A relatively small city on the banks of the Lesser Moutray River, Lepidstadt is most famous for its university and the strange standing stones outside the city called the Spiral Cromlech. Recently renovated, Lepidstadt is a bustling, lively city of students and academics, with newly bricked streets, wide plazas, and grandiose structures built from imported wood and stone. Away from the university and city center, however, the narrow, winding streets of Lepidstadt show the signs of its age, with dilapidated hovels, crumbling stone walls, and cramped courtyards.
On this chilly Moonday morning of late Calastril, a traveler makes her way down the main street of the county of Vieland's great capital city with a purposeful gait. She would blend in well in the academic environment with her astute brown tweed suit, except for the striking silver longspear in hand. In her other hand, she holds a note. Sneaking a glance once or twice to check the address, she strides past the university entirely, arriving instead at the neighboring Morning Cup, a posh coffee shop. Frequented primarily by students, professors, alchemists, and other academics, several customers in formal dress sip dark drinks while eating breakfast and either reading papers or debating some intellectual hypothesis.
But the purposeful woman is not looking for that kind of scholar here. She scans the room to find a more familiar face. Spotting her, she approaches a seated Tien woman of middle age. She wears a jade crescent moon medallion over simple brown robes; a priest, it seems. A similar silver longspear leans against the nearby wall. Smiling mildly, she rises to mutually bow in formal greeting.
”Sookie-Chan, it is good to see you again,” she adds with an even broader smile in her slight Tien accent.
Master Tamako motions for Sookie Clayten to sit with her. On the table, she has taken the liberty of ordering two steaming cups of what she says the locals call coffee.
He wakes with a blood-curdling scream…
His breath races. Sweat pours from every pore on his body. His heart pounds in his chest. He knew this dreaded feeling all too well. The nightmare, again.
His training kicks in: he regains control of his breath and mind in short time. Tightly clenched fists slowly release; a few drops of blood drip from his palms, staining the bed. Carefully, he wraps them with clean bandages.
Though the sun has yet to, it’s now time for him to rise. For the Lady of Graves calls on him this day. Another opportunity to prove himself worthy. No, he must rise, and never fail Her.
Never again…
Christoph finishes dressing and packing for the day ahead of him. On the small desk in his small room at the Tricky Flail Inn, he reviews the notice one more time. The Voices of the Spire ensure the natural order of death and life is preserved, operating behind the scenes, using whatever means are necessary to bring true death to the unliving. These inquisitors of the Church have many ears and many eyes spread throughout Ustalav. And word of a new threat has made its way to their ears. The Voices have entrusted only one of their best, Speaker Christoph Metzger, to investigate the rumors and, if true, to do what it takes to preserve the natural order. The notice concludes with an instruction for Christoph to meet with one Pastor Grigory Aliyev of the city’s temple for further instructions.
On this brisk cool early morning on the last Moonday of the winter month of Calastril, the corpse hunter walks out from his room and into the streets of Lepidstadt. He makes his way through winding roads to the northeastern district of the city. In these more threadbare parts, common folk of the city work and reside. The crumbling stone streets are pocked here and there with weeds, but are less crowded at this dawn hour, serving his desire for expediency well.
Eventually, he spots it: there’s no mistaking the Lady’s spiral atop the gothic temple’s steeple. The area is less than pristine, and the church itself could use some minor repairs. A dark set of front doors are closed; they bear twin brass knockers upon them.
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A relatively small city on the banks of the Lesser Moutray River, Lepidstadt is most famous for its university and the strange standing stones outside the city called the Spiral Cromlech. Recently renovated, Lepidstadt is a bustling, lively city of students and academics, with newly bricked streets, wide plazas, and grandiose structures built from imported wood and stone. Away from the university and city center, however, the narrow, winding streets of Lepidstadt show the signs of its age, with dilapidated hovels, crumbling stone walls, and cramped courtyards.
On this chilly Moonday morning of late Calastril, a traveler makes her way down the main street of the county of Vieland's great capital city with a purposeful gait. She would blend in well in the academic environment with her astute brown tweed suit, except for the striking silver longspear in hand. In her other hand, she holds a note. Sneaking a glance once or twice to check the address, she strides past the university entirely, arriving instead at the neighboring Morning Cup, a posh coffee shop. Frequented primarily by students, professors, alchemists, and other academics, several customers in formal dress sip dark drinks while eating breakfast and either reading papers or debating some intellectual hypothesis.
But the purposeful woman is not looking for that kind of scholar here. She scans the room to find a more familiar face. Spotting her, she approaches a seated Tien woman of middle age. She wears a jade crescent moon medallion over simple brown robes; a priest, it seems. A similar silver longspear leans against the nearby wall. Smiling mildly, she rises to mutually bow in formal greeting.
”Sookie-Chan, it is good to see you again,” she adds with an even broader smile in her slight Tien accent.
Master Tamako motions for Sookie Clayten to sit with her. On the table, she has taken the liberty of ordering two steaming cups of what she says the locals call...
Sookie feels herself right on the tip of remembering something, but her mind is too scattered at the moment. She tries to let herself feel scattered and see where the feeling takes her. A tempestuous mind is not a bad mind. Right now, her thoughts swirl around the single question: what purpose could Tamako-sensei have for writing to her?
Sookie bows, thankful she remembered after so much time apart. "It is good to see you, too, Tamako-sensei. Thank you for inviting me and providing a drink." Sookie is particularly adroit in her pronunciation, though the easy emotion tinging her syllables makes it impossible to call her accent stuffy. She speaks like a classical pianist plays: completely in control, but honest. She leans her own spear against the wall as well and sits. She smiles and leans her arm back over the chair. When she was at the Asylum, they were very particular about making you sit "properly," so she has ever since taken particular pleasure in sitting however she damn well pleased. "You are looking as hale and hearty as ever. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
A man stands, quietly, studying one of Lepidstadt's Pharasmin temples. Bedecked in the scarlet and black of the Voices of the Spire, the man's intimidating presence seems to loom over the quiet road like a watchful gargoyle. Like a noblewomen wears jewelry, the inquisitor's armament can only reasonably be called 'excessive'. Between the dagger and wickedly bright morningstar hanging from his belt, spears and bow stave emerging from an unusual quiver on his back, and array of vials stretched across his chest on bandoliers it would be forgivable for an observer to think he could equip an army on his own. His eyes flicker constantly from the temple, to any passer-by, and back with the constant practice of one who's life depends on quick wits and fast reflexes to avoid the inhuman threats that lurk in Ustalav's shadows.
Pastor Aliyev to have further instructions. Little enough else, and nothing to tell me what to bring in preparation. Speaker Christoph Metzger huffs a disappointed sigh and stands a moment longer in contemplation. Brought the standard gear, but if there's anything out of the ordinary it could be unpleasant. Nothing to be done for it though.
Still shaken by his disturbed night, he finds himself unable to recall anything of the priest he is to meet. He tries, but does not entirely succeed, at suppressing a shudder as he recalls the dream that had woken him in a cold sweat. Some Voice, if I can't even shake a nightmare more then a score of years old. With a disgusted shake of hie head, he finally moves from the edge of the street where he had been standing to approach the darkened entrance to the temple. With no hesitation, he lifts one of the heavy brass knockers and drops it; and then does so again twice more. He takes a step back from the entryway, fishing in breast pocket for the instructions that had led him to this unassuming temple door.
Tamako smiles. "You are too kind. But, thank you."
The sensei's posture contrasts the student's. Seated perfectly upright, Sookie is reminded of something her mentor always used to say when she saw her students slouching:
'As the moon reflects perfectly in still waters below, so too does a still mind reflect in the body.'
Back in the present, Tamako pauses before answering Sookie's question. Cryptically, she begins with, "Please forgive the vagueness of my letter, Sookie-chan, but... it was necessary."
The sensei continues, "I have a friend in Lepidstadt. Someone who has helped me with rescues at Lepidstadt Asylum... someone of importance. Three days ago, I visited the asylum for such a mission. And I discovered a most..." She hesitates, looking for the right words. "...interesting admittance in their records. A group of five had been admitted in one day. And, most curiosly, they knew each other."
Tamako pauses, letting the suspiciousness of such an occurrence sink in as she takes a sip of her coffee. What are the odds of five people, who know each other, all going mad enough to be admitted to the same asylum... and all at once? Surely someone wanted them put away. Sookie feels anger rising within, as she is reminded of an all-too familiar personal story...
"But when I tried to visit them, they were already gone. I checked around town, trying to find out what might have happened to them."
She pauses, looking to her left and to her right before continuing in a lower voice, "They escaped. By themselves. And, they never left the city."
Tamako pauses to take another sip of coffee. She looks at her apprentice, perhaps wondering how much sense the ever-growing strangeness of this story as it unfolds is making to her.
A crow caws atop the steeple after the intense man bangs the knocker thrice.
Moments later, the wooden door creaks partially open. A pale-skinned acolyte in black robes answers. He looks skeptically at Christoph for a moment before taking obvious notice the Speaker’s insignia.
“Ah. You are expected, Speaker. Please, come in,” the Pharasmin priest darkly grumbles.
The melancholy acolyte opens the door fully to let Christoph enter the temple. He dutifully leads the veteran Voice of the Spire to a pew in the back of a humble chapel. Stained glass windows depict the familiar scenes of the Bonesland, the dead, and the Lady. A crowning spiral of solid silver sits atop an otherwise inornate central wooden alter.
Eventually, the old pastor shuffles over and sits beside Christoph. Letting out an arthritic grunt as he is seated, the nearly bald grey-haired elder with grey eyes greets his fellow Pharasmin by motioning the familiar spiral sign over his heart.
In a gravely voice, “Speaker. Welcome to Lepidstadt. I'm the pastor you seek."
"Speaker. Hmpf..."
The pastor seems to ponder the title with mild amusement. He then gives Christoph a rather odd look of knowing. "Well, you don't exactly look like me, boy. But I once wore your shoes. So to speak. A very long time ago...”
What? Whatever does he mean by that? Christoph's mind spins...
Christoph nods silently in greeting to the priest as he is invited inside. As he crosses the temple's threshold, reflex takes over and he traces the spiral of Pharasma on his chest. He pays little attention to the acolyte as he walks, instead focusing on the images that seem to glow with a holy light in the dim lighting of the temple. His mind wanders over the scenes each in their turn. The ascent to the Bonelands... the Lady as judge... the weighing of souls... the Mistress of Fate giving prophecy. An orthodox temple, then. None of the Penitents here, I think.
When his guide motions towards one of the pews in the temple, the Speaker sits as indicated and waits. Still unsettled from his restless night, Christoph stares silently at the temple's alter, lost in thought and hoping for divine guidance as he considers the nightmare that haunt him still.
When the old pastor takes his seat, Christoph bows his head in greeting to his elder in the church and traces his own spiral sign. He murmurs an echoing greeting in the silent temple, "Father Aliyev, may the Mistress of Fate judge you justly."
Sharp eyes silently study the old man as he speaks, drawn from grey eyes beginning to grow cloudy to wrinkled mouth and back. Perplexed and shaken by the amusement in the man's voice, he manages a broken, "Sir?" before realization begins to set in. He speaks as one who's walked the path. And to have worn my shoes... and at his age? 'So to speak'? With a sound near to a hiss, Christoph's sharp gasp echoes quietly and he asks of the priest, "Speaker Ivan Yeniaminov? But I was told to ask for Grigory Aliyev... but you... you are You are the founder of our order here? Who brought it from Osirion to fight the lingering evil from the Whispering tyrant's reign?"
Chagrined, he pauses a moment before saying, "If it is you, I had thought you had gone to the Lady's Judgement years ago."
Tamako smiles. "You are too kind. But, thank you."
The sensei's posture contrasts the student's. Seated perfectly upright, Sookie is reminded of something her mentor always used to say when she saw her students slouching:
'As the moon reflects perfectly in still waters below, so too does a still mind reflect in the body.'
Back in the present, Tamako pauses before answering Sookie's question. Cryptically, she begins with, "Please forgive the vagueness of my letter, Sookie-chan, but... it was necessary."
The sensei continues, "I have a friend in Lepidstadt. Someone who has helped me with rescues at Lepidstadt Asylum... someone of importance. Three days ago, I visited the asylum for such a mission. And I discovered a most..." She hesitates, looking for the right words. "...interesting admittance in their records. A group of five had been admitted in one day. And, most curiosly, they knew each other."
Tamako pauses, letting the suspiciousness of such an occurrence sink in as she takes a sip of her coffee. What are the odds of five people, who know each other, all going mad enough to be admitted to the same asylum... and all at once? Surely someone wanted them put away. Sookie feels anger rising within, as she is reminded of an all-too familiar personal story...
"But when I tried to visit them, they were already gone. I checked around town, trying to find out what might have happened to them."
She pauses, looking to her left and to her right before continuing in a lower voice, "They escaped. By themselves. And, they never left the city."
Tamako pauses to take another sip of coffee. She looks at her apprentice, perhaps wondering how much sense the ever-growing strangeness of this story as it unfolds is making to her.
Sookie takes a sip of her own coffee, taking in Tamako's story. "That is quite a bizarre situation. I can see why you requested my help." Sookie shrugs her mouth in a "not bad" expression at this coffee. She appreciates the soothing, earthy flavor. "What do you know about them? Were you able to talk to any of them?"
The acolyte stoically fusses with altar preparations for morning mass. If he can hear the conversation from across the chapel, he remains entirely unphased by the conversation.
"Well. When you put it all like that, you make me sound so heroic. Who, this fat old man?" The old man smiles.
Self-depricating humor now? For one who has played so severe a role in his younger days, this graying old man seems to have lightened up quite remarkably. At least by comparison to the tales Christoph has heard of the incorruptible crusader who'd stop at nothing to eliminate the blight of abominable unlife from the Lady's sight.
And then, after an assuaging pat on the shoulder, the fabled intensity of the man before him makes its appearance at last. Leaning in, those cloudy gray eyes lock with Christoph's. And while not the piercing bright blue they must have once been, they clearly embody the old intensity in spirit at least.
"No, Speaker Metzger," he reassures the speaker grimly. "I'm not dead yet. Of course, you'd have had no way of knowing otherwise. Our Lady still has a purpose for me, I'm afraid. After all these years, I still serve her. In other ways."
After a brief pause, he continues. "In all seriousness, my son, I have personally arranged for you to come and meet me. Not to meet an old relic of course. I have been watching you for a long time, you see. Monitoring your progress, your ascendance within the Voices. Your mentor, Kjell, has kept me informed. Though there are many good soldiers of faith in our ranks, I would trust you with this very... grave mission."
"I thought my retirement would be less interesting. Instead, I have learned that a new threat looms on the horizon in Ustalav. A series of misfortunes and oddities has, upon closer inspection, revealed a pattern. A plan. A sinister plan, undoubtedly... for I suspect the threat is from an old enemy."
He almost mouths the words now, whispering them so low so that only nearby Christoph to barely make them out:
"The Whispering Way."
The Morning Cup is not exactly a private choice for such conversation. But the scholarly patrons do seem too preoccupied with their papers and debates to be bothered listening in on the two of them.
Nonetheless, Sookie's mentor continues in a soft volume.
"I have not met them. But an old friend of mine has. She is a person of influence in Lepidstadt, a good person that I trust. She has protected them... and hired them."
"There was a very public trial recently, which caused much public unrest. The escapees were tasked with investigating the murders. Though the trial ended poorly, they uncovered a darker plot behind the murders. The details are unclear, but the accused was set up. He was a decoy to mask the sinister work of a very old cult..."
Tamako looks around before whispering, "...the Whispering Way."
Tamako's tone now more apparently shifts to worry. "My friend believes in these young ones. She believes them capable of aiding against this sinister threat. But," she adds, "they will need help."
Another pause. Tamako's tone expresses deep concern for Sookie's welfare. "It seems to be a most dangerous mission, Sookie-chan. I would not want to endanger you so. Their path leads them to face a most nefarious danger."
"But," she admits, "I can think of noone else up to the task."
"What do you think, so far?" her mentor asks, implying there's even more to the story.
Christoph squirms in his seat in the pew uncomfortably. He was reminded very much of his days as a young ward of the church when he was caught misbehaving or trying to run away. Enough of this, you are a veteren Voice; not a barely robed acolyte out of bed past curfew. You had no way of knowing... did you? Listen to what he has to say. He takes a small amount of solace in the former Voice's reassurance. Enough, at least, to simply sit and listen calmly.
This is small enough comfort as his mind roils at the news the old man shares. Monitoring me? But... why? Surely there are others of our order who are better trained. Or those who don't freeze up and shake when some fanged horror emerges from the mist. Any surge of pride he might have felt to have been hand picked is quickly quashed by uncertainty and doubt.
Christoph cannot help himself as he gasps softly at the Father Yeniaminov's revelation. Hissing quietly under his breath, the Speaker says, "Tar-Baphon was defeated and his protégés were routed, killed, and imprisoned. They have been hunted since. Surely they can't have the strength to do their work openly "
After breakfast, Keyla says her goodbyes to Zelda. She needs to carry on with her own mission: to hunt down the hags that murdered their family.
Keyla hands her sister a wrapped pack of gear. If she refuses, Keyla insists. As Zelda opens it, her sister explains, "You'll need these. Something to help you watch out for the unliving; something to take them down if you find them; and, heading into the Shudderwood, something to deal with the werewolves, too."
The sisters promise to meet again once they've completed their tasks. The Lamplighters embrace, wish each other safety, and Keyla heads off.
...
The three ladies make their way down the streets of Lepidstadt. They approach Judge Daramid's fine town house. One of them knocks upon the front door.
The judge's manservant answers: a middle-aged gnome, dressed formally in a tux and bow tie. Looking up at you with elite airs, he welcomes you in, offers to take your coats, and leads you up the winding stairs into the second floor living room. Before taking his leave with a formal bow, he motions for the ladies to take a seat, stating, "Judge Daramid shall be with you shortly."
Her living room is an elegant Victorian room. It features a chandelier above a marble central table, surrounded by a comfortable leather couch and matching chairs. Three windows face the eastern sky, with a splendid view of equally fancy town houses across the street. A grandfather clock ticks away as the time passes.
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A beautiful young Varisian woman smiles down at the manservant, and lets him take her warm fitted olive winter coat. She wrings her cold hands together and blows hot breath into them; the sound of light jingling from several thin gold bracelets fills the air. She wears a colorful silk blouse with slitted long sleeves and black fitted pants. A translucent yellow jade from her gold necklace rests between her ample bosom. She also wears matching earrings, warm fitted boots, and a colorful head scarf to keep her dark hair neat.
Aliseya gives her friends an impressed look as her hazel and red eyes scan the elegant room. With a childlike spirit, she almost jumps into the soft comfy couch with a grin, feeling the soft texture with her hands.
The Morning Cup is not exactly a private choice for such conversation. But the scholarly patrons do seem too preoccupied with their papers and debates to be bothered listening in on the two of them.
Nonetheless, Sookie's mentor continues in a soft volume.
"I have not met them. But an old friend of mine has. She is a person of influence in Lepidstadt, a good person that I trust. She has protected them... and hired them."
"There was a very public trial recently, which caused much public unrest. The escapees were tasked with investigating the murders. Though the trial ended poorly, they uncovered a darker plot behind the murders. The details are unclear, but the accused was set up. He was a decoy to mask the sinister work of a very old cult..."
Tamako looks around before whispering, "...the Whispering Way."
Tamako's tone now more apparently shifts to worry. "My friend believes in these young ones. She believes them capable of aiding against this sinister threat. But," she adds, "they will need help."
Another pause. Tamako's tone expresses deep concern for Sookie's welfare. "It seems to be a most dangerous mission, Sookie-chan. I would not want to endanger you so. Their path leads them to face a most nefarious danger."
"But," she admits, "I can think of noone else up to the task."
"What do you think, so far?" her mentor asks, implying there's even more to the story.
Sookie leans her chin onto a loose fist. "If this cult has been getting innocent people convicted, then it sounds exactly like the kind of issue we should be dealing with."
Sookie grins at the thought of danger. While she has calmed and grown more stable since her teenage years, she still cannot help but find joy in the rush of conflict. She just knows how to channel and control it better. "So far, this sounds quite enticing, but I get the feeling there's more."
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Zelda opens her eyes in surprise at her sidters gift. This is too much wont you need it! Seeing she wont take it back zelda nods gratfully, thank you. I will use these to save lives. Take care of yourself and know there is someone who loves you and hopes to see you in one piece again. With tears in her eyes zelda says her goodbyes to her sister
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"Openly? No, no. They do it in secret, of course. Though we have found them out now..."
The old priest looks off distantly now. "A few good Pharasmins have lost their lives to bring this information to us..."
Father Yeniaminov then ponders his next thoughts for a moment. Clearing his throat, he then recounts the tale of Tar-Baphon's fate.
"The Whispering Tyrant was defeated... or so the stories tell us. Even if they are correct, defeat has multiple meanings. Some records reveal that the dark one was imprisoned in the dark dungeons of his tower. Who today can say for sure what has become of the lich king..."
"Enshrined in his haunted capital of Gallowspire, bolstered by the terrified armies of enslaved Ustalav, the Whispering Tyrant savaged neighboring nations, all in the hope of attracting the attention of his great enemy, Aroden. He believed that the story of humanity’s rise during the Age of Enthronement had become the story of Golarion itself, and that the fate of the world and of Aroden had become intertwined. By slaughtering Aroden on the field of battle, the dark one hoped to drive a lance into the heart of the world."
He breaks a moment to cough a bit, clear his throat, and sip from a cup of hot tea offered by the acolyte that welcomed Christoph. The acolyte offers Christoph a cup of tea as well.
"It did not work," Father Yeniaminov continues. "Aroden’s attention remained elsewhere, apparently. The gambit instead drew the unified attention of Ustalav’s neighbors, and a triumvirate of nations drove their way to Gallowspire and imprisoned the lich king forever in the dungeons below his haunted tower."
"Nearly ten centuries later, the Way remains a potent threat throughout Ustalav and beyond, I'm afraid. In the last century, the legend may have taken on a new dimension. Whether true or not, I surmise that adherents are attributing Aroden’s recent demise to the lich king. Their metaphor has been satisfied either way, you see."
The elder now makes intense eye contact once again with the Speaker, "And so I expect they now anticipate and move to bring about the literal death of Golarion."
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"Yes, there is more..."
Master Tamako can't help but smile now. She sees right through Sookie's calm, knows what her grin means all too well. "I know you too well, Sookie-chan. This must be very exciting to you! 'Patience is a bitter plant, but its fruit is sweet.' You must be very careful if you accept, for the Way is not to be trifled with. And, I expect, there is a broader plan at work here than it seems."
She then continues after another sip of coffee.
"I managed to obtain a copy of the asylum records for the young ones. Of course, most of the diagnoses were obviously absurd. One young woman likes other women, for example… as if that were an excuse to lock someone up."
She pats Sookie's hand knowingly.
A bit more somberly now, she continues. "Most of them... One young woman is... troubled." She pauses a moment to let her choice of wording sink in.
"To take a long story and make it short," she just about gets the Inner Sea idiom correct; while fond of eastern proverbs, her master from Tian Xia has had trouble mastering western sayings, and so Sookie is now a little proud of her, "my contact has personally witnessed her unfortunate condition. She has asked me if I know of one who can help this young woman to deal with her mental health troubles. There is a great power in her; she has a good heart, and wishes to use her power for great good. But only if she can surmount her own troubled mind."
"I have found that my contact has arranged a meeting with three of them this morning. There, I expect they will discuss the next steps of their mission against the Way. Go and attend the meeting, and decide for yourself if you would like to take the opportunity to help her... to help them."
"But first," she hands the asylum report over to Sookie, "You should read this."
"Hold onto it," she adds. "Of course, you should offer it to Yewanda since it's her personal information."
Curiously, however, the amateurs took detailed notes on conversations with Yewanda. Details which seem more convincing. Some conversations are outright disturbing: they describe a rather wicked, rageful, and vengeful woman who makes more than one rather detailed and horrifyingly cruel threat to the analysts and their families for locking her up. Other conversations describe a very different person: a much gentler woman, who was recently traumatized and exhibits the symptoms of depression and self-doubt.
Among several other probably misapplied attributions, such as "possessed" and "a devil witch," the term "Multiple personality disorder" stands out in Sookie's mind: a more convincing description of the prime disorder of this patient.
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Sookie chuckles at the comment about women liking other women. "I personally have always thought that loving women is actually the most sane thing a woman can do." It wasn't the first time that Sookie had said that line, not even the first time she had said it around Tamako, but she liked it and believed it wholeheartedly. It also provided a nice way to lighten the mood so she wouldn't get bitter.
Her face hardens into a more neutral, concerned expression at the mention of more serious problems with one of the others. She remains quiet and listens thoughtfully, then reads through the file quickly. While she intends a more thorough read later, she has had to read enough files in her time to know exactly where to find all the salient info quickly.
Sookie cannot help but raise an eyebrow and flatten her lips at the file's contents. "I will never cease being amazed at how little self-purported 'experts' actually view their patients as people." She calmly folds it shut. "I can see exactly why you called me. This situation sounds like it is right up my alley. In multiple respects. I would be glad to meet with them." She bows her head. "Dōmo arigatō, Tamako-sensei."
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Sookie chuckles at the comment about women liking other women. "I personally have always thought that loving women is actually the most sane thing a woman can do."
Stepping in with the other ladies a short woman wearing a roughed up men's coat a few sizes too big holds up a hand towards the butler when he offers to take hers. Nothing against him, she just didn't feel like removing Lorrimor's coat, it was cozy.
Met by the heat her hair comes back to life, or rather, the writhing mass atop her head. Moving over to the couch she hops aside Aliseya. "That's a lovely necklace." she says as wings flutter beside her head where her ears should rest. Holding up her hands she slings her arms gently forward till the sleeves of the coat covered her hands "Here," she tells the dancer with a smile.
Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Christoph struggles to keep the buzzing in his ears and the shroud of black panic threatening his vision in check. The Way... in secret... but acting out again? Shaking his head in disbelief, he draws a shuddering breath only to exhale like a bellows. Despite his obvious anxiety, his training begins to overcome the shock and his breathing evens out as he focuses on the words of the Canticle of Fate. ... the Lady guides your step ... He responds woodenly to the news of the fate of his fellows in the faith, "May the Lady judge them justly..."
The soothing tones of Father Yeniaminov draw Christoph back from his mental struggles. Mentally remonstrating himself for his inattention, he listens carefully to the priest. Tar-Bapohon was a madman, and it sounds like his followers are no better. Sipping his tea, he absorbs the history lesson with considerably more calm. The necessities of his work overriding, if only momentarily, the shock and panic of the revelation about the Way.
"If they have been acting since Aroden's death, what has caused this sudden change? I've not heard of their activity, nor been sent to hunt them yet. Nor any other Voice that I know. Something must have happened? What could they possibly have done that might make you think they mean to bring about the death of Golarion?"
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Ali smiles as Naught warms her cold hands. "It's the gem you gave me."
Quite suddenly, the bejeweled lady's eyes dart to Zelda. "Your sister seems really awesome, Miss Zelda Lamplighter, Esquire," she tells the artful blonde, still smiling.
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"It is!" Naught excitedly says "It looks great on you." she continues, no longer bothered by the fact that she almost died getting that gem. It was obviously worth it.
When Ali changes topic Naught's eyes follow along. "Yeah she was cool. And Esquire? Are you training to be a knight?"
Naught tilts her head. "... so you were training to be a guard? Or a Judge?"
”Nice!” Naught responds.
"Ha! You may be on to something." Master Tamako laughs, though she seems to be speaking from her own past experiences with men.
Master Tamako hands Sookie written directions to meet her contact.
"Īe, arigatōgozaimashita Sookie-san. Soshite yoi tabi." She returns her student's head bow in turn. When Sookie looks up once again from her head bow, the teacher has a necklace in her hands. She opens it to wrap around Sookie's neck: a thin strip of leather, bearing a jade crescent moon amulet at its center. As she clasps it, she prays:
"Ōji wa anata o mamori, shukufuku shimasu, Sookie-san."
"The Prince protect and bless you, Ms. Sookie."
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Perhaps noticing the effect of taking all of this in is having on the young speaker, Father Yeniaminov takes a moment to let him process his thoughts. He takes a sip of tea as more questions are asked.
"Do you know how the manticore hunts in Osirion? It sleeps for much of the day... and then, quite suddenly, its spike is about to lodge through your skull, or its jowl is about to rip your jugular open." The old man's analogy seems born from personal experience; perhaps he'd actually encountered such a creature himself so very long ago in that ancient land, before bringing the Voices to Ustalav.
"So too does the Way achieve its aims. Always do they seek to act behind dark shrouds of secrecy... until it is too late."
"As for Golarion, I speak only of what I know of the Way, and how they think. I know my enemy well enough to know their ultimate intent. Yet, the details of their plans remain uncertain to me."
Smiling knowingly at Christoph, "And that, my son, is where you come in."
The old priest takes another sip of tea. He then overwhelms Christoph with even more dark news.
"Here is what I do know. My investigators have found evidence that a group of cultists, led by the necromancer Auren Vrood, have conducted a dark ritual at Harrowstone Prison near the small town Ravengro in western Ustalav. The locals were traumatized by a string of murders and other nefarious events in the days that followed. Most blame a different group of outsiders who'd come into town when the troubles began. When they disappeared from town, they say that's when the troubles subsided."
"But I believe these outsiders were there to help. The prison was haunted, you see. And it once contained Ustalav's most wanted and nefarious criminals, before the place burned to the ground with them all inside. The ritual's purpose was to remove the warden's lingering spirit and entrap it. When he was taken, the evil prisoners' ghosts were free from his protective suppression, and they unleashed the same twisted evils they enacted in life once again in death upon the nearby townsfolk. The outsiders seem to have found a way to cleanse the evil spirits from the prison, and left it reduced to rubble."
"A few weeks later, an ancient artifact called the Seasage Effigy was stolen from the university right here in Lepidstadt. None today know its true purpose or meaning, but it appears to be a swampy green statuette of a grotesque, tentacled creature. A constructed golem was blamed for the theft, among other heinous crimes. But my sources inform me that cultists and probable agents of the Way were spotted outside of Lepidstadt at the time. I surmise that Vrood somehow compelled the creature to steal the artifact for him, cleverly leaving it behind at the scene of the crime to take the fall."
"Curiously, the same group that aided Ravengro also came to investigate and defend the creature during its trial. Though the trial ended in a rather dramatic failure, the creature somehow escaped before receiving the death sentence. Shortly after, the group managed to save the creature's creator, Count Caromarc, from a very slow and cruel death at the hands of Vrood. The Count said little more to my agents, but he revealed that they've already moved on, heading east for the Shudderwood. Probably to find something else he needs for some nefarious purpose, though the details remain unknown to me."
"Three members of the original team that have helped in the aftermath of Vrood's dark acts have managed to survive. I have learned from a local contact of mine that this very morning, they are meeting in Lepidstadt to plan how to track down the necromancer in the Shudderwood and try to stop his evil plan before he succeeds."
"I have already informed my contact that I am sending her my best and brightest agent to aid in this quest..."
The old man has spoken of so much that's transpired, it takes Christoph a moment to absorb it all... and to eventually realize that that agent is none other than himself. The priest gives him a moment to process everything he's just told him.
"You have trained for so long for this very moment, my son. Though the prospect of facing a powerful necromancer would be daunting to anyone, I've no doubt in your abilities." It's as if the old man sees through into Christoph's self-doubt, and eases it with confidence.
"But the decision is yours to make, of course: do you accept this mission, Speaker Christoph?" The priest defers the decision to Chistoph, who is, technically, the chief decision maker for the Voices of the Spire.
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"Being a judge would be amazing, Zel. But I could totally see you as a knight, too. Don't underestimate yourself!" Aliseya says.
Suddenly, Ali's eyes widen as she sucks in a swift intake of air through puckered lips: an idea she obviously loves has just occurred to her.
"Oh! We should totally do a spread later! With my deck, I mean. Like, who knows what your future holds. So let's see if we can find out!"
Her enthusiasm is hard to argue with.
"Ha! You may be on to something." Master Tamako laughs, though she seems to be speaking from her own past experiences with men.
Master Tamako hands Sookie written directions to meet her contact.
"Īe, arigatōgozaimashita Sookie-san. Soshite yoi tabi." She returns her student's head bow in turn. When Sookie looks up once again from her head bow, the teacher has a necklace in her hands. She opens it to wrap around Sookie's neck: a thin strip of leather, bearing a jade crescent moon amulet at its center. As she clasps it, she prays:
"Ōji wa anata o mamori, shukufuku shimasu, Sookie-san."
** spoiler omitted **
Sookie is surprised to receive the gift. She has grown unused to fine gifts, even though her youth was full of them. "You honor me greatly, Tamako-sensei. I will cherish this gift and it will remind me of you." Sookie pockets the directions and grabs her spear and smiles and begins to turn to leave, but not before looking back at Tamako one last time. "The Prince protect and bless you." She then heads off to her meeting, anticipation growing in her stomach.
"Being a judge would be amazing, Zel. But I could totally see you as a knight, too. Don't underestimate yourself!" Aliseya says.
Suddenly, Ali's eyes widen as she sucks in a swift intake of air through puckered lips: an idea she obviously loves has just occurred to her.
"Oh! We should totally do a spread later! With my deck, I mean. Like, who knows what your future holds. So let's see if we can find out!"
Her enthusiasm is hard to argue with.
"Yeah, it's been awhile since we've done that." Naught concurs, trying to recall how the last Harrowing ended up.
Christoph, caught off guard by the unusual question, shakes his head with an uncertain frown. As Father Yeniaminov clarifies his analogy further, Christoph nods his understanding even as he wonders at the history of the frail old man before him. This the founder of our order. You shouldn't be so surprised that he was a warrior fiercer then you, once.
"I think I begin to understand a bit more, though my part is still shrouded..." It's clear that the young Speaker is unsure what to make of the Father's news so far. Plenty of grim tidings, but little to act on. He's going to explain of course, but hard to sit and wait to hear it all.
He listens mutely to the priest's tale of cultists, evils thwarted, and mysterious groups fighting against the Way. Hard not to hear all the hullabaloo about the Beast, but the truth behind the tall tales is more bizarre then anything I'd have imagined. Scratching thoughtfully at his stubble, he mulls over the Voices in the area that could be sent to assist but freezes as Father Yeniaminov's meaning is made clear. Me? He means for me to go!?
Turning his gaze from the distant altar he'd been staring vacantly at to the priest scrutinizing him with age-clouded eyes, he raises an eyebrow in silent question. Torn between uncertainty, pride, and sense of duty the Speaker of the Voices of the Spire is silent for long moments. The Way must be stopped, clear enough, and I'm most veteran or near enough as to be no difference. If I don't, what poor lad is going to get saddled with this impossible mess? I can't turn my back, but this is something much worse then a ghoul or a ghast haunting some abandoned graveyard.
Heaving a deep sigh and steeling himself, he answers in a weak voice that grows stronger as he speaks, "I... I -Christoph Metzger, Speaker of the Voices of the Spire in Ustalav- will track down this Auren Vrood and his compatriots. Their plans, anathema to the Lady of Graves, will be revealed and thwarted. The Whispering Way, all that I can identify, will be ripped out root and stem like the poisonous, choking vine they are."
His assertive words belie the uncertainty roiling in his gut as he answers, but he focuses on the task at hand and pushes his doubt aside. "Do you know anything more about this team that's been interfering with the Way? I know that none of my Voices were involved and I doubt any investigator from the University would have failed to report such strange goings on to me more directly. Are these mercenaries who got more then they bargained for? "
"Mercenaries?" Father Yeniaminov begins to answer with an asthmatic chuckle. "The Mother certainly acts in mysterious ways."
He then reconsiders a bit. "Perhaps two of them may be capable warriors, though by all appearances these young girls are no mercenaries. Yes, that's right, they are but three young ladies: an apprentice barrister, a dancer, and a wild child, I've gathered. But then again, appearances can be quite deceiving."
He pauses a moment, perhaps contemplating how to bring up a complicated matter.
"It is perhaps best to reserve judgment. I have learned to trust the judgment of my contact, who has had dealings with these young women. Yet I would be remiss not to forewarn you that a strange power grows in one of the three. The dancer bears the potential for great divine power, which can aid you greatly in this mission. I am assured that she has a good heart. And yet, the nature of her power also comes with the potential for great evil." He adds more gravely, "Be careful with that one."
"Of the others I know less; they've been less careless in public. The apprentice barrister is very clever and articulate. There is surely more than meets the eye with her though, as she wields a rapier and wears light armor. The other is a wild child, afflicted by a strange condition which grants her an odd appearance. She's not to be trifled with, as she wields a great axe and light armor."
He concludes his answer by handing Christoph a writ with an address written on it, "They are meeting this morning to discuss their next steps. Go, meet with them. I would suggest caution, but also give them a chance. You may find them wanting and go your own way, but they may also prove quite invaluable against the Way."
The old priest, satisfied with all the knowledge he's imparted onto his young counterpart, nods acceptance of the young speaker's affirmation of intent to go on this mission.
"'A beatific heart is good medicine, but a broken spirit dries up the bones,'" he responds first with a familiar quote from the Bonesland in a Spiral. "The path before you is grim indeed, my son. Yet while my eyes are old and gray, I see clearly that the Mother of Souls favors you. Trust that her holy light will protect and guide you, even as you step forth into the dark."
As he speaks, he makes the sign of the spiral over Christoph's head, giving him his blessing.
Perplexed by the elder priest's amusement, Christoph waits patiently for the man to explain himself. Even with warning that unusual things are afoot, Christoph is caught entirely off-guard by the party who has already gone toe-to-toe with the Way. Women, only two who 'may be' warriors, and the Lady knows what real training they have have been hunting the Whispering Way? Trying to school the outright shock on his face, he croaks an agreement, "Yes, I suppose appearances can"
He nods slowly as he contemplates the mysterious few who were likely to be his companions for the foreseeable future. He takes the writ and tucks it into his belt. "I will certainly do what I can to work with this-" He trails off, mouth working silently as he tries to find the words, "-band of heroic young women. If they've survived so far, then they must surely be stronger then their initial description would suggest."
A thin smile breaks through the familiar careworn frown of the chief hunter of the undead for the Church of Pharasma at the familiar words. He replies as he bows his head to accept the blessing of his elder in the Church, "'The Mistress of Fate may mark the start of the path, but only those of faith and fortitude can trod it.'"
"I will do all in my power to walk the path that you've set before me, Father Yeniaminov. I will do my best to live up to the high example you've left for those Speakers who have come after you." Bowing deeply, he murmurs so that no one can here, "Hopefully my best is enough..."
The elder speaker grins. "I once doubted myself, in my youth. Believe it or not." It's as if he can see right into Christoph's soul. "'Have faith in the Seer of Fate, and do not doubt. It will be healing to your flesh, and refreshing to your bones,'" he imparts one final verse of encouragement.
"Ah," he adds as an afterthought, before Christoph has a chance to take his leave. The elder rummages through his pocket for a moment.
"Take this."
Father Yeniaminov takes hold of Christoph's hand. His dry skin feels like sandpaper on his own more youthful skin. He places a ring onto his finger.
"This has kept me safe from Her enemies on many occasions past. It shall not be long before I, at last, meet my Lady in the Bonesland face to face, where I will no longer need this."
The ring features a silver band, with a black onyx gem carved into the shape of the Lady's Spiral. When the light hits it, the spiral seems to almost glow a light bluish-white. The workmanship seems excellent.
"Farewell, my son. We shall not meet again, in this world. I have faith that you will not fail Her."
The solemn apprentice now stands nearby, ready to escort Christoph to the front door of the chapel when he is ready.
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"There shall be time enough for tarot readings later, ladies. We do have more urgent business to discuss first, I'm afraid."
The pragmatic elder voice of Judge Embreth Daramid precedes her appearance as she ascends the stairwell to the second floor, where Zelda, Naught, and Aliseya have already made themselves comfortable on the judge's luxurious sofa set. She speaks with the formal dialect of southern Ustalav. The ladies can otherwise only hear her mid-heeled shoes tapping upon the steps as she continues to ascend them.
The stern visage of the judge at last is seen as Judge Daramid makes her entrance. Dressed conservatively in a dark buttoned-up blouse and formal dress, her gaze scrutinizes the three comfortable ladies enough to cause them to sit up straight, without her having to utter a word.
"Welcome back to my home, Miss Beladodia, Miss Lamplighter, and Miss... Naught. I never did quite catch your surname...?"
She looks expectantly at Naught for an answer. Whether one is forthcoming or not, she continues on.
"Mister Giles. Tea for our guests?"
"Yes, my Lady." The gnome attendant enters the room, responding to the judge's critical tone. It's apparent that her impatience was not warranted, given the short fellow was on his way. He bears a silver teapot in one hand and a tray of fancy cups in the other. He politely offers a cup of tea to each lady in turn.
The judge waits much more patiently now, yet still sternly, as Mr. Giles wraps up serving the tea and makes his way back down the stairs.
"Thank you all for coming. You have been called here this morning for reasons which, I expect, you have already begun to deduce. I have another job for you. In the aftermath of your," she struggles for a moment to find the right words to describe the chaotic conclusion to the trial, "rather, unorthodox defense of the so-called Beast of Lepidstadt, new information has come to my attention concerning an even greater matter. A matter which, quite fortunately, does not involve your formative legal skills. But one in which you shall undoubtedly require assistance nonetheless."
She pauses to glance at the grandfather clock across the room.
"Before I delve into the matter however, we are waiting for two more guests to arrive. I have been in contact with a few of my acquaintances. Two of them have in turn contacted two prime candidates who may aid you in the days to follow."
Right on cue, a knock is heard at the front door, and Mr. Giles answers...
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Sookie reaches the front door of Judge Embreth Daramid's home, a very fine townhouse in the affluent center of Lepidstadt. You knock upon the front door.
The judge's manservant answers: a middle-aged gnome, dressed formally in a tux and bow tie. Looking up at you with elite airs, he welcomes you in and offers to take your coat.
"Judge Embreth Daramid, Magistrate of Lepidstadt, is ready to convene the meeting, Miss Clayten."
He leads you up the winding stairs into the second floor living room. The judge's living room is an elegant Victorian room. It features a chandelier above a marble central table, surrounded by a comfortable leather couch and matching chairs. Three windows face the eastern sky, with a splendid view of equally fancy town houses across the street. A grandfather clock ticks away as the time passes.
Already seated with cups of tea are three young ladies and, presumably, the judge herself.
"Welcome, Miss Clayten. You come with the highest commendation from Master Tamako. Please, be seated. We are waiting for one more arrival."
Judge Daramid's gaze is stern, her voice commanding. She's dressed conservatively in a dark buttoned-up blouse and dress. Her seated posture is perfect.
Beside her in the sofa and adjoining chair are three young women. One is an attractive blonde with blue eyes. Her smile is warm, though there may be the hint of something more somber behind those eyes. She's dressed well, bearing a pair of fine finessable blades at either side, and the hint of well-made mail peeks through her fine garments. Next to her is a Varisian wanderer, judging by her eccentric colorful style, dark hair and olive complexion. Her beauty is truly stunning, and she clearly dresses to accentuate her voluptuous figure. She's bejeweled with gold and yellow jade earrings and a matching necklace, with a colorful, slitted-sleeved silk blouse, fitted black pants, and warm boots. Curiously, her alluring eyes are multichromatic: one is hazel, the other an odd shade of red. Beside her is an interesting looking young woman. Her gold eyes are quite unusual indeed, but more startling is the mass of writing "hair" atop her head, and her large ears that you can swear more closely resemble bat wings. She's a bit shorter than the others, and is dressed in pragmatic attire: a brown oversized men's coat, over practical clothes underneath.
Before taking his leave with a formal bow, the manservant motions for Sookie to take her seat, asking, "Would you care for some tea, Miss Clayten?"
Though uncertain of the task set before him, Christoph takes heart in the encouragement and faith of his elder in the Voices. A difficult path is set before me, but I must do my best to walk it. I've been trained well and I've faith in the Lady of Graves. It will have to be enough...
He bows respectfully, ready to leave, when the Father interrupts. Curiously, he watches the priest's search but his eyes widen in surprise when the old man takes his hand. The ring, it's beautiful workmanship obvious from the moment it was placed on his finger, enthralls the young Speaker. Marveling at how well it fits, Christoph bows low to the elder Voice and says, "I cannot thank you enough, Father Yeniaminov. I'll cherish this gift and will honor you and your legacy as best I can. I hope that we will meet again."
Standing as the apprentice approaches, Christoph bows one final time to the eldery priest. With conviction, he asserts, "I will not fail in this task. Thank you again, Father. And farewell. May the Lady judge you justly."
Turning, he follows the apprentice out of the chapel, fingering the ring contemplatively as he goes. If that hero of the Voices believes in me, then I'd best be sure not to fail.
Christoph makes his way down the road westward, eventually reaching the more affluent center of the city. He passes by fine townhouses, until reaching the correct address. He knocks upon the front door...
The last guest has arrived, judging by another knock at the front door. Without complaint, poor Mr. Giles' gnomish legs are certainly getting their workout today; he heads down the human-sized stairs yet again to answer.
The judge's manservant answers the door for Christoph. A middle-aged gnome, dressed formally in a tux and bow tie, looks up at you with elite airs. He welcomes you in, and offers to take your coat.
"Judge Embreth Daramid, Magistrate of Lepidstadt, is ready to convene the meeting, Speaker Metzger."
He leads you up the winding stairs into the second floor living room. The judge's living room is an elegant Victorian room. It features a chandelier above a marble central table, surrounded by a comfortable leather couch and matching chairs. Three windows face the eastern sky, with a splendid view of equally fancy town houses across the street. A grandfather clock ticks away as the time passes.
Already seated with cups of tea are three young ladies and, presumably, the judge herself. Standing nearer to him from the entrance of the room is another woman, perhaps closer to Christoph's own age.
"Ah, our final guest has arrived. Welcome, Speaker Metzger. Father Yeniaminov speaks commendably of you. Please, be seated."
Judge Daramid's gaze is stern, her voice commanding. She's dressed conservatively in a dark buttoned-up blouse and dress. Her seated posture is perfect.
Before taking his leave with a formal bow, the manservant motions for Christoph to take his seat, asking, "Would you care for some tea, Speaker Metzger?"
”Just Naught. Child of nothing, they said I was a gift from Desna herself.” Naught replies.
”Hello!” Naught happily says as she waves in greeting at Sookie, a procedure she repeats when Christoph enters.
"Hi, I'm Aliseya."
Seated beside Naught, the lovely and colorfully dressed lady speaks with a slight Varisian accent. Her smile is contagious.
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Christoph waits at the door of the urban mansion, unsure that he'd found the right address. Looking again from paper, to the nearby street sign, and back again he concluded that he had in fact arrived at the appointed meeting point. We start the hunt for the Whispering Way in the richest of Lepidstadt's city center. Oddities abound.
The door opens for him and he finds himself greet by a gnome in formal apparel. Declining, politely, the offer to take his coat, Christoph allows himself to be led up the stairs from the entry hall and into the elegantly decorated living room.
Trailing a few paces behind the gnomish manservant, a stocky man whose build belies his true height steps tentatively into the room as if uncertain that he should be there. Tanned and road-worn, it would seem obvious from his unusual eyes that he is Varisian, but his heavy-set build and thick beard seem at odds with that idea. When He thanks the manservant for showing him the way, but his accent has nothing of the lilting tones of the People. For those who are adequately traveled, you'd have sworn he spoke with a southern Ustalavic inflection.
Despite the luxurious surroundings and prestigious company in which the stranger finds himself, he appears more ready to fight to the death on a battlefield then to attend a meeting in polite company. With weapons peaking out from over his shoulder, belted at his waist, and clinking softly against the shining breastplate as they dangle from a bandolier across his chest, he could readily be mistaken for a walking armory. His long crimson and black travelling coat, along with this intimidating panapoly, gives the man an aura of restrained menace.
Christoph's violet eyes, another mark in favor of a Varisian heritage, flicker over the guests already in attendance appraisingly. So very young... The cheery greeting of the smallest of the young women draws from him a reply, "Errr... hullo?"
His momentary impression of over-sized ears and unusually thick hair piques his curiosity, but his scrutinizing gaze is drawn to the commanding voice of the dignified older woman greeting him. With military precision, he bows low and replies, "Thanks for the invitation, Magistrate Daramid. Father Yeniaminov is a good man and I hope to prove of some use."
At her insistence, the Speaker casts about for a chair that doesn't appear damageable with the array of weapons hanging about his person. Clearly unsatisfied with his prospects, he takes a moment to remove a subset of his gear and carefully stow it in a corner. To those who look closely, it seems that his bow case is unusually small for the spear, bow, and array of other weapons poking out the back of it. Apparently satisfied that he won't damage his host's living room, he carefully takes a seat with the metallic clank of armor on armor. He replies to her inquiry, "Ah, thank you. Some tea would be appreciated."
Clearing his throat, he nods in greeting to the others in the room. Running an idle hand through the dark black of his charcoal beard, he says after a moments contemplative pause, "Sorry, I should introduce myself. I'm Christoph Metzger, Speaker of the Voices of the Spire. Good to meet you, Aliseya. And you, Miss...?" He trails off meaningfully as he waits for Naught to introduce herself.
Naught couldn't help but watch, or rather, eyes dart to every random piece of equipment the man covered himself with and moved off, especially the shinier pieces.
"Naught! Please'ta meetcha," she excitedly says when he asks her name.
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Sookie’s red-brown hair is in a sideshave. She has fine features and her skin has a healthy glow with a fair share of freckles. For all intents and purposes, unless someone has true seeing, she appears to be wearing a brown three-piece tweed suit for the more casual, low-key look. She keeps her longspear packed away in her haversack this time, as carrying large weapons into meetings with judges is a decidedly poor look.
Sookie doesn't remember the last time she's been in a room with this many women at once, outside of a women's ward at an asylum. She has developed a tendency to self-isolate during her travels with Tamako-sensei. Were it not for her putting in a conscious effort into staying abreast of how best to carry on casual conversations, she might very well have forgotten. Too long without a paramour of her own hasn't worked to her advantage either, as she has a developed an infuriatingly self-conscious streak around attractive women, and when you account for things other than pure appearances, practically all women are attractive to her in some way.
"I would adore some tea, my good man. I am not picky. Which I mean in the figurative sense, not the literal one, as I am indeed quite discerning when it comes to tea. But the point stands." She plays the nervousness off as a joke to lighten the mood and trick herself into loosening up. It doesn't quite work, so she falls back on practiced formality.
She bows formally to the other guests, her right forearm pressed across her stomach like a butler.
"Greetings, salutations, well met, and all that. My name is Sookie Clayten. I am a follower of Tsukiyo, who if you are unfamiliar with, is the Tien God of the Moon, Madness, Spirits, and so forth. I am trained as a healer, both of physical and mental maladies, and can perform either via means mundane or magical."
She takes a seat. She eschews the petite and sits with her legs apart as she leans forward on her hand, the elbow of that arm propped against the armrest.
"Your reputations precede you, Ladies. It is an honor." She lazily turns her eyes towards Christoph, and a slight playful smile emerges. "My apologies, but I was not expecting another new arrival, and I am unfamiliar with the 'Spires' or what they need to have someone speak for them. Would you enlighten me?"
"Hello," Naught brightly says, trying to keep her focus on the other newcomer's shiny equipment as well. "I've never heard of that deity before, they sound cool. And it will be great having a healer around!" she continues on, her elation deflating for a second before she catches herself.
Christoph can't help but notice that despite the enthusiastic greeting, Naught doesn't seem to make eye contact but instead is intensely focused on his equipment. Perhaps it's not the most polite to show up armed for the teeth, but it can't be helped now. Chagrined, he replies, "Good to meet you as well, Ms. Naught."
He nods in greeting to the woman sitting in three-piece tweed suit. A professional's appearance would seem to make her the barrister then? No armor nor any weapons that I can see though, but that means little enough. Deciding that he should simply wait to learn more, he listens politely to her inquiry. Despite himself, a small smile of amusement at her speculation creases his face as he shakes his head, "It's not the Spire for which I Speak, but rather the Lady in whose charge it falls. The Spire to which my order is devoted is the same Spire on which the Boneyard rests. My Lady of Graves -the Holy Pharasma- resides in her palace and judges all mortal souls as they pass from this life and into the next. Unlike most of Her clergy who shepherd the living, the Voices sole responsibility is the destruction of the undead. They are anathema to the Lady of Graves and a perversion of the natural order. We specialize in hunting them down and eliminating them."
He pauses a moment and nods his thanks as his tea arrives. He takes a sip and clears his throat before continuing, "Speaker is my title and an indicator of my rank in the Voices. I am head of our order here, though I still report to the Church in Caliphas."
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"It's nice to meet you too, Christoph. Can I call you that? You have nice eyes..."
Aliseya smiles at the speaker, and speaks that last sentence immediately after her question yet totally naturally and innocently, with no hint of a come on. Though her eyes do linger for a moment too long, into that lovely shade of violet...
"Greetings and salutations to you too, Sookie," she breaks eye contact with the walking armory, and now addresses the auburn lady with the same smile.
Pensively, she ponders a moment, "Tsukiyo, Tsukiyo..." Her hazel and red multichromatic eyes suddenly widen with enthusiasm, "Oh! I know of him. Nice! His symbol is the jade crescent moon, right? I read a lot, when I can. Oh! I have some jade jewelry, see?"
The Varisian wanderer looks downwards at herself, pointing out to Sookie a finely wrought yellow jade pendant that dangles from a gold necklace, cushioned right in between her ample cleavage.
"Our reputations? Oh, you mean because of the trial..." She seems unsure how to respond to that.
Turning back to Christoph, she wonders the same as Sookie.
'"Voices of the Spire?" Hmmm, not sure I've heard of that before either...'