GM Ladile's TL;DR: A Pathfinder Society Campaign

Game Master Lady Ladile

"Sledge can open anythin', buh ih sounds like ah terrible idea tah open this box..." Rumble admits. "Should we jus' bring ih back wi' us?" He rubs his chin thoughtfully, but unfortunately no other ideas spring forth.
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Above game, why would anyone open this box? Unless I'm interpreting some hints incorrectly, it seems pretty clear that the contents of that box should really just stay inside!

"I think that we should take this with us," Zithembe says after his psychic examination. "We may want it with us when we finally encounter the div. I hope it will prove useful in healing its mind."

Having thoroughly explored the ruins you still find yourselves with nearly as many questions as answers and a mysterious box that seems too dangerous to open but too important to simply leave behind. After confirming for sure that it doesn't seem to bear any traps or locks, you decide to take the box with you for the time being.

You head back the way you came through the plague-haunted ruins, making whatever small stops that you deem necessary to collect some of the broken items you discovered or the bones of the experiment victims, certain that Obahar will be most interested in hearing about all that you’ve found and witnessed. And sure enough, as you step back into the bright light of day Obahar hurries over, clearly excited to see you all again.

"You have returned! Are you all well? What did you see inside?"

He pulls out a piece of parchment and a quill, ready to take notes. "And please, don't spare the details. Even the smallest one could be important!"

"Aye'll leave tha details tah tha others, buh aye'll give ye sum broad strokes tah organize yer notes," Rumble explains, setting the box down at his feet and sitting on it.

"There were two skele's wit' swords in tha one room, ah bunch o' necromancy rocks in tha other, restless spirits in anotha, two movin' columns in ah fourth, an' then tha box," he lists while gesturing to his seat, "in ah final." Ha! I was helpful with reading and writing! Maybe I can do something besides fighting.

"The place appears to be the laboratory of a Pharoanic necromancer," Zithembe explains after Rumble's preamble. "There were animated dead soldiers and the remains of prisoners, which we have brought forth for proper burial, who had been the subjects of cruel experimentation.

"The creature--a div--that your workmen released when they opened the ruin was the necromancer's servant. The div apparently attempted to betray or undermine the necromancer in some way and was punished by being sealed inside. It destroyed much of what was inside in its growing madness, but we recovered what we found."

"Oh, er...hmm, I see..." Obahar mutters as he listens to Rumble's accounting of your trip into the ruins, brow crinkled a bit as he scribbles on his parchment. "Well, that's a start but those details are still quite vague; the risen dead are not entirely unheard of when excavating ancient sites and neither are fell guardians..."

He looks up at the rest of the group, expectant.

"Are there any ah, other details you can add?" the scholar asks, hopefully. And luckily for him Zithembe has little trouble in expounding on Rumble's basic outline of what transpired, filling in some of the additional details. As Obahar writes, his expression grows less confused and more thoughtful.

"Hmm...I see, I see. All of that would make sense. And from what you and others have told me, that div tore out of here in a hurry, as if it knew - or at least had some idea - of where it wanted to go. Now we just have to figure out where that place might be!"

Obahar smiles. "And on that note, I do have at least one suggestion for you. Perhaps the Thrice-Shrouded Necropolis is worth a visit, in case the spirals and other references to the Lady of Graves are significant. In the meantime, I will do some research into your findings. Besides the Thrice-Shrouded Necropolis, you should also follow up on any other leads that you have. Oh! And be sure to get a good rest, too. We can reconvene tomorrow. Does that sound like a plan?"

"Ah Necropolis looks like ah priority tah me, as does an alleged poisoner," Rumble shares. "Aye'm ok tah keep goin', buh if we need tah rest, thah's ok wit' me too." I don't know what I'd do to help a mad woman. Hopefully the others can. I wonder if there is a spell that could do it...
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GM, is the environment still warranting heat related protection? Just for spell prep.

"I'm still able to call up on Sarenrae for healing," Parison says. "I wouldn't be able to beseech her blessing in battle until I've had a chance to rest and commune with her in my daily prayers."

The cleric looks around at the group. "I'd be up for checking up on one of the leads, no matter if it is the woman speaking in an ancient language or the alchemist who was suspected but never proven guilty of poisoning. And for better or for worse, we should keep that magic box with us until we know more about its purpose."

"Let us head to the temple of Sarenrae, then," he suggests. "Maybe we can bring some relief to the woman or, at least, speak for her in her madness."

No, it's not bad enough to warrant Endure Elements or anything like that.

"Very compassionate of you," Obahar remarks, mildly surprised but not displeased as you quickly reach the decision to visit the Temple of the Redeeming Sun. "I pray that you'll be able to help that poor woman and dig up some additional clues at the same time!"

And with that, you bid Obahar and the others at the dig site farewell and venture back into the city proper. Your first destination is the Temple of the Redeeming Sun.

This temple is the largest in the city. It boasts a massive courtyard where the faithful congregate to pray under the open sun. The gold plating on the surrounding buildings focuses the rays of the sun inward on a tremendous altar at the center of the courtyard — the heat at the apex is so intense that the priests require protective magic to survive giving their sermons. One of the side buildings that provide shelter from the sun is the hospice wing. Upon arriving and making your inquiry about the raving woman it is this wing where a priest named Herhut escorts you to visit her. As you approach you can hear mad screams echoing through the halls and Herhut shakes his head.

"Her name is Mauta and she has been like this for some time now," he informs you in a low voice. "It started shortly after her arrival here, screams and ramblings in garbled Ancient Osiriani. We have been doing our best to care for her but so far we’ve been unable to ease these ramblings or the hallucinations she seems to be having."

Herhut ushers you through a doorway at the end of the hallway and into a small room where Mauta is being cared for, separate from the wing’s other patients. A thin, middle-aged woman lies curled up on a small bed, trembling and shaking as though in the grip of a seizure. Her stare is vacant and her lips constantly move, sometimes silently mouthing words and other times screaming madly.

"If any of you are able to shed any light on this or know of a way to help her, please, do what you can," the priest murmurs.

"She references seeking the spiral of death," Zithembe quietly informs the others as they approach. He kneels down beside the bed and asks in ancient Osiriani, "Mauta? How can we help you?"

Maria keeps up with the group, checking her notes to confirm enough of the information was passed along to the site overseer. She agrees that checking in on the mentally ill is the first call, but allows Zith to manage the conversation due to his obvious familiarity with the language.

Having never been to this temple, as the group approaches it, Parison takes in the surroundings in awe. Feeling the presence of his goddess, he stops for a brief moment to pay homage and to offer a few words of a devotional prayer to Sarenrae.

After the group begins making their inquiry about the woman in a mad state and meets with Herhut, the cleric moves to fall in step beside him as the group is taken to see her. "I am an acolyte of the Dawnflower," he says, motioning to his holy symbol. "While I am here on behalf of the Pathfinder Society, please let me know if you have need of my services while we are here."

When the group reaches Mauta, Parison wisely lets Zithembe take the lead in speaking with her, since he seems to understand what she is saying.

Rumble stands uncomfortably in the room with Mauta. Talk about above my pay-grade. I haven't the foggiest idea what to do about someone like this. Better keep my gob shut and see how this develops. Might learn something. I must learn something.

"Spiral of death? Is she looking for the old ruin? Maybe we should take her there. It's safe enough now. Poor woman; she's suffering. The ruin and the div must be connected to her somehow."

Effie is glum, a result of her inability to offer immediate practical help and the similar failure of the priests of Sarenrae.

What use is all this gold, when nobody can relieve the suffering of an innocent?

The group watches carefully as Zithembe kneels down and attempts to address the suffering woman. At the sound of her name there is a brief flicker of recognition in her eyes and she raises her head to stare blearily at the shabti.

"موٹا ... نہیں ، اہم نہیں ... سرپل تلاش کریں ..." the woman mumbles before dropping her head again.

At this point anyone may attempt either a Diplomacy or Heal check to try and calm the woman *or* something else creative such as what Zithembe expressed interest in doing *or* both. I'm always up for trying to let unusual class abilities and powers shine when there's a good opportunity!

Diplo: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25

Knowing she hasn't got a clue about what the woman might be saying, and definitively knowing a thing or five about having a few screws loose and the tiniest contact with reality, Hepsubia let her body speak, nearly wrapping herlelf around Mauta, ushering sweet nothings and soothing sounds to her ear, until she calms down

Okay, so that's an awesome roll! Zith, I'd still like to see what you had in mind to do (same for anyone else who may want to say or do something) because I think everything put together would make for a cool scene :)

I'm reeking of awesomeness.

Parison is a little bit taken aback at Hepsubia's effort to calm the woman down, but he notices that Mauta does not seem to be acting in an aggressive manner at the cuddling she is receiving.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (8) + 10 = 18

As Hepsubia comforts the poor woman, Parison watches closely at Mauta's behavior and body language and makes an attempt to discern if her illness is a result of being frightened by something that she saw or experienced.

Maria just makes notes and studies the interactions between the maddened woman and her teammates.

This kind of emotional stuff is definitely something I'll have to settle in and start figuring out someday. Might as well get a start on figuring it out.

She starts a new page of her journal with the title Social Crap Interactions.

Underneath she makes a note about physical contact helping to build connections and waits to see what everyone else does.

"Essentially," Zithembe says, pausing and arching a brow as Hepsubia imposes herself upon the afflicted woman. "She is denying her sense of self and fixated upon finding the spiral, presumably the spiral of death. Possibly imploring us to find the spiral."

The shabti removes a crystal from the pouch at his waist. It immediately begins to glow with a soft light upon contact with his fingers. "Allow me to try something," he says.

Since the scenario provides a way to communicate with her, I'm don't want to handicap myself on the Diplomacy roll (hypnotism's technical DC is 20 + will save modifier). Faith Healing takes 1 hour to perform, so I'll wait until we've played out the mechanics provided to see if we need to try that.

He holds the crystal on his open palm and begins to sway the stone in a gentle, rhythmic pattern. He alternates between the ancient Osiriani dialect that is his native tongue and Taldane, speaking in a soft and lilting voice, "Mauta. Listen to my voice. Listen to the sound of my voice. الاستماع إلى صوت صوتي. استمع إلى الصوت. استمع. Let your eyes fall closed. You are safe and at peace. اسمحوا عينيك تسقط مغلقة. أنت آمن وفي سلام. Close your eyes. Listen to my voice. You are safe. You are safe. انت آمن .انت آمن. انت آمن. Tell me what you need me to hear. Tell me what you need to say. قل لي ما تحتاج لي أن أسمع. قل لي ما تحتاج إلى قوله."

Diplomacy (Hypnotism): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (3) + 9 = 12

"Wha', aye, uh," Rumble mumbles as Hep and Zithembe take to their very different methods of easing the mind. Trying to be helpful, Rumble places his hands on Mauta's shoulders to help her find her center. Maybe some extra wait will reminder her of the basic facts of life? I'd pray too, but Torag doesn't do quite prayers and then I'd drown out the others.
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Diplomacy (Aid): 1d20 ⇒ 9

"It's almost like she's a sick child, in need of a nurse."

Not wanting to crowd Hep or Zith, Effie hums a soothing melody and quietly assures Muata that everything is going to turn out alright.

aid diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (19) + 8 = 27

Perhaps it's unorthodox but Hepsubia has clearly never been one to care overmuch about following rules and protocol. She gathers the sick, rambling woman into her arms and rocks her, as a mother might rock a frightened child. Rumble tries, in his own way, to help but Mauta flinches away just a bit when the dwarf places his hands on her shoulders - perhaps out of fear or perhaps she's just sensitive to having her shoulders touched.

Luckily, this doesn't seem to undo Hepsubia's efforts as Mauta's trembling slowly lessens. Standing a respectable distance back, Effie hums softly while Parison and Maria stand by, both observing but potentially ready to leap in and help if necessary.

With the group working together like a (mostly) well-oiled machine to calm the sick, clearly disturbed woman, Zithembe now deems it safe to attempt to draw out her memories through hypnotism. As he sways the crystal back and forth, Mauta's eyes lock on and track its movements, a glazed look coming over them as the shabti's voice alternates between Taldane and Ancient Osiriani. After about a minute of this, Mauta takes a ragged breath...and speaks.

"A face in the dark...a face without a body, a face with horns of the ram and hair like writhing snakes! I saw it...I looked at it and it looked at me. And it screamed...it screamed and screamed and screamed! It wanted to know, but I didn't know, I didn't, I didn't, I didn't," she whispers, voice small and frightened even though her eyes remain glassy and vacant.

"میں اس کی تلاش کرتی ہوں جو موت کا چہرہ پہنے! مجھے اس کی موجودگی کا احساس ہے! سورج کے خادموں نے ثقب اسود کو چھپانے کی کوشش کی ، لیکن وہ باقی ہیں! وہ کہاں ہیں؟!'...over and over again...but I didn't know. I don't know, I don't, I don't, I don't...!"

"Please...I don't know...leave me be..." Mauta whimpers, her eyes slowly closing and her breathing growing more regular as the recalled memory begins to fade from her mind.

Knowledge: Religion + Inspiration: 1d20 + 10 + 1d6 ⇒ (19) + 10 + (3) = 32

Maria shares the information (In the K: Religion Spoiler) if Zith translates the Ancient Osiriani for the group.

Zithembe places the glowing stone back inside his pouch and steps away from Mauta. "Rest, now," he says quietly.

Drawing back, he waits for the others to relay the woman's secret. "She clearly encountered the div. Its mad cries must have pierced deeply into her psyche. The div seeks the woman who wears the spiral of death. It seems to believe she is near enough to sense. It also calls out the servants of the sun," he pauses nodding toward the courtyard before continuing, "Claiming they have hidden the dungeons. Specifically more than one in number.

"I wonder if the priests here might know some of the city's history that may play into this or at least where they found Mauta as the div seemed to think it was near the woman with the death spiral when she encountered it. The death spiral may be the key in unlocking the creature's trapped memories."

"The div didn't curse Mauta," Parison says to the others in a low voice. "Nor did it inflict her with any harmful magic," he adds somberly. "Her run-in with the div has left her emotionally scarred. Only time can heal such trauma, but she is here with faithful people who can aid in her recovery," he says sadly.

When Zithembe mentions the servants of the sun, Parison nods in agreement. "If you like, I can attempt to speak to the high priest to learn more about Sarenrae's presence within the city and what the church has done to aid it since a temple for the faithful was established here."

"You would have more sway than any of us," he says.

"Let me speak with Herhut first," Parison says. "He might be able to give us the information we need."

The cleric disengages himself from the group and approaches Herhut. "Brother Herhut," Parison says. "The creature that frightened Mauta seems to be looking for some sort of dungeon or dungeons that it claimed that worshippers of our goddess have hidden. Have you heard of any such place in the city? If not, do you happen to have heard where Mauta was found when she was brought here?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5

Parison quietly steps back outside of Mauta's chamber, where Herhut stands vigil in the corridor. The priest seems both startled and rather perplexed when Parison approaches with questions of hidden dungeons. He gives Parison a rather searching look, his eyes briefly shifting back towards the partially-cracked door that leads into Mauta's chamber.

"There are...old, old documents, within these walls, that do reference such a place," Herhut responds, his voice low. "A place that our ancient brethren once worked to cleanse and seal away. Unfortunately much has been lost to the ages; no record of its location remains with us. But I can give you a name: Dungeons of the Ever-Dying."

He shoots another worried glance back toward Mauta's door. "If this has anything to do with the rumors I have heard lately, of things escaped from ancient tombs and catacombs, then I pray that you and your friends will be able to help put a stop to it. And that this information will help you. I'm sorry that I can't offer anything more."

"As for Mauta, she was found wandering the streets in a daze, babbling and raving as incoherently as she was when you arrived. We thought that she might have family or friends looking for her but no one has come seeking anyone matching her description," Herhut adds, sadly. "She may have no home to return to, when or if she recovers. But even if that should be the case, we will do what we can for her."

Rumble winces when Mauta does, but seeing that he isn't helping, he leaves her be.

Ha, it worked! With a small smile, he leaves it to Parison to speak with his fellow Sarenites. A hidden dungeon? Sounds like something we found before... And there are more? Oof, how are we going to do that?

"Well, 'opefully we can fin' sum more clues tah help soon, eh? Off tah tha alchemist? 'E saw ah 'demonic face' as well!" he points out.

Maria thinks for a bit, "She who wears the spiral of death, that is definitely a reference to Pharasma. If we don't have luck with the alchemist, we should pursue that line. I'm sure there is a temple in town to that deity as well."

"Hey, wasn't there a Pharasmin at the dig site? Khel? Do you think this means her?"

"All you can do is all you can do, Brother," Parison responds. "We believe that Mauta encountered this evil after it escaped from the dig site. I hope that she will recover from her ordeal, but it will take time. I do know she is in good hands here with you and those who spread the Dawnflower's enlightenment. And thank you for the information you have given me. My friends and I will do our best to find this malignant presence and stop it."

The cleric walks back into the room to his companions. "Brother Herhut told me that long ago, the church of Sarenrae cleansed and sealed up a place known as the Dungeons of the Undying. However, they have no current records of where it is located. If that is what the div is looking for, we'll need to find it. If we do, we may also find the div."

"We still have time today to see the alchemist," Zithembe agrees. "We can begin again our work in the morning if that does not provide immediate direction. I would think that if Khel was there when the div escaped and it was she who it sought, that it would not still be seeking... and unless very old, not known to it."

After another quick confab you decide to go pay the alchemist a visit and then figure out what your next move ought to be. You leave Mauta in good hands with the Sarenites and head back out into the city again, making for the location indicated on the scrap of paper you received during your briefing.

In short order you arrive at the shop in question, a fairly humble, single-room establishment with a painted sign that proclaims this to be 'Sokari’s Elixirs'. But there's a second sign, this one hanging on the front door, that reads 'Closed'.

And since I'm not going to waste time with making someone tell me that they try knocking on the door...

There are a lot of ways that you could proceed from here but the obvious solution seems to be the best place to start: you knock on the shop's door. From within you can hear what sounds like a muffled curse and then some shuffling and banging around. After a few moments a youngish-looking man opens the door enough to stick his head out and stare at the group of you. He blinks peevishly.

"Yeahhhh, whaddya want? Can’t you see that I’m closed?" he asks, tone clearly unfriendly as he gestures to the sign on the door. "Buncha tourists? Go find someone else to pester!"

He then starts to close the door.

"Oh, but we're not tourists" Effie smiles warmly.

"We're investigators tracking an escaped div. You reported encountering a demonic face that fits the div's description. Mind if we come in for a chat? I'm sure we can help each other."

Diplo: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (8) + 8 = 16

Sokari hesitates but there's just something about Effie's smile that he can't seem to say no to. With a heavy sigh, he nods.

"Fine, come in. It's not like I was doing anything anyway," he replies, a despondent note creeping into his tone as he opens the door and allows the group entry.

The interior of the shop is a cramped, single-room establishment but to your surprise, all of the shelves and counters where wares would normally be stocked are completely bare.

"I don't know about this div or if it's the same thing that I encountered. I only know that a disembodied voice spoke to me and...promised me power, great power. And then it made me do it, made me change my formulas, poison my customers...until the authorities found out and banned me from doing my work and confiscated my wares," the alchemist explains bitterly. "I was lucky not to be arrested, but my recipes were sophisticated enough no one could tell what I had done."

craft (alchemy): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5

Effie knows a little alchemy - enough to safely work with black powder - but it's no help to her here. She looks for any reaction from her fellows.

Alchemy: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (17) + 9 = 26

Alchemy? Sorry, I know nothing about it. Can I try? Do you makes things explode? I must be dangerously fun, and I love my fun with the bittersweet taste of danger. Like when you ask in a bar the house speciality drink, without knowing or caring what ingredients are mixed in. We should totally do that, after that mission, in fact. I can give you a formula to keep your hair clean, if you like, Sokari. I don't think you would be able to poison anyone, in fact, at least not willingly. the Div was the real cuprit here. Naughty Div. He ought to be spanked. And killed, or banished, or imprisonned forever and ever and ever.

Maria takes a look after Hep and comes to the same conclusion (can't fail DC 13 Craft Alchemy), though she presents it in a significantly different way. Instead whispering to her allies, "Hep is right, he couldn't have completed these formulas on his own."

She smiles at the alchemist, "Well now, did this voice tell you anything else? Now before you start obfuscating what you know, just remember that we are the only ones looking to clear your good name."

Diplomacy Aid: 1d20 ⇒ 4

This is her first attempt at nice talky, it is not great. Probably a bit threatening?

"What specifically did the voice have you change? What effect did the altered elixirs have?" Zithembe asks. "Did the voice instruct you to sell to specific persons or indiscriminately?"

"We are trying to stop this div," Parison says. "If we do, we may be able to find proof that the div was manipulating you to create these poisonous toxins and clear your name, as Maria just said. Don't attempt to lie or I'll know," he says, holding his holy symbol. "As will Sarenrae. Be truthful and we'll do what we can to restore your reputation in the city."

Not sure what to do here just yet, Rumble stands stoically with Sledge's head against the ground and his hands atop the other end of its haft. He stares at the alchemist with an uncertain look. Makes sense that the guards took his things if he was crafting poison. Guided or not, he made them... Why are the others letting him off so easy? Perhaps something I don't know about the way this sort of thing works? Giving into the temptation of power makes him sound willing to me!

Sokari gapes at Hepsubia and Maria and his face flushes, both with anger but also with what seems to be embarrassment.

"Wh...I...hmph! Fine! The base recipes were mine, but...I had some help," he huffs, crossing his arms like the world's biggest child having a good sulk. "The voice offered me power and even immortality! Even though I never saw the source of the voice...when the book showed up on my work bench, I knew I hadn't imagined it."

He pauses and looks around at all of you. "Damned if I know where it came from or how old it is, but there's all sorts of notes in it. It's all written in Ancient Osiriani so there's a lot of it that I can't really understand, but what bits I picked out reference experiments as well as formulas magical and alchemical."

"The voice told me that it would open the way to immortality for me but that there were steps I'd have to take, experiments to run. And that's...it gets fuzzy there. I started swapping the usual ingredients out of my recipes for other ingredients and changing the amount that I used of others. Belladonna or hemlock in the headache remedies, way more buckthorn than necessary for the laxatives. Little changes, enough that a layperson wouldn't notice a difference, but enough to have catastrophic effects."

"But I promise, I never wanted to hurt anyone or make anyone sick! You have to believe me," Sokari begs. "It felt like I had no choice or real control over what I was doing! I can't tell you anything else about the voice but I still have the book and if it'll clear my name, you can keep it! I never want to see it again in my lifetime!"

And, assuming that you acquiesce to this, Sokari fetches said book for you - an ancient, but well-preserved tome. Just as the alchemist says, all of the text is written in Ancient Osiriani and is filled with notes on necromantic experiments. While flipping through it it becomes apparent that the 'voice' lied to Sokari - the notes alone are not enough to replicate immortality of any sort. But they do provide a clue, references to ancient markets that the author frequented to procure supplies as well as their service to the Pharaoh of Forgotten Plagues.

The tome also contains three spells in its' pages: Memory Lapse, Spectral Hand, and Pain Strike.

"Thank you for giving us this journal," Parison says. "It will help us put a stop to this div and what it was trying to do."

As he finishes, Parison notices that Rumble is giving the alchemist a strange look.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (13) + 10 = 23

Suddenly getting the vibe from Rumble that what the group is doing is tantamount to giving Sokari a slap on the wrist, Parison takes the initiative before Rumble can think to do so.

"I'm not your father, Sokari," Parison says. "But I'm going to give you a talk like I'm a father who loves his son. You said yourself that you willingly went along with what this voice told you. I believe you when you said you didn't mean to harm anyone, but the road to Hell is made with the cobblestones of good intentions. All you had to do was say no, but you let this div blind you with delusions of grandeur. If someone makes you an offer that's too good to be true, it almost always 'is' too good to be true!"

A little surprised at his own tirade, Parison nevertheless plows on.

"We'll speak with the city authorities, and while 'unwitting dupe' better describes you than 'purposeful poisoner', it's not much better in regards to ever being able to practice alchemy again, especially when word gets around in the city. But I believe in my goddess and I believe her edict everyone deserves a chance to seek and find redemption. Visit the temple of Sarenrae and speak with Brother Herhut about what you have done and that you wish to begin the first steps toward penance. I won't tell you that things will be like they once were for you, but it will go a long way in the eyes of your fellow citizens that you are remorseful for your actions and it is a step in the right direction for you in the matters of your soul. And if you do that, you might be able to resume the life you had before you let this div lead you astray."

There's a wistful note in Effie's voice as her warm smile becomes one of sadness.

"The padre is right, Sokari. We all have to take responsibility for our own actions. The fate of your soul is decided by you and you alone. Sarenrae's chance of redemption is worth grabbing with both hands. It's not too late for you, Sokari."

Effie's gaze falls upon Parison. He's a good man. Worth listening to. She lays a gentle hand upon his shoulder and nods once.

Zithembe listens to the alchemist's account with a thoughtful expression. After Parison's chastisement, he comments quietly, "Is the robbed guilty of his own robbery because he opened his door at a knock and then the robber forced his way inside? I am not certain how much free will was involved in his choice, truly, listening to how he speaks of the experience."

He turns his attention to the book. [b]"Regardless, he has been punished for the consequences of his actions by the city. Hmm. I do not yet see how this tome fits into our mystery. It follows the same line of study as the shredded tomes in the sealed laboratory. But why would the div save this one tome versus all the others it destroyed in its madness and, more curious, give it away?"

"'The div made me do it' isn't going to be much of a defence when you get to the boneyard, Zith. Will you get to the boneyard, actually? In any event, the punishment meted out by mortals seems of small importance next to the judgement of the gods. One cannot expect absolution without penance."

I should think more about this myself. Sarenrae starts to make a great deal of sense.