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Findlefarb stands tall to all of his diminutive stature, and says, "Fifteen years it is! Now, Lady Jenaris, if you'll excuse us, our assembled company must agree on who receives the honor of making good on the payment. To that end, I've prepared lots for all of us! Step right up, and the short lot will pay."
I also have a Pocketed Scarf and a Wrist Sheath, should further legerdemain be necessary.
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"MORE GAMES!" Ruby roars as she snatches up one of the lots. "I HAVE A STICK!" You can see it on her face, a question of utmost importance: What can I poke with this stick?
Her eyes wander, her hand quivers, but then still. Looking at Jenaris and recalling the warning she was given earlier, she sighs for a moment before she starts smiling again. "I HAVE A STICK!"
The tip of the stick's far end sails precariously close to an exquisite swan made of fine glass.
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The lots go around, everyone apparently drawing a long lot.
"Well! I guess you're all safe! Congratulations!"
Looking to Lady Jenaris, Findlefarb smiles warmly and adds, "Oh, you're wondering why I'm holding two lots? Well, we've got one more member in our party. We've all met, we've all traveled together."
In his free hand, a bundle of white feathers emerges, resolving into Findlefarb's chicken. "Well, go on, pick a stick!" The chicken takes notice of one and picks at it. The gnome smiles and lets the chicken hold onto it--it is short.
Revealing the length of the last lot, Findlefarb triumphantly responds, "There we are! My chicken will give you fifteen years. Fun fact about chickens, they can survive for fifteen years, although they are usually sold and turned into a lovely meal after 40 days! She's nice and fresh, you'll have all the years you need!"
He presents the bird to Lady Jenaris.
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I'm not sure how you pulled that one off Mister Gnome but ... well played. Well played indeed.
She smiles and takes the chicken and heads into the alchemical lab. After a lot of clucking, she comes back with the bedraggled bird, looking a bit worse for wear but still alive. As she lands the bird back to Findlefarb it gives a feeble squark.
Your chicken will have a bit of a sore throat for a bit, not a lot I could do about that. I'd recommend a touch of lemon juice and plenty of honey in her water for a while but should be back to full health in a few days.
She then hands over the item that Murqual wants. It is a silver hand mirror enclosed in a tied black velvet bag.
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Before this conversation can sink any lower than it has - and before someone starts singing the Hedgehog Song, you swap the mirror for the Monadistic Archive, a large, gilded pauelielwood chest filled with scores of scrolls in individual compartments, with his compliments to Venture-Captain Yuul.
You then report back to Wulessa Yuul. Upon returning to Farseer Tower, you are ushered back to the meeting chamber.
The room has undergone some changes over the past few hours. The furniture has been pushed aside, and the resulting empty carpet space has cushions laid out in a circle. Unlit candles stand in a silent circle around the cushions. The formerly open windows are shut, perhaps to prevent the candles being snuffed by a stray breeze once lit, not that it makes a difference on this still night.
Wulessa Yuul is eager to see you, and she’s positively ecstatic seeing you carrying the archive chest. While she says the following, she opens the chest and sifts reverently through the scrolls, unrolling and examining several, holding a few up to her ears, and seeming to listen to them.
Excellent work. I shall take a full account of your adventures this night shortly, but for now... I need some more of your assistance. As I said before, these scrolls are relics of the Jistkan Imperium from thousands of years ago. What information I’ve found indicates that the Monadistic Archive recorded the thoughts and minds of some of the greatest thinkers of that empire. Not merely recorded in the written word—supposedly they copied the very minds of these men and women. Some binding entity within the scrolls brings these minds together into a collective of wisdom and lore, where each mind is no longer a discreet part, but melded into a greater whole. The ritual I have prepared should allow me to open the archive, but the effort of doing so prevents much exploration on my part. If I include you in the ritual, you can be my eyes and ears. Of course, this is not a process that can be completed in one night. This could take years. In the long run, a full team will be assigned cataloging duties, but tonight I cannot resist at least one brief expedition. I have sought the archive for so long, and I would be honored if you would help me with this foray into the mind of the past.
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Wulessa sits you on the floor, lights the candles, and snuffs the other lights. She joins the circle, unrolls the scroll before her, and has everyone link hands. She begins a sing-song recitation in Jistkan
As Wulessa Yuul finishes her invocation, she bows her head over the unfurled scroll, and the room falls silent. The only thing breaking the quiet is the snapping of the curtains, billowing in a heavy wind. Curiously, the breeze does not stir any other fabrics in the room; even the Monadistic Archive’s scroll lies flat on the floor. The doors remain sealed, and there is no sign the seance achieved its goal.
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Venture Captain Yuul doesn't respond in the way you expect. Instead 'she' stands and throws her head back, revealing 'her' nightmarish features. She cackles madly and attacks, telling you that you have fallen into her trap and that she shall feast upon your innards accompanied by fava beans and a nice chianti.
Initiatives:
Only Huong is caught flatfooted. Everyone else may go.
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Skurge grabs his greatsword, strikes the creature, and it immediately dissipates. Combat over.
You are now free to examine the room. The door seems locked, but closer examination shows that it is merged with the wall and cannot open. Exiting through one window simply causes someone to appear across the room. The most blatant clue to the room’s unreality, though, might be the wind gusting through the previously closed windows.
Anyone examining the scroll on the floor discovers it is devoid of the writing that once covered its surface. It has a strong transmutation aura. You realise it can be used as a boro bead, page of spell knowledge or a pearl of power
Make Will saves everyone.
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Huong manages to disbelieve the illusion you are currently in and, once you all are convinced of this, you find yourselves somewhere else.
The stone walls of Farseer Tower melt away, replaced by warm blonde wooden wall paneling and a plush, lemon yellow carpet. A canopied bed sits between two windows, through which the spires of an grand city are visible. A small army of dolls is pushed over to a corner, its slumping forms indicating some level of neglect. Instead, the preferred playthings in this child’s room seem to be books. A row of titles line a shelf on one wall, and several opened ones lie on the bed. Opposite the bed are a closed door and an elaborate vanity table. A mirror on the vanity reflects some motion not apparent in the room itself.
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"Well, I, for one, am utterly fascinated with why we'd be apparently attacked by a hag. And, more saliently, why it replaced Yuul, and she's not here anymore? Could she be... hidden?"
In an attempt to test out as much space in this apparent new room everyone stands in, Findlefarb pulls out his club set and starts juggling.
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We're in a mental landscape, as I had thought, yet it seems to be patterned off of my mind. I can feel the days of my life being transcribed. Pulled from my body and stored here. I don’t know if there will be anything left of me when it is done. I can’t even move around. I’m simply trapped inside my own memories. You might be able to get me out. I can feel an entity overseeing the transcription. This... archivist, for
lack of a proper name, should logically have a presence inside this mindscape, at least during this process. You may be able to find the archivist and challenge or persuade it to stop. Hopefully that would release us all.