While waiting for Sarris to open the door to their right, Valeria sends Mal further ahead to the west to do some scouting.

Mal
Stealth: 17
Perception: 21

((@DM How long has passed since the fight with the Axe?))

Marasatra edges up beside Sarris, staff held idle across her forearms, and draws a vial of silver-flecked ink. “While your imp scouts, let me ready fresh sight,” she murmurs to Val. She kneels on a dry stone brace, nicks the side of her thumb with the scalpel affixed to her staff, and mixes the drop of blood with ink in her palm. With the mixture she sketches a thumb-sized quill sigil on the beam; the lines thrum faintly as she chants the litany for detect magic. Ten measured breaths, then ten more, her eyes never leaving the slow swirl of murky water beyond Sarris’s shoulder as she prepares to pierce whatever wards lie deeper in the cultists’ maze. 

(About an hour and a half.)

Listening at the door while Marasatra does her magics, Sarris will hope to detect anything of note -- be it smells or sounds --  coming from the east door.

Perception: 12

You can hear heavy breathing coming from beyond the door.

Sarris will take a step back from the door and indicate he heard 'heavy breathing' behind the door - letting everyone know and be on heighten readiness.

Marasatra lowers her voice. “Heavy breathing like that often means a badly wounded survivor—or something large fighting for air,” she cautions, tightening her grip on the staff but signals that they should not hesitate too long before opening the door.

Sensing the others' hesitation, Arkon grips his flail and shield tightly as he steps forward to kick in this door as well.

Athletics: 19

Gorin stands at the ready in the back. 

((clear, so no protector cannon anymore)) 

The door breaks open along with what sounds like multiple snaps. Just across the door, sit a large man. Half of his face is marred with a burn while his body is covered with wounds. Makeshift first aid has been applied to the worst of it but the blood still soaks the bandages. 

He forces himself up, his height matching with Arkon's, and raises his maul in a stance. "Alright, so you ain't the dead three cultists and you ain't got those masks. Probably another damned cult or assassins, so we fighting or not?"

Quote from Virst >>

The door breaks open along with what sounds like multiple snaps. Just across the door, sit a large man. Half of his face is marred with a burn while his body is covered with wounds. Makeshift first aid has been applied to the worst of it but the blood still soaks the bandages. 

He forces himself up, his height matching with Arkon's, and raises his maul in a stance. "Alright, so you ain't the dead three cultists and you ain't got those masks. Probably another damned cult or assassins, so we fighting or not?"

Zim steps up front and presents his Flaming Fists Badge, "Cultist? Do I look like a bloody cultist?" Zim puts the wooden token away and bashes his shield with his morningstar. "You don't look so good? We're here on orders from the fists to clear out this den of death. If you are fighting cultists, like we are, then you might be our ally? What say you?"

The young red-haired patriar finds the large man intriguing and steps up beside Arkon to engage in the conversation, she too showing her badge. "Indeed, Flaming Fist deputees at your service. But if you are not a cultist then who are you and what are you doing down here?" She says in a friendly and curious tone.

Persuasion to make friendly contact: 10
Insight to determine if the man is truthful: 4

"Don't look so good...is it my face or the stab wounds that's don't look good? And if you are speaking true, then I'd agree, that would make us allies...I'm Mortlock Vanthampur, third child of Duke Thalamra Vanthampur, and black sheep of the family."

"You are a Vanthampur? Of the Baldur's Gate Vanthampur's?" The young red-haired patriar says with a mix of skepticism and amusement. "So what in the nine hells are you doing down here? Did the cultists grab you for a hefty ransom and you managed to flee in here as the men in black came?"

History to determine what Valeria knows about the Vanthampur patriar family: 10

Vanthampur is well known, as the duke is one of the patriars on the Council of Four, that are the highest seat of power within Baldur's gate's government.

"Hah! You obviously don't know my mother. She'd only pay a single copper for me and that's if she has one on her. She ordered me to oversee the cultists. Her goal is to prove that the Flaming Fist can’t do its job. Once the city stops paying them, the Flaming Fist will have less of a reason to stay in Baldur’s Gate. With them gone, no one can stand in the way of my mother becoming the city’s next grand duke. If she gets her way, Baldur’s Gate will share Elturel’s fate and get dragged down into the Nine Hells."

Gorin reacts shocked at the mention that someone would want the same to happen to Baldur's gate as happened to his own town

"How could someone wish for that to happen." he says "Than we better show the flaming fist can take care of the cultists; even it is with some help"

Sarris is not certain yet if this person is friend or foe.  "YOU were tasked to oversee the cultists?  Are your wounds from battling the dragonmasks or did the cultists betray you?"

Insight:  22

The young red-haired patriar has some trouble believing what she hears at first as large man spills the proverbial beans, all of them it seemed. She wasn't at all surprised over patriars scheming to garner more power, that was in their lifeblood or they wouldn't be patriars in the first place. It was still a bit much to take in though. "Are you saying your mother is somehow behind the activities of the Dead three cultists? Are you willing to testify to this?" She asks with some excitement. "And what in the nine hells do you mean by that last part?" She adds as that too sinks in. Had Elturel somehow been dragged down into the nine hells, the thought was preposterous, or was the man simply speaking figuratively.

Marasatra steps forward without a word, lifting the quill-in-bone amulet from her collar. A muted crimson sheen seeps from the symbol into her palm; she presses that light to Mortlock’s deepest gash, letting the warmth knit flesh and still the worst bleeding (Divine spark heals for 5 HP). When the radiance fades she withdraws, studying the big man’s face while Valeria and Sarris press their questions. Inside, her thoughts tumble—Dead-Three cells managed by a duke’s son, Elturel’s name spoken alongside talk of the Hells, the Flaming Fist set up to fail. She folds her hands over her staff and waits, measuring every answer against the dark ledger forming in her mind.