Devargo sits motionless for a moment, then gives the slightest of shrugs. In a dry, low voice, he says, "Fine. You fail to understand how profitable this arrangement has been for me, but perhaps it's coming to an end. Eleven-hundred gold for the ambassador." He flicks a finger towards one of the toadies at a table, and the man stands and walks forward to collect it from where you're standing before the throne.
As the man waits for you to hand over the gold, Devargo adds to the rest of those whose meal was interrupted (not the party), "You may leave." The remaining five men and women get up and begin making for the exit.
Quinlan waits for the flunkies to leave the room, a little relieved if truth be told. Now for the business of getting the information we need to find the cultists and Ilsa's niece. I hope when we do that we don't lose her like we did Gregor.
Bashiel holds a hand up, saying "To ensure the fairness of the transaction, we'll pass over half the gold, after which you can tell us everything you know about the ambassador. Once we're satisfied, your associate here will get the other half." He indicates the man waiting for the gold.
"This should be fine, right? Just standard procedure."
If he indicates its OK, Bashiel will hand over 550 gp.
Devargo looks utterly indifferent to the suggestion and one would be justified to think he hadn't heard until, after several seconds, he lifts a finger in the suggestion of a shrug and says, "Fine. Pay up and my man will fetch the letters."
Assuming the party does so, the last remaining man collects the gold then moves through a door on the right (west) side of the cabin, and you hear him a descend a set of stairs.
"He will be a few moments. You propose two deals that would deny me money. I've accepted your first. Your second could also deny me my life. Cultists may be bad for business. They're worse for your health. At least these are. Tell me why I don't kill you now and spare everyone the trouble later."
Bashiel prickles at the threat. He eyes the spiders around the room as if they'll carry it out if the party missteps.
His attention snaps back to Devargo. He swallows, thinking. Its almost as if he barely cares about the ambassador. The cultists have him far more on edge. Is this a deal he's regretting, or something deeper? How safe will it be to prod?
He hesitates, paralyzed by the potential to doom the group he'd only recently gotten to know. As someone else in the group raises their voice, he focuses on Devargo's speech and body language. He attempts to judge just how afraid the man is of the cultists and how desperate he might be.
Varor decides now is the time to step forward, "Of course we are all law abiding individuals and all of us want to see the cities betterment so surely there is no real reason to withhold information from us. Because then you'll be creating more problems for yourself. I'm a member of the cities temple to Sarenrae, and I didn't pool in my gold with everyone else here for this information trade. So not only will you be dealing with whoever gave us this gold, you're also be dealing with a temple who will want to know what happened to one of their priests. They will be especially interested when they figure out that I disappeared when trying to learn about a group of cultists."
He then gives Devargo a very pleasant smile. "But you are very clearly a legitimate businessman and a very successful entrepreneur of the city, So I'm sure that we can all agree to pretend that you didn't ask us why you shouldn't have us all murdered," He says in a very clear and smooth voice that would be calming and pleasant in any other context.
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Ilsa feels they are so close, but up against a wall. Any misstep here could take them away from the trail, and perhaps cost them their lives.
Ilsa looks at Devargo and tries to hide her contempt. She can see the spiders crawling all over him. His mouth gapes open and spiders swarm out.
Am I the only one seeing this nightmare?
She feels like she could drown in the darkness of his soul.
"Please..." is all she can manage.
At the death threat, Kalem subtly shifted his weight, making it easier to reach for his hammer. For anyone watching their body language, it was a pretty clear sign that attacking them wouldn't be in anyone's interest.
"Look, you tell us where to find these cultists, we either die anyway, or we break their power... either way there's little risk to you, because we will either be dead and they'll never learn how we found them, or they'll be dead or neutralized and it won't matter anyway. So why the threats against us? We're not asking for you to get involved, just pass on a little info in private, no one here but us now, so no chance of indiscretion."
Devargo eyes Varor and his lips twitch as the elf speaks; whether it's a grin or a sneer is hard to say. Perhaps a half-dozen spiders of consequential size move about the room, including a particularly large one that seems to be resting behind the throne.
In his low, almost sibilant voice, Devargo replies, "Yes, redemption and light. You may not have noticed in your cloistered spaces, priest, but people disappear in Korvosa. All. The. Time. You'd hardly be the first. And I could easily have a dozen people all testifying to the guard they watched you walk out of here, or fall of the side drunk, or take too much shiver." He pauses, then waves his left hand dismissively and.... chuckles.
"But you misunderstand me. I wasn't threatening to kill you. I was asking what is in this arrangement you propose for me, one that will undoubtedly cause me trouble if I give you the information you want. And that's a question you still haven't answered for me."
The leather of his armor creaks slightly as he leans forward on his throne, the light catching the details of his face a little better. Were it not for the blackness in his soul -- and the spiders crawling over his body -- you can see how he might have been handsome and charming in another life.
His gaze drifts to Ilsa. "I understand it is important to you. Forgive my bluntness, but I don't care. Bad things happen in Korvosa all the time. I don't care to cry over every lost soul. But you're coming to me, asking for my help. And I'm willing to help... when it's in my interest. At the moment, I don't see how it is in my interest to help you."
When Quin adds his own thoughts, Devargo lifts a brow. His eyes drift towards the man even while his head remains in place. It's an expression of curiosity. "Hmm. I see. You labor under a delusion. That if you are killed, the cultists won't suspect who told you where to find them. Or that I even know where they are."
He taps his left index finger on the arm of his throne as he considers the situation. He looks at Ilsa once more, then Varor. A thought occurs to him.
"Alright... Why don't the two of you, the priest of light and the one who has lost her niece, tell me how much this matters to you. What are you willing to offer for this information that could cost me much?"
Varor doesn't lose his smile as he considers his words to Devargo before saying, "Devargo I can assure you that this is a personal matter for both of us, just for different reasons, so we will be continuing our hunt for these cultists without whatever help you could give us. But the fact that you didn't give us an opening price like you did for the information on the ambassador tells me that the question isn't what can we offer, the question is what do you want?"
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Ilsa bristles as this lord of the spiders barters for her niece. All her instincts tell her to back down, to avoid the confrontation.
But something beyond her control, something deep within her psyche refuses to yield...refuses to do what is sensible.
"You want to know what she means to me?" Ilsa asks with clear irritation, feeling she had exhausted the diplomatic options with little to show for it.
"What does she mean to me?!" she says again, stronger and with ice in her voice. She hardly seems herself, and at her sides, her clenched fists contort. Abruptly they are tipped with long claws, and the fingers and hands stippled with decay and rotting flesh.
"She means EVERYTHING to me, you vile excuse for humanity! I will not barter for my niece. I do not speak for these with me, but I will not leave here without the information you withhold! I suggest you give me what I want...NOW!"
Ilsa's bizarre display ends with her hands returning to normal. She shudders as comes to herself, clearly not having intended to say what she said. Suddenly, she is an exhausted shop girl again, quivering slightly and in well over her head. But with...something...hiding deep inside, strong and full of dark menace.
Varor backs away from Ilsa during her emotional outburst.
This isn't normal, no matter how frustrated she is this isn't normal. Flipping between emotions, seeing things that aren't there, strange powers that you can't explain, this is certainly abnormal.
Devargo's brows arch at the outburst and the smile slips from his face just as his lackey is coming back up the stairs. "Well. That escalated quickly..."
He looks at the lackey, "You got the letters?" The man nods. "Good."
He looks back at Ilsa with a thin smile. "Not many have the brass bangers to come in here and threaten me. To see them on a waif like you -- I can respect that. But as I said, I don't see how that helps me."
His right hand, which has never wavered, slips half an inch as a finger presses a knob on his throne and the floor opens up beneath you.
Bashiel and Varor both tumble below in a dark chamber riddled with dizzying tunnels and twisting corridors formed by thick cobwebs. The floor is a sticky, lumpy mass of webbing and dozens, if not hundreds, of bones—many of which appear to be from humanoid bodies. Some of the webs seem to shimmer and dance, almost as if reflecting
rainbows in their silken forms.
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The world exploded into violence. Already prepared for combat, Kalem leaps off of the trap on the floor at Devargo. He did so, not to avoid the trap, but more out of instinct when he felt the threat in the man's voice. If not for the carefully honed paranoia, he might well have fallen into the hole along with Bashiel and Varor. As he moved, his hammer easily slid into his hands. His eyes blazing with the light and his hammer training flames, he swung with all of his might at the crime lord.
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Ilsa leaps just at the last minute, her time spent toiling in manual labor keeping her quick and lithe.
For just one more moment, she's the scared young woman. But then, everything changes.
"Wrong choice!" she yells from a crouch. Her eyes begin to glow eerily, and the ghoulish claws extend once again. Necromatic energy emanates from her hands, holding rotten flesh together.
With speed belying her experience in combat, she steps forward to flank with Kalem.
"Do you want a glimpse into my nightmares?!" she says darkly. "Let me show you!"
She rakes the man with each of the filthy claws, drawing long trails of blood in their wake.
Bashiel raises a hand, about to argue with Devargo that selling out the cultists would help him after all, when suddenly he finds everything going wrong. Before he realizes that negotiations have collapsed, the floor has given way and he tumbles down into the darkness.
~There you have it boy, naivete loses once again.~ His grandfather's voice calls out sardonically in his mind as Bashiel lands on the floor below. For his part, Bashiel is too stunned by the turn of events to even register the comment.
Looking back the way he came, Bashiel gathers his breath and calls out "You've underestimated the wrong group Devargo!" as Ilsa and Kalem lay into him. "And protected the wrong people. Yield now and live."
~You tell him, boy. I'm sure he'll see the light now. HEH!~ Bashiel grits his teeth and sends a mental 'Not now' to his grandfather's voice, along with a 'Bit of help would be nice if you're going to talk grandfather!'.
Quinlan leaps back from the edge of the pit and draws his rapier... AFter the initial reaction to the trap being sprung, he downs an extract of shield. Dammit, I really should have paid more attention to Vinnie's attempts to teach me swordplay... If I die here, he's never gonna forgive me.
How far did we fall/how far above is the trap door? If its open, how much light is down here and can Bashiel see Varor? Did we land on our feet or prone? Can Bashiel see Devargo from his position? Is the bone floor difficult terrain? Can Bashiel see any of the creatures currently shown on the bottom floor on the map, and if so what do they look like?
Bashiel's request is followed by a burst of advice, unintelligible as every voice tries to get themselves heard at once. Old Man Samir's mental voice cuts through the rest. ~Head screwed on right and ready to fight then? Good!~ His voice turns far softer and more encouraging. ~Like you practiced, one and two and...~
Bashiel draws his bardiche in a single smooth motion, his hand guided by hundreds of years of practice. It arcs through the air towards the most grotesque of the creatures down here.
He twirls the polearm to rid it of mystery creature blood and to shed some iridescent webs. He steps back towards Varor and holds his bardiche at the ready.
He keeps an eye on the other spidery shapes in the room, as well as Devargo up above.
In the web-choked room on the lower deck, Bashiel and Varor are confronted not only with a variety of spiders but also a hideous purple creature. It walks upright like a man, but its face is that of a spider, and its hands are sickle-shaped claws.
"Ilsa, I hope you understand that I can't keep Devargo alive from down here," Varor says drawing his scimitar and keeping it level in front of him.
Giving Bashiel a smirk Varor says, "Well buddy, I hope you're happy now that you can keep your conscious clean of the fact that you had to pay a criminal the city's taxpayers gold."
Kalem: Attack and miss
Ilsa: Attack and hit, 17 damage
Quin: Consume Extract
Bashiel: Attack and hit, 31 damage
Varor: Total Defense
Kalem come in swinging his warhammer for a mighty strike but with uncanny timing, Devargo avoids what would have been a devastating strike. He fares less against Ilsa's claws, while in the hold the creature with the spider-like face screams in pain at Bashiel's attack. It falls before it do anything. As it does, something strange happens in both areas. It's almost as if the spiders are confused.
In the throne room, Devargo's thug takes a 5' step south while drawing a longsword. He thrusts at Ilsa but the blow goes wide, while Devargo takes advantage of the moment and attacks her as well. Both of his strikes go wild, however and he takes a 5' step to the southeast.
The spiders then leap to the attack yet their fangs seem to be made of paper mache, unable to pierce even the thinnest of fabrics. Bashiel's attack of opportunity is thwarted by the shadows.
Quinlan tries to identify the creature trying to attack him...
+1 planes, +2 religion
Quinlan throws an alchemist fire at deVargo.... KNowing his own nature, he's pretty sure Kalem will take no splash damage from it.
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@Ilsa: THAT WAS COOL! And yeah, there is no way I can blame you for that response. Ilsa has the most to lose with this guy toying around with us. BTW, The last time I posted I was trying to work out whether Bashiel would be willing to just smite the guy and take him out. Turns out I don't have to think about it tonight lol.
Ilsa dodges blow after blow; whatever has come over her lends her speed and agility. Still, she can see she's surrounded. She backs herself into the corner to deal with the lackey first. She swipes at it twice with her gruesome claws.
Still, she keeps her gaze on Devargo, her creepy stare causing him pain.
He moves around carefully to take a swing at the spider...
...and manages to scratch it, making it angrier than anything else if it's screech is anything to go on.
His eyes blazing even brighter with anger, Kalem throws caution to the wind and lunges at Devargo. Leaving himself open to the thug and spider, he trusted in his Infernal cursed hide to keep him safe from harm. His hammer still burning, and now so was he, as Quinlan's alchemist fire lit up the room. It burned, but not hot enough to cause him any real harm.
Weathering the danger (hopefully) from comrade and foe alike, he swung with all of his might once more. It was hard to keep going with the same momentum as his first blow, but he wasn't going to let the man escape. Or worse yet, hurt one of his comrades because he had failed to take the man down on his first blow.
"We've got this Varor. As soon as we've got some breathing room, I've got a grappling hook to get us back upstairs."
Not wanting to move too far and risk getting caught in the webs, Bashiel holds his ground. He drops his bardiche, draws his longsword, and swings at the same spider that Varor attacked.
After the miss, Bashiel hears Samir's voice in his mind ~MIND YERSELF! THEY MAY BE 'ITTLE BUGGERS, BUT THEY PROB'LY PACK A MEAN VENOM!~ He sends back a mental 'I know! I'm trying to kill them. Please let me concentrate grandfather!'
Quin: Knowledge (no success); Alchemist's Fire - Hit
Ilsa: Attack Enforcer - Both miss
Varor: Attack large spider - Hit
Kalem: Attack Devargo - Hit
Bashiel: Attack <doesn't matter> -- it's a miss
Quin lobs a vial of alchemists fire at Devargo, hitting the man and setting the throne room alight. Kalem follows with another swing of his hammer, and Devargo crumples to the ground, gasping. "No... no... You fools..."
Elsewhere, Ilsa tries to take down Devargo's enforcer but fails to connect, the man's survival instincts kicking into overdrive as he parries her blows with an adrenaline-fueled intensity.
In the hold, Bashiel and Varor begin to deal with the spiders.
The spiders continue to attack whatever creature is nearest. Many of them are unable to penetrate your defenses, but a giant spider lands a strike against Kalem. Yet it's fangs do not penetrate deeply and the tiefling's damage reduction negates the bite entirely. In the hold, Bashiel is not as fortunate. One of the tiny spiders finds a gap in his armor, sinking its fangs deeply.
The enforcer takes a careful step back towards the stairs (and the door) before swinging his longsword at Quinlan as he screams, "Help! They've killed the king! Help!" The heroes' luck holds and his attack misses.
plus Fort DC 14 or STR dmg
plus Fort DC 11 or Wis damage
Devargo: -17 - 6 - 19 = Unconscious/dying
Giant Spider, Downstairs: -3
Dream Spider next to Kalem: -1
"You fool! If you'd kept your mouth shut, you could have taken his place and run this show, but no, you had to shout for reinforcements... Idiot with no vision!"
Quinlan hefts another alchemist fire ... but doesn't throw it yet... "Stop where you are or you will burn like your dead king... now shut your mouth like a good lad and come, let's talk about your future."
Then he throws the alchemist fire at the spider attacking him...
Bashiel shakes the little spider loose.
With how dedicated his men seemed before, I think we might have half a dozen fanatics trying to save their king here before long. Varor and I need to get back quick.
Bashiel swings his longsword back at the small spider to his east, trying to finish it before he suffers too many more bites. For a fraction of a second he thinks he sees Ilsa behind the spider, but the mirage passes before he can ask her why she came down.
Cursing loudly Kalem claimed his hammer at the spider, throwing it off of him. "G'off!"
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The dark version of Ilsa with the glowing eyes and ghoulish claws skulks in the corner of the ship. She sneers in satisfaction as Devargo falls.
"I told you it was the wrong choice!"
She turns her dreadful gaze on the kingpin's lackey. From the corner, she leaps toward him, but not before a second image of Ilsa appears from thin air on the other side of him, creating a distraction. She rips into him from behind with her claws.
When Pel informed the Academae's headmaster, Toff Ornelos, of his departure, furrowed his brow in one of those gesture's Pel had always taken for judgmental disappointment. "If you feel that is the proper path for you, then of course, you should follow it." Because you clearly don't belong here, seemed to be the subtext. "You should know, however, once you leave, there is no coming back. At least, not until this unpleasantness has passed. The doors shall remain barred to you just as they will to anyone else." There being little else to be said, the Ornelos accepted your resignation and you were seen to the Acadamae's gates.
On Zandu's suggestion, you arrived at Citadel Volshyenek on the third day after the rioting. While much of the city is in chaos, particularly the poorer sections, this part of the city, in the shadow of the Guard, seems relatively quiet. "Peaceful" would be inaccurate, as the tension is palpable and there are still signs of rioting the night the king died -- burned out shops and even a few stray bodies.
The sergeant in charge of the watch at the gate questions you as to your purpose and, after hearing your willingness to help, she replies, "Uh huh. 'Help'. I'm sure in exchange for a sum of coin. Couldn't lower yourself to a lowly guardsman's status or pay, could you?" One of the guards, however, chimes in, "Aw, come on, Sarge. That one group has been doing pretty well, and with the Queen's blessing, no less." The sergeant snarls in response, "Yeah, and taking some of my best guards, too, she is, for her Gray Maidens! Bah!" She spits on the ground. "Fine, go on in. Make yer way to the keep, ask for the marshal's aide-de-camp. And you... she gestures at the guard who spoke up, "you can escort him to make sure he doesn't wander."
The guardsman begins to escort you in. The exhaustion of the last few days are evident on his face just as it is on most of those at the Citadel. Nonetheless, he seems to be in good spirits. "So,
tell me, what are you seeing and hearing elsewhere in the city?
What about High Bridge? Have you heard of things there? We don't get much news here, an' we've been working so hard. If we're not sleeping or on the walls, we're trying to keep order. My family's in High Bridge and I'm worried somethin' fierce."
Your father, Garrick, was not particularly well liked back at the guild, referred to as a 'hanging judge' without an ounce of mercy, as well as a hypocrite. When you asked what the truth of the latter charge was, however, none would tell you, seemingly on order of the guildmaster, who you suspected had taken something of a fancy towards you.
Your mother, Marissa, took to her duties as the wife of an arbiter and mother to her children with dogged determination. She's never complained but nor has she ever expressed much joy.
For some reason, you've decided to check on them. As their home in Five Corners is the one you grew up in, you don't feel much need to knock except that when you arrive the door is locked and barred.
Knocking and announcing your arrival brings the family's lone retainer, an older though still handsome half-elf named Otto, to the door. He peers through a hatch in the door and sees you, "Ah, young miss! Come in, come in. Just a moment." He closes the hatch, lifts the bar, unlocks the door, and opens it to bring you inside.
The house is as it always has been. Warm from the fires in the hearths, if a bit stifling. Air that would be stale if not for Otto's efforts to bring incense and fresh herbs and flowers. The furniture fashionable if too firm and uncomfortable.
Smiling from ear to ear (truly, he's only ever been the sole source of warmth in this house), he hugs you like an uncle and brings you in, "Ah, Lady Zamanda, your parents will be so happy to see you. They're in the sitting room, just finished dinner and have had a glass of wine."
Varor is fighting off the big angry spider when he hears the scream of Devargo fall, "What did I say! What did I just say!?" He yells in frustration.
He a rotten one who deserves whatever fate he gets in the afterlife just like the rest of us. But there's no guarantee that what he knows about the cultists is anything physical, meaning if he dies he takes it with him. And just because he's a parasitic thief doesn't mean he can't be saved.
"Damn it!" Varor curses, grabbing his holy symbol and channels a burst of healing energy.
Zamanda grins back after the hug, Oh, Otto, what would I do without you? The words are said light-heartedly, but there is sincerity there that they both recognize.
Do you mind getting me a plate if there are any leftovers? I'm starving.
She walks into the sitting room, greets her parents, and, unless something else happens, she sits in her traditional spot, cross-legged, and starts telling them about her day/week, depending on how long it has been. (In the past some of these talks have contained fabrications, but since leaving the guild they have been almost all true, which Zamanda believes means that she is getting closer to being a truly good person, because it feels good that she doesn't have to hide what she is doing.) She tells them of some of the friends that she has met, the gigs that she has gotten at local inns or events to sing, and she offers to sing them her latest composition. After her life update has wound down, and possibly singing them her latest, she waits for them to speak.
It is traditional for them to tell her of their social forays... went to this or that party, met with this or that family, etc.
If they say nothing of the barred door, she asks about it, but not until after tradition has run its course. This is not for her sake, but because they like their structure.
If Otto is able to scrounge her up something to eat, she will eat it while listening to their social adventures. She definitely is listening though, and can feed it all back to them if needed. She doesn't actually *care* about politics and social things, but she has learned to memorize and be aware of those things for their sake. Truthfully, she might do well in politics and social circles. Her family has trained her well. She just doesn't find any joy in it. To Zamanda, it's a game which some people take too seriously.