"Peace, King Tahk, peace. Despite his lack of polish my brother only insults and accuses in response to your threats and accusations. You accused him of lying after sharing with you perhaps the most valuable information I have been able to dig up through my contacts. He is only mirroring your own suspicion.
We are people of business. If I did not see a path forward then we would cut our losses and leave.
However, Villichi's strength is also his weakness. He believes himself unstoppable and thus will not flee when we gain the upper hand. Thus he will not flee as would be wise, but trust to his regeneration and our presumed ignorance.
Nothing has changed about our prospects. You clearly believe we have some chance of defeating Villichi. You should trust us more in that we will not be satisfied with merely killing him, but also getting rid of him. We know his weakness. That should make you trust us more."
"Villichi's power is built on fear. He's gotten as far as he has because people are too afraid to oppose him. Unkillable or not, he's still just one crazy man. I refuse to believe that the River King's gunna be cowed by one man. He was defeated in Xilres and he had the mad king on his side. He can be defeated here too. Besides, we've got Quint backin' us. He once took on the soddin' Andril navy just to filch a ship full of drider silk."
"That's just economic sense. Drider silk is unbelievably expensive."
Tahk begins pacing away from the party. "Oh I am a very easily cowed man. I take no pride in bravado. After hearing how you smashed some of Villichi's strongest men through a table with your bare hands, Quint barely managed to convince me to come tonight." He laughs, some of his tension clearly relieved at the jokes. "Oh Quint, even in your old age the stories never cease."
Quint grins. "Well it wasn't the whole navy, but damned if it wasn't a dozen well-armed ships. And I had some help from the locals." He sits back down on one of the crates. "Far as the new whore, way I heard it is that she used ta be a slave 'fore Akropash got blown all ta hell. She's trying ta escape some old slavers and came here to start a new life, but she never knew much but whoring and fighting."
Tahk chuckles, then turns serious again. He takes a deep breath, then nods. "Alright, I can't pretend times haven't been rough with Villichi around. Security has always been a big issue for me, but he's running my nerves ragged. The cult of Norgorber is very small here in Grastle Hollow, but it is run by a very capable man who goes by the name of Sveng. I have reason to believe that's not his real name, but it's what everybody calls him by. The man is cruelly pragmatic, cold as ice. But can always see reason. He was in charge of the raid on the Rainbow Barrel last night. I wasn't told the details about where they were going, but I was a contingency plan in case any of his men got left behind; I was to harbor them until he came back to retrieve them. No men ever came, from what I've heard they're either back with Villichi or dead or arrested."
"But that leads to my second point. Villichi deals in a lot of places. According to the people that squeal on him, he has over two dozen different bases of operations in and under the city. He moves around constantly. It's not really a matter of finding where he stays, it's a matter of finding where he's going. But from what I've heard he has a favorite spot, called the Moonlight Terrace. It's connected to an underground subsystem that hasn't been used in years, and the main cave of it is a huge room that has windows open to the waterfalls west of Grastle Hollow, but is magically concealed. If you go to the main government building and head due west past the waterfalls and into the mountain, you're sure to hit the tunnels. Easiest way to get there is magic, but if you can't do that you'll either need to travel underground or find an airship. I don't know what kind of magic you have access to, but an airship would be about as subtle as a brick to the front door, and the underground is heavily controlled by Villichi. You couldn't get within five miles of the Terrace without one of his men spotting you."
Quint stands with a murderous grin. "That's all we need. I have a man who can guide us through the underground. I say we go grab our weapons and kick down his f#~#in' door, killin' anybody that gets in our way."
"The underground is good but I wouldn't mind hearing about those airships", Ragnar says. "Maybe later after this business with Villichi is done."
"I'd be happy to give you some people to talk to, but it's hardly necessary to go through nefarious channels such as me to get an airship. Unless you plan on stealing one that is." He asks curiously.
"I'm not planning to steal anything but I'm not lookin' to buy an airship either. I had some custom work in mind..."
"We'll need a little time to prep and call in reinforcements", Ragnar adds. "That should give you time to get your guide on board. Meet at the Rainbow Barrel?"
"How did the Cult of Norgorber get caught up with Villichi? Was it merely because they function as a kind of thieves guide, and he was attempting to dominate the local underworld?"
Quint nods. "Aye. I'll need to stock up on ammo anyways."
Tahk nods. "That's about the extent of it. They've been here a lot longer than Villichi has, and their loyalties have been known to shift."
"I support going by the underground. I think Quint has the right idea, though Ragnar can is correct going in the morning would be wisest. Priests of evil gods usually renew their spells during the dusk. Us going in the morning might represent a small tactical advantage and give us time to prepare."
"If that concludes our business, it was a pleasure meeting you, King Tahk."
"It always is. And I don't say this to many of my customers, but good luck." With a bow and a flourish, Tahk drops something on the floor and there's a blinding flash. As the smoke clears, the River King is gone.
Quint shakes his head. "Damn theatrical man."
"Let's get back to the inn and get ready", Ragnar suggests with a pointed glance at Toramin.
"First our weapons and then the inn."
"What time should we meet you here tomorrow?"
Toramin relays the meeting to Drosil with all the exactitude of his gear-like mind. "What are your orders? Is this something you want to send us back up on or give us special orders?"
Back at the Rainbow Barrel, Quint hauls out the wooden crate and returns everybody's weapons. "Nightfall again."
"I thought we were giving Rilka time to work the situation."
"We have not been able to establish communication with her. We did get visual confirmation that she is alive and stripped of her gear except her hat of disguise. An odd thing for them to leave her. What is our best case scenario here? She could be in a coma or bespelled. She wouldn't wake up. Nor do we even know she will be at the Midnight Terrace. What we do know is the we have a viable location to confront Calios."
"Best case scenario is Rilka used this opportunity to get deep into Villichi's business. We can learn everything and set up a trap instead of going in like hot-heated youths."
It's more likely Calios ends up splashing in her blood like a child in a puddle, since by now it should be obvious that she isn't a legendary assassin.
Toramin agreed that is the best case scenario it just seems very, very unlikely to him. Poor Rilka, skilled though she may be, is rather unlucky for a halfling.
"Do you think that is especially likely? Like I said, it is quite possible that they have pierced her disguise. They could be pressing her hard. Do you have more certain information of her disposition? Are our orders to wait until she escapes on her own?"
"I have no orders, only advice."
"What we know of Villichi suggests he doesn't keep prisoners for long. Rilka is either dead or in." He says coldly.
Toramin thinks Drosil's response about not having orders is a pretty little lie. If we do nothing we will be blamed for lacking initiative. If we go in and fail, then will will be remembered as failures. Success is the only option with these people.
"Then what is your advice?"
"Keep trying to contact her. From a dark room, far away from where you sleep."
"As you say."
Toramin relays the gist of the conversation to the rest of the party. "He thinks we should wait for Rilka to escape herself. I find that terribly unlikely given her luck, but we should give her time to succeed. Master Dalton, would you like to attempt another Scry tomorrow in a dark room far from our inn? If we cannot establish contact, do you think we should go forward with our plan for assault."
Bjorkus nods in agreement with Toramin's suggestion. "We can use the rest of the day to follow up on some of Tahk's rumors. I wanna meet that whore from Akropash."
"My understanding is that Rilka was mistaken as this legendary assassin. I'll keep an ear to the ground about that, I suggest you do too."
Dalton was none too pleased with the amount of haggling it took for Tahk to come around, but in the end, it seemed the man had a shot of sense to him.
Drosil's ... "advice" though, burdening them with the final decisive direction, seemed to punt to the protection of the Aestherics more than their agent.
"His thinking be damned at the moment!" For some reason, the mage was easily incensed by the soft-spoken superior's suggestions. "Miss Featherfeet is in danger. She is either drugged, comatose, enchanted ... regardless, time is not working to the favor as far as her life is concerned right now. They would have us wait? Was it not the raid on the tavern where she was taken? The same raid we were supposed to have "support" from our backers? Oh yes, that turned out marvelously!"
His anger aired, the mage shook his head, taking on a stern though less aggressive tone. "Waiting did not help us before. It would not help us now. It WOULD, however, serve to protect their secrecy in case we were captured and information extracted. Tahk's advice in this situation comes to mind. Perhaps that's why they are not as interested in rescuing Miss Featherfeet at the moment; she did have trained preceding any of us with them, after all."
Dalton was visibly bothered by mentioning her being held, his eyes darting about, looking for a plan that wasn't there. "Unless Villichi has extremely strong protection, I can perform a short-range dimensional hop that should suffice to get us out of there. Getting in is my concern. If they know we are coming and we are heading into their enclosed spaces, I can't see it ending well." He looked to Bjorkus and Toramin, then Tormain and Ianna. "This is no slight to your might, nor lack of faith in your prowess underground, but if they're entrenched and alert of us, I can't see there being much hope. We would have to pick a path they do not expect, or simply be unexpected."
He shook his head to the scry. "If they have her protected by sorceries, there is a substantial chance my dviniations could forfeit our position with each attempt. They may not succeed in the first place, taking an hour to gamble, and if I wished to put up countermeasures against their protections, I would have to expend twice the potent magical energy. This is energy that could be better used, I feel, to perform the infiltration on that day itself. I do need some of it to secure our exit."
"This is no easy task, but to do nothing? No."
In a quiet voice, Ianna adds, "I agree with Dalton, and not to belabor the issue but the nerve of our pirate allies might not hold if we wait."
There is a part of Toramin that wants to insist that they obey orders; however, the lack of orders are part of their present problem. He knows how to enforce military discipline. He does not know how to enforce discipline amongst friends. He does not even know if he wants to try.
He looks at Bjorkus, remembering his friend's suffering at the hands of Targ's torturer. He doubts that Calios has his own torturer. Why would he deny himself the personal pleasure?
In a sad voice he begins to speak.
"At this point, I have to wonder why we keep getting clandestine assignments from the Aestherics? This mission is obviously a test of how we handle subtly and the stress of undercover assignments after their training. Yet, it is a test we seem destined to fail.
After Xilres, after Akropash, one would think they have a better understanding of our strengths and weakness. We are not shadows nor daggers in the dark. We are the striking hammer, the battering fist, the roaring inferno.
This may not be to our credit.
Regardless of their protests, I think the Council of the Hand must know this truth of our natures. Which raises the question of why they keep putting us in these circumstances. It is not because they lack for resources and, much more willing, operatives.
Perhaps they value the confusion and upheaval our interventions cause.
Drosil councils patience, but refuses to give us orders. His best case is the best case, but he is either unwilling or unable to tell us how that might actually happen.
My heart urges me forward. Calios has murdered Gabriel. If he is going to murder Rilka, I want to stop him. If he has already murdered her, I want to reclaim her body and bring him to justice. That this would end our sojourn in this terrible city can only be a blessing. My reason searches for why my heart is wrong, but I do not see a better path forward."
Ianna's heart breaks at the pain in her brother's voice. Her self appointed task, as a sister, was to share with him the wisdom which the gods had not seen fit to grant him.
But I do not see the path of wisdom here. Acting merely to act is the height of folly. Yet, patience without knowledge is no virtue. Waiting merely for options to close is a type of cowardice. Grandmother might be able to see the best path forward, but I do not. Watchful Mother, protect your wayward children.
"Father Thriun told us this morning that the gnomes of Grastle Hollow once drove out the followers of the Gray Master. I will return to him in the morning to see if he has any advice on the matter. We should also invest in restraints for when we capture Calios."
Surprised at Toramin having more a dilemma about this than he, Dalton sought to assuage him of what doubts he had. "Toramin, your heart is not at all in the wrong place! It is what separates you from those Gray Goblins." Is it a conflict of failing a job? I'm suprised he takes the Aestheric mantle with such weight when his lineage alone seems more ponderous. "If anything, I hold mine accountable for whatever risk-ridden stratagem we develop for this intervention. Usually, I'm more calculating with the crises we've encountered."
He looked to Ianna. "It's a good thing your sister remains focused when passions are high! Those restrains would be a great place for me to start if we're moving forward with a rescue. I'll need to head around a few shops for the items."
"Passion is best kept in bedroom or for the writing of loving declarations. They get in the way when planning assaults on enemy strongholds," Ianna teases lightly.
She thought she might understand something of the pressures that Toramin is facing. Duty is a virtue taught to us from the cradle. Duty to family. Duty to clan. Duty to the Voices. Duty to the people. Duty -- to a dwarf of the central families -- is one of those clever nesting dolls: it built upon itself, layer by layer. Toramin's pathos is that he feels he has innately failed our family. To fail the Council of the Hand in the duty they had assigned to him must be like failing King Vorn who appointed him our ambassador. To fail King Vorn is to fail the Voices of the Stone. To fail that august body is to fail our clan. To fail our clan is to once again fail our family. He is wrong of course. He has never failed our family, but victims often blame themselves for their victimizer's abuse.
Thinking of her father, even obliquely, stirs her own passions and reminds her how blessed she is. My duties have always come so easily to me.
Toramin chuckles at the back and forth between Ianna and Master Dalton. But he lets out a full-throated laugh when Master Dalton referred to the Council of the Hand as "Grey Goblins."
In a less defeated tone of voice, "We should stick together when we travel about on our business tomorrow. First we return to the temple, then we visit the shops, before swinging by and letting Bjorkus get an eye of this prostitute. If tomorrow is our last day, then I would not want to deny him his pleasure. For now we should probably sleep."
Bjorkus groans unhappily. "Okay but Trudd help me if the priest insists on playin' another silly dice game."
"Tomorrow I think we will be more concerned about her aspect of stealth than her interests in gambling."
The next morning finds the erstwhile friends back at the temple of Nivi Rhombodazzle.
"I hope we are not being too active of community members, Father Thriun, but we would like spiritual guidance. May we speak to you privately?"
Once they are ensconced in his office, Ianna begins, "I believe we know where our friend may have been taken. I was curious if you knew how the Cult of Norgorber was driven out of Grastle Hollow before, and if you would pray for us that the Grey Polychrome might bless us with her stealth and luck."
Father Thriun shows them to a private audience once again.
"Their cult was driven out by the law. Infiltrated the underground, executed or exhiled. Of course, the Grey Polychrome is with you on any endeavor against Norgorber."
"Thank you, Father. Please remember us in your prayers."
Ianna will leave another offering before they exit. Goddess like Nivi would not above a little bribery.
Once their business with the priest is done, Bjorkus hits the streets for a while looking for information on the alleged prostitute from Akropash.
Bjorkus gets a few men at a bar to tell him of the oddly tough prostitute, who works at the Hearty Maiden. She works the weekdays, today of which is one.
"Let's go meet her. I'm curious if it's someone we know", Ragnar suggest.
Bjorkus waits until later in the day when it's more likely she's working, and heads over.
Inside the smoky atmosphere is filled with activity. Music floats through the air, coming from a pair of gnome bards in the corner. The lighting is sparse but the women are aplenty. As Bjorkus walks in and looks around for a bit, he eventually sees a woman that fits the description. A tanned woman with an athletic body and hair cropped short. She has almond eyes, and her revealing clothing shows a few scars across her arms and back. She's currently on the lap of a boisterous, huge human who is dragging on a thick cigar at a table in the corner.
In a less defeated tone of voice, "We should stick together when we travel about on our business tomorrow. First we return to the temple, then we visit the shops, before swinging by and letting Bjorkus get an eye of this prostitute. If tomorrow is our last day, then I would not want to deny him his pleasure. For now we should probably sleep."
"How is it Bjorkus, in perhaps our toughest challenge yet, manages to make seeing a whore part of the mission?" Dalton shakes his head in good-spirited humor. "I suppose some things never change."
"Before I prepare my spells tomorrow, it would be good to know whether we intend to make Calios a prisoner that is brought back to town or a prisoner of his own environment. The latter would be more risky as it requires overpowering him initially and escorting him out, though it carries the added benefit of ease of transfer to the Aestherics - and proof of success to the town. The former is helpful because as long as we can create the prison around him, less dangerous combat may be necessary." Dalton wasn't doubting the power of his allies, but he was fearful of the power of his enemies. "To the point, I can either look into preparing to morph the stone of the stronghold into a containment chamber, or I can see about damaging Calios directly. The latter isn't my specialty so much, though the petrification tactic I suggested with the terrorist we encountered earlier might be useful."
"I suppose it's also viable I prepare more for our defenses. In any event, I am setting aside some incantations for our escape; I will not have any of us left this time behind when we depart." The mage was adamant about the last part; it was clear there was some guilt in him about Rilka's capture.
*******
After preparing spells selectively in the morning, the mage set out to the shops with the group. I suppose this is a necessary investment... The miser in Dalton was trumped by practicality.
"I think we will need to subdue him like we did Acera at the moment we "kill" him. Can you memorize a Shield spell for me to guard me in combat? Since he is an anti-paladin he will be resistant, but not immune to spells."
Still curious, Bjorkus orders a drink and watches the girls ply their wares. What's a girl from Akropash doin' all the way out here?