Kali doesn't quite flinch at Irian's answer to her question. She's about to reply when Owl walks out the door that's between them.
Kali pales as she realizes that it's Owl walking through the door and closes her mouth with a click. After a moment, she takes a deep breath and pushes away the doubts for now.
"Are the others almost ready," she asks.
The party gears up and sets off to the where they believe the skulk caverns to be. The journey takes them towards town, so the main trail is their first path.
Along the way, they spot something of interest. A visible crowd of six men has gathered around the base of a large tree. As you draw closer, you see a terrible sight.
A young boy, Varisian by his clothing and most likely from the circus, is bound to the tree and wears a burlap sack over his face. His body is badly bruised and beaten and he hangs limply, not even reacting as a grown man whacks him with a sap.
"Thought you could sneak into town, eh!? Thought we wouldn't notice you in the shadows!? Though we would take it easy on you since you're young!?"
Each line is accentuated by a vicious smack of the sap sinking into the boy's flesh.
The boy is badly beaten and unconscious.
The boy is actually dying, but the angry townsfolk don't seem to notice.
As soon as she realizes what's going on, something inside Kali begins to burn. Her eyes blaze as the side of her that is often hidden away comes out.
She strides forward and readies her sword and her shield. The blade of her sword is nicked and well worn having seen heavy use even after she scavenged it. She snarls a word in a strange language that grates on the ears, dark, shifting, and strangely sensual. Her eyes focus sap as she taps into the power of her demonic blood.
Whether or not the sap is actually broken, she keeps walking until she's just a few paces from them.
"The next one of you that lays a hand on him is dead," she growls, rage seething just beneath the surface. "I doubt the sheriff is going to care much about what happens to you when she learns that six grown men were ganging up on a child and had beaten him into unconsciousness. If you're looking for someone to bully, then why don't you try me?"
Violet eyes blaze as she glares at them, she longs to lash out at them, to spill their blood and tear them apart, but she holds her temper. It'd be best if they just left, and attacking first would hardly be a good way to de-escalate things.
Though, if she was honest, she was praying to whatever gods were listening that they'd take her up on her offer.
Tish eyes the limp form secured to the tree with a critical eye, her suspicions all but confirmed when the man's sap fails to draw a reaction from the boy. She had seen such unresponsiveness to pain before, usually when a client's session under a Calistrian's lash ran on a little too long. Unfortunately for the Varisian boy, whatever words he might have said to get the mob to stop undoubtedly fell upon deaf ears.
"It's more than that," Laetitia mentions as she saunters toward the tree, counting on little more than her relaxed movements and obviously Chelish heritage to get her through the gaggle of men untouched. She presses two fingers to the boy's neck underneath the sack, more for show than anything. "He's dying."
Her eyes lock with Kali's, for once holding no hint of smugness or disdain for the tiefling. Although certainly not one to be moved to the selfless defense of others often, Tish's first instinct had been toward shedding these men's blood, too, reducing them to quivering piles of nerves under her mental assault that they might know how it feels to be helpless as the life slowly leaves their bodies. Thankfully for all involved, her instincts are, occasionally, overruled by what good sense she possesses. Instead of violence, Tish tries for a more diplomatic, if guileful approach, adopting an air of indifference with the intention of jarring the men into realizing the depth of their own cruelty.
"On the contrary, I'm sure the Sheriff will be very interested in what happens to you. Why, I'd wager that she'll commendations lined up for each of you, no? It isn't everyday that six brave men such as yourselves get to take out their frustrations on a helpless boy. But don't let us stop you; finish what you started. Here—" Tish pauses to lift the burlap sack off of the boy's head to show them just how close he is to shuffling off to Pharasma's realm. "Make sure to get a good look at his face when he dies. I'm sure you'll all want to preserve this sense of accomplishment for the rest of your lives."
Having said that, Laetitia folds her hands behind her back, seemingly the picture of serenity in the face of their depravity, and waits for the men to make their decision. The one crack in her placid facade shows when her eyes flick briefly to Median, hoping to root the more compassionate woman into inaction with a look lest she undo the consequences of the men's actions by bringing the boy back from the brink too soon.
The message Tish conveys with her look is simple: Not right now.
Median sees that the boy is dying and while Kali is distracting them with her speech, she follows Letitia in, walking closer in order to heal him.
However, upon hearing Laetitia's speech, and seeing her glance, she changes her mind. Instead she crouches down to look at the boy, and surreptitiously casts only stabilize, mumbling something, and moving her hands briefly.
<--To hide the spell
After stooping to look at the boy and hide her casting, she stands beside Laetitia, not interfering or drawing a weapon.
He must have done something quite horrible to make you so angry. Sneaking into town? From where?
<--Trying to get them talking rather than beating.
Irian takes in the sight quickly, a growl rumbling from deep within as he walks determinedly to stand next to Kalisuel, drawing his sword. He lets the others talk, but the fury in him is evident in his clenched jaw and red/purple face. He eyes the townsfolk darkly, the corded muscles in his neck standing out as he restrains himself.
As the two women talk to the small crowd, the warrior turns slightly to regard them. His deep voice sounds, his anger making it quiver, "No child deserves this, no matter his crime." Irian glowers at the two, unsure why they are talking reasonably with these cowards.
He thinks about cutting the boy down, but decides against it for now. If he walked away those cravens might get emboldened and swarm Kali, and then there'd be a real mess.
With a snarl, she marches until she has the man who had been beating the boy at sword point. Her fangs, though small, are clear for all to see.
"Tell me why I shouldn't separate your head from your shoulders right now," she hisses. "Tell me what's to keep me from killing all of you where you stand?"
This isn't an act. Kali is one wrong move away from trying her best to slaughter these men. Lia, Tish, and Owl would probably know that this isn't like her. She's normally more calm and reserved in her emotions, her breakdown after her near death experience yesterday notwithstanding.
Basically, unless these men surrender right now, or someone calms her down, she's about to start killing.
The sap in the man's hand instantly splinters violently and he lets a yelp of panicked surprise.
There is a genuine look of shock at the boy's condition, some of the men even take a step back in revulsion. The gruesome sight of the boy is enough to push Laetitia's and Median's reasonable words past the group's growing hatred of Varisian's, and they move to quickly help the boy down.
The man Kalisuel has at bladepoint looks nervous, but firm in his stance.
"He had snuck into my son's room," he says, as his cohorts undid the bindings. "Can you imagine, some stranger in your child's room in the dead of night? And with these murders going on...I just wanted to send a message, no one would come for my son ever again."
As the boy is let down, his breathing eases, and a restful look appears on his face.
Irian continues to give the townsfolk a dark look, but sheathes his sword as it becomes clear there will be no need for hostilities. He reaches out with his gauntlet, pushing the tip of Kalisuel's blade away from the man's throat. With that, he glances towards Median and Tish as the men let the boy down, his expression one of chagrin. He ought to have known they had a plan, an intelligent plan, to solve this situation.
The lines on his forehead wrinkling in thought, the warrior crosses his arms as he asks the 'leader', What was the boy doing in your son's room?" His tone was harsher than intended, his anger at the previous situation still too raw.
The man immediately grows uncomfortable, and looks away.
"He was attacking him." he says.
Yep, he's definitely lying.
Kali looks at Irian as he pushes her sword out of line. She's still seething with fury, but it retreated back as she saw the others had this in hand.
That was until the man tried to lie to them.
her voice was like a whipcrack as she dropped her sword and used her free hand to grab the front of the man's tunic and pull him down to eye-level with her.
"Tell us what really happened, or so help me you will learn what they mean when you hear someone speak of a demon's fury."
Median reaches over and squeezes Laetitia's hand briefly, and whispers Thanks for helping this not become a bloodbath.
Then she kneels to heal the boy.
Irian looked skeptically at the foolish man, thinking to call him out on his obvious lie, when the diminutive Kali grabs at the man, heightening the tension once again. His first instinct was to join her in her angry questioning and threatening of the villager, but thoughts of the other ladies' non-violent solution to the previous situation had him suppressing those darker urges.
The warrior laid a hand on Kalisuel's arm, not trying to extract her grip. His dark eyes met hers, his tone as calm as he could manage. "Enough...this man knows his false words fell on ears that know better. Perhaps he'll share the truth with us now?"
His hand still on the small warrior's arm, his gaze turns to the villager's, his eyebrows up interrogatively. Irian tries to maintain a neutral facade, only his clenched fist at his side betraying his desire to visit upon these men the beating they had just meted out.
Kali calms down somewhat at Irian's words. She lets the man's tunic go and lowers her arm. and goes to retrieve her sword before turning to help with tending the boy's injuries.
Laetitia looks over to Median, traces of amusement in her eyes at the woman's gratitude. If the healer thinks her gracious attitude will spare her from the worst of Tish's thorny personality, she has another thing coming. Although... it is nice to have her efforts recognized and appreciated, Tish considers. Not that she any intentions of letting the others know that. "I couldn't very well waste all my energy putting down these yokels, could I? Not when you all insist on dragging me into a far more dangerous situation later."
She watches as Irian and Kali attempt to wring the story out of the ringleader with little success. She has a mind to let them continue; Kali's uncharacteristically aggressive demeanor has her curious about just how far the tiefling is willing to escalate things. Alas, they have a long day ahead of them, and the sooner they wrapped up this current unpleasantness, the sooner they can get on with their investigation. "We can get the story from the boy when he wakes," she notes with a dismissive wave of her hand, what little patience she has wearing thin. It isn't their duty to investigate every crime that happened in Ilsurian, after all.
Knowing they would likely spend too much time standing around interrogating the mob so long as the men remained, Tish leans toward the group, her voice deceptively silky even as her dark gaze alone threatens to drop the temperature of the immediate area by several degrees, "You boys have somewhere else to be right now? That is, unless you care to give your version of the events to the Sheriff?"
The Varisian boy seems to be about the younger teenage years, still relatively young. Median's ministrations seem to have him halfway back to good health, nothing he couldn't heal normally given time and some decent care.
He stirs only slightly as Kali runs one hand down his head to check for cracks and dried blood. His head seems to lean into your warm hand as if seeking the comfort of a gentle soul.
Laetitia's threats seem more potent than Irian's request, and the Villagers, after one last check to see the boy was alright, take off back to the village.
Well, we don't know where this one belongs, and we certainly can't take him to a potential battle. Should we drop him off at the carriage?
She turns to Lia. Do you think that Kari could watch over him temporarily?
"Either way, we aren't leaving him here," Kali says as she crouches to scoop him up. She staggers under the bulk, but manages it well enough that she can walk to wherever they needed to.
The entire time, there's something raw and ugly blazing away in the backs of her eyes. What she'd witnessed has obviously hit a nerve that even Tish couldn't find during the trip over.
Irian chortles at Tish's brisk efficiency at breaking up the crowd. The woman could stare daggers, she could. The warrior makes sure to not make eye contact, lest he be treated to a helping all his own. Seeing the look in Kali's eyes as she bends down to accept the boy's bulk, the fighter decides to give her some space.
"I think Median's suggestion is sound. With the deadline before us, this boy's tale can wait until after we have done our business with the skulks." Irian then crossed his arms, leaning against a nearby tree, waiting for the smarter minds to sort it out and make a decision.
Median joins Lia and Kali to make sure the boy gets settled in okay, and to be there in case he seems to need more healing from the jostling of the journey.
"Just what our little carriage needs. More people," Tish says, though it lacks the bite of her usual remarks. "You know, someone at the Carnival should be able to recognize him and tell us where he belongs," she calls out to the three retreating women. It certainly seems a better option to her than leaving a half-dead stranger in the room where they sleep.
Good idea. Be back soon! Median calls back.
When they get to the carriage, she makes sure they boy is still stable, and if she sees anyone around, she'll call them over (before they move the boy to any secret rooms) to see if anyone knows who the boy is. If they do offhand, then they'll have some knowledge for later. If not, she doesn't spend a lot of time on it, and comes back to the scene of the beating with the others.
"We don't' even know if he's with the carnival," Kali replies, "and we don't have time to ask everyone in the carnival, and one more isn't going to make a difference for a little while."
Before he knew it the three women were gone with the boy, leaving the warrior with the two who seemed to have the most fun irritating one another. The threesome from hell. He certainly didn't disagree with Tish...he had felt righteous anger at the boy's treatment, but had no desire to care for him beyond getting him home.
As Median's retreating form promised an expeditious return, Irian sighed and turned his attention to the remaining duo. "So do you think these skulks are committing the murders?" After a bit more thought he adds, "Does this group have a name? Most of the famous ones do..."
Well this was educational. Owl was about to suggest the men stop before they were sent to jail for murder when Tish took the lead. She didn't seem the altruistic type but maybe something about the boy's predicament set her off. Interesting. The others jumped forward much as he expected. Kali found her voice yet again. Apparently there was a backbone there. Good information.
As for the situation, this was quite the coincidence. Could be panicky civilians or could be more. They had a few solid leads so far so they shouldn't waste more time then necessary here. "Shall we? They should be able to catch up by the time we get there and look around. We don't know the exact location anyway."
On there way towards where the skulks were reported to be, he watches Kali closely. The scene also must have touched a nerve. Or maybe reminded her of something.
Kali hustles to catch back up with the others, doing so not too long after they'd split up to drop the boy off with Kari. The anger is gone, having retreated back to whatever cave it dwelled in, and there was no longer a sense of seething fury about her, which in some ways may be more worrying than if it had been there. How much was she bottling up inside? Was she going to go berserk? What would set her off? All questions that the others might be asking themselves.
Laetitia slides her gaze away from the parting women to Owl and Irian.
What to do? What to do? Sidling up to Irian, she leans against the same tree he's claimed, albeit in a much more provocative pose; one arm crooked over her head, her other hand resting on her hip that's cocked to one side. "I can't say for certain, but I doubt it. They admitted to killing the pawnbroker's guards, but Walder himself and Sister Esrelda? Those murders were carefully staged. Not the sort of thing I would leave to a bunch of shiver addicts. Would you?"
His next question draws a soft, if not entirely genuine chuckle from the woman. "We haven't really been together long enough to warrant a name, I think. Although, 'Corvus Investigations' does sound nice. Doesn't it, Owl?"
Irian continues leaning against the suddenly popular tree as Tish joins him at his arboreal hangout. As much as he knows better, his eyes are drawn to her as she begins to speak to him somewhat nicely, even!. His gaze quickly roamed over the posture-accented swells of her body before arriving at her comely face, listening intently to the dark beauty. He even managed to keep his tongue in his mouth. Until he responded to her question, that is, "I couldn't imagine even wanting to stage a murder, let alone planning it out. Leaving a well-thought out plan in the hands of drug-addled men does seem a poor choice, though..."
Corvus...was that the fancy word for body? Like some kind of murder investigators? Not exactly what he had had in mind, but Irian supposed it was an honorable enough thing to do. The warrior restrains his sigh of relief as Tish drags Owl into the conversation, having a clear excuse to drag his peepers off the eye candy before him to look at the other man.
As the others return he steps back to the front of the group, offering a friendly smile to Kali as she joins him in the Meat Shield position.
"The skulks appear to have caused only one of three murders we know of so far. They're are bring used. We need to know by whom,""he says to Irian. As Tish pulls him in with her question, he smiles and let's his eyes linger longer than proper on the curves she was generously emphasizing. "Oh, I'm already using that one." He gives her that half smile all men get when they have their eye on the prize. "Just not for this investigation. Don't want to get them confused. Could lead to some awkward situations."
Kali notices the scrutiny that Owl was giving her, and a part of her temper flares. Who was he to be questioning her?
As quickly as the spike of anger appears, it fades away. Taking a breath, she adjusts her pace so she is walking beside the half-elf investigator.
"Do you think I should have left," she asks, assuming what was troubling him so much that he was being rather obvious in his observations.
Laetitia continues to test Irian with her closeness, trying to tease out any hint of weakness or lack of resolve behind the man's cool demeanor. The back and forth between him and Median the night before where he ceded his 'claim' on pursuing Tish hadn't been forgotten, and the courtesan was just petty enough to consider that both an insult and a challenge. She is, admittedly, at a marked disadvantage; feigning innocence has never come easily to her. Even Irian's simple response has her coy mask slipping, feeling as if she's revealed more than she intended. She paints on a pretty smile a moment later and says, not particularly convincingly, "No... no, of course not. Who could do such a thing?"
Tish makes no effort to hide her annoyance as Kali, Lia and Median reappear, bringing an end to her brief game as Irian moves to take the lead. However, her irritation is short-lived, and, after pushing off from the tree, Tish joins Owl's side as they make their way to the outskirts of Ilsurian. She might not be able to play the same game with the too clever half-elf, but that didn't make being around him any less amusing. Usually. "You're already using my name? For one of your other investigations?" she asks, regarding Owl with an arched brow and a faint smile on her lips.
As Kali moves to take Owl's other side, Tish is curiously silent despite the opening the tiefling leaves for her to deliver another one of her cutting remarks. Although she looks for all the world as if their conversation holds no interest to her, Tish nevertheless makes no attempt to give them any privacy, clearly interested in seeing how Owl chooses to navigate the minefield that has become Kali's temper.
Median, finding herself at the back of the procession, and not wanting to disturb the bizarre but entertaining social jockeying going on ahead of her, turns to Lia and says So, Lia, tell me about yourself. Where are you from? What is this book you are working on?
The warrior makes no move to leave his perch, although he considered it. In the end, he thought it would be more awkward for him to move than to just grin and bear the courtesan's close proximity. Not that it was all bad, of course. The woman was easy on the eyes. After it became apparent that Owl's involvement wouldn't draw her away, Irian looked back at her as she beamed her smile at him, listening to her rhetorical question. "Whoever we're chasing."
Ok, so it maybe wasn't the smartest answer...but the fighter had grown up with simple, honest folks so he gave simple, honest answers. He had almost succumbed to the desire to let his eyes wander when the others return. Breathing in deeply through the nose, relieved, he wandered to the front of the group, where he quickly found himself alone.
Drowning out the conversation of the others, Irian focuses on the path before them. He decided to walk with his blade free in his hand...while it might not necessarily be the best idea when walking into a nest of potential enemies, he thought it prudent considering that they could possibly be ambushed.
"Do you think I should have left," she asks, assuming what was troubling him so much that he was being rather obvious in his observations.
Owl is a little annoyed at letting himself get caught. He needed to up his poker face and subtly it seemed. But she was as perceptive as a panicky animal sometimes. Good practice. "I don't think you could have left. Something about the situation hit close to home hmm? Which makes it paradoxical that you'll jump to the defense of others but fail to defend yourself except in physically." Though the accumulated damage might disagree. Best not push too hard though. She could squash him easily.
"You're already using my name? For one of your other investigations?" she asks, regarding Owl with an arched brow and a faint smile on her lips.
"Oh yes," he says giving her a smoldering look. One that promised great pleasure in the future. "I am hoping to get close enough to apply a more," he moves close enough that his hand brushes hers for a moment, "hands on approach. They are a tool for alchemy and locks they are very nimble." He slightly emphasizes the last word and applies all his considerable charm. It was really unfair of her to challenge Irian to such a verbal spar. Time to show her two could play at this game.
"Th-that wasn't what I meant," she replies. After a moment, she asks, "do you remember what I said yesterday? About the women at the brothel beating me and leaving me to die?"
Tish's dark eyes flick down at the brush of Owl's hand against hers. Almost shyly, she reaches out to stroke slender fingers along the inside of his palm. Tish gives the man a coy look, peeking up at him through her dark lashes. "They are nimble," she readily agrees. Certain that he is merely trying to play a game with her, her shy gaze narrows into a glare and her coy smile turns sharp. "And so, so soft." After unceremoniously dropping his hand, Tish folds her arms under her chest and gives Owl an arch look as if to say 'your move'.
Tish pulls a face at Kali's questions, and although she's marginally interested in hearing that story, she remains quiet but for saying, "Well, that answers why you've been so rude since we've met..."
"Ever think it might just be you," Kali asks, "though I'm not really sure what you meant by that unless you're a whore."
There wasn't any heat to her comment, her voice as flat and emotionless as ever.
"Courtesan, darling," she corrects in a breezily manner that's quickly betrayed by her next remark. "Not that I'd expect you to understand the difference." The thoughtful look that crosses Laetitia's face gives the impression that she is honestly considering Kali's question, but it's fleeting. "No. Whatever your issue with me is, it's clearly the result of some past trauma," she pronounces with all the confidence of one who makes a habit out of getting inside people's heads.
Eyes forward, Irian. Yes indeedy. Hearing the innuendo of the two was uncomfortable enough, but when women started suggesting that other women were whores the warrior knew that s$$! was about to get real. Best to just keep walking up ahead and pretend he hadn't heard a word. So instead he studied all the interesting surroundings on their way. A lightning-struck tree. A muddy little pool of water. An abandoned hovel slowly collapsing in on itself through neglect. Very interesting, and very safe. He hoped the others were watching their rear. Surely Median and Lia were getting on better.
Median in her quick trip back to the carriage, stumbles upon a carnival worker who seems overjoyed to see the small boy.
"Please, please, his mother has been worried sick!" he says. He takes out a small cylinder of sorts and points it to the sky, and high flying sparks of green and gold shoot into the air, leaving behind a trail of colors. Soon, the panicked footsteps of a middle-aged Varisian woman begin rushing towards you.
She hugs and caresses her child, still waking up slowly.
"Thank you, thank you." she repeats over and over.
When she has gained her composure, she unties a scarf that was tied to her waist, and hands it to Median.
"In my younger days, I was quite the dancer. It isn't much, but it is magical. Perhaps you could sell it, but please accept this token of my thanks."
With that, she holds her son's hands and takes him home.
============================================================
With the party's banter turning to barbs and jabs, it may have been a relief to some that they were soon arriving at the skulk's den. Owl's information comes in handy once again, revealing that sticking to the walls of the cavernous opening would be much wiser than entering en masse through the middle.
The group just enters the cave when the stench hits them. The horrible, gut wrenching stench that makes one involuntarily suck even more air even, eliciting a coughing fit that continues the cycle. Before you lay the bodies of a little less than a dozen skulks. All dead.
Median wraps her new scarf around her nose and mouth to try to block out some of the smell and moves forward to see if any of them can be saved.
Irian grimaces at the smell as he coughs, but moves forward at Median's side into the cavern to provide protection against the possibility that whatever laid waste to the skulks was still about. Sword drawn, his eyes flit to the shadows in the cave, anxious.
"Looks like we missed the party," Tish darkly quips as she reholsters her hand crossbow. "I can't say that I'm disappointed." Questioning the skulks may have been the only solid lead they had to go on, but she hadn't been holding out hope that they would have had anything helpful to contribute. If anything, she thinks that the skulks will prove marginally more useful dead than alive.
Clearly affected by the stench in the cavern, Laetitia doesn't stray too far past the entrance. Rather, she lets the others check over the bodies while she searches for any sign of tracks outside.
Well this was both disappointing and intriguing. A new clue that added more questions for few answers. Someone didn't want the skulks talking, that was for certain. But the act itself could reveal much. Owl ignored the pungent odor with barely a flinch and began going over each body for clues, cause and time of death, and belongings. "You think this a waste of time but even death can provide answers."
"Laetitia, how can that possibly be the issue I have with you when I just now learned that you sold sex for money. I didn't even know there was a difference between a whore and a courtesan besides price and the window dressing offered," Kali says rubbing her temples. A dangerous note of patience was in her voice as she tried to throttle the urge to punch the woman in face.
"Seeing as you are insisting that it is something in my past, then can you blame me when the last time I had dealings with whores, I was beaten near to death, stripped to my underwear, and then left for the ghouls of Ankar-Te," she says, a vitriolic bite creeping into her tone. "Even if you can, then think about how much I know about you. I could have guessed that you are vain, petty, and take great pleasure in cutting people down and playing little games with them. I could not have guessed with any sort of confidence that you were or are a whore until you told me, unless you want to add mind-reading to the abilities possessed by the demon-blooded."
With a razor-thin smile and eyes that held no humor she turns her head to look at the other woman.
"I assure you that I can't read minds. So here is what really pisses me off about you," Kali hisses, "you have antagonized me and almost everyone else since we've met. You labor under the assumption that I owe you a damn thing, and you think that you can switch between honey and vinegar as much as you like without facing the consequences. If you find me such a bother, then I will gladly take my leave once we are done with this investigation. Until then, be warned that you are playing with fire each time you use that razor tongue of yours to goad me. There's a part of me that is begging you for an excuse to introduce my gauntlets to your face. Pray to whatever gods you want that you don't cause that part to slip its leash," she tells the enchantress. Her smile is gone, and there's only icy venom in the tiefling's voice and the banked embers of fury in her eyes.