Upon seeing the manor, Allyson's hair stands on end. The manor is certifiably terrifying looking, like a haunt out of a storybook. Still, it was their destination and her options had yet to expand.
Once inside, Allyson relaxes slightly. The familiarity of being waited on, is a luxury she did not expect to have again. She scans the servants, choosing for herself the lightest skinned female elf. "You, I'll be taking you for myself. Take me to my room at once and draw a warm bath." She follows the servant up, still weary for some kind of trap, though why someone would break these monsters out of a death sentence to kill them was beyond her. Still, it was obvious some in Talingarde had strange tastes far worse than death. As she walks the halls of the well appointed manor house, she does keep an eye out for any decorative weaponry that may adorn the walls, hoping still to find a proper sword.
Once Allyson is in her room, alone with her servant, she begins to undress, stripping the clothes and boots wet with marsh water off and plunging into the bath. She eyes her servant for a moment, "Well..." she states expectantly. "what are you waiting for? Wash me. I will not be as forgiving as your current master should you present me as anything less than perfection." Her tone is low and menacing, then softens as she continues, "But, if do well, and I shall be a reward you as you are due."
As the woman gets to work, Allyson shall inquire her servants name, and how she came into the service of her current master. She gets any information she, and once she has been sufficiently cleaned, Allyson will climb from the tub, allowing the servant to dry her. Once she is dry, she sends her servant to cleaning the gunk off her armor as Allyson moves to a small vanity and starts brushing her freshly washed and dried hair. She arranges her hair to the latest courtly fashion. Satisfied with her hair, she moves back dressing in this pitiful cloth they dare to call fashion. She hides her freshly cleaned chain shirt under one of the layers of the clothes left for her.
As she sets to leave, Allyson gives her servant a warning look. "Remain here until I return. I will have more for you to do."
Gliding down the stairs comes a striking contrast to the greasy captive the departed. A thin beauty with strong elven features marred by two small horns protruding from her fiery red hair the mark a darker heritage. Her posture and grace as she glides across the room marks her as a Lady familiar with the courtly grace a noble upbringing gives. Her features are young for an elf, and her face exhibits an innocence you'd not expect in a criminal marked for death. Her body is fair and attractive, she has a naturally graceful form that she is unashamed to hide. While not an overly "sexy" creature, she has an innocent form of beauty and dresses herself to accentuate her alluring features.
The slave does as she's told. When asked about her master she says she serves the mistress and how she came to work there she says the mistress asked. She seems completely serious. You can call me what you wish. You do see some blades decorating the walls but any experienced warrior can tell you that they're decorative.
Allyson raises an eyebrow at the odd response of her servant. "They have been conditioned well. This 'master' of theirs must hide many secrets to do so. The lowborn are usually the weak point of any information network, yet they can not spill secrets they do not know."
In his room
Though still injured, Lukasz felt better than he had a few hours ago. Having washed and eaten, he asks the servant, "What do you know of this Master we will be meeting with? Also, what do you know of the Mistress who had you escort me?" Once the servant answers these questions, he sends her off to pass around the goblets and wine to the others.
Heading to the meeting
Heading back downstairs to where Allyson stood, Lukasz also strikes a dramatically different figure in the clean clothing. Standing tall in his new clothing, Lukasz also had an air of aristocracy about him, his piercing eyes looking about as he stopped every once in a while to look at the decorations that hung on the wall or rested on a shelf or pedestal. Clearly no where near as lithe as Allyson, Lukasz did not have the callouses of one who was accustomed to wielding a sword, despite what experience during the prison escape demonstrated. Instead, close observation of his now clean hands saw the marks of a man accustomed to writing.
"So what do you think of all this?" he asked the new addition to the crew that fled the prison, motioning to the manor house around them, and in extension, the situation that they found themselves in.
Each person gets sent a goblet of wine. He is the master. Mistress Tiadora gives us our orders.
Allyson is perusing the room, examining the artwork the hangs with a careful eye. Her goblet of wine remains untouched, resting upon a table near the center of the room. She takes pause as she hears someone about to enter, though the tension she drew up is quickly released at the familiar face. She gives thought to his question before answering. "To be honest, I find it familiar. A house alone, far from the prying eyes and judgement of Talrian eyes. The only thing I find strange are these servants. They are adequate in the performance of their duties, but still," she pauses a moment considering how best to explain her feelings. "They feel like mannequins. People wiped of everything that makes them mortal. No name, no questions, no past, no future. I must say, it is useful, but unquestionably strange."
Having mixed the slime from the massive amphibian into a viable poison, Isabella leaves off completing the lengthy process for the growth catalyst until after the meeting. Cleaned and dressed, she quickly downs the delivered wine, pleasantly surprised by the amount of relief it provides.
Tucking her knife and the recently crafted poison on her person, Isabella gives the slaves a wary look before leaving her Nightshade cutting and the half-made plant hormone in the room. She joins the other escapees waiting for an audience with "the master;" a quiet commoner between the two aristocrats.
"I must admit that there curt answers were quite odd. Whoever this master is must have quite a hold on them to make them so." Glancing to another painting, Lukasz was about to ask the tiefling about herself when Isabella came in. Before his imprisonment, Lukasz didn't really deal with people who were not an aristocrat. However, these past few hours gave the man a new respect for the woman who had shown such ambition. To Isabella Lukasz said, "Ah, it is good to see you again. Come join us, we were just thinking on the mysterious nature of this place and its residents," Lukasz figured that it wouldn't hurt to get to know more about the people he had arrived with as he had a sneaking suspicion that they would be spending more time together.
Dexter finishes getting dressed in clothes far too fancy for his own taste.
He heads down the stairs a bit wobbly. The big man looks uncomfortable and is wincing in pain or perhaps the memory of pain.
He notes the two women downstairs dressed quite differently than they were during the prison break. "You both look lovely. Escaping from a hellish prison has done wonders for your complexions.
Any of you get a name for our benefactor?"
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Payn allows herself to be directed to a sumptuous room. She makes minor inquiries about the location and usage of certain toiletries, and then declares. "We shall begin. There will be no talking." She strips the dead guard's shirt and the rags that used to be pants from her and allows the slaves to scrub and cleanse her. Once sufficiently cleaned, she changes into clothing, headless that the cut and design are leagues better than anything she's worn in this life.
She bades oil and a whetstone be brought, then sets to work caring for the stolen blade. She drinks the wine that is brought while she works. She doesn't taste it.
When she's satisfied that the weapon will not break in the next moment, she drifts over to where the others are gathering.
"This is an unusual place. The standard of living would demand a large logistical operation. Clearly we are not dealing with a sub-normal skuldugerous operation. Try not to kill anyone here."
The last sentence seems as much spoken to herself as anyone else.
She stares at the ceiling.
Isabella glances at the fancy but otherwise unremarkable furnishings around them with a shrug. "Doesn't look too mysterious to me. As far as that lady's slaves go - Tiadora, yeah - well, I know who I'll be coming to if I'm ever in need of some agreeable assistants."
Seemingly unconcerned with the servants' demeanor or the quiet in the manor, Isabella pours herself another glass of wine from Lukasz's tray and sits on a table.
"And Dapper Dexter arrives to dole out compliments!" She greets the uncomfortable blacksmith, raising her half-full glass at his arrival and nodding to the tray Lukasz brought with him. "I don't know vintages, but I'll tell you this stuff'll make you feel better than you look right now."
Isabella shakes her head in confusion at Payn's observations. "Aye, probably best not to kill the servants here. Or their masters." She raises an eyebrow at the strange psychotic, glad to still have both poison and blade with her.
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"Incorrect," Payn says, apparently to the ceiling. "Killing the master is the one sure way to avoid repercussions. Those held in thrall by force have no internal motivation to seek retribution once another alpha supplants herself in the pecking order." Payn looks down, at Isabella. Her eyes still death-calm. "Of course the inclusion of the prefix 'attempt' would be significant. Safety would only lay down the path of assurity." She takes another goblet of wine and sips it.
She turns to Dexter. "You're not dead anymore."
Her gaze rotates up to the ceiling.
Pausing for a moment at the others' suspicion, Isabella takes another slow sip of the wine, tasting for any additives hiding behind the drink's healing properties.
Dexter greedily quaffs the swill hoping it heals him and it does.
Dex shrugs at Payn's observation, "I am not dead yet. Let's hope that is a long way off for all of us. After all, we have many people to kill before we visit our graves do we not?
Lukasz, what happened to the Ogre? I take it he covered our escape?"
Responding to Dexter, Lukasz turned from the tapestry he was looking and stated, "Yes, he did indeed. We have not seen him since leaving the prison, so I would assume that the ogre is either dead or locked back up in that place." With Payn's mention of killing people, Lukasz disapprovingly looked to the woman. He was not familiar with whoever this benefactor might be and was not sure if this person would accept any mentions of being killed while in the manor. "Yes, based on what it took to put this all together, and the interesting woman who has represented our benefactor, I would assume any attempts that are not to this master's satisfaction would be quite unsuccessful."
Tiadora comes and finds you. "Our master is ready for you." She leads you to a beautifully appointed office richly decorated with dark wood and sumptuous brocade tapestry. Sitting in a leather high-backed chair is a devilishly handsome fellow who smiles as you enter.
“I believe you to be the first to ever escape from Branderscar Prison. Well done! Of course, you had help from the outside,” he says with a wicked smile.
“But enough with the pleasantries. You must be curious why I’ve helped you. Rest assured this is no random act of altruism. I have brought you here for a reason. My name is Cardinal Adrastus Thorn. I am the last high priest of Asmodeus left on the island of Talingarde. Once the Prince of Nessus was rightly revered alongside the other great powers. Now, the king of Talingarde has become a puppet to Mitran fanatics who wish to destroy any religion that does not bow to their insipid sun god.
“Put aside forgiveness and I shall give you vengeance. Put aside mercy and be made powerful. Put aside peace and become my harbingers of war. What say you? Will you swear your allegiance or will you burn with the rest of the blind fools?”
Glancing to the others, Isabella turns to Adrastus with a gleam in her eye. She does her best to speak properly before the ranking noble, but it's clear from her tone and her words that she isn't one to maintian formalities. "You had me at 'vengeance,' there, Cardinal. Can't say I know much about war, but you've already noted our first accomplishment as a group, and I'm sure you're aware of the personal achievements that originally set us on the path to your lavish home here."
She shrugs, smiling. "I have no interest in your divine politics, but nowhere else in Talingarde will they allow me to live and study in peace - certainly they must want me to go to war, then. I also must admit that shiny and commanding mouthpiece of yours already gave me some requested materials, but if you have further scientific supplies, dare I hope even a proper laboratory that I might use, then my skills are yours to command."
His eyes shine. You'll be happy to know there is one within these walls. You may feel free to restock your supplies there.
Dexter stares at the Cardinal with an intensity the others have not seen from him before, "If you want to bring War to the Mitrans Cardinal, I shall build you weapons which shall make them rue the day they set foot upon this island. Provide me a workshop and my skills shall be yours".
Do not get ahead of yourself. Rest your mind and bod. You will have plenty of time to ply your trade on the road ahead.
He had gone into this meeting with an open mind, however, even Lukasz was surprised when the seated man introduced himself. There yet lives a high priest of the Prince of Nessus? he thought as he listened to the man's proposal. If Lukasz' survival during the prison break hadn't convinced the man that it was indeed the Lord of Hell who had been guiding him, coming across the last cardinal of his faith had certainly sealed the deal.
Becoming even more straight backed than he had been before, Lukasz bows deeply as the man spoke, rising to stnad tall again as he said, "The last I heard of other faithful of the Dark Prince, he had been captured by Mitran inquisitors and beheaded. So it is an honor to meet you Cardinal Thorn. I am recently indoctrinated to the Lord of Hell's edicts, but if you and our Lord have need of me...then I am at your disposal."
Then the former barrister looked to the others to see how they would respond. However, his mind had already begun to work, eager to see what the Cardinal had planned.
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Leekoo looked around the room in awe. This place was much shinier than his old cave! And so flammable...
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts of so many good booms...
Finally, he smacked the back of his head and turned up just in time to hear the man in the chair start talking. There were so many words coming from his mouth! He must not have written many things down if he still had so many words left in his head! 'Maybe long legs lose words from their mouths instead of writing them down?' he thought to himself. "Leekoo Weekoo want make boom. Leekoo Weekoo want boom room!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Leekoo Weekoo not care who. Leekoo Weekoo just want do!"
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Payn wanders into the room, following the others with her head still titled upward, as if scanning a far-off sky, or on the lookout for dragons in the baroque-tilled ceiling. Several times she almost bumps into a door frame, and only narrowly misses an extreme faux pas.
She breathes silently and continues to stare off, eyes wide, paying little heed to the man speaking, giving him so little attention it borders on being rude. Even his title of Cardinal does not seem to illicit any more reaction than she had given the rest of the speech.
But as he mentions who he is high priest of, she begins to stir, the body still motionless, but becoming animated, as if she were dead clay now gaining fresh life.
At his last few lines, with his declaration of intent, and request for allegience, her head angles down, down, down, until her gaze falls on him fully, like a malstrom with unusual intent. A few heartbeats pass, and elrich energy bleeds like a fog from her eyes, which narrow into slits. When she speaks, again there is no trace of the listless girl, and the voice is full-throated. Deliberate. Sexy.
"The Master of Witches already has my loyalty," she says in a voice that seems to roil and echo. "He knows he need but call upon favors rendered and my service is but his to throw away. If ye are who you say you are, then know that I have not forgiveness nor mercy to put aside, for those are as foreign to me as ice upon the Plane of Fire. As for peace..." she smirks and chuckles, a deep-voiced thing that sounds like rocks being broken upon upon an infinite sheet of iron, "...peace is a flavor I shall never taste again.
But be warned, Cardinal Adrastus Thorn, high priest of Asmodeus. Upon the word, I am no harbinger. I am become War itself."
As the words themselves have drained her, her body again becomes slack, and her eyes widen, returning to their dead stare. Again the voice of the helpless girl speaks out. "I'll need a better sword. Can master Dex please make me a better sword?"
Her head lowers, the neck no longer able to support the weight. She stares at the floor, first at her right foot, then at the left.
Equipment will be provided for all of you. Tiasdora will speak to all of you on this matter later.
And our Goblin friend will have plenty of chances to cause mayhem.
Allyson is likely the least interested of what she is hearing, but a few key words peak her interest. "You offer vengeance and power. What is it that you can do to make me more powerful?" Her tone is formal and reserved, without a hint of either placating or insulting her host.
What I have already done of course. I've given you your freedom through opprtunity and resources. Without those no person can increase their power.
"Fair enough. You've bought my freedom and given coin. I will work for you until I have repaid those favors at least." Though she remains polite, her dissatisfaction with that answer simmers under a practiced smile.
Adrastus looks over you. Excellent. Then let us make it official.
He pulls two contracts written in red ink, a quill and silver dagger out of his robes. The contracts are written on unusual pieces of leather. I believe signing in blood is traditional. He smiles. Tiadora bring us a bowl.
She brings one to him. He takes the knife and slices his palm squeezing his blood into the bowl. He passes the bowl and knife to the villainous group.
Remembering the lessons he received from Darnigan on contracts, Lukasz nods. Taking the blade and bowl, Lukasz presses the blade lightly into his palm to draw out just enough blood for the contract with a squeeze of his fist, adding his blood to the bowl. Once finished he says, "Of course, I would like to review the contract before I add my signature."
A pit starts to grow in Allyson's stomach. She starts to speak gently, "With all due respect Cardinal, I do not know if I can agree to this. I deeply appreciate my freedom, but I am a swordsman. All I want from this life is to hone my skills and prove myself against the great swordsmen of this fair country. I have my qualms about this countries laws, especially the ignorance that put me in those shackles, but I could not care less who people choose to worship." Even as she spoke, Allyson approaches the contract, carefully reading each word, worried about what this man wants her to agree to.
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As the dagger makes an appearance, Payn unwraps the rags around her wrist--it's more efficient to open an old cut than make a new one. She seems to feel rational right now.
She keeps quiet and makes ready to wait her turn patiently...until Ally, the swordswoman, speaks.
Payn's head slowly turns in her direction. The eyes narrow, ever so slightly. "Honey, dear, that sounds like...heresy. Are you a dirty, dirty heretic? Say it isn't so! Surely the wine must've gone to your head? Recant your words and let us be as sisters in blood!"
Payn waits to see how Cardinal Adrastus Thorn, high priest of Asmodeus, reacts to this. This is a test of his will. How will he react to an unbeliever? It would be weak to speak so openly of The Dark Prince and then let a heretic spit on him in his own house. Meh. If he is weak then he'll need to be supplanted...eventually.
Andrastus's eyes flash in anger at being questioned but his tone is calm. Consider if you will. The Asmodean church flourished on this isle for centuries. It was only because house Darius turned against us that we are in such dire straights. Even then we practiced in private for years hurting no one. It is only because the Zealous chose to make our church a scapegoat that this happens. He blamed us for the actions of King Marcadian the third, he turned the Talireans against us and murdered the followers of Asmodeus.
You may of course refuse to sign, but then you'd be of no use to me. You'd leave this place without resources, but for what you carried in on your back, you'd be hunted, with no food, no rest, you'd most likely be taken down by recruits who bested you only through numbers.
But if you stay, you'll be among the front line of a war that will pit you against the greatest warriors Talingarde has to offer. The choice is yours.
K.History or K.Nobility check to learn more about the Asmodean purges or king Markadian the Zealous.
After watching Lukasz closely, Isabella takes the knife and bowl from him, following the lawyer's lead. Flipping the blade in her hand, she slices the same forearm holding it over the bowl. After draining an amount of blood close to Lukasz's practiced estimation, Isabella places the knife across the edge of the bowl.
"While worship may often require that you serve," She says calmly as she quickly binds the self-inflicted wound, glancing once to Lukasz. "A state of servitude itself does not necessitate worship." She speaks as an instructor dealing patiently with a slow student.
Turning to Payn, she holds out the bowl, knife resting across the top.
"As I said, I don't much care who people choose to worship either. The denial of progress, however; the rejection of knowledge deemed too dark; these prohibitive strictures on power - these are things I cannot abide. I will certainly agree that the rot of stagnation fermented by these Mitrans has spread far enough."
She turns to Allyson, eyeing the Tiefling's inhuman features with a look of amused curiosity "It's a good principle, though - distrusting Devils, Hellspawn, & the folks that call them allies."
All of us in desperate need of allies in this world, likely none more than that unholy bastard, and she's the most hesitant.. swordsman, huh..?
Dexter allows Isabella to pass the knife to him. He pricks his fingertip and uses his thumb to sign his name to the contract.
"I never read these damn things so let's get on with this already. We cannot get something for nothing. Service for power and influence and yes vengeance seems an appropriate exchange to me".
Allyson listens intently at the Cardinals word. A shiver of excitement, starting at her tail and coarse up her spine and through her whole body at his words. "Bring me the swordsman of Talingarde and I shall cut them down one by one, until there is no one left to oppose your ambition." Allyson takes the knife clinching it tightly as she cuts her flesh. "I will spill this blood for you. In turn, you grant me the power to ensure this be the only my enemies blood is spilt from now on."
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Payn takes the knife and slides it slowly, deliberately...sensually across her wrist. As the blood drips down her wrist she takes a moment to silently spasm, embracing the pain, feeling it, experiencing it, tasting it.
Re-wrapping her wrist she beams a great smile of cherry ice cream as Allyson voices her support. Payn shares a look with the cardinal, gives him a brief wink of compatriots sharing an inside joke.
Payn walks up to Allyson, touches her shoulder with a single finger. Purrs out, "There. Doesn't feel good, to be on the winning side?"
She walks away. "Can we get started or do you have more useless paperwork for us to fill out?"
It's unclear if she doesn't know the power of a contract signed in blood or just doesn't care.
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As the others started cutting themselves and saying pretty words, Leekoo just hissed as the written word was shown to them. "Leekoo Weekoo doesn't read! Leekoo Weekoo has no need!" he exclaimed as he grabbed the blade and bowl. Cutting the length of his arm and spilling the blood into the bowl to mix with the others, he added, "Leekoo Weekoo give up red. Leekoo Weekoo make guys dead."
Andrastus watches the blood mingle together binding the signees to each other. Dexter jumps the gun signing the oath with a finger and without the blood of all involved. He hands the quill to the group a!used at Dexter's overeager actions.
The contracts, contracting harder!
His mind pondering the Cardinal's words, Lukasz thinks for a moment to see if he recalls anything about the time he mentioned as he perused the contract.
Succinct and comprehensive enough to protect the heirarchy. I shall need to be on the look out for opportunities, Lukasz though to himself. Nodding in satisfaction after reading the contract, Lukasz takes the offered quill, dipping the point expertly into the pool of blood before signing his name neatly on the contract, his penmanship impeccable.
Dexter grins back at the Cardinal, "Ah, pen, I get it now..."
Skimming over the contract, Isabella glances around to the others, gaze lingering for a moment on Payn. Looks like I'll be stuck with these dangerous layabouts for some time. Hopefully that one's blood oath is stronger than her bloodlust. The former physician signs the contract with the group's blood, her name little better than red chicken scratch on the parchment.
Allyson hesitates once more seeing Payn sign the contract, but she reminders herself that the moment Payn violates it, the contract states Allyson's loyalty can end. Knowing this Allyson looks forward to the day she get to help Payn to her torment in Hell unending. She takes up the pen and in a formal showing signs her name. Allyson, former heir of house Zoran, now Forsaken, known as Allister the Red Devil. Her eyes rise to meet the Cardinal's, "I assume that will suffice?"
Andrastus reads your signature. As soon as your last compatriot signs, or in his case makes his mark. Bind yourself to the others my minion. Put your blood to the contract.
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Leekoo took the offered pen and just looked at it for a moment. Glancing up at the others with his head tilted to the side, he finally put pen to paper...
...and drew a crude goblin face where the others put their names. "Leekoo Weekoo not lose words. Leekoo Weekoo smart like birds!" he said with a firm nod as the paper made it's way back to the church man.
Andrastus dismisses you. Tiadora comes forth. Your day has been a long and hard one. Please, rest and relax, food is waiting for you in your rooms, and if you see one of the servants that interests you, please enjoy their company during your stay here
Bowing in response to being dismissed, Lukasz then listened tiredly to Tiadora's words. With the events of the past day now behind him, Lukasz was ready to give in to his exhaustion. Feeling spent, Lukasz' mind nonetheless continued to race. He wasn't one to not know what he would be doing the next day. So before heading to dinner and bed Lukasz said, "Thank you, Tiadora. What can we expect for tomorrow?"
She smiles at you cryptically. Rest my dearest. Just rest.
Nodding curtly and bidding the mysterious woman good night, Lukasz will be sure to distribute the gold that had come with the magical veil equally among Dexter, Isabella, and Leekoo. Then he bids everyone else a good night before heading to his room to enjoy dinner and hopefully a full night's rest.
As they are escorted back, Allyson will ask the woman. "The servants in your employ, may I ask their story? The one I have seems so, peculiar. I can not even get a name out of her."