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"So you have dealt with the Moranni Group before? Nearby? Anywhere you could search for clues to his whereabouts?"
Otholear rushes from the doorway... Doyle and derro Migthwet in tow. "Protocol? The voice said 'Mortal failure.. you have twenty seconds to cancel protocol." A moment later, the construct emits the monotone voice again. Otholear translates as it speaks. "Device location acquired."
Anumil: The town is completely empty... windows with shutters are shuttered... including the Belching Badger - which was never shuttered.. open all day and night.
It would appear the village was abandoned "voluntarily"... as opposed to an invasion event. No visible threats.
Otholear pulls a jewel-topped rod from the derro's console, and hands it to you. "Don't lose it, sell it, trade it... just show it to those you intend to parley with... they may be less guarded knowing you know of this dream world. Simply put, each is bound to an engineered aboleth spawn which powers these machines...." He then gestures toward the larger adjoining chamber and the rising spiral stairs within. "Let's get topside. With luck, someone in town will have left a map behind... I'll mark the locations to best of my knowledge." He grabs the derro, and nods toward Doyle to suggest someone take care of him. The stairs lead up to the interior of the "hags' house" in Doyle's Run... though it is completely gutted. Otholear waits for everyone to come up at the top of the stairs. "Village is empty... no sign of a fight. Looks like everyone just left... erm hands full... could someone get the door." He nods to indicate the front door to exit the gutted hag house.
"Before you balk at the distance to these locations... The Retreat has initiated a defense condition time ratio... an hour of their time will pass for every three weeks of Golarion time... roughly. Though aiding our cause would be beneficial to all... the most likely to amenable are Aelo Doestes in the border mountains of Druma, and Shmad Blackrock - who has a set-up in Cassomir of Taldor." "Those I'd suspect to be less friendly are somewhere in Nisroch... we believe in or around Graveside, and northwest Andoran... somewhere in the Aspodell Mountains." He looks to Sunny.. responding to her question. "If and when the invaders are dealt with, normalcy can be restored... a reverse in the time ratio will give us the time we need to continue working toward re-integrating the Retreat with Golarion."
"If you wish to help... I see two ways you could do some good." "Convince meddlers to lend aid, or at the very least not stand in our way. I know of four... though the locations are vague on the most powerful pair. I have no doubt they all have both resources and desire to protect their privacy." "Or... you could return with me... Fort Hook is the center of my group's operation. If you could help broker peace between my allies and yours - the Black Arrow is leading the siege.. blaming us for the recent rash of "procurements" carried out by derro and duergar. We will need to stand together against the Third Fold of Leng - "
"The retreat has existed for many millennia. Created by an enclave of Thassilonians and a delegation of Eoxians - each had both complementary knowledges, and impending global catastrophe. The Thassilonians intended to return after earthfall. The Eoxians were buying time .. in attempt to determine why their young were being born soulless." "The retreat was then co-opted by an abomination - the Matron.. the spawn of ancient outcast gods of creation and dreams. It took decades to rid the retreat of her. A man known now only as Henry... made contact - coincidentally with an ancestor of Mister Doyle. Henry guided Doyle's ancestor both on the mutation of derro brain mold, and the construction of the dream stations such as this - the practical application of which the newly enlightened derro would be able to understand. It took an army of recruited dreamers to drive her out. I was among them.. a young man then. After her defeat we - many of my fellow recruits - decided the project need to come to an end." "We'd freed the minds of the citizens, but... learning their world was "false".. and that it would take centuries of their time for us to learn how to return to Golarion... drove them into despondence and in some indelible madness. So.. the dream-shaping continued. Her three daughters were restored to power in their respective lands, and the legacy remained. We've since found this has united the psyches of the masses in a way which bolsters the efficiency of the Retreat's.. inner workings." Mayor Doyle stretches and yawns. Otholear gives Mayor Doyle a mildly disdainful look... "In recent decades we've been close to reintegration with Golarion... the end of the Retreat without the blood of thousands as a price. However.. influential factions here have found use for it... for their own gain...."
Otholear swipes a silver syringe from Migthwet's dark iron console. He turns it needle up and taps as he gently plunges the air out of the indigo fluid within. "This is what brings the sleep state." He holds it out toward the group for someone to take, and jerks his head toward Doyle. "Just a suggestion.... I'll explain what I can after you decide how he should be dealt with." Doyle harumphs indignantly.
Town Leader Otholear - who'd been making his way toward Corum - looks to where the elf points. He closes the remaining distance with a quickened pace, and stern look. He keeps his voice low, and as villagers pass, he scolds through a false smile to not make a scene himself...
Corum: The Phantoms are the Dreamers.. more precisely, the Phantoms are the phantasmal projections of those whose bodies are elsewhere in a dreaming state (the Dreamers).
Otholear smiles as his eyes follow Sunny... "Lost one to the facemaker it appears. I wonder what she'll choose. A good deal of gold is spent there - for something temporary and only half-real to boot." "Enjoy the show. The Processional will take place directly after. There is an energy in the air... excitement. The signs and rumors of the Matron truly arriving have made my flock quite anxious."
An older fellow at the dunker food stall does a double-take when he sees Arcthyl. He quickly brushes bits from his beard, and excuses himself from a conversation to greet Arcthyl. "Good evening to you, Ancient One. It's been many years since we've been visited by someone of your lineage. An honor... a great honor. Oh!... My name is Otholear... I serve as town leader here." He bows. "And is this your entourage?" he gestures vaguely in the direction of the rest of the group. |
