Dorn stands alert, buckler and his magical longsword Swift posed for readiness, should the massive creature violate the seeming truce that Aele has managed to establish.
"Amazing!" Aele says, still head craned at an odd angle, one eye pressed to the aperture between door and jamb.
"What is it!?" Cabe queries.
"I see a long, narrow stone hallway, lined with copper pipes and valves." The light from Aele's lantern reflects off a moving object roughly twenty feet down the hall.
The wizard-priest sees a Clockwork Custodian—a spindly, three-legged brass construct about five feet tall. Instead of a head, it has a rotating glass lens that emits a faint, flickering blue light. One of its arms is a specialized pincer, currently holding a heavy iron wrench.
Aele relates to his companions what he is seeing. "Does it look dangerous?" Dorn asks, impatiently? "Perhaps less dangerous than your sacred friend here?"
The machine is moving in a fixed, ten-foot loop. It stops at a specific valve. It makes three distinct clink-clink-clink sounds as it tightens a bolt that has likely been tight for centuries. It turns with a heavy, grinding slide of its brass feet and walks five paces back to its starting point.
Aele relates this, then: "Now it's repeating the same pattern, again. That's four times in a row."
"What else? Every detail may matter," Cabe encourages.
"Hmm?" Aele asks. "Oh! Well ... it's hard to tell in the dim light, but it looks like the floor is littered with copper shavings and small bits of debris."
"Bits of what?" Dorn asks.
Cabe supplies, "Detritus along the passageway," and then notes the elevated rate of Dorn's heartbeat as the big fighter restrains an urge to decapitate the blood-binder. "Trash, junk in the hallway beyond. Garbage."
"Perhaps I could take a look?" Cabe asks. They switch places and Cabe studies what is beyond the crack of the door carefully. After a few seconds he says, "It looks as if the hallway seems to open into a larger chamber, beyond the ... construct."
"Yes, that would be the Administrative Loop. I learned about it while researching the ancient ruins during our last Downtime in Gosterwick, Why, did you know that—"
"—Recommended actions?" Dorn interjects, and though he carefully modulates his tone out of consideration for the great ape, his impatience makes itself known.
"Do you know any command words that might disable it?" the blood-binder asks the Thothian.
"Good thinking!" Aele says. "Try the word 'Aval'..."
Cabe does so; after a few seconds: "No, that didn't work."
"Try 'Tacere' then," Aele suggests.
Cabe slips into the hallway beyond the door with the silent efficiency of a shadow, his hand hovering near his Ritual Athame just in case the brass construct reacts with hostility. The door opens surprisingly silently, thanks to recently oiled hinges. He times his movement perfectly, stepping over a pile of copper shavings as the automaton begins its three-beat clink-clink-clink ritual on the valve.
He stands roughly five feet behind the spindly machine and speaks the word: 'Tacere!'
The effect is instantaneous. The automaton’s pincer arm freezes mid-turn. The constant grinding of internal gears dies down to a faint, high-pitched whine. Its rotating glass lens, which had been flickering with a restless blue light, dims to a soft, pulsing amber.
The machine remains standing on its three legs, but it has apparently entered a "Standby" or "Maintenance Pause" mode. It no longer patrols; it simply waits for the next command or for its internal timer to reset — not that our heroes realize that.
Dorn and Aele move into the hallway behind Cabe. Dorn gives a low whistle of appreciation, eyeing the intricate brass work of the construct. "Are we safe from the guardian?" Cabe asks.
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"It was eating the apple. We should move along. It might want more," Dorn answers.
"Nice work, Cabe," Dorn whispers, tapping the hilt of Swift. "Saved us some noise and a lot of dented armor."
Aele, however, is looking past the machine. He takes several steps on down the corridor with his lantern in his off-hand, his mace in the other. When he returns he reports: "About thirty feet ahead, the hallway opens into a four-way junction. Faint light, similar to the blue glow of our mechanical friend here, spills out from the left corridor."
"Cabe, take point, please. Aele stay between the two of us, single file."
The trio reaches the four-way. The smell of stagnant water and wet fur drifts from the right, Cabe's delicate senses inform him. Past the intersection, the north-running hall ends in a pair of double doors, much more ornate than the one they just passed. The doors stand closed. They are carved with the image of a giant ibis holding a scroll.
"I've got three faint hearbeats coming from down that way," Cabe says, pointing along the eastward hallway. "Small, maybe the size of small dogs. Call it, boss."
"Go right. I don't want to leave unidentified creatures at our backs," Dorn decides.
The party pivots toward the east, the smell of wet fur and stagnant water growing more pungent. Dorn takes the lead, the glow of Swift dancing off the damp, stone-blocked walls. The floor begins to slope slightly downward, and a thin film of dark, greasy water covers the flagstones.
About fifteen feet down the eastern hall, Cabe’s Heart Thrum begins to pulse with urgency. The three rapid heartbeats he detected are no longer stationary. They are moving—fast. He raises his left hand. "Heads up," Cabe whispers, right hand tightening on his ritual athame. "They're coming from the shadows ahead. Low and quick."
Dorn jerks his shield up just as three shapes launch themselves from the darkness where the wall has partially collapsed into a sewer pipe.
These aren't your average wharf rats; they are the size of badgers, with mangy, gray-white fur and eyes that reflect the lantern light with an unnatural red glint. They are starving and desperate.
Initiative Check:
Dorn: 1d20 + 1 (Fleet) = 16
Cabe: 1d20 = 12
Aele: 1d20 = 9
Rats: 1d20 = 11
Dorn steps forward into the greasy water, positioning himself as the vanguard. He swings Swift in a wide, horizontal arc to clear space.
Attack: 1d20 + 7 = 22 (Hit!)
Damage: 1d8 + 7 = 11
Result: Dorn cleaves the lead rat nearly in half. It lets out a wet squeal and dies instantly.
Cabe lunges past Dorn’s shield, his Beast-kin reflexes kicking in. He targets the second rat.
Action: He triggers Red Frenzy (Suffer 1d4 damage to gain +2 Attack/Damage).
Self-Damage: 1d4 = 2 (Cabe's HP: 29/31).
Attack: 1d20 + 3 + 2 (Frenzy) = 17 (Hit!)
Damage: 1d4 + 3 + 2 (Frenzy) = 8
Cabe’s athame pierces the rat’s skull. It drops motionless into the muck. The final rat, seeing its pack-mates slaughtered, goes into a frenzy. It leaps at the nearest target: Dorn.
Attack vs Dorn (AAC 21): 1d20 + 2 = 9 (Miss!)
Result: The rat's yellowed teeth scrape harmlessly against Dorn’s chainmail greaves.
Dorn: 35/34 HP (3 Temp) | AAC 21
Cabe: 29/31 HP | AAC 17 (Will regenerate 1 HP next round)
Aele: 27/27 HP | AAC 15
Enemies: 1 Giant Rat remaining.
Aele, seeing the creature already harried by his companions, decides to conserve his divine favor. He steps forward, raising his heavy mace, the metal head gleaming with the reflected azure light of Dorn's blade.
Attack: 1d20 = 13 (Hit!)
Damage: 1d6 = 4
Result: With a solid thwack, Aele brings the mace down on the final rat’s back.
The creature is crushed against the damp flagstones and lies still.
With the rats cleared, the trio stands in the shallow, greasy water of the east wing. The light from the lantern reveals that this corridor ends in a heavy grate that has been rusted through at the bottom—likely where the rats entered from the sewers.
Cabe surveys with his Heart Thrum ability. The immediate area is now clear. Aside from the metallic tang of the rats’ blood, Cabe picks up a sharp, chemical odor coming from nearby—it smells vaguely of acid or caustic soda. Cabe turns, pivoting and taking in scents, trying to pinpoint…
While Dorn fishes the chest out onto the passage floor, Cabe surveys with his Heart Thrum ability. The immediate area is now clear. Aside from the metallic tang of the rats' blood, Cabe picks up a sharp, chemical odor coming from nearby—it smells vaguely of acid or caustic soda.
"Hmm, what's this?" Dorn says. Just to the left of the grate, there is a partially submerged stone chest. It is covered in a thick layer of black slime and appears to have been washed into this corner by a long-ago flood. As he leans down to retrieve it, Cabe says "Wait!" Dorn turns inquisitively.
Cabe approaches, squats down and sniffs, then quickly backs away. "Don't get close to it. The chest has some sort of slime on it." Dorn looks at him questioningly. Cabe continues "Wanna lose a hand? This would be a good way to do it."
Dorn backs away, eying the chest — or rather, the mostly transparent slime coating it — with newfound respect. "I hate to leave behind possible treasure. We could certainly use some funds. Someone desired to spend most of our gold the last time we were in Gosterwick," he says, then cuts his eyes at Aele.
"Okay, okay," Aele raises hand. "Stand aside. I can take care of this." Dorn and Cabe share a glance, but stand back. After several seconds, Dorn says, "What are you going to do?"
"I'm already doing it," the wizard-priest says. "It's just going to take a minute. I'm focusing radiant energy on the surface of the chest. Most slimes are killed by fire, by heat. I ... think this is a slime-mold variant, a caustic organism. It's probably been feeding on the chest for weeks."
The black slime hisses and boils as Aele continues to focus radiant energy on it, turning into a foul-smelling gray ash that flakes away. The caustic substance is completely neutralized in a wide circle around the latch. Dorn then uses a dagger to flick the latch after doing his best to check the chest for traps.
Finally, the chest is opened, and nobody has lost a hand or a weapon doing it. Inside, protected by a lead lining that kept the dampness out:
A Heavy Leather Satchel: Containing three glass vials filled with a clear, bubbling blue liquid.
A Silver Scroll Tube: Engraved with the symbol of the Administrative Loop.
A Purse of Ancient Coinage: 85 Silver Pieces (SP) and 12 Gold Pieces (GP) minted with the face of a forgotten Archon.