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"I see we are dealing with derro once more. Good thing we came prepared this time. Alrathien knows just the spell to deal with this lot. Here, deal with another lecture on arcane theory and the fall of Persephocles while Alrathien looks it up." Alrathien cast a dazing spell on the derro fighting Grethe, then pulls his spellbook from a pouch and begins flipping through it.
"Ah yes. Once more Alrathien's keen powers of observation, combined with his in depth understanding of the criminal mind, have paved the way for continuance. See here? There is a switch. Such switches are historically used for activating hidden doors and traps of such ghastly description that to hear of them would make you retch. Much like that ghast, in fact. That truly in a most dreadful smell. Friend Grethe, I am afraid your particular piquant odor loses out to that one today. Congratulations."
"Has anyone else noticed that every time we go after these derro, we run into undead monstrosities? It simply cannot be a coincidence. Why, I am reminded of the time when...oh, friend Jeffrey. Why are you still laying about? We haven't yet found the prisoners we were looking for, and Alrathien's throat is so parched. Perhaps some chilled wine is laid aside on a table nearby?" Alrathien began looking about the room from the doorway.
"Friend Grethe, now you are acting just like Jeffrey. Please clear the doorway so that the others can assist. You need to avoid the attacks. Maybe make a bending motion as you go through the doowrway. like this." Alrathien contorted himself sideways, got his left arm caught in a fold of his robe, and managed to catch his balance somehow before motioning to the others. "Very well, Alrathien will assist in destabilizing the very foundation upon which the enemy stands, much like he undercuts the very weak arguements his fellows offer in their attempts to debate logic and Jerngian theory." Alrathien made some motions, smaller this time, and muttered the spell to cover the floor beneath the enemy creature with grease.
"No, no, friend Grethe! Alrathien sees he should have gone first, after all. The intent, as Alrathien believes should be obvious, is to step across the stones like this, keeping your feet - and the rest of you - out of the muck. Running straight across is a recipe for disaster, one that you have now baked. Which reminds me of another recipe, one for desliming fengari slime toads. Fascinating things, those toads. Did you know that their slime is both a laxitive and an aphrodisiac? Wonderful contrast in effects, wouldn't you say?"
"Another sewer? Alrathien deplores the state of his clothes whenever he and his friends muck about in the sewers. Still, needs must. Friend Grethe, pelase look to the ground for the trail of paper that the prisoner's diary said to expect. Paper! You know, the material that Alrathien's books are made of? No, it is not for wiping your nether regions after you...look, perhaps friend Jeffrey can help you." Alrathien followed the others into the sewer, still muttering about the thickheadedness of barbarians and their ilk.
"Or perhaps, the Mad Painter is, you know, quite mad. Someone is supposed to be leaving a trail of paper scraps for us to find. Perhaps Friend Jeffery wouldn't mind looking about for a way downwards from here, and for this trail of breadcrumbs that are actually not bread at all." Alrathien began to follow his own advice, then snatched the paper back from Jeffery and looked at it some more...just in case.
Alrathien decided to count to two, but lost patience with Jeffrey's attempts halfway there. "My good fellow, Alrathien sees that you are once again gracing this dreary place with your prodigious skills. In fact, this mural looks on par with those lovely items Alrathien purchased to decorate the halls of his lodgings recently. Now, you speak of a map, but alas, Alrathien's friends cannot see the grand design in your head. Perhaps you have painted this map on a canvas for us already? If not, perhaps Alrathien could be persuaded to become a patron, and commission you to do so."
Alrathien was indeed set to start talking, especially as his paintings had not yet arrived at the Pathfinder Lodge, but as Jeffrey rarely spoke up, the mage decided it would be good for the man to get some practice using more than three or four words together. Maybe later they could practice words with more than one syllable. Did the fighter even know what a syllable was...?
As Jeffrey pulls the arrow from his chest and tosses it aside, Alrathien swoops down to pick it up. "Ah, ye, see the pitting? Acid for certain, though what kind would be difficult to tell without an alchemical lab. Still, it is interesting that a prison would be so outfitted, don't you think, friend Jeffrey? I mean, if you want to torture prisoners, you don't need a trap to do that. And if it's not for the prisoners, then who? Interesting, indeed." Upon reading the diary left in the cell, Alrathien made the obvious suggestion, and once more followed Jeffrey and the others down the stairs. "Ah! Friend Grethe found blood - and not the cool wine Alrathien was hoping for. Alrathien suggests that he and his friends prepare themselves for a sight most gruesome. Too gruesome, perhaps, to bear looking upon. Friend Jeffery should steel himself before opening the door, yes, that is what Alrathien recommends."
"It looks as if there was quite a stir here during the raid. Alrathien doubts there is any more to see here. Perhaps we should see where the stairs go? Alrathien believes, and his thoughts will likely be substantiated, that the derros would have come from an entrance below ground, as they have in our previous encounters. Shall we see if the stairs lead downwards towards our goal? Friend Jeffery, perhaps you should take the lead?" Alrathien motions towards the nearest set of stairs.
Alrathien, still perusing his notes on the bell, looked up at the combat to see the creature fall. Shrugging, he went back to his rubbings. "Perhaps Alrathien's friends can continue keeping the distractions to the minimum while he ponders the arcane symbology here. Extracting the nuances of the warp and weft of arcane powers isn't like swinging a sword about, after all. One wrong calculation and we could call a star into being right in this very room, and that would end all our problems quite quickly." He gestured for the next set of doors and continued, "Lead on."
"Ah, Alrathien sees that there is indeed magic here. And see, the inscription reads Through obedience we find peace. It seems that this may indeed be the bell we were sent to look for." Alrathien dropped his pack and pulled out a stick of charcoal and some thin paper. Then, he started forward to make rubbings of the bell.
Alrathien wasn't interested in the shattered furniture or coin boxes. What caught his eye was the rusted bars. There were a few spells that could create such an effect, and a few...well, natural wasn't the word, but there were creatures like rust monsters that could do such a thing. He thought about what he had seen for a few moments, trying to organize his thoughts.
"Alrathien thinks that you should reconsider. One more chance you have before all that you are is a spreading red pool upon the ground. All your dreams, all your victories, all your hopes spilled in a sticky red liquid that only the dogs will care to deal with. Memory fade, those that once knew you will forget, even your family - if you still have any - will cease wondering what happened to you. No cabal is worth that, surely."
Alrathien moved forward, out of the shadow of an overhanging roof, coming down the alley to see the ones that Grethe was confronting. "Ah, it seems that friend Grethe has rushed forward and in his haste to improve our position, has engaged more of the Nature's Cataclysm cultists. Perhaps friend Jeffery can assist? Alrathien will remain here and point out the obvious flaws in their defense. For instance, the dark-haired one looks as if he doesn't realize that he is effectively - or not - trying to block a greatsword with what amounts to a thick stick. Seriously, man, do you not know the relative hardness coefficients of folded steel and ... is that birch?"
Alrathien continued to explain to Jeffrey about arithmancy, and how complex calculations actually can be affected not only by the magic of statistics, but also in the unmeasurable interactions of sub-arcanum particles. "As you can see from the theory, it is actually impossible to know, without a shadow of a doubt, the exact state of these particles without magical measurement, and the very act of measurement affects the outcome. It's why most weather mages go mad and just start throwing tornadoes and hurricanes around. Fascinating, really."
"Well, there are approximately 2.3 million permutations, at least four thousand of which would be considered "better", but really that just gets into the pedantic fairy dust wrangling of the definitions of optimal, and there are likely a dozen ways to calculate the best path using arithmancy, but truly Alrathien's friends have been fairly successfully using brute force approaches, so who is he to go against both tradition and empirical results?"
Alrathien was already keenly listening as the Venture Captain spoke, but his attention grew sharply focused as he found out the bell was an object of the Enchantment school, his specialty. "Oh ho! Lucky it is for the Venture Captain that Alrathien is here to lead this particular mission. Enchantment magics take a special sort of mind to work with, and none is more special than Alrathien. These fine friends of Alrathien's will also serve their part well, most assuredly."
"Ah, Venture Captain. It seems that you were right to concur with Alrathien's supposition that further danger from the derros was forthcoming. How prescient of you! As for now, how will Alrathien and his compatriots know that the bell is the one you seek? Is there perhaps a name inscribed on it? Or a catalog number? It would be most convenient if such was the case." "Also, other than using the prison assault as a premise to inspect the bell, is there any particular reason you want Alrathien to pursue the derros? Alrathien is quite capable of standing off armies of weak-willed derro, of course, but his companions, especially Jeffery - please forgive Alrathien for the social faux pas, but really he does get in quite over his head sometimes - may not find it as straigthforward a matter."
Alrathien moved forward as well, chanting a spell and pully a slick ball of grease from a pouch. "Allow me to introduce to you the amazing powers of friction, and what the lack of it can do to a person's balance and overall efficacy. It is truly amazing that what we take for granted as normal behavior between static and kinetic masses is actually comprised of several factors, including how well the surfaces of those objects can touch each other. For example, leather buskins slide on ice because the leather and the ice form a transient and weak bond. Put crampons onto the buskins, and the metal spikes dig into the ice, forming a much larger and more robust bond. Likewise, boots on a greasy floor tend to slide..."
"Well, that worked out swimmingly. Alrathien thinks his good friends are most skilled at the application of brute force. It is not a philosophy to which he himself is an adherent, to be sure, but it certainly gets the job done in many singular cases." Alrathien studiedly looked around for any arcane signs or symbols, not having a clue as to what to look for in their pursuit onward.
"Friend, do you mind asking your companions to please stop attacking us? Everything is well and good, and there is no need for violence. You can see that we are the aggrieved party here, and your companions are in the wrong, can't you? The best thing would be for you to stop them from continuing their rudeness."
Alrathien took in the situation and stepped forward. "At last, someone with a mind. Gentlemen, please take care that you do no harm yourselves or anyone else. Alrathien is here to explain all that you need to know about the current situation and ow things may have changed in the expected plans for this day."
"Friend Kimiya, perhaps it is not Alrathien's place to say this, but your efforts to avoid permanently damaging your foes - while completely admirable in many respects - is wasted upon these foes. As they are not living - notice the lack of organs? - they would be less than susceptible to your normal methods of attack." So saying, Alrathien walked up to the nearest skeleton and tapped it on the shoulder with his quarterstaff. "Pardon, but would you mind showing my friend here how effective his attacks would be if he, say, took your head off?"
Upon seeing the skeletons, Alrathien groans aloud. "If it's not utter darkness, it's mindless automatons of undeath! Seriously, can not this adventure be any less well suited to one of my prodigious talents? Truly, what's the point of being able to bend the perception of reality and focus a subjects mind only on what you want them to see if they have no mind to begin with? It is not that Alrathien means to complain, but honestly, look at them. you might as well swat them with clubs."
"Alrathien thinks that Dalirio will not be turning anyone into skeletons again, excepting perhaps himself. If Alrathien recalls correctly, and that is almost certainly the case, Dalirio was dispatched days ago by the very ones you see in front of you now. You see? Heroes, one and all, are Alrathien's close companions." "Oh, good job, friend Jeffrey! Your insights have proven most elucidating this day, Alrathien is certain. It seems we have more to do, dear friends. Onward and downwards!" So saying, Alrathien stepped aside and generously indicated for someone else to go first.
Alrathien followed Grethe into the room, muttering about the intelligence of those who would charge blindly into a darkened room filled with other blind people with sharp objects. Anyone nearby culd hear him castigate his own choices as well with a muttered, "Who's the more fool? the fool, or the fool who follows him?" Blindly, the mage followed the wall to the left.
Alrathien picked a pen and a random bottle of ink from his pack and began drawing on the map, connecting the three locations with straight lines to make a triangle, then using the simplest of geometry to connect each vertex of the triangle to the midpoint of the opposite side. The three new lines intersected at a single point. Smiling, he pointed, putting the golden ink away once more and wiping the nib of his pen clean on a scrap of cloth. "See? A straightforward application of Grodnur's theory of geometrycal computations and analysis. The centroid of any triangle can be found at the intersection of the three lines drawn from the triangle's points to the midpoint of the opposing leg. This, dear friends, should be the entrance to the Crypt of Fools...assuming we are correct in our suppositions."
"No, not that one, the new one. Yes, exactly. See here? This is obviously matching this area here, down at the harbor. Numbered 14 and 17 on this map. Now, if we assume that the object of our desire is at the center of these three locations, then that would be about...here." Alrathien reached out a long, thin finger and stabbed the map in the center of the triangle formed by the three parchment locations.
"Given that the other two images depicted Aroden's actions as those that were required to open the hidden compartments, Alrathien would lay good odds that magic - divine magic most likely - is the key to opening this one. Of course, arcane magic might work as well, but Alrathien sees little hope in that." Just in case, the enchanter reaches a hand to touch the statue's foot and casts a light spell upon it.
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