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The sun slowly rises over the dusty town square. Dozens of hammers sang Torch’s constant ringing song as metals of every kind are forged and worked. With the eponymous violet flame extinguished, blacksmiths toil over clumsy coals to keep their business afloat. Horses and wagons scurry about, some leaving to find better work, some just arriving. Merchants are setting up and selling their metal goods and few rare trinkets of unknown origin. One such device is tied by rope high on a pole in the middle of the square. It appears as a white cone with a blue rim, and a thin wire that comes down to meet a wooden podium resting at the head of the square. At the podium stands a short and solid old dwarf woman with a strange metal device in her hand and serious looking hammer hanging from her waist.
“Morning, folks. It’s a good sun for workin.” Her typical greeting booms with unnatural volume from the device tied to the tall pole. The metal clangs of working men and women slow and voices go quiet as dozens gather to hear her news.
“I won’t sugar coat it Torchers, we still have no flame and we ain’t any closer to finding out why. I’m real sorry to tell y’all, but the last group we sent into the mountain has gone missin'. Councilman Baine is missin' as well.” The crowd begins to murmur, punctuated by a few gasps.
“Now I know we’ve been doin' this gremlin-chase for near two weeks, but I gotta ask again: anyone out there worth their salt and handy with a sword? The council of Torch is willing to pay a fine fee to-”
“All the council has done is talk and we're still here with no work!” A man yells out from the gathering crowd. “I got three days to feed my family and all y’all can do is send a few wanderin' knuckle-draggers?”
“Now listen.” The stocky woman continues, her tone pleading. “Whatever's stopped the torch is inside that mountain. We need somebody to fix what's broke and that’s that. As I said, we’ll pay a fine fee.”
“Can’t collect no fee if you ain’t breathin.” A woman with a soot-covered face interjects.
“Folks, the simple truth is, if we don’t have the League’s taxes ready in two weeks it’s gonna get real uncomfortable. I know Torch ain’t much, but hell, we’ve come a long way since they beat people in the streets. And you all remember the burnings. Damnit I don’t wanna lose this town and I know you don’t too.” The crowd grows silent. “Now if you got the strength and skill then I’m askin', please help us save our town and our friends down there.”
“Y’all can see your flame in hell.” The soot covered woman says.
“The hell with this town.”
“I’m getting far from here before the League rides in.”
The gathered townsfolk chatter and disperse. No one approaches the podium, but the burly council woman waited just the same.
Zoresk isn't entirely sure why the flame is gone - thankfully, from the looks of things, neither is anyone else. After a few days of being in town, he's just about resigned himself to the fact that he may not find any answers here - nobody seemed to want to talk to the large Kellid man much. At least he had coin enough for lodgings. And food, he reminds himself as he eats his lunch, walking through the square.
He halts his stride as the amplified voice rings out across the square, slowly chewing his bread and cheese as he turns to look at the dwarf woman on the podium, thick arms crossed over his large chest, both heavily tattooed. So she didn't know why the flame was out. He looks down at his hands, focusing for a moment and watching as the ethereal purple claws form over his knuckles, large and wicked like those of a bear.
"I have no skills with a sword," he calls boldly in heavily-accented common, his voice booming as he approaches the short woman. "Yet I have strength plenty. What is the fee you speak of?"
The last few weeks had been torture for Skikkikitikut. The flame was gone! What was she to do? Go home? Join a trade caravan? Her kind was only tolerated around the unfurred to the extent that they were useful, and with the flame out her usefulness was fast disappearing.
When Miss Freddert had begun talking, Skikkikitikut had hoped against hope she would announce the flames imminent return. Now she had no hope, and all that was left was agitation.
"Ktktktktkt, what to do?" she chittered to herself. "What to do?" A large, fearsome stranger declared his intent to solve the problem with strength, and something within Skikkikitikut's heart broke, and she rushed forward.
"Miss Freddert! Miss Freddert! Ktktktktktk -- I think you're going about this all wrong. The town is trying to solve a...ktktk...technological problem with, what? Swords? Fists? What are they going to do...smash the fire? Don't you really need someone who can get in and...ktktkt...scout out the situation? Ascertain the problem without being noticed? And then...ktk...fix it? Someone like --"
Skikkikitikut fell silent as she noticed the dwarf's measuring gaze. "No, I didn't mean...that is to say...ktktktktktk...I don't think that I--" Skikkikitikut shrugged, helplessly and hopelessly. "Whatever you need," she finished.
During the dwarf woman's address to the people, Lucrezia had been mostly distracted by the unusual device amplifying the speaker's voice. She couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't magical, and had considered throwing a detection spell its way, but the thought had been cut short by the townsfolk's less than enthusiastic response.
Striding up alongside the anxious ratfolk, Lucrezia pushes back her hood out of respect so that she may speak with Dolga. As she does so, she quickly sizes up wild-looking Kellid man and gives a short nod of approval. She could work with this.
"True," she says throwing a thoughtful glance Skikkikitikut's way. "I don't think strength of arms will go far in service of relighting the flame, but expeditions don't go missing for no reason. Our technician, and any others who step forward, will need guards."
Even as she says as much, Lucrezia realizes that she might not look the part of a guard to the dwarven woman. With a conspicuously empty coat sleeve fluttering lightly in the wind, and face that would seem too pretty for a bruiser, chances are Lucrezia doesn't exactly inspire confidence at a glace. Instead she trusts the weighty hand-and-a-half sword hanging comfortably at her belt, along with her adamant glare, to convince any onlookers that she is up to the task.
"Light's out and taxes are due," she remarks, her face crumpling in distaste. "And somehow I don't think the tax collectors are going to be too broken up about it when they arrive. Resources spread thin or no, won't be hard to assert control when folk are all shook up like this. From the sound of things, some of them might even support it... if the League has the means light the flame again.
I'll do what I can to help you. If only to see what has become of Councilman Baine."
"Hmm... still no flame? Interesting. I would guess, much as they have, that the flame is connected to something in the ruins. But what? I'd guess some sort of old fuel line, but that likely would have burnt out long ago. Unless of course they had some sort of self-sustaining energy source... hmmph." Adrien pauses for a moment, muttering to himself. Looking quite foolish, he stands in the middle of the street, Ozymandias taciturn at his side, as he appears to be doing calculations in his head, moving his hands about to facilitate his arithmetic. After a moment, his eyes widen and he snaps his fingers. "Why sit here and try and figure this out on the surface! You're an archaeologist, Adrien, this is why you left Restov. This is the perfect chance to examine what are likely some very intact ruins up close."
Striding quickly over to the councilwoman, he manages to catch the tail end of Skikkikitikut's explanation. "I quite agree, as a matter of fact. If something... technological has been damaged or blocked off down in the ruins, merely sending those who've skill with a blade will accomplish little, although guards would be excellent. That said, I'm something of an archaeologist myself, and I'd love a chance to examine the ruins." Clearly proud of himself, his face pales momentarily as he realizes he's forgotten his manners. "And my apologies, ma'am. You may have seen me around town previously, but I've yet to introduce myself. My name is Adrien Belmont, of Brevoy. And this, my stalwart companion, is Ozymandias." After several seconds of silence, Adrien nudges Ozymandias with an elbow. "Go ahead, introduce yourself. Make a good impression. This is important," he mutters under his breath.
After a series of beeps and whistles, the several lights on the face of the metal behemoth behind Adrien begin to flash. "Hello, my apologies. My name is -bzzt- OZ-M1, designated by my master as Ozymandias." The automaton shudders for a moment, straightening itself to its full height. "I am quite capable of serving as a guard, despite my lack of several--" his audio cuts out for several seconds, replaced with a low buzz "--non-core systems in working order. While not all of my weapon systems are fully functional, I have been able to account for the difference--" his audio again cuts out, replaced by a high-pitched whistle "--by rerouting all excess power to remaining, operational units. My master would most likely be delighted if we were selected for this task." With that, the automaton again falls quiet, standing eerily still beside his master.
After a few seconds, the lights flicker again, just briefly. Ozymandias' head swivels towards Adrien. "Did I do well?"
Sarona watches impassively as the councilor explains the situation to the townsfolk of Torch. Normally, she wouldn't be too concerned with such an event, but the news that Khonnir Baine has gone missing catches her ear.
For a brief moment, she feels a flash of... something. Concern? Fear? It was likely that it was the case--her guardian is missing, perhaps in terrible danger, and almost no one was volunteering to go and find him...
...that is, until several people stepped forward to offer their services.
A wild-looking Kellid man, apparently able to conjure claws of some sort of energy, a ratfolk tinkerer she's seen a few times around town (and was quite shy around her, which didn't really surprise her), a one-armed lady bearing a large sword, and Adrien & his machine bodyguard, OZ-M1.
I need to get involved in this. They may not succeed without my help.
"Councilor?" The red-headed priestess steps forward, fingering her holy symbol of Brigh. "If Khonnir Baine is in danger, I must go and find him. If determining what has happened to the flame of Torch involves finding him, I insist that you allow me to make the effort."
The android briefly winces before her face returns to its normal, stoic expression.
Val will not take this news well. I will need to broach the topic with caution.
Zoresk is surprised by the number of people who step forward, seemingly in response to him. First a strange creature who looks like a large rat walking on two legs (which he regards with curiosity and suspicion), then a woman who seemed to have more arms on her coat than her body. He catches her sizing him up and returns the favour, eyes lingering on the sword at her side. He gives her a broad grin, matching her nod with one of his own. They're joined shortly after by a red-haired woman with ashen skin, and an unassuming young man with a strange robotic creature next to him. Of all those who gather around him, it's this creature that draws his attention - he openly stares, one hand clenching reflexively into a fist with a crunching of knuckles, remembering the robots he's hunted over the years. His nose aches, and he rubs it briefly, his claws flashing once before fading.
He turns to the only one to introduce himself, the small man, Adrien. He grabs one of his hands and shakes it stiffly and roughly, nearly wrenching his arm out of the socket. "Introductions, yes! I am Zoresk Totem-Caller of the White Bears, son of Korskell Iron-Slayer. Your guard, he is very strange?" He looks at Ozymandias with narrowed eyes. "I have been told that this 'hand shake' is the proper way to greet someone new, yet I do not trust your guard to not take it as a threat!"
He turns back to the councilwoman, arms spread wide to indicate the motley crew. "Adrien, One-Arm, Rodent, Grey, Ozymandias and myself are volunteering for this..." He pauses, searching for the word. "Hunt, yes," he grins widely. "We have skills, now, and we have guards. So, again - what is the pay?"
Sarona blinks. "...My name is Sarona, sir. Acolyte of the Whisper in Bronze."
She folds her hands and waits for the councilor to continue.
"Adrien, One-Arm, Rodent..."
One-Arm?! Lucrezia thinks indignantly. Her temper flares briefly until she looks down at the empty left sleeve at her side.
"Hm," she grunts in reluctant acknowledgement.
Instead of dwelling on it further, she turns her thoughts to the ironclad... thing the one calling himself Adrien had brought before them. She had, of course, heard of the multitude of mechanized constructs that roamed Numeria, but this was her first time seeing one up close. It's problematic she thinks. The heft of her bastard sword was considerable, but against armor like that she'd need to do more than just hack and slash. Gaps in the plating, sensitive looking tubes or gears, weaker looking materials, such as what covered the thing's glowing "eyes." Perhaps there were even places where the metal plating was thinner.
Not that she was thinking of attempting to dismantle the construct, but it provided valuable insight into the rogue or hostile machinery they might encounter beneath the mountain.
"...My name is Sarona, sir."
Again, Lucrezia's attention shifts, this time to the pale skinned women with brilliant red hair. Lucrezia is forced to wonder: what is she? At first the inquisitor thought the woman might be touched by the Outer Planes, like she herself was. Such a striking combination of unusual features was not out of the realm of possibility for aasimar or tieflings, but something felt off about this one. The way the woman carried her self and the stillness of her expression...
Forgetting basic etiquette, Lucrezia continues to stare at this new found curiosity (they seemed to come one after another in this strange land) while awaiting the councilwoman's response.
Sarona looks down at her feet before looking up again, noticing the one-armed woman looking at her.
Well, not so much 'looking' as 'staring'. It didn't bother Sarona too much, but she self-consciously brushes a lock of her hair aside. Her sleeve falls to her elbow, exposing the blue lines running down her arm to her hand. They branch off onto each of her fingers and run together on her palm.
"Yes?" She asks the one-armed lady, fixing her sleeve.
Lucrezia's eyes widen as she catches the blue lines running down the woman's arm. What... What is that?!
"Yes?" the woman inquires.
Lucrezia's features twist into something like a grimace upon hearing the red-haired woman acknowledge her stare. Don't drift off like a fool she thinks, bitterly scolding herself.
"N-No," she manages to stammer, looking away sharply. "It is nothing..."
So she says, but Lucrezia help but take a few more darting glances at the unusual woman from the corner of her eye. Her left side begins tingling slightly, where an arm should be, and instinctively she feels as if she is on the precipice of realizing something important.
Restrain your curiosity, Lucrezia. There will be time enough.
Skikkikitikut looks around at the others who have approached. She recognized Khonnir Baine's daughter, Sarona, and the one with the machine, though she had forgotten his name was Adrien until he introduced himself.
Of course Sarona would journey to find her father. And with her along, perhaps they won't need me?
Skikkikitikut was preparing to slink away, until Zoresk referred to her as "rodent," and her indignation overtook her fear.
"My name is Skikkiktikut. But you can call me 'Stickie.' I know," she said, "that primates such as yourself have such flat faces that it can be hard to pronounce." Then her nose droops as she realizes she'd just forfeited her only way out of this foolish expedition.
Skikkikitikut brightens again as she looks at Adrien's machine, and realizes she's never been this close to OZ--Ozy--Ozymandius before. She reaches a claw out towards one of his supports, but stops just short of touching him.
"Did he--" she starts, then turns directly to the machine. "Did you say 'non-operational'? I could," her fingers twitched in anticipation "take some things apart...tktktkt...put them back together...ktktk...maybe fix some of your systems? If you like? What's the worst that could happen?"
"He did indeed, miss... Skikkikitikut, did you say? I, and I'm sure Ozymandias as well, appreciate your offer, but I'm afraid it isn't that simple. Many of his non-working parts no longer function because some integral part of them is missing."
Adrien starts to smile, clearly enjoying this talk of technology. After a moment, he continues, "For isntance, I've noticed early on that he has some sort of... cables housed in his right arm? The mechanism to 'fire' them, so to speak, seems to work fine. However, the small flaps that open to deploy these cables are missing a few gears, and won't open without significant effort." Adrien sighs, clearly frustrated with his lack of progress. After a moment, though, his usual optimism returns to the forefront as his eyes widen with an idea. "I've been analyzing the doors to see what exactly these gears looked like, so that I might be able to rebuild them myself. If you'd like to take a look at Ozzy, helping me rebuild those parts would be an excellent start, assuming he doesn't mind."
He looks over to Ozymandias, smiling wide. "You wouldn't mind if miss... Skikt--Stitk--if miss Stickie helps me with our repair work, would you?"
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Ozymandias slowly swivels towards Skikkikitikut, until he faces her directly. He leans in slowly, his "skeletal" right hand reaching towards her extended claw, and begins to hum softly for a few moments. His head swivels slowly up and down, examining the ratfolk. He attempts to touch her outstretched claw slowly, and then abruptly stands again to his full height. "I have no qualms with Miss Skikkikitikut aiding you in your attempts to repair my damaged--" his voice cuts into static for a few moments before resuming mid-sentence "--non-core functions. She has my permission."
With that, his head swivels sharply to Zoresk. "As for you, Zoresk Totem-Caller of the White Bears, son of Korskell Iron-Slayer, I am now well-versed in human cou--cour--courtesies and manners due to my master, Adrien. I will not assault you for engaging in typical human pleasantries." His head tilts slightly, his optical sensors zooming. "Why do you not trust me, Zoresk Totem-Caller of the White Bears, son of Korskell Iron-Slayer? I find this saddening." A low whine escapes from Ozymandias as he speaks. "Perhaps a show of human respect, this hand shake--" Ozymandias extends his thin right hand towards Zoresk, "--would alleviate any animosity?"
"Bronze does not whisper, Sarona!" Zoresk laughs, a deep rumble that rises from his broad chest like water bubbling through stones. He claps her on the back, a strong blow not intended to harm, but it's evident he's used to dealing with people of his own size and strength. "Those are very strange tattoos, though," he notes as her sleeve falls, rolling up one of his own. "How were you able to make such colours?" He holds out his own arm for comparison, showing the black and orange tattoos that flex over tensed muscle, punctuated with various scars - some white with age, others still fresh and pink, burns and slashes alike.
He laughs again at Skikkikitikut's indignation, crouching to look the rat folk in the eye. "You are very strange, Stickie," he grins. "You walk on two legs yet look like an animal - be you one of the skin-changing shamans of legend?"
When he straightens, Ozymandias's head swivels toward him, and he twitches a hand closer to the bone-handled dagger at his belt, stopping short of touching it. He takes in the automaton's speech, uncertain what to make of it. Finally, he extends his right hand, hesitantly clasping Ozymandias'. His left swipes briefly across his face, rubbing his broken nose. "I spent many years raised to fight creatures like you," he says stiffly as he shakes the robot's hand. "One of your kind broke my nose, another attacked me with lightning. You have given me no reason not to trust you, but your kind has. If I am to hunt with you and your master, I shall need to put aside years of tradition. I shall have to..." He pauses, searching for the equivalent Common word. "Adapt."
"One of my kind? I... I do not understand." After shaking Zoresk's hand, Ozymandias lets his right arm drop, hanging at his side. "I was not aware I had a kind, Zoresk Totem-Caller of the White Bears, son of Korskell Iron-Slayer. Despite this, I do hope you can a--ad--adapt to my presence. I understand that some humanoids find me to be..." his audio fades out, with a clear whirring noise coming from his speakers as he searches for the word, "Disconcerting. I believe it would please my master greatly if I were able to dissuade you of this notion."
His head slowly shifts back to Adrien, the lights blinking rhythmically. "Am I correct in this assumption, Adrien?"
"Precisely, Ozzy. I understand your reservations, but Ozymandias is not like these other... automatons, robots that roam the Numerian wilds. Truly, as he says, that are not his 'kind', as it were." Adrien places a hand on the behemoth's side, patting him softly as one might a child or family pet. "It's remarkable how quickly he's adapted to the modern life here on Golarion. It's still surprising, even after all this time. But enough about us, at least for now." He turns to face the dwarven councilwoman, and puts on a roguish smile. "So, I must agree. How much is this fee, exactly? And when might we begin this expedition?"
Sarona flinches when Zoresk claps her on the back. "Ow."
"On the subject of my... 'tattoos', as you call them, I was created with them. It may be difficult to explain."
Zoresk looks back to Adrien as the small man pipes up again. "If he fights well, I'll fight with him," he says simply, shrugging broad shoulders. "I would like it if he would not strike at me in his duties. And for my part, I shall attempt not to strike him. He is very polite, I will say," he admits, with another apprehensive glance at Ozymandias. He's aware of how stilted his Common must sound to these people; he makes a note to listen closely to them in an attempt to pick up their language better.
"So you were born with them?" he asks of Sarona, brow furrowing. "You did not earn them? That is strange." He mulls over this for a moment; a memory of a legend comes back to him and he grins. "Ah! I have heard of those who accomplished great deeds in another life being born with the markings they earned. If this is true of you, then you are indeed blessed!"
Dolga beams with relief when a group steps forward. "Right now..." she winces as she realizes she's still talking through the loudspeaker and pockets the metal device, bringing her voice back to a normal volume.
"Right now, the Council was offerin' a pot of 4,000 gold to whoever can reignite the flame. But I've spoken with the others and we're puttin' another 4,000 on the table for ascertainin' the fate of Councilor Baine."
Her grin ceases when she notices Sarona. "Sarona, darlin', I can't in all good conscience let you go down there. Your father would have my hide for allowin' that."
Sarona is about to reply to Zoresk's inaccurate assessment of where her 'tattoos' come from when Councilor Dolga speaks up again.
4000 gold pieces for the flame's revival, and another 4000 for finding Khonnir--
"Sarona, darlin', I can't in all good conscience let you go down there. Your father would have my hide for allowin' that."
Sarona's eyes widen and she feels a flash of... something. Likely irritation. "In all good conscience, Councilor..." Sarona replies, "...my 'father', as you put it, is missing. I need to find him, and Val needs him."
She looks at the rest of the volunteers. "Are any of you capable healers? Because if not, I am willing to offer my assistance in that respect. I am a priestess of Brigh--my healing skills will surely be of use to you." Her tone wavers, fraught with uncertainty.
"...my 'father', as you put it"
"Do not get me wrong, Councilor--Khonnir is very much like a father to me, but I am not his biological daughter."
She tilts her head. "Am I overcomplicating things?"
"Are any of you capable healers? Because if not, I am willing to offer my assistance in that respect. I am a priestess of Brigh--my healing skills will surely be of use to you."
"At times, I can call upon the General for aid. Ask that he might show compassion, and force shut wounds in the heat of battle," Lucrezia says, trying not to stare this time. "But a capable healer, I am not."
She turns to face Dolga.
"We need a good mender. Unless you have some other volunteer who could take her place, what other option is there?"
"I know many principles of healing," Skikkikitikut offers. "I can set a broken bone, and treat burns, and bandage wounds to help people recover. And I can--" she looks around at the others, and then stops. "That's what you meant, is it?"
"I was referring to being able to call upon divine favour to immediately treat injuries." Sarona scratches her neck. "I am also versed in those forms of medicine, Skikkikitikut."
"And if need be, I can call upon Brigh's power to burn anything that means me harm."
"We will keep her safe," Zoresk says confidently, stretching his arms as if already limbering up for the chaos sure to follow his movements. "Let her look for her father. She may have a good idea of where to find him - the bonds of family are strong!
"And," he adds, grinning wickedly, "the best form of healing is not needing it in the first place." An odd statement coming from one with so many scars, but not an inconsistency he appears to notice.
"I'm afraid I'm not much use as a healer," Adrien confesses. He shrugs, a forlorn look on his face. "Most of my magical training was centered in... other areas. If I were to come across a wand or some such, I could perhaps be of use, but purchasing such a thing is far beyond my means at the moment." For a moment, he looks as though he's about to mention Ozymandias' lack of skill when it comes to healing, but it dawns on him that this is likely common sense.
"While I agree it would be a shame if anything were to happen to Miss Sarona, Councilor, it is likely in our best interest for her to accompany us on this expedition. She is the only one among us with any great skill in magical healing." He makes a move to clap Zoresk on the back as he stretches, and continues. "And I believe our large friend here is right. Familial bonds are not easily broken."
Dolga nods, although she still seems reluctant. "Very well, Sarona. You're your own woman, there's no mistakin' that. If you must go, at least tell Val where you're going."
She looks to the rest of the party. "Speaking of Val, she's Khonnir Baine's other daughter. Since her father disappeared, she's closed down the tavern and is offering lodging for any group willing to brave the caverns 'neath Black Hill. You'd do well to talk to her before leavin'. Before you do that though, do you have any questions for me?"
Sarona feels a sense of relief. "My thanks, Councilor."
She smiles. Or at least, tries to. It comes off as being odd-looking.
"I can think of a few questions, yes," Lucrezia says, looking directly into Dolga's eyes.
"For starters, what more can you tell us about the situation? Specifically, what should we expect once we start exploring those caverns? You are aware of their existence at least. Has no one explored them before and brought back reports of their findings?"
The inquisitor takes a few paces, moving in a semi-circle around the councilwoman while keeping her eyes focused on Dolga's face.
"Surely, you have more information that what you revealed from the podium? You have your volunteers, one of the councilman's own kin among them. Please. If there is anything else you know which could prepare us, I'm sure we would hear it gladly."
"Questions, questions, questions. Ktktktktktk..." Skikkikitikut chitters excitedly. "Where exactly is this place? And, and, and...tkt...how many parties have you already sent to restart the flame? And who exactly was in them? Tktktktkt...have any of their remains been seen? And has anything ever come out of that entrance before...ktktk...besides really hot fire?" Skikkikitikut pants for a few moments. "I can think of more questions in a minute if you like."
Much like an elephant not noticing the landing of a fly, Zoresk doesn't even register Adrien's clap on his back, continuing to stretch and nearly elbowing the half-elf in the side of the head. "When do we leave?" he asks bluntly, shrugging.
"Personally, I have many questions, but I imagine many of them I'll have to find the answers to myself, once we travel into the ruins. Unless..." Adrien brings his chin to his hand, comically avoiding Zoresk's elbow by virtue of his small stature. "I don't suppose you know the era these ruins are from? Depending on when they're from, we're likely to face a variety of different dangers. Or what they're primarily made from? Or..." Adrien prattles on for a few moments, before a light tap of Ozymandias's hand on his shoulder brings him back to the task at hand.
"Sorry, my apologies. I believe all of my... more reasonable questions have already been asked by my colleagues. I have a tendency to carry on, on occasion."
"For starters, what more can you tell us about the situation? Specifically, what should we expect once we start exploring those caverns? You are aware of their existence at least. Has no one explored them before and brought back reports of their findings?"
Holga holds up her hands defensively. "Now this isn't an interrogation, Ms. Nim. I'll tell you what I know. The flame guttered out about eight days ago. Since then, four teams have gone into the new tunnels that Khonnir found, but only one's come back: that was Khonnir's crew, but they went back in and we haven't seen 'em since."
"What Khonnir said he'd found was almost too strange to believe. Bugs and worms the size of a dog. Men that blend into the cavern walls. A whole nest of gremlins. He thought that it the caves could go deeper, all the way inta the Darklands, but he never got that far down. He was too distracted by the metal wall. He said it was glaucite, like the kind we mine from the hills hereabouts, but forged into a smooth wall with doors. That's where he found the broken machine and brought back to his lab." She points at Ozymandias. "Not unlike that machine, in fact."
"Questions, questions, questions. Ktktktktktk..." Skikkikitikut chitters excitedly. "Where exactly is this place? And, and, and...tkt...how many parties have you already sent to restart the flame? And who exactly was in them? Tktktktkt...have any of their remains been seen? And has anything ever come out of that entrance before...ktktk...besides really hot fire?" Skikkikitikut pants for a few moments. "I can think of more questions in a minute if you like."
"Khonnir discovered an underwater passage connecting the Weeping Pond to the center of Black Hill. He was there the day the fires went out - testin' the water for toxicity - and he noticed a large number of footprints going into the water and not emergin.'
"There were four parties in total. The first were a group of three halfins'. When the flame went out, they were the first to volunteer. I tried to talk 'em out of it, but they were eager for adventure. When they didn't come back, some local toughs thought to give it a try. Mostly scum, ready to make a quick buck offa a town crisis, but Parda Garr was withem. Ain't nobody in town that wouldn't call her a friend and I'm worried that her running with those thugs wound up the way we all expected it too. The third group was a party that devoted themselves to Brigh. Finally, there's Khonnir's team. The came back after the third expedition and haven't come back from the fifth. All of theses groups went in, but didn't come out, remains or otherwise. Hell, up until eight days ago, nothing came out of Black Hill 'cept a flame hot enough to melt glaucite."
Much like an elephant not noticing the landing of a fly, Zoresk doesn't even register Adrien's clap on his back, continuing to stretch and nearly elbowing the half-elf in the side of the head. "When do we leave?" he asks bluntly, shrugging.
The dwarf councilwoman smiles. "As soon as you're willin', but I'd still stop by the Foundry before you leave and speak with Val."
She looks at the party expectantly. "Any more questions?"
"He said it was glaucite, like the kind we mine from the hills hereabouts, but forged into a smooth wall with doors. That's where he found the broken machine and brought back to his lab."
Sarona's eyes widen. "Doors crafted from glaucite? Situated under the town?" The android begins fidgeting. "Just what did Khonnir get himself into...?"
"As soon as you're willin', but I'd still stop by the Foundry before you leave and speak with Val."
Sarona nods. "I agree--Val needs to be notified of what has happened."
Adrien's face lights up at the mention of another automaton. "You said another machine, like Ozymandias? Where? Could I examine him before leaving? When was he retrieved? What kind of condition was it in, and did they attempt to repair it before they departed again?" Clearly excited, Adrien does little to curb his enthusiasm, but after a moment coughs to clear his throat. "I apologize for my outburst, but I've found very little similar to Ozzy in all my travels. And examining this other... robot, may allow me to glean some information of what's waiting for us in the caverns."
It takes him a moment, but the statement about glaucite walls finally hits him. "Why would there be glaucite walls beneath the city? That doesn't make any sense, unless they were part of the wreckage that could have been creating the flame... no, enough speculation. If we can manage to repair that automaton to some degree, it may be able to provide us with answers to some of our questions."
Bugs and worms the size of a dog, men that blend into the walls. Lucrezia bites down on her lip slightly. There was a haunting similarity between some of the things Dolga had mentioned and the horrors that were common near the Worldwound. And Lucrezia was going to face them, not with a cadre of Ragathiel's servants, but... with this lot.
They all seem a genuine and honest-minded sort, but... It wasn't the same as traveling with people she trusted.
Dolga's words echo in her head, "Now this isn't an interrogation..."
Wasn't it, though? Except the councilwoman wasn't subject of the interrogation; it was Lucrezia's resolve. If it were a matter of upholding her father's will, then there would be no hesitation, but doing something for herself? She stood now at the precipice, but what of it? She would need to invest not just in these other volunteers, but also herself to proceed.
"I apologize for the scrutiny. Such intensity is... simply the way of many folk in Mendev. I appreciate what you've shared with us."
Lucrezia bows shortly the the councilwoman and then turns to the rest.
"Val, was it? Sarona, I'd appreciate if you'd show me the way. Once everyone is in agreement."
"Parda? Oh no," Skikkikitikut says. "What was she...tkt...thinking? She had a future, didn't need to make a...ktktk...quick score. Just cause no one can stay in a ring with you for more than a minute doesn't mean you can face down a monster."
She pauses, then asks, "So when Khonnir and his team came out, did he bring back any remains from the first teams? Or is that something to ask Val, too? I guess we should go to the Foundry then, kkkk?"
Sarona nods. "I will show you to the Foundry. At least Val will be expecting us."
Once everyone's questions have been answered, she turns and begins leading the party to the Foundry tavern. "I wonder if Val is still tinkering with whatever Khonnir brought back..."
Dolga shrugs. "All that Khonnir brought back with him the last time was that robot. As far as I know, it's in the Foundry right now, sitting in a corner. He didn't see anybody else. If ya'll need anything else, you can find me in the Town Hall. Councilors Otterbie and Kyte are working on a wastewater problem, Councilor Olandir seems to have the headache bug that's been going 'round town, and Councilor Baine, is well, you know... That reminds me. The entrance to the caves requires a bit of swimming. Father Kyte has something for that." The dwarven woman offers you a smile. "Don't hesitate to ask."
***
As you approach the crest of a small hill with Baine's house and adjacent workshop/tavern in sight, you hear a distinct shrill noise: the scream of an adolescent girl. A loud crash followed by the tinkling of shattered glass follows. The commotion seems to be coming from the rear of the complex. Sarona is aware of a simple wooden door that provides an entrance.
Sarona's eyes widen as she hears the scream. "Val is in trouble."
In a flash, fire appears at her fingertips. "We must hurry." She says in a (surprisingly) stoic tone as she takes off running for the tavern.