"Very considerate of you, my son."
Spectrum was in his workshop speaking with his dragons.
"I am going to have to go away for a while. It will be dangerous. I would like you both to stay here to protect Amieko."
Array rolled his eyes, a gesture he'd definitely picked up from Spectrum.
Amieko will be fine. We are going with you.
Yeah!
Spectrum sighed. He knew he wasn't going to win this argument.
"Fine. We are going to have to do some training then. Follow me."
Is there still going to be a party? I want a party.
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The sky darkens the morning the group has decided to leave. Passage has been booked on a small trading caravan heading to Magnimar in the evening, with warm if rocking beds offered in return for guard duty should the group be attacked.
Eventually, one of you speaks to Sheriff Hemlock. You might not tell him about what you've discovered, the conspiracy you fear you might unearthed. But even if all you say is that you are heading to Magnimar, he offers the same advice. "Might have a contact for you. Iomedaean, Kejal. Been working in the city recently, tracing some deaths as a favor for Haldmeer, the Lord-Mayor. Check with the temple, might help."
With funds accumulated and a metropolis on the path ahead, Father Zantus personally oversees his acolytes applying fresh preservative wrappings to Chaise's body, muttering a prayer over his still chest. "Speak with Mother Mulquist of the Pharasman Temple of the Sainted Grave, near the Alabaster district. Pass my regards, if you would." He bows his head a little to Isme. "My priests will see Sir Chaise safely aboard the caravan tonight, with the dignity he deserves."
Spectrum thanked the Sheriff and wrote down a few notes. His belongings were packed and waiting by the front door of the Rusty Dragon ready to be loaded onto the caravan. Array was sleeping on top of Spectrum's trunk.
Glimmer wasn't sleeping at all. She was flitting around in distractable excitement, telling everyone who would listen all about how excited she was and asking questions about what Magnimar was like.
Spectrum spent the rest of the evening writing out a will, leaving the vast majority of his personal belongings to Amieko, his collection of antiquities to the Sandpoint library.
This had been his home for some time now. He was going to miss it.
Wyam awoke early the morning they had set off to leave. The light from the overcast morning clouds were darkened even more through the shutters of the window, off only the lightest change of light as he slid out of the bed he'd been renting from the Rusty Dragon Inn.
Slowly, the light began to slightly brighter in the room as he dressed and readied the last of his possessions for the trip ahead. He opened the shutters and could now see the town in the early morning. Only a few townsfolk were up now, mostly farmers coming into town and setting up their market wagons as well as a few of the more robust shop owners, just beginning to start their day to day activities.
Good, they deserve it. Wyam thought to himself.
With everything that happened since the Goblin raid; Thistletop, Tsuto's attempt to capture Ameiko, the murders from the Ghouls, then Aldern and the entirety of the Foxglove estate, these people have earned their peace.
Wyam let a wide smile come onto his face. All in all the town was quiet, there was no longer a sense of tension in the air. It was once again peaceful.
He let himself enjoy the moment a while longer before deciding it was time to get going. He went down the first floor and spoke a few words with Ameiko as he had a light meal made for himself before getting several sliced apples for Fearghus. Heading to the stables he readied his trusted companion's saddle bags.
"Well big guy, this town is safe now. I think it's time you and I get a move on. Other places need our help. This time we're heading to a big city and I'll need you to be on your best behavior." Fearghus responded with a light snort and began eagerly tamping his foot. Wyam smiled and scratched behind his ears.
Later as the three met up with the traveling caravan to Magnimar, Wyam nodded to the Sheriff.
"Thank you for the advice Sheriff, we'll meet with this Kejal. I should let you know though before we leave, we may have stumbled upon something at the Foxglove Manor. It seems as though Aldern became what he did because of a woman named Xenesha who is located in Magnimar. There was also mention of a group called the Brotherhood of the Seven, but there was evidence pointing that while they were affiliated with Aldern, they had finished whatever business was being conducted. This Xanesha seemed to be working on her own.
I do not believe this trouble will come back to be problematic for you, regardless how it turns out. But just in case it may be wise to be wary of any Caravans from Magnimar."
Isme bows her head back to Father Zantus. "Thank you. I appreciate what you've done."
She turns to look back at Chaise's body as it is carried away, a pensive look on her face. The raven is equipped for the journey, now covered in a light armor and carrying a small leather bag on her back. She now looked conspicuous which had both advantages and disadvantages, especially in a city as large as Magnimar. She becomes more memorable, unable to be mistaken for an ordinary bird, but her company should be enough to divert attention and make them think she was a trained animal companion.
So different she looks now, she feels now. She couldn't help but wonder what Chaise would think... Eventually, she shakes her head.
She made her choices. It was time to see where they would lead.
Hemlock nods, and promises to keep an eye on any Magnimarians visiting the city.
Eventually, the sun's edges kiss the horizon, and the caravan prepares to leave. Ameiko comes out to see Spectrum off, stalking in a few generic well-wishes before giving him a crushing hug.
The journey is made brief by its boredom. No goblin hordes swamp its wheels, no bandit archers fire shafts through windows and wood-slits. The Varisian coastline is calm beneath winter's cold blanket. The only moment a frisson of excitement runs through the less-experienced of the caravan comes at its end, at the sight of noble Magnimar.
City of Monuments, the sheer bulk of its relic buildings draw the eye before any of the life of a metropolis can. An immense, half-fallen bridge making a stern path into the bay before eventually giving out; and an immense limestone cliff bisecting the city, uncountable ladders and stairways rich and poor criss-crossing along it. Atop you see the spires and tiled roofs of the wealthy and powerful; below, mostly the thatch and missing tiles of those who work hard each day for their daily bread.
The caravan pulls itself into the city without incident; the guards seem businesslike, though a little paranoid; oddly for guards, their fear seems directed towards the city rather than without. In an hour or so, the caravan is safely stowed, and the city lies open to you all.
"The church first." Spectrum said after they'd gotten a room at a halfway decent inn. "I have only been here once before, and the stay was brief. A guide would be helpful."
The Magnimarian economy proves itself misfiring enough to provide a surplus of kids eager for a few coppers in return for direction around the city. A coin or two gone, and you swiftly find yourself before a temple to Iomedae. Oddly enough for most churches of the greater gods, this one was not purpose-built. It seems to be an old barracks, a housing-place for armed men. Carved Iomedae sword and suns augment its walls and doorways. The rattle of sword-drills echo through the building like purposeful bells.
A woman in cleric's clothes washes her hands and feet precisely in a fountain out front of the building. She looks up, and in a businesslike tone asks, "Welcome to the Church. Your business?"
"We seek a member of your order named Kejal." Spectrum said.
She nods, and gives you directions to her room. You follow them, find it and knock.
Kejal quietly opens the door, stepping back slightly as she does so. The room she's in is small and remarkably bare, featuring a bed (which is little more than a cot), a small chest at the foot of the cot, and a small table with a few books on it.
There is an open notebook on the bed where it appears that Kejal had been writing before the interruption. On the opposite side of the room is a plain mat, recognisable as being both for meditation as well as exercise.
Kejal herself is dressed in simple robes, and standing barefoot on the stone floor. Standing shorter than both Spectrum and Wyam, she slightly looks up to meet their eyes. To Spectrum, she probably looks to be on the young side (at least compared to him), but her eyes give away that she has seen quite a bit.
Under her long, silver hair, her skin is not exactly tanned, but almost golden in appearance, and her eyes shine like jewels. Feathered wings that seem incapable of carrying her protrude from her back.
While her smile and tone are polite, her eyes are suspicious as they flick between the group's members. "...Can I help you with something?"
Wyam adjusted himself into a slightly more relaxed posture. He hadn't been sure what to expect, but upon seeing Kejal dressed so simply, he felt slightly over prepared wandering about in his armor.
He politely nodded to her. "First, let me introduce myself. I am Wyam Marshal, and these two are my companions. Sir Spectrum and Lady Isme. We were directed to you from Sheriff Hemlock of Sandpoint. Sounds as though you were working for Lord-Mayor Haldmeer, tracking down some recent deaths in the city. As a matter of circumstance we just happen to have some recent experience in that area as well." he finished with a knowing expression.
"We have some business in this city that our prior circumstances have led us to. Having someone familiar with and quite possibly looking into the same troubles we are could be beneficial for both sides."
He smiled. "And for what it's worth, it's nice to meet a fellow Iomadaen."
Kejal smiles back, genuinely, and looks quite relieved at Wyam's admission of religion. "Oh, please come in." She takes another step back, and invites them into the room, closing the door behind them.
Making no comment about the lack of places to sit, she simply jumps into the conversation. "Hemlock, of course." She nods. "I'm afraid I don't know very much... A lot of suspicions and mysteries." With a brief pause for a sigh, she continues. "I'd be happy to tell you about it, though I have to ask - what is it you've seen recently that's lead you here? So far as I know, our murders have been contained. Certainly not reaching out as far as Sandpoint."
"Well as you can imagine we had some time to think about this during our journey here. Not long ago in Sandpoint, there was a man named Aldern Foxglove, he'd been part of a noble family in the area until some twenty years ago when a tragedy struck and only he and his younger sisters survived the destruction of their manor. He had supposedly returned recently to renovate the manor house, but in actuality he'd returned as part of some plot with an infection to that would turn him into a powerful Undead.
We had no idea at the time and even met him on more than one occasion before we made the discovery. He then began sending Ghouls to cause trouble for Sandpoint. Several murders were carried out before we could stop them and found clues pointing us in the direction of Foxglove Manor.
We arrived at the ruined manor house and searched all throughout it and we discovered the entire area to be covered with Haunts as well as more than a few Undead. I could go into more detail but I'll cover the most important bits.
Aldern's father Vorel was apparently a practitioner of dark magic and had attempted a liching ritual, but something went horribly wrong and instead he was turned into something truly awful. We discovered that Aldern himself had become a Dread Ghast, but what's more he'd developed several split personalities. We were able to learn from the one claiming to be the original Aldern that he was involved with an organization known as the Brotherhood and more recently with a woman named Xanesha. We found a note stating she knew what was happening to him and that he had her blessing to carry out a ritual involving the murders that had occurred."
Wyam took a moment to collect himself
"As if things weren't strange enough already, somehow this as well as other troubles facing Sandpoint all revolve around something to do with an ancient symbol called a Sihedron rune. Spectrum and Isme can explain more about that. The only real lead we came here with was that Aldern has a townhouse and it's being watched by Xenesha's agents in case he forgot about the ritual in some way. What's more is that she serves some higher power itself." he sighed.
Kejal listens attentively to Wyam's story, finding it interesting but not seeing any kind of connection to the murders that she had been investigating herself. Before she can say that aloud, however, Wyam goes on to mention the Sihedron rune. Narrowing her eyes in thought for a second, Kejal quickly flips her notebook to a page where she'd scrawled a seven-sided star that she'd seen carved into some of the corpses. "This?" she asks, showing it off.
As the stories begin to coincide, she sighs and looks down for a second. Raising her head, she unconsciously pushes her bangs behind her pointed ears. "I was starting to think there was a conspiracy because of the varied murders. Politicians, merchants, some guards I'd suspect were... less than virtuous."
"What you're describing is so much more than I could have dreamed, though. Undead? an organisation called the Brotherhood? This woman, Xanesha, serving some unknown god?" She pauses for a moment. "I know that Magnimar is not exactly a small city, but what you're describing... It's hard to believe."
"Still, as long as you don't get me into trouble with the authorities, I welcome the assistance." She throws a wry smile. "I still have to live here, you know. So, Lieutenant? Or is it Captain? Any ideas on where to start?"
Wyam looked at Kejal's notebook, instantly recognizing the rine she had drawn before nodding.
"That's the one."
He listened to her describe her end of the events she had been dealing with and was relieved at Kejal's understanding of the story he had told.
"I'm glad of your acceptance of what we're dealing with and for your cautionary regard for the city we're in. I have no intention of having the authorities turn against us." he began a moment before pondering. "Given what we've said, one could hardly blame you. Were our roles reversed I would find it difficult to believe too."
He paused a moment, a grin coming over his expression. "Captain, huh? I never really figured myself for much of a leader, but I suppose there is something to being in the militant arm of Iomadae's church. I guess I could take a shot at it.
He nodded to Spectrum and Isme. "Well this meeting is going much faster and smoother than I could have hoped for. But so far our evidence is coincidental at best. Authoritive figures within the church may be slightly more inclined to believe our story and act because of our disposition." he indicated himself and Kejal. "But the most solid pieces of evidence are what we've gathered from Sandpoint. It could be easily be seen as a seperate event. We need to collect more solid pieces of evidence within this city first."
He held up a hand and began tapping the table. "Now fortunately we have an initial lead at Aldern Foxglove's townhouse, as I've said. But before we plan for that, we have a more personal piece of business to attend to."
"A companion of ours and Lady Isme's former Master perished during a particularly brutal fight at Thistletop. We have come here with the necessary arrangements made to revive him. He may be quite knowledegable. Once we have seen to him we move on to the next step of our plan. We need to head to the Pharasman church in the Alabaster district. Do you know the way?"
Wyam stopped to clear his throat before pulling out his waterskin and taking a small drag off of it.
"I'm no Lady," Isme says, her voice filled with dry humor. She nods to Kejal. "A pleasure to meet you. Just call me by my name. I'm sure you'll adjust quickly to addressing a bird but try not to talk to me too much when we're out in crowds. I'd rather not attract attention."
She extends a wing towards Kejal's clothes. "You might like to prepare to head out first. And yes, I'd like to attend to Chaise's body first. I haven't checked on how much longer the preservation magic on his bindings will last and I don't want to leave him unattended too long."
Spectrum was a stoic elf wearing white. He seemed content to let Wyam handle the introductions and explanations. He wore a leather pauldron and a hawker's glove, but rather than a bird on his shoulder or arm, instead he had two small dragons.
"I have done as much research on the Sihedron rune as I was able to in Sandpoint." he said after being introduced. "It is Thassilonian, but the details of how it links these atrocities, or why, has yet eluded us."
Crusader Kejal does prove to know the way, as the reinvigorated party heads out into the busy Magnimarian streets after retrieving Chaise's body; Spectrum and Wyam solemnly carry its wrapped and symbol-daubed form atop a stretcher between them. A few back-alleys eventually lead you to the immense cliff that divides Magnimar. After a lengthy and punishing stair-climb, you may look back to observe the residences and counting-houses of tens of thousands of souls spread out along the ground behind you. Looking forward, you enter a gated community for the rich and powerful. A temple to Pharasma sits along its edge, half within its marble walls and half without. The Mother of Souls' solemn sigil marks it above.
Sitting on a bench against a wall in the immense courtyard, a blind man does not shift as he hears your arrival. "Greetings, children. What brings you to the Lady of Graves?"
"A fallen companion we would see returned to life." Spectrum said.
"I see, child. If he soul still has business on this mortal earth, I'm sure the Lady will see him safely return't." He taps a staff against the wall, and summons two acolytes. "Bring your friend in." The acolytes take the stretcher, and take you in to a small private room, a mixture of waiting room and morgue, cold marble slabs juxtaposed with clean orange lamps and a plain, warm blue rug covering the floor.
After a few more minutes, an aged woman in white Pharasman robes enters, a heavy burn scar across her cheek and neck. "Visitors; welcome. I am told my power is needed. May I inspect him? Do you have the necessary donation?"
"That we do, m'lady. Reagents and all. Please feel free to inspect Chaise as you see fit."
The woman nods, and steps carefully over to the wrapped body. Pulling out a small blade, she cuts open Chaise's wrappings, revealing the body. Despite the long weeks since his death, he remains in remarkable condition; his skin has only a hint of pallor, his hands and lips are unmarked. The strongest change is a harsh tint of steel-grey at the ends of his long black hair.
Pulling a tiny engraved box from her robes, the woman opens it, revealing a chunk of diamond the size of her thumbnail. Bright lights cascade through it, throwing flickers across the room. She rests it atop his forehead, and grips his hand gently. She closes her eyes. "Pharasma, Lady of Graves, return this soul to mortal soil... Pharasma, Lady, of Graves, return this soul to mortal soil..." A solemn minute passes, tension rising until she suddenly concludes chanting, the diamond sinking into his forehead and vanishing. Chaise's body remains unmoving still, pale and dead. The woman turns to you, a look of mild disappointment across her face-
Chaise spasms and falls off the slab, breath and eyes wild and crazed as he looks around in shock, clasping at his wrappings for warmth.
"Where—" Chaise begins to say before he bends over on the floor in a coughing fit. His memory is fuzzy, quite unlike the sharpness he's trained his mind for. He was... in a dungeon, yes, but his memory is a blur, the details lost to him. A feeling comes to him, like he had been waiting, waiting for a long time, but where it came from or why is a forgotten dream. His body feels weak, shivering, and the spells he had prepared had either slipped away from his mind or had became unfathomable to him.
He glances around, seeing an unfamiliar place, unfamiliar faces, the symbol of Pharasma, ad his companions changed, subtly older, different, the addition of scars. He sees the slab he had fallen off of. Despite the sluggishness of his thoughts, he's coherent enough to figure out he had died.
He takes a few deep breaths, head bowed down a moment to gather himself, before looking up. "What happened?"
Kejal smiles at Isme's statement about her clothes. "You're a quick judge, little bird." She replies, good-naturedly. "it just so happens that I am nearly ready to go." Quickly picking up a satchel and tossing it over her shoulder (mindful of her wings), she pulls open the door for the others. She nods to Isme's armour as they begin to leave. "Don't you find it restricting? Not to mention conspicuous..."
Through the walk to the temple, Kejal is quiet, lost in her own thoughts. She understood too well the feeling of having lost someone, but at the same time, she had trouble with the idea of bringing them back to life. Part of her wondered, if she'd known such things were possible when Chatka died, would she have tried to bring her back? It troubled her to not know the answer.
Despite assurances that she was more than welcomed inside the room , Kejal opted to wait outside. She figured that either they would need time to mourn, or they would need time to reconnect. Plus, the notion of seeing such a heinous act did not sit right with her. "Dead is dead." she muttered to herself, more than once. Certainly she'd seen undead before, but that was kind of her point. Nothing came back the same as it went. "He can't come back the same." She tells herself, as she paces back and forth in the hallway, waiting for the news.
"Chaise, welcome back. I don't know if you recall who I am, but to reiterate, my name is Wyam Marshal." he said, extending a hand to help the man off the floor. "To be completely honest, I wasn't sure we'd ever be able to talk to one another again after you fell."
He glanced over to Isme. "You've uh, missed quite a few things in your absence. I'll tell you all about it, but maybe we'll get you some proper clothing and food first."
"I know who you are," Chaise says dryly, taking Wyam's offered hand to stand while making sure the wrappings covered his modesty. "I can guess what's occurred since. From your current wear, you're probably in the middle of something. I can—" he breaks into a coughing fit "—can wait. I don't feel exactly pleasant here."
Chaise looks at Isme, feeling the bond between them missing. He tilts his head then smiles, indicating they would talk about it later.
"Do what you have to. I'll be fine. I need some time to myself to gather my thoughts anyway."
"I can only imagine. Returning to life is something not many can claim that. We actually have already prepared some magics to help get you back on your feet faster."
"It is good to have you back." Spectrum said with an uncharacteristically warm smile. "Take all the time you need. We will explain the whole situation later."
Chaise nods hesitantly, then is helped from the room by the mother. She turns her head; "We'll take care of him for the day and the night, ensure no deathly taints afflict him. Give him our prayers and rites. Come see him tomorrow." They leave.
Wyam focused his attention back to the group before him as the Pharasman's left with Chaise to help him recover. "Now that our personal business is tended to, on to more pressing matters.
Aldern Foxglove's townhouse is likely to be lightly observed by either some followers of Xanesha who may know what he looks like, or at least some hired hands to watch in case of someone coming to his home. Given the apparent economical situation of this town there would be no shortage of people looking to make some easy coin."
As they began making their way out of the immediate temple grounds he continued.
"Three strangers and a well equipped Raven showing up and suddenly investigating his house could easily draw us some unwanted attention. I certainly am not unobtrusive, and from what we know they are likely serving an entity that is opposed to the worship of Iomadae. That might let them know something went wrong with Aldern's side of things."
Wyam looked pensive as they made their way out to the steps of the temple, an idea clearly forming in his mind.
"Depending on what we find at the townhouse, we may actually want or need to draw their attention. Spectrum, do you remember when Aldern invited us here to do some hunting? What if we were to go to the townhouse looking like we'd accepted his invitation?! We'd have to look the part of course, but I believe that my youthful training at my uncles estate may actually be of some use in this regard."
He stopped and regarded the others to see what they thought of his plan.
Spectrum nodded slowly. "Hunting... Why not?"
Wyam nodded.
"Kejal, you know this city best. Where would you find an upscale tailor at this hour?"
While pleased to hear their friend has recovered, Kejal finds herself relieved as well that he wasn't joining them for the first leg of their journey. If indeed he came back twisted - or something else came into his body - it would be better to find out at a less crucial time.
When Wyam presents his plan, it brings an impressed smile to Kejal's face. "It's a good plan. Saves the awkwardness of the group of us showing up aggressively." She cocks her head, frowning slightly. "But... Aldern doesn't know me, and extended no such invitation. Would he mind, or think something is amiss if I were there?"
Wyam smiled realizing the mistake.
"I see where your confusion is coming from. Aldern was alone in Sandpoint when he made that offer to us. He... well he was slain at the Manor after becoming an abomination and I believe he did not have the resources necessary to inform Xanesha on his own. Given the instructions to return here that were left to him should something go wrong."
Remembering his last foray into drunkenness during the celebration in Sandpoint, Spectrum winced, rubbing his hand over his newly shaved head.
"I am not much good at pretending, and drink makes me... volatile."
Oblivious to the shaven-headed monstrous doppelganger which had entered their midst, the group pass the time until nightfall first resting from the road, then following Kejal on a short visit to the city's great monuments; the Arch of Aroden, the palace of justice. Eventually, night and moonlight comes, and the group head their way to Aldern's townhouse, stopping around the corner, looking towards it.
The building itself is three stories tall. Boards have been nailed over the windows on the ground floor It sits three storeys tall with a small yard, and a large fountain out front. Guards patrol occasionally in this, one of the city's richer neighborhoods.
Isme waits, looking for an appropriate perch to hide and observe. "I don't think I should go with you. A raven is not exactly something drunks would have with them."