues.
If we don't find anything, he will suggest to Verilich that we complete this level before trying the stairs.
Khalid stepped down the worn stone hallway, his boots echoing softly in the silence left behind by Verilich’s flight. The heavy air carried with it the scent of rust, mildew, and something older—dank stone and long-forgotten suffering.
He moved cautiously past the crumbling torture devices, sweeping his gaze toward the eastern cells lining the wall. The southern cell was dark and choked with dust, its floor coated in a thick layer of debris and crumbled masonry. Nothing stirred within.
But as he turned his gaze to the northern cell, something caught his eye.
At first, it seemed a trick of shadow—a hunched shape half-hidden near the back of the cell. But then it shifted.
A shiver of motion revealed a twisted, hairless figure, its pale skin stretched tight over an emaciated frame. It lurched forward slightly, moving on back-bent, canine legs that gave it an unnatural, beast-like gait.
Its face was the worst of it—a hideous, wide mouth, toothy and wet, flanked on either side by tiny, malformed arms, each ending in three clawed fingers that twitched with slow, deliberate rhythm.
It did not snarl. It did not speak. It simply stared through the rusted bars at Khalid, unblinking.
Something in its stillness suggested awareness.
And something in its form suggested hunger.
Khalid paused a few paces from the bars, lowering his blade slightly but keeping it ready at his side. The creature’s eyes glimmered in the gloom, reflecting the faint light of his wayfinder.
“Easy there… I know what you are.” His voice was calm, measured—half warning, half curiosity. “A sinspawn, shaped from the echoes of old corruption. You’ve been here a long time, haven’t you?”
He studied the warped figure a moment longer, its twitching claws and hollow frame stirring both pity and unease.
“Tell me—what sin binds you? Wrath? Envy? Or something fouler still?”
He took a slow breath, eyes flicking to the lock. “If you can still think… still speak… maybe there’s something left of you worth hearing before we decide your fate.”
As Kahlid moves into the creatures view and speaks to it, its visage becomes one of hate, and it flies into a rage. It begins beating on the bars, and the floor, and running around in angry circles, and then back to the bars, trying to reach Khalid and tear him limb from limb.
Ghaernan moves fully into the chamber upon hearing Khalid's words, to stand in the relative security of the space between him and Verelich. The Bard studies the imprisoned, twisted creature as it rages against the bars, reflecting upon any further potential insights...
Ghaernan's reflections offer a few additional insights...
"Khalid has rightly named this poor aberrant creature a Sinspawn, literally the corrupt embodiment of some form of sin made flesh by ancient Thassilonian spellcasters. Much of my magic, or anything affecting the mind, has little to no effect upon them.'
"Beware closing with them as well; their "sinful" bites are supernaturally poisonous, and mentally disabling. When not driven insane from untold years of imprisonment, they can also prove as cunning as a human. Let's finish him quickly from out-of-reach, if you don't mind..."
Very well let's use missile weapons and cantrips. Khalid will stand ready to trip him if he somehow escapes the prison. I don't think his weapons will be effective through the bars and I'd prefer to keep his limited bomb stash full.
The party easily manages to kill the sin spawn using ranged weapons.
Khalid will search and then continue following the monk's exploration.
The corridor widened, and the party emerged into a vast, damp grotto, the air suddenly thick with humidity and the scent of wet stone. The ceiling soared forty feet above, vanishing into shadows broken only by the flickering edges of their light.
To the north, a row of thick brick columns rose like ancient tree trunks, supporting the chamber’s weight with crumbling stoicism. The walls glistened with condensation, and the sound of slow-dripping water echoed faintly through the chamber.
At the southern end, the floor lifted into a broad, low dais, its edges softened by age and erosion. There, gleaming slick with moss and mold, stood a statue of a beautiful woman, carved in arresting detail. Her expression was serene, but her stance was firm, one hand clutching a tall, stylized ranseur, its blade catching the light like the edge of a whisper.
But even as the group took in the grandeur of the space, a sharp clicking echoed from above.
From the rough stone wall, halfway between ceiling and floor, a crab-like monstrosity the size of a man scuttled into view. Its glossy exoskeleton shimmered with moisture, and its massive pincers clacked open and shut in rhythmic threat. It moved with unnatural ease across the vertical surface, its many legs clinging effortlessly to the rock, as if gravity held no sway over it.
The creature paused only a moment—then began to descend, its pincers raised, its eyeless face fixed in unnatural stillness.
It was coming straight for them.
And it meant to kill.
Round 1
Caius <== Up!
Khalid <== Up!
Gundar <== Up!
Ghaernan <== Up!
Verilich <== Up!
Monster
"There is a secret door behind the statue we should investigate after we deal with this."
Verilich takes flight (5'up) and moves then, stop hovers and readies to strike it when it comes into melee range.
Caius easily notices the secret door mentioned by Verilich and nods. He "studies" the crab, noting its characteristics and vulnerabilities, and moves forward into the chamber.
Gundar will shoot an acid dart at it.
Khalid enters the room and prepares an attack, saying, "I see it too. That thing on the Wall is a Cave Fisher. It wants one of us for dinner."