You see a wide array of beakers and bottles bearing cryptic labels or imagery involving such things as snails, shellfish, snakes, rabbits, dolphins, melons, cucumbers, walnuts, roses, orchids, arrows, lances, and scabbards, a barrel marked "Backke-Zcratchrs" that hardly look like they could reach anywhere on your back that your own arms couldn't, and an entire row of glass bottles all molded into the likeness of a male humanoid with an eerie rictus.
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"You're not being fully honest with us, are you? There are a few topics we really need to discuss."
Rosla lowers her voice.
"One: You offered 'specialized medical care', and you should know that I know what that means: You're a member of the Poisoner’s Guild, a contractor who's brokering assassinations.
Two: The initial poison was dark reaver powder, aconite root and several other adulterants. Aconite root in particular is known for its association with Daggermark’s Poisoner’s Guild. We know that this intricate customized recipe is not available on the market. If it's not yours, who made it? As a guild member you have to know - or at least know where to get that information.
Three: What's the matter with your top shelf? Something about it is clearly bothering you.
Four: Here, take a look at the list. Recognize any name besides yours? We already took care of the assassin."
Rosla pats her blades.
"However, we really want the people behind them, the ghost knives; they are truly responsible. Is there any way you can be of assistence? In my opinion it's in your best interest to help us."
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"Would you like to see yours?"Pemak's grin turns, shall one say, a different sort of solicitous as she slowly turns to look at Walks with Giants.
"Was that an invitation? I think you might have the wrong Guild, buut if you look on those purple shelves way over there...."
With a heavy sigh, he rubs is head. "Look, I'm not trying pass some secret message or threaten you or something. It just means that the same folks that assassinated our guy plans on assassinating you and this book proves it. Just point us at the creep and we will try to take care of BOTH of our problems. Or we could just wander around the streets asking folks where these ghost knives are, right after walking into your shop. What else can we do?"
Pemak's solicitous grin softens into something more ambivalent as Rosla lays out her cards, and briefly flirts with mild annoyance at Walks's brusqueness, but when Cara speaks her piece...
As Rosla said..we just need a little help...and our discretion is assured..no one will say anything...
...she nearly bursts out laughing, compromising with a wide-mouthed, strained-wheezing laugh.
"You and your pointy friend are a bit late for that!" She finally manages. That out of the way, she looks back at Rosla shrewdly.
"Still, I guess Pointy-heads are good for something, aren't they? Those eyes, too, you'd think you were all blind, but nooooo," She says with a slight shudder, along with a nod of approval.
She snatches the list when offered and looks it over, her professional glaze starting to reassert itself. Upon seeing the first name on the list, her eyes widen and she leans her head and torso back, seemingly as much for show as from any heartfelt reaction.
"'Oathbreaker Istivil Bosk', is it??? That's about as foul a curse as you can hurl around these parts, short of being some sort of Witch-King, and even then. I am surprised; people around here liked the man, he always kept to his own business as one should. A formal contract against him? Nah...so these 'Ghostknives' you're talking about, that'd say something about them."[b]
She looks back up at you. [b]"Mind telling me how he died?"
Looking further down the list, Pemak's expression shifts a bit (never more than a bit, you notice; is it that damned Orcish jaw-structure? A few too many toxic fumes or ill-advised experimental cosmetics? Who the hell knows???) from performative surprise to something a bit more authentic.
"Sergeant Clovesh, why I never...you're not telling me he's seen a specialist...?" Upon your affirmation of the fact, her face FINALLY collapses into a full and proper frown.
"The Clan Clovesh have nothing if not left their stamp on our militia; why, Jallor Clovesh is the top commander of the Daggermark Infantry...and if *his cousin* Brandur's received treatment unbefitting an officer, why, the shockwaves from that might put a whole regiment of Dwarven sappers to shame! No way that was sanctioned; I HAVE heard some rumors about some cabal of defectors skulking where the sun don't shine, so now you've given them a name...'Ghostknives'? Well, if you want to investigate the sewers, I'd suggest you ask one of your own (or so I've heard); a funny litl..." Pemak stops abruptly, nostrils and ears perked, and she leans to look past you, out her door and through her crowded window, and much of her garish grin returns. "Pardon me, I see you already have. Too good to come in and visit ol' Pemak, eh? Or maybe he just prefers the dark and damp. Pfaugh!"
She glances over the mention of Ramyla without much comment. "Never been to her place, but I'd heard good things; too bad."
She looks back up at you, particularly Rosla.
"You say you've already treated your specialist?" She rubs her hands. "Please do tell...!"
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Rosla ignores Pemak's little jabs and insults - for now...
"'Oathbreaker Istivil Bosk', is it??? That's about as foul a curse as you can hurl around these parts, short of being some sort of Witch-King, and even then. I am surprised; people around here liked the man, he always kept to his own business as one should. A formal contract against him? Nah...so these 'Ghostknives' you're talking about, that'd say something about them." She looks back up at you. "Mind telling me how he died?"
"Well, he was poisoned with the substance we already mentioned: a mix of dark reaver powder, aconite root and several other adulterants. When we administered the potion he had for poison emergencies, well... what happened then wasn't pretty. A thick, white, foamy substance came bursting out of his mouth, nostrils, and even tear ducts before hardening, saturating and jamming tight his entire respiratory system. There was nothing we could do. I assume the potion triggered another part of the substance: your Arcane Amplex. Am I right?"
"Sergeant Clovesh, why I never...you're not telling me he's seen a specialist...?"
"Unfortunately, yes - he died the same way as Istivil Bosk. We found his body, still warm."
Upon your affirmation of the fact, her face FINALLY collapses into a full and proper frown.
"The Clan Clovesh have nothing if not left their stamp on our militia; why, Jallor Clovesh is the top commander of the Daggermark Infantry...and if *his cousin* Brandur's received treatment unbefitting an officer, why, the shockwaves from that might put a whole regiment of Dwarven sappers to shame! No way that was sanctioned; I HAVE heard some rumors about some cabal of defectors skulking where the sun don't shine, so now you've given them a name...'Ghostknives'? Well, if you want to investigate the sewers, I'd suggest you ask one of your own (or so I've heard); a funny litl..." Pemak stops abruptly, nostrils and ears perked, and she leans to look past you, out her door and through her crowded window, and much of her garish grin returns. "Pardon me, I see you already have. Too good to come in and visit ol' Pemak, eh? Or maybe he just prefers the dark and damp. Pfaugh!"
"Yeah, we managed to protect him until now. To make sure he stays safe, we need to end the threat, though."
She glances over the mention of Ramyla without much comment. "Never been to her place, but I'd heard good things; too bad."
She looks back up at you, particularly Rosla.
"You say you've already treated your specialist?" She rubs her hands. "Please do tell...!"
Rosla absently draws one of her Elven Leafblades, looks at it and starts to polish it while answering: "Well, I introduced them to a certain Pointy-head with pointy Pointy-head things - me. And after a near death experience they started to be very talkative." She looks up from her blade again and straight into Pemak's eyes, not blinking. "Does that answer you question?"
[dice=Craft: Alchemy untrained]1d20+2
"Well, he was poisoned with the substance we already mentioned: a mix of dark reaver powder, aconite root and several other adulterants. When we administered the potion he had for poison emergencies, well... what happened then wasn't pretty. A thick, white, foamy substance came bursting out of his mouth, nostrils, and even tear ducts before hardening, saturating and jamming tight his entire respiratory system. There was nothing we could do. I assume the potion triggered another part of the substance: your Arcane Amplex. Am I right?"
Pemak looks as if she is about to issue a quibble as Rosla lists the ingredients she is familiar with, but freezes as she continues, and gives a grim nod when she concludes, and looks ruefully at her shelves.
"Sounds like my little girl, alright...."
"Unfortunately, yes - he died the same way as Istivil Bosk. We found his body, still warm."
Pemak is mute in response to this, but her sagging posture indicates anything but satisfaction with the news.
"Yeah, we managed to protect him until now. To make sure he stays safe, we need to end the threat, though."
She nods, and a fraction of her grin returns.
"Well, I've heard a lot of about the Pathfinder Society in my time, but I see you take care of your own."
Rosla absently draws one of her Elven Leafblades, looks at it and starts to polish it while answering..."Does that answer you question?"
Pemak seems more entertained than properly cowed by Rosla's hokey intimidation attempt, but winces at the implications of the term "near death experience", and a bit more at her final retort.
"Well, not really...but..." Then she starts looking around at nothing and snapping at the air, and you can almost imagine the snaps being the sound of the gearworks clicking in her head as she pieces something together. "...ILCHOK!" She finally declares, somehow managing to synthesize a bellow and a hiss into a single noise. "Who else?" She chuckles and shakes her head. "Enrolled in the Guild a year ago, LOTS of promise, of course...but by all accounts a lazy bastard who couldn't be bothered to cover his tracks or clean up his own messes like proper Assassin; why bother when he could just transform his way out of trouble? Well the Guild gave him a reason, but what they don't give is second chances. Kicked him out even quicker than they let him in."
She looks back up at Rosla, pointing a finger in a 'you know what?' kind of way. "Last I'd heard, he'd shacked up with a cabal of 'defectors' from the Guild, but up until now I had no idea what they were up to!" She leans over her counter, arms heavily against its surface like two green columns supporting a Taldan victory-arch, and looks at you with a freshly-intensified expression.
"You? You're specialist material, or at least you could be with a bit of work. Tell ya' what: I can point you to where these 'Ghostknives' have been popping up. If your buddy out there's maps are any good - and considering the trouble they got him and the others in, they must be - it shouldn't be too hard to narrow down their hideout. Take 'em out. Especially if they're treating guys like Brandur, that's a bridge too far...far enough, in fact, that if you can take good care of them, my affiliates and I could see our way to special amenities for your affiliates' future stays here in Daggermark."
She opens a drawer and pulls out a knife of her own; you can't tell what's on the blade, but it looks unpleasant and Pemak is handling it very gingerly. "Our Guild's closed to newcomers, ol' Guildmaster 'Rigor-Mortis Rick' sees to that, but on the other hand, he's nearly as generous with his brandy to visitors as he is to himself. Nearly. If present company were to drop by for a toast, well, he might fall asleep with his rollbook open...." She winks.
"Oh. Need anything before you head out? If I don't have it, I can point you to someone who might...."
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"Where would we find Guildmaster 'Rigor-Mortis Rick'? And should we meet him before of after we go after the Ghostknives?"
Rosla lowers her voice a bit.
"I'd assume the latter, but I think we are beyond assumptions at this point."
"Where would I go to buy high quality padded armor parts used to protect knees and elbows while tumbling?"
"Where would we find Guildmaster 'Rigor-Mortis Rick'? And should we meet him before of after we go after the Ghostknives?"
It's kind of weird to watch, but Pemak somehow manages to fold her arms over her chest (or at least give the impression of doing so) without changing her counter-gripping posture.
"Job first, rewards if you come back successful."
"Where would I go to buy high quality padded armor parts used to protect knees and elbows while tumbling?"
"Well, there's the asylum out by the city-limits we're all mighty proud of, they've probably got all kinds of spare padding..." To make a long story short, Pemak skillfully directs you to the best place to buy whatever you may need.
"Of course. To the asylum, then...!"
The rest of you might notice the sudden tightening of Pemak's lips as she stares toward her front door with a disciplined expression.
Proceed to Slide 5 for the final showdown...!
Between Pemak's reconnaissance and Timinic's cartography, finding where to descend proves a simple matter, and after a short descent down a cramped passageway, you find yourselves amid the aged masonry walls, slippery flagstones, and otherworldly fumes of Daggermark's sewer-system.
The sound of rushing water echoes throughout this dank cistern as sleet-filled runoff pours in from northern, eastern, and southern channels before emptying through an outlet in the northeast corner. Stone walkways line the walls, with a large platform jutting out into the center of the room. Seven coffin-sized crates float on the water, tethered to the platform’s railings by short chains.
Walks with Giants has the right hunch (even if he's regrettably unfamiliar with these things) - scarcely sooner does his spear light up than long, deep-violet tendrils start to emerge from the fissures in their caps, and they slowly stagger out of the cistern and toward you!
Rosla, Timinic, Tempestas, Cara, Walks with Giants
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...Fun Guy!
...Purple Patch!
...Im-Morel!
The party certainly recognizes giant ambulatory mushrooms when they see them (whether they want to believe it is another matter) - regrettably, that appears to be the extent of what you know.
"I never made it this far," Timinic admits with a certain quaver in his voice. However, he gathers his courage and approaches the nearest fungus, which he zaps with a sickly green ray from his fingers!
Despite his trembling hands, these things make for an easy target, and it flinches a bit at the beam's touch.
Rosla, Timinic, Tempestas, Cara, Walks with Giants
___________________
...Fun Guy [Fuschia]! (-3)
...Purple Patch [Purple]!
...Im-Morel [Dark Purple]!
As the fungi slowly trudge through the bog toward you...you suddenly hear a muffled voice from out of the darkness at the further side of the chamber:
"Who's there?! Go away! NOW!!!"
Timinic gives a start at the outcry, but says nothing beyond a personal warding incantation.
Rosla, Timinic (shield), Tempestas, Cara, Walks with Giants
___________________
...Fun Guy [Fuschia]! (-5)
...Purple Patch [Purple]!
...Im-Morel [Dark Purple]!
Rosla drops her leafblade, draws her light crossbow and loads it.
Rosla attempts a shot.
Walks with Giants displays admirable form hucking a flagon of lemonade he picked up at the Dripping Wall.
Sarenrae's-Withering-Gaze-Made-Flesh-Upon-The-World trudges forward in a murder-trance and...carves a hunk of mushroom-cap, but nothing all that major, really. It's a nice, visible nick.
Tempestas, meanwhile, delivers a mighty swing...but to no avail as his blade cleaves water rather than mushflesh.
*TRUDGE**TRUDGE**TRUDGE* go the fungi as they continue to silently close in on the party, slowly slogging through the chill waters; they repay Cara and Tempestas's attacks by...heading right past them???
Meanwhile, Timinic transforms into...what might be a Sea-Elf, and takes to the water!
Rosla (blessed, still has last round's attack to roll), Timinic (alter self, shield, blessed), Tempestas (blessed), Cara (blessed), Walks with Giants (blessed)
___________________
...Fun Guy [Fuschia]! (-11)
...Purple Patch [Purple]!
...Im-Morel [Dark Purple]!