Fiona rests a hand on the man's shoulder. "I understand, sir... in fact, I have a feeling that's why we're here." She whispers, glancing over at Mutt, Bofur & Variel before turning back to the legless man. "We seek a man known as the Splithog Pauper, and we intend to deal with him however we must. We understand that this place is his hideout. Anything you can tell us about his defences will go a long way towards that goal."
"If you're afraid the Pauper will survive and come back for you, rest assured we won't let it come to that. Irok devit fendrik swork. By blood it is sworn." She rests a hand over her heart.
Mutt nods and humphs. "It's clear to me that he's afraid. This Pauper may be the reason why. Don't worry. We'll get rid of him. I'll make sure of it. And I always make good on my word." He growls out at the end.
The man looks around fearfully for a moment, but he obviously looks moved by Fiona's words. Letting out a long breath, he quickly begins to speak to Fiona rapidly.
"The damn Pauper runs this part of town. You lot look tough but he's got a lot of thugs upstairs. Nobody knows what the bastard looks like. But people disappear when they speak against him. This is a full room and you have to understand - you don't fix this, I'm a dead man. They've got a half dozen or more men up there. One is a damn good shot with a bow. Watch the cloister door." He points to a door in the north of the foyer.
"Sour wine bucket set up over it so they know if someone is trying to bug the padre. That said they'll see ya coming up the front. And Father Padrick is a good sort. Just... drunk. Now be quick. I've been seen talking to ya and if this don't work out, I'm dead."
Mutt scowls and punches his palm. Clearly, he's ready for a fight.
"Well, in fer a copper in for a gold! Should we jess get this over with?" Bofur sighs.
Variel nods. "Let us step in and speak to our host ... in whatever language works best."
The elf loosens the spiked whip on his belt and holds it in hand as the group moves in.
Fiona pats the legless man on the shoulder once more. "We'll stop him."
She rises, hefts her earthbreaker to her shoulder, and follows the others.
"Should we try the chapel? But careful of the bucket," Bofur adds with a smile, picturing the lot of them wet and reeking of wine vinegar.
"Might as well." As the group begins to move, Variel speaks a small prayer, after which his eyes glow briefly as he looks around.
The group boldly make their way through the crowded chapel with all eyes on them, and then to the door leading upstairs. The door is slightly ajar. Variel looks up, spots the bucket, and neatly removes it. With the bucket to the side, the group start to head up the stairs. As they move, they hear footfalls behind them.
A young, but weary-looking man rushes up behind everyone.
"Hold! Can I ask what you're doing? Those are our private cloisters!"
Hawk's blood... so much for entering the quiet way.
Fiona turns to the young man and puts a finger to her lips. "I understand that sir... allow me to explain. We spoke with some of the beggars downstairs. They told us that the Splithog Pauper is hiding upstairs, and between them and other information we have gathered, we have good reason to believe them. We intend to stop the Pauper from ruining any more lives--by the head of my earthbreaker or by the heel of my boot."
As the group moves, Mutt unsheathes his greataxe and shoulders it. When the young man shows up to dissuade them, Mutt's response is a heavy scowl, a tight grip on the weapon, and a low intimidating growl. "Out of the way."
Variel scowls at Mutt. "Save your anger for the ones who deserve it. This man is rightly concerned."
To the young man he adds, "Forgive the large one, he means well, but doesn't always direct his emotions properly."
Mutt snorts at Variel's words. "A warrior doesn't need emotions. He just needs to get rid of his enemy. But, I will try. I just want to get this over with." He looks back to the young man. "For what it's worth, I'm not mad at you." However, Mutt has his suspicions. He looks over the young man, checking for any association with the Pauper in his behavior and appearance.
Bofur loads his crossbow and points it at the young man. "Now that we've made our intentions clear, why don't you go see if the padre needs a li'l help walkin' in a straight line? Hmm?"
Old Horn does not like Riddleport.
The cramped, stinking, unbelievably corrupt city has been a shock for the poor goat and it's taken incredible time and care for you to get him through the city. The noise, the chaos, the smell of the place has been overwhelming. That said, the enormous Thassilonian arch called the Cyphergate, at least 10,000 years old, gives the city a certain majesty and beyond all that is the Blot. Smoky and dark, like a black cloud, it hangs above the city unmoving even in the strong wind from the ocean. When watched for long enough, it changes shape and shifts. It appears to occasionally have widespread, but subtle effects on the city. At one point while watching it, you could swear that you saw your dagger move.
If only it wasn't so darned high up.
The Order of the Cyphermages was the second thing that drew you here. It famous society of wizards dedicated to studying the enormous arch that hangs over the city, and as good a way as any to truly open your mind to the wonders that lay in the world. And also get you away from all the drunk, dangerous pirates.
You now find yourself looking at a grand structure of stone and timber, perched upon a lonely crag nestled against the slope of the mountain adjacent to Riddleport. It provides a magnificent view of the Cyphergate. There is also a large sign on the front of the lodge.
NO VACANCIES
Within the front doors stands an enormous desk with a bored-looking elf seated behind it.
The man's eyes go wide and he quickly staggers back.
"P...please, we care for the poor here! Don't hurt anybody. F-father Podrick is asleep upstairs and he means the best. I don't know what you want but ... oh Everlight preserve me!"
He sinks to his knees and begins praying. The staircase leads upwards.
Fiona pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs in exasperation. "Mutt... you didn't need to terrify the poor man." She grumbles. "Sir, we'll do what we can to keep Father Podrick safe."
She motions for Mutt to take point.
Mutt humphs at Fiona. He walks up to the young man. "Easy there. I'm not going to hurt you. We've been sent by Arnaldo Rolf from the Publican House to help get rid of the Pauper. So, don't be afraid. Stand up. The poor need you to be strong."
Mutt then moves up the stairs, taking point.
Uncertain that the young man's sudden bout of piety isn't an act, Bofur keeps his crossbow trained on the acolyte. "Away witcha. Yer flock are in need of yer prayers."
Old Horn's nervousness is not only warranted, it's shared. Before he left, Thaddeus had never went farther than a day's travel out of his tiny village. He knew of cities, he knew that lots of people lived there, but he had never seen one before. Now here at Riddleport, nearly suffocating under the sensory overloard, he was wondering how people could live like this, and if this was the second biggest mistake he's made in his life.
Still, his desire for knowledge urged him onwards. He had heard about this 'blot,' the Cyphergate, and the Cyphermages that studied it. But now that he was here in this filthy city, he wondered what, exactly, his plan was again. Maybe he was hoping for some grand revelation looking at the blot or the arch that would explain the source of his powers, or at least get him into the Order of Cyphers. But now, standing in front of the guildhall, he questioned what to do. Does he just waltz in and ask for membership? Is that how things are done here?
Well, only one way to find out.
Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Thaddeus walks up to the front desk, trying to hide his slight nervousness and embarrassment.
"Ahh... G'day, sir," Thaddeus says to the clerk, with a painfully obvious country twang.
The elf looks up at you with an expression usually normally people would only get if they'd given a bad haircut.
"Oh good, you brought a goat. I mean, welcome to the splendid Cypherlodge, where the ancient Orders of Cyphermages ponder ancient mysteries the likes of which you will never understand," his language is distant and he seems far more interested with his spellbook.
"Can I help you?"
The man is terrified and Mutt's immediate change in behaviour doesn't seem to help. He just yelps and runs out into the main hall, but makes no further noise.
The group heads up the stairs.A simple timber partition splits this room into two bedrooms, each furnished with a modest bed, a plain writing desk and chair, a wardrobe, and a bookcase. The room to the west hosts a collection of empty wine bottles, while the one to the east is fastidiously organized.
The westernmost cloister seems to have a man asleep in it, an empty wine bottle beside him. He is snoring the riotous snore of the extremely drunk.
A door leads southwards.
Thaddeus nervously tugs at the collar of his shirt.
"Uh, yeah, Ah was wonderin' howabouts one could, Ah'mean, how Ah could, get a mem-ber-sheep here... Now Ah know Ah don't look or sound th' part, but Ah am a bit smarter than most folk, y'know."
Thaddeus glances down at the spellbook the clerk is reading, hoping to be able to identify what's on the pages.
You peek over his shoulder. It looks like a spell which makes the speaker more charismatic called 'eagle's splendor'. From the unfriendliness you've received, he could use it.
The elf looks you over carefully, ignoring your peeking as his spellbook. "No, you don't. Thanks to the Blot we've received a lot of attention recently, and so there's a wait to get in as an apprentice. I... hm."
He continues sizing you up before nodding once.
"You're perfect. Follow me, there's a competency test you need to take in order to qualify for apprenticeship. If you pass, the Cyphermages can make use of you."
Thaddeus does not attempt to hide glancing at the elf's spellbook.
"Hmm, Eagle's Splen-Dor. Useful lil' spell, Ah reckon."
It was an admittedly transparent attempt, but hopefully showing that he knows at least a little about magic would endear him to the elf, or at least get him a little further than the front desk.
Not that it seemed necessary. He quickly, and perhaps with a bit too much eagerness, followed the elf into the building. Old Horn followed close behind. While he didn't overly like buildings and enclosed spaces, it was better than the festering wreck that was the rest of the city.
"Compeh-tensey test? Alrighty, then. Reckon Ah'll just have to try mah best. Oh, uh, what's yer moniker there? Mah name's Thaddeus."
Mutt just sighs in frustration as the man runs off. He continues to lead on. When the group arrives at the top, Mutt looks around.
He looks to the others (Fiona in particular) for direction.
As the group moves up the stairs, Mutt looks at Fiona and Variel. "I guess I should apologize for scaring him off or something like that. I did try to calm him down."
Fiona takes a look around as well before nodding at the southern door. "That way."
"I guess I should apologize for scaring him off or something like that. I did try to calm him down."
"Well, you can do that on the way out. We've got work to do for now." She whispers, trying not to wake up the sleeping, drunken priest.
"Why dinnae ye save the sorries till we're sure he innae coming back with a dozen Pauper cronies?" Bofur prods the big guy.
As the group moves up the stairs, Variels speaks a word of prayer. His odd elven eyes made even stranger by the slight glow of the spell, Variel says nothing as he comes up the stairs and enters the room.
The elf groans as you struggle with a few longer words. You make your way through the lodge, passing several open rooms. Strange runes are drawn all over the place, similar to those you saw on the enormous Cyphergate that spans Riddleport. You hear the occasional chant of a magical spell and in one room see several people puzzling over an uninteresting-looking rock. Finally he brings you to a small room with a desk. He closes the door.
"Apprentice Avariel. Please have a seat."
Avariel pulls a simple gold ring off of his finger and passes it to you.
"Tell me everything you can discover about this ring. If you need a scroll, let me know."
Variel creeps his way to the south door and peers out into the hall through a keyhole. He sees a shaggy-haired, scuzzy man slumped against a wall, staring down the stairs. He has a nasty-looking spiked club at his side.
Mutt nods at Fiona and Bofur. He then regains his determination and focuses. When Variel returns, he asks, "So, what do you see?"
Variel whispers, "Guard watching the stairs. He'll notice as soon as we open the door."
Thaddeus takes the golden ring and sits down. He looks at the ring for a moment, steadying himself. The pressure is on. This is his big chance to prove he's not just some country hick. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he begins rolling the ring slowly in between his fingers, studying it.
Taking your time, you hold up the ring which appears to be a plain gold band, and then cast detect magic. The ring glows with an aura you easily identify as abjuration. After studying it for a while, you're fairly certain there's a shield of faith spell on the ring. A minor protection ring. Further inspection shows an inscription on the inside of the ring. The lettering is strange runes you have not encountered before.
A quick cast of comprehend languages, and the script shifts and changes before you. It reads:
Although the spell doesn't really give you intrigues int he language, you can sort of tell that the word 'envy' and the name 'Belimarius' are very similar to each other. A pun of sorts. It could read as 'envy protects you'.
Thaddeus talks out loud to Avariel.
"Hmm, Ah do believe this here be one o' them rings o' protection Ah've heard about. Minor enchantment, put in there with a Shield O' Faith, if Ah'm not mistaken."
"This here writin's kind o' odd. Don't rightly know the language, but it do say 'Bell-ee-mar-e-us protects yeh."
"Bit o' pun here. From what Ah can see, Bell-ee-mar-e-us is kind o' similar to 'envy.' Fancy wordplay, Ah take it."
Fiona readies her earthbreaker. "Good."
She motions for Mutt to go first.
Avariel blinks as you look over the ring and cast a couple of minor enchantments.
"Wait, you picked up the pun on the ring? Well that's something. I'd complain about the accent but you need to hear the locals speak. Ugh. That ring is quite ancient, if unremarkable. I'll take it back, thank you."
Avariel grabs the ring and looks you over some more. "The Cyphermages are dedicated to the study of the Cyphergate, and Thassilonian runes in general. The ring is newer than the fall of the empire, likely a cult that rose up around the final Runelord of Abjuration and Envy: Belimarius. The comprehend languages spell is a good sign of your talent. Well cast. Tell me of what brings you here. I can't guarantee you an apprenticeship, but I may have a job for you that would put you in our good graces."
"Well, Avariel, Ah was always smarter than' most in mah hometown, but there ain't much opportunity to learn in a quiet lil' farmin' community, as yeh may 'ave gathered. So's Ah set out to learn more. Heard about you Cyphermages, and felt this was as good o' place to start as any."
"Got a job? Well, lil' hard work never killed nobody. 'Course depends on what th'job is. But Ah'll do mah darndest."
Thaddeus makes a mental note of Thassilonia, or whatever this 'empire' was called, as well as what a 'Runelord' is. Some things to study in the future.
Mutt readies his greataxe and nods at Fiona. He moves behind Variel and says, "Get ready to open the door. I'm charging in." When (or if) Variel opens the door, Mutt charges in and swings his weapon down on the guard.
As they wait outside the door, Bofur checks that the bolt is set in his bow and readies it. Once Mutt goes rushing in, Bofur picks another target and fires.
He rapidly reloads his crossbow without a word.
Variel opens the door and the guard looks up in a panic. He starts fumbling for his club, but Mutt rushes in like a force of nature, and with one clean sweep sends the thug's head flying hard against the wall.
thonk
End of Combat
Thanks to Mutt's ferocity, it appears the guard has not raised the alarm yet. The top floor of the mission is just empty hallways, leading in various directions.
You hear the clatter of nails and loud panting coming down from the northernmost hallway. Sounds like a dog.
Avariel makes a tch sound and then shrugs.
"This is Riddleport. You may have to. There are bad people here. One moment."
He kicks out a foot, closing the door.
"I have a theory. My Mistress to whom I am apprenticed is not interested in this theory, and considering the never-ending parade of people coming up here, I can't investigate it personally. See, there's a gambling hall called the Gold Goblin. It's run by an apparently reformed criminal overlord called Saul Vancaskerkin. You can't miss him, giant key for a hand.
"I think he's connected in some way to the Blot. I've heard... rumours of dealing with some strange entity. Maybe extraplanar. He has a pet imp after all. Or he could be some unknowing patsy. But I feel something about that casino. I also know that Saul has recently hired a crew of 'partners' who by all accounts are a talented bunch with good souls. And finally, he doesn't have a good arcane caster in his employ, not full time. Samaritha is another applicant for our order who works there, but she's part time."
Avariel spreads his hands to you.
"I want you to get a job with Saul. Join up with his 'partners' - your magical talent should get you in. Work for him, and find out what's going on there. It may take a while. I'm not fantastically wealthy but I'll pay you thirty gold to just take the job, and then five a week. Plus you can get my Cyphermage discount on scrolls."
He points a finger at you.
"What this gets you is steady employment, and you could be a part of something far larger here. The Blot is the greatest magical mystery any of us have encountered. You came to this awful city to learn. This is your chance. What do you say, Thaddeus?"
Variel blinks as Mutt charges in, dispatching the guard in one swing. Quietly, he says, "Well, that makes that a little easier."
The elf moves in, listening carefully at the doors, trying to determine where their quarry might be.
The aftermath of Mutt's assault has left Fiona speechless. "...oh my."
one clean sweep sends the thug's head flying hard against the wall.
Throughout the process, Thaddeus was nervous. He proved he could cast spells, but he was worried that they'd ask how he learned to do so. That secret of how he learned to weave magic scared him. Making deals with mysterious otherworldly forces for power is the sort of thing parents and pastors tell their children to warn them away from quick routes to power. And here he was, trying to pretend to be a wizard and hoping nobody asks or looks too closely. Could they tell the difference by the way he casts spells? Would they even care? Maybe they don't, maybe magic is magic. He doesn't know. And he's afraid to find out.
Thaddeus listens as Avariel explains his theory, shuddering a little at mention of Saul making deals with extraplanar entities.
His eyes widen at the mention of thirty gold for pay. Was that considered 'not much?' around here? Thaddeus was already swimming in more gold than he had ever seen in his life since he used that slumber hex on those bullies that turned out to be wanted criminals. And now, getting paid to go get a job, and get paid some more? What would he do with all this money?
"Well, Avariel, looks like yeh got's yerself a lil' situation here. Not sure Ah'm the best man for, ehh, whatzat word, sub-ter-fuge... But if'n y'think Ah can help, Ah'm a willin' to try."
"Any chance Ah could c'mere durin' mah off-times to go through yer library? Ah mean, y'do have a library, right? Or where's another library in 'dis town?"