Sabinus also wonders aloud, "I wonder if this Council are the ones that are responsible for the destruction of our coven. Is there evidence of anyone else pulling Pavaleen's strings?"
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Ava smiles as she reads the letter, then tucks it into her clothes.
"The Council... This troubles me greatly." Ava says, folding her arms as she turns back to the group. "The name is familiar. It is a name whispered amongst the rogues of Westcrown."
Her footsteps echo as she paces slowly, continuing her tale, her words words bringing with them an unexpected weight.
"A myth, one in which I'd never placed much stock... Until now. Whispers of a black organization controlling Westcrown from the shadows. A dark council. A shadow council." Ava pauses for a moment, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows across her face.
Amon rolls his eyes, "Yeah I've heard of them, when I was seven and my mom was trying to scare me into going to bed at night! ... or maybe that was the boogy monster, but either way --that's a stretch." He looks around at the others, looking for support
Sabinus identifies all but the magic-tinged breastplate; 2 potions of Cure Moderate Wounds, and a +1 Morningstar.
Caladius sighs as he turns away from Shilcer's corpse. "There but for some damnable god's grace go I."
"I might have heard of them, but as Amon says, only stories. The Upper Reach is too far removed from the lower cities to know of them." He looks at the various notes, pondering.
"So, this Council. A virtually undetectable organization that supplies aspirant groups, with a name that implies control. However, it leaves notes to be easily found, with no cipher or magic to protect the message. This Council either is also slipping, or growing more bold. Or has bribed the Wiscrani authorities so as to stay invisible. Or all three."
He looks at Ava. "The third note made you smile. What did it say?"
"And weren't there some rot grubs in this place?"
Ava folds her arms, nodding at Amon's words. "You're probably right." she says, glancing over at Pavaleen. "I wouldn't want to imagine what kind of mess we've just stepped into it they were real."
"As for him," Ava says, glancing at Janiven, "I don't think he will be much of a threat anymore. If Enko's right, he won't be able to much without this." She holds up the iron unholy symbol briefly, before turning back towards the unconscious man. "Besides, I've got questions to ask." then, almost as an afterthought: "All of us do."
Ava casts a glance towards the monk. "A message from the past." she says simply. "A tiefling girl. Well, not so much a girl anymore. I've been looking for her for..." she sighs. "...for far too long. She was here, with them."
Janiven leans closer to inspect the unholy symbol, lip curling unconsciously in distaste, "All that trouble from this ugly little thing?" She looks askance at Enko, "You sure he'll be unable to release that... unholy mess, without that pendant thingy?"
"yes, there are questions that needs answers, and we can always cut his throat at the first sign of any mischief. We might also ask him about the treasure guarded by the worm, and how to deal with the worm.".
Amon looks over curiously, seeming a little unsettled at the thought of slicing the mans throat, "What makes you think it's guarding a treasure?"
Enko smiles at Janiven. "I am sure that I am rarely sure of anything. He still poses a threat without it, certainly. What would motivate him to tell the truth?"
Janiven looks over at the unconscious Pavaleen, "Torture perhaps? Ava seemed to scare him with her bluff, from what I overheard... maybe something along that same vein?"
"I believe that torture demeans the torturer," says Enko.
Janiven looks over at Enko, considering, something in her eyes... shame maybe, before she looks away, "I agree. We all do what we must."
W... no. No. We've come what we came to do. We needn't seek out monsters." he says to Sabinus, paling somewhat. "Let the beast starve and let us worry about undoing what wrongs these dogs have caused."
At the mention of torture, Lucon falls dead quiet, busying himself with packing away the stolen treasures into the chest, staring intently at the intricate woodwork.
"We will get him to talk." Ava says darkly. "... One way or another."
She turns her head towards Amon. "How long do you think he'll be out?"
Caladius off-handedly remarks, "If demeaning myself afforded me the ability to save your life, Enko, I would do it. I understand your view though. Can anyone of you with arcane knowledge or a divine gift speak with the dead? If so, we can execute him and still ask our questions."
Amon moves closer and looks him over, looking up at Ava, "I'm thinking we have a solid hour, probably more the way you shook his brain around in his skull, but I'll say an hour to be safe." He looks over to Caladius, "No dead-speaking skills here, at least not yet. Maybe Arael does, or we could employ a skilled cleric?"
"We should find a wagon. Get him and all else back to the temple by nightfall." he says, glancing at his heavy truncheon. "Some of them might wake, is all, and the sooner we're away the sooner we can tip off the dottari."
Amon looks over in confusion, "Who's going to wake up besides Pavalen?" and then a light comes on in his eyes as he remembers, "Oh yes! We left one trussed up in the carpenters home, I forgot. Do you think we need a wagon for two people? Maybe for their equipment I suppose..."
Did I mention I heard it's a BIG treasure the worm is guarding? A BIG treasure could buy a lot of equipment for fighting evil, which I gather is your thing. As for interrogating Pavaleen, if we're going to kill him, what's it matter if we torture him first. I don't see the difference.
"They will bruise, certainly, but many of these thieves will wake." he says, looking to Enko and nudging one of the still-breathing thieves in the hall. "I'd not much like to be caught wandering the streets with two limp bodies and a chest of gold. People might start talking... I think we should take every precaution we can."
"But very well." he says, picking up Pavaleen's morningstar and stowing his sap on his belt. "If some fool lets this monster of yours out into the streets above..." he grimaces, looking about desperately for somebody to talk him out of it. "...ooooooohh, very well. I'll fight, damn you." he says, with a chuckle. "But don't say I said this was a good idea."
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This fiend summons the might of Asmodeus- he's in the favor of the devil lord. He has power, regardless of whether or not he has his focus present. He cannot be trusted, even in torture. He likely has sold his soul already- no amount of mortal discomfort will sway him.
The Viscount will assist with any enhanced interrogation, as long as the more squeamish party members are left innocent.
Spellcraft scroll 1:
Spellcraft scroll 2:
"The Lord of Hell does not suffer fools or failures." Ava says simply. "He has proved himself both today. The strong rule the weak in the God-Fiend's eyes, and we have proved ourselves the stronger." She shakes her head. "He will talk. In death, only suffering will await him. He will bargain for his life."
The talk of treasure catches Ava's ear, and she turns her head in that direction. "It's always beneficial to fill up the Torchbearer coffers. We should organize ourselves before we head back, however. Put everything in one place, with someone to mind them."
The two scrolls are identified, 1 as a Shocking Grasp CL3 and the other (2) as a scroll of Obscuring Mist.
While everyone stands around discussing the best plans, time moves on apace. Janiven says, "Well, lets get this process going, whatever we decide. It seems we need to deal with Pavaleen somehow and then investigate the worm thing in the northwest tunnel/building, right? So which one first?"
"it seems like Pavaleen will be out for awhile, but I think we should bring him with us when we investigate the worm. I wouldn't want him waking up while we're away.".
"We'll be in no state to fight carrying the spoils either." Ava says. "It might be prudent for one or two of us to stand watch over both whilst the others explore some more."
She walks over to Pavaleen, hooking her arms underneath his, lifting him slightly off the ground. "In any case, we'll want to get everything to street level. The tailor's house sound good?"
"S-Split up?" Lucon asks.
"Yes... Okay. I will go. It is an ill-feeling standing among so many bodies... dead or otherwise. It makes me wish I were back in my workshop again." Lucon tightens his vambraces and adjusts his gauntlets. He slings his shield over his shoulder and tests the heft of the long-hafted morningstar in his hands before setting it aside. The armour is well made to his proportions yet still seems as if it doesnt fit. Few would mistake him for a warrior. "This talk of a Council of Thieves makes me nervous. It is hard to believe there are so many in this city who would stop so low..."
"Although the dockmaster and the landlord are just as likely to rob me blind than these Bastards. Perhaps it is not so hard to believe after all..." he says, with a weary laugh turning to Sabinus. "... and I have not introduced my self yet! Poor form for one of the Wiscrani, but I learned my manners in a village to the north." He extends a sheepish hand, one clearly unaccustomed to the bulk of his armour. "I am Lucon Tauranor. Carpenter by trade. I run a workshop by the docks with my nephew and eldest son."
"Oh!" he says, with a grin for Janiven and Ava. "...and agree to a few-too-many favors for old friends, though it used to be I just ran errands and played courier boy. Funny old world, innit'?" he says, picking up one side of a chest and glancing back at the newcomer. "Help me with this, will you?"
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The Viscount fears the evil priest, and would not be opposed to ending him before he returns to consciousness. He doubts that any meaningful information will be gathered from torture, or that Pavaleen will be willing to talk.
He sinks down into a nearby chair, nearly exhausted from his expenditure of magic. The rush of holding a spell, and the inevitable crash after, has left him sweating. He conjures light, and plays with minor cantrips, in order to stave off the inevitable magic hangover temporarily, even though he knows that each spell will only make the crash worse.
"Good to meet you. I'm Sabinus Teros. I'm from Egorian. My family was there before the House of Thrune made it such an unpleasant place to be.". He stoops to help Lucon with the chest, his side drooping a food foot lower than Lucon's, Lucon bearing most if the weight, though not from lack of effort on Sabinus' part.
He also accepts the scroll from the Viscount. "I'm glad to meet another practioner of magic, I came to Westcrown to learn your style of magic, but found I was much more suited to the mysterious art of witchcraft. In fact the coven was the first group of people I ever felt truly comfortable with, so you can see why I'm eager to find out who put Pavaleen up to bringing the Dottari down on us.".
Sabinus delivers these comments quickly, rocking from one foot to another and taking little compulsive peeks in on Tycho, who flew back into the hooded cage hanging at Sabinus' side once the fighting died down.
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The Viscount removes his spectacles and wipes them with an ornate silk handkerchief. He looks keenly at the self professed witch, and sighs.
I would very much like for us to be friends, so I apologize if I come across as rude or prying. My family tree is a long line of wizards, and I know our dark past involves consorting with devils and other otherworldly beings. Dealing with such creatures gives us glimpse of the power and danger associated with dealing in the dark. However, our power is earned through hard work and study. Half of my life was spent buried amid texts of the arcane to earn my place.
He pauses, and swallows. So, my new friend, I have a personal question- one that you may not wish to answer, yet our friendship and perhaps the nature of your role with the Torchbearers hinges upon. Your magic comes from a patron, yes? Some otherworldly creature grants you it's boon. In return, they ask what? Do you know with which power you are bargaining with?
"I'm not ashamed of my gift and I owe a debt to no being!", Sabinus stammers, somewhat defensively. Looking at the ceiling and shaking, he continues, "As I see it, magic is like a river coursing around us always. Wizards learn the arcane formulae that allow them to access that flow and produce their desired magical effects. Witches learn to manipulate and direct that flow by communing with the flow itself. I admit that it is likely there are supernatural beings or powers of some sort that have seen fit to give me access to the flow, but that does not make me their servant and their unknown nature does not make them evil. I should hope that you do not brand as evil everything you cannot understand from books.". After delivering this pent up defense of witchcraft, Sabinus slumps against a wall, closes his eyes, and presses the palm of his right hand to his forehead.
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The Viscount puts his hand on the slumped warlock's shoulder. Not all creatures that walk in the dark are evil, and not all those who bask in the sun are good. I speak only out of precaution. If you know not your patron, they could equally be devil or angel or something in between. For your sake, I hope they are closer to angel - I have seen too many kin bargain souls for an inkling of power. I have watched as that power was revoked when they most needed it, because they didn't live up to their deal. Promise me this- if your patron demands more from you than you can give, or that you commit actions that will cost you your life or soul, that you'll let us help you break from them. If need be, I will help you retrain in the Art the proper way. He offers his hand.
Enko listens to Sabinus' words with interest. "I have no real knowledge of magic, and what I do know is more of the blessings of the gods, but I have been raised to understand that the flow, which goes by many names and comes in any guises, is the force that directs us all and that we can divert, if we do so in a reasonable manner.".
He looks at the slumped Pavaleen. "Diverting it in an unreasonable manner inevitably leads to consequences, and collapse."
"So we are taught in the Upper Reach. Of course, I welcome new teachings." he lowers his head respectfully to the magic users.
Sabinus looks up and physically bristles a bit at what he perceives a bit to be condescension. Standing straight, he says, Viscount, my ways of magic are different, but not lesser to your own. And you misunderstand our ways if you think I have had a strike any bargain to gain my power. I cannot say why my kind has been permitted to manipulate the flow as we do, without the formalities of the wizardly methods, but it is not evil and, Enko, it is not an unreasonable diversion of the flow. I am sure there are witches who make bargains with evil entities to gain more or certain kinds of power, just as there are wizards who do. But I have made no such bargain and I assure you that I have no intention to do so. And I can also assure you that I will let you know if I am contacted by any evil entity, just as I would expect you would let us know the same. I do hope these assurances are sufficient, because I do think we have similar aims and can work well together.
"I did not mean to imply that your magics were unreasonable. Pavaleen's actions on the other hand, may have been, and he will pay the price regardless."
"No offense taken. From either of you. The art of witchcraft is often misunderstood, and I'm well aware that my behavioral ... Idiosyncracies ... make me less than an ideal ambassador for the craft. But despite my youth and presentation, I am in full control of my powers and faculties, even though aspects of the art remain unavoidably mysterious."
Oblivious to the philosophical discussion of his companions, Lucon sets himself to the task of carrying all of the heavy contraband up the flight of stairs to the tailor's shop. His strong back and years in a sawmill making him more than capable of the task. He smiles quietly to himself, whistling as he works, stopping only to offer instructions or to cast worried glances down the hall where the caged worm waits.
Ava follows Lucon's lead and begins to drag Pavaleen away. She has some trouble with the stairs, but manages to get him all the way to the top before unceremoniously dumping him back on the ground.
"Lucon..." She says suddenly, looking over at the carpenter. "Could we talk a moment?"
Lucon glances around and shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck gingerly, he nestles into a chair. "What is on your mind, my old friend?"
"That fight was something." Ava says, looking over to Lucon as she brushes herself off. "Over a dozen men and we took them like nothing. It made me realize something." she lets out a small breath. "The thrill of victory. The combat high, the weight of steel in my hand. It's... something else. There's battle in my blood, and it's time I stopped fighting it."
Ava looks down at her hand, opening and closing it slowly. "But we're not soldiers... or knights, or rangers from the north. I've never walked the warrior's path, Lucon." she looks up at him, a sense of determination about her. "But it's one I'd be willing to, for the sake of Westcrown. I was hoping you would walk it with me."
There's a small pause, as she looks him in the eye, a slight smile on her face. "So what do you say to a little training when this is over? Hone our skills side-by-side? You've a strong enough arm; with a little polish I think you'd make a fine swordsman."
Working together, you move the bodies, gear, and loot up to the long abandoned Tailors shop -there is a lot of it. Pavaleen, and the others survivors are trussed and brought up as well (you find about 4 still alive and breathing, all of the tougher 'rogue variety' as opposed to thugs). Pavaleen is placed in a chair next to the lone table and face is covered in a threadbare old sack over his head, the fabric scratchy and uncomfortable, thin enough to let in some light, but thick enough to obscure the tiefling leaders vision. Amon and Janiven volunteer to guard the prisoners, after doing some rough calculations and intense remembering, you all are fairly confident those still alive have all used their darkness spell ability at least once that day.
Looking out from the Tailors house, you can see the NW building a little better. This single story building is unusual for the miniature chairs hanging above the doorway from large hooks; odds are good this was a carpenter’s shop, probably one specializing in chairs. The windows and door are boarded up, but the boards are of quality wood and cut very evenly. You can see a largish hole in the roof, just like the late Shilcer mentioned there would be, easily big enough for someone to climb through. Although it's not high, the climb to the gently pitched roof would not be easy, the boards of this building fitting together tightly and evenly, another sign of the skills of it's former -and probably dead- owner.
"That carpenter's shop is the building with the worm in it. I'm guessing it would be best to have a look in from above. I can levitate myself up, but if there is a good climber in the group it would be best for someone else to be along, especially if there's a lock up at the top. If the treasure is magical, I might be able to spot it from above. Come to think of it, if we spot the treasure and someone is able to distract the worm from below, or even better lure it out, it may be possible for me to levitate myself in and out with the treasure. It will depend what the situation looks like. But I can only levitate for a few minutes, so it might be good to think things through a bit first."
"I know little about these worms, Sabinus, but we'd probably only distract it for a moment as it swallows us," says Enko with a wry face. "Can you not put it to sleep? It should be easy to subdue after that."