"You compelled this 'witness,' rather," the holy sister interrupts.
She now addresses Christoph. "Her witness was an unnatural creature... of unlife. An intelligent zombie of some form, the likes of which I've never seen before. And she has the power to control them, Speaker Metzger. Do you understand?"
Defiantly, Aliseya protests.
"I was trying to help an innocent man avoid being BURNED TO DEATH!"
Realizing she is a bit loud for a solemn chapel, she takes a deep breath. And then, her eyes begin to water up as she continues to explain.
"I didn't ask for this power. If I could have it taken away from me right now, I would!"
Looking Lady Johanessen right in the eyes, "And that's why I need your help, lady. Maybe this thing in me, maybe it's the cause of this dark power that I don't friggin' want."
Peering back at Aliseya, Lady Johannessen seems unmoved.
"I do not trust you. But, it may be so. Only the Lady of Fates knows."
Looking to Christoph, "I will examine her and help her, if I can. For your mission's sake, Speaker Metzger. But only if you really deem it... wise."
Sheer horror captivates Christoph's mind and heart at the prospect of allying himself with someone capable of dark necromancy. And yet, he is torn. For it would seem the troubled girl is critical to his mission against the greater evil... and he does not want to fail Father Yemianov's final mission for him.
Then, a lesser known sacred verse comes into his mind: 'To remove a thorn in your finger, you use another thorn; then you throw both of them away. But if you keep the second thorn which was used to remove the first one, you’ll surely be stuck again.'
Naught quietly puts a hand on Aliseya’s back as the woman talks, resisting the urge at the moment to throw in some quips. The current situation didn't seem like the best time for it.
The wizard, whom Zelda begins to wonder if he isn't rather a bard for his showman-like qualities, seems mildly offended. "Perish the thought, my dear! Why I would never sell a frail item to a lovely customer such as yourself, of course!"
He is sure to open the display case, takes the belt out, and carefully places it into Zelda's hands. As he does so, he continues to speak. "This belt is made of no ordinary mundane material, I daresay! Though it may feel as malleable as fine soft leather, the magic that entered into it when it was once enchanted has worked to preserve and protect the material, causing mere leather to be as strong as steel, or stronger!"
"See?!" he emphasizes as she tries it on, "It's in such excellent condition, is it not? Why, doesn't it seem newly made?"
The belt does feel quite vital in Zelda's hands. Though she's got his number, he's not kidding about it seeming to look like new. The soft leather seems quite durable... maybe it's his story that's made-up?
As she puts it on, Zelda feels herself suddenly... empowered.
Christoph watches the scene unfold impassively, at first. He shakes his head in reply to the stern woman of his church, eyes flickering to Aliseya and to Naught then back.
The fear and trepidation so clearly on the sister's face unsettles him and his intense gaze zeroes in on Aliseya as she begins to explain. If true, hardly the most heinous of stories. This golem sounds to be dangerous and perhaps unnatural but if there was some other danger lurking... Any hopeful thinking on the Speaker's part is dashed by the Sister's revelation.
Stern eyes regard Aliseya warily and he listens to her impassioned defense of herself with a face seemingly carved from stone. The power over undeath... anathema. She claims not to want this power but I've never heard of anyone other then those seeking power or glory to have such a... grim power. Skeptical, but not willing to turn away from his task so soon, he gauges as best he can the young dancer's -necromancer's?- honesty.
Torn between warring obligations, he finally relents as the words of 'The Bones Land in a Spiral' inspires him, "Please assist her, Lady Johannessen. To control the undead is anathema but the mission for which this young woman's aid is needed is nothing short of crucial. I will keep an eye on her." Addressing Aliseya directly, "I believe, for now, your earnest desire to rid yourself of this power. You will explain everything you know of it to me -perhaps with Miss Clayten as well- so that we can... contain it. I will not brook the creation of undead and I'd strongly suggest you do not TRY while we travel together."
Turning back to the priestess, "You should know, before you attempt anything, that I studied, magically, the -curse? object? ... it wasn't clear- before we returned to the church. It caused Miss Belododia agonizing pain though I only used a simple orison to determine it's nature. It IS magical and a curse besides. The school of magic vaguely familiar but aside from calling it a curse I can't say more without more study." He winces at the recollection, "Given the pain it caused, I didn't want to probe further without consulting someone better versed in healing."
To Aliseya, "Kindly recount the story you told me about your affliction, Miss Belododia. It is important that Lady Johannessen has all the facts."
The words fighting across her tongue finally manage to outwit her thoughts. "It's currently contained in a pleasant Aliseya shaped box, so I would highly recommend taking the absolute bestest care of said Aliseya shaped box."
Lady Johanessen listens carefully to all that the Speaker of the Voices has to say. She awkwardly pauses at Naught's words for a moment, then nods her silent agreement.
"Very well, Speaker Metzger."
Addressing the acolyte, "Acolyte Grimbald, might I have a glass of wine?" Looking at the others with an expression that this requires some explanation, "It is necessary for my work."
The lady now addresses Aliseya. Still a bit wary to come close to the dancer, she asks her to "Please, be seated comfortably" and motions for her to sit on the edge of the bed.
"Tell me your story, then."
As Aliseya recounts the tale of the "masked creep" who violated her with the cursed object, the lady's hesitation towards Aliseya gives way to intense attention. When finished, Lady Johanessen seems to ponder the event silently for a long moment.
"Okay," she breaks her silence. "Now, hold very still while I try to identify what exactly we are dealing with here." Looking to the others, "I cannot guarantee that she will not experience the pain again. I will try to avoid it if I can, and will try to work quickly. But if she does experience pain, two of you should stand ready on either side of her, to hold her as still as possible while I work. This would help me to focus and figure it out more quickly, and with less pain."
The acolyte then enters the room, handing a cup of red wine to the lady. "Thank you," she says while taking the cup. Withdrawing a feather from a small satchel, she meditatively focuses on it as she stirs the feather in the wine...
In spite of his experiences to the contrary, Christoph seems to have encountered his first dark necromancer who genuinely seems to want nothing to do with her unsought-after dark powers.
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"Thank you," Ali says to Christoph with a smile when he reassures her that he believes her. Though she then adds, "I'll try not to..."
"I could use a glass, too. It is absolutely necessary for me, too," she half-jokingly says to the acolyte on his way out, risking a smile for the stern Lady Johanessen.
Zelda has this guy's number for sure. He's a salesman, through and through. She's seen this act before, dozens of times before she surmises... performed on occasion by herself when needed. Is his story true? It's probably a tale based on some facts, but not without a healthy dose of exaggeration and embellishment.
However, she also senses that he really does believe what he says about the belt's durability. Maybe magic really does strengthen items when enchanted? It is possible, Zelda concedes to herself... or at least the scholarly salesman seems to really believe it.
On mention of him being a bard, "Ah! You've an eye for talent, I see. Not just a pretty face, but sharp of mind as well. Indeed, in my home country I once trained with the whirling dervish dancers. Magnificent! Regal! And so deeply spiritual and fulfilling it was, to dance with the mystery of life itself..." He carries on for a while about his glory days of scimitar dance mastery back in his homeland of Katapesh.
Glossing over Zelda's downplaying of the old belt, his exuberance does not fade. "For such a lovely young lady as yourself? Only ten-thousand gold crowns. A real steal, I must say, or my name isn't Malcolm Zanzibar!"
Zelda wonders if his name really is that...
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A few days ago, she spotted them...
In the Shudderwood, she saw a group along the trail that gave her a most uneasy feeling. So she hid out of sight from them, and watched.
Some, she noticed, blankly stared ahead with soulless eyes. Their flesh was an unhealthy gray. And then she noticed the stench of death in the air...
Zombies. A necromancer with living followers and bound abominations, she deduced.
But the spirits of her ancestors conveyed a warning to avoid confronting the necromancer's cult on her own; she would not prevail. She should instead head west along the trail from whence they came, and was foretold that she will find allies against this evil.
She felt guided to visit the castle, Schloss Caromarc, about a mile north of the western edge of the Shudderwood where it transitions into the Dipplemere Swamp.
...
Today, on this brisk winter day at about noon time, the fens give way to a deep, rocky gorge at the northern edge of this very swamp. A peculiar group of buildings clings to steep cliff edges above half a dozen plummeting waterfalls. Beyond a fortified gatehouse, a stone bridge arches gracefully over the raging torrents below. Perched precariously beyond this is a fine, fortified manse and a ruined building that appears to have partially collapsed into the river below. A slender rope bridge, replacing the fallen remnants of a stone bridge, links to a strange tower pierced with beautiful stained glass windows depicting bizarre beasts. A further building teeters to the north of this, but how it is reached is impossible to see from here. Far above, a great tower rises from an isle of stone to the sky, ending in a great steeple topped with a huge lightning conductor.
The front gate stands open. The stench of death lingers in the air, emanating from the rotting body of a hideous canine-like creature to one side of the gate.
A robed figure approaches the stone bridge. Removing her hood, the beautiful young woman takes in the sight before her. Her ethereal eyes seem not fully present though, as if seeing both what is there to be seen... and what is unseeable.
She ponders her ancestors now, wondering what exactly they've guided her to now...
Christoph listens to the tale again, face steely, while absorbed with this own choice. Roiled by indecision and unsure that he'd made the right choice he lends only half an ear to the now familiar story. She's not lying. Or she's particularly adept at lying and I'm not skilled enough to tell. No simple path forward, but I must defeat the way. It's what the Father would have wanted of me. Addressed by the Sister, he nods in acknowledgement and takes up a position by Aliseya's side.
Smiling and shaking her head as Aliseya asks for wine as well she takes up a stance opposite Christoph next to the dancer, gently stroking the side of her face as she does so.
Sookie calmly accepts wine as well. Her years of high society life made her quite resistant to its effects from all the polite glasses of wine she had to drink.
The acolyte gives a strange look as additional requests for wine are made after Holy Sister Johanessen's. But he grimly complies anyway. Sookie and Ali both feel a bit more relaxed from the cheap yet effective red wine he brings them.
The holy sister continues to stir her wine. As she recites a mantra, Naught and Christoph on either side of Aliseya both sense the young dancer's body tense up. Ali's breathing becomes more rapid, but she does not cry out.
Setting the cup of wine upon a nearby table, it continue to whirl about of its own accord. The feather levitates above the glass. And Lady Johanessen, her eyes now emanating a celestial white glow, seems to look deeply into Aliseya's leg where the intrusion rests. Placing a hand over the region, Aliseya's body begins to spasm.
Her eyes looking into Naught's, Aliseya tries to smile for her sake... but she involuntarily begins groaning in pain.
"Dolor..." the lady mutters. Her expression shifts from neutral to grimly concerned now. "Signum dolor."
As the lady continues to see into the wanderer's leg, her groans rise in volume, her body trembles more.
Unmoved, the lady presses on, and sees more. "Notam autem semita."
Naught and Christoph begin to have real trouble keeping her still. Ali's body sweats profusely as her muscular spasms rise to the level of violent convulsions. She cannot even scream properly, for even her facial muscles are beyond her ability to control. She can only stare about, with twitching wide eyes of fear and pain.
At last, the lady takes notice of Aliseya's pain. However, she seems intent on continuing her work, though she looks to Christoph and Naught to hold Ali steadier for her to continue.
"EEEYAAAAUUUUHHH!!! YAAAAEEYAAAAOOOOWWW!!!"
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Letting out a long slow breath that mists the air, Rhia’s cool grey eyes scan the area, taking in the setting……the massive imposing gate, the familiar stink of death, the looming aura of supernatural menace….this was definitely the place.
”Well…this is where you wanted me. Let’s see what lies beyond.” she says softly, seemingly to no one in particular, pausing a moment before smiling wryly at the response.
Gazing down at the rotting carcass she frowns, slight lines forming in her otherwise flawless alabaster complexion.
'Troll hound. That’s never good. Wherever one found trollhounds, trolls were never very far behind….not to mention whatever had killed this one.'
The air around her swirls, sweeping away the carrion stench as she steps through the open gate, eyes alert for any sign of an enemy.
"I'm sorry, we can get through this." Naught weakly tells Aliseya as she tries to keep her still without hurting her. Otherwise they would all keep coming back to this.
The smiling salesman of a scholar bids the young Zelda a fine afternoon as he collects and counts up her significant sum of gold on his counter.
With her new old belt and some wire for Aliseya's headpiece, Zelda heads out of the shop. She's off to find the right gemstones to top her handicraft.
Brilliant Baubles by Bordana is precisely where the blacksmith told Zelda to find it. Here where the posh central district of Lepidstadt borders its southwestern manufacturing district, craftsmen and women tailor their handicrafts to the more well-to-do buyer.
Zelda finds the shop quite adorable from the outset. The decor, like the shop's sign post, is classic and artsy. Fuzzy figures move about behind the semi-opaque glass front door.
She opens the front door to find a few well-dressed persons within. A violet-haired gnomish lady in colorfully flamboyant yet formal attire stands behind a large elegant counter of marble. Zelda takes her for the proprietor, presumably Bordana. At almost the same height as her young and well dressed human customers, Zelda deduces there must be a raised floor behind the counter.
The glass counter itself serves to encase various elegant and expensive-looking jewels. Some are classy while others show a more creative and colorful style. A glance from Zelda reveals nothing but finished pieces, not individual gemstones.
The proprietor presently peers at a beautiful diamond ring in her hand through her classy monocle as she holds it upright for her transfixed customers. The dashing young man proudly pays for the ring with quite a sum of platinum and, placing it on the young lady's ring finger, she smiles with satisfaction. The couple make their way out of the shop past Zelda without noticing her.
"Velcome to Brilliant Baubles, my dear," the proprietor welcomes Zelda now with a posh Lepidstadt accent. "How might I be of service?"
As the slight woman steps through the two-story stone gatehouse's doorway, she enters a broad chamber with a vaulted roof. Two large fires burn in the room, and spiral stairways climb up in each corner toward the ceiling. A second gate stands on the far side of the room. And a stained and ragged gray tunic with blue trim lies on the ground.
Though she may climb either staircase, she feels guided to first push one of the double stone doors open. Taking in the view, she steps onto a broad stone terrace of some twenty feet in width. Just ahead, a stone bridge arches above a waterfall that drops into the river two hundred feet below. There are no rails at its edge. Fifty feet across lies the great front door of the first structure of the premises, a fortified manse.
Something moves Rhia to look down into the rapids below. She spots something two hundred feet below at the base of the manse ahead of her. Though partially covered by the misty air and white foamy waters, she makes out the roughly humanoid form of another creature... a troll. Lying prone on a rocky outcropping, perhaps it is deceased like the hound. She might surmise that it took a fall from the other side of the bridge. Although, knowing a bit about troll regenerative abilities, the fall alone probably would not have killed it...
The great door across the bridge beckons her.
The young woman's screams as she convulses under his arms echo in Christoph's ears even as he holds her down. Sweet Lady of Fate, let this healing be done quick. He sets his teeth and focuses on his task at hand, sparing only a split-second glance at the Holy Sister to check her resolve. If it can set her to screaming so, it can't be good. Damn the Way. The Lady's judgement can't come swiftly enough for the lot of them.
Naught and Christoph manage to keep Aliseya somewhat steady, even amidst her frightening convulsions. Lady Johanessen continues her work. She places both hands over the dancer's convulsing leg, held steady by Naught. Closing her white-glowing eyes, she recites some strange syllables, and her palms begin to glow white as well.
With a weak, distorted yelp, Aliseya's body suddenly goes limp in her companions' arms. The holy sister opens her eyes, still aglow, and takes a second to say, "Hold her."
She takes a step back. Outstretching her arm, she now points at the leg. Reciting more strange syllables, her finger traces up Aliseya's body towards her abdomen. She continues to trace upwards, to her chest. And then, to her throat. As it does so, the others may notice a small lump in Ali's flesh moving along where the finger points.
The lump now disconcertingly climbs her throat in a manner that makes everyone want to cough it up for her. It then submerges beneath the dancer's skull.
Her red eye bulges. Sickeningly, a small black object too large to comfortably be there peeks out from the side of Aliseya's eyeball. Lady Johanessen's outstretched hand unfurls as the object levitates forth from the dancer's eye, hovering over her open hand.
Not wanting to touch the object herself, she directs it to land on the small table beside her. With a light clink, it does as commanded.
The holy sister's eyes then lose their celestial-like glow, and she breathes a sigh of relief. She now looks at Aliseya, who is now unconscious in her companions' arms.
She then moves towards the young woman again, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"It is done," she begins.
"She will be fine," she quickly adds to everyone's relief, with a slight smile. "She will need a day to rest, but she will be fine."
Weary from exerting her power over the cursed artifact, Lady Johanessen then takes a seat.
While she was curious about what lay at the top of the grand staircases, Rhia knew well enough to follow the less than subtle nudge of her ancestors' guidance, blended almost indiscernibly with her own intuition.
With a steadying breath, the ghost whisperer strides forward, cautiously making her way across the imposing bridge.
The great waterfall far below plummets into the depths to her left. Undaunted, the ghost whisperer crosses the arched bridge. It ends at a small cobbled terrace with a curious looking iron door depicting a scowling sun being devoured by ravenous clouds.
She notices a hidden bell pull hanging by the eastern side of the door. But she senses that she should try the door directly instead.
Unlocked, she pushes the door open. She walks inside into a great hall. On the far wall, a huge portrait hangs above an enormous, lit fireplace in this large entry chamber.
A strange object of metal and flesh rests on the floor before her as well. Though predominantly a thing of metal and wire, this loping construct has some organic parts that seem more for decoration than for a purpose. It rests motionless upon its side, with two huge, scythe-like forearms outstretched.
Three doors lead further inside the manse. One lies on either side of the fireplace, with a third to her right. A set of steep stairs rises to the right as well.
Naught forces herself to hold Ali down, obviously not in physical pain it still tore her to put the dancer through this. But it was worth it.
Hopefully.
She stops breathing when she watches the unwanted invader be forcibly moved up and out, finally making herself take strained breath when the priestess gives the good news. Making her grip go from restraint to comforting she asks "What... is that?'
Stopping to study the strange blend of flesh and metal, seemingly part weapon, part entity, Rhia briefly whispers a familiar litany as mist seems to swirl in her eyes, her vision shifting to perceive the presence of undeath as she scans the construct.
Rhia does not sense the presence of undeath as she looks for a long moment at the bizarre creature of flesh and metal.
It suddenly twitches! Giving her a bit of a fright, its scythe-like arms then slowly contract, and it neglects to make any additional movements.
The seer then notices a small puddle of what looks like a mixture of blood and an oily substance beneath the creature. That, the battered metal, and the off-putting grinding sound its one mangled arm makes at they contract, all suggest that, whatever it is, or was, it has taken a heavy beating recently.
Without opening her weary eyes, the seated holy sister begins to answer Naught's question.
"A tracking device."
The acolyte retrieves some water for the holy sister. Opening her eyes, she takes a sip, then continues.
"But it's more than that. Whomever crafted this, they poured such cruelty, such malice, into it..." Her expression grows disgusted by the memory of what she sensed.
"It curses whomever possesses it with an arcane brand. This brand is visible to its creator from a great distance, letting him know the accursed's whereabouts at any given moment."
"Worse yet," she continues, "should anyone attempt to remove the object or even just try to identify it, it's also etched with an evil mark that induces great, paralyzing pain to the bearer. As we've seen," she looks knowingly to Christoph, and then to the others.
She then warns everyone, "Do NOT even think of touching it. It will bind with your flesh, and wrack your body with pain if you try to then remove it..."
"And for the cultist to further implant it deep within her body, is such a gruesome violation..." Her expression of disgust turns to anger, and she shakes her head disdainfully.
"I've not seen the likes of such evil handicraft before."
Gazing now at the resting girl, "This necromancer really wants to keep track of her every move. I can imagine why..." she blurts, but hesitates to complete her point.
She then adds, "I was able to momentarily disable its power in order to more safely remove it from the girl. But it's now activated once more. It is trackable, even now, outside her body. I do not have the means to permanently destroy it," she then looks to the acolyte, "But, perhaps we can obscure it from its master's gaze. Acolyte Grimbald, do you know if Father Yemianov has a lead box we could use?"
The acolyte looks thoughtfully for a moment, then leaves the room to find the described item.
Naught seethes as the sister describes just what the vile thing was. Her eyes glance to it then up to the sister. Finding her storybook and a pen in her coat she quickly scribbles onto a half-blank page before holding it up for the woman to read. "Listening as well, it knows you called it a tracking device, and now it's humming." the note says.
Lady Johanessen blinks twice. She turns her head to the device, explaining, "I did not detect such magic that can hear words..."
"Just in case..." she adds, holding a finger to her lips to indicate silence until the acolyte returns.
Acolyte Grimbald reenters the room. The holy sister telekinetically lifts the object once more, and places it inside the box in the acolyte's hands. He then closes the lid, and locks it.
With a sigh of relief, "Good."
"Nice. But um, yeah it did light up when you said the phrase 'tracking device' so it, and the person watching/listening, know something is up now."
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Zelsa looks around the shop admiring the owners work. I dabble in creating a few pieces here and there but you work is amazing!
Pearing at the bueatiful pieces in awe ze ok da looks up. I wish i could adford such bueaty but alass i am onky able to purchase a few stones. I am looking to create a small hair piece with gems to highlight her hair. She is a dancer you see and she has gone through a great deal lately. Do you have some small gems for sale?
'What if the Lady's name happened here?' Rhia wonders as she gives the odd construct a final glance. Anything that could do that much damage was likely also the reason for the dead troll fog, and the unfortunate troll. A deeply sobering thought.
Assessing her options, she turns to her right, cautiously trying the door there.
Sookie takes another sip of her tea, maintaining an unflappable demeanor even throughout the whole explanation of this deeply concerning development regarding the so-called "tracking device."
"An interesting choice. The device was designed to be hard to remove while making it easy to notice that something was wrong. Presumably, the implanter assumed we lacked the knowledge and capability to deal with the injury, regardless of our natural desire to heal a companion."
"Or they're just cruel, considering what it took to get it out," Naught thinks aloud while gently stroking the side of Aliseya's head.
Christoph, struggling to prevent the poor girl (and potentially dangerous necromancer he adds mentally) doing herself harm in her convulsions. Startled by Aliseya's limpness as the priestess' spell reaches its crescendo, Christoph almost releases his hold until told otherwise. Unsure, he watches in horrified fascination as the small black thing emerges from his companion's eye.
He meets the holy sister's eyes with his face grim as the dancer rests on the table. "This is also new to me. I thought I'd seen the depths of human depravity but I find myself exploring strange new depths." He casts a glance at the still figure on the table, face roiling with a multitude of different emotions. Wariness wars with sympathy wars with revulsion.
Christoph cocks an ear, hearing the buzzing at close to the same time as Naught. His eyes train on the device and he reads her words. Eyes widen and he glances to the lady and finds his concerns only slightly alleviated.
"Cruel they certainly are, but it's an unusual choice to make. I'll have to think on that." The red and black clad inquisitor casts an appraising glance at the quiet, and oddly dressed, woman.
Naught nods, then at the appraisal shrugs, the coat she's wearing giving the gesture much more heft.
With the device stowed away safely in the metal box, the acolyte takes it away. Presumably, to a safe location to hide.
More concerned with the truth than with sparing the group's feelings, the holy sister adds the disturbing realization that, "If there is such magic within the device, then all which may have been spoken since the device was first implanted in her may be known to the one listening in."
She adds, with slight comfort, "The sound and light may simply have been how it reactivates, after I temporarily disabled it." She suggests the possibility that, "It may have been a coincidence that it happened to light up at the moment I began speaking."
"Though... I cannot say for sure. Either way, what's done is done. The Lady will surely protect and aid you against such an enemy of the living." She traces Pharasma's spiral over her chest.
She shakes her head, adding to the conversation on the cruelty required to afflict Aliseya thus. "I simply cannot comprehend such depravity..."
"By your hands, may Her justice be served," she adds with more passion now to the group, while making eye contact with her fellow Pharasmin priest, Speaker Metzger.
Unconscious Aliseya lies in bed as the conversation unfolds. She seems to be softly groaning to herself as she recovers.
As if the day weren't strange enough, everyone oddly feels a bit uneasy about her groans. You may even feel goosebumps on the backs of your necks...
"Mmmh... mmmbv... nnnnh... f'langrk nnnmmmh... a'rrrmmm... nnnh... mmmh..."
Bordana smiles at Zelda. "Why thank you, kind lady."
Waving for her to approach the counter, "Ah, you are kind indeed to care for your friend so. Ja ja, let me fetch meine chest..."
She snaps her fingers. A small gnomish boy in posh attire and slicked back purple hair approaches. The lady instructs him to, "Ah Bobbel. Fetch my gems for me, will you please?"
The boy quickly and quietly does as instructed. He returns with a small chest. The jeweler opens it with a key from her necklace, and opens it for Zelda to peruse.
"So what colors or kinds of stones are you looking for then, eh dearie?" she asks Zelda.
Zelda can spot a variety of colors and stones in the chest. Her knowledge of jewelry informs her that she's found the right place. There are red carnelians of a few different sizes that she can not only probably afford, but would go quite nicely with the carnelian and silver necklace, bracelets, and earrings Ali sometimes wears. There are other gems ad colors as well in the chest she might like as well.
Rhia approaches the oaken door at the base of the stairs to her right. She is able to open the finely wrought metal latch, and opens the door.
The narrower hall before Rhia is walled with more paneled oak. It stretches about twenty feet ahead, then opens up to the left. Four doors line the walls, two on either side of her.
Even inside, she still hears the low rumbling of the rapids from outside.
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Naught nods to the holy sister.
As Aliseya starts to groan she turns back to her. "Hey, how ya feelin?" she softly asks.
Christoph is grim as the new revelations about the fiendish device surface. "We'll have to assume the Way knows we're coming and who each of us are. Given that, I don't like the idea of anyone being off on their own from here out. We'll want to stay together as much as possible and to set guards even where we might think we're safe. Some of my Lady's Blessings might prove helpful for that."
He traces the Spiral as he meets the Holy Sister's gaze. He answers, softly, but with conviction, "I've dedicated myself to the task. I will not fail Father Yeniaminov and I will not fail the Mistress of Graves."
Casting a glance at the still form of the beautiful Varisian woman on the table, he continues though the waver in his voice speaks to his trepidation, "And thank you for healing Miss Belododia. Her... talents... are anathema but no one deserves such a vile desecration of their person. I will... keep an eye on her."
Naught receives no response from Aliseya yet, save for continuing to mumble in her sleep for the next minute...
"Y'KUUL GLAAKI AZ'GAZKH!"
The dancer's mumbles suddenly get loud and clear as her body jolts upward to a seated position. Her haggard voice is eerily polyphonic, both shrill and gravelly deep at once, as if an old and wrathful crone had spoken. It is a voice that does not at all belong to the young perky woman. It sends chills down everyone's spines, inspiring a primal fear, as if that which should never be has been unleashed before them.
Her eyes are now open, but she seems... quite different. Upon her face is a twisted smirk of festering rage. Her red eye is entirely bloodshot now, though that at least can be explained from having a black object removed from it moments ago...
...and then, she blinks twice. Only confusion remains in her expression now. Not the slightest hint of anger at all. She looks at Naught. Tears begin to well up in her eyes. And then, she moans in pain.
Her hand slowly reaches for her bloodshot eye. Cupping it gently over the painful eye, she moans in pain again.
"Like, omigods... that hurts, like, so much!!" she says, in her normal voice.
With a knowing nod, she simply replies, "I will pray for her, speaker. And for your success."
Moments later, as Aliseya's dramatic outburst unfolds, the holy sister's jaw drops. She stares fearfully at Ali. Confused by the spectacle, she blankly takes in the scene of Ali, now crying.
The holy sister then closes her eyes. Her hands in prayer position, she mutters some words in a strange language. After a moment, she opens her eyes once again.
Staring deeply at the dancer, she concludes, "Evil as that object is, I fear it is not the source of her dark power. I know not what its source might be. I sense... no possession... no enchantment upon her. I fear her struggle may be with her own innate power, her inner nature..."
Sensetive to subtle vibrations in the ether, and ever aware of the unseen world around her, Rhia's head turns as she notices the slight
breeze go past her..... seemingly without a source.
"I get the feeling we aren't alone" she says softly, not entirely to herself.
Naught stands by at the ready as Aliseya goes through her episode, equally afraid and concerned. The two soon switch when the Dancer’s voice goes back to normal, or as normal as it could get and she begins crying. ”It’s okay, Ali, they managed to get it out.” she tells her as she steps over to embrace her.
Aliseya's sudden change and exclamation elicit a grunt in surprise from the Pharasman inquisitor. He finds his hand reflexively at his dagger's hilt and his hand on his Pharasmin holy symbol as he watches the woman warily. The sudden reversion from fierce crone-like anger to innocent pain does little to calm his anxiety.
He replies to the Holy Sister while still watching the woman warily, "Your prayers are much appreciate, Sister. I too will pray for our success. I can only hope that any struggle the young woman has with her inner power -as you call it- doesn't end tragically."