The first few months of the training were difficult, though Cladissa busied herself outside of training by helping construct a better series of shelters. She would have Argor fabricate various poles and beams, which then she would use to lash sheets of silk that she'd taken to weaving.
She quickly grew to appreciate her ring of sustenance. Not only did it provide the necessary nutrients to live, but she no longer suffered from protein deficiency whenever she produced too much spider's silk. She busied herself crafting clothes, bedding, decorations and other objects with the silk during their respites from training.
As the time wore on and the mental strain piled up, Cladissa grew more outrageous with her designs. Her own corner of the demiplane was soon a tangled nightmare of spider webs. She took to wearing her web clothing exclusively, some of it surprisingly risque for her usual prudish self. Even though she never got bestial like the one time with the formula, it was evident that the time and her mutations were having an effect on her.
Cole was thankfully a stabilizing presence even as sanity slipped from her and the others. When she finally learned heal, it was just in time, as she had been increasingly spiderlike in her mindset.
She used heal on herself and her friends repeatedly to keep the insanity of their situation at bay during the next year. The next major respite came when she learned her hex that allowed her to remake and reshape her domain through a powerful illusion.
She immediately used it to good effect, adding light, color, fragrance, warm fires and cool breezes to her paced-off section that she claimed. She shared it with the others, and provided much-needed "vacations" to as many places as she could imagine. She also would create other locales as the others could best describe, so with the help of Thrassk she created numerous Tian temples and villas, and Arshean bathhouses for Gianluca that she would quickly scurry out of before he started using it.
Of course part of the challenge was not just the environment, but the lack of other humanoid contact beyond those in the demiplane with her. She regretted repeatedly saying no to Argor, and the constant rutting between Thrassk and Gianluca did not help matters. But she felt that staying chaste was one of the only ways to truly hang on to herself. So she managed through herculean effort.
* * *
Stepping from the demiplane when the ordeal was finally over was a strange sensation. Like a long-term prisoner of deep confinement would feel the world overly large and bright, she had to fight to resist the urge to race to the darkest corner of the building and start weaving a series of webs around her.
Her spells of healing had staved off true insanity, but it couldn't wholly remove the toll it had taken on her mind. Only time could do that.
While the others celebrated their release in their own way, Cladissa decided that what she wanted to do was eat. The Galtan restaurant that had become one of her favorites over the years looked the same. Of course, she then remembered that she and Jannicke had eaten their yesterday. The servers welcomed her back, and didn't comment on her suddenly pale, pasty appearance, and her second voraciously consumed meal in as many days.
The time in the pocket dimension took an increasing toll on Gianluca. Despite having his ring, he thought to pack as many of his favorite chocolates and pastries as he could...and found that they were actually hard to enjoy with the ring on. Until they ran out, he would sometimes slip it off and build up a day of hunger, so that he could enjoy a fine piece of Jalmalayan chocolate or galtan choux.
When those ran out, he started being increasingly difficult to rouse from slumber, and more frenetic in his rutting with Thrassk. When training, his normally relaxed disposition gradually gre snappy and tense.
Once out, he gasped with relief and--without a word--went to Nyugelle. With her, he sobbed, and f~+&ed, and sobbed again, until he collapsed into exhaustion. The next morning, he coaxed his pregnant partner out to a fine patisserie, and then asked her leave to go serve at the nascent Arshean Temple that he was starting to grow.
After their years-moment of training the Freaks have reached levels of power reserved for the absolute pinnacle of mortality on Golarion. They feel it is finally time to make their move to rescue poor Imrizade, so long held captive in darkness and fear. After purchasing the appropriate gear, and saying their goodbyes, the Freaks assemble one last time for Argor to plane shift them.
Argor decides to aim for the shadow equivalent of Jabberwocky Lane.
The Freaks find themselves sucked into a dark portal as Argor completes his spell, a moment later they appear in a place of absolute darkness. The sound of lapping waves hits their eardrums a moment before they fall into some kind of ice cold liquid.
The Freaks are floating in a black sea of black liquid under a black sky. The 'water' stretches as far as they can see in all directions. There is no moon or any stars in the sky.
Thrassk rages, and flaps up out of the sea. "Thisss doesn't look like Absalom to me!"
Cladissa activates her broom and rises from the waters, sputtering and shivering. Cole rises up out of the water with a hiss, his Sylvanshee resistances not wholly effective against the cold but protecting him somewhat. He settles on his favorite spot behind her.
It looks like we ended up in the ocean! Cole, you're never lost. Can you tell which way we need to go?"
Argor floats up and out of the water along with Adrenia. ”It doesn’t mater. I have the ability to teleport to our destination now with complete accuracy. Everyone, gather round...”
Cole meows, then casts prestidigitation to dry himself off. Then he does the same thing for his witch while she explains.
"Okay, he knows which way is north, but without a landmark, we've no way of knowing which direction the Isle of Kortos lay. We should pick a direction and fly straight until we hit land, and north seems as good a direction as any."
She gives Argor a look. "Oh. Okay, then.
The group manages to grasp hands in the air, and then Argor teleports them to the shadow equivalent of their old home. The shadow Foreign Quarter is a pastiche of alien and gothic edifices all shrouded in the oppressive darkness of this plane. Fetchlings and other creatures of darkness make their way through the streets and alleys, while incorporeal undead swoop by overhead. The occasional roar of a dragon in the distance rolls across the city. Everyone seems to be minding their own business, and moving quickly through the streets with their heads on a swivel. This twisted version of the Freaks' home holds little of the warmth and exotic appeal they are used to. Instead, it feels like a place of fear and suffering where people only just survive.
::If we find a plot of land being unused, I'll begin pacing out a home:: Cladissa thinks to everyone.
Under the veil, Cladissa doesn't bother with hiding her spider legs, so they are out and carrying her around should she ever require a quick burst of speed. With her darkvision that had returned while they trained and further augmented by her crown, she looks around for an ideal place to hole up. She also tests the air for scents, familiarizing herself with this plane.
Argor maintains his concentration on the Veil for now, maintaining their appearance as Fetchling natives as they look for themselves a place to set up base.
Before using the hex, she must spend 1 day pacing out the border of an area that measures roughly 40,000 square feet (approximately 200 feet by 200 feet) to define her home territory.
The Freaks' search for an empty building takes them to the Docks, where in the Material Plane Absalom there are plenty of empty warehouses to break into.
After about an hour of skulking about disguised as fetchlings the group comes across a likely prospect - a small dilapidated warehouse on the edge of the Docks. It appears the only people about are vagrants, a few whores, and a smattering of filthy urchins.
While Cladissa obsessively paces the abandoned warehouse, Gianluca asks, "So, do either of you have any divination magic that could aid us in finding Imrizade's location?"
Cladissa looks over her shoulder as she paces past Gianluca. "I told you about the answers I got, right?" She points to Adrenia. "She should be able to provide more answers, but it's probably best that we hold her in reserve. I don't have anything else practical besides scrying, but that'll tip them off if they spot the sensor, and we didn't bring along our mirror."
Gianluca nods. "Yes. We know she's not being held within a thousand feet of Agrinyxia, the Lady of Shifting Scales...which is comforting, but doesn't narrow our search much.
"What about you, Argor? Did you learn that spell I mentioned, that Priestess Daefne told me about?"
”No, I was making other preparations. Nevertheless, I believe I will learn more with my actual skill at asking for the information indirectly,” he says as the group begins to settle in into their warehouse base. ”Once Cladissa has completed her ritual, I will set out to learn what I can without being obvious.”
__________
Argor returns to their hideout. "Well, there are no less than 31 distinct locations where Imrizade could be being kept. Likely even more than that. Adrenia could likely reduce that count by 16 at worst, with her ability to speak with the deity she is in service to. If she happens to inquire correctly, then we will have been fortunate and can make our move far sooner."
"What saysss she'sss still being held as a prisoner? Maybe she'sss been sold asss a slave. Why would the Onyx Alliance hold her when their conflict with usss isss over? She wasss just a pawn to them..."
"Perhaps..."
Argot ponders a moment then adds ”Perhaps a more direct but subtle approach would be more efficient. I can pose as a wealthy Fetchling traveler with his retinue, with each of you in suitable illusions as aids, bodyguards, slaves, what have you, to mask your forms without having to conceal your frames. Then I could seek out a slave of her particular description, claiming a desire to purchase her based on my ‘specific tastes.’ Then we either purchase her or rescue her and escape to Absalom.”
After another outing the group learns that the Onyx Alliance does indeed deal in slaves from the Material plane. Humans are handled by a particular dealer, a dark stalker named Hfex-in. He maintains a compound in the Foreign Quarter.
"Mmmmmph. I hate being here. I hate knowing that even if I attacked every slaver I see here, there's an entire plane of wickedness that I won't be able to make a dent in."
He shakes his head.
"I'm sorry. I wish there was more I could do to help here. I have some skill in gathering info...but no real practice in deceiving people. At any rate, your plan seems like a sound one. Let's see what this Hfex-in has to say.
"If we are confident that he did sell her to someone, perhaps we can even bribe him to tell us who the buyer was."
”Agreed. It is at the least a lead worth following,” Argor says before leading the group inward to this Hfex-in.
Using her observations of human slaves in and around Shadow Absalom, Cladissa combines her illusory hex with various shabby clothing she collects and/or weaves out of her own silk to hide her magical gear and inhuman features.
When she steps out with Argor and company, she looks the part of a pallid and haggard human slave who's been in this realm far too long. She hunches her shoulders and stays close to Argor effecting a slave's desperate need to stay with him for safety while also being in abject terror of him.
::As we've practiced, think at me and I'll spread your thoughts to the others:: Cladissa sends, almost unnecessarily. Part of the training in the pocket realm had been maximizing her telepathy to the point that she nearly simultaneously receives and transmits the thoughts of the others. There's still the slightest fraction of delay between what she hears from one and what she broadcasts to the others, but after years of hearing Gianluca's unfiltered thoughts and sending them to the others, she's completely inured to the shock of someone else's thoughts and it's second nature to send them on to the others without hesitation.
Gianluca thinks back ::You've got it!:: while trying his best to stand like a passionless, undead ogre.