Mr. K points a wand at the assassin and the wand shoots out a cone of sparkling matter, coating the assassin.
Hawthorne moves up and brings his glaive to bear on the assassin. The pole arm slices down the length of the Red Mantis.
The assassin slashes out at Noble with his sabre, but he sword thrusts are weak and slow, missing the half-orc. The assassin then steps back from the group.
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On the off chance the assassin is still standing Mr. K will force missle him. [dice1d4+4[/dice]
If the assassin is down Mr. K will instead instruct his servant to stabilize him.
Assuming the assassin is down, Mr. K will nonchalantly mention "perhaps we may wish to keep this one alive for questioning."
Noble unleashes a series of crushing blows on the assassin. The Red Mantis's body crumples and falls to the ground as Noble continues to pummel the unconscious form as it descends.
Hawthorne searches the body and finds, a +2 mithral shirt, a +2 sawtooth sabre, an amulet of natural armor +1, a cloak of resistance +2, a mask of the mantis, a ring of protection +1, and a cipher stone ring
After the last battle, it appears there is nothing left to do in the Hideout.
As the party stands over the body of the dead assassin, his body begins to dissipate into a red mist, hanging in the air. Slowly his body disappears, leaving only the red mist.
The party gathers there thing and heads back to Torch's safehouse in the Petal District. They pass over several of their fallen foes, one of whom, seems to still be living.
Bringing the assassin back to consciousness, Mr K. finds that the assassins did not know Torch's true name.
Noble ponders the name of the devil responsible for the downfall of the collage. In a flash of insight, he remebers the piece of paper found in the cage. He then tries to remeber what K said it read-“Release me Nehemalis, Holder of the Dark Key, and I will fulfill my pledge to you, even if it means the end of all we have built here.”
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Hawthorne watches the mist rise with great interest, even going so far as to open and drink one of the potions found before and quickly trying to capture some of the mist within the potion bottle.
After securing that away, he turns to the assassin Mr. K has reawakened and inquiries about whom the Mantises are targeting in certain cities about the Inner Sea -- Almas, Egorian, Katheer, Oppara, and Sothis.
Hawthore quickly captures some of the red mist in an empty vial and stoppers it. Kneeling down, he questions the barely living assassin. The assassin voice is barely audible as he strains to speak. As he finishes relating what he knows, he falls back to the ground, dead.
Having done all they set out to accomplish, the party returns to Absalom. Entering the Petal District, they enter Torch's villa to find him sitting in his omnipresent bathtub as servant pour cool liquid on his cursed sores. He smiles as you enter. Well? What did you find out?
At Mr K's mention of the note, Torch suddenly grows somber. He steps out the bath and throws on a robe before going over to a cabinet and removing a candle. "Do you know what this is? Well it's a candle of truth, when lit, I can't tell a deception. Doing so well on the relics, I am sure you can tell this is genuine." He lights the candle from a nearby brazier and sits a table, setting the candle down next to him.
What do you want to know? He takes a deep breath and let's it out. I'll start you off. A long time ago, I used to be a Pathfinder just like you. Decades ago, before Osirion's borders were open, I was sent on a mission for the Ten. I was in a group called the Scarab Seekers. During the mission, my companions were killed and I was critically injured by a deadly curse." He gestures to his famed burn scars that will not heal. However, rather than extract and help me, the Decemvirate instead disavowed that I was even a member of their Society. The Decemvirate could not afford to have Osirion’s royal family discover that the Pathfinders had violated Osirion’s borders and raided its historical birthright." He clenches his fist in anger.
"Left for dead. He shakes his head. "Well I made it out of there and managed to get back to Absalom, where I took on the name of Torch and began to assemble my information network. Over the years that followed, I gradually came to discover that there were actually many within the Pathfinder Society who, like him, were secretly offended by the callous disregard the Decemvirate continually demonstrated for ordinary Pathfinders, even those who risked their lives again and again in their work for the Society. So I reached out to them.
He pauses to take a drink from a tankard sitting on the table, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm. "Before I even knew it was happening, I had formed a secret cell within the Society, the Shadow Lodge. The Shadow Lodge, however, quickly took on a life of its own. It began to attract the ambitious and the greedy. The initiative finally flew out of control when several ambitious and unsavory members took it upon themselves to openly strike a blow at the Pathfinder Society." He face takes on a genuine sorrowful look as he continues.
"I tried to reign in the Shadow Lodge, but quickly found I was too late. The leader of the internal rebellion, a mysterious person called the Spider, opposed me. The true identity of the Spider is a mystery that even I have not unraveled, a fact that infuriates the me." He pounds the table with his fist, causing thae tankard to spill some of it's contents. "By this time, the Spider was hell bent on accomplishing a complete coup of the Pathfinder Society and frustrated by my unwillingness to act. The Spider threatened that if I continued to stand in the way of progress, I would be eliminated." He shkaes his head in astonishment.
"That's when I went to the Ten and offered a deal. I told them I thought that the Spider had hired the Red Mantis. If they agreed to help me, I would do everything in my power to bring the Shadow Lodge back into the fold of the Society. The Ten conceded that I "might" have point about the treatment of our agents." He rolls his eyes at his last statement. I asked that my history remain secret from fear that the Pathfinders enthusiasm, your enthusiasm, for protecting me might compromise the mission."
He shrugs. "That's everything. If you don't believe me, go read Volume 38 of Chronicles. The agent named Ven Lorovox...that's me.
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Hawthorne nods. Of course your presence deep within Osirion would be disavowed. The Osirioni royal family never forgets a slight, no matter how mundane or inconsequential. Also, the fact that you managed to get out with your life is no minor miracle itself. I would not be surprised if that was orchestrated in some way to embarass the Decemvirate.
The half-elf falls silent then, lost in his own thoughts.