”A virgin priestess of Sarenrae once taught me an important lesson about oaths a few years back: The spirit of ‘em is more important than the letter.”
The bull chuckle as he reminisces and he gives the young paladin a wink.
”If these healers really do wanna to mend Akropash’s wounds, they’ll help in whatever way they can. There’s plenty of aid they can give that doesn’t get ‘em directly involved in the fighting.”
Heff taps his leg and nods, nodding in agreement with Bjorkus's words. However Jaime shakes his head. "I am sorry, but our organization is a pacifist one. We cannot and will not get involved."
Bjorkus finds himself surprisingly vindicated by Heff’s support.
” Even in doin’ nothin’ you’re involved - stayin’ out of the fight helps Targ’s people remain in power. Targ – the bastard who kipnapped you off the streets, tortured you, and woulda had you killed for helpin’ people. Is that what you want your order known for – helpin’ a tyrants keep people in chains?”
Finding himself off-topic, the bull shakes his head.
”Even if they don’t wanna pick a side, there’s plenty of good the healers can do that doesn’t confict with your oaths like sheltering refugees, buryin’ the dead, and gettin’ food and water to folks."
Gabriel knew what sort of frustration Bjorkus must be feeling, largely because he had felt it just the other night when speaking to the order. But since then, Gabriel had come to terms with the Masked Healers beliefs, at least to a degree. It was still infuriating, but he could at least understand. As someone who had made his own Oaths, and would sooner go to the grave then break them, he could understand.
"If the spell keeping you and Toramin is running down, we need to get moving. Heff, is there anyway you could contact a healer or someone who could remove the curse that plagues him, and have him meet us at the Coliseum? Or even one of those trinkets Bjorkus mentioned?"
Jaime frowns. "Do not try to twist words on me." He shakes his head. "Of course we're sheltering and helping people, just not anybody that's involved in the fighting. Didn't you hear what that man said?" He says, pointing to Heff.
Heff nods. "Good idea Gabe. I'll see if I can get somebody teleported in. I'll keep you updated on that. As far as getting to the Colosseum, I think I have somebody who could help."
"Are you speaking of me old friend?" Yix's voice says. The middle aged catfolk slips up behind the party, furry hand on Toramin's shoulder. "Well I suppose it is a type of information moving, so I can get involved..." He smirks at Heff.
Though he’s not exactly excited about the prospect of working alongside the slimy catfolk, Bjorkus finds himself happier having Yix on his side rather than working against him.
”You’ve got a plan to get us to the coliseum? I hope it’s nothin’ too fancy. In a few minutes, the dwarf and I are gunna be in so much pain we'll barely be able to walk.”
"Ah, well my original plan was to use some underground tunnels to get you there, but if speed is what you require..." Yix takes out a scroll. "Although these are not cheap, so if you..."
Heff cuts him off with a wave. "I'll cover it, as well as any other expenses. Give them your A game Yix."
Yix smiles, tilting his head to the side. "Oh I like to hear that. Gather close now..."
After the catfolk explained the spell to the group, Gabriel gave a quick nod and stepped forward. It seemed like Heff did have another trick up his sleeve. Gabriel wondered how many cards the man held, briefly, and then decided that Heff held as many as he could at all times. He was suddenly very, very glad he didn't attack Heff. "Don't start fights and avoid running into people, got it."
The sensation of being invisible was new to Bjorkus and not one he entirely liked but there was no denying the results. He grunts and nods in understanding (even though only a few can see it).
"Let's go. We're gunna be cuttin' it close."
Once the resin is removed, Toramin is much happier, though he is giving Heff more than one displeased look.
"Theirs is a difficult path. Do not disparage it simply because it is not your own. Providing healing and safety is a valuable contribution."
When Yix pats his shoulder Toramin will reach up to squeeze his hand in a warm fashion. [smaller]Red striped today, sartorially perfect for regicide.,"[smaller] the dwarf whispers.
”Even if they don’t wanna pick a side, there’s plenty of good the healers can do that doesn’t confict with your oaths like sheltering refugees, buryin’ the dead, and gettin’ food and water to folks."
"Theirs is a difficult path. Do not disparage it simply because it is not your own. Providing healing and safety is a valuable contribution."
Bjorkus invisibly follows, wary of the blinding pain that's going to hit him very soon.
Rilka dispenses the solvent onto Toramin’s ears and then rubs it in. Soon his ears are free of the hardened glue. ”You can hear me?” she asks before doing the same for the mass of glue on his nose and cheeks.
”So we need to stay within the sphere’s radius to remain invisible, right?” She pulls her rapier out of Dalton’s bag of holding and straps it to her belt. She mentally chastises herself for forgetting her sling staff or pistol.
”If we do get separated does everyone know how to reach the arena?”
Relieved to be out in the sun again, Dalton still felt under a yoke as the curse pending on them cast a pall over the otherwise happy moment of seeing open support. He took a few paces away from the group to survey the status of things as their spirited conversation remained easily audible. Their tyranny is over. Yet the witch must be stopped. Undead were not the transmuter's specialty, but he knew the basics. Unfortunately, the priests and the like seemed to either be biding their time or not on the front lines - the powerful ones anyway. So be it. But the wizard had absolutely no patience for the refusal of the masked healers to help their group. There were ways around that though.
Half-turning, Dalton gestured subtlety towards Heff.
After his idea was conveyed, Dalton returned to the group. "I confess my use will be somewhat limited now. The trinkets Bjorkus described are one of the only ways I could have sufficient energy to access my more useful magic for some time. I haven't the potency to bend time again at the moment."
"Lying is one thing, taking a hostage and demanding action is crude thuggery. It would also ruin my relationship with them, which as of now is a very beneficial one."
Yix casts the spell and cloaks the party in darkness while Heff calls in some Aestheric agents in to escort the rescued slaves out and Jaime to the temple. Four Tooth refuses help, immediately setting out in a eastern direction. Slypha demands to stay with the party, wanting to directly help with the uprising.
The trip to the Colosseum is uneventful, Yix expertly guiding the party between building and back alleys to avoid the main fights. After ten minutes the party reaches the Colosseum where there are twenty Aestheric agents guarding the front entrance. Yix drops the spell, and upon recognizing the party and the situation being explained they step aside and let everybody in.
Inside the Colosseum are hundreds upon hundreds of terrified looking civilians in the seats. Aestherics are at every entrance, vigilantly keeping guard. Down in the center are also many refugees, but there is an area roped off where Aestheric officers are grouped and talking to each other around a table with a map of the city on it.
Yix takes a look around, and with a satisfied nod turns to the party. "I imagine you have some business to attend to that I won't be allowed to hear, I'll be around when or if you need me."
"We should see if we can get the masked healers to remove the curse. I'll escort the wounded to where I talked to them. It would do to rally the city while we cry out in pain."
Toramin leads the cursed and wounded to where he met the healer's last.
I hope Ninnec is okay.
So the man has grown a conscience? When worms can walk and fish can fly...
Dalton concurs with Toramin. "The question is how to persuade them."
Bjorkus gives the catfolk a nod of gratitude as he parts ways, quickly making a beeline for the Aestheric command tent. The sight of the frightened citizens weighs on the bull's heart but now wasn't the time for doubts. Now was the time he'd been waiting for - the time to act. He's wary of the crippling pain that was bound to double him over at any moment but he couldn't let it keep him from his task.
Gabriel stays as close to the bull and Toramin as he could. Soon, the curse would begin affecting them again, and it was important that Bjorkus in particular seem unfazed by the pain he would be feeling.
Rilka follows Toramin as he leads them to the masked healers. She does her best to listen to conversations as they pass, gauging the crowd’s mood and the rumors that are speeding around the city. I should have kept an extract unprepared to meet the day’s contingencies. Ant haul would come in very useful if I need to help carry someone.
”We have plenty to offer the masked healers,” Rilka says to Dalton.
"Perhaps," replied Dalton, "But to pseudo-priests of principle, pewter and platinum par with pears. Piety pools their purse; portrayed as partakers of pummeling in this proximity, our participation proves us a penniless party, peddlers of punitive pilpul."
After briefly sweeping the scene and making a plan, the burning, searing sensation of blood trying to change into gas rips through Toramin and Bjorkus. The sudden onslaught is relentless, the pain constant and mind numbing but it doesn't get old, the body is not getting used to it. The party grabs onto their arms and quickly searches for the healers.
The groans of pain and stink of death makes it easy to find where the healing is taking place, to the east just inside the bowels of the Colosseum. Inside there are magical lights covering the ceiling, giving an odd atmosphere that has almost no shadows whatsoever, but the room is very well lit. Aestheric healers are running from one end of the area to the other, shouting commands and crying for different spells and medicines. Their patients are Aestheric fighters and refugees. Everybody, healers and patients alike, are wearing masks. The sweet scent of decaying flesh commands the air.
A moment later two armed Aestherics (also wearing masks) step in front of the party. They do not appear hostile, but their hands are on their weapons and their faces have a grim determination. "The healers are overstressed as is, if you're in good enough shape to walk than whatever it is is less important than what they're dealing with.
"Respectfully, no, good sirs. Our companions and we are on a special mission from the council itself. Failure to see it through may mean your masks are little more than epitaphs in short order. I mean that not as a threat to you, but to us all from this city's witch, after whom we are tasked."
Dalton was upset there was little he could do himself. "There is a sort of magical curse about them. Can it be removed?"
Bjorkus groans and tries to stand up straight while Dalton berates the soldiers.
They both shake their heads. "Haven't been an Aestheric very long I imagine. We're not bound to mindlessly follow orders from superiors, vague threats from higher ups have no meaning without some reasons." One of them looks at Bjorkus and Toramin. "Ya they look hurt, but they're up and walking. They'll have to wait with the rest of the mildly injured." The other raises his brow at the mention of a curse. "That sounds pleasant. Even if the healers could handle something like that, them taking the time away will cost lives. Innocent lives. Is treating them that important?"
Toramin gives a pained laugh at their response. "They have your number, Dalton. No, the end of our curse is not worth innocent lives. Though, of course, some may die because we are not able to defend them. These lives however are more concrete. Though don't be so eager to fondle your weapons. That excites Bjorkus. You don't want him to get the wrong idea. Come on. Let's go dangle, Targ's head before the masses."
With that. Toramin painfully stumps out.
Bjorkus manages a derisive snort despite the pain suffusing his body and gestures at the bloody bundle strapped to the dwarf's back as he waddles away.
"In case you were wonderin', that's Targ's head."
Both get a look of surprise and admiration on their face. "So it was you lot, eh? First domino and all that. How the hell did you take him down? Heard he was a nightmare to fight."
"Good timing, a whole lotta guts, and some dumb luck", the bull explains.
"We're gunna head out there and tell folks the good news. It'd be a lot easier if we weren't doublin' over from whatever the bastard did to us. His blood was filled with some kinda magic or curse. It feels like my soddin' skin's peelin' off."
One of them rubs at his stubble, then gives a nod to the other. "It's important to have a figure at the head of the revolt beyond the mysterious organization protecting them. Interestingly enough Heff hasn't taken up the mantle yet. Here." He reaches into a pocket and pulls out a pair of breathing masks. "There's a lot of sick people in here, don't want to catch anything." The guards motion to a young man dressed in healing robes and a mask, telling him to lead Bjorkus and Toramin to the magical care area.
After about a minute of walking and weaving between dead and dying bodies, Bjorkus and Toramin find themselves looking at a human with plain healing robes but a small symbol on her shoulder showing her authority. She's constantly flipping through papers and giving orders, flicking from one healer to a patient to another situation. After a moment the young man gets her attention, and when she turns the two warriors see her eyes are very pale, one of them pink and the other blue. Her skin is also pale but her hair is a midnight black. She nods and waves the young man off, taking a step closer. "What is it? Give me the short version."
Bjorkus grunts in approval and after a bit of effort manages to fit the small mask over his bovine snout.
He follows the guards through the teeming wounded, dying, and dead, but doesn't shy away from it. It'll be worth it but there's going to be a lot more like this in the days to come. Never forget that freedom's not free.
For a moment, the striking woman distracts Bjorkus from the pain of his malady but the bull can't place the meaning of her exotic appearance.
"We killed Targ", he explains bluntly. "When he died he put some kinda curse on us. The pain is intense - it's hard just to walk. We had a masked healer with us. He used a spell to dull it for a few hours but it's back again. Think you can help?"
Well, the shifter wanted the short version - she got it.
She listens intently for a moment, then mumbles a word that causes her eyes to go a much deeper color of their original version. After a moment of studying them, she shakes her head. "I did not come today prepared for curse breaking, but I have plenty of magic to stop pain." She mumbles a spell, and the same relief washes over Bjorkus and Toramin as when Jaime cast his spell. "You have five hours with that. Is that all?"
Bjorkus takes deep breath after the spell takes hold and the pain becomes distant and dull.
”Thanks, that’s all we need for now”, the bull rumbles. ”We’ll come find you again tomorrow. I’ve got a coliseum to get fired up.”
Before leaving, Bjorkus pauses. ”What’s your name?”
She listens to the words of a short healer, giving him instructions before turning back to Bjorkus. "Nitha. Ask for me and I can get you in and out." She gives one last look at the two before turning back to her work. She is being very short with her words, but it appears to be more because of the lives depending on her immediate attention rather than a lack of care or interest for Bjorkus and Toramin.
Seeing that Bjorkus and Toramin are in good hands Rilka explores the area, mouth and nose covered by her hair veil. She looks at the injured and the dead to determine the types of wounds people are suffering from, most interested in magic. Before she knows it, Bjorkus is thanking the changeling for her help. She hurries back to her companions and adds her own thanks and bows to the healer.
”At least that’s managed for now,” Rilka says. ”To the arena?”
”At least that’s managed for now,” Rilka says. ”To the arena?”
"Quite, and let us make haste of it; we have four hours and change for the round trip."
At least she is reasonable and straightforward. Heff is but one of those on his better days.
After giving Nitha a grunt and nod of thanks, Bjorkus departs with the others for the arena.
"Remind me when we're gettin' close on time", he asks of the pudgy elf.
After giving Nitha a grunt and nod of thanks, Bjorkus departs with the others for the arena.
"Remind me when we're gettin' close on time", he asks of the pudgy elf.
Dalton nods. "In case my mouth gets glued as seems to be a possibility around here," he begins, chuckling at Toramin, "Know when the defensive spell around me disperses, there is about an hour remaining. Anyone with more than a touch of magic should be able to see if it's there or not if they focus."
Rilka sees a lot of battle wounds, almost all of them cuts from small or medium sized bladed weapons. However there are a number of people who appear to have no wounds, but all the same are here and being treated, sweating and thrashing about while screaming in pain.
With the pain out of their minds for the moment, the party moves to where the Aestheric officers are talking. There are four officers gathered around a map that has multiple colored pieces on it. There are no guards in the area, just a circle of respect for the planning officers. They all introduce themselves.
- Curden Ripshaw: Male human, neatly combed back hair and an eyepatch over his left eye where a scar runs through. Is wearing medium armor and has a few heavy weapons on him. Highest ranking officer in the area.
- Bulanna Megiosa: Female elf, blond hair and blue eyes with pronounced ears. Wearing light armor, carrying a scimitar and dagger and a very fine bow.
- Orgru Hish: Male half-orc, snarling mouth with pointed teeth and beady eyes, wearing heavy armor and sweating profoundly. Has a wicked looking flail and a heavy shield.
- Galeon Tropps: Male halfling, sun-weathered skin and a lean face. Has light armor and a pair of pistols with a bandolier about his chest.
Orgru spits in the sand. "Whole city is a damn wasps nest, these f!!@in' white cloaks popping up wherever they damn well please. Strong enough to fight like men but they deem to fight like pissing little cowards anyways." The officers grumble in agreement, Bulanna stepping forward. "Heff has sent word of your importance, do you require something from us?"
The wizard considered a moment. "Yes, actually. Could you pester that wasp's nest on a couple of different sides while we extract the queen? We are headed to her throne, and could do without the worker bees. While they may be many places, there are only so many of them."
Bjorkus greets each officer with a nod of respect and offers handshakes to those that'll take them.
"The Whitecloaks are dangerous but they're just cronies. The witch's our goal. Take her out and the Whitecloaks will go belly-up", the bull rumbles.
"How're the people holdin' up. From what I saw the damned white cloaks were attackin' everyone in sight."
Ripshaw grunts, gesturing at the map. "We're focusing our troops on diverting the white cloaks away from the masses. Containment of combat, as it was. But they know the city a lot better than we do, the only thing we can do is respond to their attacks. They're well trained as well, normally our small numbers are bolstered by our superior training when the Aestherics resort to mass fighting." He narrows his one good at Dalton. "Do you know Acera's whereabouts?"
"Aye, the white cloaks seem to be attacking at random and slaughtering whoever isn't one of them or an important slaver. The people are scared and confused, our sudden appearance doesn't help with that either. They don't know us."
"The city's full of strong fighters and it's ready for this. You just gotta get 'em on your side - let 'em know you're here to help. The Healers don't wanna get involved but do you got any of the city's big players on board? The Serpents? The Wraiths? What about the Lightning Lords?"