You know well by now thay cheap hands can be hired on the dock, good hands can be hired through the Guild, but the best can be hired at the right taverns: The Rusty Scabbard, the Cozy Badger, and the Wren's Tears.
Perrin glares at the pot, responding to Mel without looking her way. "No. Ev's being controlled. Like a puppet on strings. She wouldn't be doing this if she had a choice." Then his voice changes, sounding almost like the rumbling from the pot, but muffled and without recognizable words.
The voice from the pot replies in kind.
"Oh I have? Really? I didn't know that... Well since I've had my fun I should run along now..."
Then Ev squeaks and chirps in distress.
Mel shudders a bit, clinging to her holy symbol like a drowning woman might cling to a life line. "Perrin ... why do you think your master would give her a choice?" she says. "If it suited his purposes to use her like a puppet, he would. He has."
”Right. Fookin’ hell, is the lass possessed? Is there a demon in there?” Kazador scratcher his head. ”So...what now? Is this like a spell then? I could try to end any magic happening in there. Couldn’t hurt, right?”
That's new, he notes, looking at the tavern's sign. Been a while since I've been this way. To be fair, the The Wren's Tears has much better food. The stuff is god-tier. Nice sign, hm? he subvocalizes.
Aye, the voice in his head replies. 'Tis a right nice sign, 'tis. I've always had a wee bit o' a soft spot in me heart for badgers, I 'ave, 'n th' cozier th' better, says I.
Indeed, Muse agrees.
The captain adjusts his epoch-stained hat as he clomps into the inn. His appearance wasn't carefully calculated to turn heads, but Muse wasn't exactly disappointed when things turned out that way. It's useful to be immediately recognizable, if you're good at what you do.
Captain Muse either never heard the phrase 'unity of theme' or he must have decided it didn't apply to him; no part of his ensemble 'goes with' any other part of it; from his muddy worn out clompy boots, to the snazzy white and gold coat he deigned to wear as a cape, to his weatherworn outdated hat, to his overstuffed pockets bags and pouches, to the trinkets he collected on his world travels and bedecked himself in. And yet, taken all together, all the odds and ends seem to fit together, become one whole made of disparate pieces.
Eminently comfortable in his own skin, Brolin clomps up to the bar in the manner of someone who enjoys hearing their own feet hitting the ground.
"McHenry, isn't it? I'm Captain Muse," he extends a hand to shake, "and I'm needing something to eat, something to drink, and somewhere to stay. Whady'a got?"
Muse, leaning against the bar, will look around the tavern for familiar faces in the boating trade.
Perrin looks at Mel blankly. "Right. Which is why we've got to help her. Just like we would help you if you were possessed."
He nods in agreement with Kazador. "Please, try it. If that doesn't work, we could look for a scroll that can help."
Kazador walked over, lifted his hammer and slammed the shaft on the ground twice.
”Gromthi! Rhun-dum! ”
"කපන ලද හැන්දක් සුපිරි නැත," Mel mutters as Kazador invokes his ancestral arcana.
"Listen, Perrin. How can you not understand this? Ev is your familiar. She was drawn to you and bound to you by your master's power. Maybe she was a simple bat once -- but now she's his creature. He's stitched her into your soul. There is nothing you can do to shield her from him. I doubt there is anything any mortal can do in face of such power as his -- at least, not for more than a moment. And certainly not while you worship him."
Mel's hand is white, clenched about the symbol of Ostara. A drop of blood, unheeded, slides lazily down the inside of her wrist from her palm. "Do you want to help her, Perrin? To save her from a life as your master's puppet? Really? If so, I see only one way -- a hard way, and uncertain at best. You must renounce Haagenti."
There's no apparent change but Ev speaks to Perrin in a voice and language he's never heard before but understand anyway. "Uhh Perrin... What's going on... I feel weird..."
Ev's form has changed greatly. She barely fits in the pot anymore. She still has her leathery wings but now has small horns projecting from her head and a roughly humanoid body with no fur.
Perrin stands in silence for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is very tired. "He's not my master, Mel. And he's not all-powerful. You can tell because we just trapped his minion in a piece of cookware." He starts pacing around the small room. "If he could control our minds directly he would have, instead of bothering with this whole charade. I've also learned that he has limited ability to contact servants in the city, which wouldn't make sense if he could possess them whenever he liked."
"So you want to oppose him? Great, I'm with you. Haagenti was part of my how, but never my why. What matters, what drives me and fuels me, is helping people. You, Kazador, Kelian, all the folks back in Brookside - you guys are my master." Perrin reaches out a hand, grasping at the air as though struggling to catch hold of something only he can see.
When Ev's mumbles become audible, Perrin rushes over to the pot. "Are you okay? What do you remember?"
"Your patron, then. And of course he's not all-powerful -- but he's a thousand times more powerful than any of us. He can affect you because of your ... relationship. And he can affect Ev through you."
Her grip on the holy symbol slackens a bit, as it seems that the profane presence has receded. For the moment.
"But you're wrong, you know. He absolutely could control Ev's mind, and did. I suspect he could control your mind, as well. But you heard what he said -- he wanted to 'take the longer, more interesting road' with you. He's toying with you, Perrin, out of cruelty. For the sake of pushing you slowly away from who you were. He's the demon lord of transformation. Nothing would make him happier than to take a good man like you and slowly twist him into a vicious mockery of himself."
As Perrin rushes to the pot and calls to Ev, Mel steps closer and puts her free hand on his shoulder. "And you are a good man. I have never seen you use your power for anything but good. That's why I have hope for you."
As Perrin lifts the lid from the pot, Mel looks down and pales.
Perrin is able to create water without a problem and ends up wetting everyone's shoes when it splashes to the ground. Kelian leaps back in alarm, his nerves already on edge in the confusing situation. "Gah! Oh... ok..." but he looks to the three of you nervous and uncertain what to do here. "So is that it? He tried to trick us but everything's ok now? Should we just eat and go to bed?" He looks to Kazador in concern "Do your Dwarven tales tell of something like this?"
Ev's form is that of a quasit.
In her strange new form, Ev replies "I remember everything... but when that man in the guardhouse mentioned the imp... Something took control of me..." she shivers in extreme fear. "What was that?"
Your clan did tell a deal of a clansman who made a deal with a devil to gain a maiden's heart. The condition of the deal was that, if the man was ever unfaithful to the maiden, he'd lose his soul to the devil. The dwarf was loyal and faithful to his wife, rejecting all the attempts at seduction the devil sent his way. But one day he went home to his wife and made love to her only to find it was the devil himself taking on her form. The devil laughed as he dragged the dwarf away in infernal chains.
”Look. Look...I am not tracking all of this. But demons are bad. Their power is bad. It always is. There’s a story that I heard as a lad. Twas once a runesmith who thought himself wise. But for all of his runelore he never understood women. There was a lass he wanted to woo, but knew not how. So he made a bargain with an abyssal beast. For a beard of gold and a tongue of silver, so that he might win her heart. The price being that if he were ever unfaithful to the lass that his soul was would be forfeit and he would spend eternity making weapons for the abyssal hosts. He made the deal, and for years he lived happily. He married the lass, and thought himself quite wise for making a deal so easy to keep. That it until one night he made love to his wife, only to learn that it was the outsider in disguise. His horrific cries echoed through his clan-hold as his soul was ripped from his body. What I’m saying here, is that deals with Devils never go well. They’ll play a long-game, where ye get what ye wanted and lose what ye had.”
"Or lose yourself," Mel adds. "Or those around you. Look ... Ev has become a quasit demon."
Perrin lets out a gasp of relief as the water splashes down, then he spins to give Ev his full attention. "I think you've been possessed by a demon lord. I'm so sorry, but we can't let you out of there until we make sure he's not still controlling you." He pauses, unsure how to address her transformation. "Do you know why you changed form?"
At Kazador story, he gives a sad smile. "I hear you. The cost is high. But there's just too much at stake to worry about little things like my soul. If this moment I was hurled to the Abyss for eternal damnation, it would still be worth it. The power I've gained... there are children growing up now that would have died without sentience if not for my magic. Hal and David might still be in that mirror. Brookside might be rubble." He grimaces at the creature in the pot. "Ev might not be a demon, but then she'd never be aware in the first place."
Perrin clears his throat. "But there's hope. My power has increased more in the past few days than ever before, and I don't think it's because of Haagenti. It seems like using magic and seeing it used is giving me strength of my own. So I'll try to be... self-sufficient." He pauses, breathing in and out. "But no promises. Promises only work when honesty is the most important chip on the table."
"I still worry that all the good you've done with Haagenti's power will turn sour in the end," Mel says. "But ... maybe he doesn't care about a tiny bit of good. Maybe there's something bigger he wants, and a few healings and cured illnesses are of no real concern."
As she says this, something occurs to Mel. "Perrin," she says slowly. "He said he'd 'settle for what you've already done.'"
She looks at him. "So ... what have you done?"
Ev emotes confusion and concern with a deep under of trust and states "Umm... Ok I guess..." in a quavering voice. To Perrin's squestion she responds "I changed? I feel strange. Did it happen when... It took over?"
You can't verify anything from here but you feel a little slower.
Perrin sighs and asks if the conversation can be continued tomorrow. He is very tired from a difficult and confusing day. Perrin carries the pot containing Ev back to his room and you all head to bed after a confusing day. You wake in the morning to receive another hearty Badger breakfast. Kelian looks to the three of you "Well what now? What lead should we follow? Seems like the Bishop had some ideas. Or maybe we should try something else?"
"Seeing as how yon demonling was trying to implicate the Bishop, I think we should go talk to him. Seems like a right sort, and deserves the warning."
Mel shakes her head. "As you found out the day before yesterday, Kazador, it's pretty hard to get an audience with the Bishop, even if you have a good reason. Our quickest path to speaking with him would be following up on the leads he gave us. Once we've done that, I'm sure he'll see us promptly, since we'll be reporting back on a task he himself gave us. Let's see ..."
She rummages around in her satchel and pulls out the scrap of paper she noted the names on, as well as the city map she'd purchased. She spreads the map out on the table, weighting its corners down with a mug, a pair of candlesticks, and her copy of the Enchiridion Pan Caelestes. She casually sets the book on the corner closest to Perrin.
"Our three leads are: Albert Norwich of Watch, Guardhouse. Brolin Muse merchant, Sonder, Anselm's Wharf. Francis Stone, merchant, Textile Headquarters. The guardhouse is just down the street, so that would be a reasonable place to start. Anselm's Wharf and the Textile Merchants' Guild are roughly equidistant. How about we visit the guardhouse, then the wharf, then the guild? Also ... do we know what we need to ask them? Are we asking about Reap operations? The Elven embassy? Elrin? I wish the Bishop had been able to give us a bit more detail on what he thinks they may know that we should find out."
Brolin sees Laurel setting breakfast.
Laurel bustles over to Brolin's table. "Hello Captain Muse. Did you sleep well?" She places a plate of steaming hot biscuits, a bowl of oatmeal, and two apples on his table.
Kelian nods to Mel. "That sounds like a good plan. Didn't the Bishop ask us to investigate the break-ins to the merchant offices? So the leads are probably about that, right?"
"Ah yes," Mel says, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "The merchant break-ins. They were apparently looking for ... shipping schedules, according to what Perrin learned." She looks at Perrin, trying to judge his state of mind; but finds him an unreadable mask.
She sighs.
"Come on then, no sense wasting the daylight. Let's go."
As the small group passes through the common room, Mel stops suddenly, causing Kelian to run into her. "Sorry, Kelian," she says distractedly. "I think we just had a bit of luck!"
She approaches the table where Laurel is speaking with a tall, eccentrically dressed seafarer. "Excuse me for interrupting," she says, "But I overheard a name dropped as I passed by. Are you Captain Muse? Captain Brolin Muse, of the Sonder?"
"The very same," Brolin says, turning to see who's addressing him. "Hey! I recognize you from yesterday. You get everything sorted out with the malfunctioning magic mirror?"
Mel looks puzzled at this, as she has never seen this man before. Then she tracks his gaze and realizes he's addressing Kazador and Kelian.
”Not me.” He pointed at the others. ”They did. I went to get help, but turns out they didn’t need it. Right fine job they did.”
"Thank you, Kazador," Mel says. "Thought it was Perrin here who did most of it." She dips her head towards Perrin.
"Well, Captain, this is most convenient. We were going to seek you out later today; and here you are now."
Kelian nods in agreement and, despite his excitement, manages to keep a low tone. "Yes, sir! It's very useful that we've run into you. Would you care to join us for a drink?" He turns to Alice. "Hi Alice, um..., do you have a private room or something for parties or the like?" Alice blushes slightly when addressed by Kelian and nods. She leads you to a small side room with a table and 6 chairs and closes the door behind her, giving you relative privacy. A minute later, she returns with two pitchers, one of fine, non-alcoholic cider, and the other of ale. She sets them on the table and leaves you alone again.
”Not me.” He pointed at the others. ”They did. I went to get help, but turns out they didn’t need it. Right fine job they did.”
"All's well that ends," Brolin says. It's a happy sort of feeling, running into a stranger again and vicariously enjoying their success.
"Thank you, Kazador," Mel says. "Thought it was Perrin here who did most of it." She dips her head towards Perrin.
"Well, Captain, this is most convenient. We were going to seek you out later today; and here you are now."
The sailor turns to the woman with the scarf. "I always get a little anxious when I'm talking to someone who knows my name, when I don't know theirs. What about?"
"Oh, excuse me!" Mel says. "Call me Mel Elden." She offers her hand to the Captain, and shakes firmly.
Once they move into the private room, Mel continues: "Now, as to the topic: the Bishop has asked us to investigate recent activities of the Hand of the Reaper, a local criminal organization. He indicated that you might have relevant information, and suggested we speak with you. Water?" she raises her eyebrows and holds a water pitcher angled over an empty cup.
Suddenly overcome with exhaustion, Perrin hurries to his room. He moves Ev to a larger box with some food and water but keeps her shut in, promising to get some scrolls in the morning to make sure she's no longer controlled. Then he collapses into bed and falls into a deep sleep.
Perrin has barely finished his breakfast when the events of the day suddenly start to unfold. He introduces himself mildly to Brolin and listens as Mel explains the situation.
Kelian looks at Perrin with a small smile. He's been concerned about the doctor's unusually quiet manner over the past day. I hope he's not too worried about what happened with Ev. He places a gentle hand on Perrin's shoulder. "It's ok doc. I'm sure everything will be ok. You're a good man and you're better with magic than anyone I've ever met. You'll figure something out."
In the room with Brolin, he pours himself a cup of ale and takes occasional small drinks. He nods when Mel queries Brolin. "Yes, I think we need to find out something you know. Otherwise the Bishop wouldn't have told us to meet."
"Now, as to the topic: the Bishop has asked us to investigate recent activities of the Hand of the Reaper, a local criminal organization. He indicated that you might have relevant information, and suggested we speak with you. Water?"
"I'm good, thanks," Muse politely declines. He's not entirely sure he trusts these people, and is feeling a little in over his head with all the cloak and dagger stuff.
"Don't take this the wrong way, but . . . I spoke to someone in the Bishop's administration about something of an inherently sensitive nature; that could be what this's about. But I'd feel pretty silly if I just went and ran my mouth at the first person who asked. How can I know I can trust you?"
Kazador shrugged. ”Abyss if I know. Words don’t seem to count for much here. Not something I’m used to. Way I was raised, you’re only as good as you’re word. Ye lose that, and what do ye have left? A name is more valuable than all of the gold under the mountain. Guess all I can say is that I’ve seen these people risk their lives for others, even when there’s nay gain for themselves. They’re good folk, the closest to a clan that I’ve got left. I’d ask ye to trust them for that reason. But, if that’s nay enough I understand. I’d say go to ye superiors and ask them. They should vouch for us.”
Mel pours herself a cup of water from the pitcher as the Captain and Kazador speak, taking a sip before she responds. "An excellent point," she says thoughtfully. "I don't believe the Bishop gave us any kind of token or document to prove our bona fides. It seems rather an oversight, doesn't it?"
She considers a moment, brow furrowed, then her face lightens. "The guardhouse is just down the block, and we were going there anyway to speak with one of them. Why don't you come along? I believe Colonel Smythe, the head of the guards, can vouch for us. We can table any discussion of sensitive matters until you've satisfied yourself that we're legitimate."
"Sounds good to me."
The group heads out of the private room and toward the Guardhouse. The Colonel is speaking to some officers inside the entrance as you arrive. He looks at you with some distaste. "Ah. You again." He motions you into a private room. "I did not realize that His Grace's private mandate for you would result in such constant and tiresome appearances at my doorstep. What is the matter now?" He favors Brolin with an annoyed and incurious glare. "Along with guests. Delightful."
"Well then, let's go!" Mel says, knocking back the rest of her water and then standing.
Life filled the streets outside. Neighbors chatted with one another. Carts full of all kinds of goods clattered along the cobblestones. Off to one side she could see a group of children playing king-of-the-hill, laughing and shouting. The crisp spring air brought the occasional waft of sea salt, even this far from the docks.
Ordinarily, Mel would have greatly enjoyed this walk. But ... though the scene is lively, her thoughts keep turning to her troubles. She wears a somber, contemplative look -- out of place on a face accustomed more to smiles.
In short order they reach the guardhouse and enter the foyer. "Sorry to trouble you again, Colonel Smythe," she says. "This is Captain Brolin Muse, one of the contacts the Bishop suggested we speak with. He has -- with admirable discretion, I must say -- requested verification that we're working for the Bishop before speaking with us. Could you please vouch for us? For that matter, perhaps a letter along those lines would keep us out of your hair." She smiles winningly at the Colonel.
"Also, we'd like to speak with Albert Norwich, if he's around," she adds. "He's another of the contacts the Bishop pointed us towards."
Smythe sighs with some annoyance but Mel's charm and elven heritage gain back some of the ground that was lost with this man when she and her friends began doing his job much better than he does! So he complies and writes out a letter for her, giving it his personal stamp and signature.
I, Colonel Rubius Smythe, Commander of the Watch of Helm, do hereby attest and affirm that the bearers of this letter carry out legitimate inquiry into matters pertaining to state security. Cooperate with their investigations.
He hands the letter over briskly. "That will suffice." When Mel asks of Albert, Smythe raises an eyebrow but elects to forgo comment. "He is on patrol and will return shortly."
"Very well. May we use a side room to speak privately with Captain Brolin? Perhaps by the time we're done, Guardsman Norwich will have returned."
Smythe sighs as if his resources are being taxed to the point of exhaustion and nods. "I suppose you may." He rises and exits the room unceremoniously.
"Thank you, Colonel," Mel says politely as he leaves, and heads into a conference room, closing the door after her.
Once safely ensconced in the conference room, Mel takes a seat and pinches the bridge of her nose between two fingers, eyes closed wearily. She mutters something, very quietly.
The colonel having left, Kelian turns back to Brolin. "Well? Are you satisfied? The bishop thinks you have information we need to hear." He nods to Perrin and Kazador as well. "I don't really know what's going on but I think they're starting to form a theory. Isn't that right?"