Catina wakes up with a stone in her stomach, on the last day of practice. The dress rehearsal feels like an impending doom to her. A week hadn't sounded like much when they started, but time seemed to have flown and she's worried that she's nowhere near ready. She beseeches Shelyn for guidance during prayer, but finds little inspiration. She makes her way to the theater on leaden feet, in a vain attempt to avert the inevitable.
Her nerves show throughtout the rehearsal that day. Like earlier she tries her best, but her performance is stifled by anxiety. She doesn't have the confidence to talk to anyone during the day. She keeps her head down, only noting in passing that Faustinia seems to have found a way to turn the director to her side. All thoughts of talking to Robahl about Thesing have vanished from her mind, and she feels like a coward for it.
At the end of the day, Catina would have been happy to flee back to the temple without talking to anyone, until the director confronts her. She half-fears that she will be fired, regardless of the timing. When she looks at the circlet, she's both relieved and very grateful. With trembling hands, she puts it on. There's a very slight twinkle in her eyes, but it would take someone very close to her to figure out what it meant. "Thank you, Mister Robahl," she says with a trembling voice. "I... I am truly sorry that I have not turned out to be the actor you could have wanted for this performance. And for giving me the chance anyway, regardless of your fears. I know that you are taking a big chance in staging the the play, the full version I mean, and all that with fledgling actors such as ourselves. I wish that things would have turned out differently for you, but it is too late for that now." She squares her shoulders. "I just want you to know that I am one hundred percent committed to the success of this play. If not by acting skill, then by heart and soul. Regardless of what might happen to us on stage, I will do what I can to see this performance a success."
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Faustinia, bolstered by how well things went yesterday with the director, puts a little more effort into her rehearsal in the morning. Plus, they cover her favorite lines: the parts where she gets to deliver her vicious insults to Thesing and brag about her arcane power.
As always, though, the repetition starts to grate her nerves, and she loses steam in the second part of the day. It doesn't help that they've moved on to her problem areas, either. Those, of course, are the parts when Dentris emphasizes his devotion to the titular Lazarod. It's not that she balks at the idea of playing a trusted advisor to a noble house, rather than playing a member of the nobility herself. Nor is it the fact that Lazarod’s house is fallen; the similarity to the state of House Xerysis does not escape her, but nor does it dismay her or engender some resentment. If anything, the play honors Lazarod and his noble steadfastness - at least in the original text.
No, what seems to impede Faustinia’s performance is that she acts as a parental figure to Catina. She continually falters whenever the play emphasizes that relationship, and she can't seem to shake her discomfort. Certainly the block isn't that Faustinia doesn't trust and like Catina - the girl had proven herself a kind and reliable ally many times over. Faustinia had even felt proud of the young tiefling when she had stood up for her beliefs and helped guide the Eyes’ decisions. But the thought of treating Catina like her child, even an adoptive one, induces in the older woman a profound discomfort that she is unable to shake despite her growing fondness for the girl.
After some more unsuccessful attempts at rehearsal, Faustinia approaches Calseinica. ”So, do you feel ready for the audience tomorrow?” she asks. It sounds less like Faustinia wants an answer, though, and more like a way to try to hide her own insecurities. ”I also heard that my associates helped you out with a bit of...trouble that came your way. I just wanted to let you know that I share their concerns; you're obviously a finer actor than myself, but if you ever feel that you need to consult the wisdom that comes with age, I hope that you'll think of me.” Faustinia gives the young actress a warm smile, and instinctively thinks, If only Calseinica were playing Lazarod, before immediately feeling a wave of guilt wash over her for thinking it. She bids Calseinica farewell before returning to the final rehearsals.
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One more day, Petals tells herself, One more day. But she knows it is just the start. One more day until it gets really bad. The director's ire was going to 1000 times worse once the entire city was booing them.
Her days wasn't horrible, but nerves proved too much to get it completely right. Mixing comedy with righteousness eluded her time and again. She wished she could just play the role as being angry all the time. Maybe then she'd be OKAY at least.
She even tried to talk to Millech, but he didn't seem to want to have much to do with her either. Maybe he was jus too busy, but she took it as a brush off. Feeling next to useless and wanting other than to quit, she spent any time she could sitting somewhere quiet and alone.
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Alessandro continues to practice on the sixth day. He's managed to learn his lines but he is constantly distracted by keeping an eye on Thesing to make sure he doesn't cause and trouble for Calseinica or Catina. Fortunately, Thesing stays away but Robahl scolds Alessandro each time he is staring off the wrong way.
After the rehearsal, Alessandro visits Robahl in his office. "Good evening, Robahl. I apologize for my inattention today, but I think you should be made aware that there was an incident the other night. On the way home, Thesing assaulted Calseinica in an alley. Catina and I stopped him before he could do anything truly horrific but I believe Catina and Calseinica have been shaken from the incident. If it wasn't the night before the dress rehearsal, we'd be pushing for ousting him from the play. I promise you that I've learned the part. I'm sure that during an actual performance, Thesing won't try anything so I can put my full attention toward the role."
Alessandro walks Calseinica home again and promises to pick her up in the morning.
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Thesing brutally cuts Varius down, prompting a pregnant silence from the warrior before he grins in response.
"You know, I was wondering how a 'famous actor' could end up in a production like this. Turns out the answer is that one hasn't."
Shaking his head, Varius wanders off.
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The success of Varius' first day on the play sets out a dangerous precedent for Varius. Forgetting the incredibly hard work he put into every small movement and nuance of his performance, he simply assumes that he's naturally really great at acting. He isn't. After several clumsy mishaps during his physical comedy, mis-timings, and bad blocking he gets a vicious tirade from Robahl that sends him storming off in silent anger.
Stupid Thesing. I wish I was a mediocre actor. Maybe I'll be mediocre at keeping whatever monsters they throw at us away from that walking pustule.
Varius attempts to talk to the Visbaronette afterwards, but is flustered and upset from the day and unable to pour on the honey as he normally does. Flirting with slightly deluded noblewomen being a specialty of his.
"I must say this has been a trial of its own for those of us who do not have your vast experience, and of course unmatched talents. Hearing your lovely voice does give me strength and purpose though."
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Robahl raises a perplexed eyebrow at Alessandro’s story, but he listens to it thoroughly. “Uhm…I see…” The man then shrugs, fiddling with his walking stick. “Well, you see, Mr. Esposito…” he takes time, looking at his surroundings and making sure Thesing is not anywhere close before ensuing. “I usually don’t care about what my actors do outside the theater. After all, many actors lead unusual private lives, if I may say so…Anyway, thank you for your reporting. I’ll be keeping a closer eye on Mr. Ulvauno from now on. And I trust you will keep an even closer eye to Mrs. Nymmis…” Robahl pats Alessandro on his shoulder and giggles mischievously. “If you know what I mean…”. Then, still chuckling, he walks away.
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Later, with Catina, Robahl listens to the tiefling’s apologies with a bored expression. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, Mrs. Catina. I never expected you to be a decent actress. And when I say never, I mean NEVER. Since the first time I saw you, I knew you were not fit to be an actress. But as you know, my choice was not based uniquely on your acting skills, otherwise…Well, you know what, otherwise. I trust you will stay alive using your fighting skills, which I trust. The circlet will make the rest. At least I hope so…”
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Calseinica greets Faustinia with a warm smile, and listens to her just like a respectful daughter would. “I feel ready, my lady. And you?” Then the starlet smiles again and gets closer to Lady Faustinia, in order to conceal her words. “I had hoped you would say so, my lady. Thank you for your support. I respect you highly, and I would trust your wisdom with my very life. Thesing…He’s just…A lady should never use any of the words which are fit to describe that scum!”
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The Visbaronettes Aulamaxa smiles at the flattery, but there’s something in Varius that she can’t seem to stand. “Thank you. Such a shame that a good and honest fellow such as you are has such a poor method of choosing friends…” For a moment, Varius glimpses the Visbaronette’s eyes turning to Calseinica, but then the imposing woman shrugs and walks away.
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The first part of this day is spent tightening up any last minute issues with scenes or other logistics— the public dress rehearsal is scheduled to begin at 4:00 in the afternoon.
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The Limehouse fills quickly as the time for the dress rehearsal draws near—by 4:00, the theater is packed with nearly a hundred excited, noisy theater patrons eager to see flubbed lines, missed cues, and not-quite-special effects. The din of the crowd is intimidating—this is not an audience interested in remaining quiet and respectful during a performance. Just before the dress rehearsal begins, Robahl offers some last advice: “Do your job. Ignore the rabble. If they throw something, take it and move on. Anything less than them actually starting a fire is not cause to stop the performance.”
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If Catina had thought she was nervous before, that's nothing to what she feels on the day of rehearsals. She has to skip breakfast for fear of not holding anything. The upside to that is that she leaves the temple early. She takes a few detours in an attempt to forestall the inevitable, but eventually reaches the Limehouse. She's very quiet as she's hoisted into her costume: A stern robe in black and red, a high collar snug around her neck but a bodice tight enough to show her figure beneath her breastplate. For the occasion, she's strung her bracelet on a simple necklace, to wear beneath her costume.
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Catina is very pale when she has to go on stage, but she's comforted by the thought the makeup should conceal all of that. She takes a look around her companions and realizes that she has to make the best of it, just as she had promised Robahl earlier. She takes strength from the circlet and from those around her - with the exception of Thesing of course, who was simply 'The enemy' for now. Her voice shakes only a little when she takes her first cue from Faustinia. "Larazod knows no lies, great magistrate, and no slanderer’s tongue caresses my dignity. The accusations you speak are as true as Asmodeus’s sword. They cleave clean through. Let the witnesses suffer no more lash. To burn their innards with pokers and steal their eyes is simply to waste precious toil better spent in Asmodeus’s service. There is but one point misaligned in this dark constellation—I seek not your death, though the secrets you harbor in your feeble heart deserve a gruesome demise."
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She gets through the first few acts well enough, and even seems to gain some confidence as she goes. The extra effort that Robahl had spent with her on the third act even pays off, and she thinks she has found a rhythm. "I sing only of the joy of supplication to our dark lord. This pleasure is only a gift of Asmodeus’s truth. I would gladly die at this f luke’s bite, but alas, my duty here is yet undone, and so I scorn this pleasure with a bleeding blade. I shall not relent until your lies are revealed, foul Magistrate."
Alas, it is not to be. The beginning of the fourth act leave Catina flustered, at the moment where Calseinica as Ilsandra embraces Lazarod in a fiery kiss. Things feel so... different from how it had happened at rehearsal, with so many people watching and shouting. The situation leaves her bewildered, temporarily unable to remember her lines. It takes a prod to get her to continue. "Come... eh, horror, I shall... shall... tear my way from your gizzard with the white-hot blade of my truth." The situation is quite a blow to the tiefling's confidence. She tries as best as she can to make it through the rest of the performance, but her rhythm from the first part is lost and she's visible shaken.
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Not being a particularly nervous person by nature, Varius shows up as sanguine and confident as ever. He takes a moment with the rest of the Irises, particularly Catina.
Poor girl looks like she's about to vomit out her skeleton.
"Remember two things. First. Dress rehearsals are supposed to go poorly. It's a good sign. Secondly, our goal is survival. If we live, nobody beyond Robahl is going to care if you delivered your lines convincingly."
Varius then settles in for makeup where he's done up in classic clowning style, or so he's just learned. His face is painted up white and dashed with black lines to give his expressions definition. He then puts on an oversized checkered red and yellow coat with a ridiculous feathered hat. Steeling himself, he waits until his queue before tumbling out onto the stage, spending the performance trying to boost the other performers rather than call attention to himself.
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Varius handles his support part well enough earlier on, capturing audience attention with his obscure, sing-songy advice and getting some strong reactions to his tumbles. He keeps to his simple part well enough throughout the introduction and first two trials. Disaster strikes for him once Lazerus forgets her lines, and he very, very obviously nudges her back to remember them, much to the chagrin of the audience.
He spends the rest of the play desperately trying to make Lazerus look good, and thus making himself look not quite as well as he would have otherwise. Come the sixth act he's effectively a nonentity in the play. However, Varius manages a decent seventh act; completely overawed at the entrance of the Prince of Darkness.
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There is nothing more to be done, Petals tells herself standing off stage waiting for what will be the hardest battle of her entire life. All week she's suffered nerves so horrible to make the stoutest dwarf vomit repeatedly, but now she felt calm. She didn't think she'd do well or anything. but as she repeated inside her mind, there was nothing more to be done, save do it.
She looks at the others and gives the most confident smile she could, squeezing Catina's shoulder in support. After Varius's words she adds, And third, Remember why we are here. Nothing else truly matters.
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Petals' luck at remembering her lines starts off slow. Comedy is what Tybain is all about, and comedy takes the correct tone and timing, which she didn't not get right over and over.
He wants precious golden-yoked truth? Give him more than he can choke down. came out stuttered and distracted.
Even in the face of soul-crushing pain, he taunts this ridiculous Magistrate of Hell. lacked the proper mocking tone.
But then something clicked in the third act. It was Catina. She was simply amazing. Glowing with every line, the emotions radiating off her in waves. Petals is startled, seeing more of her goddess in this woman than she has ever felt in herself. The envy is brief, replaced with overwhelming happiness, pushing confidence into her own lines.
It is as if a thousand feathers assault my flesh— especially my most… tender… parts. What strange pleasure is this! was delivered with the correct frantic sexual comedic enthusiasm. Making the crowd respond in raunchy cheers and suggestions.
The next act was beyond the ability she believed she could ever achieve. The pride and wonder she felt coursing through her with every cheer, every wailing laugh, made her understand why actors did this.
Until she notices Catina's own flustered nature, that is. Her own worries and insecurities come crashing down harder than every before.
Ending in true disaster in act 6. While delivering the line Kick off, old ba-- she tried to act out the Kicking part with a little too much spirit, slipping and landing hard on her rump. Face going fiery red, she forgets all the rest of her lines. The deafening silence gnawed her very soul. THINK she screams inside her empty head as Alessandro tries to cover going on without her last few words until finishing with ...you simpering Aro-din-din! He looks down to the still sitting Petals, the failed paladin of Aroden looking embarrassed and miserable. Um... um... Looking... more lively... the rest escapes weakly, getting cries of scorn from the crowd erasing all the goodwill she had gotten earlier.
Getting hit with the bucket was easier. Or that arrow to her throat down in the bastard's den. Anything really.
She manages the rest of the play, but is resigned to hating this once again.
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Alessandro is excited for the dress rehearsal. He never really thought of himself as an actor or ever in a million years thought that he'd actually be on stage, in front of people, but here he is now, and doing a half-way decent job at it too. He encourages his comrades before the play begins, "You can do this. You've been practicing hard. There is nothing to fear. Those are people out in the audience, not monsters. Show them what you got!"
Alessandro, doesn't actually have any lines for the first act but supports Catina from the side lines. Come the next few acts, Alessandro begins to warm up and really hit his stride. He reads the audience and realizes that many of the patrons are not opera-goers; they don't know the story of this play. They are looking for entertainment: action, comedy,...lewdness.
On the fifth act, Alessandro gives the crowd what they want. He is so over the top and so animated, the audience doesn't know whether to laugh or cry or gasp or all of the above.
"Oh horror beyond nightmare! The eggs, they burrow deep within us. They hatch deep in our insides, churning our guts to paste and slurping them through gritted devil teeth. They feed on our souls. When these foul devils have eaten their fill, they tear their way free—terrible things! Hideous devil-children bearing our own faces, but filled with hate for all we are. We are mothers to twisted things and look upon our own visage as we die by their taloned hands."
In the final acts, he isn't too bad either. By the end of the night, he is sweaty and exhausted. So this is the play without any of the dangers. I can't imagine what it will be like with fighting involved. Is it hot in here or is it just me? Does Millech have those lights on too bright. I need some fresh air.
Alessandro hangs out by the ajar backstage door stares up at the sky. It's going to be night soon. Oh what a world it will be when we Wescrani can walk beneath the stars without nightmare beasts in the alleys. One day soon, that will be a reality. I hope we all live long enough to see it.
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Faustinia corrects Alessandro, twirling the end of a long false mustache attached to a wizened beard. ”On the contrary, people can easily be monsters. We've defeated monsters before, though, and this vegetable-chucking rabble is nothing but a bunch of cackling imps. We'll get through this just fine. “ Faustinia scratches at her false beard and picks a hair off her elaborate void-black wizard robes. ”And let's do it quickly, this thing itches like a barbed devil.”
Through the rehearsal, the old woman's performance is inconsistent, but buoyed by Calseinica’s energy and her promise to Robahl to perform better in front of a crowd, she plays to support Catina as well as she can, even during the supremely uncomfortable Trial by Pleasure.
With the whole story laid out, Faustinia surprises herself by taking some joy in the full production. She winces as her fellows sometimes flub lines, and especially when Petals manages to land on her rear. Still, she makes the best of it, roaring at “Tybain” with her insults to try to make the fall look purposeful, peppering Thesing with insults to the delighted jeers of the crowd, and taking pride in Catina's ability to push through and actually deliver some impressive moments.
Alas, the false beard remains irreparably itchy.
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The dress rehearsal starts very well, with Catina in the guise of Lazarod who’s able, together with the other actors, to keep up with the high expectations made up by Robahl Nonon and shared by the roaring crowd. The public gathered around the stage cheers at every word and move from the actors, and the anticipation building in town appears to be only increasing with every single line delivered.
Things start to worsen at the beginning of the fourth act, when Catina, in the heat of the moment, forgets some lines. This isn’t anything irreparable in itself, but it has the effect of worsening Lazarod’s mood and shatter her confidence. The crowd notices it, and begins hurling ripe tomatoes, cabbages, or small bags of weevil-infested flour and grain at the stage. Shaken by the reaction, Catina tries to make up for that in the following act, also aided by her companions, but the tension surrounding her is too much, and the fear to fail overwhelms her. Once again, the crowd does not fail to notice this uncertainty—another play, performed by the crowd, commences, continuing throughout the performance and roundly applauded at the end.
The group has to get the attention of the crowd back, although the situation is beginning to feel chaotic at best, with all the laughter, the applauses, the insults and the chatter. Unfortunately, the rehearsal has already taken a declining path, and it can only continue that way. As before, the crowd notices it. A pair of terrified sheep are led up on stage and suggested as replacements for the actors—the sheep run amok and foul the stage in their panic and continue to be distracting for the for the remainder of the play.
The last act begins. The stage is littered with ripe vegetables and hosts also a pair of sheep. Amid the crowd, another play, performed by the crowd, goes on. The group does his best to conquer the attention of the crowd again, but there’s nothing to do—another volley of ripe tomatoes, cabbages, or small bags of weevil-infested flour and grain is hurled at the actors.
Fortunately, it’s time to end the dress rehearsal. When the last line is delivered, audience cheers wildly with approval—as it seems, the group managed to earn their trust and appreciation during the first three acts, those in which the concentration is highest, and the following hesitations have been forgotten pretty quickly.
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Robahl has no words of encouragement for the actors, but he seems relieved—he merely tells the actors to go home and get some rest, for the big day is tomorrow!
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At the end of the performance, Catina feels giddy with exhaustion. Despite the absolute pandemonium on stage, between their own performance, the audience's play, the sheep and the vegetables, the whole situation just felt absurd to her. As the curtain falls and the group is left among themselves, she had expected to feel drained and miserable. However, she can still feel the energy she felt until half-way the play, and the cheers and applause still ring in her ears - apparently the audience approved despite all the ruckus they caused. She feels... elated, despite all of her shortcomings. "Can you believe it?! We... We actually did it - sort of... Didn't we?" She paces and has to stop herself from hugging her companions several times, feeling like a vat of energy about to boil over. "It's... It's... Did you ever think it was going to be like that?"
The only thing that seems to dampen her energy slightly is the thought that the actual performance will include real danger. "So, what do you think it'll be like?" she asks the others. "We know that it'd normally just be illusions by Millech, mock-battle to spice up the play. But to make the performance more dramatic, to really make a statement, Robahl has made some other arrangements as well. Even Millech wouldn't say anything about it, so we're in the dark. Will it be wild animals from outside the city, monsters even? Undead creatures or summoned devils?" She shudders for a moment, realizing that she can think of a lot more challenges that she'd rather not think about. "We'd best do as Robahl says and get a good night's rest." Catina eventually does hug the rest of the troupe and bids them a good night, before she bounces out the door and practically runs back to the temple.
"Chaos..." Petals whispers in awe, swatting a sheep away from licking rotting vegetation from her face. "Pure chaos"
"Later backstage, You're right. We did it... somehow." she smiles in relief to Catina. Laughing as the tension bleeds out of her. "WE DID IT!" she yells doing a little dance of joy, grabbing the nearest companion's hands and twirling around the room with them, chanting her exuberance. "I never imagined anything like THAT either." she agrees when she calms down. It was worse then the most drunken brawl she'd ever had to serve drinks through. "If actors go through that regularly and remain sane, they will forever have my deepest respect."
Saying a quick prayer of thanks to Shelyn, knowing that only with her grace did the survive this long, she then says good night to Catina, accepting the hug warmly and then heads back home for sleep and a tiny bit of normalcy. "Wait until I tell the others... a sheep of all things?!?"
Varius staggers out of the dress rehearsal exhausted, and with his makeup already running with rivulets of sweat from his exhausting performance. He immediately begins laughing hysterically.
"They... they send sheep on the stage. Oh that was rich. Also helped clean up the vegetables!"
He gives Petals a twirl before spinning away to collide against a wall.
"I had no expectations going into this and this exceeded all of them. I'm not sure if it was more fun with the crowd loving or hating us. Fantastic job. I had a hard enough time keeping up and I have five lines!"
Varius gratefully pulls off some of his heavy costume as he tries to cool down.
"But yes, tonight was fun, tomorrow there are battles. I'll pick up a few odds and ends to help out - perhaps something long and pointy in case they have something particularly large for us to fight."
He turns to each cast member in turn, effusive with compliments.
"You all had your moments of brilliance. Petals, you had me blushing in act four. Alessandro, my skin crawled at your reaction to the eggs in act five. Lady Faustina - I had to bite my cheeks from laughing as you heaped scorn on that wretch Thesing. And Catina - you were just marvelous."
He gives Catina a warm hug in return, careful to avoid impaling himself on the shorter woman's horns.
I wonder what it feels like having horns?
"Well done. Also, if they send sheep up tomorrow we'll have something to feed the monsters. Get some rest. I'm going to get this damn paint off of my face and have a drink or three. Anyone who cares to join me, I'm buying."
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Regardless of who goes out to drink with him, Varius cleans hismelf up, only gets a little drunk and collapses into a deep sleep. The following day he heads to his favorite blacksmith to pick up a glaive to add to his arsenal. As well, if available, he buys a couple of healing potions.
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Whatever the Irises’ impressions are of the ordeal of enduring Robahl’s scathing insults, juggling the drama between several bitter and competing actors, or performing a play before a crowd of particularly unruly locals, these are mere inconveniences compared to what awaits them at the Nightshade Theater—for the uncut version of The Six Trials of Larazod is indeed quite deadly.
The Nightshade Theater is the latest of Mayor Arvanxi’s attempts to “bring culture to Westcrown,” an exercise in excess and misery. From outside, the theater looks like nothing less than an iron and stone cathedral to some nameless evil god—inside, the building is all soft lighting, thick red carpets, and devilish decor. Carvings and murals of leering faces and tormented souls decorate the walls, while the ceilings hang with iron chandeliers. The main theater can seat approximately 250 individuals, all facing a relatively spacious stage.
This map presents the auditorium and stage, along with backstage chambers used for actors (the green room, stage right) and to house the monsters and deadly props (prop storage, stage left). In both rooms, evidence of the Nightshade’s recent construction is apparent; crates of tools and equipment, unfinished walls, and bare wooden floors testify to the fact that only the parts of the building that the public sees are fully finished.
The play itself is scheduled to begin, as with the dress rehearsal, at 4:00 in the afternoon—Robahl gathers his troupe at noon and leads them on a procession from the Limehouse to the Nightshade (Map) intended to show off the actors in their full costumes as they wind their way through the streets to the west, board a large barge, sail across the river, debark on Rego Aerum, and then proceed to the imposing facade of the Nightshade itself. Once there, Robahl bundles the actors into the theater through a side entrance, sequestering them in the green room with enough food and drink to keep them happy until the play begins.
Robahl emerges only a few minutes before the play is set to begin, appearing before the actors white-faced and sweating. Asked what they are about to face, Robahl feigns a smile and says only, “You’ll do fine… you’ll do fine… hit your marks and remember your lines, and you’ll do fine…”
As 4:00 rolls around, the sound of bells in a nearby tower pealing out the hour, the growing rush and din in the auditorium calms. Robahl takes a deep breath, then steps onstage to greet the audience and give the following short speech.
“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the premiere event at this wondrous new theater! Let me begin by extending my humblest thanks to the Church for providing the—how shall I say?—punch in tonight’s spectacle. And also my sincere gratitude and thanks to our illustrious and benevolent lordmayor, Aberian Arvanxi.”
With that, Robahl bows and returns backstage. The lights go down, the seven-piece orchestra plays a short introduction, and then Visbaronetness Aulamaxa takes the stage and sings for a few minutes to introduce the play. She finishes to a round of tremendous applause, the orchestra falls silent, and with a strangely uncharacteristic whisper of encouragement from Robahl—the play begins!
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The first act of the play is relatively minor, and runs exactly as you rehearsed it at the Limehouse. No combats, no torments, and no unexpected surprises await you during this act—you need only read your lines and make your final Perform (act) checks at the end to determine increases to Popularity.
So this is the Nightshade theater...It looks more like a church to Asmodeus than an opera house...and we're the sacrifices. With this lighting, the crowd looks absolutely hellish, thirty for blood. I hope it doesn't unnerve the others. It certainly is unnerving me. Robahl didn't seem that confident either. Something is bothering him. This can't be good.
Alessandro doesn't have any lines in Act I but provides whatever support he can.
Catina has trouble sleeping after the dress rehearsal, hyped on the feeling of being on stage. During the evening she had her ups and downs, remembering both the good parts and her mistakes. She's eats for two, starved from skipping breakfast and thinking - rightly - that she probably won't be able to eat breakfast the next morning.
--
Like the day before, Catina is up early and her nerves have gotten the upper hand again. She dressed quickly, prays for courage and guidance in the performance to come, and then heads to the Limehouse. She gawks at the sights as Robahl takes them to the Rego Aerum, never having an opportunity before to visit the islands. The sight of the Nightshade Theater impresses her, but its lacks of taste also rubs her wrong. She grows quiet as the troupe changes to their costumes. Catina knows she'll have to rely on her spells that afternoon, and touches a hand to her chest, to feel the bracelet between her robe. It's odd to wear the mark of Asmodeus, but she's sure the Shelyn will know the truth and can foregive this, for the sake of a performance.
--
The atmosphere of the theater catches on Catina, and she steps out on stage proudly, despite her shaking knees. She's ready to go, even if the director's introduction give her pause. The Church helped provide the challenges? Will we be fighting actual devils? She tries not to think about that for now, taking it Act by Act.
Varius, still treating everything as a huge game with no real sense of the fact he may be fighting for his life soon, gets a great night's sleep after a bottle of wine to himself. The following morning he takes time to polish and hone his swords, ensure his longbow has a new string and a quiver full of arrows, and that his new glaive has some brightly coloured cloth attached to it.
The entire day is just a joy for Varius, feeling freer and more relaxed than he ever has before. His garish, floppy costume is used to great effect during the procession as he flops about in an attempt to delight onlookers. The trip itself is nothing new to Varius, and he spends a lot of his time watching the expressions of his companions who have never been on the island.
Backstage, he takes a little while to limber himself up, ensure his breastplate is firmly attached, and he is ready for the fight. He keeps his bow on his back, his glaive in hand, and twin swords strapped to his waist. He ties a garish piece of cloth to the glaive, hoping to use it as a prop to twirl and vault with.
Painted, costumed, and ready to go, Varius gives his companions some words of encouragement before he cartwheels onto the stage on his queue.
Petals pays every attention possible to her looks this morning, brushing her long golden hair over and over, braiding it in loops out of the way, but still hopefully attractive. Yesterday taught her she CAN do this! She WILL do this.
She prays much more than normal, eats a light breakfast where the others thankfully give encouraging smiles and kind words of support. Then off to the theater and the islands. Like Catina she has never visited them before. She asks Varius little questions to distract herself about this and that on them. Laughing softly at the little embellishes he adds.
Then comes the play...
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Faustinia prepares her morning coffee along with her spells as usual, trying to make the difficult decision of choosing between memorizing spells for pleasing the crowd and surviving the play. The familiar trip to the island is relaxing, despite the fanfare of the trek to the Nightshade, and Faustinia silently watches the waves lap against the barge.
Once inside, she gives the overwrought interior of the theater a judgmental expression as the actors file into the green room. Faustinia feels rather calm, drawing on her deep well of self confidence and the thought that this foolish ordeal would finally be over tonight. Some stress does creep in, though. As she eats her fill of canapés, she morbidly jokes, ”Well, I suppose if we do poorly enough tonight, we won't have to face any bad reviews afterward, right?” Whatever tension she had attempted to relieve by this question appears to still remain with her. She eats another canapé before heading out to her stage debut.
Afterwards, feeling that she did alright, she uses the time before the second act to pull out a scroll. As the Visbaronettes captivates the audience, she adds done subtle magical protection.
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A high-backed obsidian bench stands upcenter. As the curtain rises, HAANDERTHAN himself perches there, an awesome figure of power looming above the shackled forms of LARAZOD, TYBAIN, and DENTRIS. The other members of the COUNCIL, including the sultry ILSANDRA, flank out stage right and left of HAANDERTHAN’S tribunal bench. The hulking bearded devil BAILIFF stands over them, spiked truncheon in his scabrous red, leather-like hands.
The scene is set by Millech’s illusion, and as it seems, the bearded devil Bailiff is also an illusion: “Order in the Tribunal. The Court of His Honor Paraduke Montigny Haanderthan, Black Tongue of Asmodeus, Magistrate Maleficarum, now holds session. All rise.”
Catina, shackled, is suitably impressed by the bearded devil, even knowing it is an illusion. Petals leather gloves creaks as her fingers tighten around the shaft of her hammer. The illusion looks too real and her impulse is to attack.
At this point, Thesing, in the guise of Haandertan, takes the stage. He grins with a confident smile. “Be seated, members of the Court. Today this court seeks truth, or at least shadows thereof, from one Larazod Rilsane, honored veteran of the Shadestar War, member of a once gloried house, of recent fallen in Asmodeus’s regard.”
Thesing gives a disdainful look at Catina and ensues, looking for the complicity of the crowd as he vomits his hate, both real and staged, toward the tiefling. “The accused stands on several counts of failed conspiracy, evidenced thereof by the industrious interrogations of the court’s own Seeker, Drovalid Vorclune, administered with his usual diligence and severity.”Although Thesing’s words are supposed to exude respect toward Alessandro, his grin betray his personal hate. “In these interviews Vorclune gathered from notable sources, only a few of whom survived their conversations with the lash, that Larazod of the Rilsane held audience with undesirables— the topic of their whispered covenant the activities of none other than myself. A most serious affair. Service to Asmodeus’s ever-darkening glory is never without risk of menace, betrayal, and threat of doom. My family and I have long suffered the bumbling attempts of assassins who would tear at our dark lord’s visage as casually as they befoul their mothers’ beds. What they lack in cunning they bolster with sheer desperation, evidenced by consorting with all manner of Aroden-suckling knaves, and aged wiz-worms who trust in mystic secrets over the Dark One’s love.”
Alessandro further snubs Thesing by hamming up the part and drawing the attention from Thesing to himself. His torturer’s costume has him bare-chested and covered in black accentuating leathers. Alessandro oiled himself up before the act and he glows under the spotlight when it turns to him. He flexes his muscles and cracks his lash.
The crowd seems a bit impatient because of the long monologue, hence Thesing takes on a much more dramatic tone in order to conquer their attention. “You hereby stand accused, Larazod, along with your illseeming compatriots, of conspiracy to undertake grievous harm to the institution of this tribunal, namely myself, Paraduke Montigny Haanderthan. How answer thee these charges, Larazod of House Rilsane? Be thou maligned by a scandal-brewer’s wagging tongue, or dost thou cleave to my comings and goings as a bloat fly to a fresh cadaver? Speak! And know that lies are my closest friends. They’ll betray you before I. Speak the truth or do worse than die!”
Faustinia snaps at Catina, “Hold your tongue, boy, and we’ll escape the firebrand yet. Your father was the model of a devil’s squire. Summon his wiles now, and keep shut that Abyss you call mouth, before we all tumble down into its darkness.” She lets out an exaggerated sigh, muttering loudly enough for the audience, “Had you been born deaf and dumb, this loyal servant would yet live to see another midnight.”
Petals standing next to Catina, advises the shackled Larazod to “Hurl his arrogance and accusations back at him, Larazod. He wants precious golden-yoked truth? Give him more than he can choke down.” Her free hand mimics hurling something she imagines warm and smelly at the good Haanderthan, which is convincing, but concentrating on getting the words out right, her voice is too soft for the crowd to hear properly. She is shouting them in her mind but in practice few in the audience can catch each word. “For whether revealed by the brilliance of Aroden’s eye, or the long red shadows cast by your Dark Lord’s fiery gaze, a man false at heart and shrouded in hollow faiths is nothing more than a traitor to all. Let him that judges false be judged by wraiths—smote by his own brand shall he fall.”
Varius weaves and bobs amongst the people, dancing from foot to foot as he speaks, the ribbons on his glaive trailing through the air. “A wretched deceiver wouldst slay us with lies. Me, I agree with the Pall-o-Dine’s eyes. Be ware, that I, with no care in the world, wouldst stand by Lazarod to see the truth unfurled.”
Catina takes a deep breath in for her first words of the play. She’s rehearsed these a hundred times, knowing she absolutely needs a good start. It takes her no effort to confront Thesing and face his hateful stare. “Larazod knows no lies, great magistrate, and no slanderer’s tongue caresses my dignity. The accusations you speak are as true as Asmodeus’s sword. They cleave clean through. Let the witnesses suffer no more lash. To burn their innards with pokers and steal their eyes is simply to waste precious toil better spent in Asmodeus’s service. There is but one point misaligned in this dark constellation—I seek not your death, though the secrets you harbor in your feeble heart deserve a gruesome demise. I carry no assassin’s blade, nor breath-stealing spell to rob your mortality. To end you I need only know you, and to cast you in an honest shade. I pierce your “shadows of truth” and show you for what I know—a false knave, a demon-supping wag-tail, a balor’s bawd, a pus-leaking cataract in the eye of Asmodeus’s justice, and subject to the multi-handed ministrations of a marilith whore, dretchloving plunderer, and traitor to our great Dark Lord.”
There is much commotion among the council.
Varius’ mouth falls open in a huge comic gape at Larazod’s words, not particularly adding to the drama of the scene.
Calseinica whispers something aside, a mischievous smile painted on her lips. She’s a talented actress, no doubt about that: if a genuine woman like her can smile so mischievously, she has to be a great actress, after all. “And to think I almost spent this session in the orgybaths of Kalrath. None of their fleshy delights could compare to the ecstasy this half-breed’s words stroke within me! See his fierce aspect burn in fury, even below the tribunal’s culling justice. But how shall Haanderthan answer?”
Thesing seems particularly eager to steal the scene to his fellow actors, and addresses the crowd melodramatically. “Heavy words for a forked tongue to manage, boy. You juggle them well enough, but like a poor fool, offer jest and jape. I assume this glib outrage, obviously a threadbare attempt to throw off the keening blade of justice, is backed by the testimony of a thousand law-loving fiends? Perhaps the ancient augurer at your side, ever your father’s faithful lap-lizard, probed the ancient secrets of the cosmos and uncovered my blasphemous treachery? Or have you a soulbonded scroll of bone-white parchment upon which my scrawled hand appears next to some Abyssal conspirator? You amuse me, half-breed,”, but it’s clear that Catina does not amuse Thesing at all, judging by his expression “and it is the only reason your sniveling soul is not yet blasted away in hellfire and borne on a river of sorrow to some ignominious corner of the Nine. Whereof comes this lunacy? What disease vexes your broken mind? From what mystery of psychosis do you draw your lies?”
Petals moves forward, waving to Haanderthan “You mewl lies like a sullied maid on her wedding night, O Great One. Even a lord may be smote in darkness as Asmodeus sees the truth of you—a base and lowly thing, snivelling in crimson robes.” she laughs loudly at her own insult, the only part of her performance loud enough for the crowd to hear. Turning toward the crowd, treating them like the citizens in her next lines “These devil-bowing citizens about us are affront enough to Aroden’s divine will, but ye, whose left hand clasps devil’s claws, and right reaches out for demonic boon—oh double-dealing fiend-lover, who allies with the Abyss. Infernal oaths and Abyssal blasphemy spew in one breath from your twisting lips.” They continue to barely react to her words, even though they are perfect in tone and emotion. Out in the crowd she sees them whisper, a snide smirk toward her, one laughing arrogantly in their hand. Petals starts to realize she is doing something wrong.
Thesing laughs at Petals, and you have the impression that it does not cost him any effort to deride the elf. “Does your Aroden arse-kissing pall-a-dine put you up to such resounding blasphemy? Have you no tongue of your own, half-breed, to answer my charge?”
Relieved that she didn’t flub her first lines, Catina tries to be strong, despite the shackles. She tries to put Thesing on the defensive. “Truth is spoken freely in many tongues, false magistrate, and by agents of light and dark. You know what you are.” She throws a lot of scorn in the last words, thinking back to when she and Alessandro caught Thesing.
“You persist in this foolishness? It shall go hard for you and yours. Recant and your deaths shall be swift, your souls consigned to diligent service in Hell. Refuse, and enlist in agony’s service, consign your soul to wallow in the most ignominious corner of the Nine, and take eternal suffering as your bedmate.”
Calseinica gives a lustful look at Catina, and she’s so good at doing so, that for a moment everyone could swear that she truly desires her. (Aside) “He’s to have a much more interesting bedmate, if I’ve anything to say. The fire that one shows at tribunal, will no doubt burn even stronger between my sheets.”
Faustinia raises an eyebrow at Calseinica (a motion exaggerated by the bushy false hair glued to those as well) and turns to face the audience, putting a hand on one side of her mouth to address them in a conspiratorial stage whisper, “That one grows hot betwixt her infernal thighs. Hope beyond hope. One voice of dissent on the council and the slenderest chance of salvation is ours to clutch. Let this waxen sliver of hope not melt until she does—let her find her tongue.” She tries to maintain a fairly neural tone as she comments on Larazod’s frankly erotic salvation. To talk about the young actress whom she had just recently befriended like this is uncomfortable, but she tries not to let that show for the sake of the performance.
Thesing seems nervous, almost as if he expected Catina to change the play and confess her sins. “Speak, boy. Do you still baffle with false charges, or have your battered wits returned? Speak.”
“I recant nothing. You, accuser, so stand accused. How do you answer?” Despite herself, Catina sighs at the end of her line, knowing that it was her last for this act. She can follow the story unfold for a while.
“Innocent, of course. And so judgment is passed. My right as magistrate puts you to the flames on my command. My word is law.”
“Respectfully, my lord,” Faustinia interjects with obviously feigned respect, “when I was a barrister of the tribunal, it was common practice to ask Consular Consent in any judgement of a matter involving the Magistrate personally in the case. Has the ancient code of Asmodeus’s court, scorched on the Tablets of Law by our Great Lord’s own fiery talon, so fallen as to warrant its complete disregard in this tribunal?” she asks pointedly with a wry smile.
Thesing smirks unpleasantly. “Of course, you are correct, old man. I’ve no intention of affronting our Great Lord. Council, what say ye on this matter? Do you concur with my judgment? These heinous slanders cast upon my great name warrant utter annihilation. So sayeth I, Magistrate of this Gloried Tribunal. Do you agree?”
Councillors mutter and call “Aye.”
Calseinica smirks at Thesing and smiles at Catina and the others. “Nay.”
Thesing gives a disdainful look at Calseinica. “My ears deceive me. Do you, august erinyes, daughter of Hell, speak against our cause?”
Calseinica smirks in response, letting out all of her hate against Thesing. “I speak against your judgment. Our cause is yet undetermined by my mark. According to our oldest codes, truth can be drawn from an offender, as pus from a wound. Asmodeus’s Trials show the true heart from the false. Why, simply put the half-breed to the flames. Let us try him properly in accordance with the old ways.”
“Well done, lad.” Faustinia throws her arm around Catina's shoulder and gives her a jocular shake. “Your pretty infernal face is good for something, even if your tongue offends all who hear. We may live yet.”
Thesing snorts. “Tut, the business of the tribunal heaps higher day by day. We’ve cases waiting in the wings by the thousands. Penitent souls singing out for justice. Shall we delay their flight to Asmodeus’s waiting embrace to engage in infantile contests? Nay, expediency is our charge when matters so lacking in evidence are brought before our bench.”
Calseinica smiles lustfully at Thesing. She knows what she’s doing, and she’s a bold woman, no doubt about it. “Come, come, sweet magistrate. The spectacle of a few trials would do my poor heart well. I wane at these tiresome sessions. Let the trials commence. ’Twould arouse me. ’Twould tickle me. ’Twould drive me to distraction.”
Thesing catches Calseinica lustful smile and gains enthusiasm. “Trials you say? How now? If it is to be so, let us sweeten the pot. A price I would exact for trials as you insist. If this half-breed fails, not only is my name cleared of all preposterous charges, but you shall compact to me for a full moon’s service, to do my bidding and satisfy all my unwholesome needs.”
Calseinica shrugs, the lustful smile still on her lips. “Let it be so agreed. I hunger so for trials, I happily wager my body to your whim. We shall see if this half-breed’s words strike true or false.”
Alessandro can’t help but stare and Calseinica as she delivers her lines. Her devil costume is revealing to the extreme and leaves little to the imagination. Watching her feign arousal towards Larazod certain has aroused him. Is she a succubus or an erinyes? I don’t really know much about planar beings. I suppose it doesn’t really matter. Wow!
“So be it. Larazod, you stand in trial. By my discretion you shall face six of Asmodeus’s fell tests. You stand alone in the face of terrors over which no mortal has prevailed.”
While the others spoke, Petals was finally starting to understand. She… she was miserably messing up. Her voice cracked as she tried to continue “Not a-” she pauses, silence long and deadly “-lone” her pretty eyes closing, claiming, finally pushing forward “Not Alone, my lord. I stand with him.” her voice clear and loud for the first time.
Thesing gives an harsh look at Petals. “You are under no obligation to do so, Arodenite. Back down and be discharged, to keep at your slobbering benedictions for a few more years at least.”
Her face set, her fist beats against her fake plate armor, and loudly proclaims “I am true to Aroden, my lord, but I am also true in loyalty and kinship. This man, though half-fiend his blood may turn, is bound to me in brotherhood, as I stand bound to him. Our blades both matched the enemies of Cheliax, and what faith divides, common cause unites. You cannot sunder me from his destiny. I stand trial at his side, as is my right, if I so beclaim it.” She looks to her right to Faustinia. “Is it not so, Dentris?”
“’Tis true, my lord. If the half-brained, light-blinded knight wishes to perish alongside my good master, he is within his lawful right,” Faustinia confirms.
“Very well. Burn with him, fool. Dentris Maltrada, you are hereby discharged.”
“Nay sir,” she again contradicts Thesing, “though I wish nothing more. This boy, as wayward as his fancies take him, is in my care. I never waivered from his father’s service, and I shall not turn my back on the son.”
“Surely, you’ve no wish to die?”
“There are worse fates, magistrate, than even can be promised on the deepest level of your Hell. To walk alive in a world, my duty undone, my sworn oath broken, is to walk through fires more smolderous than any Asmodeus keeps below. Though he be a fool, and possessed of a diseased wit, Larazod is my master, and I shall stand by him.” Faustinia turns to look at Catina, taking in the figure of her tiefling friend. Maybe she's just getting caught up in the play, but she draws on a deep and genuine desire to do what's best for the young woman. “Do your worst magistrate. I’ve rolled bones with demons, and gazed in dragons’ hearts. Let us have these trials and be done with my life, if the lords of darkness so command.”
“Doddering old sack of bones. No demon’s dice, nor dragon’s musings await you—only torment beyond the stars’ most infinite imaginings. When you mewl out for merciful death, I shall look on in pleasure, as your soul’s wake burns from a withered old corpse. Make ready, supplicants. The trials begin anon. May Asmodeus take pity on your blighted souls.”
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In this act, Larazod is affixed to a torturous implement referred to in the play as “the device.” This is a combination rack and wheel, meant to stretch the victim’s limbs and twist his body into increasingly painful positions. All the time, Drovalid must be inflicting whip strokes upon the three to further increase their torment. At the start of the act, the device is brought on stage to a chorus of impressed “oohs” and “ahhs” from the audience. Once it’s been thoroughly and dramatically displayed, Larazod is stripped down to a loincloth (making Catina unable to use equipment in this act as a result) and strapped into the device. The actor playing Drovalid is expected to strike at one of the three actors with a whip after each line is delivered from this point until Drovalid’s line that begins, “[i]He is as unbreakable as a marble tide,[i]” at which point the torments cease for the rest of the act.
TRIAL BY TORTURE
Catina should feel relieved that the first act well enough, but tension is so high that she's completely caught up in the swell. Seeing Calseinica act out her part to the fullest, having to be on stage with Thesing, let alone be close to him and spurring him on... Faustinia, who radiates love and commitment, ready to face whatever comes their way despite her age and frail nature... She shudders as the curtain closes, closing her eyes for just a moment for another prayer. Blessed Shelyn, guide to my heart. I pray that you guide us all on this day. I fear we may not even guess half of what is in store for us. But I have faith that You will help me through.
--
It doesn't take long for Catina's worst thought to come true. She could have guessed at the nature of the first trial, but the conscious part of her thoughts had always assumed - hoped - that Robahl wouldn't put them through this. It's one thing to let them fight monsters and illusions, but another thing entirely to ask Allesandro to actually whip them. She takes a deep breath and it ready to accept her fate, until she "device" that's being installed on stage. Oh Gods! Panic wells up in Caitna's chest as it becomes clear that she is expected to disrobe and mount the "device". I can't... I can't... Her breathing comes fast and ragged while she whips her head around, involuntarily looking for escape.
In that moment, her eye falls upon Calseinica, who must be terrified as well. The tiefling girl puts a hand on her chest to still her beating heart, and feels the familiar bracelet beneath her shift. Slowly, she gets her breath under control, whispering softly to herself. "It's ok... It's ok... I have friends, and they're looking out for me. It's ok..." She takes another deep breath and - still trembling - she walks out on stage to the device. As she passed her friends, she takes a moment for Allesandro. It must be worse for him. What a vicious and awful play this is! She puts on a brave face for her companion's sake. "It's OK, Alessandro. Wounds will heal, and we all do what we must. I'm tougher than I look. We have to pull this off." With that and a final deep breath, she walks on stage and allows herself to be strapped in, accompanied by the Visbaronettes' aria.
--
Outwardly calm, Varius takes a moment to fix his face paint, already sweating through it from the sheer nerves of the performance. Also, a fairly hot stage. He tries to shoot people reassuring glances as he prepares for act two. A good, long look at the device and the whip in Alessandro's hand finally causes nerves to kick in.
He's... he's really going to whip us. This isn't practice any more. Oh Gods... I don't want to be whipped!
Varius clenches and unclenches his hands around the glaive, and spots Catina trying to calm down Calseinica. Everyone looks worried. While normally one to never shut up and isntead offer words of confidence, he just keeps silent, and when it comes time to walk onstage he summons every bit of will to stalk out.
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With her invisible armor over her lavish but otherwise unprotected costume, Faustinia hopes to avoid stone trouble going forward, starting even this early in the play when the danger of injury comes from her ally. In between acts, she whispers to Alessandro, ”No need to go wild with that whip, but no need to risk faking it either. Try me once or twice - I'm not as old and frail as I look, I can endure, she reassures their Drovalid with a lively twirling of her mustache. She takes a deep breath before heading out on stage, mentally thanking fate that this scene doesn't require much from her personally.
---
Petals is deep crimson between acts, wanting nothing more than to run away. Still her friends help simply by being there and not disappointed. She tells herself she can do better, ready to face the net act when they bring in the device. They can't expect to you... she looks in horror at Catina. Seeing brave face she is putting on, Petals feels ashamed for her own fear. She smiles and nods at the others. I volunteer as well. she agrees with Faustinia when she talks to Alessandro. The crowd will love an Aldon paladin getting whipped, plus waiting tables for as long as I have, I've had worse. looking around to the others 1 down, just 6 more to go! with a spring in her step she didn't entirely feel she goes on stage.
Alessandro delivers his lines well and his whip strikes are very convincing. Some of them are even real. He's glad that after this scene, he'll stand with his allies instead of against them, no matter what they may face.
”Good Keeper of Pain, Tormentor of Liars and Demonsuckling Miscreants, we are honored by your presence. Show these supplicants the favor of your stinging lash, and with rack and fire, purge lies from their lips. Break their souls, and let the mad and guilty appall our ears no more with ranting.”
Alessandro steps out onto the stage prepared to make his debut performance. Although they’ve practiced this act many times during rehearsal it had always been with props. This time is it real. Alessandro isn’t on the receiving end of the whip but he feels for his friends who are about to endure his strikes and hopes that he doesn’t cut too deep.
”Magistrate Maleficarum, I come before you a simple hand whose lash is guided by the greater glory of Asmodeus, may my scourge do him and this devoted tribunal proud. With your permission I shall begin our first trial.”
”Begin at your leisure, Tormentor.”, says Thesing with a pleased grin. “End this fool’s mockery of our court with cleansing agony. Enter the Device and other implements of torture.”
Drovalid begins administering agonizing pain upon a stoic Larazod.
Catina is terrified, but steels herself for Alessandro’s sake. It will only be worse for him if he sees me cry out She seeks eye contact and nods at him. reassuring him once more.
Alessandro consulted with Millech before this act for an added surprise. As he raised his whip for the first time, an illusionary fire lights along its length. It does not burn but adds to his character as a tormentor from Hell. The first strike hits Catina hard. I’m sorry, Catina. The second strike is aimed at Petals and mercifully comes up short.
As the lash hits her, Catina does cry out, then quickly bites back the pain. Well, I did tell him it was OK. She shudders and finds that such movement only causes the device to twist her arms into an even more painful position, which causes her to cry out again. Resolving to move as little as she can, she looks down at her chest and finds to her amazement that the whip has left a lighter mark than she had assumed. Despite the pains, she snort a laugh. Fiendish blood. And skin… I guess I am tougher than I look.
”Fools,” Faustinia spits, ”good master may be a fool of a tiefling, but if you think to wrack his spine, and wheedle mewled recantation from his black lips, you are even greater fools than he. Larazod is no coward, and he sneers in the face of pain with true faith in Asmodeus—he cannot waver. He faced Abyssal Tyrants and hordes of their slime-ridden minions in battle. His coal-black soul did not quake then. He stands resolute now. You cannot break his spirit.”
”Recant half-breed. Admit your twisted falsehoods, serpent-tongued traitor!”
Alessandro hits Catina’s back again and follows up with a hit with against Faustinia. In a slightly different situation this could be considered kinky. Focus, Alessandro, focus.
The second strike hurts, as had the first, but Catina’s resolve holds. ”Even an ocean of agony cannot turn truth to lie. More bone-crunching, skin-flensing torment.” She breathes in, finding that she can face and glare at Thesing again, despite her predicament. ”More!”
This time the lash strikes Faustinia, and the old woman winces and hisses with a sharp intake of breath. The hit isn't very deep, but the difference between the injuries she had incurred before and an implement designed to evoke pain is surprising. She mutters a few curses through clenched teeth and tries to concentrate on anything besides the feeling of hot blood welling up in her wound.
”Recant and end this trial! Swift death shall embrace you and Asmodeus smiles upon those who admit their falsehoods—he may not rend your soul completely, may leave some semblance of your spirit intact.”
Alessandro maintains his persona and delivers his line with strength and anger. He performs his whips perfectly this line. Pulling back just before hitting the skin but the SNAP elicits gasps from the audience. Hey. Not bad, Alessandro, he compliments himself.
”I recant…” She gasps at a third hit, worried for Faustinia and how the noblewoman would take this punishment, but is now firmly caught up in her role. ”...nothing!” To her amazement, she finds the the involuntary pause only added to the dramatic effect, leaving the audience gasping. The words that she had struggled with in the rehearsals now seem to come natural to her, angry as she is with what the play is putting them through, but determined to see it though. ”Grind on, honeyed torment. Sing sweetly as I may, no cries of “recant” shall you hear. I hate lies, as I hate demon-loving traitors.” And devil-loving traitors, she can’t help but add in her mind. Despite the pain, she knows what comes next. ”More torture.”
Alessandro’s next strikes misses, and Catina makes eye contact with her companion for a moment before delivering her line. She’s thankful for the momentary reprieve, and uses the failed strike to infuse her next lines directed at Thesing. ”Had enough, Magistrate? Can you withstand it any longer? Please give in and recant, for the only torment I cannot bear is your continued duplicity. Recant, Magistrate! Recant your own lies, and Asmodeus may have mercy on your slimy soul.”
Seeing Catina get whipped completely unnerves Varius, who completely forgets his place in the play and indeed what has to happen next. As the whip comes for him, he’s dead silent, braced for pain which never comes as the tip never finds its mark. Afterwards, there’s an awkward pause on stage as he forgets his next line.
Petals flinches as the whip snaps inches from her face. She breathes in relief, not knowing if Alessandro missed on purpose to spare her or not. Still seeing the others struck makes her so angry she could spit.
”Ha! she cries out voice clear and full of righteous rage. Even in the face of soul-crushing pain, he taunts this ridiculous Magistrate of Hell. Hear me, Aroden! she raises her head and yells to the heavens if Asmodeus has such as Larazod in his employ, all our efforts are doomed. Would your white fist command such steadfast loyalty as this one here, who laughs at death and grins at the grimmest pain.” her smirk to their tormentor has a little too much understanding and sympathy to the hell he is going through at the moment, but the audience is too far away to notice… hopefully.
(Aside) ”Such a sweet voice. I long to hear his screams more—ah, but to elicit them myself, with a soulburning kiss, and an aching embrace. This torture is most stimulating, though I do hope the Tormentor doesn’t mar the tiefling’s choicest parts. Leave off those! They belong to me alone!”
Calseinica’s sensual look, combined with the memory of yesterday’s kiss, bring a colour to Catina’s cheeks. She wants to meet the woman’s gaze, but finds herself looking away while blushing.
(Exhausted) ”Recant!”
Alessandro doesn’t need to feint exhaustion. This scene has been physically and mentally draining on him but he knows it must be even worse for the women. His first whip strike hits Catina again. Oops. The next one misses Faustina. That’s more like it The last hit critically hits a little too hard digging a gash on the nape of her neck. I’ll make this up to you somehow. I promise.
Catina bites her teeth to face the lash again, glad in the knowledge that it will be the last. Luckily, this last one seems to sting less than the previous ones. Alessandro plays it really well, a part of her manages to think despite the pain. She hasn’t failed to notice that he made feeble attempts at striking the others. Spurred on by the relief that her (first) torment is over, she spits out her words. ”Never! Lash every inch of flesh from me, leave only a bloody ruin where I stand—that skinned wreck of a man will gurgle only truth and never recant.”
Drovalid ends torment and casts down his whip.
Alessandro doesn’t need coaxing to get rid of the bloody scourge and stomps on it hard to crush it into the stage.
”He is as unbreakable as a marble tide—dragon’s scale would have shattered long ago—and yet he stands unbowed. No lie can evade this unholy lash of mine, gifted to me by Asmodeus himself. Larazod must speak the truth!”
”Fool! Continue the trial, you’ve yet to probe deep enough into his soul’s painful lies!”
”My work is done. My findings true. You have never doubted my hand before. Why do you so now? Could it be this tiefling speaks true? Are you allied against our august master of darkness?”
Alessandro gets some guilty pleasure at defying Thesing even if it is in character.
Thesing stands up, a grimace of hate on his visage. ”Mind your place, Tormentor! You speak blasphemy in the face of this land’s own Magistrate Maleficarum. Beware, your words endanger your very soul. Take you this halfbreed’s part? Then you would join him on his trials? Don’t be a fool.”
”If Asmodeus wishes it so then my soul stands with his. If my hand has failed you, then I shall burn for it. I shall face the remaining five trials at Larazod’s side.”
Alessandro helps Catina off the rack and helps her stand beside him and the others. He holds his head up proud as he delivers his last line of scene. Thankful for the help and eager to put some distance between herself and the device, Catina leans on Alessandro at first, squeezing him gently out of sight of the audience. However, she knows what’s coming next and rights herself to confront Thesing.
”So be it, traitor. Your rending death, and his, shall be my vindication. Bring on the second trial!”
The second act ends with an outstanding ovation from the audience!
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In this act, five of the actors are subjected to the trial of pleasure—the “Flukes of Asmodeus” are fictitious creations of the playwright, but the rot grubs who play their roles are very real. When each is applied, it is the actor’s duty to act as if in the throes of unbridled passion while the rot grub burrows through his flesh before cutting the rot grub out with the offered knife. The knives bear minor magical enhancements that make them particularly efficient at cutting out rot grubs—this magic only persists for the length of this act, but while it does, any Heal check made to cut out a rot grub with one of these knives gains a +6 circumstance bonus (using these special knives is tradition, as having the actors die so soon is generally regarded as anticlimactic, even by the most bloodthirsty of directors or audiences).
TRIAL BY PLEASURE
Between Acts II and III Alessandro helps tend to the other's wounds. "I don't have any medical skill, but please let me help." He mainly tends to Catina since she was the most injured. He can at least wrap bandages to absorb the blood.
Alessandro looks at the grub. This can't be that bad. Surely, it's no worse than a whipping.
He applies the grub pretends to be in ecstasy instead of pain. He performs exceptionally well. So well in fact that the grub escapes him. He doesn't realize how fast this creature can move. He digs the knife into his skin but the worm squirms out of the way and burrows even deeper. Alessandro's ecstasy quickly becomes actual horror as the grub digs deeper and deeper. He stabs at himself with the enchanted knife but to no avail. In less than a minute, he is on the ground, convulsing, and bleeding to death.
Between acts she does what Alessandro does, but mentally instead of physically. You did amazing! she tells each of the actors. They loved it, and not just cause we were being tortured. Well I think they liked that part a lot too, but also cause we were simply AMAZING! Never before had she received an ovation like that, never before was she in front of an audience this size either. It was like being drunk in a way, brightening her eyes and smile in delight. But despite the thrill coursing through her body, all she really wanted was this to be over. Twice as much when the worms came out.
Catina smiles at Petals' enthousiasm, but that is a grim tone on her smile. She didn't relish the applause yet, as she had the day before at the end of the dress rehearsal; there was still too much to be done, as some many challenges that she worried about. The tiefling girl gladly assists Alessandro's help between the acts, standing still as some bandages are administrered. "At least I'll be able to wear my costume again. You did well, Alessandro. I wouldn't have liked to be in your position." She gently guides Alessandro as he applies the bandages. "Yes, here. And just a bit tighter." She laughs for a moment. "Who would have thought my lessons in anatomy at the temple would ever be useful? I thought that skill was almost unused, since priests all have magical healing." He laugh turns grim again. "There's still a lot before us, and I'd rather spare my healing. Thanks, Alessandro. This is good." She dresses again, ready to face the next act.
--
Catina looks disgusted as the rot grubs are brought out, but they don't shake her confidence. She remember what it was like the day before, at the dress rehearsal, and she focuses on achieving that state of mind again. It helps that she feels reasonably confidant that she can deal with the burrowing grub. Thank you indeed for the lessons, Mistress Audilia. Before it's her time, however, she has to watch Alessandro deal with his grub. She watches the man struggle with his knife, driving the thing further down with each hack at his arm. She can't bear to watch it, and after his second botches attempt she decides to improvise and interfere. She barks a laugh, as Lazard. "I can see you like torturing yourself as you did me, my friend. But it is not right for you to claim all this bliss for yourself. Be done with it, so that we may have our turn!" She takes his arm in her slender fingers, pointing with her thumb at where Alessandro should strike.
When Alessandro has recited his line, Catina knows it's her turn. She has a lot of text to deliver before she can take out the grub, but she doesn't waste time. She steels herself against the feeling of the grub worming its way in her arm, and then swiftly carves it out. She doesn't take any chances, and makes a deep cut. Rather right at first, then driving it deeper with my work
--
Varius heads backstage, still very much in his own head despite the enthusiastic response of the audience. He keeps to himself but offers a weak smile and nods to the others.
Why did I react like that? I've spent my whole life wishing for danger, and when I encounter it suddenly I'm incapable of handling it. Must do better.
Then he sees the rot grubs
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On stage, Varius gives a strong performance, writhing and shouting in somewhat embarrassing sexual ecstasy. However, when it comes time to cut out the rot grubs, he soon realizes there's some actual skill involved in this act. With increasing desperation, he becomes a mess of blood as he tries to get the grub out. In short order, he's collapsed to the ground, screaming in unbelievable agony as he's devoured from the inside.
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(10 con, 19/23 hp)
(8 con, 11/22 hp)
(6 con, 3/19 hp)
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Backstage, Faustinia scowls as she touches a hand to the back of her neck and brings it forward to see her bloody fingers. ”Sure, they loved it out there,” she agrees dryly with Petals, without any of the elf’s mirth. ”Please, don’t mistake my ire as being directed at any of you; I agree, we did wonderfully as far as the stage is concerned. But the trials are only going to get more gruesome, and this sadistic crowd is lapping it up like flies on a bleeding corpse. In short, they’re disgusting,” she complains, finding a clean rag to wipe off her fingers and put pressure on her wound to stop the bleeding.
---
After Alessandro fails to cut out the grub, Faustinia picks up on Catina’s attempts to help with some ad-libbed advice and tries to throw in some of her own. ”As Larazod says, leave some fluke for the rest of us. At this rate I shall die from old age before I can experience that ecstasy! Cut there, and let us have a moment of relief before my bold-tongued master plunges us into some hotter fire!”
Faustinia puts on a moderate performance during the next trial. As she takes the grub and it burrows through her flesh, she can’t help but think back to her escape from the sewers where she was nearly devoured by torbles, and in her shuddering fear she can feel the creature burning in her neck. The pain is intense, but local enough that she pinpoints it with the tip of the knife and cuts it out with a surgical precision.
After she’s done and it’s Varus’ turn, Faustinia tries to guide the young man in removing the grub as she did for Alessandro. ”Be quick, fool, as no one likes a clown who only amuses himself. One as giddy as you should have no trouble finding where it is that pleasure lives by feel alone.”
---
With Catina and Faustinia's assistance, Alessandro gets the grub out.
Once he's done delivering his lines, which are thankfully few, he falls to his knees exhausted. That was too close for comfort. If my friends didn't intervene, I'd have been done for. What an anticlimactic way to die that would have been. To think that a creature so small could cause so much damage.
After seeing how much trouble Varius has with his grub, Catina takes matters into her own hand. He's just here as a clown. Would it matter if I do it for him? Faustinia's words echo in her mind. Would the audience really cheer if we lose, and someone dies? She gives the audience a look of exasperation, as if they couldn't expect anything better from a clown. Then, she slices the grub from Varius' arm.
--
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Enter the bailiff bearing five vials and five curved flensing knives. He hands one of each to Dentris, Tybain, Larazod, and Drovalid.
Thesing smirks cruelly, his eyes shimmering with a perverse delight. His voice is imperious. ”It is said that a liar’s pain is easy to bear, but pleasure steals truth from even the most well-tended fortress. So let it be with ye, Larazod. Here before you now are the Flukes of Asmodeus.” The crowd clamors in delight. “Their bite more pleasurable than the caresses of a thousand succubi (which you no doubt have enjoyed, you treacherous Abyssal-loving fool). Taste of their deep burrowing bliss. Their rapturous journey through your body shall explore the deepest, darkest pleasures any mortal has ever known. Their soul-shuddering wanderings end in your skull, where they plant their young who consume you in an orgiastic frenzy—leaving you an empty husk of a thing—a spent lover, drooling in blissful oblivion forever. Unless, of course, you can resist these god-bending pleasures.” Thesing gives Catina a particularly nasty grin. “This time, the trial is not yours alone to bear. Let us see if your trusted companions’ faith remains as unshakeable as yours. Who shall be the first to die in spasms of ecstasy?”
Calseinica does her best to appear excited, when she’s in truth concerned, her faked lust only a mask for her worries. ”Oh, how I long to face this judgment!”
No, you don’t. thinks Alessandro.
”Master Larazod, most unholy saint of our dark Asmodeus, please allow me to prove my devotion to your cause. To think my biting lash flayed your chaste red skin, and cracked such a noble hide as yours. I shall be first to face this trial, if you so wish it.”
”Your courage is beyond question. Show this lickspittle Magistrate the meaning of devotion, my friend.”
Drovalid administers the fluke, convulses in sheer orgasmic ecstasy, but as it crawls up his arm he suddenly plunges a flensing blade beneath the skin.
The line calls for Drovalid to skewer the fluke but the fluke has other plans and escapes the knife. Alessandro’s eyes widen at his failure. Sensing his distress, Catina and Faustinia come to his aid and force the fluke out.
”Asmodeus bear witness to my devotion. This half-breed speaks only truth!”
Likewise, Larazod applies the fluke to his flesh, where it hungrily burrows beneath the surface. Larazod shudders in (faked) pleasure.”
”Oh, to be that fluke! To burrow into such sweet flesh!”
”I sing only of the joy of supplication to our dark lord. This pleasure is only a gift of Asmodeus’s truth. I
would gladly die at this fluke’s bite, but alas, my duty here is yet undone, and so I scorn this pleasure with a bleeding blade. I shall not relent until your lies are revealed, foul Magistrate.” Like the dress rehearsal, Catina finds that it helps think of Larazod of stoically enduring his passion. That way, she’s able to realistically bluff her way through without feeling too… exposed. She puts a hand to her chest as if the experience leaves her breathless, secretly feeling at the bracelet beneath her robe. Despite her confidence, she seeks some reassurance. I can’t botch this like Alessandro did. ”The blessing of faith is on my side,” she adds, invoking the power of Shelyn to guide her blade.
Larazod cuts out his fluke, and Catina holds it up for the audience to see, along with the blade that her spilled her blood. The crowd appreciates the gesture, and applauds. Catina then looks at Faustinia, who is next. She has faith in the noblewoman’s abilities, but stay alert to provide some ‘inspiration’ if necessary. The play calls for Dentris to leave it in, really long. I hope she doesn’t feel the need to do that.
Dentris applies his fluke.
”Oh! It has been so long! Sweet, aching ecstasy!” Faustinia cries out, trying to elicit sounds of pleasure from between clenched teeth as the grub burrows deep into her. She follows up with her quick improvisation of Tallis and his Three Wives, but she makes it shorter than the audience probably craves. She cuts the grub from her neck with deft precision, relying more on luck and horror than trained skill.
Farus bounces back, his limbs flailing wildly as he touches his fluke. He then elaborately strokes it before, with a slightly trembling hand, he lays it on his arm. ”Hnngh This wriggling worm is as a maiden’s tongue, but I must endure the pleasure and to our victories come!” Farus then tries to remove the grub with his knife, and when he fails to do so continues to cut as his arm with increasing intensity. After three attempts, Catina cannot bear to witness it any longer and performs the deed herself. The crowd rumbles in protest.
Faustinia tries to act disappointed that the horrible grub no longer crawls in her flesh, but her continued grimace suggests otherwise. She confides in Catina, ”Between you, my hideous half-breed young master, and a dream of three succubi’s frolics on my flesh—a hard choice, Larazod, but somehow your sweet countenance won out.”
To act a virgin after so many years, and so many acts attempting to not feel lonely, isn’t easy, but what is easy is acting reluctant to take part in this torture.
”My turn, I suppose.” Petals grumbles. Grasping the worm, pulling up her sleeve, and LETTING the evil little creature burrow into her skin. Petals fakes a giggling fit, then furiously tries to remember her first time. The memory is hazy, like most of hers, but only of the circumstances. The feeling she remembers very well. With flushed cheeks and a long moan, Petals exclaims ”Ooooh! Aaaaah! I know not this feeling!!!” Dear mercy, HURRY! she pleads internally to the others about their lines.
”Ha! Watch the virginal knight squirm!” Faustinia cries, but her heart isn’t in it.
Focusing on the memory, not the pain, she cries out ”It is as if a thousand feathers assault my flesh— especially my most… tender… parts.” her hands exploring with trembling grace ”What strange pleasure is this!” with closed eyes and open mouth she desperately tries to focus.
”Ah, Aroden’s servants, so like sweet children they be. Hold true, my dear friend!”
Whether due to hypersensitivity or divine grace, Petals knows exactly where the grub is, eating into her upper arm now. Without hesitation to harming herself she plunges the knife in, gutting the creature of misery and throwing it as far as away from her as possible.
Petals doesn’t need to fake the panting recovery the next line calls for. Opening her bright blue eyes and looking at the others, she smiles and proclaims ”I am well, though I may never be the same.”
Thesing seems to be a little disappointed that no one died in the process. He stands up and proclaims with rageful tone. ”Curse your persistence. All lies eventually reveal their ugly fangs. I shall draw them as venom from a wound.”
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The crowd roars its appreciation for the show they’ve just witnessed and the actors are allowed to retreat.
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Near the end of this act, a huge and curious sculpture of iron, polished wood, and green glass is wheeled onto the stage from behind the back curtain. The sculpture is that of a vast serpent, it’s mouth large enough for a human-sized creature to slip inside, its belly made of transparent but very thick glass. The “Beast’s” tail is raised high and its head kept low so that a person on the stage can climb in easily. The glass belly is half filled with acid—the actors must clamber into the Beast’s maw and slide down into its transparent belly, one per round. Once all five actors are in the belly, stagehands dressed as lemures lumber out and tug on the sculpture’s head and tail, which wheel about on a set of rollers around the transparent belly so that the tail hangs low and the head rears high. Once this is done, the actors within must climb up the beast’s throat and out of its upraised maw before the acid kills them.
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TRIAL IN THE BELLY OF THE BEAST
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With the crowd roaring approval, Varius heads backstage, weak from blood loss and clutching his mangled arm. Without asking anyone, he grabs a potion from his belt and down it. He lets out a load groan of relief as the wound on his arm partially closes up.
Come on Varius. You gave yourself that stupid name because you intend to fight for something. Stop panicking and show some poise.
Varius takes a long moment to speak as he composes himself. He then smiles weakly as he looks to the others. "Well that was the worst thing I've ever done to myself. Thank you for your aid, sincerely. I intend to repay it however possible. I expected to be invovled in swordplay with a skeleton or something and so this is not "
Varius takes a bit to fix the twirly cloth on his glaive and after looking at his torn costume, decides to keep it that way. The play is more exciting if someone looks like he's about to die, after all. Leaning heavily on his glaive, he pulls himself to his feet.
"Well now, considering what we expected from rehearsal this is all going rather splendidly, isn't it? At least for the audience. Now, what do we have next? The Belly of the Beast shall see us 'washed in acid'. That sounds nice. And I... I don't want to think about the Birthing Trial. Perhaps combat and love will let me actually stab something."
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Petals agrees completely with Varius It was horrible. The pain, them Watching! Ugh... she wraps her arms around herself and shudders.
You're still wounded. Petals notices after he drinks the potion. We'll probably need Catina's superior magic later. Mine is mostly for show, so... she places her palm over her wound prayers to the song maiden's mercy.
She inspects the wound which is now at least lesser. Sorry she admits to never having been the best healer, daydreaming instead of meditating.
Alessandro is next. Warm light being the strongest on his wounds. Our beautiful lady must really like you. she teases Or she just realized you needed it most. I thought that worm was going to end up in your brain in a few seconds, and had no idea how to help.
Lastly she does the same to her own deep gash in her arm. Then she starts stripping off her armor and weapons, leaving only her white chemise. I'm surprised they didn't want us to do this act naked. Seems just like those creatures out there would desire.
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Catina drags her feet in getting back to the Green room. Once she's there, she sees the others have already started healing. "Oh, I'm sorry. I might have..." She doesn't finish her sentence, but rather says something else. "Thanks for taking care of them, Petals." She looks somewhat dejected, despite the crowd's reaction. Of maybe because of it. "I think Faustinia may have been right. They're just here to see bloodshed." She takes out the familiar bracelet from beneath her costume and fiddles with it. It seems to soothe her worries. "No. We can't think like that. There must be some who actually enjoy seeing this, but just as many may be here because their peers expect them to. And maybe they secretly root for us. That's why they're cheering, because we're facing and defeating all these hideous 'challenges'."
She wipes the blood from her arm and drinks a healing potion. She then puts a hand on Varius's shoulder. "We can't think like that, getting ahead of ourselves. Let's just take it one step at a time." While stripping down to her shift - again, she goes over the spells she had prepared that morning. "I must say I had expected more fighting as well, against things we could hit. However, I might have the perfect prayer for this thing. If we're to be 'washed in acid' as Varius says, I can protect someone from that. Long enough for the entire Act, I'm sure. Should I use it on myself? As Lazarod, it'd make sense for me to go first, and leave last. And that way I can stay in for as long as needed, to heal the others."
--
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Varius grins weakly over to Catina. "I'm an optimist. Some, lesser souls would say 'It can't get any worse' I say 'Oh yes it can!'. And of course they're here to see bloodshed. We're a spectacle, not art. Our best is Thesing's worst when it comes to acting. It's not like Thesing could show up at your temple and start healing boils with a week's worth of study. The important thing is the audience applauded - we want to come out of here alive and popular with the well-to-do. So far, so good."
He languidly shakes the vial of cure potion over his mouth, trying to get the last drop out. When Petals comes to heal him, he lets out a long 'ahhh' as his wounds mostly close. He smiles at the elf.
"Thank you Petals. Your beauty is more beauteous than the most beautiful of beauties and uh, then some. And yes, I do say that to all the girls who heal rot grub injuries. Where was I? Oh yes - Catina you should certainly enter first in that case. Makes fine sense."
Some of the tension bursts out of Petals in a delighted but suspicious laugh, "I think there might be something stronger than magic in that potion of yours, Varius. And if there is, you should be sharing."
...
Looking out at the big bottle of acid on stage, she hugs herself "I can smell it from here..." then more quietly, she adds "I think I'm going to be sick."
During intermission, Alessandro uses the potion of lesser restoration that he bought to restore the bodily effects of the rot grub. He regrets not having more to share but even the one that he purchases cost nearly his entire savings.
"There's still plenty of acts remaining for the Church of Asmodeus to hurl some kind of devil for us to fight. Each challenge only seems to get worse and worse. As if letting a grub burrow through our flesh wasn't bad enough, now we are expected to bath in acid. I knew the Wiscarni nobles were bad before, but I'll never be able to look at them the same way after this."
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Faustinia takes the opportunity of the intermission to rest, sitting down and hoping that her dizziness goes away soon. Although she didn't deal with the grub for as long as some of the others, the older woman still looks paler than usual. She had mostly managed to stay out of harm's way as an Eye of Westcrown, as she clearly isn't made to stand up to direct punishment like this.
Once she catches her breath, she chimes in, ”Yes, Catina, you should go first. Protect yourself, and we may yet make it out of this.” Faustinia takes another look at the monstrosity on stage that they've agreed to subject themselves to. Fear wells up in her stomach, along with the urge to cry, No! Protect me, for the love of your goddess, girl - give me your spell before my bones dissolve for the entertainment of these animals. Instead, she gulps, trying to swallow her fear. She just adds, ”Just let me go last, but before Calseinica. I don't know if I can take this one.”
⁞⁞⁞⁞ ⁞⁞⁞⁞
”Such horrors. What next?” Faustinia asks; her distress doesn't need to be feigned.
Varius cartwheels, a little sloppily onto stage before bouncing up and down as he speaks. ”More pain and torment for Farus and thee, but Lazarod’s truth will set us free!”
”Hold true, old man.” Catina hesitates just a bit before calling Faustinia old. It somehow became more difficult to see the whole thing as a play; throughout the challenges things become more personal.
”Easy for you to say! Youth laughs at death as a stranger. As you grow older you come to know it well—and fear it.” The older wizard can't help but feel the truth in her lines - especially now with the next trial looming.
”I have seen young and old break before this court. They all share one thing: a weak and watery eye speaking to a frailty of spirit. Your eyes are like grit and sand, obstinate even in the face of the storm-fraught sea. You cannot break, old wizard.”
Alessandro takes Faustinia’s arm and walks her closer to the beast. I speak inspiration, but they are empty words. We will not escape this horror unscathed.
Faustinia hopes he's right. ”Perhaps not, but tell me, Tormentor—what fresh horrors await?”
”Here follows the Trial in the Belly of the Beast. A great terror, gifted to this court by a Duke of Hell, the Beast is a hideous thing, whose stomach is a nest of acid-spewing serpents. It shall swallow us whole, and wash us clean in its acid well.”
”Where is the “trial” in this!?”
”If we are innocent, and speak no lies, then the Beast’s Belly will leave us unscathed.”
I wish this were true. Alessandro thinks.
”Madness!” Petals cries out, a word never spoken with more truth.
Catina wishes that Alessandro’s words would have been true. ”Hold fast, my dear friend. Have faith in Asmodeus.” She takes this moment to cast her spell, using it to add to the drama. While her magic is normally quite subdued, she adds just a bit of ‘bling’ for the audience’s sake.
With her hand to her heart, the fair paladin shoots back, more at the audience than Larazod. ”But I do not!” Another line that takes no acting.
”Well then you better learn to swim.” The tiefling girl tries to sounds witty, but there’s entirely too much sympathy in her voice...
Thesing laughs maniacally and stands up to tower above your from his high seat. ”The next trial demands a great sacrifice. Ye, who speaks for the half-breed, the lone traitor on the council who speaks against my august personage. You must brave this trial, and all that follow, alongside the accused.”
Calseinica bursts into a laughter. She looks up at Thesing with a gaze of defiance. (Laughing) ”Gladly! I stand at this tiefling’s side, or at his back, or him at mine, or perhaps I should bolster him up from below or allow him to do the same to me.” Calseinica gives an eager look to Catina, her eyes lingering on the tiefling girl’s body. “You shall see how devotedly I attend his pleasure, for he speaks the truth.” Catina had felt this gaze on her multiple times at the rehearsals, but she’s still not used to it. Despite her attempt to act stoic, she colours and looks uneasy.
Thesing boils with rage and points his finger at Calseinica. ”Then burn with him.”
Ilsandra joins the companions, and embraces Larazod with a fiery kiss. He surrenders to her pleasures.
“I’m sorry Cat, but we have to do it!”, whispers the starlet in the tiefling’s ear. “It was not that bad, after all” Calseinica darts a blink to Catina, then turns to her in a much louder voice.
”Know the gifts of Asmodeus, dear child. You have earned great boons by your devoted service, and I shall pay them all with interest. But soft, what terror approaches? Our pleasures must wait.”
The kiss leaves Catina unsettled, but luckily not as much as the day before, during the dress rehearsal. Still, the following wink does little to lighten the tiefling girl’s confusion. Not bad? No, of course not. But… but… I’d never even kissed a boy.
Enter the Beast.
Farus springs backwards, his limbs flailing wildly in reaction to the entrance of the Beast. He collapses on his back, letting out an almost inaudible groan of pain before he nips up to his feet.
Grateful for Varius’s interjection, to give her some time to regain her breath, Catina steps closer to the Beast and puts up her fist to taunt it. ”Come, horror, I shall tear my way from your gizzard with the white-hot blade of my truth.”
”Die though I might, melted to a puddle of liquid flesh in the bowels of the Beast, I cannot think of any greater man to join in death. I am honoured to die at the side of a man so filled with truth.”
”Come and have a bite, Old Beastie. These old bones shall stick in your craw and choke the life from you.” Despite her bold fatalistic words, Faustinia tries to hide her trepidation. She swallows hard and clenches her white-knuckled fists.
Petals twirls a bit allowing her thin shift to mold a little more to her body. Might as well flaunt a bit she tells herself before falling into a kneeling prayer to deliver her lines. Might not be much left to flaunt after this ”My holy flesh shall burn all the way down. Aroden’s blessings upon my soul ensure a most unpleasant meal for this Beast.”
The Beast devours them. They fight their way free from his gizzard.
⁞⁞⁞⁞ ⁞⁞⁞⁞
The crowd roars its approval once again, but from their faces, everyone could suggest that all they’re waiting for, now, is some blood.
Catina is the first one to enter in the Beast’s belly, accompanied by a round of applauses. The tiefling girl’s eyes meet Arael’s ones for a moment—the half-elf is sitting among the crowd, accompanied by Ailyn and Janiven at his sides. But the look lasts only for a moment, because Catina then enter the belly and has to fight for her life. Unfortunately, acid is the only element Catina is vulnerable to. Anyway, where he fiendish heritage can’t protect her, Catina can rely on the power of her goddess, which she invoked before entering the Beast’s belly.
Catina’s spell efficaciously protects her from acid. She has to feign some pain, however, since just like her, Lazarod being a tiefling, he’s not immune nor resistant to acid. But even though she has to play her part, Catina has still time to heal her companions as they are in Beast’s belly.
Catina is also resilient enough to avoid the noxious effects of the acrid fumes.
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It’s Alessandro’s turn. Unlike Catina, Alessandro can’t protect himself from acid, and will have to fight for his life inside the belly. Before entering into the Beast, Alessandro could swear to have heard Calseinica sighing, but if he turns to her, the starlet just smiles confidently.
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Varius quickly follows Alessandro.
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Right after Varius, it’s Petals’ turn.
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Next is Lady Faustinia.
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The last one to enter is Calseinica. With her in the belly, the actors can start to escape the beast. The crowd, in the meantime, observes the scene with bated breath.
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