[ooc]They are not, but they're shut and have curtains drawn[/ooc\
Wyam nods to Isme's concern. "That's fine Isme, but maybe you could fly around back and see if there's anything in the dark we might miss. I doubt anyone's going to question a barely noticed Raven flying around in the dark at night."
He waited for the last rotation of guards to go by a little ways off before he shook his head and let out a sigh. "Alright here we go."
He then pulled out a wine skin and drinks some of it's contents before he looked down at the ground, and ran a hand through his hair tousling it up a little before letting out a small laugh.
He then began to "drunkenly" stagger his way around the corner towards the townhouse but mostly to the fountain before he turned to the others and waved them over.
"Come on, come... come over here." he said loudly but not yelling to his companion. Then really without waiting he pushed himself off the fountain and started staggering over to the manor.
"Aldern! Hey Aldern! We've come for that... uh hunting party you invited us to. Come... ah ha ha!" he then took another drink from his wine skin.
Spectrum leaned against the wall, drinking from a cylindrical flask and smiling lazily. He let Wyam do the yelling.
Isme nods and casts Message on the party before flying up and circling above the area, looking for anything they might miss. Though not able to see in total darkness, the ambient light is enough for her to gather useful information.
Wyam seems convincing; a guard looks ready to come over and take you in to the drunk tank, but your well-armored form dissuades him.
High up, Isme fails to spot anything of note.
Wyam stops and jovially waves off the guard.
"No, no... It's alright. I've got a key." He says pulling it out and attempting to use it. He misses the key hole the first time but on the second attempt he get it in with a satisfying click.
"Have to do everything myself." he mutters to himself, before he turns and again waves at the rest of the group to join him as he enters into the front doors.
Kejal cocks an eyebrow as Wyam starts pretending to be drunk.
"I'm amazed that that worked." she mutters to herself as she follows him into the building, immediately eyeing her surroundings for trouble.
Without visible incident, the group enters Aldern's townhouse. The first room is an entrance hall, with dry mud covering the floor. Listening closely, Kejal fails to hear anything until a sweet female voice pipes up from further into the house. "Oh, do we have visitors? Do come through, I just finished a batch of wattleginger biscuits in the kitchen!"
The words sound like they are coming from the south or south-west area of the house, on the same floor.
Wyam immediately sobered up at the voice from inside. He had spent so much time worrying about what might be outside the house tha he clearly had not expected there to be anyone inside.
He paused for a moment glancing back at Kejal before continuing. Attempting again to continue playing at being drunk but not at all hiding the surprise in his voice.
"... Oh, um uh.. F- Forgive our intrusion. Aldern had invited us to his town-house here and... well he said nothing of company."
"Oh, I'm sure my lovely husband was just trying to keep it a surprise for you, he does like showing me off." A second voice comes from the far side of the house; Aldern's voice. "Indeed I do, honeypea. Please, do come through! I can offer a nightcap."
At hearing "Aldern's" voice, Wyam's eyes widened and he gave up on all pretenses of playing the drunken fool.
"Aldern what a surprise! I thought we'd beaten you here for sure. Of course we'll join you. It would be rude of us not to accept your hospitality."
Dropping the wine-skin to the ground he pulled out his sword and readied his shield. Before he started moving further into the house.
The group moves steadily into the house. Trophy hall, dining room, study. Eventually one final room remains; a lounge, normal except for its chairs and sofa which have been slashed and ruins. Sitting on one of them is a woman with brown hair and pretty eyes; all except Kejal recognize her as Iesha. Another stands over near a desk, pouring wine into a glass. They smile at you. "Visitors, welcome! Have a seat, may I take your coat?"
Wyam blinked, twice. He couldn't believe what he was seeing and for a moment he even felt foolish for having drawn his weapon. But the situation wasn't right at all. He had slain the thing that Aldern had become and he had seen Iesha's corpse. And yet, here they were.
Imposters. Wyam thought to himself. Very good if they are.
He then shot a glance past the two towards the boarded up windows at the back of the room.
"No, that will be alright." Wyam said, standing a little more squarely in front of the door way.
Focusing his will he gazed at the two who were there.
Wyam detects evil auras from the two of them.
His eyes narrowed. "Pleasantries are over. I don't know who you are, but neither of you are Aldern or Iesha. They died. Both of you, back against the wall, now!" he commanded raising his sword.
The pair's smiles grow suddenly rigid; they reveal blades hidden behind their backs.
The two close in on Wyam and aim for his wrists and knees.
Wyam newly enchanted armor held back the attacks from actually striking at his vital spots.
"Wrong choice." he said with a hardened expression and brought his blade up and over his head at 'Aldern.'
As he swung his blade, he stepped to the right and reversed his blade up at the blade in the man's hand.
Kejal remains quiet during the exchange, letting Wyam take the lead. As the creatures move to draw weapons, she crouches slightly into more of an attack posture. When they close in on Wyam, she acts quickly, launching a flurry of attacks against the one that looks like Iesha.
Spectrum conjured a burst of multicolored dust to hamper and blind.
Isme squeezes into the space next to Spectrum to get a good look at "Iesha". She stares, subtly moving the whims of chance around the imposter.
Wyam aims two blows but the impostor's skin proves surprisingly tough, almost rubbery. It aims a return blow.
Kejal faces the same issue, with two blows completely absorbed; her third connects but not all of its force affects false-iesha.
Spectrum's attack comes up against an odd resistance; it seems these imposters are strong against attacks targeting the senses. Regardless, false-Iesha is blinded then cursed by Isme.
The two focus their attacks onto Wyam.
Spectrum conjures a ball of crackling electricity beneath the feet of the one who was not blind.
Wyam took the glancing strike to his arm. Letting out a momentary hiss of pain, he focused his strikes against the false Aldern.
"I met the real Aldern, and he was nothing like you. You showed far too much willingness to invite strangers to your home."
Partially-dodged lightning and two heavy blows connect with the imposter, sending him almost to his knees. He stares up at you malevolently. "Every trap needs a canary's cry..."
Kejal closes her eyes for a moment, her lips moving as she whispers a short prayer, and when she opens them again, there's a golden fury in her eyes and her hands give off a faint white glow.
Isme turns her attention to the false Aldern, similarly cursing the imposter.
"Interesting saying. I may not be a canary but have a cry anyway," the raven says before her caw echoes throughout the room, strengthening the invisible strings of supernatural forces that serve as her trap on the imposters.
Resisting Isme's curse, the false-Aldern stares malevolenty, then turns. With great speed he leaps forward and tries to smash through the boarded-up window. Failing, he splatters against the partially splintered wood and collapses to the floor.
The false-Iesha attempts to succeed on his feat. She similarly fails to break through, falling to the ground, clutching her torn face.
"Hmm, a wise decision in the end. Though I'd have appreciated you surrendering before it came to blows." Wyam said with a hardened expression.
He examined the very well reinforced windows before turning his gaze back to the two impostors.
"Let me be very clear, this is your last chance to avoid my blade. You are my prisoners now, I expect you to act like it. I won't harm you any more as long as you don't try anything but if you try to escape, attack us, or lie to us, I will assume you have nothing ill will intended and all chance of negotiations will end. The two of you should sit down, we're going to be here until I'm satisfied. I have some questions I want you to answer for me. Oh, and don't bother lying.
First, are there or were there any others here? Second are there any others expected to come here?"
They hesitate, thinking. When they speak their lips do not move, though sound still comes out. "...our service-borrower told us to prepare for a party to visit, to deal with them. None have been her for days."
"Can tell you where to find service-borrower, service-lender. In exchange, allow passage from city. We fear the service-lender's vengeance. We will not return."
"W-what are you?!" Wyam asked with clear surprise. The broken speaking without the moving of mouths clearly unsettling him.
After a few moments, he seemed to have recovered some and continued. "That depends... on your level of cooperation. I won't agree out of hand, but it will go a long way toward my decision of you two. Who is the... service borrower and the service lender?"
He glanced at the others. "Isme, Spectrum? Any idea?"
False-Aldern glares. "Ugothol."
"The service-borrower is the man, the charmed, the I, the mill-dweller. The service-lender is the woman, the charmwr, the X, the stilled-clock dweller."
They outline directions to a mill along Kyver's Isler, as well qs to a large abandoned clock tower in the city.
"They are shapeshifters. Creatures known as Faceless Stalkers." Spectrum said with cold anger. His crackling ball of electricity sat in front of the window blocking any future attempts at escape.
Wyam eyed the two prisoners they had. They were evil, yes. He had seen it, but they had begged for mercy too. He knew the tenants of his faith. It was not the Iomadaen way to see redemption be done.
But was that not the hope of all Paladin's, to turn those who were from their dark path, even if it did not result in them becoming law themselves? They were now his prisoners, he was responsible for their lives and what they did. As he understood from their broken language, they were servants rather than the cause of their implementation.
"Though it was by force, you have come to see your errors. You are creatures of services, of contracts. So am I. I have said so long as you are my prisoners and behave no harm will come to you. But I cannot outright set aside your hostilities here. I offer you this choice, either you may keep your lives but stay in captivity and I will hand you over to the city guards. Or I offer you your lives and your freedom but you must adhere to my conditions. For each on of us here that could have taken your, you must help someone in need. 4 people each."
Wyam was expecting some sort of reprisal from the others at his inclusion of them in his deal, but he focused on the two Ugothol.
"Do you accept either of my offers?"
Unblinking, the two creatures stare at eachother a moment before looking at Wyam. "...four services, four people. Conditions accepted. By the Ebon Scar, we are sworn."
The creatures have no intention of honoring such a bargain. Also no such thing as the 'Ebon Scar'.
Spectrum walked to the other side of the room, behind the faceless stalkers and looked out the window as Marshal spoke to them. When he offered terms and they accepted, Spectrum's normally stoic demeanor hardened in disapproval. He looked to Wyam and shook his head.
Isme chuckles darkly behind Wyam. "That was your only chance, you know. There's no such thing as the Ebon Scar and I can tell you have no intention of honoring your bargain. Your skill for trickery leaves much to be desired; no wonder your kind were abandoned if you two are any indication."
They hiss at the speaking raven. "...we will not live as we are not."
Wyam looked at the two, even though Spectrum had told him about what they were, he was glad to see they had seen the wisdom in taking his word seriously.
"Sometimes it is difficult to listen to the words another tells you and abandon what is familiar but you two are choosing the right path." he said with a bear hint of a smile.
Wyam's mood changes as Isme reveals the falsehood the two and is immediately confirmed by their response. "It seems I still have much to learn about the intent and nature of others. I cannot change who you are. Though I had hoped you might try a little."
He sighed thinking over the conversation.
"You have surrendered yourselves to me, but you have also acted without honor and broken your word to not lie. Your escape without oath threatens the lives of innocents. You have earned my contempt... and I can no longer allow you to leave!"
Wyam readies his blade.
Kejal steps towards Wyam, nodding to the Raven and to Spectrum. "I appreciate our friends' perspectives, but they have surrendered and given us their word. Certainly we cannot go around slaughtering the unarmed because of what they may do? I am not sure that I can see either the honour or the justice in that."
She closes in on the Faceless Stalkers, her hands still glowing. "With that said, you have worn the faces of others, lied, and attacked without provocation. I would hear a better explanation than the vague mentions of a service-lender."
"If you are truly willing to repent and change your ways, then surely you would give us more information to help stop those who put you up to this. Many have died, at least in part for your employer's actions, and ignorance does not excuse the part you have played. Cast off your treacherous ways, and speak true."
They look to eachother, then turn to face you. Their skin rippled and their face dissolves into whorls, circles and lines. Three hollow tongues protrude and lap at the air as words come from six mouths altogether. "We... are... ugothol. We were created to feed, to hunt, to kill. We... will... not... be... what... we... are..."
Wyam's sword slowly dropped at what Kejal said. The grace of her words held back his conviction, just when he had been about to do just as she had said. Seeking justice by executing two creatures whose words could not be readily trusted.
But somehow, Kejal had done what he thought to be impossible, or at least beyond him. As the two reverted back to what he assumed was their natural form he grimaced at their looks. But he was nearly astonished by the forced sounding of their words.
Sheathing his blade, Wyam wondered if he had nearly began a path that might have cause him to stray.
"If you speak for these creatures, Kejal, then I will leave their fate to you." He kept his shield ready but found himself beginning to believe that she may yet accomplish what he had hoped to do.
"This is a bad idea. They cannot be trusted." Spectrum said flatly. "Also, we do not have authority here. It is no longer self defense. We should bring them to the local authorities."
"...by Ghlaunder's... gossamer wings... ENOUGH."
One of the stalkers grabs Wyam's blade in its mouth before he can sheathe it, shoving his head up into it. The second raises its wrist to its three-tongued face and with a fleshy sound rips it open to bleed out onto the ground. It stares up at you. "We... will... not... live... as... we... are... not... We... will...die...as...we...are."