Cressida listens to the reports from each of you. Her body language shows some relief as a measure of anxiety seems to fade from her muscles, though her face is still thoughtful and brow furrowed in concern.
"Hmm. I'd send a full detachment to scour the Grey District for any remnants if only I had the manpower... Hopefully the Pharasmans will get their house in order. It's unlike them to miss something of such significance. In the meantime, yes, I will send a patrol to secure the warrens."
To Zamanda's and Pel's question, she nods gravely. "I have heard of the execution, and the... 'trial', though only after the Queen's verdict had been rendered. I don't know if they actually have Trinia. I doubt it, but the Queen has ordered the Guard to focus on keeping the piece, saying this is a matter for the Crown. Even if I disobeyed my orders and stuck my nose into the Castle to find it is someone falsely accused, I fear I could say nothing without tipping our hand... and losing my head. As for riots, yes... Just as in the day after the King's death, some will see this as justice, while others will see it as yet another opportunity for the Chelaxian... well, you know what they call her, to consolidate her power. They'll see it as a sham, and the two groups will begin to fight again."
As for the evidence of a plague, Cressida accepts it and carefully sets it aside. "I'll have this examined but I trust your assessment, Miss Ca..." She pauses, mid-word, then smiles and offers a tired wink. "Zamanda." The moment of mirth fades, "The news is grave indeed. I'm no expert, but the only reason I can think of in reducing the rate of mortality is to increase the ability of the disease to spread and infect more people. Surely, these people aren't looking for a cure. I'll have my people begin looking into it, asking around, see what we can find out, and to study these samples. Perhaps we can find out what they're doing."
She sighs, rubs her temples again, then says, "We are at something of a dead end, at the moment, unless you plan on storming the dungeon of Castle Korvosa. And we're exhausted. If there's nothing else, I suggest you get yourselves some rest."
Zamanda returns home to get some sleep. Storming the dungeon was a good idea, but not a realistic one, especially with no spells. She dreaded the idea of the execution though. Trinia or not, the Queen was going to put an innocent to death tomorrow. If there was an opportunity to do something, she would... but first, sleep. Then maybe she could think of something useful that wouldn't just get her killed instead.
Becoming increasingly paranoid, she makes sure that the books she picked up, the rest of the samples, and her notes are secure and the door barred before she sleeps.
Kalem went home feeling disgruntled. He had expected to be paid for what they did. A thanks and a “go away” wasn’t what he expected. Looking at the dump which was his home, he sighed. Someday he would move out of here and have a respectable life. He was sure of it. Still...the ring he had found. It was a good start.
He sat down on his bed and began pulling off his boots. He didn’t make it past the first one before he was already asleep.
Not enough guardsmen for much these days. Barely enough to keep the order when another wave of riots begin. Bashiel muses grimly to himself It falls on us and no one else to deal with things like the Urgathoans, it seems.
Bashiel salutes as his boots click together, perhaps a little more sluggishly than they would normally. "Very well Field Marshal. We definitely need the rest. We will regroup tomorr- or rather, later today, to consider next steps."
Even in front of the Field Marshal, he can't help but sigh slightly. Between this announcement of Trinia's execution, Rolth's disappearance and plans, the Urgathoan disease, and even just the next riot on the horizon... He shakes his head and takes his leave from Cressida.
Bashiel makes a couple of last detours before heading to rest. First to get measurements taken for a new, more protective set of armor . Second to purchase a few other items . And last to send messages to his family, and to Mirya. That last one does not come easily. He spends precious minutes warring with his desire to encourage her to leave the city. But with tiredness setting in, he can't quite gather his thoughts enough to form something coherent and convincing enough.
Instead, he returns back to the Citadel and finally turns in for the morning, thoughts muddling about menacingly in his head.
Pel is grateful for a break to the hecticness of the last few days. So much had happened in such a short space of time. Based on the Queen's latest actions, it seems many more things are yet to come before Korvosa returns to some sense of normalcy.
After bidding the Field Marshall farewell, Pel wanders through the streets of the city, his city. Despite being Chelaxian, Pel knows he's a Korvosan, through and through. He's not just going to abandon it to riots and cultists and whatever else in the nine hells is happening in the city.
Eventually, Pel makes his way to the Caydenite tavern he frequented as a teenager. He's not quite ready to impose on his new... Friends? Companions? Acquaintances? At least at the tavern he felt he was with family, or the closest thing he could get to it.
Pel orders a beer and takes a seat near where he had his fortuitous conversation with Zandu. He hopes he's been brave like Cayden and Zandu would want. Korvosa needs more brave people. It has more than enough cowards to go around.
After drinking a couple beers and visiting with the other Caydenites in the tavern, Pel books a room for the night. He decides against getting one for multiple nights since he has no clue what's going to happen tomorrow.
When he finally beds down for the night, Pel finds himself staring at the ceiling for the better part of an hour. Despite his fatigue from staying up for an excessively long time, he can't help but wonder what part he and his brother play in all this. It couldn't just be a coincidence that Rut... and his parents for that matter... disappeared in the middle of all the happenings in Korvosa.. could it? And Pel still refuses to believe his family perished in the fire at their mansion. Perhaps they died... but it couldn't have been there, could it? They were smarter than that.
Finally, mercifully, Pel's thoughts are cut short as sleep takes him. He'll let tomorrow worry about itself.
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Though Ilsa had initially planned to leave Briget immediately to finish their investigation, she finds herself with some time on her hands to rest.
Tired as she is, she finds her way making her way toward Gregor's small house. She stops on the way and buys some bread, ham, and a wheel of cheese, as well as a rag doll that catches her attention.
Though drowsy, she knocks on the door and asks Gregor if she can spend one last night with her niece. At least for now.
She stays up as late as she can before sleep takes her. But for the first time in a long time, the nightmares seem a little further away.
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The next morning, after the spoils of the raid have been divided up, Kalem went out shopping. The night before he had left the squalor of his hovel dreaming about moving into some place nice. And now he could! He had spent his life skimming silver from the economy of the city, stealing and lying his way from one meal to a next. And now he had well over two thousand gold. Two thousand! It was...such a fortune. He could move out of the gutter. He could be someone respectable. It was with this in mind that he went to the market.
---
Kalem stopped in his tracks as he walked through the Gold Market. There was a stall. Standing there was Sagitar Tiguan The man was shouting "Ioun Stones! Spell Books! Self-Defense Wands! Come one, come all, be the man that you always knew yourself to be! Don't let your family suffer!"
The gold was heavy in it's pouch. It wouldn't hurt to look, would it? He walked over to the stall. The man grinned at him. "Why, you look like someone who has more than a few crowns to rub together. What can I get for you? A potion of love? A wand of summoning? Or how about an amulet that will heal the most grievous of wounds?" Kalem looked through the stall, and picked up a small stone.
"What is this?" He looked at it. It was small, and it was obviously cracked. The stone was a dusty red color.
"That? That my friend is an ioun stone. Made by the most talented of wizards, the one you are holding will increase your reactions exponentially. Such a valued treasure it is."
Kalem looked into it, and could...almost see something. It was like there was a voice inside of it. A voice that wasn't speaking any language that he had ever heard. It was...what? Chittering? He tried to listen to it. He could smell lavender.
Sagitar looked at Kalem quizzically. "Tiefling, are you alright? I don't want any trouble. Why don't you just-?" Kalem pulled out his Drake Mark and shoved it in Sagitar's face.
"This ioun stone. How much?" The man stared at the Darke Mark and started "This stone was taken from the corpse of a most dangerous liche. Why, I couldn't let it go for more than seven hundred-"
Kalem glared at the man. He had almost fallen for the man's sale's pitch. But he had bought an ioun stone before, and as such was familiar with their correct prices. "Seven hundred? Come now. This isn't my first time here. I am a man of the crown, sworn to enforce the will of the queen. I think that I know a scam when I see one."
Sagitar forced a smile on his face, though the irritation was plain to see. "I see. Well, let none say that Sagitar the magnanimous isn't as patriotic a citizen as any. For you, and only because of my love for the queen, I will sell it for the pittance of five hundred crowns. Though I warn you! My children will go hungry when I lose on a sale like this. My wife! Oh, she will kill me."
Kalem nodded. "And five hundred it is then. I am sure that your wife will be patriotic enough to understand your sacrifice."
Taken the ioun stone in his hand, he took a deep breath. He took in the aroma that only he could smell. He listened to that chittering at the edge of his consciousness. And he knew what he had to do. He pulled out his wayfinder. He had bought it because of how beautiful it was, and intricate layers of gems within it made it seem like a good investment. The ioun stone was slotted in, and immediately he could feel the effect. He felt taller...more confident. He couldn't hear the sounds anymore, and the smell vanished. But in it's place he just felt right. As if though this was how things ought to be.
Sagitar smiled. "That looks good on you! But your clothes?"
Kalem frowned. "What about my clothes?" The salesman smiled. "Wouldn't these look better on you?" He flicked his wrists, and suddenly he was in the opulent garb of a nobleman. "Or this?" Another flick, and he was wearing a hooded cloak that was pure black. Blacker than the deepest night. "Or how about this?!" He flicked his wrists and suddenly was in a full gown. Kalem laughed, despite himself.
"All right! All right! You made your point." Sagitar went back to wearing his original clothes. "How much? And let's cut the bargaining. I already know what these are worth."
After several minutes of haggling, Kalem walked off with his very own sleeves of many garments. He told himself that it was a good investment. No more would he ever have to worry about buying new clothes. No longer would he worry about being covered in blood. Of having torn pants or ripped shirts. It would save so much gold in the long run!
With a much lighter pouch he continued through the Gold Market.
* 20 point buy
* Str (14) Dex (14) Con (14) Int (10) Wis (18) Cha (6)
* HP (10) Saves (4/2/6, +2 hardy) Lvl 1 Spells (4/4)
* Conversion Inquisition (Wis for Diplomacy, Intimidate, Bluff)
* Stoic Negotiator (+2 Bluff, +2 Diplomacy, +2 Profession Merchant)
* lvl 1 feat-Stone Faced (+4 bluff, but not for feinting)
* Traits: For the Money (+1 appraise and class skill), Propitiation (Your knowledge of the dwarven pantheon tells you precisely which gods have jurisdiction over which aspects of your life, and you can call upon the appropriate deity for help even if that deity is not your patron. At the start of each day, pick one of the following skills: Appraise, Bluff, Craft (pick one craft skill), Diplomacy, Intimidate, or Knowledge (local). You gain a +2 trait bonus on that skill until the start of the next day.)
* Skills: (not including propitiation)
- Bluff: 1 skill point (+14/+15)
- Diplomacy: 1 skill point (+10)
- Intimidate: 1 skill point (+9)
- Profession Merchant: 1 skill point (+9)
- Appraise: 1 skill point (+7)
- Sense Motive: 1 skill point (+7/+8)
- Perception: 1 skill point (+7/+8)
* Studied Target (A slayer can study an opponent he can see as a move action. The slayer then gains a +1 bonus on Bluff, Knowledge, Perception, Sense Motive, and Survival checks attempted against that opponent, and a +1 bonus on weapon attack and damage rolls against it. The DCs of slayer class abilities against that opponent increase by 1. A slayer can only maintain these bonuses against one opponent at a time; these bonuses remain in effect until either the opponent is dead or the slayer studies a new target.)
He almost got out of the market when he saw the dwarf. The dwarf was a broad as Kalem, only much shorter. A thick gray beard hung all the way down to his belt. The dwarf's face was a patchwork of old scars, and his eyes were as hard as steel. He had a stall, and it was covered in arms and armor. Slowly he walked towards it.
Looking over the assorted pieces of equipment, he could feel his jaw begin to drop. Just a day ago he had nearly died fighting cultists. It was how he had gotten all of this gold. He had thought that his hammer and chain shirt were well made, but this?
Seeing him stare, the dwarf said "Ye look like a bruiser. Like meself when I was younger. Before I went an' got meself injured."
The dwarf then went on to show Kalem his wares. Living Steel Fullplate! Armor which mended itself. Fire-Forged breastplates, which absorbed heat...and with their accompanying hammers, would then released the captured fire into devastating blows. Axes made out of adamantine, which could cut through solid stone. The wonders! He felt himself get lost in the dwarf's words. And before he knew it, they were talking about the dwarf's military campaigns. Of how he had lost three of his fingers to an abomination, of how an orc alchemist had ruined his face...Kalem could barely believe the tales of daring. So many of them made the last night seem like a child's game. And through it all, the dwarf extolled the virtues of proper, dwarven-made, arms and armor. Of how his life had been saved on so many occasions by having the right armor when his own skill could not match the danger. The dwarf, he was so humble too!
By the time Kalem left, he was wearing a new chain shirt. It was made out of Mithril and was blessed by a priest of Torag. The dwarf had been so kind, that he had even given Kalem a discount when he traded in his old 'battered' chain shirt. Armor fit for an elf, the dwarf had said. He had felt on top of the world when he put it on. The mithril was so light that it felt like nothing was on. Why, he could sleep in this and wake up feeling completely refreshed. It was amazing! And to think, it only cost him two thousand and one hundred gold crowns.
Leaving the Gold Market, Kalem suddenly stopped in his traps. Two thousand...? He pulled out his pouch and counted what he had left. Sixty-eight gold crowns. That dwarf...he looked behind him and sighed. All of his dreams of moving to a nicer area of town vanished. In the space of an afternoon he was back where he started.
Kalem walked off, eager to find his friends. Maybe there would be another job for them soon? He was once more in need of life-threatening work. There was no way he could go back to his old life of small-time hustling. Not after this...
The evening before the execution, those of you who stayed at the Citadel are summoned to Cressida's office. Those who returned home are sought out by a messenger. The request is the same.
The field marshal has had time to think on the trial and pending execution of 'Trinia' and, whatever is going on, she thinks it would be helpful if you went to the square to observe and try to figure out the truth of it. If met in person, Cressida is careful to not suggest you take any action that could be defined as treasonous, but, if pressed, adds that she trusts your judgment to act in the interest of Korvosa and its citizens.
The execution is scheduled for noon in a public courtyard in the shadow of Castle Korvosa.
Pel wakes up early enough the day of the execution to prepare a couple spells that normally just took up room on his spell list. He didn't know what the day would hold, but he wants to be ready for anything.
He waves goodbye to the Caydenite tavern owner on his way out then heads toward the square.
Pel says a short prayer to Cayden Cailean on his way, Help me to be brave enough to do whatever needs to be done.
Once he arrives at the square, Pel uses his wand to cast Mage Armor on himself.
0 Level: Detect Magic, Read Magic, Dancing Lights, Daze, Mage Hand, Acid Splash
1st Level: Magic Missile, Cause Fear, Color Spray
2nd Level: Invisibility
Kalem makes his way to the square. His mail shirt is hidden beneath his clothes...and he has decided to make his clothes appear to be a perfectly tailored suit. Why? Because he had always seen people wear such clothes, and could never afford it himself. It was the kind of clothing that a well-to-do merchant or artisan might wear. Of course, the massive hammer slung across his back told a completely different story as to who he was, but he wasn’t willing to leave that behind. He wondered if there was any magic that could disguise it...
...arriving at the square, he noticed Pel. With a smile he walked over, his back straight, head up, and full of confidence. ”Pel. Glad to see you. You’re looking well.”
Zamanda goes to her parent's house to check in and make sure things are okay, and then she goes to the square as requested.
She has decided to what she can to free whatever innocent is being executed, but isn't sure whether to tell her friends, because then they will be implicated as well.
She goes early and tries to find a place up close where she might be able to sneak in invisibly, but most of all where she can get a really good look and see if it is Trinia.
Bashiel wakes late into the afternoon, goes about gathering the items he ordered early in the morning before going to sleep, and then returns to mull over his letter. He stares at the parchment, quill in hand, mind churning through the options. The ink dries on the tip of his quill. He dips it again. It dries again. He dips it again. Finally, as the sun is beginning to set, he begins to write...
I hope this letter finds you weathering the chaos of the last few days well. It's been hell here in the streets, and I'm starting to feel like that expression is especially appropriate these days. The Guard's been doing its best to hold things together, but sometimes it feels like someone is intentionally trying to make the chaos worse. I'd tell you I've been staying safe, but that'd be a total lie, and you'd know it. I'll just say I've become part of a really good team, and we've been looking out for each other.
I wish I could be there to look out for you too Mirya. Word around the Citadel is that the Sable Company is going to be disbanded by the Queen. I know how you love those featherballs, so I have my fingers crossed that it doesn't happen. I'm worried about what that might mean for you. I don't know what to think of the Queen right now, but she seems very cutthroat. And trust me that this is not a good time to be out of a job.
You're going to shake your head, but I wish you could consider leaving the city. I was going to make something up to get you to go. Some kind of lie that would convince you. But I'm sure you'd see through it. So I'll just say that the city is tearing apart right now, and any one of us that stays is rolling the dice to find out if the tear goes through us. Take Blackbeak with you if you have to. The Company is hardly going to miss him soon enough.
I miss you. All through the last few days I've been thinking about how something could have happened to you. I wish we could meet tonight before the Queen's 'announcement' tomorrow. I will be at the Citadel, so just return the courier with this message right back with your reply.
Yours always,
Bashiel
Scarcely five minutes after he sends it, he gets summoned back to Cressida for the update on the 'Trinia' situation. The lack of clarity on the situation leaves him uneasy, but he agrees to go to observe and hold back from taking any extreme action. Though, knowing his allies, their own promises not to act may not hold very strongly.
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Bashiel wakes on the day of the supposed execution feeling vaguely anxious, but well rested. He takes his time in getting cleaned up and refreshed for the first time in a while, making use of the Citadel's utilitarian facilities. He takes an hour to pray to Osiris for strength and guidance.
He gathers all his gear and sets out to the square. Clean, full, and well equipped, he nevertheless feels a knot building in his stomach at the thought of the injustice he'll soon be forced to witness without recourse.
~And so you should Bashiel~ Harize's voice cuts through the muted discussion in the back of his skull. ~Injustice in some form awaits. An innocent's blood will be spilled to satisfy an unreasoning thirst. A great lie will be perpetuated to quell the fearful masses. These movements are beyond our capabilities to avert.~
~But know this Bashiel. The face shown by your queen here will reveal her nature. And through you, Osiris is watching. Judgement will await her should she stray from the right path.~
In response to Harize's foreboding words, Bashiel can't help but think You're not expecting me to be that judgement, are you? But he's met by silence from his paladin mentor.
Arriving in the square, Bashiel pushes through the crowd until he can meet up with Pellius. "Morning Pel. I hope you've taken the Field Marshal's words to heart and aren't planning something. As she belabored to me at length afterward, we're not here to get thrown into the dungeons."
Bashiel double-takes as he realizes that the well dressed tiefling standing nearby is none other than Kalem. "What happened Kalem? Are you alright?"
Kalem grinned. ”Amazing isn’t it? Magic, that is. These can be any clothes that I want. This suit was worn by a merchant who spat at me when I was a child and he mistook me for a pickpocket. I’ll never forget his face, or his suit. Which looks better on me, I think.”
He really did look quite happy. And he had enough gold left over to afford a house in Midland soon. Thanks to their patron paying them. It was amazing how quickly he was moving up in the world.
”And what about you? You look every inch the steel-clad fist of justice.”
Bashiel looks positively distressed at 'steel-clad fist of justice'. "You're making me sound like some kind of hellknight!" He looks down at himself "I sure hope I don't give off that impression. Would be hard to put people at ease that way when we're trying to help them."
Kalem held his hands up. ”No my friend! Justice! I said Justice, not the Law. The two are very different and should never be confused. I would never insult you as such. I mean it as the highest compliment.”
Pel offers Bashiel a grin at the paladin's admonishment. He stretches out his hands to his sides then points at himself and says, "Look at me. Do I look like the kind of person to get into a scuffle? I wouldn't last five seconds with you or Kalem, so I don't think you have to worry about me getting into a fight."
The arcanist spoke truthfully, if only a half-truth. He certainly has no plans to get into a fight... whether or not he takes any action at all is another matter entirely. Perhaps Bashiel and the others would be even more worried if they knew he worshiped Cayden Cailean. Well... something to share another time.
"And I certainly don't plan on getting thrown into the dungeons," Pel concludes.
Turning to Kalem, Pel wonders the same thing as Bashiel. The tiefling is dressed extremely well. It's when Kalem mentions magic that Pel realizes what's up.
Pel briefly changes his clothes' appearance to match that of Kalem's before turning them back to clothes that more easily blend in with the crowd. "Magic is a wonderful thing, isn't it? Too bad for that merchant. I suspect he could have had a hard worker on his hands if he'd given a care." Pel meant the remark as a compliment, but given how little he still knows about Kalem and the others, he's unsure how the tiefling will interpret it. Being Chelaxian, Pel still harbors some familial prejudice against Kalem and his kind. Perhaps the man could finally put Pel's doubts to rest.
Deciding to add a bit to Kalem's latest remark, Pel says, "Being Chelaxian, I know a thing or two about hellknights, Bash. Let me assure you, you're nothing like them."
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Ilsa joins the others late, having stayed as long as she could with Briget. She left Gregor with twenty gold for any expenses, and told the halfling she would return with more from time to time.
She had taken a little longer to get to the others because she had made a purchase of her own.
Her experience hadn't been one of haggling over prices, but something within her own mind. As she had passed one particular magic shop, an item inside had almost...called to her?
When she went inside, she knew immediately which it had been: an elegant headband that, when she put it on, seemed to focus her newfound powers somehow. She could almost feel her control increase. It had been expensive, but the former shop girl had more money than she knew what to do with...more than she had seen in a lifetime.
Joining the others, her attention is immediately drawn to Kalem.
"Well, don't you look handsome!" she says as she admires his attire, suddenly self-conscious in her slightly too-tight, second-hand leather armor.
But something seems different about Ilsa, too. If anything, she seems to possess a compelling attractiveness or charm...even moreso than she had the previous day.
As your group begins to gather in the courtyard, it seems those of you who invested in some nicer clothes timed your investments well. The toast of Korvosa is in attendance, replete with garish gowns, fine capes and enough jewels to blind the common citizen. The overall feel of the event is that of a grand ball or party, not an assassin's public execution. Some heralds stand at the ready on a platform abutting the castle upon which rests a high throne-like chair. At the opposite end of the courtyard is a guillotine and next to it, like an ominous sentinel, stands a towering, muscular man wearing an executioner's hood and idly holding an immense axe.
Zamanda matches her outfit to the crowd around her, and changes her hair color with prestidigitation so that she won't be quickly recognized. She gets as close to the guillotine as possible.
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Kalem smiled at Pel, and was about to respond...and that was when he saw Ilsa. The didn't know why, but he had never realized how beautiful she was. The words he meant to speak to Pel died in his mouth. He recovered, and with a faux formal bow said "And despite my attire, my presence is still but a candle while yours is the sun. Ah, fate is so cruel to take away my spotlight so quickly and with such force."
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Ilsa blushes at the sudden attention.
It's not until this moment that she realizes it's the first time in months she has allowed herself a moment of happiness. She also realizes she has grown in affection for her new companions. They are no longer associates of necessity, but comrades she would entrust her life to. Though the time they had spent together was short, they had come to know each other as they dealt with the extremes of human experience.
Without responding to Kalem, she raises up on her tip-toes and kisses him on the cheek, then turns toward the assembling crowd.
"We have important things to see to, do we not?" she says, still blushing.
"And with that, this day has turned a profit already." Kalem said with a smile. "But yes, we do. Has anyone seen Varor, though? I hope that he finishes his shopping soon."
Bashiel grins at the affirmations coming from Pel and Kalem. "Well, if you say so, I guess I'll have to trust you. But the first time a citizen runs away screaming from me I'll be blaming you. Oh, and Pel, I didn't know you were Chelaxian." He considers for a moment a good-natured jest about devils and Chelaxians, but it catches in his throat. He takes in the audience of Korvasa's elite, the general aura of festivity, and his allies' own positivity. To his eyes and ears it all suddenly seems to take on an edge of hysteria.
Desperation, fear, and what else? You were right Harize.
He claps Ilsa's shoulder when she approaches, grin far weaker than before "Good to see you too Ilsa. I haven't seen Varor or Zamanda yet, but they're probably around here somewhere." When Kalem makes his comment a chuckle bursts from the paladin before he can control himself. He raises an eyebrow and gives the tiefling a silent golf clap (outside of Ilsa's line of sight).
Pel raises an eyebrow at Kalem and Ilsa's exchange. He starts to comment but decides that some things are better left unsaid. Still, Pel is certainly happy for the woman. Getting her niece back seemed to have affected her greatly... in a good way.
To Bashiel's statment, Pel replies awkwardly, "Well... now you know." Pel isn't really proud of his heritage, but it's a fact, whether he likes it or not. It takes every ounce of self-control he has not to constantly roll his eyes at the nobles dressed extravagantly for the execution. Regardless of the accused's guilt or innocence, the execution should have been a somber affair, not a spectacle.
Pel moves to get as close as possible to the guillotine as well. If he's able to ascertain where 'Trinia' is going to be led out from, he'll move to stand as close to there as possible.
When Varor made it to the temple he went straight to his small room not answering anyone when they tried to ask him questions. When he made it inside he removed his equipment and put it away before lying on his bed and falling asleep.
He was awoken several hours later by knocking on his door. When he open it he found an acolyte standing on the other side, delivering a message that Cressida was requesting his presence. After nodding the acolyte away he reequipped himself and made his way to the Cressida's office.
After receiving his portion of his pay and getting his rope back Varor decides to head to the market, this influx of gold being too much for him to keep on his person for long. ’With this execution the chaos will start to die down which means I shouldn't need better weapons and armor, but with urgathoens running around I'd rather be prepared.’
As Varor reached the Gold Market the sun was beginning to hide behind the buildings of Korvosa. The market would have been a surprisingly untouched area had it not been for the obvious amount of guards hired by the merchants to keep the anarchy away. ’Must be getting paid well to miss out on a good opportunity to steal. Or maybe they're hoping this will lead to long-term employment.’
He shocked the thought away as he found himself in front of the market stand of the man he had to come here to see, ”Ruth I'm glad to see you're alive. Has the recent havoc that has befallen our fair city finally convinced you to open your heart to Sarenrae’s light?” He asked.
”No father the only light I have embraced is it the light of the fires started by the rioters,” the young man said as he narrowed his green eyes.
”Well you seem to be in quite the mood, what happened?”
Ruth crossed his arms over his chain clad chest as he snarled through his teeth. ”What happened? The king died, that's what happened! People tried to rob my house and when I caught them in the act they ran. They came back the next day to burn it down and I killing one of them when I stop them, so then I had to explain to the guard that they got to try and accuse me of unjustified murder that they were the ones who tried to rob my house and raise it to the ground. When the guard didn't believe me, because he heard their story first, he took me to a cell. And then earlier today they found my house robbed and raised to the ground! Luckily I'm not an idiot and got all of my valuables hidden away before they got the guard there to have me arrested.”
Varor blinked and said, ”Ruth I'm saddened by your misfortune but why you? I mean no offense but you are not the person who immediately comes to mind when I think of someone to steal from.”
”Former customers,” he spat. ”Either idiots who thought I took them for a ride or opportunist who understood the quality of my goods.”
”Well this customer won't rob you. In fact he's here to pick up an order and place one for some good chainmail.”
Ruth ducks under his stand for a moment and comes back up with a finally made scimitar, freshly sharpened and polished with a groove running its length, he puts it in a wood sheath before handing it to the elf.”Here is the scimitar you've requested and I can have the chainmail here in a week. Would there be anything else?”
Varor hands him a stack of gold coins and takes the scimitar, ”No thanks Ruth, I'll be back for the armor,” he says before he bows his head. ”And may the light of Sarenrae guide you.”
XXX
’Well that's a dent in it but I still need to do something about all of this gold, carrying around a big bag of money is asking for trouble,’ Varor thinks as he makes his way out of the Gold Market. On his way out however he notices a man sitting on what appears to be a wool cloth with a variety of items in front of him. The man was covered in cloth of blue and gold of Katapesh design if he had to take a guess. His skin was bronze and Varor didn't believe it was from being out in the sun.
The man noticed Varor and waved him over, ”My good sir I see my wares have caught your eye, would you perhaps be interested in making a buy?” He asked in a thick foreign accent and then chuckle that his own rhyme.
Varor stepped up to the man, ”I know Katapesh thrives on trade but I'm pretty sure you need some sort of permit in order to sell here legally,” he says to be now smiling man.
”Qadiran,” he says, ”and you're right and that's why I'm here, because I don't need a permit right now do I?” He asked knowing the question didn't need an answer. They both knew that the city guard had more important things to handle then one foreign merchants.
”If you know what state the city is in then why are you here?” Varor asked. He could tell that this man was an opportunist but he still wanted to know what kind of opportunist he is.
”It's because the city is in this state that I am here, chaos is good for business and nobody will raise a big fuss about the foreign man. But enough about me, let's talk business, you're carrying around a lot of gold and I doubt a sword and armor did much to alleviate you of your burden.”
Varor narrowed his eyes at the man, ”You were spying on me”
”No no,” the man said smiling, ”You came in here with only one scimitar now you have two, your scale mail is clearly scratched and dented and it's not like that bag is very subtle. I would offer a bag of holding if I had one.”
Varor couldn't say anything in his own defense, the foreign man was right after all, that didn't stop his hand from clenching. ”Alright what do you have at a budget of 2000 gold pieces?”
”Which means you have more, and judging by your scimitars and the pendant around your neck I’d say you are a follower of Sarenrae and I have just the thing for her followers,” he says he lifts up a long strip of red fabric with an ankh-shaped clasp of red gold. ”A Dawnflower Sash, a Qadiran specialty that will protect you from the heat and will allow you to fall like a feathered if you unwrap it and hold the clasp in your hand. Followers of the Dawnflower can also make the clasp glow like the light of the Sun and can also perform some degree of healing, but it will only work once and must be placed under strong sunlight for 8 hours to heal again. 2500 gold pieces and it's yours, I'll even bump down the price for that old scimitar and your armor if you're willing to part with them, after all if you don't need them somebody else will.”
XXX
The next day Varor walked into the public courtyard wearing a white tunic, brown pants and shoes with a new scimitar and a red belt. Easily spotting the group that he had become quite familiar with over the past few days he made his way over to them struggling with getting through the crowd. Eventually making it over to the group he says, ”I'm sorry I'm late, I had some trouble tying my belt this morning”
Bashiel waves a greeting to Varor as the elf approaches, eyeing his new clothing and scimitar "You too? Seems like everyone dressed up for the occasion, half the city included."
When he spots Pel moving closer to the stairs to the (presumed) platform for the execution, Bashiel follows after the arcanist. Over his shoulder he whispers to the others "Keep the Field Marshal's advice in mind OK? You won't be able to do yourself or the city any good if you do something irrational here."
Cressida is careful to not suggest you take any action that could be defined as treasonous, but, if pressed, adds that she trusts your judgment to act in the interest of Korvosa and its citizens.
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”And a fine belt that is! It suits you. Looks like it cost a prettt penny, though.” Kalem was glad to see Varor. While he didn’t say it, they rarely went anywhere without bleeding copiously. Having the elf around made him feel much more at ease.
Responding to some unseen cue, as one the heralds raise their horns and drums begin to play from somewhere else. The fanfare washes over the courtyard, drowning out any conversations, and Queen Ileosa emerges amid the great flourish and pomp. She carries herself with poise, style and grace, wearing a green and white silk dress, surely worth thousands of gold coins, and is attended by a small army of striking guards clad in polished gray suits of full plate with fully enclosed helms topped with a crimson plume. One has a particularly ornate suit of armor and stands closest to the queen.
Ileosa takes her seat and the fanfare fades. Whispers ripple through the assemblage--admiring comments on the queen's attire, predictions regarding how the traitor might comport herself, speculations as to the identity of the armored guardians flanking the queen... and even a few glances cast your way. "Did you hear how they dealt with the King of Spiders? ... Stopped some rioters from looting my haberdasher... Took out a drug dealer the Guard couldn't find..."
After a moment, the drums return beating a much more ominous cadence and the gawkers fall silent. A door opens at the other end of the courtyard and members of the Korvosan guard flank and escort a figure bound in manacles and face covered by a hood. Moving in synch with the beat of the drums, they slowly make their way to the executioner's platform. Once there, the woman's hood is removed. Those of you standing close to the platform get a good view and see a terribly frightened woman struggling to hold back her tears -- but it is not Trinia. She is led to stand before the guillotine, her arms bound behind her back by a leather cord. Back at the other end of the courtyard, the queen addresses the crowd.
"Fellow Korvosans! You have suffered greatly these past few weeks. Homes have burned, family members have died, and fortunes have been lost. I feel your suffering, for not only have I lost a beloved husband, but with each act of anarchy that followed, my heart bled more. This has been a trying time for us, yet the torment is at an end.
"Before you is the source of your anguish and pain. Do not be deceived by this murderer’s timid nature—she is a black-hearted assassin. I offer you her death as a salve against the hatred and hurt you have suffered.
“And so, without further delay, let us usher in this new dawn with justice! OFF WITH HER HEAD!”
The executioner takes the condemned with one hand on a shoulder and the other grasping her bound wrists. He begins to force her into the guillotine when he cries out in pain as a hurled dagger embeds itself in the back of his hand! As the executioner's grip falters, a cry echoes through the crowd between you and the platform, "It's Blackjack!"
An instant later, man dressed in a hooded cloak and black mask leaps onto the platform and the side of the condemned woman. Using a dagger, he slashes the bonds on Trinia's wrists and then throws the same dagger down to pin the executioner's left foot to the wood platform. He turns and yells to the shocked crowd:
"Yes indeed, my queen! Let us usher in justice, but let that be justice for Korvosa! Not the shambles you call a monarchy! Long live Korvosa! Down with the queen!"
The crowd begins to roar but not in unison. Some demand the woman's head, echoing the queen's command. Others call for the queen to abdicate the throne. For her part, the Queen stands stunned for a moment, then whispers something to the armored figure at her side before quickly turning to flee into the castle. Guards in the courtyard begin to try to jostle their way through the crowd to get to Blackjack and the platform, but the chaos makes movement difficult.
As your attention whipsaws between these events, you see on the platform, behind Blackjack, the executioner recovering from his wounds and lifting his axe. Blackjack seems unawares, having forgotten the threat behind him in his delight at forcing the queen to flee.
Zamanda, knowing that she will be unable to stop the chain of events personally at this point yells out with everything she has
If he doesn't hear and she has time, she will cast *one* magic missile at the executioner (just to draw attention to him, not trying to kill him).
”What are you doing?!” Kalem looked at Zamanda with alarm. ”Stop! We work for the queen!” He had gotten more money this past week then he had in his entire life and she was throwing it all away!
Zamanda says fiercely back to Kalem
The queen is killing innocents. I don't work for her. I work for the field marshall. ... And get out of my face.
Unable to get to Zamanda and shocked by the turn of events, Kalem ran over to Bashiel and said: ”This is going to turn into a riot! I don’t care if some criminal takes the fall for public order, but this is going to tear the city apart. How do we stop this?”
Tales of Blackjack’s moves against corrupt politicians, cruel nobles, and greedy merchants have been part of Korvosa’s culture for 2 centuries, and although Blackjack hasn’t made an appearance in the last decade, stories about him remain as popular as ever among the peasants. Because Blackjack has existed for centuries, few believe him to be a single person. The most popular rumor surrounding Blackjack is that his role has been filled by a series of human men, with one training a replacement each generation.
'How is Blackjack going to escape' Varor thinks if he starts looking for possible escape routes.
Whatever Bashiel was expecting, it certainly wasn't this. The audacious claim from Blackjack leaves him speechless and frozen for the first few seconds as the vigilante frees "Trinia". Kalem's exclamation snaps him back to reality and he quickly looks from side to side, expression stricken "Damn it, I don't think we can! This isn't something our blades can solve! I'm going to at least get that poor girl to safety before the crowd turns on her."
Thankful that he had the foresight to join Pel up front, Bashiel pushes his way through the increasingly rowdy crowd to get to the stage itself. He relies on his imposing stature to make his way through, but he's slowed down due to his unwillingness to be rough with these civilians. As he concentrates on getting to "Trinia" and Blackjack, his hand moves unconsciously on its own, slipping into his pack and pulling out a potion of invisibility.
~Bashiel, you will need this if you want to have any hope of getting her out safely.~
Pel glances between Bashiel, Blackjack, 'Trinia,' and the executioner. With the crowd and the raised platform, Pel doesn't see anyway the paladin could get there before the executioner's axe came down hard on the urban legend.
"Behind you, Blackjack!" Pel shouts at the hooded figure before doing the only thing he can think of that might save Blackjack from the executioner's swing. He casts a spell. Drawing from his inner reservoir of arcane energy, Pel does everything he can to make sure the spell succeeds. The executioner couldn't finish his swing if he feared for his life. Hopefully that would give Blackjack and the innocent girl enough time to escape before the Queen's people descended on them.
After he casts the spell, Pel moves in the same direction as Bashiel and shouts after the paladin, "I think Blackjack has the girl! We need to cover their exit!"
Even as he moves forward, Pel finds himself almost unconsciously praying, Cayden, guide my steps. Guide all our steps.
In the moment before the dagger is thrown and Blackjack leaps onto the platform, a voice can be heard yelling, "That's not Trinia!" Whether that utterance is the trigger for Blackjack's first move or mere coincidence is unclear.
Later, as the executioner prepares to move on Blackjack, the same voice calls out but louder, "Watch out Blackjack! Behind you!!" And another, a male, "Behind you, Blackjack!" The masked man pivots about 'Trinia', one hand wrapped around her waist and maneuvering his body between her and the executioner as his rapier comes up to parry a blow that never comes. Instead, the executioner seems overwhelmed by fear; rather than swinging his axe, he suddenly starts to backpedal away from Blackjack before taking a clumsy leap off the platform, favoring his wounded foot and hand.
The roaring and screaming of the crowd intensifies and scuffles begin to break out, though the only ones with weapons out are the Korvosan Guard yet they act with admirable restraint, merely trying to get through to reach the platform. Even the Queen's guard, for now, keeps their weapons sheathed as they gradually file out to follow behind Ileosa. Only the most ornately armored of them lingers, the figure's gaze seemingly locked in the direction of the platform and those in the vicinity, an eerie oasis of stillness and quiet purpose amidst the chaos and noise.
As he barrels through, Bashiel manages to deflect a couple of exchanged fists in the crowd, glancing harmlessly off his new armor and perhaps encouraging the fists' owners to rethink the endeavor.
Back on the platform, after the executioner retreats, Blackjack turns towards the crowd but, in particular, his gaze locks briefly on Bashiel, Pellius and Zamanda. He raises his rapier in a salute to them before twirling about on a heel, pulling 'Trinia' behind him, and then clambering up a hanging banner strung on a nearby wall. His ability to do so while simultaneously pulling the woman up behind him speaks to either great strength or some enchantment. Then, as suddenly as he appeared, he and the woman are disappearing over the wall and into Korvosa.
Some in the crowd erupt in cheers while others decry justice denied. The guardsmen seems flummoxed, frozen in place with confusion over how to get to the escaping prisoner and vigilante.
Seeing Blackjack escaping and the false Trinia with him, Zamanda quickly ducks further into the crowd, changing her outfit with her sleeves of many garments, moving, then changing her hair back to normal with Prestidigitation, and (hoping that she can't be recognized as the same person who was at the execution anymore), she stands upright and starts calmly walking back to Cressida's office.
Bashiel is similarly flummoxed. He had been all prepared to step in to cover 'Trinia' when either the Guard or the Queen's Elites jumped Blackjack. But with the vigilante's quick escape, things feel strange.
Was this staged? By whom, how, and why?
He stands at arms reach from the platform, mind spinning, before a sudden ~Bashe!~ from inside his skull brings him back into the present.
Right. We have an audience to calm down. And I don't stand a chance of catching that madman.
He starts with the people closest to himself, laying reassuring hands on shoulders, uttering reassuring platitudes to get people's blood to stop pumping so hard. Its slow going, but he knows that it's far better to be calming than to utter anything loud or commanding to the very divided group.
'Damn I was hoping to follow him, all I can do now is get out of here,' Varor thinks as he turns to leave but notices Ilsa stunned motionless by what just happened and grabs her by the arm, "These people are about to turn into a mob let's go!"
Feeling confused and upset, Kalem joined Bashiel in trying to restore calm to the crowd.
Holding his medal up high, Kalem called out for calm. With confidence in his voice he confronted any rabble rousers and worked to isolate any areas within the crowd that looked like they could turn violent.
Seeing Kalem pull out his Drake's Mark, Bashiel does the same to give his soothing actions a little more respectability behind them.