Pontia considers Doritian's state dispassionately. "I suspect that there may not be much, if anything, left of his soul after communing with Dhalavei."
"I hate agreeing with you since it means souls could be lost, but you maybe right. Dhalavei is one part of our foe's support, the other is some Order of the N something... got any clues on what that could be?"
Of course, he thinks on it himself as well Do I know any "order of the" starts with N..
Arma barely understood what had happened. She saw Doritian and Secunda and even Bangu-Bangu. They all seemed afraid. Confused.
"Doritian?" The strange quality and shadows about the room leave her wondering further as she hopes to ask him what it all means.
Then something unspeakable occurs. Something she can't stop no matter how she would try. She forces herself to listen to what he says of seven black pearls, seven prayers and seven sins in a crown. His screams scar her already strained mind further.
Her mouth left open in a scream her mind cannot understand as she reaches toward his fading form being dragged away.
And then it is no one but herself, Kyrax, Zhu and Noya in the room. A room like it was before.
Unable to muster up anything of what she once felt before her voice comes out as flat, tired and nearly lifeless. Her limited grasp on her mind and her long fought for heart falter making her seek comfort in before she dared to even think she knew of emotion and freedom again. Before Doritian became a friend. Before he inspired her to curiosity. Before he inspired more than that. The voice of how she endured her life before then. The voice she woke with.
"Query...What is this place?"
She stands up and at attention, her dead face drained of all emotion or concern. Only tears trails that had fallen down her face show any of the previous light once in her eyes.
You realize that Secunda was likely struggling to say 'Ninth', a reference to Asmodeus. She was more than likely unable to due to Dhalavei's influence on her. She may well have come up through the white shrine...
Pontia shudders at a memory, a gesture that for a moment makes her seem less standoffish (if not any more approachable). "It's a terrible thing to fall into the hands of any god, Bydar. I have no doubt that Lamashtu could have erased me with the slightest fraction of her power, but my intent aligned with hers and she forebore to; Dhalavei had no such reason to hold back."
"Terrible thing? Huh. Odd, I would think having no hands at all to catch you would be more frightening, but I agree about much of the rest of what you say," having a thought about his own question, he shares it, "It maybe that, what was her name? Secunda was trying to say 'Ninth', a reference to Asmodeus. If Dhalavei's influence on her prevented it, it makes me wonder if she didn't come up through the white shrine. Certainly fits what little we heard of it."
Pontia nods. "The Order of the Ninth? And she couldn't even say his title--yes, I'm sure she was also affected by Dhalavei."
Robert looks grimly at the scene around him, and comes back to the group that is still standing.
"So, this is not over yet. The real Xorshak must still be around somewhere."
He looks at the remains of Secunda and kicks them. His face is contorted in a cruel grim, but he says nothing. Then he looks at Doritian.
"So this is the real Doritian? Couldn't this be some magic version of him?"
"This sleep. It seems obvious there should be some magic in that object, but do you guys know how to deal with it? Should we try to wake them? I fear some thing nasty might be just about to enter this room and attack us again."
Mirandix walks back to the others, [b]"I know nothing of this magic. I do not know if waking them would cause more harm than good, or if it is even possible."[/ooc]
Then he sees Arma and hears her despondent wail. He goes over to her and says as gently as possible, "We are in a dream world." He looks around to address his other two companions as well. "But unlike ordinary dreams, what happens here can have real effects in the world we know. Doritian, Secunda, that idiot Bangu-Bangu... their souls have been claimed. They are gone. Dammed. We have been affected by a powerful sleep spell - but its effects are limited, no more than one or two hours, I hope. We must stay together and protect each other until we awaken. In the meantime, perhaps we can use the opportunity to learn more of our foes -- if this place is indeed a reflection of our realm."
Looking to Zhu as he speaks she stares attentively as he talks. Her emotionless tone and face seem severely disturbing and different then normal to see as she responds to him.
"Thank you for the answer to the query designate friend Zhu. Sleep is normally a malfunction for this one. Explains in part anomalous start of diagnostic mode. Other malfunctions related to mental stability have been noted and are causing severe conflicts. Subject undefined Doritian listed as primary above self is considered main conflict. This would seem to be in error as reason for listing as primary is called love under anomalous program category of emotion. Please wait..."
For a moment Arma's head moves to the side as if thinking about something and her eyes briefly flash blue. Her emotionless voice however resumes soon after.
"This cannot be identified as part of base programing and is illogical. Other seeming errors include categories of family, friends, pets, faith, emotions and various sub records influencing decisions made over the course of activation 18 years, 65 days, 18 hours, 31 minutes, 18 seconds ago. Root anomaly in program is unknown."
At this her head turns to look at Zhu directly.
"Diagnostic query designate friend Zhu? Loss of designation undefined Doritian seems to be causing this unit designated Arma to be malfunctioning and considering self termination. Feedback of this is causing some stimulus consistent with pain both mental and physical. This conflict between self preservation and this self created programing of category love indexed in emotion category and interacting with other anomalous categories, cannot be overcome. Code cannot be safely deleted or changed due to conflict and would destroy designate Arma if done. To continue to function on this line of reasoning seems in error. Is this a malfunction?"
Arma's body operating on this strange sort of auto-pilot seems to be having trouble understanding the problem. The emotionless cold stare her form gives seems to wait to examine Zhu's reply.
Even while you stand debating, the western door opens... and out comes a figure you have some trouble recognizing until she speaks.
"Oh! It's you," the young woman says, a note of weary relief in her voice. Her shoulders sag a little as strain visibly leeches out of her. "I heard the noise and I hoped - but I couldn't be sure, you see, and I... Well."
The young woman stands in the doorway, wringing her hands. She is dressed as a Keleshite harem girl, her hair cut short, much of her figure exposed, her feet bare. Black and unlovely tattoos dot her skin now. Cheetah-like circles and 'teardrops' mark her face. Three dark symbols climb up her belly. Winding serpents made of odd writing circle her arms and legs.
And yet the voice, the colour of her hair, her eyes, her skin, and after closer scrutiny her face -- this is Lady Valeria!
The young woman grimaces when she sees Secunda's corpse and shakes her head at the sight of Doritian, her expression souring.
"Well," she says again, breathes out, brushes her hands down her stomach and squares her shoulders. "I am very glad to see you all - new faces included. Can we get out of here now? Please? I think I should like to go home."
He turns backs to Arma and thinks about the right thing to say. They need the warrior's strength if they're going to survive this ordeal.
"Is love a... malfunction? That is a difficult question. Love is... an imperfection that makes us better than we could ever be without it. My grandmother once told me, during a very dark time after my parents died, that the pain I felt would hurt for a very long time, perhaps never to leave. And that is good, she said, because it would remind me of the value of life in a land of despair. Without that love for my parents and without the pain of their loss, I would not be the person I am today. I would be no better than the emotionless thugs that do the aboleths' bidding.
"You feel pain over the death of Doritian. That is part of life, Arma. That you opened yourself up to the imperfection of love is proof that you are alive, my friend. That ability to love is what makes you the strong person you are."
A rude noise sounds after Arma's emotionless words of pain and Zhu's words of wisdom. It is a sound you might expect to hear out in the field, not here inside a building: the cawing of a crow!
A black bird does, indeed, come flying into the room through the very same doorway you all entered by. It flies through the hall, lands on top of the throne and from that position regards you with evident curiosity. To your astonishment, you can see that the bird has four wings instead of two and is wearing a mask, rather like a plague-doctor's mask, over its beak!
"Well, this is an embuggerance and no mistake, pardon my Chelish," the creature says with the stuffy, fussy voice of a thwarted clerk. "Souls gone already, are they? Tisk, tisk! And proper procedure flouted by means of a cheap permission slip. Honestly."
The bird ruffles its feathers again and regards you all with glittering eyes.
"I say, do you all have legitimate business here...?"
This creature is a Nosoi Psychopomp. They are generally non-hostile, unless someone interferes with the office of death.
Arma listens to Zhu with the same flat but contemplative look upon her face as if trying to determine if what he says has meaning.
"Processing... Answer accepted. Determination... Designate Arma's code is both malfunction and improvement. Conflict remains. Conflict necessary. Diagnostic to avoid further query into altered code along current lines. I thank you designate friend Zhu. Designate Arma's unique code and conflicts caused by such shall be ruled as part of normal function. Warning... Designate Arma still has a high likely hood of seeking to self-terminate should designation undefined Doritian remain deceased. Manual interface required from here on out as diagnostic function will no longer activate due to these or similar parameters again. Please take care of her."
The emotionless voice stops and after a moment of being frozen in place Arma's eyes flash slightly and she seems to come to.
"Sir... Zhu? I remember what you said but I don't know when you did... It was something... Beautiful... Did you say we were dreaming too? Lady Noya? Sir Kyrax? My friends! I have never dreamed!?! How are you in... Lord Doritian, was..."
The look of confused excitement fades with one of dour realization...
"You said damned didn't you? How real is this dream Sir..."
About this time the strange crow entity lands before them and speaks. Arma lets her question drop and lets someone speak as little seems to make sense...
"Lady Jeggare, forgive me for being so forward. Who put those marks on you?"
"I smell a trick in here", Robert says only within reach of his mates.
"I am not ready to leave without our companions!" he says in a louder tone.
"I can't make out the third, but the second symbol is that of Ahriman, another one of your destructive nihilistic deities" He notes the tattoos.
Valeria goes pale and she squeezes her eyes shut, trembling at some painful memory. On her eyelids, there are more tattoos; pictures of eyes!
"Xorshak did this. I'm lucky to have gotten off with this... and a few other things. He was going to sacrifice me to his gods at first, but I managed to... dissuade him."
The Chelishwoman opens her eyes again and you can see pain and self-loathing in there. "I wouldn't want to abandon anyone in this stinking tower, sir Robert, but I do want to get out of here just as soon as possible. Surely you can understand that."
Pontia nods, studying the Chelish noblewoman. She doffs her cloak and hands it to Valeria. "Here, this will at least be warmer."
"Milady, though my duty is now to see you returned swiftly to your family, I fear that if we don't defeat Xorshak now he'll just come after us again. What is through that door?" Pontia indicates the way Valeria just came from.
"The bedroom," Valeria says, wincing slightly. "The other door leads to his private workshop and shrine. But you needn't worry about him, I think. He left yesterday and said he was leaving the tower to his Simulacrum."
"I'm sorry, milady. I can't take that chance. Bydar, Robert, Mirandix--I propose to examine his workshop to see if there is a clue there to what he did to the others." Pontia casts detect magic again and starts by checking the door for magical traps.
You find no traps on the workshop door, but as (if?) you go inside, you find plenty of... echoes. Great magic has been done here in the not too distant past. Even at first examination, you can easily determine some of what has been done here.
A suit of banded mail stands ready on a clothing dummy, as if awaiting a warrior ready and willing to pick it up.
A big tub full of chemicals looks ideally suited for the brewing of homunculi.
A rack of weapon-crafting tools stands ready on a stone table, a sword blank lying ready nearby for the next stage of forging.
Most troublingly, a kind of amalgam of bones has been assembled in the far corner of the room; a puppet made of pieces of many different skeletons. A note is pinned to one of the ribs: 'Bring metal pins in case of imperfect petrification.'
Wedged under the leg of the table holding the homunculus-making bottles and flasks is a slender book with a black leather cover.
Pontia focuses on determining what may have been done here; unfortunately, she's deliberately neglected the Enchantment school of magic, so she's going to be at some disadvantage there.
Mirandix nods to Pontia and with a slight bow to Valeria he moves towards the door to the workshop, flanking Pontia. Once he is by Pontia's side, he speaks in a low tone, "We should also inspect the bedroom, any tools and valuables that we can remove from Xorshak, the better off we will be."
Entering the workshop with Pontia, Mirandix stands ready as he moves around the room searching for anything of note.
"Pontia, here. There is a book of some kind here under this table. Is it safe to touch?"
Pontia detects strong residual auras of Transmutation, slightly less Enchantment and some universal auras. In a litter basket, she finds scraps of scroll-quality paper with a few arcane symbols on them that imply Xorshak was performing high-level spell research - easily 7th level! Carelessly tossed in with the trash is a single intact scroll, which contains a genuine spell of arcane power...
A scroll of Animate Dead
Mirandix' discovery appears to be a perfectly mundane book, bereft of any and all kinds of arcane protection. If extracted from under the table, it soon proves to be a heavily mutilated book; dozens of pages have been ripped out in a rage or cut out with spider-like methodicalness - and a sharp knife. A few passages survive intact:
'... finally welcomed at my Father's estate! He swore to me that I would not want when he took me home from Mother's funeral...'
'... a great Honour to be allowed to study with...'
'I cannot believe it! Months of hard work and study, and when the announcement of my discovery was made, Father claimed it was Ranald's work in front of the greatest sages of the realm! I demanded to know why and he said it was self-evident. As his by-blow, I should not stand forward, and as the heir, Ranald...'
'I have tried so hard to be a good son, to earn your love, all out of gratitude and the desire to be filial. Why do you keep throwing my pearls at that fat, lazy of a son?'
'He swore I would want for nothing, and yet he beat me like a slave when I complained that his precious Ranald was no filial son to him.'
'This rage blinds me, threatens to consume me as it did Alaznist of Thassilonia. I must find some peace of mind before it destroys me utterly! Vudrani meditation techniques are among this world's finest, and they have masterful scholars as well. Father can complain and bluster all he likes, I feel I must do this or risk my sanity and soul.'
'A year now, and I have learned much, but I have still not found peace! Father's letters are nothing short of insulting. None of the sages here have managed to bring balance to my life. It is whispered among the unclean that there is an ancient guru who offers deep enlightenment into the nature of the universe. I will go and see what his business is.'
'I understand now. I understand the universe and its weaknesses. It is time to finally snuff them out and end the pain. It is time to end all the pain, everyone's pain. If anything would survive, I am sure it would be thankful.'
The wizard takes great care in going through the various items, shaking her head over the scroll. "That's beyond me. I'll have to examine it later...what kind of wizard throws something like this away?" She looks at the book Mirandix found with interest.
Some of the calligraphy suggests that this book was written by a Keleshite of a family that was at the very least wealthy, and quite possibly noble.
Pontia glances over at where Valeria huddles, wrapped in her cloak. Keleshite...that would explain that.
"I speculate that Xorshak somehow fell under the influence of a follower of Dhalavei, or of a sage who venerated a trio of nihilist deities. I can't tell what he might have done to the others, though it seems to involve transmutation and enchantment magic."
Kyrax, late to rise into the dream world stands almost stumbling and mumbles Falling. I keep falling. He shakes his head in attempt to focus and his eyes come to rest on a shadowy form. There! he calls out a warning as he draws steel. He points to the shadowy form of a goblin that is seeming stalking Mirandix' shade.
Later he responds to the "bird". My dear feathered friend. We have the most legitimate business to be in this tower, I assure you. We are here to rescue a princess in distress. What higher calling could there be? But if you mean do we have business in this strange dream world I would have to answer that I am not quite sure. Perhaps you could help us sort that out?
Robert agrees with Pontia and Mirandix.
"Yes, we should examine the workshop and the bedroom."
After Pontia examines the book, he reads it as well.
"This gives a hint to motives, possibly of Xorshak, and they do hit home with me. Yet, this does not excuse him. No one needs to turn into a demented killer only because he's a bastard!"
But after this outburst, he becomes very silent and looks for any interesting objects in the room.
Are there any doors out of this room?
After his turn at the book, Bydar sighs, "That answers some questions. And he's brought the interest of that dark faith to these lands. Dire ramifications may only be begining,"Bydar shakes his head."Everyone up and about then? Our prisoner secure? "
To Valeria he says, "Not to disturb you, good lady, but those marks may take some time to remove."
Bydar knows are ways available to remove tattoos, but they'd take either more powerful magic than he has available or else the attention of a dedicated surgeon with equipment which does not seem to be present. Doritian continues to lie motionless on his back.
"It'll keep," Valeria says from where she is sitting on the floor, hugging Pontia's cloak around herself. "It'll keep. Pray continue your search. The sooner you're done, the sooner we can get out of here, yes?"
As Robert and Mirandix examine the workshop more thoroughly, they discover a secret door. Not a very good secret, mind you. More of an omission. It is easy enough to open it and reveal the shrine that Valeria mentioned; a small broom cupboard of a room with a surprisingly artistic statue of a four-headed serpent rearing up over a simple altar. Each of the snake's heads has been fitted with a slot large enough for a holy symbol of some sort. Two golden candleholders stand ready, half-burned candles of black tallow awaiting reignition.
Underneath the altar, you find a lockbox which, after some jimmying, opens to reveal a modest amount of money: 50 gp, 100 sp, two rubies and a note reading 'IOU 5 rubies'.
When Kyrax shouts, the shadow-Goblin briefly looks up and seems to be searching for the source of a vague sound, but seems unable to pinpoint it. You all see the Goblin stroke the hilt of a phantom weapon, maybe a scimitar, but in the end it shrugs and continues to dog Mirandix' every step.
When Kyrax addresses the bird, it holds up a foreboding wing.
"Please! Do let's not be too hasty in applying such epithets," it says, its voice fussy and almost offended. "Mortals are forever calling people 'friend', only for them to then get bent out of shape about people doing the task they were created for, with nary a bit of understanding for the demands of Purpose."
The bird caws softly at the Bard's statements about the group's presence and shakes its head.
"Personally, I find the proper cataloguing and disposition of souls to be a higher calling - but I understand you may not share this sentiment as you lack Purpose. Rest assured that I am not here to harm you, but neither am I here to help you; you shall have to find your own purpose here, temporary as it may be, if you can. The only reason I am here at all is that this place has gotten so polluted with strange magic lately that the Dream-Realm and the Path to Judgement have begun to bleed together a bit. The Lady of Graves does insist on good filing, after all."
The bird looks at all of you - then looks at Arma and does a doubletake.
"Now this is interesting," it says as it takes wing, only for it to land on Arma's shoulder. "I have not had the pleasure of encountering one like you before," it says in a more companionable tone of voice. "Your kind are usually handled by other scribes."
Robert impulsively stretches his hand and catches the rubies.
Arma looks as the creature flies to her shoulder and tenses slightly as clasps onto her as if a perch but her tired eyes alight with curiosity.
"Sir? Or perhaps Madam? I have not had the pleasure either... But you say, my kind? I am singular... My father made no others like me."
Her gaze seems puzzled by the statement and her gaze wanders about as she examines the dream realm watching the strange imagery of shadowed forms wandering about. Her voice is stable until her gaze settles on the place that Doritian was taken from... After there is a waver but it is slight.
"What do you know of all this? What is so strange about this magic?"
Her gaze seems to remain locked to the place in the ceiling where the hands had dragged them screaming.
He directs everyone's attention to the leering shadow-goblin that is trailing Mirandix's ghostly image.
"Can it be harmed in this realm?" he asks with anticipation.
Bydar knows are ways available to remove tattoos, but they'd take either more powerful magic than he has available or else the attention of a dedicated surgeon with equipment which does not seem to be present. Doritian continues to lie motionless on his back.
"It'll keep," Valeria says from where she is sitting on the floor, hugging Pontia's cloak around herself. "It'll keep. Pray continue your search. The sooner you're done, the sooner we can get out of here, yes?"
"Yes, though we may have to wait for the sleeping beauties to stir" Bydar admits, "You're a brave woman, madame. I'm Bydar of Pharasma by the way."
Something I forgot to mention: the suit of armour awaiting a bearer radiates magic. It has a +1 enhancement.
Robert finds the rubies to be cool to the touch, but not unnaturally so. They look to be flawless to his first examination, and are probably quite valuable.
The bedroom is... a bit of a surprise, really.
It is completely and utterly Spartan. The 'bed' is a stone slab with a few thin blankets on it. Frankly, the rug at the foot of the bed - a rug Valeria pointedly avoids looking at - looks more comfortable. The only luxurious-looking thing about the bed are the golden, hand-shaped shackles that look to have recently been hammered into the foot-end and head-end -- and judging by the way Valeria keeps looking away from the bed as well, it is not difficult to imagine what their purpose was.
Apart from the bed, there is a simple writing desk with a stool in front of it, and a clothes cupboard with the doors standing ajar. At the bedside, you find a plain porcelain pitcher still half full of cold water and a bedpan, mercifully empty.
Clearly, Xorshak did not believe in living the high life in spite of his fine clothing.
The odd bird chuckles at Arma's questions and shakes its head.
"My dear child, I am an agent of the Office of Death. I am neither male nor female. Such as I are created in accordance with Purpose, we do not breed like... well, like mortals."
The creature seems amused by Arma's assertion that she is unique and ruffles its feathers.
"You are not very widely traveled yet, are you?" is all it will say on that subject. "Hm, hm, your 'father', is it. I see, I see. Hah, yes indeed."
On the question as to the nature of the magic suffusing the tower, the bird clucks and its voice becomes less personable.
"I am Neutral in these matters, child. I really cannot go about tipping the scales in anyone's favour. That is simply not done! You will have to look about for yourselves and form your own conclusions. No, no, do NOT try to persuade me, I am of Death. I can not be swayed."
The bird puffs up its feathers at Zhu's tone, but steals a glance at the shadow-Goblin regardless.
"'Harmed', he says," it scoffs. "No, that can not be 'harmed' in this realm. Poor, ignorant savage -- er, mortal. Poor, ignorant mortal. Ahem. That is clearly what it is; a person who had nowhere to go and found a temporary residence. One might even say a mortal residence, yes?"
With a soft 'caw', the creature launches itself back into the air and hovers near the ceiling, four wings flapping.
"I am reasonably certain that your stay here is temporary," it tells you in a lofty tone, "so no need to fret over that. Should it turn out that your bodies have perished for some reason, then we might meet again. Seeing as this is not yet the case, however, I must depart; I have a very busy schedule to keep."
With that, the single bird erupts into a cloud of shadows which scatter in all directions and are then gone.
"That suit of armor is enchanted. Perhaps one of you can use it." The wizard writes down notes on anything that she could learn about the lingering auras in the workshop, and incidentally examines Valeria to see if she's carrying any sort of magic.
Pontia is disappointed to find that the auras have deteriorated too strongly for her to be able to identify them. Her scrutiny of Valeria does bring a little something to light; the young Chelishwoman is hiding an item on her person - in an area not commonly discussed in polite company. To be blunt, it is hidden under some fabric that is not transparent even on a Keleshite slavegirl outfit.
Pontia will let that go, for now.
Judging by the aura, it's an item that has been subjected to a Shrink Item-spell.
Arma looks to the others after the bird creature departs, whipping into shadows on her shoulder and vanishing quite suddenly. Her voice goes back to its calm but tired tone though the look on her face still seems puzzled by the creatures strange mention of travel.
"It seems that the strange creature has made things... Mostly clear. We must examine on our own now. I think that we should as we do not know exactly what has happened here."
Looking around and questioning her direction she eventually looks back to the doorway they entered through.
"I think I will head back to see what I can of our path here, but any of you that are inclined should look around the rooms here. After that you might study our friends to see if any other oddities surround them. We don't know how long we have here so let us hurry."
With little else except a small pained expression as her gaze looks at a spot in the main throne room she begins walking back and looking around herself for oddities to make note of.
If she can contrive it, Pontia will find time for a quiet word with Valeria.