Calden sits down, breathing a sigh of relief, and squeezing Merephel's hand again. He takes a mug of water from the barkeep and a small plate of food. If we have to act like faithful followers, we can't seem suspicious of their gifts. Besides, they wouldn't poison new followers immediately. Would they?
Shirzon's stomach is too nervous to be hungry, but she takes some water to wet her parched lips. She quickly downs a glass of water, but doesn't find the food particularly appealing. Looking at the plates before her, her gut actively turns and gurgles in protest. Ugh. All this bread and meat. I hope they have something else to eat inside that fortress of a temple they built.
Merephel politely declines any alcohol, but does happily partake in the food, along with a small glass of water.
She smiles, rather than say anything, knowing her winning smile will take her further than her patented honesty.
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— Starday, Neth the 22nd, 4609 AR
— Evening
— Tamran, The Ranger’s Lament
— Cloudy
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After 5 minutes, the half-elf, whose name is Evlar (as you’ve discovered during the conversation), slumps over on the table at the exact moment that everyone who has been eating or drinking feels a wash of nausea and starts losing consciousness. You feel your head spinning around, and the priests’ voices echo far from their source, reverberating in your aching head. Your eyes begin closing, as though your eyelids had suddenly become too heavy to keep opened. The blurred images of your companions are the last thing you see before collapsing.
---
You sleep. For a long, long time. When sensations begin to creep back in, you can feel your head aching terribly and your eyes suffering as they attempt to adapt to the dim-light. You are in a cell. A cold, dark cell in the depths of the earth, with a stone floor and iron bars preventing you to escape. You can see your companions, right next to you or in other cells close to yours. You also see that half-elf lad, lying to ground just like you, in another cell. Suddenly, you hear the sound of steps coming from above. A light filters in the cells and your eyes struggle to adapt to it in order to allow you to find out more about your situation. One thing is sure: you don’t have anything you once had on your body. You’re covered in tattered robes, and that’s all. Everything has been taken away from you, even your lingerie. Your tattered robes are all that stands between you and complete nudity.
The masked, black-robed priest paces down the narrow stone hallway, looking in each of the cells. “I must apologize for the way that you were brought here,” he begins with a calm, even tone. “We must be sure that you are pure and properly prepared to join the faith. Today you shall fast and meditate on the glory of Razmir. On the morrow you shall be sworn in and given your masks, made one with the body of Razmir; one piece of the greater whole. You shall become acolytes, and be allowed upon the first step of enlightenment. Rejoice! The path of glory and fortune shall be open to you.”
With that, the cultists leave.
______________________________________
Merephel shakes her head, trying to clear it.
"Is...is everyone okay? Is everyone here?"
Korech hungrily digs in, never saying no to offered food or water. He listens absently while he eats. By the time he realizes what's going on, he's already unconscious.
-----
Korech lets out a long, low groan as he comes to. He panics as he realizes that his clothing and gear are all gone, but he keeps quiet as the priest approaches the group.
"Head hurts... that... not expect. Ow..."
He gathers himself, hugging his knees as he tries to retain some modesty in the tattered robe which is a little too short for him. He shoots a glance to the half-elf.
"I here. Hello, I am Korech."
Shirzon groans as she awakens, rubbing the temples of her aching head. "How much did I drink last night? Captain Winslow?..." she mutters, taking in the iron bars. But these aren't the iron bars of Kassen's guard tower...
As the cultists come in, give their speech, and leave, Shirzon looks around for her friends. Luckily she can see everyone is relatively safe, even if they've been imprisoned and robbed. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm her panic response. "I don't know what these freaks and thieves are about, but I'm not going to just sit around while they get away with doing this to us." Shirzon punctuates her point by scouring the area of her cell, looking for something--anything--she could use as a makeshift lockpick.
Calden startles awake, scrambling back when he finds himself in the dark, in just a tattered robe. He puts a hand to his head to massage his throbbing temple. "Yeah, I'm fine," he answers Merephel. He takes a few deep breaths to regain his calm. Maybe something like this was to be expected. Being the villains that they are, they have to be suspicious of everyone. Hopefully things will be better once we've proven ourselves...
Calden stays silent when they hear the reasons for their captivity, sitting back on his heels. See, that's what I expected. He groans when he hears Shirzon and her defiant talk. He tries to look directly at her even if he can't barely see her, making large eyes to warn her. "I don't know who you are," he says with emphasis, "but you probably won't get far with a attitude like that! They're not 'doing anything to us'. Did you expect to receive the power of Razmir without being tested? Me, I can't wait to wear the mask and be initiated into the secrets of his faith," he boasts. Please, be patient and just play along...
Calden then turns to the figure of the half-elf. "Oy, you there. Evlar, is it? Are you OK? I'm Calden, this is my sister Merephel."
-Posted with Wayfinder
The half-elf gazes upon Korech and Calden with a displeased expression, “Have you not heard them? We must meditate in silence in order to allow the grace of the Living God to flow in us. Shut your mouth.” he remarks with a wiseass expression.
---
After a long time which seemed like an eternity, a black-robed priest comes to you, along with a group of other priests to release you from your cells. “The time for the ceremony to swear you in as members of the faith has come. You’re to follow me. Turn them loose now.”, he orders to the other priests, who rush and do as commanded. Finally, you savor the taste of freedom once again. “Come”, he whispers to the priests as he leads them (and you) through the temple.
As you walk, the Razmiri priest following close behind each of you, you have the chance to glance at the temple from within. You walk up some stairs leading upward and turn right. After a few steps, to your left you can see a long hallway , flanked by several doors leading to other underground chambers. A simple carpet, stained and worn, runs down the center of the hall. At the west end is the symbol of Razmir, crudely painted on the wall. “Move on” hisses through clenched teeth a low-ranking priest behind Korech, as he pushes the half-orc forward.
You walk through the corridor and the hallway to you left cannot be seen anymore. To your right, there’s another flight of stairs leading upwards. The black-robed priest climbs the stairs, and you follow right after.
When the stairs end, you find yourselves in a quite small room . A pair of weapon racks sits in the center of this chamber, each bearing a variety of arms, most of which look new. Mounted to the walls is a host of steel shields as well, each one painted with the symbol of Razmir. A lone priest tasked with polishing the weapons and shields usually occupies this room. As he sees the black-robed priest coming, he bows with reverence before getting back to his task.
The black-robed priest opens the only door in this chamber, located in the southernmost part of the room. “Move on”, says another priest as he pushes Calden forward. “This is amazing! So many weapons…”, comments sincerely admired Evlar. “Shut it up and move on”, orders the priest behind the half-elf, whose gaze suddenly become embarrassed and fixed on the floor.
You access another room. Grand tapestries depicting the might and power of Razmir hang from the walls of this long vestibule, and a richly embroidered carpet runs down the center. Opposite the large doors leading outside is a pair of tall, slender doors, with a gigantic silver mask emblazoned on the front. A pair of smaller doors is set into the north and south walls. A flickering green light plays throughout this chamber from masked sconces that run along the walls. “Wow!” utters Evlar, before being hit with a sap behind his neck from the priest following right behind him. “I said shut it up!” hisses the priest.
The black robed priest opens the door with the silver mask emblazoned on the front. With a metallic clangor, the door swings open, revealing rows of polished, black stone benches surrounding a vast staircase that ascends in the center of this grand worship chamber . The thirty-one white marble stairs, each carved with one of the tenets of Razmir, climb to the top of a pedestal that supports a gigantic golden mask, the symbol of the Living God. As sunlight streams through the great stained glass window high on the eastern wall, it passes through the eyes of the mask and reflects through a great emerald set into its forehead, bathing the room in shafts of green light. The room is crowded with cultists waiting for you, sitting on their pews.
The black robed priest enters, but quickly turns to you, “Wait until called for” he whispers from behind his mask. He then closes the door behind him.
---
After a few minutes, you are summoned, along with Evlar, to enter the room. A large crowd of masked priests waits in the temple. While white robes shroud most of them, some wear gray, and a few wear black. In the center of the chamber rises a gigantic staircase, atop of which glitters a porcelain and gold mask, the holy symbol of Razmir. On the eighth step of the stairs stands a black-robed priest, who says gravely, “Come forward.”
As you reach the bottom of the stairs, the priest addresses you one at a time, “Stand upon the first step, but no higher than that”. When you do, the other priests hand you your iron masks and white robes. “This is the required attire whenever you are on the first floor or outside the temple”, gravely explains the black-robed priest.
After each of you accepts his mask, the entire congregation chants, “” until the next one of you steps upon the first stair. Once all of you don your masks to signify your acceptance into the temple, the black robed priest states solemnly, “And so you’re members of the faith. May the great Razmir guide you through the path of Enlightment. Krant will tutor you in the ways of the Living God. Once you would have proved yourselves worthy and capable, you will become free members, able to do what you please and given all of yours possessions back.” He pauses. “Until that time, you must follow Krant’s teaching to the letter,” warns you the black-robed priest concluding his speech. With that, the ceremony comes to a close and the other cultists file out of the room.
______________________________________
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If Korech can do one thing, it's wait. Years of complete solitude, followed by extensive training as a hunter has given him an amazing ability to sit perfectly still without need or complaint for hours upon hours. Despite the utter shock to his sense of the city followed by the drugging and imprisonment, he manages to take in stride.
In his usual manner, Korech simply ignores the half-elf's comment, looking down as he thinks. Using the advice to meditate, Korech instead goes through what he remembers of the Parables in his head.
When danger threatens, I am not a fool. I seek first to make sure the weak and innocent are safe, and then I quell the danger.
Have I been doing that? Who am I concerned most with? I am strong and good with a bow, I know that I can help people in ways not everyone can. But when we were attacked, did I see if Merephel or Asina was safe? Merephel is strong and capable, she is not weak. What do I care more about, my feelings, or what is right? Also, how am I supposed to meditate on Razmir when I don't know anything about him?
He is snapped out of his reverie by the arrival of the priests, and he mutely gets up.
Look down, don't speak, do what they say. I'm good at that. My opinions don't matter. When do they ever?
Korech shuffles forwards slowly, impressed by the displays but knowing well enough not to talk. When Evlar speaks, Korech bites his lip.
Who is talking now?! What a fool. Erastil has lots of good things to say about fools. Like this guy. Who is a fool.
Head down, he stands before the congregation with the others, trying to avert his eyes from everyone's revealing robes and desperately trying to ignore how indecently he's dressed. Korech stands forward as he is called, surprising himself with how calm he is with the subterfuge. He takes the mask and robes.
And here's my scary iron mask and black robe. I wonder if these people ever think "Are we really the good guys?" when they wear this stuff.
Nonetheless, Korech puts on his mask. "All hail Razmir," he mumbles slightly out of time with the congregation.
With the ceremony over, Korech lifts his head, wondering who Krant is and what comes next.
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Calden scowls at the half-elf, but keeps his silence. So much for making friends... He scrambles back to lean his back against the wall, he folds his hands in his lap. If there's anything that training with Ilimara had taught him, it was for patience and perseverance. He closes his eyes and lets his mind go blank while he waits.
--
As the black-robed figure appears again, Calden quickly gets to his feet. He observes that the other priests eagerly follow his commands. So, the ones in black robes must be the leaders. And pretty harsh ones too, most likely. Then the ones in gray are middle-rank? Would this guy in black be the same as we saw earlier, or a different one? How do they even recognize each other? By voice? Stupid masks! Calden is determined to play his part without drawing attention, and he follows the others up the stairs. He keeps his eyes open.
What a weird mash of old and new, tattered and luxurious. Are they still decorating, buying new and expensive decorations with the money they steal? Or is it related to rank?
When they get to the armory and the half-elf is upbraided for his words, Calden can't suppress a thin smile. So much for that wise-ass. He winces as Evlar forgets himself again, and is punished with the sap. He's slow to learn. And it seems they won't accept that from anyone...
Calden nods as they receive the final instruction, after having caught a glimpse of the worship hall. So that's where most of the money goes towards. It's filthy. Why would a church, or even a cult, spend so much money on the building and trappings, when it could do something for its followers instead? True faith does not need to flaunt! The wait before that closed door seems longer than the wait in the cell, tot Calden's senses. He looks beside and behind him to the others, looking for support. So, this is it. No turning back now...
--
When the signal is finally given, Calden steps forward, looking back once to see whether the others will come as well. Don't do anything foolish now. Just lay low and try to blend in. He look around the room and can't help but be intimidated by the large number of followers, all in their masks and bathing in the green light. Is it all show, or actual power? We have to find out, if we want to stop this!
When the time comes, Calden takes a last deep breath, almost a sigh, and takes the first step on the black stairs to accept and don his mask. His mouth feels dry and he's quite happy that the protocol doesn't seem to call on them to say anything. How can they wear a thing like this. Don't they feel that it's wrong? He makes an effort to hold himself straight under the repeated chants and the priest's final instructions. Krant? How do we know who Krant is?
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With an exasperated snort, Shirzon sits back down in her cell and stays quiet. She hums quietly for a while, but between her hunger and her imprisonment she loses steam quickly. She manages to fall asleep for a time before the cultists come back. She scrambles to her feet, wiping a bit of drool from the side of her mouth. She stays quiet and avoids eye contact with anyone as they are led through the temple.
Gods this place is creepy. It wouldn't be so bad if I could just get my stuff back. There are too many of them to fight head to head, but I bet we could pick them off if we needed to… In the weapon room, Shirzon nods with appreciation for the collection of arms, making a mental note to come back here at some point to see what would be useful. The main entrance is impressive as well with its tapestries and sconces. Maybe all that money just gets spent on textiles and masks. At the sound of the sap thwacking against Evlar’s neck, she winces and whips around to glare at the offending cultist. Unnerved by the mask, though, Shirzon turns back and keeps her gaze down, not wanting to draw any ire herself.
In the main chamber, Shirzon stares at the huge mask with its glowing green eyes, mouth agape. Maybe they really do spend all their money on masks. Where do you even get something like that? I don't know if you could pay me enough to make something that creepy…
During the ceremony, the hairs on the back of Shirzon’s neck stand on end. As the faceless crowd chants their hail to Razmir, her stomach turns and she swallows hard. Maybe it was the fact that they hadn't given her any food, but there was certainly an unnerving element about all of this that made her gut protest. Did they all follow this kidnapping cult so unwaveringly? Were there members among their ranks who had tried to infiltrate this cult before, only to join in earnest? It had taken a lot of hardship for Shirzon to find a degree of acceptance back in Kassen. Here, she also found acceptance of a sort, which could be comforting to someone who never had any. But this wasn't the admiration and appreciation - and not even close to the friendship - she had earned and been given in Kassen. This was acceptance, but it was also ownership. These masked followers didn't see her as a person, but as a possession. Even her near brush with death when fighting Asar's remains wasn't so frightening. Asar was scary, but it was a mortal fear for survival. This opponent was impervious to a well placed strike, and it wasn't after her death - it wanted her life.
As the cultists file out, she breathes out heavily - she didn't realize she had been holding her breath. She remains on the step, unsure of what she's supposed to do now, and waits for the others to make a move, or for Krant to arrive.
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Merephel shrugs at the half-elf's frustrated tone. She was put off at his attitude, but then again, he had a point. They were to wait. While Merephel loved to chat, she did have tremendous experience in patient meditation. She sits and focused inward. Her thoughts drift, as they often do, towards the Grace of her Goddess. She ponders for quite a long time, thinking of how she can mitigate the damage to her faith by masquerading as a follower of another deity. Eventually, she was able to reconcile her faith with her mission. It was a simple epiphany, really, but it was enough. Regardless of her Lady's aspects as Goddess of Beauty, of Luck, or of the Arts, at her core Shelyn cares. She is a good deity, one who is filled with concern for others. She wouldn't stand for the evils that the Razmirans were committing, the way they hold the city hostage, and most of all, the way the cult was misleading people about the truth of their "faith". They were criminals, pure and simple. Merephel would help protect the common folk from the Razmirans, and her Goddess would understand.
A time later, after Black Robe, as Merephel had taking to calling the man in charge, came and fetched the group, she was pulled from her thoughts. As they wandered the corridors, she was quickly lost. Merephel never did have a terrific sense of direction. She desperately hoped they didn't need to make a quick escape. She'd be caught before she began.
When they came to the last room, Merephel was impressed. Not with the grandeur of the room, but rather the audacity of the theatricality of it all.
'Surely they can't be serious? They rob the poor to maintain this lavish temple? This is criminal, in more way than one!' She thought angrily to herself.
She went to the first step, and received her mask. Once it was in her hands, she breathed a sigh of relief. Not being able to have others see her face would be a boon for Merephel.
'Is Krant Black Robe?' She wondered to herself.
When it came time to praise Razmir along with the congregation, she choked on the words, but managed to get them out.
"All...ha...hail Razmir."
It made her sick to her stomach, but she knew it had to be done. She waited awkwardly with her companions, and inwardly said a little prayer for strength.
All other cultists file out of the room. At that point, it’s easy for you to find out who Krant is. In fact, he’s the only remaining cultist apart from you and Evlar. Krant is a very large man, both in height and girth. “Gold is the tool of those who would oppose the Living God. Denying them their coin leads to the glory of Razmir” he starts with a guttural voice, “Now shut up and listen. Rule one: Razmir is the god above all other gods. Those who would claim otherwise are jealous of His glory and spread lies in an attempt to tarnish his mask.
Rule two: Those who follow the steps of the Living God will be rewarded with glory and riches. Those who turn from His path shall have neither.
Rule three: Razmiran, the realm of the Living God on this world, is sacred ground, and it is the duty of every believer to protect and enrich this sacred place. Every temple to Razmir is an extension of this sacred realm.
Rule four: Those who have ascended the steps speak with the authority of the Living God. Failing to obey them is akin to disobeying the will of Razmir Himself.
Rule five: Tithing to the faith is a holy responsibility. The faith of Razmir must have the resources to fight against His enemies, who use their vast sums of ill-gotten wealth to spread lies and deceit.
Rule six: Those who do not believe must be converted to the faith of Razmir by showing them the glory and wealth that awaits them in His service. Those who refuse are corrupted by the unfaithful and should be denied such luxuries.
Rule seven: Only those who believe in the Living God deserve a life of plenty and pleasure. Others must suffer and toil until they see the light of Razmir.
Rule eight: The mask of the Living God is a divine vessel. Behind its protective embrace, His followers can speak the will of Razmir without fear of rebuke. His followers must wear the mask whenever they deal with nonbelievers, so that they might come to fear His image.” He clears his throat.
“Rule nine: The followers of Razmir act as one. Through anonymity comes solidarity, with each part working together to further His glory”. The man swallows and wets his dry lips behind his mask. You can hear him smirking.
---
“You better remember the rules. Now, follow me” says Krant as he exits the room and reaches the yard, with you following right behind him.
Crenellated walls surround this broad courtyard on three sides, with a stout barbican set in the south wall, its doors and gate closed to the outside world. On the east side lies the imposing face of the temple itself, with a grand staircase leading into the structure, ending in a pair of gigantic gilded doors, each one emblazoned with the mask of Razmir. A pair of statues flanks the stairs, each carved in the likeness of the Living God.
“The ordinary routine will start tomorrow,” says Krant. You spend the whole day performing a series of exercises, drills, and other relatively boring manual labor.
At six bells in the evening, you’re allowed with the other cultists in the Dining Hall. This chamber contains two long, wooden tables, with chairs arrayed on either side. Scraps of the morning meal litter the floor and the smell of stale wine hangs heavy in the room. A green everburning torch provides light. Five white-robed acolytes sit at the tables, along with two gray-robed priests, eating their meals in relative silence. The food, unfortunately, is of poor quality, but at least is free and you can have plenty if you wish so.
______________________________________
Korech listens dumbly as he is lectured with the ending stream of rules.
This God is dumb. Glory and riches? He doesn't look that rich. I really hope I can get my bow back. I can get more money. That bow was a gift.
He says nothing as he follows Krant into the courtyard. Being strong, quick, and compliant, Korech responds very well to the endless exercises, drills, and basic manual labour like cleaning and hauling rocks.
Maybe I can see why people would like it here. You're fed. You have a job and a place. And there's always work to do to keep you occupied.
During this time, he simply listens, saying nothing to his companions or others aside from acknowledging receipt of new orders. However, he frequently sneaks glances at his companions, and does what he can to work with them to ensure no harm comes to anyone.
By the evening he's tired and exhausted. The bland, watery food served to him greatly upsets the half-orc, who struggles to keep his disappointment in check. However, he's eaten far worse in far more dire situations, and has a double helping anyways. While he eats, he listens intently to any scraps of conversation, trying to gather any information he can.
Merephel stays quiet the whole day, trying to not make a sound. It is incredibly hard for her. Her thoughts wander all day, and she looks upon it as another period of meditation. She can serve her Goddess by furthering this cause, while maintaining this facade of Razmiran compliance.
Her only intent is to lay low, and stay quiet. That is hard enough for her.
However, over dinner, she does try to get a read on people's body language. She is very curious if the people here are actually, truly happy.
Shirzon struggles not to roll her eyes at Razmir's rules. This cult's operation may be cloaked in mysticism, but they sounded like they amounted to a convoluted thieves' guild with a long con.
She chafes at the repetitive labor and drills required of her, frowning deeply and scoffing under her mask. She cuts corners and shirks her work as often as she feels she can get away with, which isn't particularly easy given the constant surveillance and potential for snitches. She manages to get through the day, though not without a significant negative impact on her mood.
Frustrated and irritable, she takes her food and eats in silence for a while. Once she's had her fill of the bland food and as much wine as she's allowed, she stumbles over to the group of other white-robed acolytes and sits next to them with her plate of overcooked vegetables. "So...how long have you all been here?" she inquires, only a little inebriated and pointing her fork at the strangers.
Calden tries to memorize the rules as best as he can. The rest of the day they keep him occupied during the drills, which he finds easy enough to perform with half his mind to it. He looks at the rules from all kinds of angles, but their purpose and sense evade him, which frustrates him to no end. Why would any faith burden themselves with so many rules that don't make sense? How can any God claim that he is the true God above all? And if this is a real faith, what would the others Gods make of this? If it is a real faith, what would they make of it? And the thing about the tithing is patently false. the followers don't pay for the faith to fight, they just buy ever more gaudy decorations for the temple...
Angry with his own inability to see the sense and pattern behind the rules of Razmir's faith, Calden eats his meal in silence, refusing to drink the wine. He is disgusted by the state of the room, but thankful that his mask must hide his expression. This place is a dump. How can they claim Razmir's followers will be rewarded with glory and riches, when they can't even offer a clean table to eat. Or is this another status thing? Calden looks around him and notices the lack of any black robes. I wouldn't be surprised if they eat good food, somewhere clean. Pah!
“Me neither, but we have to hold on until she comes back”
“Where did she go?”
“I don’t know, but I hope she’ll come back soon”
“If she comes back at all…”
“C’mon, don’t joke. You know what she’s capable of…”
The other white-robed priests nods at Shirzon from behind their mask when she takes a sit near them. “A few months,” answers one of them with a flat tone. “One year and a half”, answers another. “You must be one of the new ones.” notes the first to answer, “Krant is a hard-ass, isn’t he?” The other white-robed priest suddenly stops the other from speaking further. “You crazy? If he hears you, he will get your back lashed ten times”. The one who had talked about Krant immediately turns his mask downward and keeps eating.
---
When everyone is done eating, a familiar voice coming from a similarly familiar stout figure calls at you. “Enough. Now follow me,” says Krant as he leads you outside the dining hall. You pass through the door to the south, enter the hallway and then Krant opens another door to the south. “You’re gonna sleep here. No noise will be allowed” he specifies as he leaves you.
---
Eight wooden double bunks rest in this room, each outfitted with simple straw mattresses and a thin blanket. A communal table sits in the center of the room, flanked by four chairs. Two chests lie open between the bunks, each one loaded up with fresh white robes. Pegs are mounted to the walls above the chests for the acolytes to hang their masks on when they are not wearing them. An everburning torch rests in a cloth-draped frame hanging from the ceiling above the table. Heavy cloth shields the lights in this chamber, casting the entire room in dim light.
You see two acolytes playing dice at the central table, talking quietly about the day’s events…and, in particular, you. As you enter the room, indeed, they stop talking about the newcomers. Both the acolytes are not wearing their masks, and as a result you can see their faces. The first one is a girl with white hairs cut short, ice-blue eyes and a strange tattoo on her left eye. She wears a black lace dress and an onyx pendant. She stands up as soon as you enter the room and with a mischievous smile she exhibits herself in a clearly exaggerated bow. “So you are the new ones. Ofelia the Whisperer, a pleasure to make your acquiescence” she says in a rather ironic tone, shaking your hands in turn.
The other acolyte is a middle-aged man with deep wrinkles and blue eyes, with long black hairs and a salt and pepper beard. His voice is deep and a bit raucous. He doesn’t stand up to greet your arrival, preferring instead to just nod at you with a rather indifferent look.
Evlar soon joins the two at the table, but Ofelia stands up in that very moment. The half-elf starts playing dice with the bearded man as the white-haired girl sits on her bed.
---
______________________________________
Calden doesn't pay too much attention to Shirzon's attempt at conversation, but he notes the mention of lashes. So, they'll go to a lot of effort to keep people in line. It seems like this cult wants to give everyone at the bottom a lot of reasons for improving. That must mean they'll do whatever the leadership wants, just to escape their rotten situation and for the chance to bo better. Typical: Kicking people in the dirt first, so you can offer the helping hand. Why would people fall for this?
-
As they're shown to their sleeping quarters, Calden is sure to head the warning that no noise will be allowed. I don't want to find out how that enforce that. Seeing two people without masks comes as a relief, and especially the fact that they're talking. Quietly, but they're talking. It seems like there's some leeway in the rules, at least.
With his mask in one hand, Calden follows the white-haired girl to the bed. He runs the other hand through his hair to settle some of his unruly curls. "Hi, I'm Calden," he says quietly. "Being a Whisperer must come in handy here," he quips with reference to the name she gave and the earlier warning that no noise was to be allowed, trying to start a conversation. We'd better get along with some others, if we want to find out what's happening here.
"Mind if I join you for a bit?" Assuming she doesn't object, he sits down on the bed opposite hers. "I wasn't quite sure what to expect before joining, but I couldn't have imagined anything like this... Any pointers for a new guy, such as myself?" That should be neutral enough. Girls usually like to do the talking and take the lead, it seems. As an afterthought, he adds "I noticed you're wearing a nice dress and that pendant, so I figured you were here long enough to have your own belongings back, at least..." He seems oblivious to the compliment in there, just talking to girls like he normally did back home, which seemed to come easy to him.
Not really understanding too much, Korech simply remains quiet and listens at dinner, and then back to the barracks, feeling demoralized and out of his element.
So High Priestess leaves and things aren't going so well. Interesting. I wonder what they're supposed to be like normally?
Once in the barracks he grunts a greeting to others, nodding and shaking Ofelia's hand. Tired from the emotional exhaustion of the day, he ignores the dice game and the others, going to bed early.
Later on that night, Korech rouses. Wearing his robe, he slinks out of the room to have a look around.
Merephel, tired and stressed from the hard day, went straight to bed. She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. She didn't dream, and slept like a rock.
Ofelia grins mischievously as Calden approaches her. She fixes the Kassenite’s eyes for a second, without altering her mischievous grin, then points her finger at Calden. She mouths some words, but she apparently does not say anything. Except for Calden or those with a very keen hearing.
---
When Korech wakes up in the heart of the night, no one is still awake, at least in the barracks. The half-orc silently climbs down his bed and roams the room. His eyes allow him to see perfectly even in the dark. Korech slowly sneaks away and reaches the hallway. Here, he finds two doors, both to the north: one of them leads to the dining hall, the other one most likely leads to the kitchen, but tonight Korech will make sure of that. He steps toward the door and tries to open it with a silent move; thankfully, the door isn’t locked. Korech sneaks inside and begins looking around in search of anything useful.
Sacks, barrels, crates, and other cooking supplies dominate much of this room, and the stench of dirty pots is almost overwhelming. In the corner, a few dying coals smolder in a simple cooking hearth.
Under a table, Korech finds a locked cabinet. Unfortunately, he’s not able to open it. In addition to food, the kitchen contains a wide variety of cooking utensils, including a number of knives that could be used as daggers in an emergency (dealing 1d3 damage). In addition, some of the heavier pans could be used as clubs should the need arise (dealing 1d4 damage).
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— Moonday, Neth the 24th, 4609 AR
— Dawn
— Tamran, The Temple of Razmir
— Cloudy
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The next morning, you are abruptly awakened by a familiar gray-robed priest: Krant. The rude man gives you five minutes to wear your white robes and put on your masks before taking you in the dining hall for a simple breakfast of bread, water and old fruit.
After the quick breakfast, Krant takes you in the courtyard and assign a task to each of you.
Calden: You’re tasked with cleaning up the stables. You must attempt a DC 12 Strenght check to carry out the work properly.
Korech: You’re tasked with splitting timber. You must attempt a DC 13 Strenght check to carry out the work properly.
Merephel: You’re tasked with unloading deliveries for the kitchen. You must attempt a DC 10 Strenght check to carry out the work properly.
Shirzon: You’re tasked with maintaining the temple’s weapons. You must attempt a DC 12 Craft (weapons) or Intelligence check to carry out the work properly.
---
At mid-morning, Krant gather you in the yard as a black-robed priest discends from the second floor to instruct the acolytes (new and old) in the power and glory of Razmir, telling about his mighty deeds, his generous gifts, and his incredible power.
---
At noon, Krant takes you in the dining hall again to allow you to have your lunch. This is half a loaf of bread, some fatty meat, a thin slice of cheese, and potato stew.
After half an hour, you’re all tasked with cleaning the first floor of the temple, using small brushes, harsh soap, and water.
Shirzon: You’re tasked with cleaning the Meeting Chamber along with another acolyte. The clergy use this room whenever they wish to meet with a visitor from outside the temple. Plush, gilded chairs, a fine table made from highly polished Andoren darkwood, and a painting on each wall—each depicting the Living God as he battles all manner of foul beasts and bends them to his will—adorn this well-appointed room.
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Korech scowls as he looks over the filthy kitchen.
If eveyrone is expected to work all the time why is the kitchen such a mess?
Seeing nothing he feels is particularly worth getting caught over, Korech returns to the barracks and goes back to sleep.
Calden shows his innocent mindset and falls into Ofelia's trap with eyes open. Literally. He leans forward to catch her soft-spoken words. He stares at her outstretch finger and follows it down until he finds himself ogling her bosom. When he notices he jerks his stare back to her eyes and blushes furiously, but manages to bite back the stammered apology that he would normally make. Idiot! You have no idea who she is. She's not some kind Kassenite girl, that's for sure... She's a follower of this twisted cult, and you have no idea about her reasons for being here!
Making an effort to keep her gaze on Ofelia's eyes, he listens to her advice and considers her demeanor. If I let her, she'll just toy with me, maybe not even consider me interesting enough to get to know. Feeling cornered and anxious to make an impression, Calden makes it obvious that he's weighing her words. "Yes, climbing the hierarchy makes sense. They give you plenty of reasons to want that. But apparently, that's not for everyone... You've been here a few years?" he ponders quizzically, shifting his gaze to the white robe that must be hers. "Maybe you can tell me more, later. I'm pretty beat." With that, he turns away and makes himself ready for bed. Well, that didn't go too bad. But what are we getting ourselves into?!
--
Calden wakes early the next day, despite dreams of dresses and robes in white, gray and black, coarse wool and lace, and figures with masks in all shapes and sizes. He eats his breakfast in silence, finding that the mask makes it hard to spare a glance for his companions to ask how they're doing. He doesn't consider himself particularly unlucky to spend the morning cleaning out the stables. It is routine work and doesn't involve contact with many other followers. That suits him just fine, giving him plenty of time to think.
It seems we didn't really think this through before coming here. Although we hardly could, not knowing what to expect. So, we're here to find information about the Razmirans search for the amulets. We know that they have two already, and might be looking for the third. Funny, how the goal seemed so easy to forget, when we discovered what a bunch of crooks they are. Still, we're here for the amulets. But how do we go about that?
--
Àfter the lunch, which Calden eats mechanically, Calden continues his planning while scrubbing the floor.
What would be the best approach to get information...? We could try to be as eager as possible? Follow Ofelia's advice, to rise the hierarchy? That should bring with it privileges, such as access to more information, and more freedom. But what will it take to reach that high? Can we do what's necessary to get there? On the other hand, I could look more reluctant. Maybe there are more people here, who are doubting. People likee that might be inclined to share information that's harmful for the cult. But they'd never trust trustworthy if I'm posing as a fanatic... Should we decide on some roles among ourselves, so split our chances? Not arriving at a satisfactory answer, Calden decides to stay low and keep his eyes open. We can't expect results in out first day. Although I'm not sure how long the patience of the others will last, with days like this...
Shirzon wakes up without remembering where she's gone to bed, her stomach growling from the mediocre food and acidic wife from last night. She tries to avoid grumbling when Krant wakes them up, wanting to avoid his wrath. She takes to her task of maintaining the weapon room well, glad that she has a mask to hide her mischievous smirk. She polishes the steel dutifully, hoping to sneak in some time unobserved to secret away a dagger.
She performs adequately, eyeing Krant's lash nervously. When she thinks no one will notice, she tries to hide a dagger in her sleeve for emergencies.
---
This had better be worth it... Shirzon thinks, this phrase having become her mental mantra as she is forced to clean, listen to absurd rantings about the glory of Razmir, and subsist on some of the worst food she's ever had. Focusing on this thought keeps her from verbalizing her displeasure and blowing her cover as she scrubs the floor.
Noticing an irregularity with one of the carpets, she investigates, finding a parchment with some potentially juicy information. She brushes the floor near it, and when the other acolyte has their back turned, she attempts to snatch up the parchment and stuff it in her robe.
Merephel spends the day taking large handfuls of pans and dishes to and from the kitchen. As soon as a meal is finished, clean-up begins. When the clean-up from that meal is finished, it is already time to start preparing for the next meal. The day passes in a blur, and before long, she is cleaning up after the midday meal.
The break to listen to Krant ramble on about Razmir was a welcome one, as it gave her a chance to relax a little.
'Or, more accurately, Krant's Rants!"
Merephel giggled to herself behind her mask.
.
.
.
.
.
.
The work to clean the floor is monotonous, and exhausting. She quickly tires, though it isn't the bone-weary level of fatigue from the ordeal at the Crypt.
She enjoys seeing some of her companions again, but it isn't the same, what with everyone wearing masks. At least, she thinks the people she is cleaning for floor with are her friends.
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— Moonday, Neth the 24th, 4609 AR
— Afternoon
— Tamran, The Temple of Razmir
— Cloudy
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After completing your cleaning tasks, you join half of the congregation in attending a session of afternoon prayer in the main hall. All acolytes, including you, are present. One of the black-robed priests leads the prayer, which includes a number of rather pompous litanies and psalms to the Living God.
A number of acolytes nod off during the prayer, and you must force your eyes open to avoid falling asleep.
---
After a whole hour of prayer, it’s time for you to get back to work. This is training time. The new acolytes (which consists of you and Evlar) are taken out into the yard and trained how to interact with the public. This starts out as simple ways to walk as a group, keep composure, and not reveal one’s identity. Krant’s not the only one to overlook your training. Many gray-robed priests strictly follow your training, ready to see if you have learned the lesson.
---
After two hours and a half spent training in the courtyard, when the bells atop the Temple ring seven times, you are taken back in the dining hall by Krant for a dinner made up of a simple vegetable stew with some inexpensive meat tossed in, coarse bread, and ale or wine.
---
After half an hour from dinner, you must attend the evening prayer. The other half of the congregation attends this session. Evening prayer resembles the afternoon prayer, except that the black-robed priest leading the procession appears to be, at least judging from his voice, the one who originally brought you here in the Temple.
---
When the evening prayer is over, it’s time for transcription. You spend your final 2 hours of the day copying holy texts by candlelight in the Meeting Chamber. One of the gray-robed priests oversees this process.
---
Once you’ve finally completed your copying duties, you’re allowed to reach the barracks, take off your robes and clothes and spend some time with other acolytes or just enjoy some rest and sleep. Today, in the barracks there are the same people as yesterday.
---
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The session of afternoon prayer is a rude surprise for Calden (and unfortunately, not the last of that day). He had hoped that the day's work would be over after their cleaning chores. His entire body felt like the day ought to be over.
The prayers all feel the same to him, and - unlike when he spent hours reciting mantras - they don't fill him with energy at all. Quite the opposite. His mind tries to escape from the droning of the litanies. And just when he thinks he's doing a good job of staying awake, the sharp pain of the lash jolts him awake. Oh Gods, this is only the first day. Is it going to stay like this...?
--
By the time that their group is ushered into the courtyard for training, Calden feels weary to the bone and miserable. All that keeps him going through their lessons is the fact that at least he can move around a bit, preventing his body from going stiff from all the work.
--
When the bells chime seven and they are finally released from their training, Calden plods into the dining hall. He steels himself, wills himself to eat the simple stew, knowing that he needs the energy. He leaves the mug of ale untouched on the table, reflecting on the teachings of Irori that he had chosen to live by. There may come a time when I'll have to go against my commitments; they are my own and it is of my own choosing to break them, but not now. I am the willow: I bend and I persevere.
--
By the time that evening prayer starts, everything seems to blend into each other. Calden doesn't really recognize any of the others, and breathing through the mask gets difficult. Still, the prayer seems to end without incident.
--
During the copying, Calden silently blesses and thanks his mother, who taught him his letters and wouldn't allow sloppy work.
--
When the day is finally over and they are released to the barracks, Calden rips off his mask as soon as he crosses the doorstep and flings himself on the bed. He looks up at Ofelia, and finds himself ashamed of how quickly his resolve has faltered. All his hopes for finding friends or informants, trying to pose one way of the other: just one day of labour, lessons and prayer and he couldn't find the energy to pursue those goals. He has just one question for her: "How do you get through the days when you're new? How long 'till they let off?"
Merephel is able to keep her composure during the monotonous ceremony; she has had a lot of practice in that area. She has been ignoring most of what has been taught, but now that she is starting to get settled into a groove, she is comparing the doctrine of the Cult with the doctrine of her Church. It is unsettling how different they are, but the sermons still are spoken as if from the mouths of true believers.
.
.
.
In the Courtyard: Again, Merephel excels in the social capacity she has been born into. She is able to move with the group, and avoids detection. She once again shuts down her mind, quiets her thoughts, and focuses on the task at and.
She is shocked, and a little horrified, to realize that she is beginning to appreciate the mediation and mental quiet.
.
.
.
After the evening prayer, she sets to work transcribing holy documents. Thankfully, for a third time today, she is in a comfortable place. She sets about the work with gusto, and finishes with plenty of time to spare.
.
.
.
With this day being considerably less stressful than the prior, she is much less tired at the end of the day. She makes a point to try and engage Evlar, by casually flirting. She inquires about his reasons for joining, and what brought him to the church. She employs classic seduction techniques, such as casually brushing his arm, batting her eyes, casual compliments, and employs her rarely-used-but-always-loved self-depreciating humor.
Merephel walks up to Evlar, and sits down next to him.
"I've been meaning to talk to you since we got a few minutes."
She glances around the room.
"Don't let my brother see us talking though, he always get protective when I chat with handsome men..."
She lays her hand on his arm, and smiles that million-gold-piece smile.
Without a full night's sleep thanks to his skulking about, Korech is already tired by the time he attends the prayer session. Despite being patient and wary, the endless droning is unbelievably boring and Korech's mind starts to wander. Then he starts to snore.
He lets out a yelp as he is lashed, his back arching but he quickly quiets down, realizing more noise means more lashes. He miserably pays attention to the rest of the prayer.
He takes astonishingly well to the training in the courtyard, finding that blending in and not attracting notice is something he just does naturally. Not only does he learn the lesson, he does so with aplomb and ease.
Somewhat pleased with himself, Korech collapses to eat, hungrily eating the flavourless mush and washing it down with skunky ale. Despite the mediocrity of the food, the big half-orc's appetite remains as it always has.
Once dinner and prayers are done, Korech finds himself stuck doing one thing he has never done well - writing. Thankfully, the barely literate half-orc works well enough as a mimic, and manages to complete the task without too much issue - or comprehension.
By the evening Korech is bewildered and cranky. The useless abstracts of the holy texts, the endless chores, the awful food, and the unpleasant cult has him at his wits end. He pulls off his mask and avoids speaking to anyone.
Later at night, once more, Korech gets up to explore.
During the afternoon prayer, Shirzon's attention starts to drift. To keep awake, she turns her mind to the guard schedule she found in the visitor's chamber earlier. So they have the guard rotation... easily secured with the right amount of gold. But why are some circled? Perhaps those are the patrols that they've paid off? Or the ones they have yet to "convert" to their cause for a little change...
---
For the social training, Shirzon manages to pick up most of what she's supposed to be learning - barely. She mostly goes off common sense and rote memorization to sound enough like they want her to. She chafes under their strict tutilage, though, and is glad when the lesson is over.
---
Her belly full of cheap wine and stew she picked the meat out of, Shirzon spends the evening prayers focused on the black robed priest. It's a good thing Reginar made it clear that we're not here to spill blood for him. One of the only things about this congregation that isn't total horse shit is their strength in numbers. But if I could get him alone... Well, we'll see what the Pathfinders want us to do. But those high priests aren't the innocents tricked into joining a cult--they're ambitious an exploitative. I wouldn't mind being part of the team that takes him down.
---
Shirzon does well with the transcription. Her handwriting is passable, thanks to helping Trelvar with his ledgers and customers' receipts (as well as keeping track of her own side business), but she also manages to snag some of the easier parts for copying - a lot of title pages that only start halfway down that she adds huge first starting letters to.
---
Stashing her weapon and the schedule she found in her bunk, Shirzon sneaks out at night to see if she can find anything else interesting lying about...
"Uh, hey. Sorry, I couldn't sleep. I was just trying to clear my head, trying to focus on Razmir's teachings, you know? It's all so new, but I think I'm starting to get it..."
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Ofelia stares at you with distracted eyes. “They’ll let off when you won’t be considered ‘new’ anymore. That is, at least a few months, my dear” She stands up from her bed and sits on yours. Her smile his mischievous. “How to get through these days? Well, you could start with enjoying your nights…” suggest Ofelia, her smile turning into a lascivious grin. “But I see that’s not like you. Such a shame…”. The white-haired girl brushes against your check, and look you in the eyes for a few second, before sighing as she stands up again and returns to her bed.
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Evlar looks around nervously as Merephel draws near, but his cunning smile makes a clear show that he like what’s going on. “I don’t fear him! he whispers through clenched teeth. “I-I’m here because…I’ve left the home of my father. I heard of the temple, and I thought that joining wouldn’t be too bad. I know, they beat up people and sometimes resort to violence even when it’s not necessary, but…This is a crooked world, and I can’t just starve to my death because I don’t want to adapt myself to it”.
Evlar then takes Merephel hand into his, and with his other hand caresses her cheek. “But you…that smile and that pretty face could win you everything you want…Why you’re here?”
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Korech sneaks out from the barracks again in the heart of the night. This time, he opens a door on the east side of the hallway. Unfortunately, the door is locked. You could swear that you’ve seen Krant fiddling with a rink of keys today.
Stealthily, you move to the kitchen and find Krant snorting quite aloud. You can see his face without his mask for the first time...And it's not a pretty sight . The ring of key is attached to his trousers.
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Shirzon sneaks out from the barracks a few hours after Korech. She silently moves to a staircase leading down to the cells. Here, she finds a door she had seen when she was behind the bars. As she moves closer to the door, Shirzon stumbles and fall, causing a loud noise. Thankfully, no one is in the room. But Shirzon knows she must act quickly if she wants to avoid someone to come here and investigate the source of the sudden noise and find her awake in the middle of the night, roaming through the temple when she’s supposed to be sleeping.
Luckily, the door Shirzon has got her eyes on is unlocked, and the half-orc is able to sneak inside quickly as a night shadow. This small chamber contains nothing more than a simple desk and a locked chest. Unfortunately, Shirzon hasn’t got her thieves’ tools with her, so she cannot open the chest. Piled up in a heap on the table there are clothes (your clothes and those of your companions, along with those that once belonged to Evlar) and several items from your equipment.
As you’re searching the heap of items, your eyes notice something unusual on the chamber’s southern wall: a secret door! Beyond it, there’s a 5 feet wide and just over 100 feet long tunnel. Puddles of filthy water cover the tunnel’s floor.
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Her heart beats wildly in her chest as Shirzon closes the door to the room, and she lets out a long exhale through her nostrils as quietly as she can. Once she calms down a bit and properly takes in where she's ended up, she breaks out into a huge grin under her mask. She starts digging through the pile of equipment, searching for the Pathfinder pouch. She fails to find it, though, and can't find a spare holy symbol for Merephel or even any decent alcohol to deal with her frustration.
Cursing at a whisper, she grabs a couple of belts from the clothing on the table to wear under her robe, so she has somewhere to store anything she finds. That's when a strange element of the room's construction catches her eye. She looks mute closely, and opens up the secret door. She wrinkles her nose at the dank wet tunnel behind it, but decides to continue exploring, hoping to make this little exposition worthwhile.
Calden pulls away as Ofelia brushes his cheek, then rolls on his side to watch her leave. "No, I'm not like that," he says with determination. Dimira's face comes to mind, and he finds that he didn't really need the reminder.
"I may just be a country lout, but I'm not some toy to play around with. I came here looking for some kinship and I think we might get along, but if you're just going to tease, you'd better find someone else. I'm going to figure out how things are run here, either way." Let her make of that what she will.
"I came to the temple for exactly that reason, actually. I've always been pretty, and I've always been treated differently because of it. I want to be able to prove I am strong. I want to prove I am useful, and more than just a pretty face. The Razmiran faith...well, I think the masks don't need an explanation."
Merephel speaks with conviction; she really does mean what she says.
'Thankfully, I've already proven that I'm more than a pretty face.' She thought to herself.
"If you don't mind my asking, why did you leave your family?"
Ofelia furrows her brows, sits on her bed and answers to Calden at a distance "How indelicate! That was not teasing, my dear country lout. It was more like...testing you". She gives another mischievous smile as she undress in front of everyone. "But don't worry you've performed well" she says maliciously as she slips under the covers. "So, tell me, my dear Kassenite lout...does she know you love her?"
"My father," promptly answers Evlar, "He was a gambler and a sore loser. He used to try and beat me every night. I simply had enough of beating my own father every single night" remarks Evlar with a confident smile, almost proud of his violence.
Calden blink twice, trying to make sense of what Ofelia just said. What? How could she know that? Or did she think it was about Meph? Only then does it hit him that she called a Kassenite. He's off of his bed in a heartbeat, standing very close to her and whispering furiously. "What did you call me? How did you know?" Idiot! Now there's no denying it! He shuts his mouth, staring at her and trying to keep panic at bay.
-Posted with Wayfinder
"I see. So strong, and so wise. I like that in a man. I'm glad you left. People should take care of their family, not try to hurt them."
She ponders for a moment.
"My relationship with my family isn't bad. I just wish everyone in town had treated Calden the way they treated me. Maybe things would have been different for him..."
She catches herself wondering about her friend, and returns her attention to the matter at hand.
"Well, in any case, I'm here now. Do you know anyone else in the Church?"
Shirzon goes ahead and explore the tunnel. The tunnel itself is very foul-smelling, but thankfully it’s just over 100 feet long. After about ten seconds spent walking, Shirzon finds herself at the end of the tunnel: a ladder leads upward through a trapdoor. The trapdoor is locked with a bar, but today seems like it’s Shirzon’s lucky day: the bar is not on the opposite side of the trapdoor, but just here in front of her. She just has to remove it. And that she does. There’s a bad surprise awaiting her though: there’s a crate above her hear, placed just atop the trapdoor, which prevents her from accessing to the area beyond the trapdoor. But again, today’s Shirzon’s lucky day, and she manages to lift up and move away the heavy create without difficulty.
Shirzon climbs her way up into a room filled with various items she knows well: all of them are things frequently used in a tavern, such as flour for bread, spare ale casks, empty bottles, and other foods. A smell of rabbit stew and ale comes from behind the door ajar. Shirzon stealthily sneaks behind the door and takes a peek inside…And what she finds makes her standing astonished for a few seconds.
She has just found a secret way out of the temple. She glances at the barkeep, and she instantly recognizes his thick beard and large hands. The man is alone, and there’s no one here apart from…someone, someone who Shirzon isn’t able to identify without prying the door opened. But that would be too much. Even for Shirzon’s lucky day.
Taking all of the precautions, Shirzon climbs down the trapdoor again, moves the crate in its original place and puts the bar where it was.
The half-orc then makes her way back to the temple. Before entering the temple again, though, she’s smart enough to realize that her boots are dirty from the puddles of filthy water covering the tunnel’s floor, and would likely betray her as she returns to her bad, leaving behind a very easy to track set of footprints. At the same time, she hears someone walking in the tunnel, his slow steps echoing through the gallery as he draws closer.
"A woman just knows, Calden" promptly answers Ofelia with her usual mischievous smile, "You've not answered my questions though. Does she know you love her? Let me guess...You haven't told her, and now she's too far away..."
Evlar seems satisfied to have made you believe he's strong and wise. You can see it in his eyes. Along with a hint of regret, perhaps.
"No. Just you. Ties are a weakness" Evlar answers before rubbing his hand through your hairs. "But I suppose everyone can afford a single weakness..." he whispers as he tries to kiss you. On your lips.
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Finally, Korech's curiosity gets the better of him. He slowly, slowly creeps towards Krant and then tries to lift the key ring.
Merephel sighs.
'The things I do for Shelyn...'
She allows him to kiss her, inwardly reluctant. Outwardly, she seems very into it.
Korech has the key ring. Now, what does he do with it?
As Shirzon hears the footsteps from the tunnel, her heart races and the rush of fear and adrenaline raises her hackles and she quickly wipes off her muddy boots with a cloak in the pile of clothing. Tossing it aside once she's done, Shirzon darts out of the room and tries to make her way back to her bunk as quickly and quietly as possible.
Back in the sleeping quarters, Shirzon tries not to appear calm even as her fists clench and she can hear her own blood rush in her ears. At least I know there's a way out of here, now. Once we have what we came for, we can try to escape. If it comes to it, we can always fight that bartender, or try to convince him that we're allowed out. I don't know what kind of information the Society is looking for, but this is going to be a long week...
Realizing the chaos and pain that would ensue if the key ring was found missing, Korech sneaks to the kitchen, trying the cabinet beneath the table.
Regardless of the outcome, Korech returns the key ring, placing it near, but not on Krant.
Calden's brow furrow in anger as Ofelia keeps evading his questions, with those smiles that tell him nothing. That's a load of sheeps whollops. She might have guessed about Dimi, from my face or something, but there's no way she could have known about Kassen. He takes two deep breaths, trying to keep his face as neutral as possible and trying to get a read on the woman in front of him.
Could she be sent here by the cult to figure out whether we're reliable? Probably not. She'd press harder in that case. Maybe, if I want her to trust me, I'll have to trust here first. A bit. He takes a deep breath again, recalling his last meeing with Dimira, walking in the woods near his parents' farm. "She knows," he says, trying to sound convinced. "I didn't realize for the longest time, and I didn't have to words to say it right-out. But neither did she. And it doesn't really matter, though... She knows how much I care about her. I said I'd come back for her, and I will." He stops talking and crosses his arms. "Now I've answered your question, true and without evasion."