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Cyrus mopes along with the group. Much has been on his mind lately, and not to long ago he started to see an opportunity to get himself alone with the enchanting Aya, a prime opportunity to live in the moment and forget the heavy things of his past, and future.
Then she insisted that he go along. Dammit! Do I smell? Does she think I am to young? I thought we had a thing! She smiled at me!
When they arrive at the boarded up bar, Cyrus puts away the thoughts grudgingly.
He grabs his wand from his wrist sheath as they approach, and tries to get it to work as Haafiz is swinging his foot back to break down the door.
A blue-ish light shimmers in front of the ninja before disappearing, and he smirks at the added protection. Just as he slides the wand back in its sheath the door shatters in front of them. Finarin calls down the stones, and Cyrus grimaces.
I've got to learn how Haafiz does that...
Focusing internally, the ninja suddenly disappears from view, just like his magical shield protection just a moment ago. He runs into the room, skirting along the edges to stay out of the area of rubble.
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As they approach, Raven regrets having expended most of The Lost Prince's blessings so early. He sighs and palms a small potion bottle as they kick the door open. He rushes in, regretting his choice of light footwear as the pebbles dig into his feet, grabbing his spear as he uncomfortably grunts.
"I will do what I can to not obscure your line of sight, Ibid," Raven says, popping the cork on his potion, throwing it back into his throat, then feeling himself grow, holding his spear ready, out over the center of the room.
The arrogance is soon swept away from the Oread's face as Ibid's arrow pierces his skin. Gritting his teeth to not cry out in pain, the man bolts his eyes between Finarin and Ibid. "Why don't you join the winning side, elf." the oread says to Finarin, and his voice suddenly sounds very reasonable, so much that switching sides actually sounds like a good idea. "Kill that archer for me, elf!"
Then the oread steps out of the magically created rocky terrain, and draws a potion from his belt.
Finarin shakes his head, and decides to ignore the tempting words of the Oread. The idea of turning against his friends doesn't sound that good anymore.
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Looking at Ibid, Finarin's mind swirls with all the memories he had shared with this man. Battling for his life with the deranged cook, fleeing from the T-Rex, looking out for Cyrus.
Laughing a joyless laugh, Finarin turns to the man. "This bond runs ... deep. You will pay for your arrogance .... bit by bit. You will scream and beg and plead .... but it will avail you . I shall have my vengeance upon you ... and you shall wish with your dying breath that you never .... saw ... my ... face."
Finarin had let the evils of the magic take control of him before. He had let the magic run wild. Now he knew he had control over it. Tremendous power. All under control. All ready to come out.
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Haafiz activates his oread bane ability, calling upon Desna to show him the right way to penetrate their rocky exteriors. He lifts his feet up lightly in the air, mystically finding the correct footing even on the shattered earth littering the floor. With his devotions done, he allows the blood to fill his head. The pressure pushes forth upon his eyes until all he sees is the oread.
"You are mine," he says simply as he moves with unnatural speed and precision to strike out at him. Haafiz briefly considers stepping back afterwards, but decides that it would be best to keep his foe up against the table so that he can't drink the potion without consequences.
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Gunari moves up, grumbling about the rocks everywhere, but glad that he has boots that allow him to move faster. He draws Cayden's Churchkey and moves through the rubble, taking an indirect path that gets him clear faster.
He calls upon the power of Cayden Cailean to enchant his weapon and his armor
He sighs as Haafiz rushes past him.
Thurlok gazes in horror as Haafiz sprints effortlessly over the rocky ground. He tries to take some steps backward, to get out of the way. But all attempts to evade are futile, Haafiz reaches the Oread, and drives his nodachi through him.
"Help..." Thurlok cries, holding his gashing wound. His voice is weak, but the nearby mercenaries become aware of his distress. The mwangi men nod at each other, and start walking towards Thurlok and Haafiz in perfect unison. Vimes, closer of the two, draws his flail as he walks. Bravely, the warrior leads the way past Haafiz, leaving himself open for retaliation.
Stoically, the man receives the wound from the inquisitor's blade, and then stops for his companion to take his position. In similar pattern, Nobbs approaches Haafiz, drawing his flail. Something in the men's movement tells this is all very practiced maneuvers, they move so certainly, know what needs to be done without any communication. Then, both men drop their guisarmes, and Vimes swings his flail.
The metal ball at the flail's end catches Haafiz ankle, and when Vimes suddenly pulls his weapon up, the inquisitor looses his footing. This short-lived fall gives both mercenaries ample time to punish him with their flails. And the wounded Oread follows the example with his dagger.
Miraculously, or perhaps protected by his faith, Haafiz avoid all the blows as he falls down. Shaking his head, Nobbs rises his flail to give the Keleshite a good old-fashioned whacking. And this time, Haafiz' defences fail him and he feels a crushing blow on his chest.
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The old breathes a sigh of relief as his elven friend resists the alluring call of the oread, knowing he could not hope to stand against Lord Moonstep's blade. Before he can give proper thanks to Desna for protecting him once again today, first against the vengeful ghosts of his past and now against his own dear friends, the old man sees Haafiz rush impossibly far across the room. After striking a deadly blow against the oread, Ibid watches as his companion falls amidst the enemies' furiously striking weapons.
He pushes through the rubble clogging his path, far less graceful than Haafiz, but mangers to stop with a line of sight on the foes. In an instant, the old man has drawn and released an arrow.
"We're coming, Haafiz!" he calls as the arrow sails forward. "We're right behind you!"
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Cyrus checks his concern for Haafiz, knowing that yelling out will do nothing to help his kinsman, and will only serve to give away his invisible position.
Of course, that invisible position is one he was planning on giving up in a few short moments anyways. He continues his run along the wall, eyeing the table that splits the space between himself and the three thugs. Instead of going over, he runs around, bringing him uncomfortably close with the one called Vimes.
No sense in a spectacular flip over the table if no one can see me!
Without warning, Cyrus pops back into view with his blade arcing for Vimes' kidney behind the folds of armor.
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"Get off 'im!" he shouts in the man's face, daring him to swing at the Ninja.
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Matching Haffiz's speed, Fianrin moves lithely across the rubble strew floor, his feet barely touching. Seeing his opponents are just too far away, Finarin calls upon the magical assistance of Neyths. .
Magically accelerated one again, Finarin is a blur across the battlefield.
Upon reaching his foe Thurlok, he grins as he swings his scimitar.
"How does that ... feel?"
Thurlok is quite incapable to answer Finarin's question, since the elf's scimitar has just slashed open his throat. The oread falls down, spraying blood all over Finarin's clothing.
Not too far away, Cyrus blinks back into visibility, driving his wakizashi into the soft flesh of the unsuspecting Vimes. Whether the strike actually connected to kidney or not is unclear, but at least Vimes grimaces in pain, breaking his stoic look.
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Haafiz quickly changes his bane to human bane and decides against getting up to face such expert trippers. He instead lashes out from his position on the floor.
"Well, that was some fancy work to get me on the floor... but you will join me soon!" Haafiz declares as he swishes upwards (slightly awkwardly) with his prized nodachi.
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"Haafiz, did I ever tell you about the time that I fought a trollhound while laying on my back? Lemme show you how its down." Though many probably expect Gunari to lay down prone just to show off, he simply calls upon the power of Cayden Cailean to power his blade and attacks.
"Oh, that's gotta hurt!"
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"Trollhound? No you did not say," Haafiz says conversationally as Gunari sprays him with Vimes' blood, "That must have smelled almost as bad as these fiends here."
The Keleshite turns to the last remaining man , "Surrender. There is no hope for you in this fight. If you continue, you will not survive. At least in the chains of justice there is a hope of redemption and release." While Haafiz despises slavery and the loss of freedom in all its forms, incarceration to bring justice is preferable to corporal punishment.
Once again, just like Cayden Cailean Himself, Gunari strides in and delivers a reckless blow which just happens to hit a major artery. Perhaps the clean cut was painless, or perhaps the mercenary is just well-trained, but the dark-skinned man doesn't utter a sound when he is hit. With stoic face he stares back at his killer, and understands his death has arrived.
Nobbs sees companion dropping his weapon, falling down on his knees, and finally collapsing on the floor. Alone, surrounded and outnumbered he hears Haafiz' offer for mercy. At first the Keleshite is not sure if the man understands common at all, but then he looks back, and speaks for the first time here.
"Hadi kufa!"
"To death!"
And then, spinning like a madman, he starts attacking Finarin. One swing of the flail makes the elf loose his footing, and another blow immediately follows - luckily softened by his Ablative barrier. Nobbs spins one more time, but this time flail passes harmlessly over the prone elf.
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Raven continues forward, cursing the stones under his breath, cursing his lack of more solid boots, cursing his allies being damaged while he is out of range. He finally comes within range of the enemy, stabbing his spear over the heads of his allies.
"He has forgone your mercy, it seems, Haafiz."
Unable to strike while avoiding his allies, Raven waits to protect them.
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"You bums just don't learn do you?" Cyrus quips as he dashes straight for the mercenary.
"There just isn't good money in dying."
Cyrus feints right then goes left, hard at the wall behind the thug. With cat-like agility he plants his left foot on the wall and launches himself in a backwards twisting somersault over the man's head, landing deftly on his feet on the other side.
"Now!" he shouts to no one in particular. The target of his indication doesn't really matter, the team is so well oiled he knows someone will step into flanking with him. As soon as the thug is distracted by a second foe, Cyrus slips his blade under his defenses, aiming for the space between his 3rd and 4th rib.
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"Finarin!" the old man shouts, watching Gunari move up to the enemy and removing Finarin's ability to move opposite Cyrus, and therefore, clear of his own shot. "Pull your socks up!" clearly Ibid means that arrows are momentarily incoming, traveling in the elf's direction toward the last foe. The old man can only hope that one stray arrow does not find his friend, and that it is possible for the nimble elf to lash out with a deadly strike, then move to be clear of his shot.
Ibid waits patiently with an arrow drawn and ready to fire, knowing their foe will likely not live long enough for a firing window to open. A momentary twinge of pity passes over for the nearly helpless man, backed into a corner of his own choosing, and on the verge of veritable slaughter.
Cyrus tries to cross the Mwangi with his wallrunning stunt, but the opponent seems to anticipate his every move. Flail swings at the ninja just as he is about to jump over the mercenary, but Cyrus is too fast for him. But in order to dodge the blow, he had to abort his jump - and didn't quite make it to flanking position.
But where Cyrus' stunt and his subsequent attack failed, Gunari and Ibid make it up with their combined force. Two arrows and a rapier strike are more than enough to fell the last warrior.
All would be quiet except for the man in the corner, who matches the description of Sal Durivan. "I be grateful fer ye whackin' 'em bastards, but who the 'ell be you then?"
The mercenaries had each:
potion of cure moderate wounds, potion of enlarge person, potion of vanish, potion of feather step, alchemist’s fire,+1 breastplate, +1 flail, mwk guisarme, composite longbow (+3 Strength) with 20 arrows, cloak of resistance +1, antitoxin
Thurlok had:
potion of cure moderate wounds, potion of displacement, potion of invisibility, scroll of bear’s endurance, scroll of delay poison, scroll of disguise self, wand of remove fear (7 charges) +1 chain shirt, mwk quarterstaff, dagger, shortbow with 20 arrows, belt of giant strength +2,
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Cyrus snarls at the man as he goes down with a couple of arrows in his chest.
What you get for having the gall to interrupt my flip. Better be glad Aya wasn't here to watch me.
Cyrus looks up at Sal, "Pathfinders. Came here looking for you actually. Wouldn't have known about you if not for Arvellos. We actually just rescued him from the same fate. Seems your little book gets lots of people in trouble. I would suggest you come with us for your safety. Tell us what happened to you now?"
Cyrus cleans his blade on the dead thug, electricity arcing from the blade into the dead man's body. The arcs cause the mans legs and arms to twitch as his muscles contract from the passing power.
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Face an uncomfortable shade of red, Finarin rises to his feet, brushing off the pebbles and dust that had accumulated on his clothing as he lay on the floor. Reaching a hand down to Haafiz, Finarin pulls the man to his feet.
"Well that didn't go quite as ... planned. No matter, nice work all."
Turning to Sal, "Well met. I am Lord Finarin Moonstep, though my surname might be in dispute after that last ... encounter." Finarin listens for the man to answer Cyrus's questions as he gives his wand to Gunari.
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Haafiz allows his rage to subside and picks himself up off the floor. "Well, that went quite well. I forget how effective you all are - and Gunari! Quite the replacement for Amaranti you are! Excellent rapier work. I just wish I could have fought the battle from my feet. They are much more effective at bracing my blows than my back."
The Keleshite seems a little winded as he moves over to Finarin to inspect the haul. He quickly grabs a potion of cure moderate wounds and, with a grin on his face, throws the potion of featherstep to Gunari, "For next time Finarin muddies up the battlefield!"
He has a feel of the belt, "Well, this could be most useful. Is anyone else, like me, missing their own version?"
With that sorted out, Haafiz approaches Sal, "I take it you have heard of the Pathfinder Society. My name is Haafiz and we are Pathfinders. The Technic League were your pursuers and after a book called A Thread of Silver. They no doubt traced it to your possession and perhaps realized that you sold this particular book to a man called Arvellos. They want it - at all costs, it seems. Please let us know what you told them and what they told you. Depending upon what they know, they may very well be headed straight to the Lodge. We can protect you there, if you like - but I would not blame you if you wanted to skip town. You are free to do what you will, and you have our best wishes."
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Ibid listens as Haafiz speaks with Sal, nodding in agreement to his words and offer to protect the man at the Lodge. "I'm with the others," he agrees with the urgency implied by the comments of his freinds. "We should get moving. We need to return to protect our own companions, but you are welcome to join us, Sal. The question you must entertain for yourself is... Are you safer with us, though you would certainly be putting yourself in a bit of danger, but would also have us there to protect you? Or are you safer making a run for it on your own?"
"We fear the eye of the Technic League is already turned toward us now," he adds to Sal, trying to express the severity of the decision laid before the man. "But we will be ready, when, or if, they move against us. And we are willing to protect you, if you choose."
"But as Haafiz asked, please let us know what you told them before we arrived, or if they said anything that might have hinted at plans they may have. But be quick, there isn't much time."
"Arvellos, I remember him buying the book. And he sent ye after me? Heh, that's some customer-vendor relationship, innit! I guess the book was pretty hot, then? Should've asked fer higher price, damn." Arvellos tidies himself up, and then proceeds to shake hands with everyone. "So many thanks, once more. Don't know what these chaps would've done in the end. I said I sold the book to Arvellos (who I reckon was a Pathfinder), and that I didn't where the book was now. That's all. "
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Cyrus looks sideways at Finarin, Ibid, and the rest of the pathfinders.
Under his breath he says, "Ahhh... Why did I think he was associated with the pathfinders? Yea, I don't think Sharrowsmith, or Aya would be to happy showing him where the lodge is."
"You know, Sal, I think maybe Ibid has an unintentional point. Taking you with us would certainly put you in harm's way. As far as the technic league is concerned, their investigation of you is complete. Perhaps you would be safer if you just skipped town. It might be best to not tell anyone either."
Cyrus rocks back on his heels and up to his toes with his hands behind his back, hoping that Sal gets the point, and gets out of town.
Sal is more than happy to leave the bar-turned-battlefield, only moving out of his corner without getting his shoes soaked in blood turns out to be difficult. "Cheerio, I be taking me stuff and leave the town, once sun's back up again. I hope this was the last we saw of those buggers." Sal waves the Pathfinders goodbye once they've escorted him back downtown.
The trip back to the lodge is uneventful, even if the adventurers start to feel some threat lurking behind every dark corner. Back at Sharrowsmith's, they hear Aya has gone to Magaambya to search information about the Technic League. Arvellos has occupied one room from the sleeping quarters, and is there resting. Two very long hours pass. Ibid has time to brew a new mutagenic concoction, and the others patrol the premises restlessly. Then, Haafiz and Cyrus spot something odd happening at the Grand Bazaar - a number of customers and merchants have gathered around the fountain, and are watching a young taldan woman dancing atop the fountain and about to start singing.
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"So, Sal, I was just thinking. I represent a coalition of merchants, and we are always looking for discrete merchants to work with, throughout Golarion. You have proven to be such an individual, and we'd be very pleased if you were to join our coalition. I'd consider it a personal favor were you to agree!"
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The old man stands at the table in the library, staring at the strange vial with oddly colored liquid, still releasing a few bubbles here and there. As he has done so many times before, he breaks down and repacks his alchemical supplies, placing each carefully into his pack. Next, he slings his arrow-laded quivers across his shoulders and takes his longbow in one hand. His free hand supports his weight on the table, resting at an angle as he leans over its surface, and he continues to stare at the mutagenic mixtures while waiting for sounds the assault to reach his ears.
Slowly, he exhales a long, ragged breath and tries to calm his nerves before peril descends onto the hidden lodge.
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Finarin rests comfortably on the chair in the luxury appraisal rooms. His mind is a free flowing stream of conscious reviewing the numerous battles that he has fought in since arriving to Natambu. He is feeling very vulnerable having spent many of his resources in their previous engagements.
Just a bit more, then I am off to explore the Magaambya. What secrets have you left there Old-Mage Jatembe?
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Cyrus' attention is first drawn to the dancing woman, but he quickly shakes his head, scanning the crowd. Had it not been for Haafiz scolding him only a moment ago about getting distracted, he might have allowed himself to be more distracted.
He moves inbetween a couple of the buildings, looking specifically for anyone in the crowd who isn't looking at the woman on the fountain.
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Raven pages through book after book in the library, staying opposite the table of the alchemical processes going on. His spear is resting against the wall near the door. He flips through a book, taking in a few pages before returning it and finding another.
Impatient and restless, but needed rest badly.
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Haafiz cranes his neck for a better look at the woman, but knowing that something is bound to be going down at any moment he decides not to take any chances. He reaches into a belt pouch and produces two pre-sized lumps of beeswax and shoves them into his ears .
Haafiz says, far louder than he intends,
Uninterrupted, the young woman begins singing.
"Is our secret safe tonight
And are we out of sight
Or will our world come tumbling down?
Will they find our hiding place
Is this our last embrace
Or will the walls start caving in?"
No particular effect can be seen or heard, except for the approving looks on the spectators. However, inside of the building is not quite as peaceful. While Raven and Ibid cannot quite hear the singing, they see something strange. The stone wall at the back of the lodge starts rippling suddenly. Like liquid, the stone starts taking new form, opening a small hole in the wall. And then more stone moves out of the way, and the hole grows bigger and bigger, until it's big enough for man to pass. And on the other side of the wall indeed stands a man, waving a wand around the ever-growing hole.
The man spots the two Pathfinders, and curses silently. "There's someone here, deal with them!" he whispers, and walks inside. When walking, the man is constantly looking around, as if searching for something. Soon after the first man, another walks in. Dressed in similar mercenary uniform as the men in Copper Buffalo just a few hours ago, he disappears around the corner, keeping his guisarme ready.
And yet a third one passes, but this is no man of flesh and blood. This is a man of metal, like the one the Pathfinders destroyed when rescuing Arvellos.
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Seeing no ill effects from the singing (and unaware of the assault on the Lodge), Haafiz moves over to confer with Cyrus.
"The timing and placement of this singer is most strange, and I have not seen such a crowd gather out here before," Haafiz notes, "Do you think she could be a purposeful distraction? What next, friend?"