As the group walk Mercy finds herself having to hold her tongue at the glibness of her comrades acceptance of Devilry in their midst;
They have been here from the start... Yet so hand Lamm or Lamm's of another name. Yet we put down one and accept the other... Dawnflower guide me!
She takes a mental note to discuss with Paulus before the appearance of the imps snaps her back to reality.
As the parley continues, Mercy reaches for her scimitar - a hard look crossing her hard features;
"Were these creatures Dockers or Lamm's thugs we would not exchange pleasantries... Yet here we are - engaging with these mere hellions!"
Mercy stands firm next to Zev and Elise, shield high and blade poised;
"Begone Imps we have business elsewhere and no time to trifle with petty vermin of Hell!"
Paulus shakes his head at the whole mess, wordlessly moving up besides his more righteous allies, drawing his scimitar.
Still at the front of the group, Nic shrugs and draws her rapier. "Well, I've never fenced a devil before. Shall we get this over with?"
"We prefer the souls of stupid paladins that don't know their place!"
Two imps each go after Mercy, Elise, Paulus, and Nicoletta. The imps attacking Mercy go for the sash at her waist and her helmet. One of the little devils turns the helm so it covers her eyes while his partner undoes the sash, sending anything secured by it to the ground.
Elise finds herself being tripped by one imp while the other waits for her to fall before going after her holy symbol and tearing it from her neck and taunting her.
"You don't need this, do you?" he chitters before throwing it aside.
Paulus finds one of the tiny fiends attacking him has decided to flap and flit in front of his face, distracting him while the other circles behind and begins to yank on his hair. Both chittering madly all the while.
Nicoletta's assailants go for her armor, loosening buckles, straps, and ties until the pieces of it fall to the ground, even undoing the tie holding her hair back. As they work, the imps whisper all manner of salacious things about her and what they will do to her once they're done.
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Rhasuel nods sagely at the imp's reply. That made good sense.
Suddenly they were undressing Nic. In the middle off the road!
Self, he says to himself, this will not do...
He takes the business end of his longspear and pokes one of the demons on Nic up the butt.
Hey! That is less than gentlemanly! At the very least, you must buy a lady a drink before you disrobe her! I am ashamed to recognize you as devils. What would Amadeus say! You didn't even offer terms in exchange!
He wags his head and clicks his tongue at them.
Paulus furrows his brow at the little creature flitting about in front of him, and he lines up a strike just as he feels his head yanked back, a sharp pain flooding his skull as the imp threatens to tear the hair up by the roots. He swivels around, swinging his scimitar erratically at the creature behind him.
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Zev, standing to the front with the others ready to fight, wastes no time in lashing out at the little devils. He hesitates briefly as he is torn between his one friend, and the woman that has caught his eye, and in this instance Paulus has drawn the shortest straw. Zev moves over to beside the imp toying with Mercy's helm, "Fight like a man, you scrawny sack of bat s$#@."
Yelling in anger and frustration Mercy reaches up and pulls her helm free allowing her to see her wee tormentor.
"Foul creature! Your trickery will be your undoing!"
Bereft of her sword belt the paladin growls and swings the helm by its strap like a makeshift flail, trying to crack the creature... hard:
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"What in the..." Nic swats at one of the fiends as it goes for her hair, but her buckler catches on her shoulder. Seconds later, it too is gone, clattering to the cobblestones. She rolls her shoulders and shrugs. Well, let them see, she thinks darkly, swishing her rapier once as she whirls to face Rhasuel and sets her stance. "I have a three drink minimum, old man," she grins, fixing her eyes on the imp between them.
An instant later, she's attacking, falling into the dance, the routine, the sway of fencing, swatting at the imp's tail with the side of her blade before stabbing viciously at the little bastard.
Scowling at the little devil, Elise shakes her head and growls "No I don't... but I'll happily take it back from your cold, dead hands." Her glare and the seriousness in her voice, coupled with her glowing blade seem to indicate that she isn't bluffing.
From her prone position, Elise strikes the imp with grim determination righteous indignation.
"Get off you filthy vermin! Calcedon shouted when the situation went beyond talk. He grabbed at one of the imps to keep it from harming anyone or accomplishing any more mischief. Paulus looked like he needed help. Elise didn't look like she needed any. Those flapping wings looked easy to hold on to if grabbed, so Cal set about to do just that. Also, they didn't need any of these getting away if they could help it. They'd just get reinforcements.
Growling at the pests, Annabelle unsheathes her sword, and tries to wave it at one of the imps bedeviling Nic - menacing their fragile wings, so the beastie would get skewered by the other's rapier. "Brimstone'd blighter - aren't there some pseudo-dragons for you to get munched by?
The Imps that are struck curse while the others hoot and laugh as they continue to menace the more religious, or brash, of the party.
Until one of them squeals in pain as holy fire burns him to ash.
One of them, the same one that first confronted the group of fledgling heroes rises above the fray and points to Elise.
"Kill her! Rip her limb from limb and make her bleed! Kill her sl-AAARRGH!"
From seemingly nowhere, a purple blur snatches the imp out of the sky and both slam into the ground, the imp's heart impaled by the tail of a small, purple dragon. As the remaining imps turn to attack, almost a dozen more of Korvosa's famed psuedo-dragons dart into the fray, mauling the imps. In bare seconds, the fight is over, and seven imp corpses and a pile of glowing ash lie in the alleyway.
Though feeling a bit foolish, for a guard to wave their sword and make a raucous, Annabelle nevertheless did grin as the miniature drakes slammed into the nasty devils.
"Well, those were some words of prophecy, eh?" she said as she put her steel away.
Paulus rubs his head where he had nearly had his hair pulled out, reaching out and clapping Calcedon on the shoulder. "My thanks for your assistance, friend."
Seeing that the tiny dragons had things under control, he waits for his companions to get themselves ready again, then continues to the Citadel.
Once he had gotten a hold on the imp in front of him, he lifted it up in the air just to have a Pseudodragon tear into it and sent it plummeting to the ground. He gave a small yet sincere applause to the pseudodragon troop. "What a wonderful display! I should be glad to repay you for the kindness. We hold free concerts for pseudodragons at House Fordyce every morning. Tell your friends!"
The bard gave a smile toward the guardswoman. "Perhaps you've followed the wrong calling, although who listens to prophets anymore? You're probably better off the way you are."
Receiving a clap on the shoulder from the cleric was welcome, and he returned it in kind. "No problem, it made sense to team up against them, we had them outnumbered for the moment. Although I'm pretty sure Elise would have slaughtered the lot of them in time."
Paulus laughs as he regards the guardswoman. "I'd steer well of that profession, if I were you. While there are some who have the genuine talent, most are a bunch of thieves and crooks wrestling coins away from the gullible and desperate."
The priest nods to Cal. "Indeed. Our Sword would have made short work of the devil-spawn for sure."
Grinning as she picks up her cloak, Nic gives a whistle and a wave to the pseudodragons. "We thank thee for thine assistance, o watchful protectors of Korvosa!" With a laugh, she sets about collecting her chest-plate, bracers, and other leathers. Grumbling now, she starts pulling it on, adjusting her blouse, fiddling with the buckles and clasps, handing out pieces to other party members to hold as she tries to free her hands. She makes no mention of the imp she skewered, but wipes the ichor from her blade carefully. "Looks like I'll need a new cloak soon," she mutters.
Still on the ground, Elise takes a breath and exhales in a sigh of relief and relaxes, staring upward; she had infuriated the devils, and lived to tell about it. Truthfully, she had perhaps over played her hand, but the pseudodragons had put an end to any retribution the winged devils had planned for her.
Slowly getting up, Elise laughed nervously and blushed as Paulus and Cal praised her prowess "Oh, stop it guys... you're embarrassing me." Dusting her clothes and shield off, Elise again looked appreciatively skyward at the pseudodragons and smiled "Magnificent creatures. Anyway, with that unpleasant distraction behind us, we should keep on our way."
Paulus finds himself holding a leather greave, of all things, clarity finding its way to him as the swashbuckler starts to reattach her armor. He smiles, but his face was grim. Such luck could not hold...this group would find itself sorely taxed again before long. His expression is sober when he hands the woman her piece of armor when she is ready for it.
He then nods to Elise, eager to make it off the streets and to the Citadel.
Mercy also shoots Paulus a forced smile at the group's jocularity as she re-straps her helm and weapon's belt.
The paladin nods at Elise's comment regarding the prowess and beauty of their pseudodragon saviours;
"The Sun's blessings upon them! Upon us all this today eh?"
Gathering her gear Mercy once again falls in line as they make for the Citadel.
Annabelle gives a mock 'salute' (though it's more appreciative in spirit) to the little drakes.
Giving a little laugh at Paulus, "I suppose you're right. Still, I suppose we all have a little insight now and then."
Nic gears up as she walks, stopping every now and then to buckle a greave, adjust a boot, or swing the boiled plates ove her hips into place. Once she's kitted up again, she still tugs occasionally at the armour, muttering to herself periodically as she attempts to get it all sitting right. She follows the group to the Citadel, falling in closer to the middle - perhaps having learned from the altercation with the imps. She keeps close to the front, however, simply allowing others to lead, keeping an eye out for more of the little devils.
Zev seems a little disappointed to not get to put up a longer fight, though he does also applaud Elise. "Yes Blondie, you slay your enemy with aplomb. I recognize your battle prowess." With that he is prepared to continue to their destination.
The rest of the trip is uneventful and soon the party has arrived at the gates of the Citadel. The guards at the gate let you in and give Annabelle a nod in greeting. The massive fortress is almost deserted and those few guards on the walls and in the courtyard are tense as they do their rounds.
A young page, a girl of no more than fourteen, runs from the entrance of the central keep and meets you in the middle of the courtyard.
"Hullo, terribly sorry about the lack of hospitality, but as you can see, we're a little short on free hands at the moment. If the lords and ladies will follow me," she says breathlessly before turning to lead you all into the keep. The hallways are empty, save the frantic runner that you occasionally have to step aside for. The page leads you to a stout wooden door, and is nearly given a broken nose when an angry looking sergeant storms out. He brusquely apologies after nearly bowling the page over before shoving his way past and continues down the hall.
Inside the office is a woman that projects an air of authority, but the bags under her eyes give away how thin the veneer is wearing.
"Come in, come in! I'm pleased to see the citizen's of Korvosa stepping up to help where they can. I know Miss Bleich, but I'm curious about the rest of you," The woman smiles as she stands and waves everyone in. Turning to the page, "Oana, can you fetch some refreshment for our guests?"
"Yes ma'am. Is there anything in particular my lords and ladies care for?" Oana turns to the party, making not of any special requests and scurrying off once everyone has spoken.
"Praise Abadar for good help. Now," the woman returns her attention to the party, her smile not having faded one bit since seeing you arrive, "I am Field Marshal Cressida Kroft. Please have a seat and introduce yourselves. You too Miss Bleich." The woman, Cressida, says as she takes her seat and indicates for the party to do the same. Once seated, she waits patiently for all of you to introduce yourselves.
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Rhasuel takes his seat slowly with a quiet sigh. In spite of his new found vigor and the strength granted him by his close brush with death via Shiver, his bones were still getting older. No amount of physical persistence could hope to undo that.
He introduces himself quickly and succinctly.
I am Rhasuel an-Tephu, humble writer and magical researcher, formerly of the Acadame's library, My lady.
He seats himself, keeping his gaze on the dark-haired woman as he answers her request. "Paulus Westland, priest of the great Sarenrae, and servant of the city of Korvosa." He phrases his choice carefully, keeping out any alliance or allegiance with the Queen at this moment.
Mercy nods in thanks at the offered gratuities but declines any refreshment.
The tall half orc takes her seat before following Paulus' introduction with her own:
"I am Mercy, Field Marshal: Humble Shield Maid of the Blessed Dawnflower."
Annabelle politely declines refreshments. It could be seen that she has business on her mind, though she was keeping Verik in the back of her mind. Looks like the Field Marshall nipped some of his problems. She shook away these thoughts and to the business at hand.
"You know of me, Lady Field Marshall, and I express my gratitude of having an audience with you." She gives a Korvosan salute. "I'm merely a guardswoman, and glad for it."
Grasping at the young page as the door slams into her, Elise responds quickly and with concern "Are you okay?" Firing an angry parting glance at the Sergeant storming out, Elise adds in a voice loud enough for him to hear and laced with contempt "Hey, why don't you watch where you're going!?" Turning her attention back to the page, Elise continues to examine her nose "Annabelle, who was that inconsiderate oaf of a man?"
In the office of the Field Marshall, the young warrior respectfully bows from the waist when Cressida's eyes fall on her "I am Elise Warden m'lady, a servant of Iomedae."
The sergeant takes a brief moment to look Elise up and down before turning away with a scoff.
The page, it turns out, is light enough on her feet that she managed to get out of the way. Other than some fatigue from lack of sleep (which seems to be a common thing among the guard of late,) she's fine.
"Nicoletta Scarletti. I believe my brother, Aurelio, is in your employ." Nic takes a seat with her usual grace and casual ease, crossing one leg over the other. Her cloak falls open at her side, leaving her rapier visible.
Taking special note of all the servants in the place, one gains the view that Calcedon shows as much deference to the queen as he does to just about anyone else. When he listens to the "It's a bit early for ale and it dulls the senses. I'll have some tea if you have any." Cal gives the servant girl a wink before she scurries off.
The bard introduces himself before taking a seat. "I am Calcedon of House Fordyce, concerned citizen. I thank you for your efforts toward hospitality. As you are aware, we are here to assist you in whatever ways you deem appropriate. A dark time for our city will only make us shine brighter when through diligence and strength we overcome."
Zev refuses the offer of a drink, and just mumbles out "Still just Zev. Maybe I need to get a title or something."
Looking back at Elsie, and in more of a muttered voice, "Verik Vancaskerkin - he's from Riddleport, and you know how they are. From what I've heard on the grapevine, he's calmed down since some incident at Eel's End." She gives a shrug.
Cressida chuckles after the introductions are through. Oana returns with a platter full of cups of tea. Not the finest tea, but warm enough on a day such as this.
"Thank you Oana," Cressida tells the page as she leans back with a steaming mug after everyone has had a chance to grab one for themselves, "Take a break for now, I'll call you if I need you."
The page gives a nod and a yes ma'am to the field marshal before leaving the office and shutting the door.
"Queen Illeosa sent word that you were coming, and from what I've heard, you lot are already making a bit of a name for yourselves. Between taking care of Lamm and the Dockside Deckers, I'm in your debt, and I'm afraid I'm only going to be asking more from you. Korvosa is tearing herself apart, and I fear that this is only going to get worse. It pains me to see this happen to my home, but I guess we've been lucky. The damp has kept the city from going up like a tinderbox as we as dampening even the Hellknights' 'enthusiasm' for dispensing 'justice.' Unfortunately, they've still done their damnedest to grind anyone who doesn't see things their way into paste, including some of my own guards. I tried to negotiate with them through my other page, but she went missing, and I need every hand I can get to keep this from going up in flames and killing even more innocent people."
The field marshal takes a sip of her tea, her unheard sigh cutting through the steam as she lowers the mug.
"I hate asking this of you, but I don't have anyone to spare, and I fear enough for Melissa's fate without sending Oana out and having her go missing too. The Hellknights holding my people are basing themselves out of Jeggare Circle in North Point. Do whatever you can to convince them that holding guardsmen is not going to do anything but make this worse, and find out what became of Melissa. She's fifteen with fair skin and hair so dark it's blue. Please, do whatever you need to, but please try to resolve this without bloodshed. There's enough of that going on."
Cressida has set her mug down and has her hands clasped in front of her. The note of pleading is plain in her voice. Her eyes are full of desperation, and a desperate need to hold onto any shred of hope that Korvosa won't embroil itself in a bloody civil war.
Paulus listens with deep concern. Although wise enough to understand that people did such things, he can't really comprehend why the Hellknights would be acting in such a way. He sighs as the Field Marshall finishes her story and request, then nods.
"This city is in need of every able guard it can get. You have my oath that I will try to see this through as you request. My hope is the Dawnflower will guide us through to peaceful resolution." The priest stands, bowing slightly from the waist.
Calcedon blanched a bit at the request, allowing the others to get in their words earlier. The first thing they are asked to do is talk to the Hellknights? This might be one of the toughest things they could have asked. There were a few in the Hellknights who saw Calcedon as a traitor. Some of them still thought much of him, and some were unknowns he had not spoken to in over a year. This would be one of his biggest tests.
Despite that, Cal puts on a confident face. "It would be my pleasure to talk some sense into them. I've had some dealings with the Hellknights in the past, so I may be able to have some influence. I have some friends among them, so I would prefer we stay away from bloodshed as well." He stands up ready to immediately go and accomplish Cressada's request.
To say he's nervous about this mission is an understatement, especially since you haven't seen him get shaken when he's ready to walk into the arms of death.
Mercy listens intently to the quandary that unfolds before the group.
Hellknights holding Guards... The discord is present through every echelon of the city it would seem...
Nodding at Paulus' pledge she offers her own;
"I echo Brother Westland's words My Lady. We will find her, and with The Dawnflower blessing, it will be a peaceful resolution..."
"Has the whole damn world gone topsy-turvy?" Nic wonders, rubbing the base of her rapier between her thumb and forefinger. "Working with the Guard, talking to Hellknights... last damn things I ever thought I'd find myself doing. So crazy I can't turn this job down."
Zev furrows his brow in thought, his eyes dart and he purses his lips. "Well, I never thought of breaking knuckles and kneecaps in an official capacity, but I guess I'm willing to work for the guard. As for negotiating with Hellknights, that aint something I'm good at, but I'll go and do this, just to be there in case it goes sour. If that happens, I think the rest will want my axe around." He looks at his oldest friend Paul, knowing the response, but tries to shoot a few unnoticed sideway glances at Mercy to gauge her response.
Zev catches her eye and Mercy nods in return;
"The infernal favoured Hellknights are not know for their... flexibility nor diplomacy... If it comes to it Zev, your axe will be useful... incentive for them to comply with our request perhaps... Though Dawnflower willing it'll not come to that."
She shoots her fellow half-orc a warm smile in recognition of his discomfort with perhaps a more subtle approach, but admiration in him entertaining the notion.