Defender of Oerth
~ The golems speaks this time. How capital! ~
Respen is completely silent and makes no immediate response to her query. He contemplates two options in his mind, two derivations of the same plan: escape through the teleport circle or through the well opening. Two hours of daylight; this would go better if he had more time. They had not come back for him; for all he knew, they could be dead. Or engaged in battle. Or simply unable to return. He thinks a moment, given the silence in the cavern a chance to settle. He puts away the alchemy/oil bomb, undoing the package carefully. ~ No need for this. ~
If he can’t get past the golem, nothing else matters. If he does, it’s a matter of where. Back to Vega and the tower and try to find a way back to the group, or through the teleport circle back with the party, wherever they went, likely with the golem right behind him. He realizes that he needs time to sort this out. And he is supremely curious. He removes a scroll tube from his backpack and unfurls the parchment with the information he scribbled from Margull’s office regarding the Vampire volume. He recalls Sylvar’s tale about the drow mage and her assassin mate. Respen, opening the rope trick several inches, addresses the ‘voice-in-the-golem' inquisitively, as he might a Lord or Lady; politely with discretion, but nonetheless to the point.
“Your Grace, please pardon my impertinence, but you want me to come down from here? With all due respect, I’ll pass for the moment, but I’ll visit with you, if you’d like. I have no reason to be impolite. I’ve made a bit of a mess, and for that, I apologize for the offense.” Respen smiles in spite of himself, uncharacteristically impish. “I’ve never spoken to someone through a golem before. It’s…uniquely unsettling, as I’m sure you can imagine. ”
“Might I inquire, at risk of offending you, your Grace, is your name ‘Clare’, and are you the exquisite work of art mentioned in the bard’s song? Serindak’s mate? ”
“The truth is that I came here under the pretense of seeking gold as bounty for the skulls or ears of undead simpletons. Macabre, isn’t it? I didn’t think of it; somebody else did. Your retainers have put away a few lustful and foolhardy adventurers who heeded the call. However, as it happens, my motivation is much more complex. Much more. I came here hoping to obtain information, not bounty. I have no deathwish; my interest is genuine.”
Respen pauses: “Your Grace, would you regale me about Symval? And Lynalla? And Jarren? And Ferrindar? And Xavier? Would you tell me what you know about the ‘True Vampires’, their whereabouts, and this tragic end to which most have come?”
Whatever she says about the true vampires or herself, or Serindak, if anything, he copies down on parchment.