Shirish, groggy, was too weak to even lift her own weapons. Instead, as the wizard ran by her, she reached up from her spot on the floor to grab at his ankles and arrest his progress.
Tararr pumps himself into a fury taking his Urgrosh in both hands and charges the wizard's fleeing form.
Shirish lunges forward to try and trip the fleeing man, but he dodges her grab as she faints again from the effort. Tararr leaps over her to reach the red robed man and thrusts the urgrosh into his side as a slick appears between the runner and the elevator. The man half spins from the impact of the spear thrust and then slips in the grease and crashes to the floor.
With an axe head looming over his own, the desperate wizards writhes in the grease yet still manages to cast a final spell. Tararr feels cold dread welling up inside.
A wave of self-doubt hits the furious warrior for a moment making him unsure of his strikes.
But it seems that to be of little effect upon his abilities.
Tararr chops through a warding arm with the axe end of his urgrosh and then impales the wizard on the spear end. The red robes don't show the damage, but the pooling blood on the floor does. The wizard stirs no more.
Surak casts stabilize on Shirish.
He then examines the Wizard to see if he's still alive.
If he's still alive and bleeding out, Surak casts stabilize on him as well, and then suggests that he be bound and gagged while still unconscious. "I'm sure the watch will have ways of making him talk."
Surak thinks he feels the faintest ebb of life yet stirring in the wizard and stabilizes him to make sure. It is not much longer before voices are heard above and Lazaan and a paladin of the Dawn Vigil descend in the elevator. The paladin quickly restores Shirish and Chitleen to consciousness with the blessings of Sarenrae through her healing touch.
Chitleen rouses slowly from his wound induced slumber, surprised to find the face of one of the Dawn Vigil standing over him. Thanking the woman he gets unsteadily to his feet. Seeing the red-robed one safely restrained his white toothed smile returns unto his face. "Excellent."
Remembering the jewelled box and brooch in his satchel, Chitleen moves back into the wizard's chamber to see if anything might be salvaged... becoming saddened when he sees the flame damaged goods.
The study is now blackened and stinking of smoke. Lazaan follows and sifts through some of the charred bits of paper. "I think this is not necessarily a bad thing. The knowledge here was most likely dangerous. We have the villain in our possession now. No small task by the look of things. Let us return to the Breakstride. You look like you could use some rest."
"By all means, and a good meal. I don't believe I have ever in my life asked this much of my devotion to Lord Ragathiel before this week."
With a brief sigh and a last scan over the curios within the room...
Appraise take 10 for 19
Perception take 10 for 20
...Chitleen hopes that something survived the fire... but accedes "It would seem as though a retreat and repast is in order... I for one would test my neck to see if the chai will leak through the newly repaired rent" smiling at his mild self-reproach and jest.
Shirish wakes with a look of awe and reverence in her eyes for the miracle of the goddess's healing being extended to her, then she looks to Chitleen stirring and backs away.
"Th-Thank you, lady," she rumbles, and slides her eyes nervously to the elf her sword brought down in a single hit.
Some guardian you are, slave, she mocks herself.
While the others flit about the room, sensing danger has passed, Shirish removes her armor for the trip back up the hole. "Do any of you masters have some knowledge of how to keep the chanting from driving me insane again?" she grumbles and rubs at where her head still has a considerable knot over her eye.
Daeron looks back into the personal chambers of the wizard. Hoping for some fortune, he casts a cantrip, in the hopes he would have located the mage's spellbook or spell components.
Daeron shoots back a remark at Surak.
By the looks of how proficient our group is at injuring ourselves, I would think Ragathiel would hear a lot more from you in the future Surak.
"Good thing I came to ya when I did! Sewin' up yer wounds like I did and all, hahaha. I think I might be needin' ta spend a little more time with the firkin over there before next time though.", Tararr says with a hardy slap on Chitleen's back.
Chitleen does indeed find several odd curios and books remaining on the shelf, but nothing of value and not worth the trouble of bringing along on the upcoming journey.
Daeron finds a small repellant pale leather tome beneath the wizard's robes. Most of the spells appear necromantic and anathema to him though there look to be a few abjuration and conjuration spells. They will require a read magic cantrip or some skill to figure out though.
You make your weary way out of the tomb shop out into the evening where the paladin unceremoniously straps the wizard to a fine Qadiran stallion waiting outside. With a swirl of pink and gold, she thanks you for your service and gallops off to the city. Lazaan stays to accompany you back to the Breakstride and says he will bring your compensation tomorrow at breakfast.
"I believe tomorrow will be dedicated to resting and perhaps shopping for supplies. I'm sure it will take most of my power just to finish healing us, leaving me once again without much to rely on in a pinch other than my metal."
Daeron runs his finger along the leather bound tome with eager anticipation. Nevertheless he felt getting himself cleansed from the undead gore a more pressing matter, as well as a much needed rest to revitalize his drained mind. Calling on his familiar, Ghema resumes his curled ball shape and returns to the bat-pocket.
I would bade all a good night's rest for a warm tub is awaiting and I can no longer resists its charms.
Though he looks a little road worn, Tararr continues to be in good spirits as they make there way home. "That was a fine way to spend a day! Though ye mademe waste my time by killin' that stinkin' wizard only to bring him back from the pit. Shoulda at least let me whack off his fingers an' maybe his tongue. Would have made fine additions to my collection." Thankfully, the dwarf spares everyone a look at his "collection." Upon returnng to the Breakstride, he sets about cleaning the massive amount of blood and guts that now hang from just about every bt of him.
"It was not out of love nor pity that I brought him back, it was so that he may answer the guard's questions and answer for his crimes. The city owes him proper vengeance."
Surak pulls out the necromancer's dagger. "Daeron, what do you make of this? It must be magical, so probably valuable, it seems fitting reward for our dangerous day."
Closer inspection reveals the knife to be a double edged ceremonial dagger with a white willow handle. A spiral design is carved into the handle and the blade is silvered.
Detect magic finds an aura of moderate conjuration.
The next morning, Lazaan show up for breakfast with a wide smile. "Ah, my friends, Happy Burning Blades! A most glorious day thanks to your assistance. A dark plot has been uncovered and catastrophe avoided. You should be proud! The Sharif and Imam have been most generous and approved 500 scarabs each as your reward. Plus the Dawn Vigil has allowed that you may keep the weapons that were loaned!"
"It is a shame you have other business and will not be staying long. What is of such importance to the dwarves that you must hurry off?"
Valuable perhaps, as is the magic which emanates from it is notable. I would try to discern its properties before I turn in, a challenge for my fatigued mind.
Daeron inspects the dagger with with an appraising eye
Returning it towards Surak, Daeron's face reddens a little as he remarks.
I would better re-examine this trinket come morning after some rest. I would point out the Pharasmian markings adorned on its hilt and you and I would likely guess as to its purpose, a ceremonial weapon against the incorporeal undead. A useful property indeed.
Chitleen bathes when he returns to the Breakstride and again in the morning for good measure. Freshly perfumed and wearing fine silks once more he greets the arrival of Lazaan warmly.
To the Dawn Vigil's question he offers "Merely an issue that has been languishing for hundreds of years... it is most urgent of course" smiling widely "Chai?"
Chitleen seeks out Daeron and hands him the gold brooch that he lifted from the wizards room. "Brother, has this any magic to it?"
Daeron palms the brooch, murmuring the arcane words for Detect Magic, while smiling wistfully at his kin's new neck scar and seeing his own bandaged leg.
Dangerous is it not this business of adventuring? An eternity our lives would take and at the end of it all would we be laced with scars and pockmarks! Daeron voices in a low tone to his fellow kin.
Brooch
Smiling wanly "It is what it is brother... however there are moments when it is most enjoyable nonetheless, and it certainly yields a better return than perfumery"
Tararr decides that it will be best to keep a closer eye on Chitleen from here on out as he is prone to bouts of rushing into battle. While a trait he is quite fond of, Tararr is rather concerned about the fraility of the elf. Upon returning to their room the elves will find a snoring dwarf laid out on the floor between their racks with an axe in one hand and his prized Urgrosh in the other.
Opening his door to find a snoring dwarf upon the floor... Chitleen resists the urge to kick him back awake. Instead he takes the sheets from his bed and claims Tararr's old bed as his own for the evening... after ensuring that his own sheets lay upon it first.
When Daeron tries to hand back the dagger, Surak says, "Please, hold on to it until you can determine whether it's something we can use in the future or something we should find a buyer for. Such small blades are not really my specialty anyway." Surak grins as he pats his unmatched pair of bastard swords.
In the morning, Surak gathers up his allies. "I am feeling slightly better this morning but we have many wounds to heal. I will act as a conduit for the healing Ragathiel reserves for those who wreak vengeance upon evil."
"I believe I will be completely better by tomorrow morning. Does anyone still have more grave wounds that need attention?"
To the Dawn Vigil's question he offers "Merely an issue that has been languishing for hundreds of years... it is most urgent of course" smiling widely "Chai?"
Lazaan smiles, "I did not mean to pry. I'm certain your boss means to hold his secrets as closely as his beloved gold. I simply meant it was unfortunate that you could not stay to meet with Imam Cynore once the festival has finished. I am certain she would wish to give you the recognition you deserve, but perhaps these notes of credit will do."
Chitleen gives a predatory smile as though a merchant about to make a killing on an exchange "Monetary reward is always welcome sahib, but if the Vigil wishes to reclaim some of my recognition as you say, it would be a simple task. If the one of the vigil known as Jahaam were to present himself to apologize and endure as he made us endure, then I would be more than willing to see my gold put to better use than lining my own purse."
To his companions "Before we depart I would also see Menthis of the Archive to proffer thanks for his assistance... after I spend some time in the souk of course. Dear Tararr would you accompany me? you did so enjoy watching me spend money earlier." needling his swarthy companion's reticence to part with his coin.
"Of course. I can't let you run around like some flighty human teenager with that new found cash of yours, now can I?", he responds to the elf's invitation.
Chitleen gives Tararr a wink "But of course Sahib, I would ask for no less... but first I must finish my chai."
The grin on Chitleen's face would leave Tararr a little uneasy as though the elf has something planned...
"Oohh, boy.", is all Tararr can think when he sees the look on the elf's face.
"If the one of the vigil known as Jahaam were to present himself to apologize and endure as he made us endure, then I would be more than willing to see my gold put to better use than lining my own purse."
Lazaan gives a rueful smile, "Ah my friend, you still feel your honor has been slighted. I am sorry for that. For all their grace and mercy, some paladins can still be heavy-handed. Again I apologize though I do not think Jahaam would."
"Now I must get back to my post. It has been an honor to meet you, noble adventurers. May we meet again."
Chitleen stands to give a short bow before draining his cup and turning to Tararr "Shall we?" and addressing Daeron also "Would you care to visit Menthis once more brother?"
"If ya mean get going, then yes. Who's this fella that did ye wrong?"
Shirish is absent at breakfast the next morning, and through most of the night, returning late and catching only a few hours of sleep.
"I will attend to our provisions," Shirish rumbles when Chitleen and Tararr discuss plans to meet with the archive. "For certain we can use more rope. Some chain..." she trais and looks at her hands.
When the others depart to visit Menthis:
"Shirish, can I tell you some stories of my patron, Lord Ragathiel? I believe his life may serve as good inspiration for one such as yourself. He was born in hell, the son of an archdevil, and when his mother took him from that awful plane, he started on the path of good, eventually becoming a Celestial. I believe he is a great demonstration that good can also be strong. I see in you great care for others, as well as hidden depths of strength."
Chitleen raises an eyebrow of surprise at Tararr, clearly the interrment and interrogation not two days prior did not wound him as it did himself. But he waves away the question "It matters not friend. Come! my purse already grows heavy and I must lighten it." setting off for the depths of the souks.
He first makes for the perfumiers and crystal blowers - seeking to blend a perfume that closely resembles the scent of yamuun. Not as rushed today he takes what time he needs to pay fair market price, eliciting the result of a finely made crystal bottle with a small quantity of yamuun perfume within...
He also lingers at what elfen or half-elfen tailors in silk he can readily find. Talking excitedly and at quick pace in the lilting tongue of his kin, Tararr would notice furtive glances cast his way... though nothing is said that he might understand.
Only then does he make for the Archive, spring in his step and smile on his lips.
It is fortunate that Chitleen is not in a rush because he finds slim pickings at the souk this day. With the culmination of the Festival of the Burning Blades, only a paltry few infidels are found open for business at the market. All others are gathered for the festivities in and around the Lambent Citadel.
It would take some time and effort anyway to reproduce the unique scent of yamuun. Chitleen would have better luck in the Steel Souk among the desert dwarves, but it is not armaments he seeks. Finally, he does find a traveling gnome costumier named Ringelbaud who speaks elven in conspiratorial tones and is able to help the elf procure the required items for a mere 80 scarabs.
Lamenting the lack of merchants available for his custom, Chitleen is forced to accept the offer of the gnome - supplying him with the coin up front and bidding him deliver the goods as soon as gnomishly able to the Breakstride.
The path then wends to the Archive... hopeful that the scholar has not forsaken his duties to wallow in the festival's attractions.
Indeed, Chitleen's misgivings are well founded for the Archive is closed to allow the eminent curator to attend the high festival of the city's patron goddess.