Mercy weighs in, hoping to add credence to Paulus' calming words;
"We mean no harm. We are merely seekers of answers in a city where questions are as rife as the chaos..."
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Nic rolls her eyes as Paulus approaches the door with that dumb smile of his. Way that guy smiles, you'd think we hadn't just fought off a bunch of thugs and gotten cut up in the process, she thinks, shaking her head as his words come out as... less than reasssuring. As Mercy steps in to help, she adds her own voice in assistance. "We can hear you boarding up in there, and frankly I don't blame you. Whole damn town's going to some level of Hell or other, and right now, we're just concerned citizens trying to do our bit to help. The very fact that we aren't just beating down thge door like they were should tell you something," she adds as an afterthought, hoping she sounds convincing.
It takes a minute, but soon the door is open again and a young woman in the armor of a Hellknight Armiger is waving you inside.
"Quickly, before more come," she urges.
Annabelle hails the armiger, glad to see things moving along swimmingly. Turning to the others, "It'd be best to bring them along - we've subdued them, and they won't be trying anything with the hellknights with us."
Calcedon slips into the door, waving the rest of them in. Due to pressed time, he isn't able to be as flowery with his words as he normally is and gets right to the point. "We've helped you out, I suppose it's time that you tell us some things. Do you know where they're keeping their prisoners? Where's their headquarters?"
Seeing that the well-spoken bard has things under control inside, Paulus remains outside, gently (or ungently, their choice) herding their captives inside the building, trying to keep them well away from those inside who have cause to bear them ill will.
At Paulus' shoulder Mercy stands, stoic and firm - her shield presented, and eyes looking for signs of further trouble from the chaotic streets beyond;
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As the party moves into the warehouse, they see that the young woman is not alone. Four others are inside, a young man in armor identical to the woman's, an older man with a scar running from his chin almost to the top of his skull and a clouded eye, another woman who looks to be in her late twenties with short cropped hair and bundles of stout muscle under her scarred skin, and a young girl with blue-black hair in the tattered tunic of the Korvosan Guard. All of them are bloodied and battered, the old man and the young girl being the worst off. The other two are barely conscious, and the girl is out cold, but the old man is awake and lucid.
"Ye beat sev'n o' 'em senseless. I think ye earned a good 'piss off' from me fop o' a nephew," he growls as he sees you bringing in the four still breathing thugs.
"Since he ain't here, I guess you'll get yer gold's worth with me. Who the hells are ye and what makes he so high 'n' mighty, eh?"
The young woman, the only on of the group still on her feet closes the doors and hurriedly barricades them again.
Feck, so much for the hellknights being able to assist in watching these captives; they're barely together themselves!
"Just a few concerned citizens, asked by the Queen and others to help keep the city from going further into chaos."
Annabelle notices the slumped girl with the blue-black hair and tunic. Running her hands through her hair in relief, she turns toward her compatriots. Well, we've found her!"
"Just doing our civic duty," Nic says dryly, eyeing the Hellknight uniforms with disdain. "Seems we've been running one errand after another, and finding all kinds of trouble in the process." At Annabelle's words of relief, she nods. "Took enough running around, too," she mutters.
It had not been a good day for Cal. He wasn't particularly fond of the queen, or hellknights, or imps, and he didn't play near enough music yet today to calm his frazzled nerves. Be that as it may, it turned out that some people only really responded positively through harsh language, and quite a few of them resided within the hellknights, so he was fairly confident the cathartic spouting off would actually be beneficial in the circumstance.
He pointed his finger and poked the proud man in the chest as a vein popped out in his forehead, and he spoke like a hellknight drill sergeant at the ungrateful swine. "I'm the guy who put his soul on the line to drag your sorry* donkey**s back to Jeggare Circle. You and your nephew can keep your piss to yourselves and shove your sorry* pride right up your donkey** or we'll beat you hell donkey** senseless, leave your sorry* donkey** here for when the sorry* crusaders come knockin' again. If you want to hole up here you sorry* pile of sticks***, and wait for the next sorry* miracle to come by and save you again, at least be sorry* useful and tell us where the sorry* the snake**** is that started this crusade sticks*** so we can cut off it's sorry* head and make the sorry* streets safe enough so you can walk your lousy donkey** back to headquarters with your head held high because you had the balls to bite the hand that saved your donkey*."
The bard turned to the cleric and spoke in a completely calm, cheerful voice, turning off the spigot of vitriol and suddenly back to his normal velvet tones. He even felt better after all that. "Can you spare a channel for the lot of them? It would be easier for them to walk than if we have to carry people out of here."
He glanced sideways at the old man and spoke again, "So, how do you want to leave?"
Paulus' eyes widen as the bard spews forth his expletive-filled tirade against the grizzled old coot. It had been quite some time since he had heard any of those terms used so creatively, and he stands there, almost enraptured.
When the bard turns to him suddenly, the priest nearly jumps. When the calm request for healing is made, though, he nods, smiling. "You are correct, of course. I should have seen to that sooner."
Mercy winces as she listen's to Cal's colourful diatribe.
Stoically the tall warrior mutters a dry aside;
"Consider them suitably chastised... Now best we are on our way eh?"
The old man looks at Calcedon for a moment, looking a bit stunned. Then his eyes narrow and a cold, cruel, thin smile spreads across his face.
"Ah, I thought I recognized ye. Yer that limp wrist Fordyce. Oh yes, I remember you. Came ta us a damned s+@!-headed fop an' we had ta beat a backbone inta ye," the old man slowly rises, the others looking away and trying not to draw his attention, "Thought we'd made a man outta ye, we did. Then ye f!~&ed that Varisian whore. F~%~ed her good ye did. Rutted her like the damn beast those Gypsies are. Then ye ran off tha next morning, crying cause ye screwed a piece o' s+$~."
he laughs as he makes his way closer to Cal, his yellowed, crooked teeth gleaming.
"Ye never told us what she was like ta f#+~ an' play with. Oh ye had a lot o' fun w'her ye did, wouldna let any o' tha rest o' us near her that night as you made her sing an' howl. Ye didn' have t'run y'know. We coulda kept her locked up in tha keep if she was that good o' a toy to f#+$ an' play with."
"Sir, it is men like you who make the people shudder when they see a follower of Asmodeus. Your words betray your foul upbringing and manner, and you know no gratitude for those that rescued you from an awful fate. Be silent, or I shall not try to check the wrath of those you try to provoke." Paulus levels his gaze at the hostile old man, shaking his head at the end of his speech.
Cal smiled back. If what the old man had said before struck a nerve, this last statement set the young noble completely on fire. He started speaking quietly through gritted teeth, eyes and veins bulging, and it was quite possible that if his intent alone could kill the man, there would be nothing but a fine red mist before him. He made a motion as if he were going to take off a glove, but finding no glove there, he seemed to get even angrier.
"And if you think the hellknight beatings were what turned me into a man, you have no F#$%ing idea what pain is. For eight years I lived with a Kuthonite who made me so miserable that training and getting beaten until I puked was like a Sunday picnic by the sea in comparison. And if you mention so much as one word about any woman again in my presence I'll show you what I learned from him."
He rested his hand on his sword hilt, and stared the old man down, daring him to speak so he'd have occasion to spill his guts on the floor.
Mercy lays a gauntleted hand on Cal's shoulder and whispers;
"Restraint friend Cal. He wants you to react..."
The shield of the Dawnflower stands tall next to her comrade, and flashes a hard smile;
"You Hellions do like to bray like the goat-headed devils you all like to worship... Now what say you all stay quiet whilst those who saved your misbegotten arses talk... and maybe we'll all survive this chaos. Eh?"
:
Entering the barricade room, Elise holds back and lets the others do most of the talking; the last time Elise spoke to a Hellknight commander, things did not go so well.
Though she remained quiet, Elise grew alarmed at the tone and timbre of the rapidly deteriorating parlay. Shaking her head somewhat incredulously, Elise finally interjects "Alright, that's enough! In case everyone has forgotten, the danger is still very clear and present."
Looking over at the old man, Elise simply adds "Listen, whatever your past with Cal has been, he's here to help you now... so you can finish up this discussion later." Taking the initiative, she starts helping the wounded ones up in an attempt to get them moving "We need to go, your friends here need help."
As she prepares to leave, Elise looks over at Cal with a somewhat perplexed look. Passing near him, she whispers "What was that all about Cal?" Shaking her head, she second guesses herself and adds "Actually, never mind, I.. I don't need to know."
Feeling chastised, as well, the priest's cheeks burn as he turns back to their captives. "Alright, we're about to head out. Let's remain nice and orderly and quiet, and SWIFT. Your cooperation will be reported. Your failure to do so will be, as well." He lets his green eyes rest on the men for a few moments before turning to the others.
"Are we ready?" He smiles at the younger girl amongst the Hellknights, waving her over towards Mercy. "You can walk with Mercy and I, my lady. We worship the sun goddess, as you can see, and will not let any harm come to you."
"Not all of us worship devils, little Sarenrite," the older woman mumbles when Mercy intervenes, "some of us are members of the order out of duty or to pay some debt."
The old man fumes, but doesn't say anything after Elise and Paulus begin to organize everyone to leave.
"How do you plan on making it past their patrols," the woman asks, "Zolvenni and the rest of us found out first hand that these thugs know their business. It's only because of the young page and Alicia that we weren't taken to wherever they are keeping their captives, although I'm afraid the little paid dearly for her role in aiding us," she says as she looks down at the still unconscious page. From the bandages and the amount of blood staining her tunic, it appears that she was nearly killed by a sword blade that stabbed deep into her chest.
"Besides, we don't know any of you. How do we know you won't be leading us into a trap?"
Seeing that the embers of the argument were burning low, but still smoldering, Annabelle decided to keep her opinions to herself on the matter.
Gesturing to the older woman, "We'll have to come up with one. A plan, I mean. Anything you can tell us about their methods? Their numbers?"
Seeing that the young page was still out, even after receiving a wave of his goddess' energy, the priest again calls upon Sarenrae, a warmth flowing out from him to all within thirty feet.
Just the touch of Mercy was enough to recognize he wasn't the only person in the room, and he was immediately hit with one thought in his head, almost as if it were spoken by the goddess Shelyn herself. Did you bring a rose? It was one of the most deeply held beliefs of all of his faith, to first bring gentleness and beauty, and he'd come in with all the subtlety and tact of a battleaxe.
He looked over at the cowed old man he'd gutted with his words. Who was he indeed, that he'd cause such a breach of etiquette? That he'd fall from grace in such a manner just of some salty old man? Or was it the fact that he believed that this man didn't matter, that he'd said what he said? Did he somehow lose the conviction that all people matter and do not deserve to be prejudged? He'd won the battle of words, but at what cost? Well, he discovered another ugly thing in his heart. For out of the heart, the mouth speaks.
Elise's curiosity and rejection was probably the greatest blow as it was a confirmation of self-loathing with which he'd been struggling with from the last year. That he didn't deserve the company of good people, that he was unworthy of hope. Despite all of this, Cal felt that he still was needed, and that he'd have to live a life more full of goodness to make up for the evil he'd done. But would it ever be enough? Who was to say?
Ignoring the old man now that he was silent, and giving a nod of thanks to Mercy and Elise for their assistance, Cal addressed the issues brought up by the other lady. "We hadn't ran into any patrols on our way here, that's why we think we could get you out of here the same way. If you do have information about them, we could make a plan, otherwise we'll just have to make a run out of the area to get the injured to safety. And if we do hit a patrol, at least we know they don't really get bigger than seven."
"And you do know me, at least one of you does." He half-heartedly pointed a thumb at the old man. "As he mentioned, I'm Calcedon Fordyce of House Fordyce, former great house of Korvosa. We were first sent by the queen to help the Korvosan Guard, and she told us of the missing page, Michelle. I assume that's her. Along the way, the hellknights also informed us of a missing patrol, and I assume that's you. We came looking for you, and we plan to get you out of here, along with any information we can pull out of these thugs here."
"And to be honest, if this were a trap, they probably would have sent a crew that didn't include the idiot you see before you that picked a fight with the first jerk he saw instead of actually trying to pretend to help. Also, we have clergy of Sarenrae and Iomadae here as well, who are not usually duplicitous. You are in at least well meaning hands."
"Very well then, Lord Fordyce, let us be introduced," the older woman says, "I am Tallienda Roscetti, and I believe you know of Tylo Zolvenni. The lad over there is Hamish Ulsmere, the one who let you in is Alicia Volsdottir," she says, pointing to each person in turn, "and I guess you already know, or at least know of, the young page here. She didn't give us her name before getting herself, and the rest of us loose. That is when they ran her through with a sword. We've done our best, but I fear she may not make it even with divine blessings of health."
She turns and gives the group an appraising look, glaring at one of the captives who shrinks back.
"Now that you know our names, might we have yours? Then we can discuss plans."
After channeling his Goddess's healing power twice and getting no response, Paulus hurries over to the young woman, assessing her wounds with a practiced eye.
Annabelle gives off a casual salute, standing up tall. "Tallienda, I am Annabelle Bleich, of the Korvosan Guard."
If the gods are good, hopefully we can pull them out of this mess - and us, too.
"Nic, a woman of no importance," the redhead says shortly, watching Paulus work. The sight of him calling on the blessings of his godess to little response is all too familiar - and all too painful. She forces herself to look away, rubbing her thumb across the hilt of a dagger in her belt worriedly.
Mercy nods a greeting as she shadows Paulus to the side of the wounded girl;
"Mercy. Sacred Warrior of the Blessed Dawnflower. With steel or spell if we can aid or save we will."
The paladin removes a gauntlet and looks to her faith brother;
"Brother - I can assist with healing if needbe... By laying of hands or the vials I carry..."
The girl is responding to the blessings of the Dawnflower, but given how close to death she was, its easy to see why she is still unconscious. She has some minor wounds, scrapes and scratches as well as some bruises, but it's the wound that pierced her lung that nearly killed her. She's in less danger than before, but her breathing is still labored and her skin still pale.
"Are you sure trusting these... people is wise, sir?" Hamish asks Tallienda, now that he's more lucid than before.
The priest sighs in relief at finding the girl stable, if still very hurt. He looks up to Mercy with a smile, shaking his head. "This wound here pierced her lung. It would have meant her life, would it have festered, but Sarenrae has shown her blessing to the young woman this day. If you could lay your healing hands upon her, I am sure she would be stable enough for travel." He stands and claps the paladin on the back.
Turning to the others, "Paulus of the Church of the Dawnflower. We can discuss plans, but let us be brief. Who knows when more of those thugs will arrive? Our actions have likely not gone unnoticed."
Mercy nods and places her ungauntleted hand upon the girl's chest - where the pain still remains;
"Let this healing light of the Dawnflower warm your soul and heal your pain childe. As the sun rises so shall you."
:
Zev just harumphs at having to go through introductions once again, too much formality with all these folk. Instead he just grunts his acknowledgement of their introductions, instead indicating the girl child, "You want I should carry her?" he asks either Mercy or Paulus.
Listening to Cal discuss strategy, Elise grins with a wink and adds "Duplicitous? No, not usually... but not always one percent honest either." Glancing over at Tallienda, Elise adds somewhat plainly "Anyway, my name is Elise Warden; my sword serves the Inheritor, though presently I'm in service to the Queen as are we all."
Growing more serious in tone, Elise looks to Hamish and addresses his concerns directly "Our trustworthiness is not in question, though honestly, your choices are somewhat limited given the circumstances. Know that we have the young page girls interest at heart, and therefore yours by extension."
Moving quickly beside Paulus, Mercy and Zev, Elise inquires "Is she safe to move now you think? We can't doddle here much longer."
The priest nods to Zeverin. "If you can, my friend. The girl will be ok, but we need to move faster than she can likely manage, at the moment." He smiles at both of the half-orcs, then turns to address Elise.
"The page is hurt, but mending. We can move, and quickly, if need be. That is what I would suggest, at any rate."
"Am I to take it that we are splitting up, Paulus?" Annabelle looks a bit unsure of the prospect.
"I was hoping we could all move out, and quickly. A group of a dozen armed men and women moving through the streets will hopefully deter any curious patrols until we get to safer territory. Unless someone has a different plan?" He is careful not to say 'better' and sound defiant. The priest is certainly open to suggestions.
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