Garvid listens to Ishani's tale, keeping an eye on the crowd. He frowns as he sees people turned away. Can't cure them all, I understand. Best to cut that plague at the source., he thinks, shaking his head.
"We have to.", he simply answers, starting to step into the crowd with trained nimbleness. "Alright, people. We've got business related to the sickness in the temple. Let us and the cleric through!", he says loudly to the people in front of him, gently, but firmly removing people from the way.
He attempts to stay close to the cleric, then turns to ask him. "You got a sister in the Acadamae? We were meaning to check the place out about... the extrapantheonal deity I mentioned earlier, see if we can track where the items the attackers had. You said you cut ties, you mean all ties?" He nudges a young man to the side. "You think the Church can get us access inside, or some sort of magical assistance? We've got an expert of our own, but we need all the help we can get."
Pietro was happy that the cleric had promised to come back and heal Brienne. He was ready to come back with something himself but knew that the cleric's prayers were probably more appropriate.
The doctor went right behind Garvid who was pushing his way through. He wasn't sure what business they had but wanted to talk to someone who knew waht was going on.
Li gets caught up with what the others had discussing on the way to the Grand Vault of Abadar. She was glad that they had secured healing for Brienne and she was more than happy to accompany the others to make sure it happened. Maybe it was just her own imagination running wild but it seemed like Li saw sick people wherever she looked while they were walking.
She listened to Ishani as he talked. "Ya be lucky ya be findin' tha church of Abadar when ya bein' alone." It was Li's way of making small talk but she couldn't help thinking that Ishani would have turned out much different if Lamm had found him instead of Abadar.
Her stomach dropped as she saw the crowd gathered before the house of Abadar. I don't be thinkin' this bein' a coincidence anymore. She kept close to the others as Garvid took the lead. She made sure that they all didn't get separated as many hands reached out in desperation.
Yaziyah listens quietly to Ishani's story as they walk. Like Li, she keeps seeing sick people everywhere, and worries about an epidemic.
At the temple of Abadar, she frowns at the crowd on the steps. "Is there no side entrance?" But as the others seem determined to push through the throng, she sighs and follows closely behind Garvid.
Mouse hangs close behind Garvid, setting herself between the surging crowds and her companions and doing her best to keep Yazi, Pietro, and Ishani protected in the group's center. Every time she has to push away a grasping hand from the priest's robes or the medicine woman's dress, she shudders slightly, keeping the contact as brief as possible; the sores covering Brienne and the child's racking coughs are fresh in her mind. Please don' git sick, don' git sick... Why's everyone comin' 'ere? she chimes in as she sidesteps another passer-by, too nervous even to look for sores as his arm brushes her own. Can't th' Pantheon 'elp none of 'em?
”Let us and the cleric through!”
Upon the utterance of the words, bloodshot eyes at the periphery of the crowd immediately dart in your direction. They take furtive, secretive steps toward you, perhaps hoping others don’t notice.
”Cleric?….did he say...a priest?...Is there a priest?...A healer....Here is a cleric!”
The crowd swells and suddenly you are surrounded as dirty, rash-covered hands fly out to clutch at Ishani’s robes.
”A HEALER! HE IS A PRIEST!” One vagrant woman shrieks, displaying a crude wood-carved key in an apparent show of faith. Garvid easily muscles his way through, and Li is quick enough on her feet to side-step a man lunging for her. While this places them in relative safety ahead of the others, it also separates them from Ishani, Mouse, Pietro, and Yazi.
”And a doctor!” A old woman grasps Pietro’s sleeve. ”Please sir, my husband is dying, lying in the street just there, won’t you at least look at him?” .
”Is she...is she a medicine woman?...No, she's a Horser witch! She’s who brought this sickness t’us!” Despite the defamatory claim, a well-dressed man falls to his knees before Yazi and clutches the hem of her skirt. ”Pl--please” he gasps, his words cut short by a fit of coughing.
Ishani is overcome entirely as his robes are grasped and torn, pulled forcefully down to his knees as the crowd swarms him and dozens of the sickly riffraff beg to be cured.
"Let me go! I cannot help you! Help! Help me, please!"
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Garvid turns at the crowds surrounding Ishani, his face wincing as he'd slipped himself. He looks at the crazed people, as he slams his foot down, letting out a bellowing roar. "I SAID, LET GO!" He turns to the crowd, shoving a man down. "We're here to get this thing sorted, so let us do it! Now, keep order, or I'll be forced to use force!" He shouts at the crowd, moving closer to get the cleric out of the dogpile, as he holds the halberd's hilt towards a man's chest, staring him straight in the eyes.
As the crowd starts to part, he does his best to calm the spirits down. "We want to get this cured just as much as you do! So keep the peace!", he bellows out, halberd held high up.
C'mon - c'mon, 'e ain't gon' do no healin' if y' kill 'im! Mouse bellows, trying to push off the mass of people surrounding the cleric. 'E jus' needs t' git inside th' temple - tha's all! Th' church's doin' everythin' they can t' 'elp -
But, at the worst possible moment, a perverse thought crosses Mouse's usually well-meaning mind. Was the Abadaran church doing everything they could? After all, they were pulling out the riot police to deal with the supplicants on their doorstep...and it was only the wealthy who were getting past the line of clerics on the steps... Sure, Ishani had agreed to help Brienna, but until she and Garvid had cornered him and talked him into it he'd been more than prepared to leave a little girl dying for want of a few coin...
Was it even the right thing anymore, defending the institutions that were so clearly failing those they were meant to protect?
Wait - no matter who's righ' or wrong 'ere, there ain't no sense in beatin' a man over it... C'mon - git away!
At the back of the group Li remains relatively unnoticed by the crowd as she has nothing to offer them. She watches in horror as things start to unravel for the others. The desperate people in the crowd give in to their fear and start acting unruly, even endangering her friends. She feels panic rise up inside her as Ishani is pulled down. They wouldn't be able to help anyone if the crowd ripped them apart before they even talked to anyone in charge...and without Ishani, Brienna wouldn't get the help she needed.
She uses her natural nimbleness to try and block the grasping hands from the others so that they could move forward. Out of necessity, she also makes sure that her sap is at hand but she hopes she wouldn't have to use it.
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"Rovagug consume their blasted souls, what is the hold up?"
Lord Blackoak raps his staff on the ceiling of his carriage, and then shifts his bulk over the worn velvet seat to peer out the small window. He can barely make out a crowd through the dirty glass, and with a scowl he pounds on the ceiling once more.
"Move this damn carriage, or I shall begin charging you by the minute, do you hear me?"
Nothing.
"Should never have sold my own method of conveyance," he mutters, taking up his satchel and roping its strap over his head. "Never had let Simmons go, either. Or any of my servants. And horses. Where does one buy horses these days? Dignity. A question of dignity. Pomp and. Hrmmph."
He opens the door and lets himself down, doubting that the cad who's driving the rented carriage would even remember to hop down and set out the steps. He adjusts his spectacles, smooths down his waistcoat, and then peers around the square.
"Now. Where are we?" He sees a towering edifice and frowns. "The Grand Vault of Abadar? It will suffice." That decided, he begins to forge his way through the loose crowd, thwacking at people's knees and shins as he goes, hunched over and bulling his way through.
"Out of the way, out of the way," he grumbles, but as the press grows thicker he hears the cries and screams up ahead and stops again, raising his head and trying to see what's taking place on the Vault's steps.
"What's this?" Nobody answers, and those he turns to are too busy shoving and yelling to pay him any mind. Somebody barges into him from behind, knocking him forward a few steps, and he wheels around, the glyphs of a terrible spell appearing in his mind before he realizes his assailant is already gone.
"Anarchy? Bedlam? Could this city sink any further, I ask you?" The crowd only grows thicker and more violent up ahead, and as someone elbows him in the side Lord Blackoak's patience finally snaps.
"Cease this bestial behavior, you callow and bovine wretches! Enough!" His bellow is stentorian, a booming bass that comes from deep within his barrel chest. "Do you wish to be apprehended for civil unrest and clapped in irons? Enough!"
He strides forward, thrusting his way with surprising vigor into the heart of the heaving crowd, and sees a priest being assaulted right before the entrance to the church. It's too much to countenance.
"Animals! All of you!"
Face darkening in anger, he spreads his hands and, even as he's jostled, murmurs an unintelligible phrase.
From his fingers swims forth a kaleidoscope of mesmerizing colors, psychedelic and bemusing, issuing like an iridescent oil slick across water. It undulates over the heads of the crowd, and Lord Blackoak directs it at the priest's assailants.
”And a doctor!” A old woman grasps Pietro’s sleeve. ”Please sir, my husband is dying, lying in the street just there, won’t you at least look at him?”
Pietro is torn with so many people needing help but he well knew that he alone was not going to stop this, not by taking care of people one at a time.
Swallowing hard to contain the urge to just go and help the old man just this once, he politely passes through the lady and tries to catch up with Garvid. The crowds were parting for the big man and Pietro tried to follow in his wake.
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Li spots an opportunity and, taking a running start, slides feet-first back into the mob. She takes the feet out from under several hecklers and sends them tumbling to the ground like so many bowling pins. Garvid, having lost his temper, storms forward like a summer thunderhead in her wake. Mouse sees him coming and, with a worried expression, tries to talk some sense into the crowd. Those accosting Ishani pay her no heed. Garvid is on them in an instant.
It is said that desperate men are mad men. And surely that must be true, for the infected citizens of Korvosa, faced with the prospect of an unknown sickness and, perhaps, death, do not flee. The fear in them now is for their very lives, and it is seems that threats of pain or violence do not frighten them as they should. On the contrary, these men and women have seized a priest of Abadar, one of the very few in the city vested with the power to save their lives. As Garvid threatens to separate them from their savior, it is not fear that clutches their hearts like a vice.
It is rage.
Around him, those not lucky enough to lay hands on the cleric turn instead to him. ”And who’s he fink he is??....Some tough guy with a blade ‘ere to lay claim to the only healer on the street?...Wants him for himself….Don’t let ‘im!” Rocks suddenly appear in hands as snarls of rage curl across blister-rashed faces.
A rolling, blinding wave of color flashes across the mob. Screams and groans rise but are cut short as a sort of static electricity hovers in the air. You can feel the hair on the back of your neck raised. Around you, most of your assailants lie unconscious. Those who have not succumbed back away slowly, still clinging to their stones. Blinking, you realize that you have been sparred, and it takes only a moment to pinpoint the source of the magic. ”It’s a wizard...from the Acadamae!...No a Hellknight Signif…”
”Hurry, come on! You too!” Ishani is on his feet and motions to the lot of you, including Talfryn, as he stumbles up the steps and toward the doors to the temple. The door guards look on with concerned confusion, but do not hesitate to let a member of their own clergy pass. ”These are with me...urgent business...inside...” Ishani pants breathlessly as he runs. The golden, key-emblazoned shields part, allowing you access to the great double doors and the gilded antechamber beyond. Behind you, yells and screams of frustration and despair ring out, cut off as Ishani slams the enormous doors. Breathless, he turns to you with fear-filled eyes and a blood-smeared face. ”It’s...worse...than…” His thought is never finished, for his eyes roll back in his head and he slides to the floor, unconscious.
Lord Tralfryn strides up the steps after the priest, huffing and trying to not look like he's fleeing the scene. His staff taps on each step, and he uses it like hook, hauling himself up with both hands after it before moving it to the next step. When he gains the top he turns, mustache bristling, and glares at the crowd, raking them with his gaze before shaking his staff at them and following the others inside.
When the massive doors swing closed behind them, he takes a moment to smooth down his rumpled suit and gaze at the others with a wary eye.
He's a large man, Lord Tralfyn Blackoak, but broader than he is tall; his back hunches up over his head, giving his chest a surprising depth even as it causes his arms to look as if they're over long. His clothing hints at his being nobility, though the cut and fashion is decades out of style, while the hems of his sleeves are darkened by ink and broad patches of his coat lightened by smudges of chalk.
Adjusting his fine satchel, he stares down at the fallen priest, eyebrow arching in displeasure, and then gazes around the rest of the group with steely annoyance.
"What the devil is going on here?" His voice is as cultured as it is indignant, and he looks beyond their group to see if any of Abadar's faithful are rushing to attend them - surely they must have noted his arrival - and then tugs on the lapel of his coat before examining the party once more, gaze leaping from member to member as he seeks the leader of this ragtag group.
Happy to be inside and not have to make another choice that may haunt his nights, Pietro is quick to acknowledge the noble man.
He was going to extend his hand but decided against it given the current circumstances, "Dr. Bartori. Did you ...? Was it you that cast that spell? Did you... kill them? You know they are here because they are desperate."
"That be escalatin' quickly," Li mutters. Her heart is still racing after their close encounter with the mob. She'd never experienced anything like it before.
Then she notices that they have a new face in their midst. "If'n we be knowin' what be goin' on, we be happy ta be tellin' ya. Even if'n we don't be knowin' ya."
Since no one seems to be doing anything about Ishani's collapse she asks, "Shouldn't someone be helpin' him? He needs ta be ok 'cause he be tha one ta help Grau's niece."
"Lord Talfryn Blackoak," says the burly man, accompanying his name with a stamp and click of his heel. "And yes, that spell was my doing. Color Spray, it's called, and no, I didn't kill anybody, Dr. Bartori. Merely stunned them into a state of appropriate submission." He hesitates, chewing on underside of his mustache, and then gives a curt nod. "I, too, am desperate. Hence my sojourn here. A good friend of mine has fallen ill with this despicable red rash. It would seem he is not the only one in need of healing. Has this priest here been able to cure it?"
When Li mentions the fallen priest, Lord Talfryn looks almost impatient. "We're within the Grand Vault of Abadar itself, my dear. Surely they will take care of their own?"
Despite his gruff tone, Lord Talfryn looks around the Vault once more, searching again for signs of assistance. His hand, almost of its own accord, strays within his coat, where those watching catch a glimpse of several potions filled with a light blue liquid affixed to a sturdy leather bandolier.
"It be Li, not dear...me name. Thanks fer helpin' back there. And I wouldn't be so sure. So far, whatever this be is confusin' a lot of people an' scarin' most."
Turning to Pietro and Yazi she asks, "Is Ishani bein' sick too or just bein' overcome by tha situation?"
As they got caught up in the crowd, Yaziyah could feel Slinky trembling next to her skin, nestled inside her shirt. The poor animal was overwhelmed by the scents of fear and desperation swirling thickly around them. Although she does not let it show, the Shoanti woman is also scared; by the looks of it, the epidemic has only just begun and she dreads the descent into chaos and death that will surely follow.
As they finally make their way inside, she kneels by Ishani's side as she tries to rouse the priest. The poor young man had been roughly handled by the crowd, so she checks him over for injuries, barely paying any mind to the stranger in their midst. One phrase catches her attention, though, and she glares at the nobleman. "Appropriate submission?" she hisses. "Because in this rotten city those like you get all they want and damn all the rest, no? Let them die in the streets if they cannot afford to live." She is tense with anger and emotion as she continues to tend to the priest, stopping every now and then to shoot disapproving looks to Lord Talfryn and the cathedral of Abadar.
Lord Talfryn stands mute for a moment as he stares down at Yaziyah, almost as if she had just spoken a different language altogether. Then he draws himself up as best his crooked back allows and stares down his broad nose at where she kneels.
"My good woman, any crowd of ne'er-do-wells deserves to be put in their place if they have the gall - nay, the temerity - to assault an innocent priest in such manner."
He hurrumphs his mustache as he glares right back at her. "Bedlam and violence are not to be tolerated. Unless you are a devotee of Lamashtu?"
Instead of getting angrier, the Shoanti woman throws back her head and laughs. "Lamashtu, indeed! Oh, you poor clueless man." Waving him away dismissively, she returns to her ministrations of Ishani, still chuckling to herself now and then. Freed from the confines of her shirt, Slinky the weasel runs around in maddened circles and loops, climbing up everyone in sight and sniffing everything frantically. Lord Talfryn's spat with its mistress is rewarded with a sharp nip on the cuff of his trousers and some very angry-sounding chirping.
Another Lord, huh. Well, last one didn't turn out so bad., Garvid thinks, before extending a massive paw to the new arrival. "Garvid Krein.", he says laconically, as a small smile appears on his face as the situation unfolds. He scratches his head, not sure of how to proceed. He decides to cross his arms in a non-threatening manner. "I'm a peacekeeper myself, lordship, but you might've gone a bit too hard there. I know an arbiter or two that can claim you and I did the exact same thing they wanted to do, but they lacked the power." He sends an almost taunting smirk in the lord's direction, which passes into a smile later. "Though, what's done is done. If you hadn't done that, I might've had to break a couple of noses." He shrugs. "No point in discussing that now."
"Still, can't help but agree the church should do more. I was blessed in this exact temple after I was born, even got the receipt somewhere in my house... Not that praying helped me move out of the damn place for a decade of hard work.", he mutters. Hmmm... What if someone suggested to the queen to pay the temple of Abadar to heal the sick? Would help with the sick, and the riots. Let the people think better of her, too.
He stores those thoughts for the time being, and turns towards Lord Talfryn. "Now that's a name we've been hearing a lot lately...", he mentions with a scrutinising glare. "There might be someone rich funding a cult of her in or around town. That's why we and the poor sob,", he points towards the cleric, "were rushing to get here, to let the High Priests know."
Lord Talfryn's face darkens at Yaziyah's last words, but then Garvid steps forth and provides him with a welcome distraction. He arches an eyebrow and regards Garvid's hand before shaking it, seeming to do so more by reflex than any real desire to be pleasant. That done, he clasps his staff once more, and steadfastly refuses to acknowledge the chittering ferret.
"A peacekeeper? Good. It's obvious we need more of your kind out on the streets. Deplorable, their condition. As for going too hard?" He harrumphs again. "Let us just say I don't feel much cause to be lenient with rioters. But agreed. The past is past."
Garvid's last revelation clearly takes Lord Talfyrn aback. Both eyebrows rise, and then are promptly lowered as he scowls. "You're quite serious? A cult of Lamashtu? Funded by the nobility? That is a serious charge, good sir. And if it's true..." He pauses, rubbing at his bare chin, face scrunched in thought.
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You do recall that the new seneschal of Castle Korvosa, assigned to replace the missing Neolandus Kalepopolis, is one Togomor. A bloatmage from Kaer Maga, the selection was surprising consider the number of qualified wizards at the Acadamae. He is a bit of a mystery, as he has made no public appearance since accepting the appointment.
Worship of Lamashtu, though, is a hazardous practice within the city walls. Lamashtu’s faith is one of only a few not recognized at the Pantheon of the Many, and certainly there is no official church for the Demon Queen. What lies beyond the city walls may be another matter, entirely. The hinterlands of Korvosa are known to be inhabited by ogres, gnolls, goblins, and other creatures that are prone to deformity. There, who can say what dark faiths are practiced within the wilds of Varisia.
A few slaps to Ishani’s face is all it takes for Yazi to revive him. ”Gah! No!” he tenses, startled, as he sees her face. ”Oh, it’s you. Sorry, I--” he draws himself up to a seated position with his back to the door.
”What. Is. The. Meaning. Of This?!” A stout dwarven woman lumbers down the massive entry hall, white skirts raised above her ankles. With each step a staccato syllable emerges. Behind her, other patrons have turned to stare, but politely alter their gaze and go on with their business. Arriving at Ishani’s side, her head doesn’t rise much higher than his, even seated as he is. She places her hands on her hips and looks at him sternly. ”Ishani Dhatri, what have you done to yourself? What would compel to traipse into this holy place like a common workhand at supper?”
”Theodra, I’m sorry. The mob outside, the sick--the sickness! It’s getting worse.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. ”I’ve brought others, they have witnessed it too. Come, we must speak privately!” He pushes himself to his feet, stumbling slightly as he hurries down the hall, inviting more looks, more whispers.
”Speak privately?!” Theodra follows, aghast. ”With these people? About what? Dressed as you are? Oh, the Archbanker will have your key for this!” She continues to mutter threats, but follows quickly behind, clearly quite curious.
Even if its inner halls are secure, the Bank of Abadar remains a place besieged. Within its airy halls, priests and patrons eye each other and every newcomer with suspicion, and every footfall upon the marble floor echoes through a frightened silence. Ishani escorts you into one of the temple’s western meeting rooms, sliding into the nearest chair. Theodra deftly hops in just before the door closes, hands clasped tensely at her belt. Ishani turns to the rest of you.
“Thank you for your aid. I assume you already suspect my reasons for calling, having seen the crowd outside.” He shakes his head sadly. “Poor lot. You recognize the symptoms too, I’m sure. I had hoped that the Soldado case was isolated, but apparently we have a bigger problem on our hands than I’d feared. Theodra, these citizens have seen evidence of Lamashtu’s worship in the Hinterlands. This does not bode well!
”Lamashtu?” she hisses with concern. ”By His Holy Hand, why didn’t you say so in the first place? The Demon Queen’s influence is known to exist in the wilderness and among the untamed, but no in a place of civilization! Do you believe this influence has entered the city, and that it is linked to the illnesses?”
“I’m concerned for the city, but also for my brethren here,” Ishani continues. ”The morning after my first visit to the Soldado home, I came to the temple to hear that three of my brothers awoke with similar symptoms, although they had already been healed. I spoke to each, and aside from their usual duties in the temple, none have had any dealings with any who are ill. Later in the day, more of my fellow priests—acolytes, guards, vaultkeepers— developed symptoms, and folk from throughout the city began arriving in search of healing. It’s been more than a little bit frightening. They’re calling the sickness ‘blood veil’—an apt enough name, I suppose.
“Most of the patients we’re treating have come from North Point and Old Korvosa. The disease seems to spread fastest through the lower classes. Although we here at the temple can heal some of the ill, I dread that the transmission of the disease will soon outpace our resources. The only way to stem the growing infection is to involve the entire city. We need to organize. We need to call upon the faiths of Sarenrae, Pharasma, and even Asmodeus to face this attack. Archbanker Tuttle and several of his assistants are out pursuing alliances with these other faiths--”
”What?!” Theodra interjects. ”How d’you--?”
”But even that won’t be enough,” Ishani plows ahead. ”We need to involve the Korvosan Guard and the queen’s new agents, the Gray Maidens, at the very least. That’s where you come in. With the number of desperate souls growing, it’s not particularly safe for a priest to walk the streets of Korvosa. I understand you have a good relationship with Field Marshal Cressida Kroft. Perhaps you would be willing to escort me to Citadel Volshyenek for an introduction?”
”Well...” Theodra tuts, suddenly changing her tune. ”We wouldn’t expect your involvement to be charity. We’ll arrange fair compensation from the Vault.”
Lord Talfyrn stands at the back of the room, frowning pensively and staring down at the ground as he listens, brows drawing ever closer as the scope of the danger they face is made clear. Those closest to him might hear him muttering beneath his breath:
"Hmm... religious zealots... powerful release of necromantic energy... Togomor? Worth investigating. Hmmph.
When Ishani makes his request, he looks up sharply and glances around at the rest of the party, noting their reactions, and then speaks first as is the right of a lord.
"I have the dubious honor of being acquainted with a number of powerful individuals within Korvosa. Wizards, mostly, but a fair smattering of priests. I would be willing, as a loyal citizen, to reach out to these contacts of mine and urge them to take this matter with the utmost gravity."
He chews at some fleck within his mouth as he ponders further. "I cannot say I am familiar with the new Field Marshal, but I would be willing, as a gentleman and a scholar, to lend my aid in escorting you into her presence." He inclines his head as if acknowledging the nobility of his self-sacrifice.
Garvid can't help but chuckle as he's once again reminded of the Abadarian titles. Archbanker. Never gets old.
He clears his throat, then looks at Theodra. "We don't have evidence. We do, however, have leads. Weapons and armour of fine make, some of them even magical, with the signs of Lamashtu on them, as verified by our own." He stands up, then crosses his arms as he turns towards Ishani. "So you did know something else about it, didn't you...", he mentions, his tone turning skeptical. "At the very least, thanks for bringing us here."
He crosses his arms, running a hand across his unshaven face. "Well. Imagine how surprised the Field Marshal will be to see us. Somewhere between 'slightly' and 'not at all'." He smirks grimly. "We'll get you an audience and an introduction, don't worry." He seems to have a good head on his shoulders. That's a given for an Abadarian, but the desire to help people free of charge is... different. Seems a good man.
As compensation is mentioned, Garvid chuckles. "Well, payment. I'd be willing to go pro bono, as long as your church tends to the poor sick. And do send someone for the poor Soldado kid, as soon as possible." He grins. "Put it on my account."
"What or who's a togomor?", he asks suddently, turning towards Talfryn. "I hate to eavesdrop, but the combination of words you used there caught my attention.", he adds with a smile. "We're always looking for some extra help. You'd be surprised how much this town tries to ruin itself."
"Hmm?" For a moment it's clear Lord Talfryn has absolutely no idea what Garvid is speaking about. He scrutinizes the man, completely mystified, and then the sun peaks from behind the clouds.
"Togomor. As in, the bloat mage from Kaer Maga. New seneschal of Castle Korvosa. Replaced the young Neolandus Kalepopolis when he disappeared." Talfryn hesitates. "I suppose Neolandus stopped being young a few decades ago. But yes. Togomor comes to mind as a potential avenue of inquiry. The timing of his arrival and the subsequent calamities that have ensued - combined with his abhorrent predilection for consuming his own body for power - makes him a prime suspect in my mind for this Lamashtu investigation."
Talfryn links his hands behind his back, the shoulders of his tan coat straining, and juts out his lower lip, nodding once or twice as if in agreement with himself.
Pietro listened attentively and tried to figure out a way where he and his acquaintances in the medical field can fit in.
"I'll add my knowledge and contacts and make sure people in the medical field take this as seriously as it deserves."
He turned to ishanti, "You can count me in for whatever you need."
Mouse had stayed quiet when the nobleman appeared, focusing instead on making sure everyone made it into the Vault in one piece (and, hopefully, uninfected with this "blood veil"). When they'd made it in, she'd chosen to stay near the group's rear, intimidated by the gilt and the frescoes and the immaculate upholstery of the temple. (And intimidated not a little bit by this Lord Talfryn - she'd only just grown accustomed to Cal, after all, and this one seemed much closer to her preconceived notions of the upper classes than the performer had been.)
But the dwarven woman's repeated complaints about Ishani's manner of dress, her own disheveled state, the hubbub outside - Mouse's blood begins to quietly boil at the litany, especially when the temple's clean-swept floors seem to rank higher than her own priest nearly being killed. And at the priestess's kindly-meant offer, she can't bite back a remark any longer.
No, o' course you wou'n't 'spect us t' be chari'able, she remarks, withdrawing to the room's edge. Surprised y' even know th' word - sure clear 'nough y' ain't never been it once in y'r life. Folks're dyin', an' all you c'n worry 'bout's gettin' paid an' keepin' y'r gold key polished. She gives a short, curt bow to the room. Well, wou'n't want y'r fine things t' git soiled by th' likes o' me. Lemme know when we're ready t' take Mr. Ishani t' th' Citadel - I'm ready t' do somethin' t' truly 'elp, leastways. Like Mr. Garvid said...y' got my bit o' pay t' heal a few o' th' sick, if workin' f'r pay's all you c'n manage.
The rogue is relieved when Ishani comes to. The beginnings of a plague that is settling on Korvosa begins to sink in and it results in a hard knot of dread that settles in Li's stomach. Lamm was a foe that she could deal with but political intrigue and now sickness were out of her depth.
She listens to the conversation between Ishani and Theodra. Why's it always bein' tha poor that be sufferin' tha most? Even though she would always welcome something shiny to add to her own stash, she nods in agreement with Mouse and Garvid. "Me compensation be tha helpin' an' healin' of Brienna an' anyone else in tha house that be needin' it."
Li couldn't help but think back to their last conversation with the Field Marshal. "Do we even be knowin' if tha Field Marshal still be at tha Citadel?"
The Shoanti woman waves a hand at Theodra. "My friends have already said all that was needed to be said." She gives Mouse an appreciative nod and squeezes her shoulder. The girl was becoming more outspoken by the day, which was good to see. She was obviously talented and smart, it wasn't right that other people treat her and those like her badly just because of their less fortunate circumstances. And who was this nob, looking down his nose at the poor and the desperate?
Turning to Lord Talfryn, she measures him from head to toe, her gaze scrutinising. She mutters to herself "What is with the noble types and the pursuit of the arcane...? Must be all that free time they have to spend buried in books." She snorts, then motions him to follow as she turns to leave the room. "Very well then, come along. We'll see where the Marshal is at and I'll drop word with my people, we have a few shamans who can, and will, be helping the sick. Free of charge, I'm sure." She spares a last withering glare to Theodra and strides out of the room, her long legs easily eating away the length of the corridors in the temple of Abadar.
Lord Talfryn's features stiffen as Yaziyah beckons for him to follow as if he were a servant about to be given a tour of the premises by the head housekeeper. Still, the irritation lasts but a moment; uncouth people will be uncouth, that is their determining characteristic after all, and one shouldn't be surprised when they act true to their nature.
Turning to Theodora, he draws a rather battered card from his satchel and sets it on the broad table.
"My information," he rumbles. "You may direct all future inquiries, requests, and payments to my address."
He smooths down his rumpled coat, shoots out his cuffs, adjusts his spectacles and then pats his satchel. All is in place, all is ready, and he is prepared for this 'little adventure'.
"Incidentally," he says as he turns to leave, "A good friend of mine has come down with this blood veil. I will direct him to preset himself here for healing. Good day."
That said, he exits the chamber, fingers tapping at the vials, potions, and scrolls he has secreted about his person. He looks to Garvid as they walk. "Mr. Krein. Would you be so good as to tell me more about these leads you mentioned? The weapons and armor of Lamashtu? How did you come by them?"
"So you did know something else about it, didn't you?"
Ishani raises his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Yes, yes I've known for a few days now. But I couldn't let onto that outside these walls. As you can see, people are already panicking. I would only have made it worse had I disclosed the full extent of things back in Trail's End. And I shall return to them tomorrow, you have my word on that!"
He claps his hand gratefully when you agree to an escort.
"Folks're dyin', an' all you c'n worry 'bout's gettin' paid an' keepin' y'r gold key polished."
Theodra balks, clearly shocked to be addressed this way. "Well, young lady, I don't know who you think you are, or whether you've forgotten where you're standing but, but..." She sputters and clutches her shiny, polished key as her cheeks burn bright red. "But there are protocols and procedures to be followed, a clearly demarcated chain of authority up which we must climb. It would be highly inappropriate to throw these hallmarks of civility and order out the window like last night's contents of a chamber pot! I--I..." She looks to Ishani for help, but he merely looks on with a disappointed expression.
"Oh, fine! Fine! We'll do it your way, Ishani. But if word gets out, I never agreed to anything...unscrupulous.”
She plucks Talfryn’s card from the table, nodding. ”Payment, yes, someone who speaks a principled tongue. Let it never be said the Church of Abadar does not compensate those who lend it aid.” She shoots a quick look toward Mouse. ”I shall arrange delivery within two days.” She tucks the card into a pocket and shuffles out behind Yazi, her footfalls echoing off the marble walls.
Not knowing much about the gods, after all they didn't seem to pay her much attention, Li asks Ishani a question. "Is it bein' possible fer ya ta be changin' before we go?" She stammered a bit thinking that she may be insulting him somehow as her ignorance shows. "I mean, do ya be needin' yer robes ta be channelin' Abadar? If'n ya don't, we may be havin' a better time gettin' ya through Korvosa if'n the people don't be recognizin' ya as a cleric."
Pietro was quick to accept payment, "I'm sure we can put the money to good use to save the town."
In the meantime, Pietro scoured his brain to try and remember anything about a disease such as this one.
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"Is it bein' possible fer ya ta be changin' before we go?"”
Ishani’s eyebrows rise as though this idea were brand new to him, but sighs and slowly shakes his head. ”No, I would not shed the raiments of the faith. Theodra is correct, you know, I’ve jeopardized myself already by taking the actions I have, and the actions I plan to take now.” His eyes gleam mischievously, then. ”But a simple traveling cloak might do the trick, hmm?”
Any chance to do some research on the sickness?
”Oh, by His Key, I should hope you’re able to put your mind to task on this. Bless you! But first, please get me to the Commander Kroft. Mobilizing the military as soon as possible seems the most urgent matter in my mind. Except...except I believe we have a record of the first reported cases. I’ll fetch that for you before we go.”
The walk from North Point surprisingly poses little problem. Ishani is a clever man, and anytime you approach a crowded section of the street, he begins to hobble and hunch over, his torn clerical robes fairly concealed beneath his billowing cloak. Few pay you any mind. Although many in the city are attempting to conduct life as normal, whispers and quiet conversations have already replaced the raucous chatter of any normal business day, as if noise might attract the plague’s lethal notice.
The guards at the gate greet you warmly. ”Oi, Garvid! Nice to see yoo back ‘ere after all! Brought yoor friends, I see! Ladies. Gents. Are yoo lookin’ to catch de Field Marshall? Best ‘urry, yoo’ll need t’catch the doctors in the courtyard.”
Perplexed, you enter the Citadel. The echoes of forcefully spoken but unintelligible words resound off the imposing granite and iron walls of Citadel Volshyenek’s outer curtain. Dozens of red-and-silver armored Guard officers stand in assembly upon the pitted stone mustering ground here, muttering in hushed, somber tones. Before them, atop a weathered wooden platform, paces Field Marshal Kroft, her eyebrows arched sternly as she momentarily tolerates the crowd’s murmurs. Behind her upon the scaffold stand three grizzled veteran guards at attention, as well as an ominous-looking group. These newcomers wear cowled robes of oily-looking leather, supple gloves, and wide black hats. Some grip heavy canes, others dark satchels. Each of them, though, wears a dark-goggled mask tapering to a pointed beak. Among them stand two others. The first is a middle-aged gentleman in a simple black overcoat with streaks of white gracing the sides of his short, dark hair. He watches the gathered guards with a soft, concerned expression, his hands tightly clasping a heavylooking doctor’s case. The second figure is an imposing one indeed—one of the queen’s new Gray Maidens, clad in her resplendent plate armor and crimson plume.
The Field Marshal’s fierce tone cuts through the rumble of whispers as she addresses her gathered guards. “You will escort Doctor Davaulus and his physicians in their royal duties wherever those might take them. Furthermore, you are to consider orders from any of the queen’s Gray Maidens to be as binding as those of any superior officer in the Korvosan Guard. You are the Korvosan Guard. You will not balk. These are dire times, and your city needs these healers. Your city needs you. Your patrol leaders have your assignments. Dismissed!”
As the assembly ends, the guards gathered in the courtyard break up into groups, many reporting for various duties while others loiter for a few moments to quietly gripe about their new orders. Kroft and her veteran attendants turn to head into the citadel with Dr. Davaulus and his “physicians,” but does a double take as she notices you. Her face breaks into a wide smile, and she signals to one of her aides who then comes to fetch you.
”Well, if this isn’t a sight for sore eyes!” she exclaims cheerily, but then abruptly coughs and adopts a more serious tone. "But where is Lord Fordyce?"
”Anyway, I’m certain you’re here about this accursed fever. Word travels fast. It was only brought to my attention this morning. But the crown moves faster, it seems. I’m most pleased to introduce you to Doctor Reiner Davaulus, head of Castle Korvosa’s efforts to combat this “blood veil” and leader of the Queen’s Physicians.”
Dr. Devaulus seems a calm man with a polite demeanor and deeply analytical mind. ”It is certainly my pleasure to meet friends of the Field Marshall. Friends of the city are friends of mine, as well. I’d be happy to answer any of your questions. I do hope to ease the concerns of as many of Korvosa’s people as possible during this most trying time.”
Yaziyah strides forward to meet the marshal, quickly spotting the undercurrents of her entourage. She could not blame Kressida, the masked physicians had a certain creepy quality to them. She begrudgingly acknowledges the queen's swift response; now they would have to see how effective it would prove.
"Well met, Marshal. Doctor, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am called Yaziyah." She nods politely to Doctor Davaulus. "You have guessed correctly, we are here as ... concerned citizens. Have you had much success in discerning any information about the disease? Otherwise, we are in dire straits if even the illustrious Royal Physician cannot solve this conundrum. But I am sure this is not the case." She gives Davaulus an enchanting smile and a curtsy, while internally she can barely keep herself from bursting into laughter. Spirits, I sound like Calcedon! Or at least, I hope I do. If I read the Marshal right, a delicate touch is needed here.
Lord Talfryn does not complain as the company moves swiftly through the streets of the city. He does, however, labor to keep pace; using his walking stick to great effect, he strides after the party at the rear, breathing in short blasts through his broad nostrils and waving aside any questions that are directed at him.
By the time they reach the Marshal his brow is beaded with sweat. As such, he takes a moment to remain once more at the rear, mopping at his face with a handkerchief, and taking his time to inspect the grounds and its varied occupants, eyes narrowed as he tries to absorb the import of all that is around them.
Much is afoot. There is much that he doesn't understand. From the doctors to the Gray Maidens to the Marshal's apparent familiarity with the group he's traveling with.
As such, he decides to remain discreet, and though he does raise an eyebrow at Yaziyah's flattery, he bides his time for now.
Instead, he casts Detect Thoughts, waiting as the seconds pass by and he gains a greater sense of what is taking place around him. First he focuses on the Gray Maiden, intrigued by her aura of menace and the fact that she's liable to head out soonest, and then turns her attention to the Marshal and Devalus.
It's not hard for Mouse to pick up Cressida's tension and unease - it pervades her own senses as well. S'pose th' masks do some kind o' somethin' f'r them...but they ain't much gon' help 'em wit' bedside manner... Greeting Cressida mutely with a nod, the young half-elf elects to let Yaziyah do the bulk of the speaking, placing herself between the conversation and the gate in case of any surprises. It was unlikely, in the midst of such a gathering of the Guard...but there was always a chance, especially if someone feeling desperate had heard this many doctors were coming together.
Li thinks it odd that the Field Marshal refers to Cal as Lord Fordyce which alerts her to the fact that Cressida wasn't at ease since she fell into more formal speak. "Lord Fordyce is bein' at his manor. He be sendin' his regrets but he needs ta be keepin' things runnin' smoothly there."
The rogue tries to keep her eyes from wandering back to the doctors in their unnerving masks. I be thinkin' that doctors suppos'd ta be calmin' fer their patients. There ain't nothin' comfortin' about those masks."
"Mr. Krein. Would you be so good as to tell me more about these leads you mentioned? The weapons and armor of Lamashtu? How did you come by them?"
A smile spreads on Garvid's face. "We were out of town recently, and we came across a couple of ogres. Had a bit of a heated discussion, though our arguments were substantially more convincing." He pats his halberd, spotting a miniscule fleck of dried blood on the blade. "Had the same run in with a band of gnolls, too, and they all wore armour and weapons of the sort. Which we received after a polite request, obviously." He grins wolfishly.
-----------------------------
Waving at the guard at the gate, Garvid shakes his head. "Turns out, harder I try to stay away from this place, the more I have to come here. Never spent so much time in the citadel back when I was working here, even." He scratches his head. "Better get in there then, before another crisis starts."
Garvid takes a long look at the retinue, his eyes remaining on the Gray Maiden for longer than appropriate. So they're senior officers now? Who the hell are these women? He sends a polite nod at Cressida. "Field Marshal. Always a pleasure.", he responds in a needlessly official tone, hinting at the unusual situation. "I'm afraid Lord Fordyce is indisposed, sadly. Actually, we're here to help, and we brought someone who can." He points at Ishani. "This is Ishani Dhatri of the Church of Abadar. He's been personally treating some of the injured, and wanted to make your acquantance. There's been some pretty convincing evidence about where the disease is coming from, and that it's supernatural, and the Church wanted our and your involvement on the matter." He clears his throat. "That's right, right, Ishani?", he looks at the newcomer. "Pleased to meet you too, Doctor." He looks at the man. Now, if he's sent by the queen, I'll be pardoned some doubt. I might be jumping onto conclusions, but if the new Seneschal's behind this, I'd doubt her doctor is going to try and cure it.
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Dr. Devaulus chuckles at Yazi's introduction. "Indeed, I couldn't help but note your manner of dress. Are you Shoanti? A true Shoanti medicine woman. I am delighted, truly! Ah yes, the disease. I'm afraid I haven't much to report at this time. We've only just assembled our research team and information is yet scarce. But, as we speak, teams of Gray Maidens and our physicians, aided by the able Korvosan Guard, are out pounding the streets, interviewing those who have been infected and drawing up reports for our review."
"As for me, I served Queen Ileosa's family in Egorian for many years. When she contacted me just yesterday, begging for assistance on her city's behalf, well, how could I refuse? I think it truly remarkable how the Queen has donned the robes of stewardship, and at such a young age! Truly, she loves this city and its people. And so, after accepting her gracious offer of magical transport to the city, I've spent the past twenty-four hours assembling a group of the city's most talented healers to help stem the tide of the spreading plague."
"The masks are of my own design, crafted with such unusually long beaks in order to increase the surface area of the internal filtration system and provide increased protection against airborn pathogens. The men behind them, well..." He motions behind him to the cadre of physicians, turning to call on the tallest among them and gesturing him over. "Bredeken! Yes, come here, please. Good. Now, Bredeken, I was just introducing myself and our work to these upstanding citizens. Won't you introduce yourself to them?" The tall man behind the mask grips the long beak of his mask, lifting it up to his forehead to reveal his face. He is, indeed, human. And quite handsome, were it not for some missing teeth. "Allo, ladies'n'gents. M'name's Bredeken, outta Palin's Cove. Pleased t'make yoor acquaintance!" Bredeken gives a little bow before lowering his mask back into place. Dr. Devaulus nods and smiles graciously.
Cressida takes a moment to acknowledge both new faces--Ishani and Talfryn. "Quite pleased to make your acquaintances. Lord Talfryn, I have heard your name spoken at many social functions and I must say it is an honor to finally meet you."
"Y-yes!" Ishani agrees with Garvid a bit nervously. "I have seen much these past days, Field Marshal, and I have much to tell..." At Ishani's introduction, Cressida claps her gloved hands together. "Wonderful!" she exclaims. "We were just about to sit down with Dr. Devaulus and draw up a plan of action. As a representative of the Abadaran priesthood, perhaps you would be inclinded to sit in on this meeting? Your perspective would be most valuable, and would enable us to implement the Grand Vault's assistance in a much more practical manner." Cressida extends her hand in a gentlemanly-like fashion, looking to Ishani as an equal.
"Oh, well, well that would be wonderful, yes!" he replies.
Lord Talfryn steps forward, and gives Cressida a tight nod. "Field Marshal Cressida, you surprise me. I would have thought my name forgotten by polite society many decades ago. Hrmph. But I have been roused from Brockhaven by the advent of this pernicious disease, and have fallen in, as it were, with these men and women that you seem to know well."
He pauses, as if he were at the head of a table, glass raised to a toast, gathering his wits for his final salvo before clinking glasses and sitting down.
"As such, please know that I and my resources, meager as they may be, are at yours and the Queen's disposal in this matter." He seems to be about to carry on, but then raises an eyebrow and looks around as if noting that they are standing in the open with almost a dozen people politely - or not so politely - waiting for him to finish. He coughs into his fist, gives a polite nod, and steps back.
Lord Talfryn ponders the faces and names he's encountering - are any of them familiar?
Originally a ranking member of the Guard who moonlighted as an adventurer, Cressida Kroft foiled a deadly plot during the weeks-long festivities celebrating the city’s third centennial in 4707 ar. When she stopped a small group of Norgorber cultists poisoning the food of a grand feast to be held in Eodred’s Square, she not only saved the lives of hundreds, but drove the cult of Norgorber from Korvosa entirely. Cressida’s star rose high among Korvosa’s common folk and elite alike, and she was swiftly appointed to the position of Field Marshal—leader of the Korvosan Guard—by King Eodred. She has since pledged her loyalty, and that of her soldiers, to Queen Ileosa.
Dr. Davaulus, on the other hand, is an entirely unknown element. Until today, you've never encountered the Egorian's name.
Lord Talfryn chooses his moment carefully so that he may whisper a question to the priest. "When, pray tell, was the first case of Blood Veil noticed or reported? How long as this disease been at large?"
”Well then, if there’s nothing further, I believe we have many matters to discuss, don’t we Field Marshal? The hour is drawing late and I fear we will keep the candles burning through the night. And oh, I’d nearly forgotten...” Dr. Davaulus reaches into his black bag and withdraws a folded parchment slip, which he hands to Yaziyah. ”While the details of our operation are, as yet, indeterminate, the crown has authorized the issuance of this public announcement. You’ll see them all over Korvosa by morning, so there’s no harm in giving you this information ahead of time.”
To aid in the duties of the Queen’s Physicians, know that the Order of the Gray Maidens shall also provide military support as needed. The Maidens answer directly to the Crimson Throne, and will be called upon as necessary to augment and strengthen the peace where city guards will not suffice.
Oyez, It is Declared that Impeding or distracting the Queen’s Physicians or the Gray Maidens in the pursuit of their duties is punishable by imprisonment.
Oyez, It is Declared that Impersonating one of the Queen’s Physicians or Gray Maidens is punishable by death.
Oyez, It is Declared that Knowingly harboring or hiding the infected is punishable by death.
Oyez, It is Declared that Purposefully spreading blood veil is punishable by torture, then death.
The Queen’s Physicians will be making rounds of every city district henceforth until her majesty deems this misfortune has abated.
He gives a perfectly-practiced bow to you all. ”Truly a pleasure. It is most reassuring to know Korvosa and her queen have such impressive citizens supporting them in their hour of need. I bid you good evening.” Dr. Davalous turns, medical bag still clutched firmly in his hand, and strides brisquely inside the citadel.
Cressida lingers just a moment, prepared to issue her own goodbyes.
While the others read the writ, Lord Talfryn moves to intercept the good doctor before he's taken more than a half dozen paces.
"My good doctor, a moment please, if I may bend your ear on a personal matter? A good friend of mine has fallen ill..."
So saying, he walks a ways with the doctor, voice lowering to a murmur.
"As I was saying, a personal friend has fallen ill and is residing at my estate. By chance could you bring yourself to visit him and seek a cure? He's a wealth of historical knowledge, and Korvosa would lose an admirable historian should he be allowed to slip through our fingers."
He places one hand on the doctor's shoulder and shakes with the other, smiling and showing large, almost horse-like teeth.
The idea of a state of near-martial-law doesn't particularly appeal to Mouse...but with the threat of illness so severe, she could perhaps understand the intensity of the reaction. After all...they had to do something. And though the doctors didn't have the most comforting bearing, at least they were going out to help. 'S more 'n some folks're doin, she muses with a hint of disgust, remembering the dwarven priestess in the Abadaran temple.
At least something was being done. In the meantime, personal matters needed attending to as well. So, Field Marshal, ma'am...'ow's things been? Been a bit since Lord Fordyce last 'ad us over - but I 'magine y' been a bit busy since then. She tries to keep her tone as light and casual as possible to keep the conversation innocent to prying ears...but Cressida had had some dark suspicions when last they'd met, and had been navigating some thin ice. If the Field Marshal was in trouble, Mouse wanted to know.
Pietro neared Dr. Davalous and offered his help, "Contagious diseases are a sort of obsession with me. I have amassed quite a bit of literature that I will gladly share with you and your research team."
he added, "As professional courtesy and knowing that we are all wanting the same thing, I would ask for any information you have gathered or progress you've made. Where will your research team be working?"
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