Looking around, Anotnella finds no other enemies, but does find four suits of leather armor, four short swords, four repeating light crossbows, and 40 poisoned bolts (Medium spider venom), on the derro corpses.
Continuing onward, the party moves north into the keep. Broken furniture litters the room: parts of a stool, a modest writing table battered in twain, and several smashed chairs sprawl across the keep’s wooden floor. A set of stairs in the northeast and northwest corners each lead upstairs and downstairs.
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Well... Orryn muses a moment. I confess I didn't do the Pathfindering classwork. They handed me a commission on the way to the Meraz Desert after I drew Cubby for an art scholarship my tour at Lastwall was done.
However, it seems to me that we can see how far up something can go, but not how far down. So it makes sense to me to take care of what you know first, before delving into the unknown.
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Heccan smirks as Antonella quips. Very funny Schiavo, but the sight of my own blood, whatever the color, causes me no mirth. But... Heccan attempts hides the wand sensing Antonella's disdain, clumsily returning it to the folds of his robes thank you as well, and to all of you. Your bravery in occupying the monster as well as felling the beast certainly aided in my survival. I hope I will return the favor.
Heccan stands and looks over the group's options. He runs a hand through his wavy dark hair and lets out an exasperated sigh. Heccan then carefully listens to the party's suggestions. Wait! There was a class on this sort of thing? I really need to read that promotional literature more closely. Heccan furrows his brow and nods at Orryn's suggestion. A fine idea, Honorable Bird Knight. After getting crushed by animated dirt, a little higher air seems appropriate. Heccan dusts himself off and gets ready to move out.
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"Yes, up seems the wise choice, but eventually down if we are to find these filthy Derro and root them out of their burrows. I must have been away from class and in the pub for the the up vs down lecture. Was there also one for left vs right?...I can never seem to get that correct, but that's why I just follow Ceobryrn. He always seems to know which way is what."
Ag'mira will pickup one of the repeating crossbows and try to figure out how to use it without shooting anyone in the back. She fiddles with the mechanism , releases a bolt which comes dangerously close to Heccan's leg.
"That's it...opps, sorry."
"Looks like I need some of these as well."
She grabs as many of the 5 bolt cartridges as she can manage.
Deciding up is better than down, the party heads up one of the sets of stairs. Ceobryrn keeps an eye out for danger, but misses the trap on the stairs until an arrow fires out from under a tread!
Luckily, the ranger is quick footed enough to dodge the arrow as it sails harmless past, acid dripping from its tip.
Continuing up the stairs, the party enters the upper level of the keep. The stairs continue up to another level, but in this area you see four large pens in the corners, constructed like containment or jail cells. Searching this room, in one cell you find a diary, and its last passage details a horrific abduction. Several pages afte rthe last entry appear to be torn out.
Finding nothing else of interest, the party ascends to the upppermost floor. The second level of the Fair, like the room below, is stripped of nearly everything metal, leaving what was once a tangle of dank, solitary confinement cages transformed into a tumbled mess of furniture and prisoner odds and ends. A collection of broken furniture in the southeast corner suggests a struggle, and Ceobryrn finds a splattering of blood on the floor in front of a closed door in the southeast corner of the room.
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Heccan breathes much easier as Antonella's healing energy cures him of the last effects from the encounter with the dirt monster. He rubs his chin and moves his jaw from side to side as if to move it back into its proper place. He turns from side to side and looks to Ceobryn, showing the ranger each side of his face. Ceobryn. Please do me the courtesy of letting me know if you see any scarring. I don't feel any, and I am certain Shiavo's trick took care of it but you never can be too carefu... In the midst of Heccan's ramblings an arrow shoots past his shin and embeds in the ground less than a foot from his leg. As it passes, the arrow takes the smallest nick out of Heccan's rather fancy robe. Heccan stops in mid sentence, something the party suspects rarely ever happens, and his eyes go wide. He quirks his brow and looks over his shoulder to the embedded arrow, then traces its likely trajectory back to Ag'mira. He lets out a long held breath and smiles. Heccan looks to Ag'mira Um, for future reference, there are easier ways to get my attention. A simple 'hey chum' would be fine, really. Heccan winks to the witch and offers her a sly grin, letting her know he has taken no real offense. Though I admit you are the first female acquaintance I have ever had that tried to shoot me. Usually its the father who takes that liberty. Heccan laughs, although a bit nervously, and falls into line for the exploration of the upper reaches.
Walking behind Ceobryn, he again tenses when the arrow trap is sprung. He appears obviously relieved when he is assured no one in th eparty is damaged, then turns back looking over the party What happened there, did someone give Ag'mira another crossbow?
Heccan follows the party as they explore the upper floors. Upon seeing the blood stained floor, he turns to Ceobryn. It seems violence is common in this place. What do you make of all this?
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Ceobryrn points out the trap as the arrow go flying by him, and comments to Heccan "But, The ladies love to be shown Scars!"
when he comes to the blood splatter and door, the ranger looks around carefully trying to read the signs and or tracks.
motioning to the others that there might be something behind the door, Ceobryrn lets them get ready before opening it.
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Heccan laughs at Ceobryn’s comment. Ha! I had not considered that Ceobryn. I should try that, now that I am engaged in a much more rough and tumble occupation. Not real scars of course, but I know a few gnomes in Absalom that should accomodate me with a passable illusion or two… Heccan recoils slightly, as if slapped, upon hearing Antonell’s rebuke. He tilts his head to one side and offers her an apologetic, yet charming, smile. Antonella. Surely my callous slip of the tongue is no cause for a full feldge defense of your stoic patron. Please, accept my apology for I meant no offense. Quite the contrary, I am very thankful for his gifts as they have returned me to my normal charming self. His smile to her widens, hoping she will accept his apology. Besides, I am hardly what one would call pious. I find the more religion I am exposed to, the less fun I am at parties. Although, Heccan gives Antonella a more measured stare perhaps a should look into it a bit more. Your patron seems more than able at healing scars...but better I suspect at concealing them.
Heccan nods once and prepares to venture forth.
Ceobryrn waits for the others to ready themselves, then throws open the door! Inside, he sees a man disheveled and dirty, huddled in a crouch in the back of what turns out to be a storage room. The man gibbers to himself, and Ceobryrn recognizes the man as the crazy painter the party dealt with months back!
The painter seems to ignore Ceobryrn, and the ranger notices that the wall behind the painter has a mural painted on it. The mural depicts two large snakes carrying a bell into Cassomir’s sewers and portrays in great detail what is clearly the party chasing after the snakes.
When Antonella speaks to the man, he looks up, and points to the door in the southeast corner of the room and says, “Down, down, deeper, and down, follow my map to the underground.”
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Heccan smiles warmly to Antonella and nods his head once to her. Indeed Shiavo, though it seems the healing path is preferable.
Heccan slowly turns his gaze to the raving man and his painting. He walks to the crazy man's location. Heccan observes Ceobryn's interaction with the man then looks to the painting. He rubs a hand though his wavy black hair. Once again we find ourselves drawn into this lunatic's vision. I believe Ceobryn has the right of it, though I admit I am not necessarily overjoyed to walk the path of this man's mind again. He looks to his fellow Pathfinder's What say you all, shall we take a trip towards certain pain and mayhem?
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Ag'maira smiles at the man "Good to see you are moving on to murals from canvas. Nice medium. Anything else you can tell us about these wicked people, friend?"
She waits for a response then sees everyone run out of the room...
"Be right back - Looks like the morning run just started."
She hurries out of the room and follows behind Heccan
The painter giggles crazily to himself and goes back to tending his mural. Looking around, the party finds a trapdoor, when opened, leads down.
Taking the trapdoor, the party descends blow street level and into the sewers. The sewers are dark, save for the lights the party provides. Refuse rushes by in a stream of garbage carried swiftly through the sewer proper. A five-foot-wide dry ledge sits a foot above the refuse and provides a walkway on both the east and west sides of the sewer. On the west wall, a massive iron door blocks passage beyond. An image carved into the door is of a dispassionate figure holding a gibbous moon.
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Heccan's lip curls noticeably as he spies the river of garbage. He looks to the rocks, then the filth flow, then back to the rocks. He lets out an exasperated sigh. Definitely. Not. In. The. Literature! Sure, I expected some exposure to the elements when I signed on to this Society of ours, but really...swimming in garbage. Heccan continues to scan the rocks trying to find the safest way across when he hears Anotnella's suggestion. Shiavo! You truly do divine work. He looks over to Ceobryn Yes, please Ceobryn. I will sweeten the deal by buying all of your drinks for the rest of the week. What do you say chum?
Ag'Mira roots around in her back pack and produces a rope and Putin. b]"Maybe a
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Ceobryrn quickly explains as the group moves down, "We meet the mad painter when previously investigating some kidnappings involving derro and a family that I hope we cut off all it's branches. Anyway what he paints sort of foretells what happens."
In the sewers, then ranger looks around for signs of resent moment, "Sure I can carry everyone across one at time using the potion. Good Idea!" The ranger proceeds to drink the potion and moves everyone across.
Getting across the sludgy, disease-ridden sewer channel, the party comes to the door.
Ceobryrn notes that it is locked, but does not appear to be trapped.
Ag'Mira finally catches up and hitches a ride on the last flying mount over the river. She prepares for whatever lies behind the door
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Heccan does his best to look dignified as he is carried over the garbage flow. Once set upon the ground, he dusts himself off, straightens his robe, ad runs a hand through his hair. He eyes the door warily. Thank you Ceobryn. My health and my garments thank you for saving them both from that sludge. Tell me my good man, does that perceptive knack of yours notice anything out of sorts with this door?
Finding no traps, Wembly melts the hinges off the door and Ceobryrn lifts it out of the way, revealing a long ovoid chamber.
A purple radiance washes over this cold chamber from a variety of lichens and fungi that grow on the walls and ceiling creating an otherworldly sheen. Straw-filled cages line the north and south walls. In the room’s center, a strange pedestal, carved in the likeness of dozens of grasping tentacles, sits fixed into the stone floor.
In front of the pedestal stands a humanoid creature with long, sharp teeth, and its pallid flesh is stretched tightly over its starved frame! IT immediately begins moving toward the ranger!