Absalom Abberations - A Pathfinder Society Tale

Game Master Brian Minhinnick

Argor folds his hands across his desk. "What is the nature of this threat?"

"These people are like the Onyx Alliance except crazier. Much crazier. They're worshippers of an Old God named... known as the Yellow King. If I had to make an educated guess, they're probably gearing up to invade your residence with the end goal of kidnapping me. Yeah, they have a really personal grudge. Even if I just relocated, there is no guarantee they won't attack you all for being my allies."

"I see," Argor says as he processes the data, both new and old. "And what, precisely, was the nature of your association with them?"

Before Sabrina can answer, Argor raises a hand to pause her, "Before you reply, I have one suggestion. Know that I have never lied to you, nor do I suspect that you have lied to me. I would like to keep it that way. I have done my research on both you and Gianluca. I hope you do not take offense, but do you think me foolish enough to take strangers into my home on the word of the Society alone and not do my own investigations into their nature? I also have assessed that you are keen enough to know that going straight to the source, in this case, you and he, that the information would be skewed and biased by default. Just as if you expected to learn of me from just my own accounts. Also, it should be said that breaking a trust with me is a trust that is difficult to repair. So I ask you again, what, precisely, was the nature of your association with The Yellow King?"

Sabrina pauses for a long moment, weighing her options.

"I'm sure that it's on my record somewhere in the Grand Lodge, so you deserve cookies for doing your homework, but I was... involved with His cult for a time," Sabrina replies wearily. "Not my proudest life's choice. I was drawn in with promises of power and influence. Naturally, as with most cults, those promises were nonsense. Ultimately, I was just a pawn on His chessboard to further His ambitions. I left after seeing how destructive The Yellow King's desires were. In all honesty, I'm surprised the Society let me stick around, but then again, I never acted against them. Anything else you want to know?"

Argor can sense that Sabrina is definitely telling the truth, though she seems quite rattled by the entire situation.

Argor listens quietly, without emotion, until she finishes. "And what level was your association? This is important, as if their zeal for retribution would be greater for someone deeply involved in their following, as opposed to simply tying up the loose end of a failed recruit. Based on your earlier statement about attempting an assault on Verde Heights..." he purposely leaves his sentence hanging.

The morning after their mission in Dreng's vault concludes, the Pathfinders notice that the streets of Absalom are abuzz with excitement. There seems to be a noted increase in tourists and foreigners blundering their way through the streets as well. It only takes them a moment to realize why - it's almost Independence Day of course! With all the recent threats and drama the annual celebration had slipped the Freaks' minds until preparations for the festivities started.

Based off their past experiences, the partying will ramp up over the next few days, until four days hence. On the evening of Independence Day is the biggest event, the annual Passion of the First Siege of Absalom, where hundreds dress in elaborate costume, don fake armor and weaponry, and crowd the Irorium floor to participate in a mock combat, reenacting the first siege of Absalom. The performance is one of the premier social events of the year, and just plain fun. If the Freaks weren't interested in participating on those grounds, they also know that the Society frequently sponsors the event. They get the feeling that they will be required at the Passion in one capacity or another.

"I was a priestess. In terms of ranking, I suspect that I was the equivalent to a high ranking enforcer as well," answers Sabrina quietly. "Truthfully, though, I'm not entirely sure what I ultimately was to Him, Argor. He messed with my head a lot. Under those circumstances, you can never be actually certain of the truth..."

Argor can tell that Sabrina is trying her hardest to answer his questions to the best of her ability.

Argor studies Sabrina thoroughly for several long moments.

"What strengths and weaknesses are you privy to, given your inside knowledge?" he asks, placing both of his spellbooks on the desk in front of him.

"The Yellow King isn't a true deity. He is more on par with a Demon Lord or an Archdevil," explains Sabrina thoughtfully. "As such, I doubt that He is present Himself on Golarion. With all the other deities around, it would too... risky for Him. None of Golarion's core deities really like the Old Gods, so no one would really mind if, say, Iomedae showed up to personally smite The Yellow King if He actually manifested. I suspect that it would be like what happened with Rovagug.

"His followers? Like Nordis, they're zealots. They fight to the death with little regard for their personal health. That makes them fierce foes, but... well, their favorite tactic is usually to toss wave after wave of their men at their enemies. They also love to use Enchantment spells, especially ones that induce different forms of insanity. My... underlings were particularly privy to attacking the most threatening looking thing in the room."

"Fortunately," Argor says with a smirk, "I, too, am fond of having waves and waves of underlings deal with foes. And also have enchantments to turn them against one another as well."

"Have you located their base of operations? What sort of space will we have at our disposal?"

"I have. They're lurking in an old opera house, a favorite hidey hole for the Yellowfolk. It's near the Chelish part of the Foreign Quarter. From what I've gathered, it's been 'closed for repairs' for a few months. I haven't been inside personally, but the building looked... spacey. From personal experience, they have to be. Performing dynamic opera for Him is... an old, favored tradition for them."

"Very well then. I shall make preparations. Give me ninety minutes," Argor says as he rings a bell. A moment later, Reginald enters, still eyeing Argor's new form curiously.

"Reginald. Ms. Henderson and I have something to attend to, I need you to procure tickets to The Passion for myself and m'Lady. Make sure the seats are the finest available."

The butler nods and bows, before turning and exiting.

He looks to Sabrina and asks, "Anything else?"

"Oh!"

Sabrina rubs her arm sheepishly.

"If they recognize who I am, they might say... things to... throw us off. Take their words with a bag of salt, Argor. The Yellow King and his ilk are a special kind of Evil, but unlike Nordis cultists, they can sound eerily convincing when they so desire. If you want any answers afterward, I will try to explain to the best of my ability."

Cladissa sits mostly quiet during the debriefing, absent-mindedly rubbing her throat. She accepts the coin at the conclusion and leaves with the rest, but instead of heading to Verde Heights she brings up her usual illusion and takes flight toward the center of the city: the Ascendant Court.

She gives the Temple of the Starstone Cathedral a wide berth as she spots her destination. The Seventh Church rises into the sky behind the Iomedaenne, the limestone-and-sapphire statue of the Inheritor herself. Circling around the temple, she sees a throng of people leaving. Surmising that the ceremony commemorating Iomedae's Eleventh Act has concluded, she lands just outside the crowd and begins to weave her way toward the church.

After several minutes of working through the crowd, she is able to gain entry and asks one of the acolytes for Sir Preston Riverwyne. She guides Cladissa into one of the antechambers where the paladin, resplendent in his polished armor and crisp white tabard, smiles when he sees her.

They embrace, the look on his face full of relief. "I'm so glad to see you safe. How did the mission go?" His smile fades when he sees Cladissa's look.

"Can we go somewhere private?" she asks him. He nods, and he takes her into a small shrine for quiet meditation and contemplation before a permanent illusion of the goddess. When they both enter, her full battle regalia shifts and suddenly she is in a simple robe.

Cladissa blinks at the sudden change in the image. Preston shrugs. "Not sure why it does that sometimes. Some say it's in response to the occupants. I almost always see her in her armor." He takes her hands and leads her to a pair of cushions before the silent image and has her sit down. "This is a confessional. Nothing shared here will escape these walls," he says as he sits next to her.

Cladissa eyes the image of the goddess somewhat nervously, but her expression is peaceful and understanding, not nearly as fierce and standoffish as she is usually depicted. She allows her illusion to drop, and she lifts her head to the soft illumination of the chamber, showing him the faint lines of the freshly healed wounds she suffered earlier that morning.

Preston's chiseled face lines with concern. "That looks like it was nasty."

Cladissa forces a smile. "Worse. It was fatal."

He blinks in surprise. "But-- wait, did you actually--?"

She shakes her head. "No. When my throat was torn out, I should have bled out right there. But the black ichor that is my blood didn't flow like it should have. It's ironic. The change that the demons wrought in me actually saved my life."

Preston sits in silence for a while as he thinks on that. After a long pause, Cladissa speaks again. "I've not been fair to you. You were such a surprise, and you seemed too good to be true. So, I refused to believe it. It's not that I didn't trust you, I didn't trust myself."

The paladin just sits quietly, but his face shows a fair amount of understanding.

Cladissa continues, "if I'm to keep this brooch, I need to start trusting. I have to start believing. Death is just around the corner. I need a divine patron, and I need to live without the regret I'd have if I didn't try to love you."

Preston tilts his head as his eyes go wide. "Cladissa, what are you saying?"

She smiles at him. "I'm saying that I want to choose Iomedae. I want you to show me how to worship her. And I want... you," she finishes with a blush.

There is excitement evident on his face as he reaches out and takes her hands. But he quickly tempers it, eyes full of concern. "Are you sure? You've just had a trying day, obviously. This is a big step. There's no rush."

Cladissa squeezes her eyes and shakes her head vehemently. "No, there really is. I've wasted time, and my enemies are still out there. I want-- I need to set things right in case the next threat manages to succeed in killing me."

Preston nods, understanding. He rises to his feet. "All right, then. Stay here and meditate while I go see if Genedair the Faithful is available. I think he'd like to take you through the rites."

========================

She had sat and stared at the image of Iomedae, her heart thudding for some reason, for what must have been an hour before Preston returned.

"Here. You'll need this." He hands her a long sword which she takes and awkwardly holds in one hand. She looks at it uncertainly, then back to him. "It's tradition," he says simply, then escorts her out of the meditation chamber.

Cladissa remembers to bring up her illusion before they leave and head to the inner sanctum of the temple. There seated in the pulpit is the ancient form of Genedair the Faithful, high priest of the Seventh Church.

"Welcome, Cladissa Velorryan," the old man wheezes once she takes her place kneeling before him and a massive shrine to the Inheritor. "I have heard of you. I have have been told of your deeds of valor, and most importantly, compassion. On your own, without guidance, you have maintained a good heart and even moreso, acted upon it. I have no doubt that Iomedae will welcome you into her fold."

A smile grows on Cladissa's face as the aged priest speaks, and she glances over to Preston and sees him smiling as well. "Thank you. I--"

"However," Genedair says, forcefully interrupting her, "this is not to be taken lightly, nor for frivolous reasons." His faded eyes still keenly glance over toward the knight before refocusing on her. "Do you feel called to Iomedae's service?"

Cladissa's mind works, suddenly feeling sluggish. "Ah, I feel called to fight evil. Isn't that the same thing?"

The old man shakes his head. "No. To serve Iomedae is to trust in Iomedae. To heed her call without question, and to face the evils in the world unflinchingly. Can you do this?"

A frown touches her lips, and she feels Preston's eyes on her, though she doesn't look in his direction. She'd fought so many foul creatures and though she was frequently scared, she stayed and fought -- most of the time. She remembered a couple times supernatural fear had gotten the better of her, but that was different, right? Maybe she should have taken Preston's advice and taken a moment to really reflect on what she was doing.

But ultimately, would this change anything about who she was? She wanted to protect her friends, but even more, she wanted to protect others. Those who she didn't even know, but would benefit from the good she did. The thought that potentially years later, complete strangers could be living a better, safer life thanks to her efforts made her feel uplifted.

This priest was testing her, she realizes. She smiles at him. "Yes."

"Very well. Grip your sword and touch it to the altar. Kneel before it." As Cladissa does so, Genedair nods to Preston. The paladin takes a holy symbol and hangs it off the hilt of the sword. "Now, repeat these words: I give my life over to Iomedae. I renounce evil and its agents. I will uphold the teachings of the Inheritor, for they are the teachings of honor and justice. May she guide my sword in battle and temper my tongue in speech. By her eleven deeds, I am hers and she shall forever be my captain, my patron, and my goddess."

Cladissa recites the words clearly and without hesitation. When she finishes, Genedair tells her, "Arise, daughter of Iomedae."

She stands, and a beaming Sir Preston girds a belt around her waist, hanging the sword from it. He then ties string holding the holy symbol around her neck. Cladissa hugs him tightly and presses her lips hard against his.

They kiss for a long moment until a pair of acolytes shoo the pair out of the sanctum, stating that Genedair the Faithful needed his rest.

===========

After the ceremony, Sir Preston walks Cladissa around the Seventh Church to show her many of the great works of art dedicated to the Inheritor, then takes her across the street to the Tempering Hall to show her the paladins in training.

They walk hand-in-hand for a while, stealing kisses every so often. The sun was beginning to set when all of a sudden Cladissa is hit with a mystical message. She stands still for a moment, then responds, "Yes, that's wonderful! Thank you! I shall be there, absolutely!"

She then turns to the puzzled Sir Preston, bouncing up and down excitedly. "That was Evigail! The Council will be considering my slavery reforms tomorrow! They'll hear my presentation! She says the time is right; that it's got a majority of votes!" She laughs as she falls into Sir Preston's embrace.

"Praise Iomedae!" they both shout in unison.

"Oh! We might be getting some help, Argor; even with all your awesome magics, it might a little difficult to fight these fools with just you, me, and Turkey. Let me think about what Auronee said. I was in quite a rush."

Sabrina takes a seat and starts reflecting about her attempt to petition Auronee for assistance.

An hour earlier...

"Windy? Captain Windy?" Sabrina calls out as she knocks on the door of her best friend's house. "Are you there? I really need your help with something! I'm calling in that favor I earned when I sank that battleship for you! Please? Pretty please?"

Cladissa had returned to Verde Heights shortly after receiving the sending, leaving Sir Preston at the Tempering Hall and flying back in order to put the finishing touches on her speech. She had explained her proposal so many times to so many interested parties that she could practically present it in her sleep. However, this was the big one. So she went over every part of the plan again that evening, refining the various points she planned on making. She only allowed herself to be interrupted when a scream shook the manor. Once she determined it to be Argor, but that he was relatively fine, she returned to her work. She had a huge day ahead of her; he would understand.

=======================

"-- So you see, the Ministry of Slavery and Indentured Servitude will not only monitor the trading practices and treatment of slaves -- ensuring that the newly enumerated rights are not being violated -- it will also purchase slaves from masters at a generous price when adverse circumstances prevent those masters from providing their slaves basic care, or when those slaves become unable to perform their usual work. Those slaves will then work for the Ministry for a set period of time as indentured servants before earning their complete freedom. Therefore, thanks to the startup costs being covered by the generous donations from various benefactors, the Ministry will be largely self-funding. Without a doubt, slaves who are well-treated and given the prospects of a better future will be more productive, resulting in a net positive for both slave and responsible slave owner. I anticipate slave revolts will become a thing of the past once they are given rights to air grievances. With these reforms to curb the worst excesses of the slave trade, and with the Ministry at its core, Absalom's future will be one that is safer, more secure, and far more productive for all its citizens. Thank you."

The presentation had gone well, Cladissa thinks as she wraps up her speech and awaits the few planned questions from the supporters. Most of the anticipated objections had already been addressed in her presentation. She smiles at Evigail and Lord Hueff, who both nod at her approvingly. While some of the Council's faces are unreadable, she counts the supporters in the majority.

She glances up briefly into the gallery, knowing that Sir Preston and several of her friends had turned out to watch her speech. While they were unable to do anything but observe, she feels immeasurably grateful for their presence. Not sure who wants to attend.

"I am now prepared to answer your questions," she says, glancing about the Council.

Argor sets to his preparations, studying his spellbooks for magics suited to the described task at hand. It is slowed, somewhat, by distractions caused by Sabrina as she pokes around at some of the oddities and decorations in his lavish office. He repeatedly has to pause to ask her to not touch something, or explain something else's significance.

Eventually, however, he completes his preparations and his red eyes look to the druidess. He holds his left hand out, and a staff made of dark metal floats across the room to it. As Argor closes his hand around it, the white stone at the top flares with energy, faint red tendrils of arcane power flowing across it as if searching for something. Rutai appears atop Argor's right shoulder with a mischievous grin as the mage says, "Let us go."

"Good to know. Auronee will be meeting us nearby," says Sabrina as she signs for Turkey to follow her and Argor from the air.

Yig's Champion leads Argor through a series of twists and turning streets and alleys. Very occasionally, they stumble upon a rather sinister symbol, and Sabrina reroutes them around it.

"That's the Yellow Sign," the druidess explains quietly. "Ninety-nine times out of hundred, it's just graffiti; the other one time it's a rune He uses to control your mind."

Sabrina shivers.

Eventually, they reach their destination: a tucked away street corner with a good view to the looming opera house.

"There's Windy," remarks Sabrina as she waves down her friend. "Hey, Auronee! I managed to recruit Argor. So, uh, any thoughts about how we should go about this? The building is solid stone, so even we could legally get away with it, we can't just collapse the place on them."

Cladissa had returned to Verde Heights shortly after receiving the sending, leaving Sir Preston at the Tempering Hall and flying back in order to put the finishing touches on her speech. She had explained her proposal so many times to so many interested parties that she could practically present it in her sleep. However, this was the big one. So she went over every part of the plan again that evening, refining the various points she planned on making. She only allowed herself to be interrupted when a scream shook the manor. Once she determined it to be Argor, but that he was relatively fine, she returned to her work. She had a huge day ahead of her; he would understand.

=======================

"-- So you see, the Ministry of Slavery and Indentured Servitude will not only monitor the trading practices and treatment of slaves -- ensuring that the newly enumerated rights are not being violated -- it will also purchase slaves from masters at a generous price when adverse circumstances prevent those masters from providing their slaves basic care, or when those slaves become unable to perform their usual work. Those slaves will then work for the Ministry for a set period of time as indentured servants before earning their complete freedom. Therefore, thanks to the startup costs being covered by the generous donations from various benefactors, the Ministry will be largely self-funding. Without a doubt, slaves who are well-treated and given the prospects of a better future will be more productive, resulting in a net positive for both slave and responsible slave owner. I anticipate slave revolts will become a thing of the past once they are given rights to air grievances. With these reforms to curb the worst excesses of the slave trade, and with the Ministry at its core, Absalom's future will be one that is safer, more secure, and far more productive for all its citizens. Thank you."

The presentation had gone well, Cladissa thinks as she wraps up her speech and awaits the few planned...

The Chairman of the council nods. "We have a private individual who has asked permission to air evidence they feel is germane to our deliberations, Ms. Velorryan. We have no further questions for you, and will hear him now. The Council calls Lord Roald Havaari of Absalom to provide testimony."

The doors at the rear of the room open, and Roald walks in. He is dressed in the full finery of a wealthy nobleman, and there is an angry glint in his eye. He smirks at Cladissa as he brushes past her to the stand.

"Good day to you, Auronee," Argor says politely.

"Indeed. Nor do I desire to explain the loss of a historic building. Let us be somewhat subtle about this," Argor replies to Sabrina.

"Alrighty then. Breaking down the front door is probably too... risky. However, there is a side door right over there..."

Sabrina points it out.

"Auronee, can you pick the lock? Given its age, it shouldn't be too difficult. Just be weary of those Yellow Signs I told you about. I didn't see any there on my first sweep, and it takes time to make them, but still..."

Cladissa's mouth goes suddenly dry and her heart hammers in her chest so hard she's afraid her ribs might break. Roald?!? What in all the Realms--?

Fighting for her voice, she stammers, "My lords? This is... What is this?" as she takes several steps back from her old acquaintance.

Grommesson informs Argor that he doesn't trust himself on the streets with so many people. The youth is worried he will lose control of his beast in the chaos, and so plans to stay within the grounds of Verde Heights for the time being.

Cladissa's mouth goes suddenly dry and her heart hammers in her chest so hard she's afraid her ribs might break. Roald?!? What in all the Realms--?

Fighting for her voice, she stammers, "My lords? This is... What is this?" as she takes several steps back from her old acquaintance.

** spoiler omitted **

Her friends in the council look confused, but her enemies don't. Too bad the Chairman isn't one of Cladissa's. He ignores her question and continues formally, "Mr. Havaari what is it that you have to present to this council?"

Roald bows his head briefly to acknowledge the question. "My esteemed lord Chairman, I take it the Council is well aware of Ms. Velorryan's reputation as a Pathfinder agent?"

The Chairman nods, motioning Roald to continue.

"Then the council is no doubt aware that "the Freaks" (he emphasizes the moniker) have recently had several run ins with demons in the City..."

The chairman nods again.

"What council is no doubt much less aware of, due to a careful cover up, is that Ms. Velorryan was taken by said demons and very nearly became one of them!" Roald's sudden viciousness shocks the council as he rams each word of his declaration home with a pointed finger.

The horrified Chairman turns to Cladissa. "What is this? What is he saying?"

"Certainly," Argor says as he cautiously follows the others inside. Once within the confines of the building, he says to the women, "A moment..." as his hands begin the practices motions of a summon.

A fiery portal appears, an oppressive heat radiating through as a muscle-bound Bearded Devil steps through. It looks to Argor, snarls a smile, and gives a salute. "Your command, Summoner?"

"Protect me and my allies to the best of your ability. Dispatch any who threaten us. Taking prisoners is preferable, but not required should they not surrender," Argor commands, to which the devil nods and tightens his grip on his black glaive.

Cladissa stares dumbfoundedly at Roald. It was surreal; her head swam and she clutched at the railing for support.

Panicked thoughts seize her as her mind spins, trying to process this. How does he know? He shouldn't know, what is he doing here? "My Lords, I don't know what he's trying to do," she says, completely off-balance.

Desperately, she thinks at him, ::Roald, why are you doing this?::

Sabrina calls down Turkey and reinforces the bird's defenses. Yig's Champion then does the same for herself. After taking a swig of Tears to Wine from her canteen, she turns to her allies and offer them a drink.

"I know I said this earlier, but their leaders might start... talking. Take their words with a barrel of salt."

Sabrina then shifts into a massive celestial dire tiger, and after taking a few seconds to scan the immediate area, she begins to lead the raid.

Not much happens immediately. Even if it has been closed down for a while, the opera house is still in a state of good repair. Its grand Chelish influence is very obvious (as well a few subtle Infernal touches). However, after approximately two empty rooms, the group meets their first batch of foes...

"I'm telling you! I sensed the magic of the Father... Intruders!" yells a man in yellow robes and bandages. Before he can draw his rapier, Sabrina pounces, bring him down to the ground in a whirl of claws and fang.

More cultists soon appear from seeming nowhere, and much to Sabrina's predictions, they start to swarm the Pathfinders...

"By the authority of the Varlokkur, I command you all to stand down!" Argor says imperiously as he hovers up in the air. Seeing their persistence, he says, "Kill them until they learn the folly of their ways."

The devil sneers and lunges into combat, cutting into the cultists with his glaive as Argor conjures some magics over the cultists to their right. The flesh around their eyes turn ashen, and their eyes glow crimson as they mostly stop in their tracks, some babbling, others stabbing their own allies. Soon enough, the whole cluster is fighting one another.

As this chaos develops, Argor turns to his left and says some more words of magic, as an extra-dimensional pit filled with sharp spikes opens up, seemingly swallowing another wave of cultists whole! Their anguished screams echo from the bottom of the forty foot pit...

Cladissa stares dumbfoundedly at Roald. It was surreal; her head swam and she clutched at the railing for support.

Panicked thoughts seize her as her mind spins, trying to process this. How does he know? He shouldn't know, what is he doing here? "My Lords, I don't know what he's trying to do," she says, completely off-balance.

Desperately, she thinks at him, ::Roald, why are you doing this?::

Cladissa receives only a feeling of mindless rage in return, the mental equivalent of a middle finger.

"Notice, she does not deny the truth. Her true form is akin to a succubus. I know this because she broke into my home, magically coerced me, and....the shame....raped me."

The chairman's eyes bulge. "She what?!"

Roald drops his gaze, unable to meet the eyes of the gathered lords. "She raped me, damn it! She had her way with me. This woman is no agent of good, she is a bringer of chaos! She used me like a slave and then covered it up, covers her true self up even now! She was born noble and now she hates that she can't be like us, and wants only to destroy all semblance of order. Her proposal will not end slave rebellions, it will multiply them like the freshly sliced head of a pernicious hydra! This succubus speaks only clever lies, meant to lead us astray, milords! On whatever tatter of honor I have left...I beg you, do not listen to her lies." Roald is quivering with rage as he finishes, breath heaving.

The gallery is silent.

Cladissa recoils in horror at the accusation. "No... I'm not... It didn't happen that way!" She looks desperately at the council members, then back to Roald. "No! No no no. Oh, gods... Iomedae? Please, stop. Stop, it's not true, he's lying! I'm not a succubus..."

Tears begin to fall as her whole body trembles.

The chairman turns to a priest at the side of the room. "Truthseer?"

The man nods, praying to Abadar and then casting a spell on Cladissa.

Dispel CL check: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (9) + 12 = 21

The priest's spell strips away Cladissa's disguise, revealing her true form to the room. He hesitates, as if he hadn't expected that.

The Chairman's eyes bulge even further. Even Cladissa's allies on the council lean back in shocked horror.

"What is the meaning of this, Ms. Velorryan!? Do you take us for fools!? This Council meeting is hereby adjourned, we will finish our deliberations in private session!" He slams his gavel down in disgust at the spectacle made of his session. None of the councilors object, and they all stand quickly to leave.

The chairman turns to Cladissa, Roald and the audience. "All of you will clear this room in the next three minutes! Anyone remaining will be arrested for obstruction and trespassing."

Most people hasten to leave, whispering to each other and staring openly at Cladissa.

Needless to say, the Pathfinders quickly crush the Yellow King's cultists.

Once their enemies stop pouring out of the woodwork like roaches, everyone takes a few seconds to catch their breath. However, knowing that Argor's fiend is on a clock, they press forward at a careful but steady pace. Sabrina helps them avoid any of the sinister Yellow Signs.

They eventually stumble upon a library of sorts.

Sabrina takes a glance at some random documents and quickly looks away in disgust. Many of the papers are in Aklo, but some of them are in more common languages. They contain detailed battle plans for brutal assaults on both the Taldor embassy and Argor's estates. The proposed fates of the Pathfinders and their associates are not for the faint of heart. While it is likely the attacks would have ultimately failed, it is not hard to imagine what might happen to common folk like Mr. Goodpies or Auronee's servants who got caught in the crossfire...

Sabrina seems... lost in thought.

Argor sets to collecting the various documents as evidence, tucking them away in an interior pocket of his robes.

"Not a very creative collection of minds, are they?" Argor says as he looks over their planned tortures and nonchalantly adds them to his evidence stash. "Well, Sabrina? Where is the head of the snake?"

Once he has sufficient evidence, he flips open his spellbook and skims it a moment before closing it and putting it away.

Sabrina sniffs the air and then points her head toward another entry way. The Pathfinders encounter a token resistance, but Turkey and Argor's Infernal friend put them down easily enough. After a couple more minutes of travel, they reach their destination.

The main stage of the opera house is just as Sabrina predicted: very spacey.

"So you've returned to us, your Majesty," calls out a light, feminine voice. Despite having lost nearly thirty men, she sounds oddly calm.

Sabrina tries her hardest not to react, but the dire tiger's wincing betrays the fact that she recognizes the speaker.

"You two. Pathfinders. Lord Hastur wants his bride back," the newcomer says in an almost bored tone. "Let us have Yig's Champion, and you may leave. If you surrender her, you will never hear from us again."

Argor shakes his head, "Based on the evidence I have compiled, madam, I find that difficult to believe. Stand down and surrender under the authority of the Varlokkur," Argor says as he floats through the chamber about ten feet behind his infernal bodyguard.

The chairman turns to a priest at the side of the room. "Truthseer?"

The man nods, praying to Abadar and then casting a spell on Cladissa.

[dice=Dispel CL check]1d20+12

The priest's spell strips away Cladissa's disguise, revealing her true form to the room. He hesitates, as if he hadn't expected that.

The Chairman's eyes bulge even further. Even Cladissa's allies on the council lean back in shocked horror.

"What is the meaning of this, Ms. Velorryan!? Do you take us for fools!? This Council meeting is hereby adjourned, we will finish our deliberations in private session!" He slams his gavel down in disgust at the spectacle made of his session. None of the councilors object, and they all stand quickly to leave.

The chairman turns to Cladissa, Roald and the audience. "All of you will clear this room in the next three minutes! Anyone remaining will be arrested for obstruction and trespassing."

Most people hasten to leave, whispering to each other and staring openly at Cladissa.

Her disguise stripped from her, Cladissa flinches hard from the stares. Choking back sobs, her leathery wings fold around to deflect the gazes from the gallery.

"If-- if I could just explain..." she says helplessly as events completely crumble around her. "Please? This was done to... me..." her voice trails off as the council members storm off and the guards begin to circle.

Complying, she gathers her tear-stained notes with trembling hands. She looks up at Roald, wondering why he would have done such a thing. Her proposal, the project she had worked so hard on... the possibility to help so many people. It was destroyed.

"No!" she shouts as the reality crashes into her. "No, come back! You have to listen!" she shouts after the council. But the guards close in and move to grab her. Reflexively, she casts a spell and she is dimensionally shifted four hundred feet into the sky. Her wings open and catch the wind.

Sabrina starts sniffing the air.

"You must be... Constatine? The 'logical' one. Fair enough. Unfortunately, we only answer to Lord Hastur," says the shadowy voice, this time from a different point in the room. "Are you certain that you don't wish to surrender The Queen in Yellow? Even after all She has done?"

Sabrina focuses her senses and then whirls around and growls a spell.

Neither Argor nor Auronee thought it possible for a druid to cast Glitterdust, but time and again, Sabrina Henderson has proven that she is no ordinary druid.

With their enemy revealed, Argor quickly puts his infamous Telekinetic Maneuver to good use. With the shadowy woman now visible, he has no issues with a line of sight and pins her down. An instant later, Sabrina glows with celestial power and blitzes her old enemy.

"Why did you betray us, Hasturia?!" the cult leader pleads, somehow ignoring the pain and logical consequences of a 6,000 pound dire tiger crashing into her. "His, Your, Our perfect world was almost a reality, and you just-"

Sabrina shifts into a five ton allosaurus and crushes the immediate area beneath her sheer weight. She continues stomping the broken ground until there is nothing left but a bloody pulp.

"And you just let it die, Hasturia," a deep but fading male voice echoes throughout the opera hall.

Its mere presence brings chills to Auronee and Argor. He sounds like He does not belong in this reality...

However, all is soon quiet...

"So much for prisoners..." the devil says with a chuckle.

Argor turns his full attention to Sabrina. "Incomplete truths, is it, then? Very well. I give you one, ONE final opportunity to tell me the whole truth, Sabrina. I feel you owe us that much. So I ask it again, with Auronee as witness: what was your level of involvement with the Cult of Hastur?" Argor asks, his pure crimson eyes glaring down at her from above.

Sabrina seems reluctant to speak with the devil present, but thankfully for her, his clock runs out, and he returns to Hell.

"...I don't... truly know, Argor," Sabrina murmurs as she shifts back to normal. "Hastur controlled... influenced me through some sort of... Yellow Crown. Before you doubt its existence, ask Gianluca. Ask my old teammates. I wore that blasted thing openly among the Society for years. It was destroyed by the temple of Abadar with Gianluca as a witness."

Turkey flies over to her friend and gives Sabrina a tentative hug.

"I remember being addressed as... Hasturia, The Queen in Yellow. I could've been His... second in command? The Queen to his King? It's just... There are so many gaps... I..."

Maybe it's not so much that Sabrina is telling incomplete truths, but rather... perhaps she does not know what the actual truth is.

"Through that Yellow Crown, He could control my senses. I saw Him when He wasn't actually here. I... We..."

Cladissa glides drunkenly through the air, flapping her demonic wings barely enough to stay airborne. Her mind immediately began coping by shutting off huge sections of rational thought and only by instinct does she somehow find Verde Heights in her devastated state.

She smashes through an upstairs window into the hallway of the guest wing and rolls to a stop at the feet of several alarmed Ulfen guards. She pulls herself to her feet, scooping up her papers that she for some reason decided to keep rather than scatter across Absalom. I can build a pretty little fire and dance in it, she thinks with a giggle.

As she stumbles into her room, that thought is dropped just as unceremoniously as the papers she dumps on the floor. She avoids thinking for a while, instead she just stands and stares vacantly outside the window, appreciating almost clinically the new and incredible heights of loss and anguish she was feeling.

Cole slinks in and mews softly, purring.

"Oh. I think it went pretty well, except for that part at the end." The bitterest, blackest bile rises in her throat and soon she is retching in the corner of her room.

When she finishes and finally collapses on her bed, her familiar jumps into her arms and comforts her as best he can. The rest of the day she refuses to come out of her room, though she does allow a servant to clean up the corner and bring her some food that she avoids eating.

Argor folds his arms and continues to glare expectantly at Sabrina.

Thanks to Argor's "encouragement" and expectancy, Sabrina continues to focus on broken memories, continuing to stitch them together.

"...His perfect world... My perfect world... Our perfect world... I... We almost had it, and... I let it... die? Mom lied to me? What was I...? But Hastur's perfect world is... would have been..."

Sabrina focuses further.

"...His ultimately goal was... true divinity. As The Queen in Yellow, as Hasturia, I almost gave it to Him...?" Sabrina realizes, her eyes going wide with dread. "How did I...?"

She closes her eyes and refuses to think further.

"I think I remember... Hastur wants to be more than just a Great Old One. He wants to be a full Outer God. He almost succeeded until I... backed off and disrupted His ritual. It seems that He never got a second chance..."

"If there is more to say on this matter, Sabrina, now is the time. There is no guilt to be had if you tell me the whole truth in this moment. Only if I learn at a later date there was more hidden away, will I feel betrayed," Argor says in his usual flat tone.

Rutai flits over and lands on Sabrina's shoulder, "He's right, ya know? Wouldn't it be better to come fully clean now? Get that weight off your shoulders?" Realizing what he just said, he clarifies, "Ya know, the secrets. Not me. Unless you WANT me off your shoulder too. Just tryin' to help, though!"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 29 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 29 + 2 = 44 Automatic Aid Another from Rutai (+14 Diplomacy)

Tears start streaming down Sabrina's eyes, but she nods in understanding nonetheless.

Yig's Champion pushes through the final mental block with ease.

"His plan... When I was little, I think Hastur chose me to enact His master plan. There is this ritual. It siphons power. He needed a powerful specific but mortal soul to use it, though. After testing it on Evil outsiders that I hunted for Him as a Pathfinder, He decided it was time to use it on... Azathoth, the greatest Outer God. However, Azathoth is the Blind Idiot God. He would have never noticed Hastur draining, killing him."

Sabrina chokes but continues.

"After he consumed Azathoth, he would have become a true Outer God, but that's not where He would have stopped. Hastur would have consumed the rest and then the Great Old Ones. And then with all that power, He would have worked to consume the Abyss, Abaddon, Hell, Elysium, Nirvana, Heaven, and everything in between. When there was nothing left, Hastur would have rebuilt... everything in His image."

Sabrina shudders at the realization.

"And if Mom and Lord Yig hadn't risked everything to stop me... I almost... helped him do that..."

Argor gets the feeling that he has truly learned everything.

Argor floats down and lands near the girl. "Then that is settled. I trust this chapter of your life is now officially closed, trod underfoot as it is?" Argor gestures with his staff to the puddle of priestess in which Sabrina is standing.

"I appreciate the honesty, as difficult as it was for you. I will not tell the others your story, for it is yours to tell them should you choose. And it was an honor to aid you in eradicating this cult before it could do any serious harm. It would seem I have another report to task my scribes with. I trust you two ladies will be fine to see yourselves out? Perhaps we could meet later for dinner at the Raven, my treat," Argor says as he takes to the air again. Before going out of sight, he adds "I trust that, if ever I need it, I can count on you for aid in my own endeavors, Sabrina?"

After her reply, he flies back to Verde Heights.

"I told you that bit about Hastur was legit!" Rutai boasts once they are well out of anyone's earshot.

"Indeed. You did well, Rutai. Roasted dove heart, as per our wager, at dinner for you tonight," Argor replies.

Rutai simply chuckles victoriously.

"Thank you, Argor. For everything. If nothing else, we saved a lot of innocent lives... That chapter has been closed on my life for years. Ask Gianluca. He knows... the surface details of this story. If you still trust me, Argor, then I will help you, provided no one innocent gets hurt," says a shaken but determined Sabrina. "I know what I did was wrong, and I vowed to never be Evil again. I don't always live up that vow, but... it's all I have left."

She pauses before leaving the opera house.

"Auronee, Argor, I accepted long ago that I will answer for my sins. If it isn't in this lifetime, then..."

The Once Queen in Yellow sighs and continues her way out, leaving the lawman to his duties.

Before departing Auronee's company, Sabrina says quietly, "When I die, if Lord Yig does not get my soul, I plan to ask Pharasma to wipe me from existence. That way... all will be safe from any further Evil of mine. I can understand if you want to be rid of me, Auronee. Just let me know. However, I still appreciate your help. You're a wonderful person, Auronee. I... wish I was more like you and not... Hasturia."

After Auronee... says her piece or not, Sabrina flies back to Verde Heights on Turkey.

Like Cladissa, she spends the much of the remaining day in her room, thinking about the past, the future, and everything that could have been...

After much debate, she exits and tries to seek out Gianluca.

"Handsome Honey, I need you. I just need... someone... I... Gianluca... Please."

The sound of a warhorse's heavy hooves ring on the cobblestones leading to Verde Heights.

Sir Preston is escorted inside and up to Cladissa's room a couple hours after her return from the disastrous hearing. "Cladissa? It's me," he says through the closed door. "Will you see me? I tried to have the Church of Iomedae intervene in the deliberations, but... well. I'm so sorry. I probably should have come sooner, but I had hoped I could... change things for you."

After a few minutes, Cladissa opens the door. She hangs her head, not able to look at him or meet his eyes. She steps back and lets him enter.

Sir Preston takes her in his arms for an embrace but she doesn't reciprocate. He still holds her for a while trying to be comforting. "We'll figure something out. I'm sure of it."

"No," she says flatly. "It's over. I can't go back there. I won't."

Preston lets go of her and she sits on her bed. He helplessly stammers several half-hearted encouragements that sound hollow even in his own ears. "I'm sorry," he says again.

"Don't be. Not for me, at least. The slaves, though. I failed them."

"It wasn't your fault, right? That man, he-- who was he? Did you and he--?"

Cladissa's flat affect shows a little more life when she shakes her head. "No. Well, yes. Sort of."

Preston sits down next to her. "I-- If you want to tell me what really happened..."

"I don't."

He nods silently. Feeling completely helpless, he finally sighs and turns to her directly. "I want to help. What can I do?"

After a long silence, she touches the holy symbol of Iomedae at her neck. "Could you go see what the Inheritor will have me do? I'm not hearing anything from her right now."

Sir Preston reluctantly stands up. "All right. I'll talk with Genedair." He slowly steps out, leaving her alone.

Argor sat in the dark of the abandoned theater the cult had used, staring into the darkness, though thanks to his enchantments, he could still see. He pondered recent developments.

A Child on the way. I am going to need to expedite some things. Put more pawns into play. Perhaps even move a few of my capital pieces a bit more aggressively...what is taking Rutai so long!?!?

Roughly ten minutes later, Rutai appears on the mantle. "Found her, boss. She didn't make it easy..."

A young, dark haired woman slowly enters the main hall. "Lady Celeena, a pleasure to meet you once again. I trust your stay in the city has been comfortable?" Argor asks rhetorically.

Celeena saunters in and sits at another seat of the abandoned theater. She studies the new "Argor" a moment before replying. "It is fine. Better than what I had to deal with in Cheliax. What is it you want?" she asks as she casts a glare to Rutai. "I don't like being summoned."

"Truly, but that is something in which I am well versed. Wordplay aside, I have a task for you. Some things have developed that have caused me to need to expedite some longterm plans, and there is one task for which I need your particular talents."

"And that would be?" she asks.

"Have you heard of the Cornucopias of Absalom?" Argor asks, with an eager look in his eye...