Dead Man Walking! A Way of the Wicked Campaign Phase III (Inactive)

Game Master bwatford

Etna twitches in disgust when Paimon eyes her head to toe "Will you please stop doing that?". Quite appropriate to Paimon's question, Etna's hair glow for a second brightly, fluttering slightly, and then grow back to the previous dull orange with gray streaks. "But if you really want to know: it's not on purpose, my hair move around like this naturally. Mostly when someone look at something that isn't my face when they talk to me." she adds with an offended tone.

"Ah, so there are traitors in your family, too?" Etna asks to Melphael with a dry smile "The only ones in my family are me and my mother. She murdered my beloved father to acquire his inheritance, and I'm the only one cynical enough to have understood that. My father, my cousin, all of my family: they are, or were, too good-hearted to think that my mother would have done something so despicable. So I took upon myself the duty to punish her, to leave her without a coin and without someone that cared for her, like she deserves. Alas" she smiles bitterly "she discovered my plan, thwarted it, and played with me like a cat does with a mouse."
Etna pauses for a second, sighing, and then she ask to the Pale Elf "But tell me Melphael: how did your family betray you?"

"The Beast... is an aberration. An unfortunate anomaly that will soon be corrected, should I have chance to finish my research. Concern yourself not with the rabid thing." He sighs and turns to face Erevan. It would seem ignoring them will not be an option. I suppose I may as well engage them in whatever capacity their primitive minds can muster. "My name, I suppose, is simple enough to divulge, assuming you lot tire of calling me Doctor. I am Dr. Ottakar Wilken*. I would say well met, but..." He rattles his chains meaningfully. He glances at Gabriel for the first time. "These names you speak, Sir Balin, Brandescar... they have significance? While I have lived in this country for a handful of years now, I have been more focused on my practice than the vagaries of the law enforcement here."

*Pronounced VIL-ken

"You would hand this land over to finger biters and dog choppers?" Paimon asks Gabriel, his gaze still lingering on Etna. "I think most of us would agree here that as much as we would love to see the tarnished Mitra fall, none except perhaps you would want this land to fall into the hands of such... people." his gaze moves to Jalil, who still sat in his corner. Much the same way he checked Etna, he checked Jalil. "Then again, why not have a Goblin King? This handsome devil over here could probably work wonders given a crown for his head."

As the doctor gets Gabriel's attention when he speaks.
Sir Balin is a knight of Alerion. He is famed for hunting those that would wrong crown or country down. He is a honorable man that does his duty. Brandiscar may be known to you all to soon. It is the famed prison of our country.

Gabriel eyes Paimon as he speaks.

You think I care what happens with this land. My plans had no future goal, only what we could do next to hurt those that cast us out. None of that matters now. I'm sure all of you have grand schemes of revenge and what you would do if able, but the truth is you were all caught just as me and now one of us will die today.

"You lack finesse, old sport." Paimon replies dryly.

Entering the hall all of a sudden is a large contingent of knights. All of the knights are dressed in spotless parade polished full plate armor and all bear the emblem of the eagle upon their breastplate.

Following the knights now into the hall is a tall bearded knight with messy jet black hair. Some of you quickly recognize him as Sir Balin of Karfeld, since he had a hand in most of your capture. As he walks in he is saluted by the knights that line the walls. Sir Balin gives a quick salute back and begins to head toward the cell.

Sir Balin of Karfeld

Was out all day, and getting through nearly 30 lengthy posts takes a while. This should have been said before Sir Balin's arrival.

After speaking early, Tkaara (who has not yet announced her name or misdeeds) listens as the others speak of their crimes and, in some cases, inner secrets.

Fools all of them. Information is power. Do these fools not know this? No wonder they were caught. I was caught because of desperation, not carelessness. I needed the substances. Without it, I cannot overcome this illness that has plagued me for months.

When the others finally quiet for a moment, she responds to the statements made by a few.

"I have heard a lot of talk amongst you but my favorite without doubt is Gabe's recent comment about the lovely ladies we are all sharing company with in this lovely resort. Fair day ladies. Maybe each of you will...

First, she turns toward the grey skinned hobgoblin giving him a smug look which says "Just try me":

For a while, she remains silent, staring at the floor. "Now I understand what you were saying before" the Ifrit says to Tkaara "There are no rules whatsoever here. Not only they want to ignore the appropriate punishments for our crimes, but they want to hang one of us twelve for entertainment? I am completely speechless. The lack of respect that these people have for their own laws is disgusting."

Next, she turns and shakes her head sadly toward the red haired Ifrit:

"Forgive me" he started, "I know all your names, yet you do not know mine. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Melphael, loyal servant of Asmodeus. I too, for reasons of my own, dispise this perverted mockery of a kingdom called Talingarde. You all wish for a better order? You wished to be saved from the hangman's noose, as I do? Perhaps we can make a deal..." A calm smile sets upon his face.

The next prisoner to have the gaze of the tall woman fall upon him, a haughty look of superiority upon her face as she continues to stand tall with her back perfectly straight, is the pale elf.

"I have to say, I feel quite out of place, as it seems I'm the only one that is not a follower of Asmodeus here!" she say, laughing faintly. . . "I think phrases like this is what brought the good people of Talingrade to label me as evil! Not that I mind , because what I say is only the truth. If you're more cunning than others, good. If not..." Etna points to the outside of the cell "...you get beheaded for public enjoyment."

She then once more turns to the fiery ifrit woman, Tkaara's eyes now flashing with a look of warning. To the ifrit, she hisses a quiet warning: As the guards said, take great care when you use the Dark Lord's name. Yes, it is clear that some here follow the First. But, unless you wish to be the example for the King's chopping block, I would not speak the Lord's name within hearing of the guards. She then takes a breath, which is clearly not as sickly as earlier. What is done, is done to protect and control the people of this nation. This is a noble goal, but when taken to the extreme as Talingarde has done, this simply creates a police state of a different type. A state where the police do not need to act, for the populace is too scared of invoking the wrath of the inquisitors to speak what they truly believe. Instead, they simple nod and agree and go to Mitran temples to gift their tithes to the monarch on his ivory pedestal.

I fear if not executed this day then it is off to Brandiscar. None has ever escaped its walls. My father told me stories. He even stood guard there before. If we go there it is to await our deaths.

Gabrile slumps down with a look of defeat. He gazes over all int he room.

Finally, after the strange red tiefling has apparently given up, Tkaara smiles as she licks her silverish lips.

Entering the hall all of a sudden is a large contingent of knights. All of the knights are dressed in spotless parade polished full plate armor and all bear the emblem of the eagle upon their breastplate.

As they enter the hall the guards get up from their benches where they have been setting and exit the hall quickly. No less than six knights now align each wall of the hall and stand at perfect attention.

Following the knights now into the hall is a tall bearded knight with messy jet black hair. Some of you quickly recognize him as Sir Balin of Karfeld, since he had a hand in most of your capture. As he walks in he is saluted by the knights that line the walls. Sir Balin gives a quick salute back and begins to head toward the cell.

Sir Balin of Karfeld

When Sir Balin walks in, Tkaara's eyes narrow. Unsure of what the others know of the inquisitor's reputation, she remains silent, but carefully watches her cell mates to determine who knows of the royal servant, either from personal experience or reputation.

Gabriel comes to attention as the knights enter. His body language changes and his muscles swell as hatred and rage fill his eyes. He stares at Balin as he enters. His teeth clenched holding back the swears of anger he wishes to launch at the knight.

What is he doing here. If only I were free and had my sword. We would see who's better when there is no surprise.

His eyes quickly look to each other prisoner. Curious to see who looks on inquisitively or those that have hate in their gaze as well.

I like you elf, I'm sorry Melphael. I know what it like to be consumed by revenge. My regret is not fulfilling my plans. See the north has grown soft behind the wall. If I could have sacked a few more garrisons and supplied the Goblinoids with some more weapons who knows what this great land would look like, but that is a dream now. I fear if not executed this day then it is off to Brandiscar. None has ever escaped its walls. My father told me stories. He even stood guard there before. If we go there it is to await our deaths.

"Do not give up hope, devilblood. You must suck it from those who have imprisoned you. You are smart, the frozen north is a prime tool for us. If we could united them under order, our order, we can be unstoppable. I belive the black prince had guided me to you, for nothing is by coincidence, epecially in our...special cases. Me with my skin and you...with everything else. Tell me how did such a fate befall you?"

Ah, so there are traitors in your family, too? Etna asks to Melphael with a dry smile "The only ones in my family are me and my mother. She murdered my beloved father to acquire his inheritance, and I'm the only one cynical enough to have understood that. My father, my cousin, all of my family: they are, or were, too good-hearted to think that my mother would have done something so despicable. So I took upon myself the duty to punish her, to leave her without a coin and without someone that cared for her, like she deserves. Alas" she smiles bitterly "she discovered my plan, thwarted it, and played with me like a cat does with a mouse."

Etna pauses for a second, sighing, and then she ask to the Pale Elf "But tell me Melphael: how did your family betray you?"

The pale elf gazed off into the darkness, sorrow burning his eyes. ”My family betrayed me…by doing nothing. My dear, your curiosity is admirable and your determination impresses me; I shall tell you my tale. Here you see, a sickly prisoner, facing death, and probably worse. You are looking upon the last of the Windwalkers.” he chuckles to himself, ”It’s funny…I have not spoken that name in what feels like centuries. Perhaps I am not a Windwalker anymore…perhaps they died when I was reborn… You probably knew my family as… Devel…” He says the last word with venom.

”A name given to us by the cursed Darius’s. As punishment for serving House Barca in the war, a brand into our souls, to permanently remind them of their servitude to the ruling family.” The anger begins to return within Melphael, as he raises from the wall, his fists ball once again.

”You wish to know of how my family betrayed me? …They did nothing.” He stops…letting the rage build slower, not like the previous outburst, he was still a gentleman after all. ”They did nothing…My mother, who taught me everything I knew about my line…was caught worshiping Asmodeus. She tried to save our crops and finances, when Mitra would not… in the name of Darius…they burned her to a stake and my father did nothing. He, like the rest of my family, stood by as my mother, his wife was burned to ash and he did NOTHING!” he screamed. The rage began to tire him. He leaned against the wall and sighed, the weight of the world slouching on his shoulders.

”For generations my family has been a slave to Darius…I must end this curse…and kill all within Markadian’s family…before they kill mine. This…is my mission. Yours?”

You would hand this land over to finger biters and dog choppers? Paimon asks Gabriel, his gaze still lingering on Etna. I think most of us would agree here that as much as we would love to see the tarnished Mitra fall, none except perhaps you would want this land to fall into the hands of such... people. his gaze moves to Jalil, who still sat in his corner. Much the same way he checked Etna, he checked Jalil. Then again, why not have a Goblin King? This handsome devil over here could probably work wonders given a crown for his head.

Melphael raises an eyebrow to Paimon.

"Do not underestimate goblins, good sir. I have firsthand knowledge that their talents, when brought under a more...ordered, training, can be proven quite effective. Through my guidance, I created an effective killing force out of goblins who onced digged for peasent scraps. They can be quite tenacious in their efforts, and they are extremely expendable for people like us." Melphael reveals his pearly whites with a cheerful, yet sickening simile.

Be careful elf. The First is lord of contracts, but in order to make a deal, you must have something to bargain with. Right now, unless you have something hidden where the sun has never shined, I doubt you have much to bargain with. A contract without consideration is no contract. It is merely two fools shaking hands. If this is your idea of a deal, I believe that the Lord of Contracts will have much suffering after the hangman's noose tightens about your neck.

This one stinks of pride, one of the most self-destructive sins.

Melphael's smile quickly turns to a sneer, as his demanor goes from welcoming to threatningly cold.

"Be careful when using that tounge, woman. It has brought you here and it will bring to death. I was mearly offering a partnership, a rare commodity when in jail. In situations like these, it's best to fight alongside others, than by yourself. You have seen others sent to prison, have you not? How do you think most escape the hangman's noose? With allies. Pride has consumed many before it, and you will be no different than the rest if you don't control it.

As Sir Balin enters, Melphael raises his stance to full height. He looks on to Balin with the stare of a shark and does not blink. He becomes silent, waitng for the knight's move.

Etna smiles at Tkaara's retorts "Ma'am, there's no need to be so stiff. We're all on the same boat here, and we will gain nothing by being so antagonistic" as she says the last words, she quickly glances to the Doctor "But I believe you still didn't introduce yourself, Ma'am." Etna says as she turns back to Tkaara.

Etna's look turns grim as she hears Melphael's story "That's sickening. I can barely bear that one of my relatives is a traitor: I can barely imagine what is like to have your entire family betray you. But if you want to know what is my purpose..." Etna sighs "...what was my purpose: because I couldn't prove that she killed my father, I planned to take back all of the money that my mother inherited from my father, while making sure that she got caught up in illicit businesses to destroy her reputation. So, in an attempt that now I see was useless before this 'Court of Good', I studied the rules of the game, the laws of Talingrade. I studied every written word..." for the first time since she started talking, Etna's smile turns into a wicked grin "...and every unwritten word. By basing themselves on the assumption that everyone is fundamentally good, the laws of Talingrade are built upon pillars made of rotten wood. There are a myriad of holes, loopholes and everything you can imagine, as long as you look closely. So I exploited them." Etna's grin grows more and more wide "My mother took me as an advisor for the family's finances, and I invested the little part I had of the inheritance on Talingrade's businesses. I heard what people wanted in the deals, and I gave it to them. I skewered them in my favor with subtle wording, twisted what they said, and bent the laws without breaking them. In all these years, I didn't technically break a single law, thinking that it would have saved me." Etna's says, with pride clear in her voice, before turning grim again "But my mother found out. Maybe she knew all along, laughing at my toils. The court didn't care that I had broken not a single law, and deemed me guilty for all of the money that I 'stole', the evil deeds that I did, the families that I pushed on the verge of poverty, yadda yadda yadda...".
Etna sighs again, a resigned smile on her face "And so, here I am."

"There is so much self importance in this tiny little room -if a room it can be called- that it is quite the wonder we are not drowning in it," Erevan says, still pleasant, still conversational, but with perhaps a hint of sarcasm behind the words this time. As he speaks, he slowly but gracefully rises to his feet, his gaze turning to the room beyond the cell as he tries to get a better look at the new arrivals. He is curious; even though he has heard of Sir Balin, his usual endeavors did not fall under the purview of the inquisition, so he never had the "pleasure" of the man's acquaintance.

"So, that is the famous Sir Balin of Karfeld then," he remarks simply with mild interest as he studies the bearded knight. Other than that simple curiosity, there is no other emotion shown in relation to the inquisitor. "I cannot say we have ever crossed paths. Unpleasant, is he?"

Not one for pointless conflict, Hecate has not said anything during the various exchanges of 'ideas'; she smiles slightly at Erevan as he voices what she was thinking but didn't want to say.

She mutters in a low voice: "Sir Balin is - among other things - a famous witch-hunter. He arrested me in person, if you call breaking into someone's room while they're sleeping an arrest. He gave me this" - indicating the bruise on the side of her face - "for trying to escape. And he - or one of his cronies - killed my familiar, Fritz. He was a grey rat and all he was trying to do was cause a diversion..."

Hecate trails off. She can still recall the sickening feeling she experienced when her empathic link was so abruptly terminated.

Be careful elf. The First is lord of contracts, but in order to make a deal, you must have something to bargain with. A contract without consideration is no contract. It is merely two fools shaking hands.

Hecate frowns slightly, trying to remember something from her daily mealtime debates with her father and younger brother; "Not that it matters, but can a promise of future aid not serve as a present consideration? I seem to recall some case to that effect" She always hated those mealtime discussions, but is grateful for the distraction they provide here and now. Also, the unnamed woman is getting on her nerves.

The girl smiles slightly weakly at Melphael "I would gladly take an - informal - partnership agreement right now. What abilities do you have?"

"Do not give up hope, devilblood. You must suck it from those who have imprisoned you. You are smart, the frozen north is a prime tool for us. If we could united them under order, our order, we can be unstoppable. I belive the black prince had guided me to you, for nothing is by coincidence, epecially in our...special cases. Me with my skin and you...with everything else. Tell me how did such a fate befall you?"

I have shared a good bit with you already. After living in the wilderness for a bit and taking what I need from would be travelers, I found a group of like minded men. We were outcast. We used my military knowledge and hit some surrounding garrisons. Once we were equipped with what we needed we stockpiled the rest. We started to sneak weapons out past the wall and trade with the Goblinoids. One of the bugbear tribes spoke os some great leader that would take the watch wall. As they promised us a more lucrative deal, we gave into our greee and tried to fulfill it. Sir Balin just happened to guess the right place to be as he laid an ambush for us. The reset well, I'm in this cell now. Maybe we have been brought together for some reason, but such things are beyond my knowledge.

An ally, well that is at least one so far, and he seems to be educated which is good. Lets see how this moves forward.

This one stinks of pride, one of the most self-destructive sins.

Melphael's smile quickly turns to a sneer, as his demanor goes from welcoming to threatningly cold.

"Be careful when using that tounge, woman. It has brought you here and it will bring to death. I was mearly offering a partnership, a rare commodity when in jail. In situations like these, it's best to fight alongside others, than by yourself. You have seen others sent to prison, have you not? How do you think most escape the hangman's noose? With allies. Pride has consumed many before it, and you will be no different than the rest if you don't control it.

Tkaara returns the sneer with a cold look.

Then, deciding that the hatred and desperation shown by the pale elf and red man are not what will benefit her, she once more turns her attention back to the young girl.

Hecate frowns slightly, trying to remember something from her daily mealtime debates with her father and younger brother; "Not that it matters, but can a promise of future aid not serve as a present consideration? I seem to recall some case to that effect" She always hated those mealtime discussions, but is grateful for the distraction they provide here and now. Also, the unnamed woman is getting on her nerves.

You are correct, such a deal could be made. But, if you are speaking with a servant of the Prince of Laws, then you had better make sure that your deal is sealed and airtight. Otherwise, you are likely to find a dagger in your back before the "promise of future aid" must be meted out. Just remember, a contract is only as good as the holes another can poke in it.

Etna smiles at Tkaara's retorts "Ma'am, there's no need to be so stiff. We're all on the same boat here, and we will gain nothing by being so antagonistic" as she says the last words, she quickly glances to the Doctor "But I believe you still didn't introduce yourself, Ma'am." Etna says as she turns back to Tkaara.

Finally, Tkaara looks to the fiery haired woman.

I have spent many days in courtrooms of this land, usually in Gastenhall. Thus, as I explained, I am surprised that I have not seen any of you before. However, I have not been practicing for the past few weeks for . . . She rattles her chains. . . . obvious reasons.

As she says this, her lips form into the thin line of a smile as though she is recalling some amusing memory.
I had great success for many years. Then, in the past year, I found an easier way to succeed.

Once more, she licks her lips with her tongue, which shows the briefest glint of silver. When she speaks again, her tone has changed and become once more filled with a sarcastic edge.
Do you know how easy it is to manipulate a magistrate or jury? Having a silver tongue never hurts, But, sometimes there are those who desire a specific outcome of a trial, even if that result is not well supported by the evidence. Well, lets just say: I was found guilty of improperly manipulating the court. Truly, nothing I did was illegal. Of course this is mostly because the rules of court in this land have not been sufficiently detailed to make my actions illegal. Thus, those who desired for me to cease my actions, and make an example of me, had to pigeonhole my actions into another crime.

You asked why I am here. Well, I was found guilty of extortion. Apparently providing a Judge with some pleasurable memories, and then demanding certain rulings in court, is considered illegal. She rolls her eyes and gets a slightly distant look. I must say, they Judge was very happy last time I saw him.

Melphael raises an eyebrow to Paimon.

"Do not underestimate goblins, good sir. I have firsthand knowledge that their talents, when brought under a more...ordered, training, can be proven quite effective. Through my guidance, I created an effective killing force out of goblins who onced digged for peasent scraps. They can be quite tenacious in their efforts, and they are extremely expendable for people like us." Melphael reveals his pearly whites with a cheerful, yet sickening simile.

"I suppose we must all start somewhere. In a way it seems you are applying the same methods you used to entice yonder ankle biters to entice a few of us humble bottom feeders -- Hecate's compliance and Gabriel's not too subtle overture to fate being my primary sources evidence here."

He pauses for a moment, then attempts to head off any insulted replies. "Not to say we were all always bottom feeders. Alas, we are all waiting for people we do not know that worship a god we do not respect to hand us our fate. With bated breath we watch them as they watch us, hoping they do something just stupid enough to allow us escape. Is there no chance of escape? Is there no hope for revenge?I for one am not too happy to find my life in the hands of such a swarthy looking fellow with such unusually tawny hands... Oh my was I monologuing? I believe that was Put On The Costume. Such a wonderful opera by Ruggero. Chelish I believe." Looking out to Lord Balin, it is as if he had forgotten why he started talking.

He then hones back in on the conversation playing out before him, between Tkaara and -- well -- all comers really. Noticing her standing at her full height in their cell, he lets out a sigh and says forlornly "If only I could be so lucky."

Hecate nods good-naturedly at Paimon's jibe; she's pretty hard to rile. With a wry smile, she replies: "Right now, I'm not sure that I even class as a bottom-feeder: that would suggest that there's something below! No, I think we ALL must acknowledge that we've hit rock-bottom. We are what the bottom-feeders look down on..."

The young woman sighs. She's not normally this philosophical - maybe it's true that the prospect of a hanging concentrates the mind.

As the unnamed advocate and the pale-skinned elf debate the nature of contracts, Felrin listens with a mixture of concern and hope. Is it possible that I do not have a contract with the Dark Prince, that he holds nothing over me? Is it even imaginable that I made a deal with him where I come out ahead? But then, am I not his servant?

The petite scholar’s view, that the promise of future aid makes a contract valid, rings true with Felrin, and he feels both fear and a renewed conviction. My promise to serve Him, in exchange for his protecting me all these years, that is my ‘consideration,’ as the lawyers would have it. It means I am doomed to eternal punishment if I fail, but I DO have a contract with him.

Felrin gives the one called Erevan a sympathetic nod as he comments on the wealth of self-importance in their little cage, commenting quietly, ”It’s a wonder it can contain us all. Perhaps that’s how we get out, crashing the bars with the size of our egos…”

At Sir Balin’s entrance, Felrin goes quiet, having never seen the man. He studies him carefully, as is his habit, looking for any signs of weakness, strengths, even particular preferences of the man, to be able to use them should the opportunity arise. When he is satisfied he’s learned all he can from this awkward vantage, he returns to the quiet conversation in the cell, particularly the discussion between the elf and the demon-blooded warrior about family.

”My family did nothing,” he offers, ”but they suffered just the same. The Mitrans had determined my blood was tainted, and came to tear me from my home, to exorcise me, or kill me if they couldn’t do that. As my parents spoke to the priests, arguing to let me stay, I fled. When I returned some time later to see what had happened, I found my family home empty, and learned my parents had been imprisoned, and my mother executed as demon-spawn herself for having birthed me, my father condemned to the mines. Of my brother’s fate I know nothing, save that he vanished. Of course, all this was decades ago, so they are all dead by now.”

He pauses thoughtfully, and says, ”I feel some gratitude, having heard your tales, Etna and Melphael, for the fact that my family did me no harm. But that fact, that all they did was not turn on their own son, was enough for the Mitrans to condemn them. That is why I want them brought low, why I wish them destroyed and their self-serving ‘justice’ undone.”

Sir Balin walks over to the cell that is holding each of you, his eyes scan the cell as if looking for someone in particular. Sir Balin makes eye contact with each one of you, his face cold, calculating and expressionless. He then meets the gaze of Hecatae and for an instant you could almost see the corners of his mouth curl upward a little and his demeanor soften if ever so slightly. He then makes his way around the cell to stand behind her. He reaches a hand into the cell and cusp the back of her head ever so slightly, almost tenderly running his fingers through her hair as he does this, a full on smile coming across his face. Then as she begins to pull away he grabs a handful and jerks her head back and turns it so he can see the yellowish black discolored bruise on her check. Hecate gasp under the painful and forceful grip. "Such beauty, and such innocence." his gaze lingers a moment looking directly into her eyes. "All of it twisted and wasted and polluted by the search for dark and forbidden knowledge." he releases his grip slightly but still holds her head by her hair.

He then reaches out and touches Hecatae softly on her cheek as a tingly feeling of energy surges through her being as her wounds and bruises are no more. He caresses Hecatae's cheek gently as the bruise fades.

Paimon watches the ordeal with more than a little interest, but will politely look away as Hecate undresses.

Before Etna can express her disgust for Tkaara's methods, her surprise to the good taste in Drama of Paimon, or comment on his and Hecate's philosophical musing, Sir Balin barges in.

Never having seen the man, Etna fixes her eyes on him, trying to discern his intentions.

Tkaara watches the famed inquisitor in disgust as he plays with Hecate as one might a puppy. As Tkaara does, she thinks back to several cases in which she represented individuals arrested by Sir Balin. Yes, most were guilty, but in several the master sleuth was unable to sustain his burden and the convicted had been set free.

She then looks about the room wondering whether the same is true of any of those chained in the cell with her. Are any of them truly innocent? Not that it really matters, once before the Royal Court, guilt is no longer important. All that matters is the will of the King.

As Gabriel mentions Sir Balin, a sneer folds over Melphael's face.

"So...that self-righteous bastard got to you too? Alas, he was my captor as well, caught me along the northern border, I was headed to the savage north, to gather arms against the Mitran scum, much like yourself. He was lucky I was outnumberd, or else that fool would not be alive right now...or intact." he says. The pale elf sighs and begins to crack his sore knuckles, they pop satisfyingly, a small pleasure Melphael has right now.

"After I slaughtered that entire villaige, I suppose it would've been a matter of time before they sent him after me..." he finishes. Melphael suddenly grows silent, he looks down at his freshly cracked hands, as if pondering his entire life within a few seconds. He looks back up at the red-skinned man. Perhaps an alliance of red and white may be a sign of what is to come.

The red blood must flow from the necks of all who oppose Asmodeus, leaving only pale corpses of the fallen, as the Black Prince shall take hold of Talingarde.

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A smile slithers across Melphael's lips as Paimon conculdes his observations of the pale elf's methods of alliances.

"Well...In my experiences I've found that a single wolf cannot kill a bear; it takes a pack to get the job done. So, in horrid situations such as ours, make friends. Tiss the best way to improve each others safety when in numbers. And judging by what everyone here has said, we all have a bone or two to pick with our current captors...some more than others...

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Melphael's cold gaze toward Tkaara, quickly switches back to the welcoming smile, as his head swivels to meet Hecate.

"Alliances can last for a few minutes, to a few centuries. People in my line of work prefer the latter kind. Contracts are indeed my trade, and what I have to offer may intrest you. You speak with a servant of hell my dear, and it's protection can be quite effective. Plus, the more favored servents are granted boons, I happen to have such gifts. I could share some with you, should the situation arise. But before I can offer my services, due to an alliance being a mutual agreement, what can you offer, my dear?"

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Melphael nods grimmly at Felrin's tale.

"A family's love can be quite strong, even in the face of death...if only my father held such convictions... you have my sympathy. It would appear that the inquisition has a horrid little habit of killing mothers. Tiss always the nature of Mitrans to destroy that which they don't understand, a disease that must be expunged from this world. If only we could be free of this prison, then we could rally a great force, and, under the watchful eyes of the Lord of the 9th, wipe out this Mitran cancer."

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Melphael watched the witch-hunter pet Hecate with great curiosity.

The way he treats her...perhaps she is more useful than I thought.

Suddenly, he see's Balin heal the girl's wounds, his suspicions rise to greater heights as to what intentions does this self proclaimed wretch have towards Hecate. This is not the man who captured him, this was someone else.

Hecate shudders as Sir Balin looks directly into her eyes, before wandering behind her. Her reflexes are noticeably, abnormally, slow and as he grasps her she doesn't react in time, stumbling clumsily. For a second, all that supports her are the shackles - and Sir Balin's grasp on her hair. Her gasp of pain and surprise is clearly audible.

She listens to his tirade, mute and unresponsive. His colossal self-belief makes reason pointless even to try; he's the sort that prolongs the suffering of the weak and unworthy by trying to help them, just so he can feel good about himself and his god. He doesn't - can't - won't - see that the truly merciful approach is to let the weak fall, so that the strong can prosper.

All of these thoughts flash through her mind as she waits, interminably, for him to release her from his grasp. She cringes at his touch, even as it heals her face. "Nice trick - can you restore Fritz to life...?" she mutters under her breath.

She nods, silently, at his instructions, giving her agreement. She will do nothing to provoke him, or the guards. "Am I to undress in public?" she asks, dully. She - almost - no longer cares what further indignities are visited on her. Almost. Another, more significant, part of her is keeping a score; if she gets a chance, she will repay them in full - and with interest.

Sir Balin ignores Hecate muttering under her breath or perhaps he just didn't hear her and so he continues "I tell you that I have not judged anyone. Mortals like to think that what they do in secret they cannot be judged for. But the judgement of the truth is clear and its light shines into the darkest hole. We have all been judged, I am not at fault if you think you can hide from your judgement. The fool says, “If I am strong, then it is my right. For by strength alone is any act done and good and evil are just myths in which I do not believe!” Good and evil are not myths. Truth is a mountain. At the top is good, rare and beauteous. At the bottom is evil, lost in shadow. The fool says “Who cares what is top and what is bottom? I refuse to climb the mountain. I will do as I please, do what is easiest, and go down the mountain.” I cannot stop your downward climb, but neither can I believe you when you say the view from the bottom is the same as at the top."

Sir Balin then waits for Hecate to get dressed.

Etna watches interested Sir Balin as he delivers his speech. She smiles briefly at some of Balin's words.
I have to say: his interest for Hecate still appears odd at best, but at least I know that he is a dedicated man. Why, his words are the same that cousin Eremin would say, if he didn't have the bad habit of expressing himself in monosyllables.
Poor fools. It's true that Evil and Good are not myths, but he mixes up everything else. The Truth is not good: the Truth are simply the laws and rules of the universe. The rain always falls downwards, up can't be also down, and the wolf will never live peacefully with the sheep. They are not somewhere, they don't coincide with good or something else: they are simply there.
And he-they don't realize that those that follow them up the slopes with the intent to reach the top are few and far between: most just stand in the middle, not caring where they go. It's on them that he should focus his 'fire of truth': the ones on the top and in the deepest reaches of bottom are there because they believe, they desire to be there. They're the only ones worth of respect...
Etna's musings are interrupted by the mention of food "Breakfast? What are they planning?"
What is the meaning of this?

The Doctor watches Balin intently, cataloging his every move, his every subtle expression and nuance. If one were to pay close attention, one would come to the conclusion that he somehow was seeing the interplay of the paladin's muscles and sinew beneath the unnecessary flesh.

One day I hope to have this man under my scalpel. I believe I will allow the young woman a turn, teach her how to remove his heart, should the opportunity arise. A reckoning is due, Sir Balin.

"I recognize you now," he says aloud, his tone almost conversational. So, you are the famous Sir Balin. How is your man? Not the one who took my blade in the eye, I watched that one die, but the one whose carotid I severed. Does he live? Did you manage to heal him in time, or did he bleed his last on my laboratory floor? Watching a man die is such an extrordinarilly educational experience, wouldn't you agree, Sir Balin?"

Gabriel watches on as Balin plays his little game with Hecate. As he clenches and pulls her hair.

If you want to pick on someone knight, take it out on me. Leave the girl alone.

We sits and listens as Balin preaches to each of them as well. After he hears the Doctors words cutting at the man as if just another tool for the Doctor to use.

Forget that man, at least he didn't have to hear this self righteous load of s~&! we all just did. I mean don't you have laws against torture. Or is it that your the executioner sent here to boar us all to killing ourselves. That must be it.

Well that may earn me a beating, maybe the doctor too. The others will view us as foolish or dumb, but I don't have anything else to loose besides my life and that seems not my own now anyways.

Hearing the words come from the cell Sir Balin looks up at Ottakar and walks over to the cell while he waits for Hecate to dress "Oh yes, well if it isn't the good doctor.' he says while looking around at his cellmates.

"I do suppose you told them how you like to play with dead things? Cadavers? How you like to prey on young women of the night and do horrible experiments on them? Yes?" he says with a smirk.

Now addressing everyone else "I suppose the good doctor failed to tell all of you this because he lured all his victims to his laboratory with lies and promises just to get them alone so he could gut them like laboratory animals. I suppose even now he is sizing each one of you up for an experiment as well."

Turning back toward Ottakar "I suppose that your own wife turning you in to the authorities didn't help much. You should have seen what you did to her. How broken hearted she was when she found out that you were a murdering monster. How you grew to love the women of the night more than your own wife? But perhaps you can explain to her yourself good doctor. You see I have made sure she was invited to our little appearance before the king today. If the king chooses you for the hangman's noose then she will also get to watch you die."

Sir Balin's patience tires with the doctor, "Oh and while this nice girl here," jestering toward Hecate "may still have a chance for redemption of her soul, I can rest assured knowing that you good doctor, will burn in the pits of hell for what you have done."

Sir Balin then calmly walks over to the bars and reaches through and touches Gabriel with his healing energies, the opposite happens to the red man. His skin burns and blisters where Sir Balin touches him on his back, leaving a hand-print as he pulls his arm back from the bars.

"A memento of the occasion for you demon. It will give you something to remember me by."

Sir Balin then walks over to the knights and whispers something in one of their ears. Then he continues to wait for Hecate ignoring any further comments from the cell.

"Everything I did was in the name of science, the pursuit of knowledge. I did not torture them, did not taunt them as you do us, did not brand them as you just did to Gabriel. Their lives were taken for purpose of learning, for knowledge that might help everyone. You call my work 'play' and 'horrible' because you lack the mental capacity to see the larger picture."

He continues to watch Sir Balin levelly, speaking to the man he knows is ignoring him. "As for the fact that some of my subjects were prostitutes, that is in no way a reflection on my dedication to my marriage. I never once touched any of them in an unclean manner. Never looked upon them as you now leer at Hecate. I know my wife loves me even now, and hope one day she understands that what I did, I did for her. I hope one day to deliver her from the reach of hypocrites such as you."

He looks to Hecate, sees her fear and hesitation. "Be strong, Fraulein. These fools would intimidate you with threats of punishment in this life and after, all to get you to believe the greatest lie of them all: that ignorance is holy. That knowledge is not worth seeking, no matter the cost. Do not let them change what you know to be true. This worm is beneath your notice."

As the doctor ranted and tried to justify his case for slicing open subjects while they were still alive Balin remembered the night that they had broken down that sound proof room in the doctors basement. The good doctor has a woman on the table, couldn't have been more than in her early twenties and he had just removed her heart while it was still beating. Having used no anesthetic before hand because he was curious to how the body reacted to the electrical impulses of something. It was to much for Sir Balin to comprehend, but what he could comprehend was the ever present look of shock and utter pain forever burned into her face as the woman on the table watched herself die without a heart.

Sir Balin thought silently, “All human beings, as we meet them, are commingled out of good and evil: and Doctor Ottakar Wilken, alone, in the ranks of mankind, was pure evil.”

Tkaara smiled as she realized that the insane doctor had struck a nerve on the inquisitor. Hoping to draw further unconscious reaction from the man, she decided to add some taunting of her own.
Come now Inquisitor, you should know by now that the dictum you espouse is nothing by the teaching of a tyrannical church. How many have you brought before the courts over the years that were proven to not be guilty. What about the youth you brought in for raping the minister's daughter last year? I proved that your "evidence" was nothing more than rumors and fanciful imaginations of your witnesses. Or the so called witch you brought in? Did I not prove that she was nothing more than a hermit who the villagers feared for no reason other than that she wished to be left alone?
As she finishes this, she tosses her head to clear the hair which had fallen over her eyes. As she does so, sweat is readily apparent on her forehead showing that the act of standing at full height with her head raised is taking more than a little of her inner fortitude to accomplish.

You speak of good and evil. Is not the branding you just used against an unarmed and secured prisoner far more evil than the thief who steals bread from a poor family? At least the family could then go and beg for food from others, including your own church. The prisoner on the other hand cannot even begin to defend himself other than by screaming in pain. You say that stealing to feed the poor is excusable, while stealing that causes harm to the weak is evil. But, what is the difference? You don't know do you because your job has never been to ask why. All you and your church care about is merely subjugating the proletariat by kidnapping those you consider unfit for the worship of Mitra, and then dragging them into the courts, where most have not the slightest clue how to defend themselves.

I hope you and your so called good deity enjoy your antics. Some day your insanity will be proven. Some day, you will make a mistake as I did and then you will find these manacles around your own wrists. You will be the one at whom rotten tomatoes are thrown.

By this point, the color in Tkaara's face has changed to a bright red as her sarcastic ire has clearly gotten the best of her.
So great inquisitor. Enjoy playing your games. I wish you luck in continuing to draw a pall over your pathetic games, so that you and your self serving antics do not draw the notice of the King. I hear that when one catches the royal eye, frequently the one caught is used to frighten the public into submission. I bet the hanging of the fallen Sir Balin would be the best attended show of the year, possibly of ever.

Not withstanding the bombardment from the barrister Sir Balin lashes out "Isn't it enough that you have already been proven to have used your body in a sinful act to persuade a judge to change his ruling? Is it not been proven that you manipulate the system by being a second class whore? It is because of your sins that the guilty have went free. Not because they were innocent but because you were filthy. Dirty. Degenerate. A DRUG ADDICT!"

Trying to hold back his temper now Balin's face goes flush with anger "For it is you that brings disgrace to the system! It is you one have proven yourself unclean! It is you they has taken up the ways of the wicked! AND IT IS YOU who will burn for it!"

Calming himself, his voice returns to a more normal tone.
Hear my words, and bear witness to my vow.
Day gathers, and now my watch begins.
It shall not end until my death.
I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children.
I shall wear no crowns and win no glory.
I shall live and die at my post.
I am the sword in the darkness.
I am the watcher on the walls.
I am the fire that burns against the cold,
the light that brings the dawn,
the horn that wakes the sleepers,
the shield that guards the realms of men.
I pledge my life and honor to Talingarde's Watch,
for this day and all the days to come."

Turning now to his men, "Bring them to their last meal in fifteen minutes!"

And Sir Balin storms out of the hall, as soon as Hecate is dressed she is placed back into the cell with the rest of you.

Smiling, Tkaara turns to Etna chained next to her:
It is too easy getting that one's goat. Ah, to have had more time to set him up for a fall would have been so pleasurable.

Doctor Wilkin nods to Tkaara. "Good work, barrister. An angry man is a man prone to making mistakes. Or killing us all. In a situation such as ours, however, one must take chances."

OFFICIAL PHASE THREE KICKOFF IS UPON US!!
Scene One: The Prisoners Last Meal.

The twelve knights release one of you from the cell, then remove your manacles and allow you to change clothes and get dressed then they replace your manacles and then remove your leg irons so that you can do your bottom half. Everyone gets use of the privacy screen. When you are done they replace your leg irons and put you back into the cage and then choose another until everyone in the cage has changed.

Once that task is complete they lead you out of the hall with the cell and across a small courtyard and into what looks like the castles servants mess hall. The long tables and benches have been equipped with long chains, you are each placed on a bench and your leg irons secured to the chain on the bench. This allows you to be seated at the table with your manacled hands in front of you with freedom of movement except with your wrist being bound.

On the table before each of you is a cup of chilled water, a hearty plate of food consisting of roasted pig, eggs and what looks to be some type of stewed vegetables. The food is served on some type of platter made from a thin gourd and your eating utensil looks to be the same. Probably so you can not fashion a weapon out of either.

This room is much bigger than the hall that you were in earlier but their are over twenty knights stationed here around the walls. You do not see Sir Balin but you are sure he is close by somewhere. The knights being further away allow for you to have more freedom to talk without being overheard.

Ottakar eats mechanically, constantly scanning his surroundings and fellow prisoners. He eats the eggs and vegetables, but conspicuously leaves the meat.

Not too late... Sir Balin's words sear Hecate, though she does her best not to show it. Can she really turn back, be restored? Will they accept her back at the Academy?

Then, as he continues, the girl realises that he's talking about the soul. So they're still going to kill her, just for seeking knowledge. Her sudden anger catches her by surprise, but is mostly directed at herself, for now. Stupid girl, hoping for mercy! What were you expecting from him?

As she gets dressed in private (shoes! She hadn't realised how cold her feet were getting) Hecate hears the others engage with the paladin. The exchange with Doctor Wilken interests her the most; anatomy and healing weren't part of her studies - probably just as well she wasn't given an opportunity with the scalpel, given her clumsiness, she is honest enough to admit.

As they all enter the hall, she moves to sit next to him. "Thank you for your words just now, Herr Doktor; I must admit that I nearly faltered at his speech - I d- don't want to die. But I do not regret seeking knowledge, and if that is a crime then I am guilty."

Etna watches Sir Balin as he leaves the room, then turning to Tkaara "Oh, a shame. I wanted to ask him if he could give my farewells to my cousin. He probably wouldn't even have talked to me, seeing how much he played favorites. Well, no matter."

Etna follows the directions without questions, but as they're brought to the dining chamber she turns again to Tkaara. "By the way, is what that inquisitor said true? Drugs and sexual favors? I'm in no position to talk, but doesn't that seem to you a little...degrading? Taking the easy way out?" Etna will say to the blonde woman, trying to hide her revulsion for Tkaara's methods.
I thought that this colleague of mine was sharp but...Pah! Some people really have no respect for themselves!

When they arrive at the table, Etna only drinks the cup of water. "Don't you think it's a waste, to serve a full meal to men and women that are going to die in days?" Etna asks to no one in particular, turning the cup in her hands. "Maybe it's still Sir Balin trying to impress you, Hecate!" she says to the young woman jokingly, trying to cheer her up, before turning serious again " I jest, but how did manage not to jump at his throat there? He really has nerves, to first beat a girl and then heal her to look good!"
I have to say, his speech (and his dislike for the doctor and the drug addict) was understandable, but Balin's attitude toward Hecate was disgusting.

The Doctor speaks quietly to the girl beside him. "No thanks are necessary, Fraulein, for I spoke only truth. The quest for knowledge, especially in the face of those who would stifle it, is a thing to be admired."

He looks pained for a moment, then continues. "The buffoon was right about one thing, however; of all of us here, you may stand the best chance of convincing the Mitrans to show mercy. There is no need for you to die over what you have done. Pretend to be contrite. Tell them you have learned your lesson. They may yet live, and be allowed to return to your studies, albeit likely under close scrutiny. Perhaps you could move to another part of Avistan, escape the reach of the Mitrans altogether...

He sighs softly. It is almost a certainty that I will die here. I know that I am not an easy man to get along with, but you seem to have been able to look past that, probably because you respect intellect more than pretty words and empty gestures. I know that I have no right, but I would ask a small boon of you. Should you live, should you gain your freedom, there is a half-elven woman living in Ghastenhall named Talia Elandris. She is my wife. If Balin is to be believed, you may catch glimpse of her in the court this day. I ask this simple favor, if I die and you do not: find her, and tell her that I loved her to the last. Will you do this for me, if you are able?

Gabriel grits his teeth as Balin’s hand burns into his back. As he removes his hand Gabriel slumps for a moment before regaining his strength and compsure.

I will have my revenge on you knight. I don’t know how or when, but if not killed this day know that I am your harbinger of death.
He watches and listens as Tkaara gets to the man. As he lashes out in anger Gabriel gives a hearty chuckle.

Careful knight. You wouldn’t want to do something Evil here. He laughs more.

As they enter to dine he takes a seat next to Tkaara.

You are gifted with words and have the power to manipulate men with them. I am impressed. I wish to be your friend if you’re looking for such. I mean friendship is all we have at this point.

He looks across the table as the doctor speaks with Hecate.

I wouldn’t have pegged you for the romantic type there doctor. Maybe there is a man in there after all. I am working on a plan, it is best not to talk about it here. Stay alive and maybe you can tell her yourself how much you love her.

Gabriel eats and drinks knowing this may be some of the last food and drink they get, and he will need his strength for what lies ahead.

Lets see a doctor, a couple law experts, a couple magic wielders. What other muscle is there? Felrin maybe and Erevan, better not plan too much until I know who will still live. For all I know I will be the one executed this day.

"Silver tongue is a hell of a drug." Paimon says to Etna, in defense of Tkaara. "I've seen people do much worse to slake thirsts that could not be slaked, or abate hungers that could not be abated. It is an awful path to walk down. Humiliation is not unheard of among its users."

He had remained largely silent during the back and forth between various tenants of the cell and Sir Balin. Paimon, unfortunately, had nothing against the man personally though if he could he would have applauded the man's performance. He even imagined himself as Sir Bralin, taller and handsomer, delivering those same words with something resembling conviction. Beyong that, he was happy to leave his cell and stand at his full height once again. Avoiding sudden movements, he stretched his limbs, popping muscles that had long become settled in the cell.

As he sits down, looking at the food in front of him he becomes slightly giddy. Having not had anything but moldy bread for three stinking days. "This is my body, this is my blood, happy are they who come to my supper!" he says, channeling another playwright. He holds up a piece of ham and his cold water and hesitates not. "Even if this were poisoned, it would be a damned fine meal to go out on."

"Silver Tongue...ah, now I get it!" Etna exclaim as she realize the cause of the strange coloration of Tkaara's tongue. "Still, Drugs always seemed to me like an unwise investment. You barter a momentary pleasure or rush for future health and time. I can't really see why someone would want a bargain like that." she muses.

"You are really an enigma, Paimon." Etna says to the one-quarter-orc, while she keeps playing around with the cup of water "You said you was known as the Fool, that when they captured you for the worship of the 'Midnight Lord' (of whom I do not know anything) they took away your 'mortal instruments', you look like you could snap the neck of any of us with two of your fingers, you have knowledge of drugs, and surprisingly really good taste in Drama." She pauses for a moment to pick up warily a piece of stewed vegetable "You must really have had an interesting life, even if I can't figure for the life of me how it could have been like ." she concludes with a chuckle.

Tkaara continues to smile to herself as she is lead to the changing area. When she returns, she scowls.
Bah, these are barely better than rags. At least what I was wearing before showed some evidence of a well cultured and socially adept lady. These? I have seen destitute beggars wearing better.

Etna follows the directions without questions, but as they're brought to the dining chamber she turns again to Tkaara. [b]"By the way, is what that inquisitor said true? Drugs and sexual favors? I'm in no position to talk, but doesn't that seem to you a little...degrading? Taking the easy way out?" Etna will say to the blonde woman, trying to hide her revulsion for Tkaara's methods.
I thought that this colleague of mine was sharp but...Pah! Some people really have no respect for themselves!

After being led to the meal table and hearing Etna's question, Tkaara eyes sparkle and an evil grin appears on her lips.

She then nods her head in the direction of the not-so-good doctor: Although he apparently found ways to use Gastenhall ladies for less savory purposes, I found that many were willing to participate in my scheme. I was not in any way a lady for hire. If a title needs be placed on what I did, perhaps Madame is more appropriate.

She grins once more. Oh, and the magistrate. Lets just say that although he thinks it was me, the lady the lady that pleasured him was twice my age and likely had more diseases than even the doctor knew existed.

Having been seated, Tkaara carefully arranges the "silverware" and organizes her plate before daintily attempting to cut the food into small bites which she eats one at a time, dabbing her face with the rag that makes due for a napkin in between each bite. After several bites, she turns back to Etna.
As far as the drugs go, are they truly the easy way out? Look at the great inquisitor, wearing his shell of metal to protect him. Using magical powers to heal himself. Is this not just as easy? If he didn't want the easy way out, would he not be fighting monsters with his fists and a bare chest?

Once more she licks her lips, the telltale signs of silver clearly evident:
For twelve years, beginning when I was sixteen, I worked as a barrister. First as an apprentice, and when my mentor died, as a full barrister. During that time, I never touched drugs. I never slept with anyone to gain an advantage.

Tkaara takes another bite, savoring the taste as she considers how to proceed.
Then, a year ago, my health began to fail. I do not know why. Neither the Mitran clerics, nor doctors such as our friend across the table, could determine the cause of my illness. First, it was a draining of my energy. Then, I began to have a continuous illness. It was not sufficient to disable me, but more like a nagging cold. It drained me, gave me a cough as you saw when I was first led in. I paid good money to determine the cause, but none helped. Then, one alchemist I worked with on a prior matter told me of of something called Honeydust. He said it was a drug and generally frowned upon in this land, but that it might help sharpen my tongue in court. Well, let me tell you, it more than helped. It was like a wonder cure. It indeed made presenting my case much easier, but more amazing, it cured my illness. I was still drained of energy, but the cough, the stuffed nose, the intermittent chills, they all went away.

I tried to avoid using the substance, but it felt so much better to not be sick. So, I purchased more honeydust from the alchemist. After a time, he refused to sell more. Well, I was a barrister. I had represented many unsavory clients over the years, and represented them honestly, unlike what the inquisitor might claim. I contacted several of them and over the past six months have had a steady supply of cures for my uncommon cold. Unfortunately, most who sell these cures in this land do not deal on credit and demand payment upfront. As a barrister, I made a good living, but not enough for the cost of these less than legal cures. So, I began to find alternative methods of obtaining funds. One of the easiest is to find out which side in a case is willing to pay the most to win, even if it is not my case, and then create a plan to guaranty that result. Which, brings us back to the inquisitor's blind accusation of me being a lady for hire. I found that using sexual favors, even if it was not me, to sway a juror's vote, a magistrate's ruling, or a witness's testimony was very easy.

------
With that she turns back to her vegetables, taking several small bites before responding to the statement by Paimon.
Yes, the drug unfortunately leaves a rather telltale sign of its use behind. No doubt it can be gotten rid of with sufficient resources. Unfortunately, I was not born into the noble lap of luxury, so I have not been able to eliminate all evidence of my usage. Undoubtedly one of the things that lead to my eventual discovery.

------
Finally, she nods to Gabriel:
Only time will tell. But, I agree that friends are always useful and I will not turn down any offers for help. However, I do not think that this is either the time or place for such discussions. With all these alert guards, an attempt at escape would be more than foolhardy. It would be suicidal.

With luck most of us will survive the royal sentencing and then there might be hope.

Amestri had been sitting silently in the cell, her legs together, knees to one side, almost proper and one gets the sense that were her hands not hanging above her, they would be sitting clasped demurely in her lap. The redhead's pale beauty was marred only by her aloof almost arrogant countenance, something seen on the face of many a noblewoman. It seemed that her pose and features were an unconscious as if years of training and living a certain way had them became natural for her. Strangely enough, if she was indeed a noblewoman, was the fact that her attire was nothing but an undertunic one would typically see worn under heavier armor. The padding itself was torn, seemingly deliberately, and crudely resewn such that it better fit her lithe form.

I cannot believe I was placed in a cell with these ne'er-do-wells. Is my father trying to make a point by having them place me here instead of within my own cell? At least I was 'worthy' enough for the Royal Court. Amestri tried to keep her face a studied mask, but her haughty sneer deepened on the more vulgar topics while, on the other hand, her ears seemed to perk and she tilded her head slightly towards the speaker at the mentions of Asmodeus before turning away again to regain her neutral visage. There are followers of Asmodeus here? I do hope Ostarian is well. He is a good man after all, that helped me find Eiseth, and get my just revenge..., her mouth turned downwards in a quick frown, or almost...

Her head swivelled to view the linens presented before the group, studiously ignoring the servant. Having satisfied herself that the clothing was sufficient, although not what she was used to, she turned away again, looking off into nothing. When the guard approached and mentioned that one of them would be hung this very day, a shiver rippled through her. Is this what my father has in mind for me? Publicly executed for all to see? To prove that the head of House Atezadeh still has clout?

At the entrance of Sir Balin and his knights, Amestri's face became almost wistful, a memory seeming to flash through her mind Ahh, my Lucien... She wrests control of her features once again and, seeing that the knight was approaching, deigned to stand. Rather than an awkward movement to stand from her demure position, she instead used her arms to pull herself into the air and allow her legs to come beneath her so she could stand proudly. The play of muscles across her back and through her arms gave lie to any previous assumption that the woman was a typical unassuming and cultured noblewoman.

Rage flashed in her eyes as the 'paladin' spoke of his code. She clearly wanted to rage and shout out at the man, but her emotions were too deep for her, leaving her shaking in her fury. What of Lucian? What of love? Where was your 'good' when he was forced from my side? The knight was gone by the time she had willed herself to calmness. She was back to her stoic aloof self, after having changed and sitting at the table with the grand meal spread before them. Still, there was a sullen cast to her features as she ate.

Gabriel leans over to whipser to Tkaara.

Don't worry dear the plan is not to escape here. I'm no full even though that my be the conclusion you came to. If the others underestimate me this way as well it was because I intended it to be as such.

He sits back up in his chair with a smile. He continues to eat his meal.

Hecate, I am sorry that you were treated poorly. If Balin wanted to make and example to us he should have used me. It shows his weaknes he would choose one such as you.

Gabrile looks to Hecate with eyes that show careing behind them. Its not in a lustful manner, but more of a brother looking to a sister.

Glancing at Tkaara and arching an eyebrow, Dr. Wilken responds to her comment. "It is of little consequence to me if you do not like me; most people don't, and that is perfectly acceptable, as most people are idiots. Do not, however, presume to judge me or my work. The specimens I collected were filthy. Diseased. Cast out, and likely not long for this world. I practiced for years, and it is because I was discreet and took only the dregs of society that I managed to remain hidden for so long. I am neither degenerate, nor wasteful. As for this illness you speak of, that is exactly the sort of affliction that I had in mind, exactly the reason that I conducted my research in the first place. There are illnesses that magic does not heal, maladies that science does not yet understand. Given time and knowledge, I might be able to cure you, to create a drug with little or no side effects that would allow you to live a healthy life. Would that not be worth the lives of a few wretched, vermin-infested cast-offs to you?"

Felrin listens quietly while Hecate and Doctor Ottokar speak, the girl thanking the doctor for his support, and the doctor offering grace and kindness in return. They lock us up and call us criminals, yet we can honor each other even in such a place. We have all done what we know to be right, pursued goals we believed in just as much as this Sir Balin believes in his own. Yet we are branded and cast into cells, while they are free to bring judgment down on those who differ from them! They will pay one day…

His attention drawn to the unattended meat on the doctor’s plate across the table, Felrin lifts one of his strange-looking hands and says, ”If you’re not eating that, may I? Sometimes when I’m…changing…I get very hungry.” As he reaches across the table, an observant eye might notice that the odd bony bumps and ridges on his hand and arm seem to have shifted somehow, to perhaps even be moving into new forms right now.

”May I ask you a question, doctor?” Felrin says, doing his best to eat with some decorum in spite of his ravenous hunger. ”It’s clear you have studied the inner workings of people’s bodies, and done so with real dedication. I have spent almost a century studying their motivations, their fears, weaknesses, and blind spots. I’ve done this in order to protect myself, but also with dreams of one day using what I’ve learned against them, though it will be a challenge to do so from within a cell.”

”In any case,” Felrin continues, licking a wayward drop of meat juice off his chin with an unusually long, slender tongue that seems to be faintly striped in purple, ”it seems to me our studies might complement each other, as each of us has inquired into different aspects of the inner workings of people, you into their hearts and brains, I into their hearts and minds. But let me get to my question: in your research, have found any part of the body, some small knob in the brain or a chamber in the heart, that makes them act as they do? Does the nature of a given person reside somewhere in their body? And, perhaps more usefully, could that little bit of flesh be snipped, or cut out, to change them?”

He pauses a moment to make sure the doctor is not disgusted by the notion, then shakes his head, I believe little would give this man pause, which is a good thing indeed. ”Do you see my intent here? We rail against the way the Mitrans act, the judgment and the righteousness, the declarations of their holy goodness…is there a way to take that out of them with your surgeon’s razor…or with my teeth?” As he finishes his question, Felrin bares his teeth and a feral look comes into his eye before he calms himself with a grunt of effort, going quiet again to see what Ottokar has to say.

For just a moment, as the strange man reaches for the meat on his plate, the Doctor's eyes seem to change from palest blue to blazing gold. It is gone so quickly that it may very well have been a trick of the light, however. "Of course. I... do not enjoy the taste of meat."

He listens to Felrin's questions, the look on his face akin to the one worn by someone indulging an idiot child. "There is a technique that involves destroying a small portion of the brain that will render a person no more intelligent than a base creature, referred to as a lobotomy. Other than that, no, I have not found any way to surgically change someone's personality."

He leans in a bit, looking intently at the man across the table. "Now I wish to know: what did you mean by changing?" His nostrils flair as if he is smelling something carefully. "You possess the blood of fiends, obviously. Does this bring on some form of uncontrolled transformation?"

Tkaara smiles back across the table at the doctor.
I do not know what you did, and did not seek to judge you. I was simply restating that which you said. None can dispute that in this land, using living beings as test subject to whom great pain is inflicted is not considered good or lawful. And, as I indicated, those same disease ridden women, although likely unable to obtain any work on their own, were quite happy assisting me in my endeavors.

However, I would be more than interested in your studies of those substances which can alter the mind and body without the usual necessary magical component. You claim you would be able to create drugs which would provide the benefit, but not the side effects, of such medicines as Honeydust and Silvertongue? How would you do this? And if it can so easily be done, why has someone else not done this before? There are many nations in Golarian which would happily support such research, Geb, Nex, Cheliax, Nidal just to name a few. The Mitrans may attempt to create a theocratic monarchy on this island, but as is clear from those sitting with us, even the tightest of grips cannot keep out the slow creep of knowledge. So, if this wonder drug you speak of can be made, why is it not available here in Talingarde?