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"Nebs, I think you may have answered your own question. Although 'accomplices' might be too strong a word," Dolgarth grins. He straightens up, no longer very interested in keeping the half-orcs alive given the difficulty of the task and presence of their mistress. He then tries to mimic the male's speech patterns as best he can. "Down here, mistress! Some fools tried to break in and seize the payload. Could you be troubled to help us dispose of their bodies?"
It is at that moment, however, that the half-elf realizes that he may have to improve his best.
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Only now understanding what is happening, Aldus gives a knowing nod to Nebraska and climbs up a crate. Projecting his voice so all captives can hear him, he raises both hands and starts his speech as he gesticulates empahtically "Men, women…nay, free men and women! Your captors are back! Shackles and manacles in hand, they seek once more to arrest you, to take away the freedom that is rightfully yours. What good is a life in which one is not free? What joy, what dignity there might be in living day to day with scraps from petty people who see you as beings lower than maggots? None, I tell you! Shall we bow down and accept this as our fate? Madness! We are dozens; they are less than a handful. They cannot hope to contain us, no more than a child may contain the ocean with her bare hands. They come here to suck our freedom with a straw: let us flow like an unstoppable tide and drown them; trample their tyranny with our single voice: no masters! No rulers! No authorities! Come, all together! Run to your freedom, trample the oppressor, do not look back!", the bard says, fully carried away by the heat of the performance. His face red, he waits until the crowd is agitated enough to begin charging upstairs.
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'What in the Hells is going on...?'
Dolgarth shakes his head at his comrades' idealism. "Unless my half-orc voice sounded much better outside of my head, we either are about to have company or we will have to go to them." All this is said as he prepares for a fight, drawing weapons and shield and securing his dirty bandana. "If we could trouble you to keep these brutes alive-" The half-elf addresses the former prisoners, pointing at the half-orcs, "-then that would be welcome. There's no need to resuscitate them, or even heed my request, but they could yield information about your captivity if their mistress is likewise unable to do so. Also, I see no reason not to spit on them as much as you like."
Despite Aldus' inspiring speech, only a few among the freed slaves are actually willing to run towards the danger with their own legs. Most of them are wounded, undernourished and weak. Moreover, they're not heroes, and they don't look like they will ever have the courage to risk their lives in a desperate attempt to earn their freedom. Instead, some of them look at you with eyes full of fervor and admiration.
"We're not heroes!"
"They're going to wipe us out!"
"Please, fight for us!"
"You're our only hope!"
"Please Desna, watch over us!"
"The man is right! We should run for our freedom!"
"Save us!"
"My brother is wounded, we cannot run!"
"Where are we?"
"Shut up everyone! I can't hear a thing! What's da lad sayin'?"
"You are our heroes, please fight for us!"
In the meantime, there's no sign of activity on the upper deck. Instead, the woman's voice answers to Dolgarth. "Well done! Now come up here!"
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Jak looks up, gathering his bravado as he draws sword and shield, "This is ether going to be the best part of an incredible story ... or the sad part of a forgettable one." He shrugs as he looks around, "Nebs, can you find any other way out for these prisoners? They're not up for a fight, I think."
Jak doesn't look particularly interested in repeating his earlier tactic ... of walking blinding back through the door upstairs.
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Nebraska nods in solemn understanding to the former slaves disposition. "Alright, but someday there might not be any heroes. Someday you may need to become that hero."
Her gut doesn't trust the voice upstairs though and tries to hear whether it is speaking honestly before she looks around for a way to escape.
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Aldus jumps off the crate, visibly disappointed. "We shall do what we can…though you must know that there is no such thing as a hero," he says, hands now on his waist. Turning to his companions, he asks "So, what is the next plan? Create sound figments of a fight to lure this woman downstairs? Torch the ship and jump through the portholes?"
There's no second way out of the lower deck.
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"No, but if she has any weapons, I can relieve her of them," Dolgarth says, savoring the flavor of his potion. "That's another reason why those half-orcs were such a bother, many talented combatants are powerless without their weapon. But not them! Anyway," he continues, getting back on topic, "I think we should just go up, but I'll go first this time, Jak, they'll have a harder time hitting me."
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Jak shrugs, "Sounds good." He hefts his shield and blade, "Ready when you are."
Then he looks over at the slaves, smiling at Nish, "Someone taking notes? This should get interesting."
He begins slapping his sword's blade lightly against his thigh, creating a steady, uptempo beat, to which he begins quietly singing in a clear baritone.
"We'll drink the wine till the cup is dry,
And kiss the girls so they'll not cry,
And toss the dice until we fly,
To dance with Jak o' the Shadows."
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'Huh, this is making me more confident, and I'm not sure why,' Dolgarth thinks wryly. 'Really, singing in battle, of all things...maybe I'm just confident that if we're all to die today, I won't be the first. But no, that isn't fair. Forlorn could do this trick, as I'm sure could many others.'
Over his shoulder he calls, "Nebs, if this makes you want another knife, you should never meet my mentor. Not even if you don't understand Goblin. You might be better off if you don't, actually. Either way, it's not worth the nausea and bleeding ears."
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Dolgarth chuckles. "He certainly thinks so. Venture-Captain Heidmarch told me spending twenty-some years living as a goblin in some little tribe in Varisia will do that to you. They discovered some artifact they didn't understand and it took him a while to gain their trust and be subtle about taking it. He worked as a Pathfinder even then, but after that he became a lot more interesting." The half-elf pauses, about to say Forlorn's race but not entirely sure about it. "I think he was a halfling. After he got back, his technique got a lot more wild. He once said he shrunk himself, had a fellow strap him to one of his signature goblin fireworks and shoot him through a church full of strange zombies. Quite the interesting fellow, I learned a lot from him. I was lucky to be taken under the wing of a senior agent." Now at the top of the ladder, he gestures upwards. "Let us see if that luck holds for all of us now."
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Fiametta has been staring slack jawed at Aldus and Nebraska as they rallied the captives. This is what comes of reading Hottstetter. We're going to have to have a talk, once we're out of danger.
But as soon as the talk turns to tactics, she snaps out of it.
"I have a single casting of a sleeping spell left. I'll try to use that before we get to close, lest I put any of you to sleep. Besides that, I can daze with a touch, so I will get close enough to use that if need be. Otherwise, I fight with acid and my dagger."
She looks around at the former captives. "Those who are better than thralls will come with us, though I would not expect any of them to fight in their condition. Only to sow confusion."
Then Fiametta hands Nebraska a cold iron dagger.
The Pathfinders get to the upper deck. Dolgarth is the first to emerge to the surface, followed by Jakwin, Aldus, Nebraska and Fiammetta.
On the upper deck is a beguiling woman with crimson-red hairs wearing black robes over a wonderful, black-lacquered halfplate. Attached to a belt at her side hangs a fine heavy flail. At her side stands a walking corpse wearing only a few soiled rags, its flesh rotting off its bones.
Zombies are unthinking automatons, and can do little more than follow orders.
As soon as the woman sees you, she points her index finger at you. “So there you are! Get them!”, she hisses through clenched teeth. She’s clearly addressing the walking corpse.
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: mage armor (Fiammetta, 25 minutes remaining), inspire courage +1 (Jawkin, 1 round)
Dolgarth
Jakwin
Fiammetta
Aldus
Luscilia
Nebraska
Walking corpse
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Aldus, excited by his own exhortation of the slaves and Jak's melody, moves south and yells at the top of his lungs: "Freedom to the oppressed!" His words wrap the arrow in a bright light and it flies true to the woman's chest, finding an unprotected nook and viciously penetrating her flesh.
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Fiametta stares appraisingly at the walking corpse. "Be careful, it's a fast one -- that zombie moves just as quickly as we do."
Then she turns her attention to the woman. "Prepare to pay for your crimes. Surrender now, or it will go poorly for you." Fiametta doesn't wait for an answer, but takes a step forward and begins spell-casting.
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Dolgarth moves toward the woman and her undead servant, quickly followed by Jakwin. In the meantime, while Fiammetta prepares to cast a taxing spell, Aldus fires a prodigiously accurate arrow at the woman, hitting her in the hearth. The woman’s eyes go wide with stupor as the blood starts flowing out of her wound and her hand reaches for the arrow. She tries to dislodge the arrow from her chest, and although heavily wounded, she manages to. There’s hate in her eyes now as she puts on a dark grimace and cries out fiercely. “MAY THE HARBINGER OF LAST DAYS DEPRIVE YOU OF YOUR LIGHT!” As she screams these words, the woman gestures in a strange way. Whatever the woman is trying to do, Aldus is clearly her target. Fortunately, though, the Galtan steels himself against whatever effect the woman tried to affect him with, his resolve prevailing against the unholy influence.
In meanwhile, Nebraska takes advantage of the chaos to use a scroll to protect herself, while the walking dead suddenly appears to come to life and attacks the closest target…which is, Jakwin. The Taldan isn’t able to dodge the attack in time and gets hit in his face from the zombie’s slam. Fortunately, Jakwin does not lose his concentration and keeps in mind what Fiammetta said before, thus expecting another attack from the zombie, which quickly comes. This time, the Taldan lad lowers his head and avoids the slam.
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: mage armor (Fiammetta, 25 minutes remaining; Nebraska, 60 minutes remaining), inspire courage +1 (Jawkin, 2 rounds)
Dolgarth
Jakwin
Fiammetta
Aldus
Luscilia
Nebraska
Walking corpse
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Aldus feels the unholy energy grasping his body, but the thought of the captives below is enough to maintain his steadfast resolve. "Your decrepit god has no power over a scion of the revolution, witch! Surrender now!" he says, firing another arrow at the woman. In his furore, however, the projectile goes wide of its target.
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Fiametta feels the magic gathering at the base of her spine, a low burn of ever-growing intensity, until finally she releases it in pulsing waves through all ten of her outstretched fingers -- a shimmering red field of magic, streaking towards the insane spellcaster. Given her power, Fiametta wasn't certain her spell would have any effect, but it was too late to worry about that now.
"If you will not surrender, then you shall fall before us. Groetus cannot save you from the hand of Justice." She moves forward, barely skirting the mast in her approach.
"She was trying to blind you," she tells Aldus. "A powerful spell. I doubt she can do that again. But be wary."
Then she begins to cast again.
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Raising her rapier tip to point at Luscilia, "Surrender to justice woman! Lest we must punish you here ourselves!"
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Dolgarth hits the zombie without too much trouble: although quicker than its normal counterpart, the undead is still exposed to harm due to his size and lack of armor. Unfortunately, Dolgarth’s strike is not enough to destroy the zombie, and Jakwin fails to deliver the final blow, his sword missing wildly. In the meantime, Fiammetta releases her magic in pulsing waves through all ten of her outstretched fingers —a shimmering red field of magic, streaking towards Luscilia.
The woman goes down, suddenly falling asleep. Fiammetta did it! Bolstered by her success, Fiammetta fires an acid dart at the zombie and she hits it hard. The acid eats through the already rotting undead flesh of the zombie, and the creature turns to dust with an emotionless rattling.
With the undead destroyed and the spellcaster woman asleep, the Pathfinders need to think fast. It won’t be long before the woman will regain her consciousness, so the party has to act quickly. What would they have of her?
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: mage armor (Fiammetta, 25 minutes remaining; Nebraska, 60 minutes remaining), inspire courage +1 (Jawkin, 2 rounds)
Dolgarth
Jakwin
Fiammetta
Aldus
Luscilia
Nebraska
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"Yeah, I always carry some rope," Dolgarth replies, already fishing it out and starting to tie the woman up. "Not much need to if she's shackled, but we can't be too careful. And indeed, great work, everyone, especially you, Aldus, Fiametta. That spell definitely ended what could have been a long and difficult fight!" Upon finishing with the rope, he picks up the flail with a whistle of admiration. "I don't think anyone else'll be needing this..."
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Aldus nods in thanks to Fiametta in between arrows; when he turns back to aim, he finds the cultist falling to the ground and its undead creation crumbling to dust and entrails. "Hurrah!" he shouts.
Running to the others, face still flushed with excitement, he bows to the compliments from his companions. "Whatever unholy energy is powering her, it seems to be strong. A shot that close to the heart should have at least made her unconscious. And very good thinking, Fiametta," the Galtan says, finishing with an appreciative bow to the Chelaxian enchantress.
Aldus gets the map and note and reads them out loud to his companions. Upon seeing Dolgarth's joy in "borrowing" the flail, he points out: "I'm sure she won't be needing that armour once she's shackled. Our barrister might have more insight into it, but I guess seizing an outlaw's property to aid in the fight against illegal activities might be legitimate?"
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Fiametta approaches the sleeping woman. "I told you you would fall before us. Lord Asmodeus rebukes you, and your debased faith." She scrutinizes the woman and her equipment, with the aid of magical sight, and notes the magical items. Then she turns back to her companions.
"I am pleasantly surprised that spell worked. I honestly didn't expect it to. We all did a much better job of hitting, and not getting hit. That was a particularly good shot, Aldus."
Fiametta sees her companions binding the captive. "Good. I expect the Venture Captain will want to question her. Also, be sure and gag her for the trip over. I expect that she is a priestess of Groetus, the god of the end times, and his clergy tend to rant loudly and incoherently about coming catastrophe. I don't think we want the attention or the headache."
"As for the legality of confiscation. The Pathfinder Society has cleverly arranged itself to allow us to do that with plausible deniability. We bring all the gear we find to the local lodge, along with our report. In countries where the Society operates, they have reached accommodation with local law enforcement, such that this is acceptable. The Society pays us the value of those goods and then -- to the best of our knowledge -- turn everything over to the authorities when they are done with it. Sometimes the authorities give it back to the original owners, sometimes to the Society, sometimes they keep it. But we don't have to worry about that part, as long as we give everything we find to the Venture Captain."
Once the priestess is secured, Fiametta removes the note from her pocket and begins reading it, intending to reveal its contents to her compatriots. Then she will prepare. To return to the lodge.
The map on the woman’s body gives directions to a cooper’s warehouse on the south side of the Imperial Naval Shipyards. The note is a love note accompanying the directions and is signed by one Dalirio Teppish.
The Teppish family’s power came to a close nearly 50 years ago when a series of rival houses launched attacks on their holdings and wealth, and even went so far as to assassinate several of the Teppish family patriarchs. In just a few short years the mighty Teppish were reduced to laughingstocks in the Opparan social scene and were left with few possessions, even less gold, and no power at all.
The woman is still sleeping. Dolgarth and Jawkin tie her up, while Nebraska is still in the lower decks. As soon as the Qadiran girl returns with the shackles, Luscialia is starting to wake up.
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Getting back to the surface as the woman begins to wake, Nebraska makes a point to shackle her up as swiftly as possible. Once the wrist and ankle cuffs are locked securely Nebraska will stow the key away so it's out of sight on her person.
"Great job! Now that was more like our true form, eh?" and she attempts to give everyone high-fives. "Was anything useful found on her? I'm all for getting out of here and subjecting this woman to the kindness of Norgy..."
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Aldus gladly returns Nebraska's high-fives/ "You'll laugh at it, but that's how we used to compliment each other on my garrison, back in…Galt", he says with a joyful voice that shortly after becomes a frown, the bard looking to the horizon.
Seeing that the woman is waking up, Aldus says in a quieter voice to his companions "Stay close and jump on her if she tries anything funny. Let's see if I can get her to cooperate."
He kneels close to the woman and shakes his head once she comes to it, saying "We did warn you to surrender. Your undead servant has been taken care of already, so what if we start this over? I am Aldus and these are my companions. We are pathfinders, looking into the kidnappings your cult has been carrying out in Cassomir," he motions his head towards the city, "Now, your turn. Who are you? Why is your cult so intent on selling dozens of innocent citizens into slavery?"
Luscilia, shackled and tied up, slowly wakes up. She listens to Aldus' speech with her eyes closed, then smirks eerily. "What makes you think that I'm going to share such information with you, Aldus the Pathfinder?" The woman's voice is weak but captivating. When Jawkin asks her if she's a Teppish, Luscilia starts giggling. "You miserable idiot...", she whispers. Jawkin gets the distinct feeling that she's not a Teppish at all.
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"Well, for starters it could be a nice gesture considering we have shown you mercy?" Aldus chuckles briefly at the idea that being nice could motivate the woman to speak. "Also, your cooperation now might help your circumstances once you are delivered to the local authorities," he continues, moving slightly so other people can speak directly to the cultist.
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"You don't have to speak to us, of course. But this looks bad, don't you think. You in command of a ship full of illegal slaves. What will the Cassomiri think? Much better that you try and explain the situation, so that we can recommend leniency. It would be a shame for you to miss the end of the world, don't you think?"