Suchak would relish a warm meal, a bath, and a soft bed.
Over dinner:
"We should get moving as soon as possible in the morning. I fear this scene may become too commonplace on the road ahead of us should we delay."
After about half a minute, you hear a shout from the stage area at the bottom of the Amphitheater. "Found him! Sir, I'm sorry!" you hear a woman's voice yell. Shortly afterwards, the team climbs to the top of the Amphitheater, carrying a limp, wet corpse between them. One of the men, his eyes downcast, explains, "It's Mayor Bresnik. I think the mob ran over him, 'cause his head's all bashed in. You won't want to look, Colbert."
I'd like the cloak if no one minds. Aught would look great with a comically small cloak on. Can anyone ID it?
Busy examining one of the yellow signs, it takes a few moments for Podrick to respond and look back to horn. "Hrm? Oh, a wand of devil's blood healing? I confess I possess one already, if you would prefer I hold and apply it t'would be my pleasure." He pockets it.
A few more moments of examining the yellow sign later, Podrick turns and casts his eye over the loot, front-right flipper waving in a practiced slice through the air. "What have we here..."
After the magical pedantry has been dealt with, Podrick recalls the constable. "Oh dear, do forgive me officer for not earlier commiserating on your los... ah, he's gone." Podrick's head shakes despondently. "Timing is still so rarely my forte... tsk."
He shrugs, and turns to Suchak. "Well fought, sir serpant, and to the rest of you; and I agree, we'd best be in bed lest more of... this." He looks around at the devastation, the blood and fleshy remains.. then he smiles. "Ah, what hideous powers there be in land like sea... and what wonderful purposes we may one day bend them to, that such things might never occur."
Another moment, another mod, a turn. "Travel and a fight; time to bed."
When requested, Podrick mutters an eerie note and taps Aught as many times as requested.
"Three taps will do me well, Mr. Podrick. I'll take care of the rest, thank you."
Aught nods in appreciation as many of his wounds heal. Once the wand's magic has ran it's course, and once he's tucked away from prying eyes, he removes his armor and tunic and sets down into a meditative rage. This time, the energy swirling around him seems to be soft, pastel colors. The stone bear lets out a low frequency throat-hum as the energy dances around him, further curing his wounds. Once he finishes meditating, he makes himself comfortable in the floor and immediately falls asleep, being sure to snore quite heavily.
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Podrick's magic eye detects a faint aura of evocation around the runes on the greataxe; it appears to hit harder than a mundane blade. The gnome's breastplate has a faint aura of abjuration, making it more resistive to physical assault. The amulet, an emerald set in the center with runes of transmutation carved into its gold casing, makes the wearer's skin tougher. The cloak has a moderate aura of transmutation but a vaguer enchantment, which seems to protect against a plethora of mental and physical afflictions. Lastly, the two potions provide moderate healing, and have a faint aura of conjuration.
After healing his comrades, Podrick leads them after the gnome Waehyra. On the walk down to the docks, the gnome now and then stops to call up to lights in windows, "The monsters are gone!" A few people respond in thanks, but most seem to be sleeping, or hiding, until the morning.
The Twenty-Hoof Inn, a large building upstream of the fishmarket and ferries, looks abandoned when you approach. There are no lights, and no sounds of wollipeds in the stable. But Waehyra knocks heavily on the giant-sized door, then shouts the news of the fight in the Square, and in a minute a light comes on. The door opens, and a short triaxian woman with umber skin and a blue-and-yellow suit ushers the group inside.
"I can put on a pot of stew or just roast a few woodhawks. Which would you rather?" the innkeeper asks. "You four can have your pick of the rooms - there's no one here but me and the cook."
"A st-stew? R-roast? Oh wow! Food is delightful!"
"The woodhawks would serve me nicely, if you please."
"Four braces of woodhawks it is, then," the innkeeper announces, yawning. "Waehyra, please tell to come down tomorrow morning - I'll need help with the washing." The gnome nods and bids the travelers farewell, returning uphill towards the city center.
After selecting their rooms (including a dragonkin-sized cubicle for Podrick), the group heads downstairs for a nighttime meal. The innkeeper, who introduces herself as "Geryt" as she delivers the platters of meat, washes up afterward and heads to bed. Suchak mentions plans to wake and leave early tomorrow, and you head off to bed. Aught finishes healing himself in his room.
In the morning, the group wakes around sunrise to begin preparing for the day. While Podrick goes over his spellbook, Horn meditates on the flow of natural energy in the river and the sky and the farmland on all sides, refreshing his daily spells. Aught and Suchak breakfast on huffaberry flatcakes and wolliped steaks (respectively).
A few minutes after Podrick and Horn complete their rituals, someone knocks on the door, and Geryt admits Constable Radcliff. The triaxian is wearing a plain tunic and leggings now, and his face is clean of blood and mud, but the hollows under his eyes seem even darker than before. He moves wearily, stumbling over the dark-patterned door rug, but still quickly spots the breakfasting heroes and makes his way to them.
"Greetings, travelers. The bodies have been disposed of, and we will begin cleaning today. The carpenters have already started work on the Town Hall," he says hoarsely, pulling out a chair. "I would like to thank you again for defeating those horrors. Without your help, they would have eventually overwhelmed us. So, since you said you were tracking the source of this chaos, I asked around town for news of suspicious activity. According to five different eyewitnesses, Sophia Lasilaran and her three friends left town just two nights ago, right after the madness started. (She was the one who put on the play in the Amphitheater, the one Geoff went to.) Those four headed south on the Soapdell Road, using some sort of magic disk to carry all their props. They weren't in any hurry, it seemed like, but it's just a day's walk or so down to Indar from here."
Horn, back in his triaxian form -- swollen, dark-red birthmark covering much of the right side of his face -- answers the constable. "Thank you for that lead. We should take off after them right away.
"...And constable, I'm...very sorry that we weren't able to save your mayor."
Equipped in his armor and new comically undersized cloak, Aught follows Horn's lead and apologizes for the losses the town has suffered.
Radcliff lays a hand of Horn's shoulder. "I'll be fine. You four have more important things to worry about, I think. Just . . . stop this from happening again, would you?" he asks. As he pushes his chair back out, he excuses himself, saying, "I had better get back to the Square. I hope to see you again, Horn of the Ghoan Plains, Podrick of Mudsedge, Suchak Iskal, and Aught the Winter Guard."
Geryt packs a sack of kuyl flatbread, smoked fish, and dried wormberries for those wanting a lunch, and then the four of you set off down the Soapdell Road, which runs along the eastern side of the Rime River. The clouds are a washed-out white around the sun, and they hang grey over the plains for as far as the eye can see.
You make steady progress through the farmland. Unlike those between Forestdal and Hallowfeld, the farms here seem well-populated; wollipeds range on verdant pastures, harvesters pick estak from small shrubs, and folk on ladders spray sere oil on orchards of setam'rof fruit. A few stop to stare, but this close to the big city the sight of poet-whales and sky-priests (and stranger creatures) is quite commonplace.
Indar itself is a port city, a busy trading hub that serves as an anchor for dozens of merchant houses and traders. Religion is also a strong facet of the city, with a “temple quarter” featuring no less than a dozen different churches and cathedrals to a wide array of deities. Yet Indar's greatest claim to fame is its entertainment – to many in Aylok, Indar is known as the City of Wonders. Indar's taverns and bakeries boast some of the tastiest meals in the kingdom, the museums are vast and cover many themes, and it seems that every weekend brings some new festival or parade to the sparkling city streets, to say nothing of Indar's wealth of opera houses, playhouses, and theaters.
As you arrive in town around midafternoon, you quickly notice numerous fliers posted on lampposts, tavern doors, and fences. They are very similar to the one Suchak found in Lamid, going even so far as to claim Indar as the location for the play's "premiere." The only differences are that the play's starting time is about an hour ago, and the location is the Legion Playhouse.
Entering the mercantile districts, you notice no disruption in the relatively peaceful city life. Parents walk with their children, merchants ride by in coaches, and the odd street-seller hawks iced beverages and cooled fruit, and no one is screaming or building barricades. But in the weak afternoon sun and humid bay-side air, you suspect that can only last for so long.
"I've always wanted to come to Indar. I just wish it were under better circumstances."
Upon catching sight of the fliers, Suchak turns a little green.
"The play started an hour ago! We must hurry! I know the way to the Legion Playhouse. If we get separated, it's on teh corner of Ramisof and Syldana. Big statue of a warrior on a dragonkin. Cant miss it. and with that, he runs off, teleporting ahead whenever a crowd of people or something would get in the way.
"Ah, civilization... for all the charms of the countryside, rurality has existed for thousands of years and always will, barring demon apocalypse; yet every great city is fleeting and unique." Podrick sighs for a moment dreamily before shaking his head.
"Job at hand! Job at hand. What Suchak said! After him, to the Playhouse!"
Podrick leads the group there as quickly as possible.
Horn-the-red-winged-pterojakk flies ahead, over the crowds, attempting to keep apace with Suchak while looking from above to see what is happening over by the Playhouse.
Horn flies above the shops and studios. He spots the statue in the city center, and sees a tall, sharply sloping roof behind it that can only be the playhouse Suchak described. There does not seem to be anything amiss around it.
The afternoon crowds are sparse - most folk are working at this time, and those that aren't lounge about outside and indoors, torpid from the muggy air. Suchak rarely needs to flash-step to keep moving, and Aught finds he and Podrick quickly clear crowds with their formidable size. The group makes quick progress, arriving at their destination about five minutes of hustled movement later.
The Legion Playhouse is a large wood and brick building located in the city center. Its tall, ornate roof looms over dark alleys, its facade giving it the feel of a place of worship rather than a theater. The statue of Commander Soapdell and her bonded mount Pinxhes (as the inscription reads) dominates the avenue, rising almost forty feet in height.
Examining the building, you find no windows. There are, however, two entrances (both closed): A side door in an alleyway, and the front double doors on Ramisof Avenue. Looking up and down the street as you approach, you notice only a group of wizened winterborn heading into a woodcarving shop.
Podrick frowns and drums his flipper against his weighty neck. "Friends.. how to proceed? Directly? I can teleport all of us straight into the center of everything. Indirectly? I can cover one of us in Invisibility while they recon...What shall we do?"
"I think reconaissance is probably our best bet. I can be quite stealthy when the need arises. With your spell combined with my natural ability, and a certain power I haven't shown yet, I should be able to get in there without anyone noticing. Getting out, however, will be harder if I get caught."
Speaking in a high, raspy, avian voice, Horn-the-red-winged-pterojakk says "I am fine with that...but do we have a way to know if you're in danger? If not I might suggest we accept the risk of going in without reconnaissance over the risk of you facing something like we just faced yesterday by yourself."
"If things go sour I think I can survive long enough to escape. Given a moment, I can Ghostwalk back out, as I did to go in, and have several ways of avoiding attacks directed against me without suffering harm."
He looks towards each of his companions And finally breaks his silence. "Sir Suchak, I trust in your abilities. You've shown nothing but confidence and grace in your skills. I only hope that it isn't too late to save them....". The look on Aught's face couldn't be any more grim.
"What we saw in Lamid was a nightmare. I can't imagine the kind of chaos this could cause in a city of this size..."
While Suchak warps inside and Aught and/or Podrick question the Winterborn, Horn-the-pterojakk will fly the perimeter of the building, listening at each door and window.
Suchak (with Pod's help" turns invisible and phases through the wall, looking for a good vantage point. Just before he disappears, his eyes glow blue, allowing him to see the unseen.
Podrick nods and mutters a few notes, shrouding Suchak in concealment magics. "Onward to recon, then."
Podrick waves his flipper over Suchak, masking the sky-priest from sight. Suchak walks forward and through the thick stone wall, his invisible flesh turning to nothingness as he moves.
Seeing no one in the foyer, you pass through the second wall to enter the main theater. This large chamber has a gently sloping floor, allowing those seated in the rows an excellent view of the stage area to the north. The audience sits raptly, a full house of silence as all eyes remain fixated on the performance on the stage.
The stage itself has been decorated to resemble a great throne room. At stage center is a looming throne of what looks like sickening yellow-green stone gilt with gold runes, some of which seem to writhe and twitch. A colonnade of pillars rises behind the throne, beyond which is an amazingly realistic backdrop that looks out over an alien city of spires and domes. The dark waters of a lake dominate the horizon, and strange moons glow in the skies above.
On stage, four figures are visible. Their voices echo off the walls in a strangely hypnotic cadence. On the throne is seated what must be the titular king in the play, a figure dressed in tattered yellow robes that conceal the actor's face and body completely. They watch quietly as they gaze upon a figure seated before them, perhaps a prisoner. This elven actor is androgynously handsome, wears a form-fitting suit of chainmail, and wields a long whip made of what looks like a braided length of her own hair that ends in a cruel razor-edged hook. To either side of the throne stand the remaining two actors. One is a lean, muscled man with an expression of contempt on his chiseled features. He wears a chain shirt and holds a scimitar before him.
The fourth figure wears a yellow-green robe and revealing clothes. In her hands, she wields a long, gnarled quarterstaff, and her face is hidden behind a feminine porcelain mask, the brow of which bears the all-too-familiar Yellow Sign. Although she wears a mask, her voice is clear, and the lips on the mask seem to move to match her words.
“Strange is the night where black stars rise, and strange moons circle through the skies, but stranger still is Lost Carcosa!”
You feel a strange shiver run down your spine, but it seems to quickly pass. With a chance to look around, you note four young triaxians (dressed in red uniforms with a stylized dragonkin head on the chest) at the back of the room with you, who must have come in from the foyer to watch the play. Even after you take on material form, not a soul in the theater seems to notice you.
As Suchak steps into the building, Aught begins plodding off west to investigate the aged triaxians. Podrick waits in the street away from the playhouse, while Horn swoops around the corner of the great red edifice to listen at the side door.
Suchak shudders again.
I must hurry back to the others. Before this play warps my mind along with these people's.
Suchak spends a moment recovering his Ghostwalk, and then flees as quickly as possible using it.
Reaching the woodwork shop, Aught courteously knocks and waits for a reply from the winterborn Triaxians.
"Hello? I'm sorry to bother, but I have a few questions to ask you! It'll only take a minute!"
His courteous and curious manner changes to one of concern. He knocks harder, enough to rattle the door with every rap.
"I am Aught, Winter Guard of the Keepers. I have questions concerning strange happenings. Please open this door!"
Within a few seconds, Suchak warps back through the wall, coming into sight of Podrick (and Aught, should the latter look back as he runs).
Horn, meanwhile, reaches the side door. Listening as he passes, he is able to hear the sound of a woman's voice, heavily muffled through one or more doors.
A small jolt of unease passes through you, but you shake it off. The woman speaks loudly, and you guess she is one of the performers.
"Carcosa, by the Lake of Hali; Carcosa, city of whispers and spires! There he dwells - the King in Yellow!"
As you fly around the wall, you can hear other voices uttering garbled, unintelligible syllables; you are unable to comprehend their meaning, if there is any.
Aught plods up to the shop and knocks on the door. It is quickly opened, and the group of old winterborn, along with a younger triaxian in a leather apron, look to the Keeper in surprise. The man who opened the door, who is wearing a tightly-tailored gray-and-green suit that seems to exaggerate his gaunt frame to the point of emaciation, squints up at Aught with suspicion. "What d'you want?"
"We need to move fast. The play is underway, and the words of it carry some sort of foul magic. I could feel it crawling across my brain, like spiders looking for a crack in my armor." he shudders again.
"Those people in there aren't yet transformed, but they are enthralled. We have time to save them...I just don't know how much time."
Taken aback by the triaxian's attitude, Aught quickly rushes through his questions while he nervously grips at the hilt of his hammer on his side.
"Are you familiar with the performance at the theatre? Do you know of any alternate ways of entering? Why are you wearing such a nice suit in a woodcarving shop?"
"Dimension door! Shock, speed and impact! Is there a clear space, or one unobserved? Or shall we make our preparations then directly enter the field of battle?"
"The lobby is empty. The theater itself is packed, and I think the stage is too crowded for us to appear on."
The white-furred man curses. "Pxh! Of course I know about Sophia Lasilaran's newest, most accomplished work! We tried to get in to see it but the hell-born attendants wouldn't let in anyone who didn't have a ticket. I was willing to pay extra, too . . ."
One of the old women further into the shop lays a hand on the man's shoulder and addresses Aught, inclining her head. "Don't pay heed to him, esteemed one. We tried to get in, yes, but the attendants were checking tickets and the theater was already quite full. So we've been shopping!"
"My apologies. Count yourself lucky. We've been following her and her troupe and it seems the performance is life changing, to say the least. Uh, maybe you'll see what I mean in a little bit...welp wouldyoujustlookatthetime! I gotta go!"
The Keeper awkwardly runs away from the triaxians back to his travel companions and fills them in on what he's learned.
"Of course it's life-changing! Her plays are marvelous!" the man yells after Aught. He slams the door closed again.
"What is our plan of attack?"
"Podrick's offer to dimension door us in sounds good. Podrick, do you have a means to create magical silence? I wonder if that would break the spell on those entranced.
"For that matter, when I listened at the side door I could feel the pull of the enchantment myself. Should we attempt to clog our own ears before we go in, to see if that protects us?
"Another option: Give me six seconds and I can summon a Satyr. perhaps we can fight enchantment with enchantment--getting the audience to get up and walk out...although I'm also tempted to summon something that can't be effected by such magics, like an elemental.
"Thoughts?"
"I can bring us with me, and no more; summon a Satyr and it'll be left outside to sproink its way confusedly through the market. And my spells of silencing were not prepared today."
Reaching into his pack, Podrick pulls out four sets of earplugs and tosses them to everyone. "These should suffice, no?"
"As for other preparations... I shall hasten our movements before we enter, and that is all I can proffer."
"I think the Dimension Door is a wise plan. We go in hard and fast, striking like an adder before they know what has hit them. Perhaps with any luck they will be so surprised they'll end whatever thrall they have over the audience befor eany permanent harm is done."
As Aught returns, Podrick passes out the ear-plugs and sings a song of hastening, while Suchak prepares his poison. Aught strengthens his muscles with a flash of light, then links hands with the group as Podrick transports them silently into the foyer. The room is dark, but you can see a faint glow coming through the heavy black curtains to the north, northwest, and northeast. You can also hear voices beyond the curtains.
Suchak teleports up to the rafters using his Fading Leap.
Staying well behind the others, Horn-the-crimson-flier begins screeching out a spell from his homeland, beginning to call allies for the coming conflict.
As the pterojakk moves his wings through spell-motions, Suchak concentrates on a space above the seats and teleports into the rafters. He can see that the performers have shuffled around a bit, though the woman in the pale mask still addresses the crowd, saying, "Carcosa will come to this city, and the King in Yellow will rule the whisperings of what remain." The king-like figure, robed in tattered yellow, seems to have left its throne and diverged into six separate copies of its form.
As Podrick regains his breath after the difficult spell, Aught moves towards the curtain, preparing to open it and locate the spellcasters.
The robed one's heads swivel towards the main entrance. It rises upwards thirty feet above the stage, and seems to be waiting for something.