Albrέkt returns his cold gaze to the newcomers;
"I vud ask of you a favour... Sinze ve are now allies. Your Baron... could he prokure a magisch bag... Vun zhat can akommodate all der treasure you vil find for him..."
The armoured wretch flashes his crooked fangs;
"... und zwo vampyrs he need nicht know of."
Haruk turns his gaze to Rose "You are a priestess, correct? Of a power in service to our Dark Father? I have need of somebody fluent in the rituals of Hell and it's King."
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"More like solidifying and strengthening my current pact. Did you think I got my devilish good looks by accident? Come, I need Xanos' help as well, as he is rather proficient with a knife"
Albrέkt's smile fades as mulls the situation;
"Fräulein... You are asking for yourzelf Ja? Der Baron vil schurely helfen his two favourit agents? I vil of korse give koin..."
The vampyr then shrugs nonchalantly;
"However I kan schpeak to the Old Teufel myself... Perzaude him..."
When Rose confronts Xanos about his name, he watches on with sudden renewed interest. Surely not, but it would explain the vampires and the boldness of their efforts so far...
The towering vampyr lumbers to a strongbox in the corner of the room, then retrieves a sack.
As he hefts the bag of coin the creature spins quickly at Rose's words, cracked teeth beared;
"He is Der Old Vun! Das Nekromantin! Der beginn und Der Ende!"
The one-handed man looked up from his work as the group walked in to his room. A collection of odds and ends were strewn across the table. He was putting a severed hand into a glove. The hand was helping, it's fingers flexing to adjust the fit.
"Thank you, Albrekt." he nodded before turing his attention to Rose.
"Would it matter if I told you I was? Is that not exactly what an imposter would say?"
The undead brute bows his head reverently at Xanos' words before offering a sack to Rose;
"5000 Goldmünzen und a somezhing to claim as gewinn... prize from our larder to assist your perzaution of Der Baron..."
Inside the sack is indeed 5000 gold and ten “double eagles” minted to celebrate the birth of Bellinda, Princess of Talingarde, eighteen years ago. These large coins are solid gold and weigh a pound each (50gp each – 500gp in total). They are meant to be used as official rewards to non-military personnel.
Albrέkt eyes the priest as he hands over the coin;
"If he tricks me I vill butcher everyvun in hist haus. You know this. Ja?"
Xanos' face clouded. His anger was sudden and glacial. His lips curled in a vicious, hateful sneer and the air in the room grew noticeably colder. His voice was a whisper that tore it's way from between clenched teeth. "Is that what you were taught? And you believed them?"
"They paint me as the betrayer. Fine. I care not. They will die regardless of whether they still remember the truth. Their self delusions will not save them. It will only doom more of them. I remember. That is enough."
It took clear effort for him to calm himself.
"Virtue, yes. Mine, yes. The rest is a lie. They took her as a sacrifice. They killed her to appease Him. He took her. He slept. Thee drought ended and the rains came again. They traded Him her life for theirs.."
"We are currency to the gods. Our lives pay for their power. They owe us all for every life taken for their petty games."
"That is who I am. A debt come calling."
"Of course. I would be fool not to. I simply understand them. I have slaughtered the followers of Mitra in countless ways, from the lowliest acolytes to high angels. I have been defeated many times, but never permanently. Why do you think that is? I can tell you."
"There is a reason Mitra is faceless."
"It took me quite a while to figure it out. You see, Mitra likes me. I am good for recruitment. Every time I would lay waste to them, the survivors would become more zealous and more warlike. In a roundabout way, it is my fault the house of Darius was able to seize the throne. They never could have done it if they had not spent years tempering themselves on me. Destroying me permanently robs Mitra of an adversary his followers can relate to."
"That is why I went into hiding. I did not want to be part of His games any longer. I suppose he got tired of waiting and decided to come to me. I did not expect that. I should have. He needs me."
"That is why I was not killed when I was captured. I was intended to be moved. Put on display and executed in the capital. A final showing of Mitra's supremacy to consolidate his power here. Or, a way to goad me into action, to give this generation it's fear of me. He has been waiting for five generations. Today, his followers have all but forgotten me. I am a myth to them."
"It is no mistake that the first thing Markadian the Victor did upon his ascension to the throne was to come here and wipe out the Sons of the Apocalypse. He was looking for me."
"Poetic how it comes full circle."
"We shall, but I request only you and Xanos be in the room for this. It is a scarred ritual, and I wish no others to bear witness."
"I can take a hint," Molasbar says to Haruk. "I have a few things to do myself." When he says it, though, his gaze is still on Xanos as the half-orc puzzles through his exchange with Rose.
Molasbar steps out of the room, checking around one more time for anyone lingering in the hall that may be eavesdropping. Then he quickly leaves the inn, moving about to get supplies for the trek.
Before he leaves, Molasbar accepts the sack of treasure, enjoying the heft of it. He removes his pack long enough to put the money in the largest compartment.
Haruk takes off his shirt, revealing solid, wiry muscles. "Xanos, I need you to etch Asmodeus' symbol onto my chest, while Rose performs a ritual further binding me to the Dark Father's service"
You did not choose the path to evil; it quite
literally chose you. You are the selected arbiter of
your god’s will in the mortal realm. Your unholy
symbol is fused to your blood, bone, and indeed
your very spiritual essence. To remove or destroy
this holy symbol would mean your death. Your
will is shackled inexorably to that of your god,
and your reward is power and purpose that others
can only dream of.
Prerequisites: Cleric of an evil deity.
Benefit: You are a chosen avatar of your deity.
The symbol of your deity is etched into your skin
by ritual scarification, a gruesome birthmark of
sorts that symbolizes your rebirth into the service
of your god. This mark functions in all ways
as an unholy symbol. When you use your unholy scar to channel negative energy, the DC for living
creatures to resist full damage is increased by 2.
In addition, your unholy scar makes you aware
of any action or item that could adversely affect
your standing with your deity, including magical
affects, as phylactery of faithfulness.
Special: You may not forsake your deity’s
tenets. If you directly defy your deity or go one
week without prayer (such as the daily ritual to
prepare your divine spells), you are effected by bestow
curse (GM’s discretion). The second time you
are permanently blinded. If you commit a third
offense, you lose all powers granted by your Avatar
of Evil feats. An atonement may negate previous
offenses at the GM’s discretion. Only a miracle
can remove the unholy scar and allow a reformed.
Xanos raised an eyebrow. "How is that I always end up surrounded by zealots?" he muttered to himself.
His long-suffering sigh was one of the most normally human things he'd done in quite a while. He drew a skinning knife.
"The chest? Not the forehead? Or some other cliched location for a villainous scar?"
"For somebody who is supposedly an ancient, centuries old, legendary villain of near mythical status, you can sure be whiny sometimes, Xanos." The Infernal sorcerer says to the old necromancer in a mostly teasing manner.
Xanos chuckled. "I am only human."
"You may wish to bite down on something. Also, do you prefer a particular color?"
"As cliche as it might be, black. Asmodeous favored colors are red and black, and as you can see, I have the red part covered."
He turns to Rose "I am well aware, but I have already pledged myself to him in both deed and word. This is just a furtherance of my vows."
Xanos nodded and unrolled his alchemical kit, retrieving a black powder and a clear ointment. "You will want to lay on the bed. Proper scarification is not a quick endeavor." he said as he mixed the two substances together into a dark paste.
"Rose, I will be cutting his skin off in narrow strips. First I will cut a line. Then a second in parallel. Then I will flense the skin between them. Your tasks are twofold. When I am performing the initial cuts, blot and press to staunch the bloodflow. When I have lifted off a strip, layer in this ointment. Do not worry about being neat. It will stop the bleeding and aid the scarification process, but it will not stain or harm the nearby skin."
As the others disperse to broker deals with coins or souls Albrέkt, eyes the other vampire;
"Ze did nicht invite us Nachtlied. Best ve leave zhem alone Ja?"
Haruk spits out the oath between gritted teeth, as Xanos carves the Dark Father's holy symbol into his chest.
Once the necromancer is finished with his handiwork, Haruk gets up slowly. He looks down to the new markings of Asmodeus and smiles. "Already, I can feel an increase of power coursing through my veins."
Xanos had managed to carve away the entire symbol of the Bladed Pentacle without breaking it. The single stingy collection of skin sat on the table in a small steel bowl. Xanos washed it along with his knives, blotted it dry, rolled it up in a sheet of parchment, and put it in a scroll case.
"You should let it heal naturally for the best scar results. Accepting magical healing will likely result in us having to do additional cuts. The ointment Rose applied contains a number of natural tissue growth reagents, but I estimate it will still be a week before the tissue is healed enough to be exposed. For now, keep the wound exposed to the air until the ointment hardens with the scab. Then, bandage it. Change the bandage daily and apply more ointment. If the bandage becomes stuck to the scab, do not pull it free. Come to me, I will help you get it free without breaking the scab."
Albrέkt's brow furrows as he mulls Sariana's question;
"A little. He is Der Old Vun. Ancient even. Der beginn und Der Ende..."
The armoured brute shrugs nonchalantly, then nods to the night;
"Komm. I vil show you how I feed..."
When the group gathers at the appointed meeting spot, Molasbar gives them the news.
"The item will be procured. There is nothing of the sort nearby, so it will take a week or more to arrive. I trust that isn't an issue?"
He looks directly at Xanos when he adds "I will provide our first report back to him then. Between now and then, consider what you would, and would not, like reported back."
Xanos nodded, keeping his own council regarding Molsabar's comment. The phrasing was interesting. Asmodeans were very adept at playing all sides of any situation. Xanos was not foolish enough to believe that the Baron's agents were firm allies, but these two showed surprising resourcefulness already. As long as their goals were aligned, competence was more important than trustworthiness. Still, it was clear that Molsabar was either a very adept manipulator, or was honestly trying to ingratiate himself. Perhaps both.
Just after sunset, they left the city. Xanos seemed quite a bit more invigorated compared to the wretch he had been on the boat. His eyes were clear and inquisitive again. His focus was back.
A gauntlet hung from a ring on the right side of his chest. From it ran a chain that connected to the bracer on his good wrist.
A sated Albrέkt returns having worn the skin of Dosten, the barbaric member of the 7th Knot, to commit his murder most bloody.
At Molesbar's news he flashes a crimson smile;
"Gud news indeed. Vun week schud suffice."
As preparations gather momentum, the hulking vampyr defaults to lurking by Xanos' shoulder ready to do the necromancer's fell bidding when called upon.
"Do ve valk or travel by schteed?"
"We walk until we are no longer in sight of the town then we ride. You can call your beast soon."
Rose remembers to buy a buckler. If people decide to ride with animals, she will also acquire a horse for the journey.
Reuniting with Molasbar, she leans in for a whispered conversation. "Remember, we may have an alliance with these folks, but we do not know their true plans. We'll need to watch each others' backs."
"I agree. I want more decisive action against the Mitrans than the baron was willing to take, but the risks are greater as well, and we have much to learn about our co-conspirators."
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Sariana's sharp ears catch a little of the conversation between the Baron's agents, but she does nothing, simply loping on through the darkness. She internally chafes at the slow speed of the others.
Once they leave town and the various horses are arranged Sari declines a mount and simply runs, keeping pace easily with the horses in the darkness. She lopes mostly alongside Albrekt, admiring his steed. Finally she speaks. "Why do you feed as you do? There was much effort expended and blood lost." Her tone is curious rather than censorious. "It is very different to how I was taught."
Haruk overhears the conversation between their new 'allies', but stays silent for now. He will talk to Xanos about what he heard later, should it be necessary.
The party heads out of town, moving south through the farms that surround Farholde until you reach the edge of the great forest, Caer Bryr.
The trees here are tall and broad. The thick-trunked baobab tree, unusual in such a wet clime, is common here and grows to enormous size. It is not uncommon to see trees hundreds of feet tall with trunks twenty feet across. To walk into the deep Briar is to enter the domain of giants.
Every flat surface is covered with brilliant green moss and lichens in every hue. Mushrooms of a million sorts proliferate and crowd every fallen log. Small animal life
is dense -- squirrels, voles, mice and white-faced ghost monkeys. Birds dwell here in endless variety and dazzling panoramas of plumage are everywhere on display.
It is a bountiful place rich and thriving with nature’s splendor.
In the distance are the great stone spires. They proliferate everywhere in this jungle, rising hundreds of feet above the forest floor. One of which is the Horn or Abaddon
Your journey is uneventful, as you follow the map towards the spire you believe holds the Horn. Eventually, as the sky begins to brighten the approaching dawn, you reach your destination. A towering stone spire choked with vegetation, like so many of the others you passed in the night.