Evander drops his dagger and dashes forward on light feet, launching an attack at one of the Asmodeans with his rapier. His blow hits, but the Asmodean seems to mostly intact still.
Matiscio rushes forward with his exotic shield raised and ready to deflect any and all magic the devilish trio might throw at him. His attack hits, but the Asmodean still stands.
Gregor, eager to get distance between himself and Gilda, rushes up to the furthest Asmodean that looked like it couldn't act. Taking advantage of the moment of stunned silence, he rushes up and slashes at it with his sword. Setting himself up near the corner, he hopes to stop anyone before they try to make their escape. Gregor cuts deeply into the Asmodean’s side, but the woman still stands.
Gilda seeing the Asmodeans descend upon them, reveals her general opinion of such. "Aww, Asmodeans! Figures they're the one makin' the moaners!"
Seeing that Didiana has dealt with one, even if temporarily, Gilda focuses her ire on another. He falls to the effects of the shaman’s hex.
Didiana, seeing her more melee-oriented compatriots rushing in to take the Asmodeans head-on, readied another mental intrusion from afar. It had worked well the first time. The green Asmodean looks dazed just like the one before.
Red Asmodean unleashes a pair of blows on Evander. Both miss.
Green Asmodean is dazed from Didiana’s spell.
Blue Asmodean is dazed as well.
A pair of voices can be heard shouting from the others room. One says, “Hurry up, Azvernathi! It’d be nice if you’d actually help with the fight.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming,” the other says.
Yellow Asmodean comes around the corner from the other room and his face turns grim. He shouts toward the part of the room he came from, “The others are going to need healing! So make haste!”
Azvernathi has yet to make an appearance.
Matiscio adopts a punishing stance where, as the razor sharp extension of his madu bobs and weaves with the intent of creating space for a strike, his feet seek to connect with the more vulnerable bits of the Asmodeans: nose, mouth, temple, neck, knee and elbow.
Evander groans as another Asmodean comes around the corner. "This is getting annoying." He continues pressing his attack against the one he's been fighting.
Opportune Parry and Riposte
If the parry is successful, I don't take the damage, and I riposte.
AC 17, T 13, FF 14
HP 22/22
Inspiration 4/4
Panache 3/4
Extracts:
[ ] cure light wounds, [ ] longarm, [ ] shield
“The others are going to need healing! So make haste!”
"Healing?" Didiana replied, looking particularly ornery underneath her helmet. "Not even your god-fiend can undo what we're about to do to you!"
It was never too early to start terrorizing your opponents. After all, despite the aggressive assertion the armiger was more eager for answers than she was for death. She wanted at least one of these diabolists alive.
But in the interest of lending credence to the words, the sorcerer opted this time for physical destruction over mental subjugation. The arcane bolts careened through the air before striking their targets.
Gregor feels the pressure of time constraints, expecting them to have more reinforcements soon. He swings with haste, a clean slash, but with too little push behind it in his rush to ready another one.
Gilda cackles with glee as the man struggles under the effects of her ill fortune . She turns to taunt the next.
"Ha! Where'd ya guys learn to fight? A pre-school?"
Evander groans as another Asmodean comes around the corner. "This is getting annoying." He continues pressing his attack against the one he's been fighting. He hits again, but the red Asmodean remains standing.
Matiscio adopts a punishing stance where, as the razor sharp extension of his madu bobs and weaves with the intent of creating space for a strike, his feet seek to connect with the more vulnerable bits of the Asmodeans: nose, mouth, temple, neck, knee and elbow. Matiscio’s first strike connects with the Green Asmodean’s temple, the man’s eyes roll back into his skull, he collapses, and is dead before his head hits the ground. Matiscio’s second blow doesn’t hit its mark.
Gregor feels the pressure of time constraints, expecting them to have more reinforcements soon. He swings with haste, a clean slash, but with too little push behind it in his rush to ready another one. Still, Gregor’s expertise in dealing with humans proves sufficient to finish off the Blue Asmodean. Then he takes a step toward the yellow one.
Gilda cackles with glee as the man struggles under the effects of her ill fortune. She turns to taunt the next. "Ha! Where'd ya guys learn to fight? A pre-school?" The Yellow Asmodean proves to be more resilient to Gilda’s ire and merely spits in the shaman’s direction in reply.
Didiana, in the interest of lending credence to the words, opted this time for physical destruction over mental subjugation. The arcane bolts careened through the air before striking their targets. With only the Red and Yellow Asmodeans still alive, Didiana directs both bolts toward the injured red one. The man crumples to the ground, dead.
Yellow Asmodean growls at Gregor and sends a pair of blows in his direction. The ranger is easily able to dodge both blows.
Azvernathi, the one the Yellow Asmodean spoke of, appears out of thin air in the next room over. Or at least you assume this is Azvernathi. The man looks quite unhappy to be involved in combat. More noticeable, perhaps, is that there seem to be two of him occupying the same space. He says a few words under his breath and a weapon not unlike the heavy mace in the man’s hand materializes and swings toward Gregor but misses.
He stammers for a moment before saying, "These halls are off-limits save to government officials and members of the Asmodean church. You are to leave at once or face the consequences."
"Right", mutters the brawler under his breath after hearing the man state the obvious. He isn't quite convinced and moves up to help Gregor dispose of the last Asmodean novice, hoping to clear a path towards the priest.
Evander snorts at Azvernathi's declaration that they were ordered to leave before saying, "You say that like we're supposed to care."
Evander darts forward into the space left by Gregor and Matiscio before the final Asmodean Acolyte, then thrusts with his rapier.
I don't think I can parry the spiritual weapon, and I wouldn't be able to riposte it either.
Opportune Parry and Riposte
Parry unsuccessful, no riposte.
AC 17, T 13, FF 14
HP 22/22
Inspiration 4/4
Panache 3/4
Extracts:
[ ] cure light wounds, [ ] longarm, [ ] shield
Another magic missile, another notch in the belt that was her conscience. Didiana wasn't happy about it, but there was little choice in the matter. The Asmodeans had to go. It was either them or the Ravens. But what a frayed belt it was.
Gilda continues into the room to lay her own eyes on Azvernathi.
"A ghost weapon? Aww, I got somethin' real similar but better!"
After waving her hands for a moment, a ghostly apparition pops into existence next to the Asmodean, but instead of spectral mace, it appears as a giant, mangy semi-transparent rodent dangling in midair. The phantasmal rodent seems as shocked as everyone at its sudden apperance but quickly lashes out at Azvernathi in anger.
for
Gregor doesn't recognize the spell being cast, even after a floating ghostly weapon takes a swing at him. He tries instead to move away from the thing while moving into a tactical position. He tries to duck into a crouched spin to come up on the other side of the last of the Asmodeans. Without knowing who or what is swinging the weapon at him, he misjudges the spacing terribly, and almost runs into the last of the men.
He's actually able to use the momentum to his advantage, despite the horrendous attempt, to bring his sword right up into the man that remains.
Evander snorts at Azvernathi's declaration that they were ordered to leave before saying, "You say that like we're supposed to care." Evander darts forward into the space left by Gregor and Matiscio before the final Asmodean Acolyte, then thrusts with his rapier. His blade strikes true and does a decent amount of damage to the Asmodean.
Matiscio mutters, "Right,"under his breath after hearing the man state the obvious. He isn't quite convinced and moves up to help Gregor dispose of the last Asmodean novice, hoping to clear a path towards the priest. He fails to strike the Asmodean in yellow.
Gregor doesn't recognize the spell being cast, even after a floating ghostly weapon takes a swing at him. He tries instead to move away from the thing while moving into a tactical position. He tries to duck into a crouched spin to come up on the other side of the last of the Asmodeans. Without knowing who or what is swinging the weapon at him, he misjudges the spacing terribly, and almost runs into the last of the men. Despite his blunder, Gregor avoids the strike from the Asmodean. He's actually able to use the momentum to his advantage, despite the horrendous attempt, to bring his sword right up into the man that remains. The man nearly topples over from the swing, but somehow stays upright.
Gilda continues into the room to lay her own eyes on Azvernathi. "A ghost weapon? Aww, I got somethin' real similar but better!" After waving her hands for a moment, a ghostly apparition pops into existence next to the Asmodean, but instead of spectral mace, it appears as a giant, mangy semi-transparent rodent dangling in midair. The phantasmal rodent seems as shocked as everyone at its sudden appearance but quickly lashes out at Azvernathi in anger. The man looks quite disconcerted by the rat, but manages to avoid its spectral teeth.
Didiana positioned herself so as to get a better view of the Asmodean before slinging another mental scrambler at him before he could hurt anyone. The Asmodean shakes off the effects of the sorcerer’s spell.
Yellow Asmodean looks to be on the verge of collapse, but grits his teeth and says “For Asmodeus!” before swinging a fist at Gregor. His blow misses and a look of despair crosses his face as he collapses to the ground and dies.
Azvernathi frowns at all of you and shakes his head as he takes several steps away from you. “Oh my. Now you’ve gone and done it. As one of Asmodeus’s clergymen, it is my duty to see that you are punished for your deeds. You’ve brought this upon yourselves, I’m afraid.”
The man mutters a few more words and casts a spell at Gregor.
Azvernathi’s spiritual weapon swings at Gregor again and hits this time.
Gregor sees the man drop after his weak miss, only to get smacked by the glowing weapon he avoided before. Turning to the last of them, Azvernathi, he recognizes the spell only long enough to say, "Oh, shihhh..." before all his muscles tense so tight that they prevent him from even moving.
Evander sees Gregor freeze, affected by Azvernathi's spell. That isn't good. Evander moves forward to confront Azvernathi, saying "Well, that wasn't very friendly. You know, if you surrender, you'll probably live through this." He then thrusts his rapier at the Asmodean priest.
Opportune parry and riposte
If parry succeeds, no damage, and I riposte.
AC 17, T 13, FF 14
HP 22/22
Inspiration 4/4
Panache 3/4
Extracts:
[ ] cure light wounds, [ ] longarm, [ ] shield
Gilda's eyes bulge as she witnesses Gregor freeze in place.
"Augh! Quick! Stop him! He's zombifying..."
Gilda looks around and her allies as its clear her next thought is causing considerable consternation.
"Fal...? Jimmy Falcon?"
Bringing her focus back to Azvernathi, she concentrates her ire.
"Yer gonna pay for that, Asmody!"
Gilda chuckles as the disembodied rat squeaks before taking another bite at the priest.
for
A dash, a jump and a tumble and Matiscio finds himself in close combat with the priest. With Gregor being taken out of action by the priest's diabolical power, it is up to him and Evander to make sure the Asmodean goes down.
Didiana did not recognize the spells the 'clergyman' slung their way, and there was a fair bit of that going about. She didn't understand the magical mechanics behind Gilda's floating rat either, but then again most things the widow did left her confused. What the sorcerer did understand in terms of spells was that her friend Gregor was in a bit of a pickle. She did manage to see the ex-dottari's muscles seize, leaving him open for the spectral mace floating near him. Didiana rushed to his side in the hope of at least drawing the spell's attention away from him.
Once there the armiger sent a harsh glare towards the Asmodean and with it another attempt at subjugating his mind. She briefly considered simply attacking him, but couldn't help feel that the caster, surrounded as he was by both Evander, Matiscio and the bizarre rodent, was already at death's door. Perhaps that would prove presumptuous.
Evander sees Gregor freeze, affected by Azvernathi's spell. That isn't good. Evander moves forward to confront Azvernathi, saying "Well, that wasn't very friendly. You know, if you surrender, you'll probably live through this." He then thrusts his rapier at the Asmodean priest. His blow strikes true, dealing a sizable amount of damage to the cleric. Azvernathi yelps in pain.
Matiscio dashes, jumps, and tumbles to find himself in close combat with the priest. He barely manages to avoid an attack from the man in the process. With Gregor being taken out of action by the priest's diabolical power, it is up to him and Evander to make sure the Asmodean goes down. The brawler’s blow connects and a large welp develops on Azvernathi’s cheek from the hit.
Gregor sees the man drop after his weak miss, only to get smacked by the glowing weapon he avoided before. Turning to the last of them, Azvernathi, he recognizes the spell only long enough to say, "Oh, shihhh..." before all his muscles tense so tight that they prevent him from even moving.
Gilda eyes bulge as she witnesses Gregor freeze in place. "Augh! Quick! Stop him! He's zombifying..." Gilda looks around and her allies as its clear her next thought is causing considerable consternation. "Fal...? Jimmy Falcon?" Bringing her focus back to Azvernathi, she concentrates her ire. "Yer gonna pay for that, Asmody!" Gilda chuckles as the disembodied rat squeaks before taking another bite at the priest. As it turns out, the shaman speaks and chuckles quite truthfully. The man succumbs to the full effect of her hex and is also struck by her spectral rat. He appears bloodied and on the verge of collapse.
Didiana rushed to Gregor’s side in the hope of at least drawing the spell's attention away from him. Once there the armiger sent a harsh glare towards the Asmodean and with it another attempt at subjugating his mind. She briefly considered simply attacking him, but couldn't help feel that the caster, surrounded as he was by both Evander, Matiscio and the bizarre rodent, was already at death's door. Perhaps that would prove presumptuous. The man proves surprisingly resilient to Didiana’s spell and shakes off its effects, despite his bloodied state.
With blood seeping out of wounds from Evander, Matiscio, and Gilda’s spiritual rodent, Azvernathi doesn’t look long for this world. He drops his mace and falls to his knees. He clasps his hands and says, “Please! Please stop! Please don’t kill me! Please! I’ll tell you whatever you want to know as long as you don’t kill me! Please don’t kill me! I’ll leave Kintargo and never come back. Just please don’t kill me please!”
As the dust settles from the battle, Didiana and Gilda, being the closest to where the zombies fell, notice that two of them wore rings bearing a familiar signet. It’s none other than the signet of the Victocora family.
You’re also able to see the rest of this room and a bit of the room to the northeast. This room’s shelves and displays seem more akin to those one would find in a storefront than a museum. While the shelves are relatively empty, what rubbish remains on them further supports the conclusion that this was once some sort of shop. Four long tables in the middle of the room seem to have seen more recent use, their surfaces cluttered with papers and objects. The little you can see into the next room indicates it may have once been some sort of office area.
Evander places his rapier next to Azvernathi’s neck and says, ”Much better. Now, kindly remove all weapons from your person, and answer all our questions. First, what are you doing here?”
When the fighting seems over, Matiscio immediately rushes to Gregor to make sure he's okay, hoping the magic has lost its grip over him.
Gregor's stubbornness is more than the man's will over him, and as the team rushes to take the Asmodean down, he forces away the compulsion. Though he still feels the tension, he shakes loose the tightness with a few flexes of his shoulders and neck. "What's the matter 'priest', can't reconcile the kind of afterlife you'll have once you arrive in the realm of your god? Should have thought of that before you swore your life to his service."
Gilda takes a couple steps over to the groveling Asmodean.
"Ha! Ya changed yer tune real quick!"
She snaps her fingers and the spectral rodent disappears with a *pop* while she circles the shell of a man.
"Typical Asmodean... no problem sendin' a corpse at yer enemies, but not ready to.. hey! Speaking of..."
The shaman detours to the first of the fallen zombies and liberates the first of the Victocora rings.
"Where'd ya get these from, eh?"
Azvernathi obliges Evander’s request as quickly as he can. He drops the other mace at his side then holds his hands open wide to show he’s not holding anymore weapons.
“I’ll tell you everything I can as long as you let me go and let me keep my weapons. I’ll leave Kintargo and never return. I promise. Just please don’t kill me please.
“I was assigned to this post by high priest Corinstian Grivenner. They needed someone to handle picking up the pieces and cleaning up after the raid on the Sacred Order, so they assigned me. I was overseeing the redactors you slew. They were combing through the documents up here before they were to be sent to the Temple for cataloguing. There are others below, but I haven’t been given permission to go down there, though I don’t know why.”
Azvernathi cringes at Gregor’s words and says, “Please don’t kill me. I’m not ready to die. Please, I’m telling you what I know.”
At Gilda’s question, Azvernathi says, “They came from the Victocora estate. They were pulled out of the wreckage after the fire died down. I wasn’t involved with the fire. That was some of Thrune’s lackeys. Not me, I swear.”
The Asmodean priest quiets for a moment before his face brightens and he says, “Oh, did one of you people break in last night and try to sneak downstairs? She was a feisty one, but they managed to capture her. They brought her downstairs for Nox to deal with her.”
“If you’re looking to get downstairs, I can help you get down there. But you have to let me go. Er, please let me go. I can get you downstairs if you please let me go.”
Didiana's mind was going a mile a minute with all the new information the panicked priest was providing them with. So the Archivists had already been attacked. That was one valuable ally the Silver Ravens would have to do without. Not only that, but the Asmodean church was ransacking whatever archives the eponymous Irorans had left behind. Left behind somewhere 'downstairs', apparently. There could be valuable, not to mention dangerous, knowledge hidden there. The Irorans had no doubt sequestered it away for a reason; the brimstone priests getting a hold of it was bad news. That the lord-mayor's bodyguard herself was there too didn't make matters better. Things weren't looking swell.
Yet all of these concerns disappeared like dew before the sun at the sight of the charred signet rings. The sorcerer's mind couldn't room any other thoughts; they had to make way for the shock. This was them then. These two blackened corpses were Rexus's parents. The parents he had so fervently and naively hoped he could find alive and well. Here they were. Burnt to a crisp and zombiefied to serve as picket guards. The nobleman would be devastated.
And just as quickly as it had settled in, the shock was gone and replaced with righteous fury. She went up to the cowering Asmodean and ripped his infernal holy symbol from him. Without a word she then tossed the thing onto the nearest table and, with a growl of exertion, delivered an overhead swing with her mace onto the pentagram that shook the entire desk. Hopefully this left the damned priest helpless for now.
"Understand this," the armiger said, turning towards him. "Whatever tortures your god has in store for you, you deserve worse. I will pray to the god-fiend myself if it means more suffering for you."
"So tell us what we want to know before I send you on your march to Hell with two broken legs. How do we get downstairs?"
Azvernathi falls down into a fetal position at Didiana’s words. He visibly shakes as he says, without looking up, “Please don’t break my legs and please don’t kill me. I’ll only help you if you promise not to kill me. Please. I promise I’ll help you if you promise not to kill me. Just let me keep my weapons and I’ll leave Kintargo and Ravounel and never return.”
Didiana believes the man speaks truthfully. He seems far too afraid to lie to you. At the same time, he does seem firm in his resolve not to aid you unless you promise not to kill him and let him keep his weapons. He also seems sincere when he says he’ll leave Kintargo and Ravounel and never return. It does, in fact, seem like he knows how to get downstairs.
Evander looks at the others. He'd prefer not to kill someone who'd surrendered, especially if the end result was that he would leave and never come back. However, it wasn't his call to make unilaterally. He glances at each member of the group, looking for their yes or no.
Didiana answered the writer's unspoken question with a smoldering look of fury. Her grey eyes looked like two sharp pieces of flint underneath the helmet. The discovery of Rexus's parents made matters a fair bit more personal than usual. Even so, it was clear that reason hadn't entirely left the sorcerer. After all, 'restraint' was still a defining characteristic of hers.
Gregor sneers at the man. If it's one thing he has very little use for, it's a coward and a turncoat. "We need to discuss the terms of your surrender and subsequent release. That said, how can we trust the word of a man who turns tail on the very god he worships just to save his sorry skin? If a god, even an evil one, cannot rely on your devotion, how can we have faith you'll keep your end?"
He returns his weapons and clasps his arms behind his back as he strides back and forth while talking to the man. "We need the trick to getting downstairs. We will need to know the numbers and what all the contingent with Nox is comprised of. Also, we will need something that we can use to hold you to your word. Something personal. An object that others distinctly recognize as belonging to you. If you can deliver all three, I am willing to agree to those that choose to release you to leave Ravounel and never return on threat of punishment."
Gregor scrutinizes the expected responses carefully, trying to suss out the lie in any one of them.
"I’ll tell you everything I can as long as you let me go and let me keep my weapons.."
Gilda arches an eyebrow.
"Eh? Why? They valuable? You ain't exactly in a negotiatin' position... more a surrenderin' all yer stuff one!"
Gilda quickly scans the man's possessions for something valuable to serve as penance, particularly his weapons. Gilda smiled, unused to being in a position where she wielded so much power over someone who in turn wielded power of their own over the rank and file of Kintargo.
She glanced at Didiana, seeming to understand the red-headed sorceress a little better. Power over someone groveling felt strangely satisfying.
Azvernathi actually perks up a bit at Gregor’s words. He sits up again on his knees and replies, “I’m… I’m still devoted to my Lord Asmodeus. I may be… less courageous… than others, but my devotion is still true.”
When Gregor asks for a personal effect, the man looks down at the floor for a moment. He seems to be wracking his mind to think of something. A few seconds later he snaps his fingers and unclasps his breastplate before handing it to the ranger.
The priest says, “All Asmodean priests in Cheliax, or Ravounel, at least, are issued custom breastplates when they officially enter the ranks of the Church. If anyone with the Church were to get their hands on this, they’d be able to determine it belongs… belonged… to me. That should, I hope, be sufficient for your needs.”
As far as Gregor can tell, the man’s being genuine about the significance of the breastplate.
The man continues, “Now, assuming we’re agreed that you won’t kill me and will let me go with my weapons, I’ll tell you what I know. There’s a statue of Aroden in the hallway near a set of windows. You may have passed it on your way here. The pupil of a winged eye on the statue’s chest can be rotated. There are several tiny runes carved around the pupil’s circumference. A single divot on the upper edge of the iris points to one of these runes, which are the letters of the Azlanti language. The iris essentially functions as a combination lock. If you spell out ‘IRORI,’ the statue will slide to the northeast against the wall, revealing a circular flight of stairs leading down into the monastery. I haven’t been allowed down there, so I don’t know the layout of the monastery, just that it’s known as the Many-Steps Monastery.”
Gregor believes Azvernathi is telling the truth about how to get downstairs and about not having been down there himself.
Azvernathi finishes, “As for who and what you’ll face down there, I can only speak of who I’ve seen go downstairs. I’ve seen quite a few different individuals come and go, but most of them have come back up and haven’t returned. Of those that remain, I’ve seen ten redactors, like those you just fought a few moments ago. They also have an ogrekin with them. And, of course, there’s Nox. She has her pet hell hound, Mephiry, with her. She’s never let it out of her sight, as far as I know.”
Gregor believes Azvernathi speaks truthfully about the enemies below.
Gilda detects the man’s heavy mace as magical. He also seems to have some sort of scroll and a couple vials of water on him.
He notices Gilda casting her spell on him. He frowns and says, “Please. I’ve told you what you want to know. Part of my terms were that I get to keep my weapons. You’ve already taken my breastplate and destroyed my Asmodean symbol. I just want to keep my maces. Here…”
As the man stops talking, he reaches into his pockets and pulls out four onyx gems worth 30 gp each as well as 10 gp. He also pulls out the vials of water and the scroll.
“Have it all. The scroll is a scroll of dispel magic and the vials are unholy water. Use them however you see best. Now please, let me go. I’ve answered all your questions. Please…”
The man is once again reduced to whimpering. He actually looks quite pitiful considering how much of a pounding he took in the fight.
Now please, let me go. I’ve answered all your questions. Please...
"The woman. You mentioned a woman captured whilst breaking in here just yesterday. Who is she? Explain."
The armiger's tone was insistent and harsh. She found the theater of the interrogation easy with the Asmodean, given her very real dislike of the sniveling wretch, but plain impatience helped maintain the gruff demeanor too. The mystery someone who was apparently undergoing an interrogation of her own downstairs might represent some sort of consolation prize for the Silver Ravens. They'd come looking for an entire cult of Irorans, but perhaps this infiltrator would be of interest to the rebellion. At best they might find an unexpected ally, at worst an innocent to save.
Oh, who was she kidding? Didiana just wasn't that optimistic. The chick would probably turn out to be some sort of triple-spy for Thrune. Things could always get worse.
Gilda maintains crossed arms as Azvernathi continues to believe he operates from a negotiating position where he gets to keep his magical mace.
"Hon, I don't think yer gonna need a magic mace where yer running off to. Which is where, again?"
Gilda eyes the man, careful for any clue to where he might have planned to go if released.
The man looks surprised at Didiana’s question. “You don’t know her? I never got her name. She was shouting something about rescuing her master before they dragged her downstairs. That’s all I know.”
After Gilda asks her question, Azvernathi says, “I… I haven’t put much thought into yet. Probably either Nidal or the Chelish heartland. I hear they need all the help they can get what with the Glorious Reclamation and such. I won’t be coming back here, that’s for sure. But I do need my weapons for protection. I won’t be able to use my magic till I get another Asmodean symbol, so I at least need my maces.”
Gilda believes Azvernathi is telling the truth. He’s still not entirely sure where he’ll go, but he definitely has no plans to return to Kintargo or Ravounel if he’s allowed to leave.
"We ought to go down and save her!" Matiscio cries out the words. The lack of control indicates that whoever she is, she might mean something to him, and that he's more than just a little worried. After all, such emotional outcries are anything but Matiscio.
But, as the words do nothing but throw more questions at the feet of his companions, Matiscio is quick to elaborate. "I know who she is. Jaya. She used to be part of our group, those who trained and practiced under Master Jalpur. She ..." and he shook his head, trying to swallow down a pill he couldn't quite handle. "She wrote me before, telling me she had found out where they had taken Master Jalpur and that she had a way to get him out. That I need not worry."
Eyes glazed over and once more he repeated those blasted words. "Need not worry ..."
If anything, the repeat brought the brawler back into the here and now like a firm slap in the face, causing him to adopt a more energetic stance: one that screams for a want for action.
Really, Matiscio? You're going to blurt that out now, in front of this guy? Evander thinks. This had not been the time for him to do so.
With the group consensus, Evander says, "Alright, here's what we're going to do. First, you'll show us how to open the secret passage. Then, we'll leave you in that room," here Evander indicates the room behind the counter, "tied up and gagged. Your weapons will be on the other side of the room. Once we are finished downstairs, we will release you from your bonds, and you will leave Kintargo to never return. You may keep your weapons - we won't take them." Evander looks at Gilda, making clear they should keep to that. "We just want to be sure that if we let you go, you won't go running straight to the Temple of Asmodeus here and be waiting for us with a legion of soldiers and Asmodean priests. Deal?"
The glacial veneer that was the armiger's face cracked upon hearing the Asmodean describe the would-be infilttrator as trying to save her 'master'. She thought back to her conversation with Matiscio just before leaving for the museum.
Wait. Is he talking about...?
"We ought to go down and save her!"
Aw sh*t, he is.
This recruitment drive turned investigation turned major dud had just turned into a rescue mission. Even if she hadn't known how important Jaya was to the brawler, leaving a civilian behind wouldn't sit right with Didiana. Especially given that the diabolists' interrogation methods were known to include a whole lot more bite than her own bark.
"We'll get her back, Alloco."
The statement was simple, blunt and honest. Factual, even. She couldn't think of any better way to console her teammate than to assure him of this outcome. But then, words weren't her way. Action was. And action did indeed speak louder than words as she grabbed the Asmodean by his collar and dragged him over to the statue of Aroden.
Azvernathi nods in acquiescence as Evander speaks. The Asmodean priest draws the symbols Evander needs to know in order to spell out Irori in Azlanti. He doesn’t resist when you tie up and gag him. He actually looks a bit relieved, perhaps because he expected you to have killed him by now.
The room you place him in does indeed appear to have once served as the Fantasmagorium’s offices. Azvernathi appears to have been studying a book called The History and Future of Humanity, a sacred text for worshipers of Aroden. It's in good condition and is worth 100 gp. In the shop room, you find 250 gp worth of diamond dust. Nothing else important seems to remain. This is particularly evident based on how little has been redacted from the documents you do find.
Once Azvernathi's tied up and his weapons are placed on the other side of the room, you return to the hallway with the statue. Using the symbols Azvernathi drew, Evander’s easily able to find the right combination. A few moments pass before the statue slides to the northeast against the wall, revealing a circular flight of stairs leading down.
The wrought-iron spiral stairway descends into a massive library. Bookshelves, both freestanding and wall-mounted, rise up to a ceiling forty feet above. Ladders on tracks allow access to the higher shelves, yet few books and scrolls remain here. Bloodstains mar the floor here and there, and some of the shelves bear what appears to be recent battle damage. A strange rune inscribed in a circle decorates the floor.
A few moments after you descend the staircase, an unusual creature approaches you swiftly.
“Hello,” it says. “My name is Yilliv. I’m afraid intruders are not permitted in the monastery. I have to ask you to leave lest I be forced to violently prevent your advance. Do not interact with anything in this room and do not attempt to proceed further and I will not attack.”
After telling it in Common, Yilliv repeats this statement in multiple languages, some of which you recognize, such as Draconic and Infernal.
Yilliv doesn’t take any other actions, for or against you. It merely hovers a few inches off the ground while appearing to watch you closely. A pair of doors to the northwest appear to lead further into the monastery.
Scrivenites have the ability to add their intelligence bonus as a deflection bonus to their armor class. Any condition that causes a scrivenite to lose its dexterity bonus to its armor class also causes it to lose the benefit of this ability. Scrivenites have limited spellcasting capabilities. Three times a day they can cast Comprehend Languages, Daze Monster, Detect Thoughts, and Protection from Chaos.
A scrivenite’s primary weapons are its silken ribbon bookmarks. Each ribbon lash deals 1d4 points of slashing damage and 1 point of Intelligence damage. A successful DC 16 Will save negates the Intelligence damage.
Scrivenites have a couple more abilities.
Soul Tome: Whenever a scrivenite deals Intelligence damage, the stolen knowledge manifests as a soul tome in its possession. A new soul tome is created for each different creature that a scrivenite damages in this way, and further Intelligence damage dealt to that creature causes the soul tome to swell and become more elaborate. This Intelligence damage can be restored naturally over time, by magic, or by a creature reading from its own soul tome in order to restore the stolen memories. Every 30 minutes spent in study heals 1 point of Intelligence damage.
A creature who takes an amount of Intelligence damage equal to its Intelligence score in this way falls comatose. Once comatose, the victim doesn’t heal ability damage naturally and must be revived using magic or by destroying the soul tome. A break enchantment or restoration spell cast on the soul tome restores the stolen memories imprisoned in the book and restores any Intelligence damage affecting the victim. Any creature can spend 30 minutes reading a soul
tome in order to learn the secrets and knowledge that the target once possessed. A soul tome is always written in the target’s native tongue. No check is necessary to read the book. The contents of a soul tome can vary wildly. Some may contain only minor trivia about the creature’s life, while others might contain important secrets. Soul tomes have hardness 0 and 5 hit points.
They crumble to dust once the stolen knowledge within them has been reclaimed or restored. The soul of a creature whose memories are recorded in a soul tome is not prevented from going on to the afterlife.
Tome Form: As a swift action, a scrivenite can retract its body back into its book cover mask; it then appears to be a large, sturdily bound, but otherwise mundane tome. In this form, a scrivenite can take 20 on Stealth checks to hide in plain sight as a normal book. A scrivenite in tome form
can still use its spell-like abilities, but it loses its ribbon lash attacks and the deflection bonus granted by its clever defense ability, and its speed is reduced to 5 feet.
"You have to be kidding me. That what's keeping us from entering is a creature dedicated to safeguarding the Masters? Is it even a creature?" Matiscio blinks and, somewhat annoyed, eyes his companions hoping they hold some answers.
Appreciating Azvernathi's compliance, Evander looks at the strange book creature for a moment, considering, before he asks, "What was the response of the previous intruders who came down here when you confronted them?"
Didiana blinked in surprise. What other reaction was appropriate when confronted with a facsimile of a person woven entirely out of pages? Where the hell did you come from, buddy? she wondered. And then suddenly realized that she actually knew exactly where the being hailed from. A dusty text from the Torrent library sprang to mind, along with a faded illustration of a humanoid composed of paper. The armiger had never expected to run into one of these. Her profanity laden speculation had almost been right on the mark. This thing came from the next plane over.
"Good day, scrivenite Yilliv," she said after taking a few seconds to consider how to greet the outsider, and concluding that the lawful minds of Axis were most likely to favor the direct approach.
"Can we assume that you are the caretaker of this library? If so, you're a long way from home. I'm sure you perform your function admirably, but we are not intruders here. We came to help the masters of this library. In fact, we were of the belief that the monastery had already been overtaken by hostile agents."
The sorcerer looked to the empty bookshelves as if to emphasize her point.
"These archives have been plundered. I don't understand. Why have you allowed this?"
Having foreknowledge of what forces awaited them here, the outsider was one additional challenge Didiana was eager to circumvent if possible.
"Ha! A recordian! Make sure you capture every lil' detail 'bout us. There's lots of little things ya wouldn't wanna miss! Check out this.."
Gilda rummages around in her pocket before popping Sprinkles Too out for a little socializing.
"Who knows what else is in our pockets, right? Anyway, we ain't intruders..."
To Evander, Yilliv says, ”The previous intruders? Oh, they were the ones who summoned me here.”
After Didiana speaks, Yilliv says, ”I am quite far from home. And your eyes do not deceive you, this monastery has most definitely been plundered. I’ve allowed it, because I have to. I don’t have any say in the matter, unfortunately. I am not this library’s original caretakers. They perished in the battle that took place here.”
Yilliv glides back a few feet upon seeing Sprinkles Too. The scrivenite’s pages appear ruffled at the rat’s appearance.
It says to Didiana again, ”Please keep that away from me. I do not care to be chewed upon.”
Yilliv says to all of you, ”Alas, as I said before, I cannot permit you to continue further. Still, you all seem to be more civilized, more like those I might willingly associate with if given the choice. So, if you have anymore questions, I can try to answer them before we inevitably come to blows.”