Just some poor crazed fool? Segang asks. Is any of his gear magic? The barbarian approaches a little closer to see if the man is armed or armored. I fear he might be a carrier of the disease.
"With the mask off, I recognize his condition clearly. He has survived Blood Veil, but he is not currently suffering or contagious. I guess we should move on. Should I return his mask to him?"
I am still not sure he is harmless. Do you think there is any chance he can do as he claims? With some assurance that he is not contagious Segang gets closer. Does he carry magic gear?
"Poor fellow, he's mad," says Melianthe. She drops a few coppers on his person, and scribbles a quick note, tucking both under him carefully.
"Thank you, Rook, for your kind services. -Citizens"
Unless someone else gives another direction, Jarha will follow Melianthe's lead and telekinetically return Rook's mask to his face.
"That won't do him any good in this state of anarchy, little sister," Blacljack says as she moves forward. Digging into her pack, she brings out three days' worth of rations and puts them between Rook's hands. "Come. We have to keep moving."
With some coins and food, you leave behind the snoozing Rook and continue on into the twisting and cramped streets of the Narrows. Guided by Absinthe's familiarity with the neighborhood, you soon reach the leaning tenements rumored to be the home of Salvator Scream. His place is a small building, little more than a shack, set between a multi-story shanty, an abandoned market yard, and a decaying dock that recessed from the river waters a decade past, leaving behind a muddy beach strewn with refuse. A main door lies just off the street while a walkway of moldy planks leads to a rear entrance adjacent to the dock. The few small windows are nearly blackened with years of soot and grime, but you can see a sliver of light coming from a back room.
Jarha speaks quietly: "If you want I can invisibly keep watch on the front door and for anyone approaching while others go in the back. At least until we've made contact, in case he tries to run out the front..." He trails off, a bit uncomfortable in the role of talking strategy.
Melianthe rolls her eyes at 'Blackjack', then remembers that the office of Blackjack could be as old as she. Or is it? She can't recall too well. "Little sister," she huffs. She draws Amin aside as they near Salvator's house. "Stay out of sight. We don't want you getting hurt if something happens. Don't try to be a hero."
She glances at the others. "Any other plans? Just rush in? I can drop Haze or a stinking cloud on them, and Seren has his bag of tricks as well."
"We don't know that Salvator is hostile, right? All we know is he had some business with Vencarlo and may have been one of the last people to see Vencarlo. And, yes, they argued once. We should be prepared, of course, but he may be an ally."
I say just the opposite Jarha. Some watch the back door and we go in through the front, knocking so the maybe our quarry will flee out the back. Thoughts?
"Once round the building," Blackjack says, velvet voice almost .... serene. "I don't know about you boys, but one ambush a day is my personal limit. Make sure there's no one lurking in the surrounding buildings, then determine which door we go by."
"Whatever you all decide is fine with me. Blackjack could go one way and I could go the other invisibly."
A search of the surrounding area finds it fairly well deserted. Amin nods to Melianthe's suggestion, finding a shadowy corner near the back door to hide and watch. Jarha turns invisible and stands nearby.
When all are in position, Segang knocks on the front door. There is a pause and then a lilting female voice responds. "Umm, come in if you want! Its not locked."
With less caution than is likely called or Segang opens the door saying We seek Salvator Scream. Is he hear?
Seren sniffs and pulls out a wand of magic missile as he slinks off to the side.
You make your way inside (Segang boldly and others quietly), you find the entryway stinks of must and mildew, much of it coming from the mud tracked over the floorboards, as if a small army had marched through the room. To the south stands a single empty set of shelves.
A short corridor runs south to where the light is coming from. To the side, an open door reveals a bedroom with a single bed, the blankets and pillows atop it scattered and in disarray. More muddy boot prints mar the wooden floor here and a splash of dried blood decorates one pillow.
The lighted room is a painter's studio. Both of this room’s windows are tightly shuttered, yet the air inside seems strangely fresh and scented, no doubt because of the six large candles that burn within. Each candle has been affixed by a glob of melted wax to the crown of a gleaming, polished skull, and each of these impromptu and grisly candleholders has been placed atop an otherwise clear desk to the west, arrayed in a gentle arc. A chair sits before the desk, and a careful stack of papers and scrolls sits inside the arc of skulls. To the south stands a nearly empty cabinet, its shelves barren save for a few paintbrushes and a cracked pottery urn.
Seated in the chair facing the skulls is an elven woman. Her black hair is long and wind-tossed, and the large irises of her eyes are nearly black. She is dressed in fitted, enameled chainmail, adorned with thorn-like spikes. Coiled at her belt is a spiked chain.
As Segang enters, she looks up and greets him with a wide smile. "Welcome! I'm seeking Salvator also, but sadly he's not here. I think the Emperor's men nabbed him a week or more ago. At least that's my guess, based on the muddy tracks. I hope they haven't killed him, that would be vexing... but pretty much in line with how my research has been going so far," she sighs, eyeing the skull candles with a frown.
The smile returns immediately as she extends a hand. "Oh, and my name's Laori..."
"Laori, well met, edhel," says Melianthe, glancing at the scene, but not offering a hand yet. "I am Melianthe. There's blood on the floor, so he or someone else was injured at least when they were taken away. And what is your research? May we look about?"
Jarha follows the group down the hallway, closing the door behind him, but he stays invisible for the moment while the others interact with Laori.
Greeting Laori. I am Segang. It seems we seek the same person then. Perhaps we could work together if you mean him no harm. It is important that we get to question him. And we have heard of this emperor. Why do you think he would come here and pick up Salvator? Is he an art lover?
Laori's eyes widen as Melianthe enters, and her smile widens. "A pleasure to meet you, Melianthe. I'm intrigued to know what brings a dusk elf to these lands!"
"Feel free to look around. It's not my place, so you don't need my permission," she jokes. "I saw the blood. Clearly a scuffle as Salvator was taken. Someone was hurt in the fray," her smile twitches at the mention, "but I couldn't say if it was captive or captor."
Melianthe Detects Magic over the area, including the candles. "Laori, these candles, are they yours?"
"...and it is a long story. I lived in the Churlwood and wound up here, not in the best circumstances, I'm afraid, but these days I am a doctor of Korvosa."
Blackjack enters the room, one hand on the hilt of her rapier, the other coming to rest on Melianthe's shoulder. The vigilante's dark eyes seek Laori's.
"How does it come to pass that you were seeking Salvator Scream?" she asks, calmly.
I am quite large to be ignored Laori. I recommend you answer my questions. You might not like me when I am mad.
I am quite large to be ignored Laori. I recommend you answer my questions. You might not like me when I am mad.
-Posted with Wayfinder
"The candles, yes... the skulls, not so much," Laori winks at Melianthe. She points and names them, from left to right, "This is Jeonia Chirco, a costumer; next is Boathar Kaay, once a toymaker; this is Velaka Hoon, a fairly unknown, but very underrated author; Maxtel Erns here was a sculptor in life; fifth over is Yvos Tanguany, a tattooist; and lastly, Imon Vernell was a poet."
"Each were artists whose work touched heavily upon themes important to Zon-Kuthon. These six lived here in Korvosa, and I came to the city to speak with them, but sadly they were all dead... lives taken by their own hands. Salvator Scream is a seventh artist of similar workings, and as far as I know, he yet lives. I'd very much like to speak with him before that changes."
"Calm yourself, Segang, " she looks up at Segang, giggling at his half-threat. "I have no intention of hurting Salvator! Well, unless he asks for it, but you know... nothing non-consensual. He’s a talented artist! I would just like to ask him where his inspiration comes from."
"I don't know much about this Emperor of Old Korvosa, other than he's got a veritable army of thugs under his command, and his compound is guarded like a Hellknight citadel. I was pondering a way to approach the Emperor when you showed up."
The barbarian looks at the elven woman suspiciously but then nods. I do not know much of this Zon-Kuthon. Tell me me of him.
Seren eyes the chain askance and asks, "You are a Kuthite? From ... uh, Nidal?"
-Posted with Wayfinder
Jarha doesn't know anything about Zon-Kuthon. He continues to listen invisibly, a little confused by Laori's macabre interests.
"I came to Korvosa from Nidal, so yes, but I'm not really from there, if you know what I mean," Laori responds to Seren with a smile. "Riddleport, actually."
To Segang, she adds, tilting her head to the side, "You've never heard of Zon-Kuthon? Well, I guess he's not very popular in some lands -- people generally being averse to pain and all that -- but he is one of the major deities. Some call him The Midnight Lord, or Prince of Pain... or my favorite: 'The Dark Prince'!" The elf cannot suppress a giggle. "Oooh! So melodramatic," she sighs, rolling her eyes.
Laori does a double-take at Absinthe, standing behind Melianthe. "Are you... Blackjack?"
"Are you a Kuthite?" Blackjack asks in return.
"Of course!" Laori laughs. "I thought the spikes and chain would have made that obvious."
"I am Blackjack," Blackjack replies in velvet tones. "I thought my own accessories would make that obvious. Yours could merely be the result of an atrociously poor sense of fashion, my dear. And now. What is your business with Salvator Scream? I would like more detail than curiosity into the nature of his Muse."
Midnight Lord? Prince of Pain? Dark Prince? Hmm. Well I am proficient at delivering pain. Perhaps I should know more. he says, intrigued but also trying to get the strange and talkative woman to say more. So, 6 of 7 artists whose work touched heavily upon themes important to Zon-Kuthon are dead. And so Salvator is your last chance to speak with someone so inspired. I believe we should be able to work together if we have your word that you will not hurt Salvator and further to work to protect him if he needs protecting.
"I would prefer more information before committing myself to working with a Kuthite," Blackjack says, voice calm.
"...I heard there were dusk elves in the Uskwood of Nidal..." says Melianthe, more of a question than a statement. "What are Kuthites?"
"The followers of Zon-Kuthon," Blackjack replies. "The god of darkness. And pain. His followers excel in torture .... which to them, is transcendence."
Jarha steps back, becomes visible, and then steps forward again, so it appears he was just coming from further down the hallway.
"The infliction of pain and torture... these do not sound like actions aligned with the cause of righteousness. There is already too much suffering in the world. Like Blackjack, I would like to know more about why you seek Salvator Scream before we go any further."
Melianthe stands silent, clearly disappointed, her brief dream of meeting Nidalese dusk elves evaporating. "Darkness is not necessarily evil," she says quietly to her scorpion.
"The followers of Zon-Kuthon," Blackjack replies. "The god of darkness. And pain. His followers excel in torture .... which to them, is transcendence."
"Just so!" Laori nods. "Life is pain. And denial is delusion, as I like to say. Followers of Zon-Kuthon, or Kuthites as some call us, tend to be a dour lot. I get it, its not for everyone, but I try to keep a more positive outlook on things. A little sadomasochism can be healthy for the soul."
She smiles warmly and waves a welcome as Jarha enters. "Well, I was being honest up front when Segang here asked, so I'm not sure what else to say. I originally came to Korvosa on the trail of a Nidalese criminal named Andaisin. That trail went cold, and since I was already here, I decided to look for these inspired souls," she gestures to the six skull candles.
Her eyes suddenly perk up, "Your being here is certainly a sign from Zon-Kuthon! Here I was, trying to figure out the best way to confront the Emperor of Old Korvosa to gain access to Salvator Scream, when a handy group of specialists shows up looking for the same thing. We have to work together, if you'll join me. What do you say?"
"And no, I will not be torturing Mister Scream or anyone else."
"Unless they ask first," she adds with a wink.
Laori's brow furrows after a moment, "Wait a second... You're here interrogating me like I'm some sort of shady character -- which, I'll admit, I kind of understand, given Zon-Kuthon's reputation -- but why are you after Salvatore? How do I know you're not out to harm the man?"
She watches your responses closely, looking for signs of deception.
"We do not know Salvatore, but I assure you we do not harm people without cause," says Melianthe. "It is complicated why we are here, but suffice to say we too have a person who has gone missing in Old Korvosa, and further investigation into Salvatore Scream and the Emperor of this place may help us find them."
She looks almost embarrassed, and speaks plainly, without any artifice, spreading her greyish fingers. "It's really complicated. You'll understand if we keep some information to ourselves until we know we can trust you better. We've been betrayed before."
"Do you have a warrant or writ for this Andaisin that you can show us?" says Melianthe after another moment.
I like this elf. Segang decides. She is direct and does not deceive. But then he regards her and asks pointedly How do you know of the 7 and their inspiration?
"It's really complicated. You'll understand if we keep some information to ourselves until we know we can trust you better. We've been betrayed before."
"That's fair," she replies, nodding sympathetically. "I would be more suspicious if you trusted me automatically."
"Do you have a warrant or writ for this Andaisin that you can show us?" says Melianthe after another moment.
Laori arches an eye, but then nods. "An odd thing, really, but Nidal is a bit particular about things." She searches through her pack for a moment, producing a scroll wrapped in black silk string. She hands it over Melianthe.
This writ of bounty authorizes one Laori Vaus, elf maiden and Inquisitor Captain of Zon-Kuthon, cull, pursuit, capture and captivity of Andaisin et'Urgathoa, derogated Lady of Nidal, for crimes against the state and humanity. Any who, made aware of these presents and subsequent to, participates in obstruction of this agent's bounty, will be considered an enemy of the Umbral Court and nation of Nidal.
... // various official signatures //
But then he regards her and asks pointedly How do you know of the 7 and their inspiration?
"Kuthites are a bit of a niche crowd, if you take my meaning. Its a small community. When word of an artist creating pieces in the themes of Zon-Kuthon, it gets noticed. When seven different artists are making such, even in a large city like Korvosa, it suggests some kind of significant connection. I'm trying to find out what that is, if I can." She gestures to the six skulls, frowning for a moment, "It has not been much of a success, as yet."