Daidalos stays quiet, and those tha look closely can tell he has a slightly vacant expression as he thinks, Hmmmm.... lots happened today. Let's see, so if I start the Summon with my fingers in position 5, 2, 10, 15, and 1, it goes through. Hopefully next time I can get it to stick around for just a couple seconds longer.... Maybe if I adjust my middle finger to halfway between 10 and 11....
The next three months of your lives are a grueling, exhausting, breaking experience in which each of you is pressed to your limits. Thorn tasks Tiadora with overseeing your training and she is revealed as something of a sadist. Every time you think you've risen to the occasion of the test she places before you, she has tweaked something to turn victory into failure. On occasions when you're allowed to sleep, it's frequently tortured and restless. Arguments and backtalk are met with vicious beatings and even torture, hinting that Tiadora has far more power and strength than the mundane woman she appears to be.
The martially-minded are put into combat with all manner of beasts and creatures, mindless and sentient alike. Undead, rust monsters, devils, angels... all are summoned and thrown against you. The number of times you've been beaten into unconsciousness is lost in a haze of pain and broken bones.
Those who claim to know the faith of Asmodeus have their minds tested to the limits. Obedience when faced with the seemingly mindless, ordered to control and manipulate the seemingly impossible, testing on the tenants of the Nine Hells and brutal punishment when incorrect answers are given (which is inevitable given the eons over which the Infernal Laws have grown).
For the arcane, it is one humiliation after another. Spells constantly out of reach, foes and challenges chosen to cheat every preparation, and mental exercises so convoluted and warped its as if they were summoned from the Abyss only to be revealed after countless layers are peeled back to reveal the order and plans underneath.
Throughout the training, at moments when you are allowed to eat in the manor’s dining room, you occasionally encounter another group being trained. Led by a witch named Elise Zadaria, other members of the “White Ravens” include Dostan Alfson, a half-elf barbarian, Tallus “Trak” Racjburn, a human ranger, and Titus “Trik” Rackburn, Trak’s younger twin and a cleric of Asmodeus. Opportunities to truly chat and banter with them are practically non-existent as you are all too tired and work down, though Elise is thrilled at the prospect of hunting down Mitrans, Dostan seems the “strong, silent type”, and Trik and Trak seem loyal only to one another.
At last, when each of you seems to have reached a breaking point, you are allowed a full day to rest and slaves see to your every need. Then Tiadora summons you for another training exercise, allowing you to work together again. The skills you've learned are each put to the test, each on their own incapable of overcoming the obstacles and creatures arrayed against you but, combined, you are victorious.
Even Tiadora, who has reveled and laughed at your effort failure, offers her respect as she escorts you out of the training ground. ”You’ve done well for a bunch of escaped prisoners who were captured by Mitran fops. No no, I mean it. You’ve overcome much. Rest. Thorn is going to have a banquet in your honor tomorrow night. He intends to give you rewards for completing the training and brief you on your first task.”
“Deception is a tool. Master it.” Adrastus Thorn teaches you the subtle arts of deception and how to sense when they are being used against you. You gain a +1 trait bonus to Bluff and Sense Motive.
“Discover what is real and what is illusion.” Adrastus has taught you to see through deceptions and to never lie to yourself. You gain a +2 trait bonus on saving throws against illusions.
“Fear nothing save our dread lord.” Adrastus Thorn has shown you fear and taught you to master it within yourself. You gain a +2 trait bonus on saving throws against fear effects.
“Focus strengthens your will.” Adrastus Thorn drills you on ways to avoid magic that seek to take control of your mind and divert you from your mission. You gain a +2 trait bonus on saving throws against charm and compulsion effects.
“Let us perfect your favorite spell” Adrastus Thorn drills you again and again in the use of one particular spell. Pick one spell. This spell’s effects manifest at +1 caster level.
“Quiet as death” The Cardinal trained in the arts of being silent and stealthy. You gain a +2 trait bonus to Stealth checks.
“Strike first, strike ruthlessly and thus be victorious” Cardinal Thorn has taught you never to shirk or hesitate in a combat. You gain a +2 trait bonus on Initiative checks.
“Wear your armor like a second skin.” You have drilled extensively in wearing armor in combat. When you wear armor of any sort, reduce that suit’s armor check penalty by 1 to a minimum check penalty of 0.
“You shall be my angel slayer.” Adrastus Thorn spends exhausting amounts of time teaching you about good celestials, their strengths and weaknesses. You gain a +2 trait bonus on Knowledge (planes) checks about good-aligned celestials and receive a +1 trait bonus to any damage roll you make against them.
Ineluki feels battered and worn down emotionally and physically by the time the training is over... and is glad for a few days to recover... Each time a respite had been offered during the training, he'd taken to his bed and slept fitfully... it felt good to finally get the rest he needed.
The dark circles around his eyes hadn't yet faded much though by the time he came down to eat again. He ate sparingly though, fearing this was just another test and they might yet be drawn into further training.
"Do you think they're finally done with us and we can relax now? I'm not so sure... this would be in character as another test during training... "
Price looks bright eyed, alert, and fresh as a daisy... mostly because she has mastered the art of using her iron crown to subtly mask the obvious signs of fatigue in her face. "There's a saying: The more you sweat in training, the less you bleed in combat. I think they've finished honing us for the tasks ahead - at least for the time being. Rest while you can."
Thorn's training was quite tiresome, but Affyria learned much during the past three months. She was schooled in the art of deception, already showing she had a knack for it during her interactions with the squire Timeon. Apart from that, her eagerness to learn more about the outer planes did not escape Thorn's notice either. For weeks, she engaged in all sorts of dark ritual magics with his aid. Finally, she succesfully pulled a devilish imp to the Material Plane, which became bound to her as a gift from Asmodeus, the King of Hell, himself.
The little devil is called Kiffex, and hardly ever seems to leave Affyria's side. He fawns over his mistress, and when not invisible, he perches on her shoulder, his barbed tail draped across her neckline.
"The past couple of months have surely been... interesting, and enlightening. Still, I am curious for tomorrow night, and what our host has in store for us. Coincidentally, has anyone had the chance to have any sort of meaningful conversation to the other group receiving training?"
Kiffex the imp chitters in a high-pitched voice, "They cannot stand up to your grandiosity, mistress." He carefully uses one of his claws to tuck an errant strand of Affyria's hair back behind her horns.
Price gives the imp a puzzled frown for a moment. "I haven't done more than exchange greetings with them."
What at first seemed like an introductionary course into the harsh lessons needed to survive the life they'd lead soon turned into a perverse existence where Asturu found ever more hate seeping into the pool of his mind, it's corrosive lick eroding the soft corners of his soul until they were sharp and wicked, something best not touched.
When he felt resistance there was a dreaded sense of lacking power. Reality would then soon punish him for that and knock him right off his feet, palpably hesitant in its decision to give him another chance at success. Again he had to face the challenges and again he'd fail, showing him that the pen lived in an alternate universe, one of luxury and entitlement, an honor and privilege you had to earn.
Where he had been anything but verbose before, now Asturu turned ever more inwards, ready to strike and lash out whenever the shadows of his mind detected a danger or threat. The cheery happy-go-kill attitude of Price, Timo and Affyria failed to rub off on him.
One way of dealing with the brutal nature of his existence was by brewing concoctions that made it easier for his body to undergo the trials and tribulations of Thorn's training regime. He needed to become more than just stronger, he had to be a physical force no mere mortal man could stand against.
--
The end of it all came with a new urge: to one day slap that grin of Tiadora's face and without it resulting in the woman taking pleasure out of it. Yes, in a way he was thankful for all she had done, but her obvious pleasure in her wicked cruelties meant that if Asturu was to rise above her, she'd need a reminder. One day he reminded himself, adding the objective to an evergrowing list of goals. There, it would fall down to the bottom and float amongst many other hate-driven desires.
"Rest? I'm not used to such mercy and love from you, Tiadora" said the man with a solemn voice betraying his weariness. "But take the opportunity to do so I will." He nodded at his companions, aching for some privacy .. and sleep.
Timo sighs and stretches out his muscles, bruises forming from their last trial and tribulation. "I think they must have misremembered that saying Price. Thorne seems to believe Its "the more you bleed in training..." I do pray you're right, however. I grow tired of these tests. When do we get to actually be put to use?"
Price gives him a wicked smile, "Oh, I can put you to use... since we have a night free. Shall we say two hours from now?"
Timo flashes Price a devilish grin, "Two hours it is ... I am yours to do with as you wish, Lady Price"
Price dabs the napkin at the corners of her mouth. "Oh my." She exclaims then creases the napkin and places it carefully on the table as she rises. "If you'll excuse me gentlemen and lady, it seems I have some preparations to make." She leaves the table casting a lingering glance at Timo, "Two hours."
Daidalos slumps into his room, exhausted. The three months had been exhausting for him, and his mind almost felt like it would burst. He had learned so many new spells, more powerful than he had cast before, refined his technique while casting, had private tutoring from Thorn on researching the true names of devils, and more. He had been taught the little ways he could make his spells more effective against fiends, and how to get the upper hand when negotiating with them. He had learned to persuade people using logic, and to use clever wordplay to deceive rather than to outright lie. He had learned new languages, new tactics, and even a new personality. His endless frustrations with Tiadora were about ready to burst, I need to kill someone. This is frustrating to no end. Honestly, that devil is a sadist. Makes sense, I suppose. Ah well, soon enough I suppose. And I can finally start my soul collection.
Still, he sat down and wrote in his journal for a little while, before visiting Timeon briefly, corrupting the once-noble boy even further into the depths of wickedness. Then, he returned to his chambers, summoning his slave and having her treat him to a long, relaxing bath, like the one he had the first day after he arrived. He fell asleep soon after, exhausted and ready for a feast the next day.
That night, for those who so desire, you receive baths and massages from the slaves and, when you eventually settle down to rest, your beds seem even more comfortable than usual. Your minds may rush and churn in anticipation or anxiety as to what lays ahead of you, but the exhaustion from the last three months -- mental and physical -- overwhelms you.
During the night, fresh outfits were hung in each of your wardrobes, including a more formal outfit (likely for the evening's feast). You wake the following morning to the smell of freshly baked pastries, bacon and a true luxury in the northern and isolated climate of Talingarde: coffee. When you arrive in the dining hall, freshly squeezed juice is available and the slaves prepare any type of breakfast you desire.
The day is quiet and restful, perhaps uncomfortably if you've become accustomed to the frenetic pace of your training, or anxiety-inducing if you wait for a sudden surprise or test to be sprung. Instead, every luxury the manor can provide is extended to you.
That evening, the dining hall is prepared with such opulence that the finest houses of Mathryn would be hard pressed to compete. Silver candlabras, a trio of musicians playing stringed instruments, others dressed in formal attire serving canapes and Chelaxian wine, platinum chargers and Tian-crafted plateware.
Thorn himself is waiting for you, resplendent in black and crimson velvet robes. He smiles warmly and receives each of you into the hall, offering personal congratulations on your hard work and achievements. The man positively exudes charm and grace but, a couple times during the dinner, there is a look or a gesture, usually directed towards a slave or Tiadora, that reminds you of the power he commands. Yet, as silver clinks against china and one course after another is brought out for your pleasure, he is generous with his praise and admiration.
"Master Zoci, you did remarkably well, not just with Sir Balin but all of your tests. Your arm and your mind are an asset to our Father.
"Miss Price, your focus on solving the challenges ahead of you is remarkable, as is your ability to look for unconventional solutions.
"Daedalos, skilled with magic and deception, it will be interesting to see what you can make of the young squire.
"Priestess Strex, your command of our Father's infernal teaching is admirable. I commend you on putting your mind to more fully learning the tenants of our faith and I look forward to watching you bring this land into obedience.
"Inelukii, not merely a curiosity but a truly dangerous foe. Your abilities are supremely useful, and we are grateful you have lent them to our Father's purposes.
"And Master Renaro, adaptable and multi-talented... we would all do well to pay heed to your knowledge of science as well as the arcane.
"Individually, you are all formidable. Together... you are unstoppable. Congratulations on all that you have -- and will -- achieve. Know that our Father looks upon your accomplishments with approval, and I with pride." He lifts a silver-stemmed glass of Chelaxian red in a toast, "To you, to the Nessian Knot, to the fall of House Markadian, and to the Faith of Our Dark Father! May all know His infernal blessings!"
Affyria enters the dining hall, dressed in a resplendent black dress lined with crimson silk. Kiffex perches on her shoulder, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. Inspecting the dining hall, she smiles approvingly.
This certainly makes up for the past three months. I suppose I better enjoy this, since who knows what will happen after tonight.
Availing herself of the food and Chelaxian wine, Affyria spends quite some time in whispered conversation with Kiffex.
In response to Cardinal Thorn's toast, Affyria raises her glass and replies, "The kingdom will be His."
Ineluki comes to the dining hall in garb of soft grey leathers, in high contrast to the black and crimson of Thorn, Affyria, and likely others as well. He looks positively bland and unnoticeable... perhaps his personalal affectation, perhaps a statement in and of itself.
He smiles happily seeing his companions all looking so resplendent. "You all look so fine tonight!" he remarks upon seeing them.
Daidalos enters the room in what seems to be his normal day-to-day outfit. However, upon closer inspection, it's made of soft silk as opposed to tough leather, and is trimmed in scarlet, with runes of power stitched down the length of the outfit. He savors the food, grateful for the wonderful taste, knowing he'll likely have to flavor road rations with minor magic once they leave for their quest, whatever that might be. The wine he sips appreciatively, careful to not let it impede his thoughts as he dines on all the wonderful food. He nods in appreciation to Thorn's endless compliments, but stays mostly quiet, lost in thought.
As the meal begins to wind down, the Cardinal exchanges a brief glance with Tiadora (who has quietly supped with you but it seems to have been more of a chore than a pleasure for her). She nods ever so slightly, then stands. As she does so, the servants begin to rapidly clear away the detritus from your meal and, within minutes, the room is spotless. Curiously, each of the slaves who has attended to you over the last several months is present, lined up along one of the walls.
When the flurry of activity is over and the slaves have formed a line, Thorn rises from his high-backed chair and smiles as his dark eyes wash over you. "We are nearly done. There is one last matter to attend to. It is time to grant you the title you have earned. If you would, kindly remain silent for the next few minutes. A distraction could prove... fatal." A predatory grin and then Tiadora pulls his chair away and he moves to a more open space in the hall.
Over the next ten minutes, he begins speaking a string of prayers and labyrinthine incantations in Infernal.
By the end of it, his voice has reached a crescendo and the hall itself seems to tremble with evil until with a crack and the stench of sulfur a devil appears before the cardinal. From the tip of its lashing tail to the serrated features of its fang-filled visage, the fiery-eyed creature bristles with barbs.
The devil roars in fury and looks like it's about to attack when a third voice snaps. Tiadora:
The devil snarls and moves to strike Tiadora with its tail but, in the blind of an eye, she is next to it and a loud crack reverberates through the hall as the back of her hand contemptuously crashes into the devil's jaw. It drops to one knee from the blow and Tiadora smirks down at it, waiting to see if it has recognized its place and, when it seems to have, she steps back with a curt nod of the head to the cardinal.
"Ah, yes, now that we all understand our place..." He doesn't even deign to look at the devil he has summoned, merely holding up a hand in a gesture that it should remain where it is, while he addresses you.
"You've been here several months. Have any of the slaves displeased you or been less than satisfactory in their service?"
Not used to having slaves serve him, even now, Ineluki found nothing wanting in their service... Perhaps if he'd been more attuned and used to such treatment, he'd have been more aware of any laxity in their behavior or responsiveness.
He shakes his head slowly... shrugs... "Nothing I'm aware of, sir."
Price is more than a little distracted by the Cardinal's and Tiadora's show of power. She considers his question carefully, "No, Your Grace. The girl was most able."
Daidalos watches the proceedings with a keen eye, noting the incantations used. While he knew that his spell wouldn't be quite the same- binding outsiders, not asking for help- he still hoped he might pick up a few tips that he could use when the time came.
At the end, when Thorn presents his question, Daidalos shrugs, "Not in particular. Mine did her duty, and did it well."
During the proceedings, Affyria shares a few whispered words with Kiffex. When Thorn poses the question, she glances towards her companions, then lets her eyes drift over the slaves gathered nearby.
"I believe they have all performed admirably," Affyria says somewhat reproachfully.
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Thorn accepts the reports of the slaves' performance with an indifferent nod. "It is good to recognize leal service, but I must wonder if truly there has been no fault at all. Just as we acknowledge success, we must be able to identify examples of failure." When no candidate is readily presented, he looks to Tiadora. "And you?"
Red lips purse as if in thought while the woman languidly strolls down the line. She pauses in front of Timo's, looking into the slave's eyes with a smile for a long few seconds before saying, "This one, I think. His performance was adequate but not to expected standards -- he was fearful and lacked confidence in the performance of his duties, and was slow in disposing of the old clothes."
The slave's eyes widen as his lips tremble slightly, but he does not move. The cardinal looks to the anti-paladin, a twinkle in his eye beneath a cocked brow. "Do you object? If so, I suppose we can use the squire you found... the ogre might even be amusing. A little post-dinner entertainment."
A small smile creeps across Price's face at the idea of Timeon being entertainment for the devil. She had no interest in the boy's welfare. Only the knowledge he possessed might be of some value.
Timo entered the ball room dressed to the nines, obviously enjoying the elegance his "family" denied him before. As Thorn praises him for his skill, Timo accepts with a respectful nod, not willing to drop his guard in front of the man.
With the feast in full effect, Timo takes relish in the extravagant food. Each delectable bite was a stab at his family in his mind. As the festivities drew to a close and the slaves entered in a line at the back of the room, Timo couldn't help but raise an eyebrow out of curiosity before Thorn spoke up. As the scene plays out in front of him, Timo goes on guard. Visions of the last time he was in a room with Thorn and a demon flit through Timo's head.
As Thorn focuses his attention on him, it takes Timo a moment before he comprehends what he was asked. With as calm a voice as he can muster, Timo responds with a nonchalant attitude, "Do what you will with him... I find Tiadora's assessment to be accurate..."
Thorn nods in satisfaction that a decision is made before addressing the slaves, "As I said to them, it is important you understand it is not enough to merely perform only what is told of you, but to please your masters in what is unsaid and anticipate their needs." He walks over to the selected slave, waving Tiadora away.
In contrast to the pleasure she seemed to take in selecting the slave, Thorn's demeanor has become almost fatherly, the smile having the slightest hint of regret. "I know this may seem cruel to you, perhaps senseless, but know that you continue to serve our Father in your sacrifice. You should take pride in that." He rests a hand on the man's shoulder as he speaks then, when finished, looks to the devil still kneeling on the floor a short distance away.
Thorn pushes the slave into the direction of the devil just as it leaps forward. Claws and tail rend the slave in half as it bites down into the man's neck and begins to drink of his blood. The rest of the slaves all take a nervous step back from the scene but, under Tiadora's threatening gaze, none of them flee.
Thorn watches the scene unfold impassively, with neither pleasure nor disgust. The screaming is (mercifully?) brief though the sound of rending flesh seems to drag on for minutes while the smell of blood and death pervades the room. When the devil is finished, it returns to its original spot and kneels, facing the cardinal. He in turn takes a silver athame from Tiadora, a crystal goblet from a sidetable, and steps to the devil. He stares down at the devil and speaks.
The devil bows its head and extends an arm. Holding the goblet beneath the devil's wrist, Thorn slices into its arm with the athame. He collects only a small amount of blood before he heals the devil's wound and then he turns to you. "From each of you, some blood is required to complete the ritual. It matters not from where we draw it."
Daidalos sighs internally, Really? I swear, every other ritual in here requires me to give blood. Ah well.
He draws a black-bladed dagger from beneath his robes (apparently he had it with him the whole time for some reason), and with almost no hesitation, cuts a line into his palm, allowing the sparkling blood to pool for a few seconds before emptying it into the offered goblet.
Price pulls an elaborate and brutally sharp hair-pin from her coiffure, jabs her hand, and drips the blood in the chalice.
Seeing no hesitation from others in the group, Timo takes an offered and knife and draws it across his palm. He then curls his hand into a fist and lets his blood drip into the chalice.
Ineluki wonders why there's so much ritual importance placed on sharing a little blood. He sighs and winces slightly as he cuts his hand shallowly, just enough to generate a small pool of blood in his cupped palm. He pours the blood into the cardinal's goblet.
Understanding neither the ritual Thorn performs nor the exact nature of the hellish beast he had summoned, Asturu observes what seems to a ceremony of sorts with scientific curiousity. The search for a sacrifice seemed a bit too forced, but coming from the upper layers of society he knew this was a social imperative for Thorn. Without it the ceremony lacked the required .. splendor.
The death of this enchanted being, already more than a tool than a humanbeing, didn't phase Asturu at all. What does phase him is yet another unnecessary donation of blood and somewhat warily he draws his own blood, adding a few drops of his own to Thorn's mixture.
Affyria regards the ritual with slightly raised eyebrows, but without much emotion showing on her face. After a few whispered words with Kiffex, she uncovers her arm and cuts into it, adding to the impressive amount of badly healed scars she already has.
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Using the mingled blood of devil and sacrifice, Thorn proceeds to trace on each of your foreheads the unholy symbol of Asmodeus. Each time, he offers a brief prayer to the god in Infernal. When done, he proclaims:
"Behold, the Nessian Knot is forged.” He turns to the devil,
The devil nods in response to the cardinal, who then casts a spell to dismiss the fiend. That done, he turns back to you while snapping his fingers at Tiadora. She, in turn, tips her chin towards the slaves who retrieve various items and then present them to you.
Asturu receives an exquisitely crafted portable alchemist's kit.
Timo receives the full plate from Sir Balin, repaired and reworked to include runes in infernal and the unholy symbol of Asmodeus.
Daedalus receives a large tome bound in the skin of various humanoids. It is one of the 666 volumes on infernal law.
Price receives a heavy mace of cold iron, the hilt bound in leather crafted from the skin of angels.
Inelukii receives a pair of grey gloves, finely crafted yet not flamboyant.
Thorn presents each of these items to you as a token of his respect for your accomplishments and work over the last few months. These rituals complete, he proceeds to the next order of business.
“You have two objectives. First, you will see a shipment of munitions delivered to a bugbear chieftain named Sakkarot Fire-Axe. He makes his camp on the northern coast of Lake Tarik beyond the Watch Wall. With this shipment, the Fire-Axe will have resources enough to unite the barbarous humanoid tribes of the north and light the fire of war.
“The ship is called the Frosthamar, captained by Kargeld Odenkirk. Tomorrow when the ship is resupplied it will be your transport. The captain is a ruthless mercenary and not to be trusted. He knows nothing of the specifics of our mission and you should keep it that way. He knows he is smuggling cargo to the north beyond the Watch Wall. That is all he need know.
“Once the cargo is safely delivered, he will take you just south across the lake under cover of darkness and land you near the town of Aldencross. There our contract with Captain Odenkirk will be concluded.
“It is shame how greedy he has proven. I had hoped to let the captain serve me again but it seems he is too much of a liability. Kill him. Kill his crew. Burn his ship and leave no survivors. It is crucial that no one suspects our involvement and that loose ends are taken care of. Be sure to reclaim the coin I gave him. Best not to be wasteful.
“That done, you will begin your second task. We will do more still to aid our ally the Fire-axe. The bugbears are mighty warriors but poor siege engineers. You will infiltrate the tower Balentyne, keystone of the Watch Wall, kill its commander and open the gate for Sakkarot’s horde.
“Once the shaggy monstrosities pierce the Watch Wall, the bugbears will pillage and lay waste to the townships of the north and the local garrisons will have no choice but to meet the Fire-Axe in the open field. Sakkarot is the most brilliant, gifted and murderous bugbear of his generation. I expect these battles will go poorly for the knights and yeoman of fair Talingarde.
“Do all of this and then when your task is done, break this clay seal.” He hands Affyria a delicately carved clay seal adorned with a tangled knot of thorns surrounding the holy symbol of Asmodeus. “I will have more instructions then. Succeed and I will see you rewarded handsomely. Fail or betray me and you will pray for the comfort of Hell before I am done with you.
“The mission you start upon today is a holy mission. The people of Talingarde think they have seen the last of the mighty Asmodeus. Soon enough we will remind them that there is no escaping the grasp of Hell. Let us toast our success.”
He pours one glass of deep red wine for each of you and then finally pours one for himself. He raises the glass and offers a toast.
“To war.”
Daidalos listens intently to Thorns plan, mentally drawing up a map in his mind as Thorn describes their mission. He says nothing through out, but when offered a toast, he replies in kind, "To war."
Ineluki takes the gloves and turns them over in his hands a few times before slipping them on... He turns back with a little smile to listen to all of Thorn's words. I've never been on a boat before.. I hope I don't get seasick. Still, serving this man has its perks... and rewards.
When it comes to the toast, he lifts his glass, says flatly, "War." and drinks.
Price examines the cloak more closely.
[dice=Spellcraft (Cloak)]1d20+5
Affyria accepts the seal and stows it away on her person. She raises her glass along with him and echoes, "To war."
When the moment passes, she asks, "The squire, Timeon, can he accompany us? He is from Balentyne, I believe he said, and he might prove to have useful information."
A horde of murderous bugbears rampaging across the land? While I see the merit in weakening the regime, I wonder if they might do more harm than good, Affyria can't help but wonder.
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Price raises her glass with the others but offers no words. War is nice, victory is better.
She puts down her emptied glass and admires the mace. Whatever else could be said of Thorn, he had fine taste in weaponry. The macehead was shaped like a seraph, face covered by its hands and shoulders bowed in despair. It's six wings were bent and broken, forming the sharpened spikes of the weapon's head. And the shaft was sculpted to appear as a set of barbed and entangling chains dragging the seraph to Hell. It is... lovely.
At Affyria's suggestion, she offers an opinion. "Timeon is neither trained nor loyal to our cause. I don't like the idea of returning an unstable boy to his homeland. We should question him here, then leave him behind."
Thorn pauses in his tasting of the wine. Questions of marginal bearing on the mission he’d expected, but a discussion of the squire...
He smiles as he returns to his chair and sits, seemingly content to let his Ninth resolve the squire’s fate themselves. He gestures at a slave and points to his goblet: More wine!
Meanwhile, Tiadora stands quietly in a corner with a bored expression while balancing the tip of the athame on a finger.
Daidalos nods. He had likewise been thinking on the fate of Timeon. He had proven to be... quite agreeable in the few times he had visited the boy in the past months.
"Will there be a place for Timeon here?" he asks Thorn/Tiadora, "Will he be safe if we were to leave him? I doubt he is quite yet ready to perform such open treason on Talingarde, but he may be the source of some useful information yet. And, properly corrupted, he might yet be a valuable minion for the future. And Grumblejack? I doubt he'd fit on a boat, and I doubt his potential use in regards to a mission that requires stealth and speed."
Ineluki lofts a brow when he sees Thorn's gesture for more wine... sorta think he'd expect to have his needs anticipated and filled without orders... that surprises me he'd tolerate such a lapse. Ah well, I guess I just don't know enough about lords and servants. He looks over at the servant who'd been assigned to him and gives him a little smile and a wink, licking his lips. I will miss the company even if it was mostly silent and submissive.
Thorn’s smile turns into pursed lips as he swallows his wine before waving his free hand in a devil may care fashion. ”Ah, well, should you leave him... who’s to say, really?”
Tiadora rolls her eyes slightly and answers a bit more directly. ”This isn’t an orphanage for wayward squires. He’ll bend to my will or...” She shrugs as she slips the athame into her robes.
"Oh, I don't doubt he'll be most agreeable. However, I would prefer it if he weren't a mindless puppet by the time we return. Surely you understand the potential there for a noble-born youth, with all sorts of information we don't even know will be useful yet? And what of the ogre? He is most certainly a valuable asset. Would we return from the north to find them hollowed-out shells?" Daidalos asks.
Tiadora arches a brow at the aasimar’s tone of questioning while Thorn covers a low chuckle with another sip of his wine. She replies, ”I understand that and more. As I said... it will be the one, or the other. It’s as the Master wishes’”
Thorn half chokes on his wine and glares (playfully?) at Tiadora. ”Oh, damn it. Why did you have to bring me into this. I thought you were mistress of this house? You certainly act like it.”
The blonde-haired woman just looks at Thorn impassively, giving him nothing to play off of, so with a deep sigh he relents and addresses Daedalos. ”We have many assets. All valuable, some less so. I am not in the practice of nursemaiding children, nor brutes. If you want to keep them, it is your responsibility to see to them. They may indeed be useful, to you, in your mission. That is for you to decide.”
Not wanting to get into an argument before the Master or Tiadora, Asturu takes a gentle step away from Daedalos to distance himself from the mage's pushy nature. "The ogre cannot come with us which means that his fate is out of our hands, Daedalos. As for Timeon, I could always see to it that he's addled during our travels, but I lack the refined mannerisms to steer him onto the path we so desire. However, that's a discussion we best not bother our revered Master with."
Nudge nudge, wink wink, come on, take the bait, brother.
As Asturu talks, Daidalos nods, thinking, "Well, I suppose it will be a good test for him. Should he prove troublesome, we can always deal with it then. Will the boat be big enough for Grumblejack? Both could be useful in the field; Timeon can tend to the camp, and the ogre can serve as extra muscle when needed." he turns to the others of the Ninth Knot, "Any objections to bringing the ogre and the squire?" and back again to Thorn, "That's all, my master. Apologies."
Interesting. It seems our powerful benefactor does overlook things at times. I would have assumed he would have been more meticulous in the execution of his plans.
"Since we will be infiltrating a Talirean fortress, bringing Grumblejack along might prove troublesome. Perhaps we can leave him at the bugbear camp, though."
Affyria turns towards Thorn. "What about this Sakkarot, Master, can he be trusted? Bugbears are usually not known for answering to any regime or higher callings."
Thorn nods to Affyria, "An ogre in the mix with Sakkarot's forces would hardly be unusual. Once you've reached the southern shore, you'd likely be unable to bring him across the Watch Wall if you decided you needed him, but it would be doable. As for the bugbear, he is an admirable chieftain and unusually smart for his kind. He is a devotee of Asmodeus, so you can trust him as far as that."