Isme moves to the corner of the room, in sight of the cloud and the cultists. Silently, and not announcing her presence, she begins work in dismantling the elf's defenses.
Isme's head turns to Spectrum and shifts the threads of chance in his favor, her beak opening and crooning a haunting melody that fills the room which somehow reinforces her work.
Between retches, the elf speaks. "Brothers... join me, or join our lord's offal trenches; he will accept no alternative!" He moves to the other side of the cloud, and the rest of the cultists join him.
Suddenly, a high-pitched feminine voice comes out from beyond the smoke. "Sir... sirs!" between retches, she speaks. "P-please don't hurt me! They took me, these vile men took me!" Around the edges of the smog, you can peer through and see a halfling woman with hands bound behind her back in poor dress, lying on the floor, coughing.
Taking a deep breath and trusting in his own constitution, Wyam charges headlong into the fog to protect the woman in distress.
"I'll only need a moment." he says to Spectrum before he begins to move.
Charging through the nauseous fog, the valiant Wyam grabs the stricken woman and hoists her up on his shoulders... only for her form to ripple away, revealing an orange-clad cultist, razor raised. "Surprise!" a grinning voice snarls.
Following the script the cultist had prepared perfectly, Wyam could only grit his teeth and look up with a look of disappointed understanding as he knew he had no more time to react with.
"Spectrum, it was a trick!" he said dejectedly.
"So I gathered. Incoming." Spectrum said blithely, releasing the energies he'd been holding.
Wyam wasn't entirely sure when it was coming, focused as he was on the cultist in his arms, but he heard the explosion behind him and he dodged instinctively but the power behind the fire was considerably more than he expected. His divine protection took the edge off somewhat but he still found himself engulfed in flames and in serious amounts of pain.
One by one, the orange-robed cultists curl up and die as Spectrum's burst of fire fills the room until all that surrounds the elf is smoking ash. Coughing from having dodged the worst of it, he hoarsely cries "No... no... for my Lady, you will not see my end this day!"
"That's correct." Kejal replies coolly. "I already told you, you're under arrest."
Kejal approaches the man calmly, and begins laying some hits into opportune places to weaken him - primarily joints and pressure points. "It's not that I don't trust you," she adds. "It's just that you've betrayed all of our people."
Striding through the fire, Kejal's holy fortitude lets her ignore the worst of its noxious vapors. She aims a hard punch at his chest, which drives him to the ground, unconscious.
At the defeat of their leader, the remaining cultists look at each other and throw down their blades. One mutters "Knew this would happen... wait out the enchantment you said, it'll be alright you said" to another.
Isme waits until the smoke dissipates before flapping over to Wyam's shoulder, humming a soothing tune that gathered magical energy, guiding it through Wyam's body to numb the pain and heal most of his burns.
"That went rather well," Isme said, ignoring Wyam's self-brought situation. She kept a sharp eye on the remaining cultists. "I'd rather interrogate them here and now but I know some of you might prefer heading to the authorities first."
Spectrum eyes Wyam's burns clinically after the terrible fog had dissipated.
"I was of the impression that you have a measure of resistance to flame?"
Wyam looked at Spectrum with a confused expression. "Well that's just the thing. I do have some limited divine measure of protection from flames. I can put my hand in a fire and pick up most heated objects just fine now. I know because it did help just for a moment, but even though I was prepared for your spell I was not able to dodge it in time and it completely overwhelmed my seemingly meager protection. Your spell fire was just far more dangerous than I was expecting."
"Apologies. I am glad you are alright."
Nodding at Spectrum's apology, Wyam glared at the remaining Cultists who had surrendered.
"A decent first step... but Iomadae help me if you even begin to think that'll be enough to atone for what you've done here!
Spectrum, Isme, suss out if what they say about this enchantment is true. Then secure this place for whatever they have stashed away." he said harshly to the two.
"Unfortunately for all of you, you're at the bad end of good luck tonight as I've had my patience and mercy stretched very thin. Unholy symbols on the ground now! You will remain silent unless I speak to you directly."
Without looking away from the ones who surrendered, Wyam spoke to Kejal. "Kejal, you're familiar with their leader. Pat him down for evidence then help me in securing the prisoners. " With that, Wyam moved forward to begin securing the first of their prisoners.
Unholy symbols of Norgorber are produced, and set aside next to each of them. They fall to the ground on their knees, hands on the floor. Their posture denotes little more than sullenness.
Kejal searches Ironbriar.
"What enchantment?" Spectrum said with an arched eyebrow. The elf had an impressive memory, but wasn't always the best at paying attention. "Did I miss something?"
Two of the cultists hesitate, looking at eachother. Grudgingly, one of them speaks. "...Ironbriar. Our leader... he's had a charm on him, a compulsion, a control, these past weeks. It was obvious, how he talked, his mad eyes. We just decided to wait it out, wait for him to throw it off... we didn't know who did it, someone said something about a Clocktower once, but otherwise..."
Isme tries to sense the truth of the cultists' words.
Nevertheless, a quick check on Ironbriar would see if they were speaking the truth or not.
Wyam eyed the symbols with a look of disdain.
Norgorber huh? Tell me, this enchantment to make him act differently. I suspect he didn't change too much, but how has he exactly has he changed. Is he simply more aggressive? Did your activities become less circumspect? Also tell me, what business did you have with Aldern Foxglove? I know he visited you some time ago."
Norgorber is the only evil deity among those once-humans who undertook the Test of the Starstone. He is patron of thievery, assassination and secrets, an engima to all.
"...he gets... visions. Or so he says. He used to refer to them, but they got rather more... literal... and prevalent... recently. The charm made us wonder if they weren't coming from Father Skinsaw, from Norgorber; if they were... from someone else."
"Aldern? One of the noblemen we blackmail; I believe his debt was cancelled? Something about finding other payment? I don't know what."
"Hmm. Well we may just have to wake him up from these visions if we can. Perhaps he could tell us more about whoever it was that got him with the enchantment spell."
As he spoke Wyam pulled out a potion from his bag. But he held back for a moment to see if anyone would suggest a different course of action.
Isme stares ominously at Ironbriar before a cackling song bursts from her throat, slowly transitioning into an ominous chant, the area around them becoming heavy with truth.
"What..." Ironbriar slowly recovers, looking around. "You! The Father will see your skins pierced with splinters, your hearts embedded on spears of the righteous unholy!" Hes truggles with his bonds.
"Oh, I am quite certain he will try." Spectrum mused. "If you want that to happen, you'll need to tell us where we can find him, so that we can march straight to our doom."
Spectrum squinted. "Ah. You mean your metaphorical father. Norgorber."
"I sincerely doubt your god cares enough about you to come stop us."
While Spectrum and Ironbriar talked, Wyam fetched out a different potion from his pack. "Ironbriar, do yourself and your men a favor and drink this. It should help you regain a lost sense of self." he said, unstoppering the potion and holding it up to the justice's face.
He vainly thrashes. "No! No matter what is in that vial, I will resist it!" A boot pressed against his wounds or similar proves enough to make him much more compliant as he wordlessly swallows the flask's contents.
He blinks, and goes still. His gaze fixes on the ceiling, before a wave of fury crosses over him. "Oh... oh. Oh that twisted, conniving, manipulative WHORE!" He utters a long series of similar such insults in elvish and draconic. Eventually, he turns to face Wyam. "I... I was bewitched. Forcibly consumed by love. Xanesha, cruel temptress Xanesha; I must have repelled her advances so she forcibly took grasp of my mind, turned these men and I into patsies for her vile schemes. I... oh my."
He swallows nervously. "I... I can tell you everything about her. Everything. Where she is, what she is. B-but in return... twelve hours grace before the guards come for me to make me pay for the misdeeds committed in Xanesha's name, by Xanesha's influence. I... I... is this agreed?"
Wyam stiffened. This was what he'd been hoping for. Some easy answers after everything they'd gone through. They were finally one st He seems sincere in his anger, perhaps I can... no. I've been too easily deceived far too often lately. How can I be sure that he won't run or isn't lying? And yet, this is a chance to gain a great insight as to who and what we've been dealing with.
He looked away thinking for a moment before he looked back. We can't be hesitant now. This is too much potential information, but I will need make some conditions.
"You will not try escape the city, Justice Ironbriar."
Perhaps I will request a formal inquisitor to accompany us into interrogations...
"You will submit to being marked by my associate."
Or better yet, seek the training myself.
"You will officially retire from your position as a justice."
I believe this man to be a lesser evil, willing or not, and fully involve myself with him in order to seek out an ever greater peril.
"I do not know if you are a follower of Norgorber, but once this is over, you will accompany me to the church of Iomadae and you will seek atonement with me. Do you agree to these terms?"
Isme assesses the man's apparent breaking of the enchantment and discerns his truthfulness.
"Twelve hours is a lot of time to hide many misdeeds."
He shakes his head firmly. "I know my fellow Justices; knowledge of a... wrongdoer... among them will offend their pride; I will attain no fair atonement as long as I remain in this city."
He stares at Wyam. "You will need to make a choice, sir; justice, or victory over the unjust." He hesitates, then continues "I can tell you every hazard in your way, every enemy's powers and strengths; I can pave your way to success over that b&+~*. Or, trap me here, lose my knowledge, and chance failure, and triumph for her."
Isme fails to divine his intentions or thoughts.
"Kejal?" Isme turns to their new companion. "As the local here, what do you think?"
"Why would your system of justice hold you responsible for deeds you committed when you were magically compelled against your will?" Spectrum said, suddenly very skeptical of this place's legal system.
"Why would you want to escape, when you could explain what happened, subject yourself to a magical truth telling to back up your claims, and aid in seeing those who enslaved your brought to justice?"
"No wait, Isme. This man is a notable figure in this city, it's true. But the evils perpetrated by Xanesha are farther reaching than what he has done. She is a threat to the people and I will protect them. I do not know if I fully believe his words... but I do trust his anger. We need to sieze this chance.
As such a recognized figure, we can always find him later."
Wyam turned to Ironbriar holding out his hand. "You have my word, Ironbriar. Twelve hours in exchange for all the information you have on Xanesha and her servants."
He was expecting argument from the group but he would not give up. Though he did not know of Kejal's personal beliefs and he could not stop Isme or Spectrums actions he hoped they would trust him enough to see this through.
Isme personally didn't care enough to argue. She shrugged. It was Wyam's choice.
After Kejal's attempts at swaying the Faceless Stalkers, she could hardly attempt to stop Wyam from his course of action, and she weighs their options silently. Finally, she speaks, nodding to Spectrum. "I will not move against a deal you strike with my companions, and I am incredibly grateful for any assistance you can give us in dealing with this Xanesha, but I urge you to reconsider your next move, Justice. Surely what has happened to you could have happened to anyone, and the other justices will see that. Their pride will be hurt, yes, but they can be convinced of the greater threat - to themselves, and to the city we all strive to protect."
"In fleeing you are saying that a system you have spent many years upholding is worse than flawed. I would hope that that isn't true, but if it is, our duty is to change that, is it not?" She moves to put a hand on his shoulder. "I know that you are frightened, but would you let Xanesha take your entire life? Would you live the rest of your days on the run for crimes that you did not even willingly commit?"
Ironbriar ignores Spectrum and Kejal and focuses on Wyam. He nods eagerly. "On your word of honor, sir, the bargain is struck."
"Xanesha resides at the highest floor within the Shadow Clock- an ancient and decrepit clock tower. She is a Lamia, half snake, half woman. I have seen her wield a spear, and I believe she is a minor sorceress, supplementing her inherent magical powers."
He further describes all the enemies on the various floors; the faceless stalkers and a great flesh golem called the Scarecrow.
"Then by your word Ironbriar, you have twelve hours to order yourself. You and your acolytes had best see your activities done with. Before we go, I'm going to need a list of all of their names." he said, glaring specifically at the one who had magically disguised himself as a damsel.
"Come, we have little time to lose." he said departing, as they made their way out of the Sawmill and to the dark streets of the city for their confrontation with the now finally unmasked Xanesha.
"Spectrum, Isme, what can you tell me about Lamia's?"
Ironbriar nods fervently, falling to his knees and thanking Wyam for his generosity, and his deliverance of Ironbriar's vengeance on Xanesha.
Ironbriar describes a Lamia Matriarch, creatures quick to covet, enslave and overindulge.
"Are we really heading out to confront her now? Well, I suppose it's your choice."