Meraxilar seats himself by the nearest window after looking in on the girl he rescued from Dog. He thinks to himself that she needs more time for her mind to strengthen after her ordeal before he can gauge if she would be ready to possibly accept the tenets of Rovagug.
He listens attentively when Janiven or Arael begin to reveal what they have been planning.
The temple now is nearly fully restored with the only things missing being the few relics to Aroden that would normally be commonplace in such a small temple. The furniture is polishes and clean, the dust is almsot completely gone, and for all intents and purposes it's a fully restored worshiping place of Aroden. Yet the pall of sadness remains, the emptiness, the loss. A shrine without its god.
As you all gather on the ground floor you are met by Janiven who spends a short bit of time chatting with you informing you that the Children of Westcrown slowly grows and lists off a number of people whom you never heard of that have joined full time.She's tight lipped about what Arael has planned or he's apparently chatting with upstairs.
As Sclivian finally arrives her stony demeanor finally cracks and Janiven brightens up looking the happiest and most excited since....well since ever. Her own radiant beauty can't hide when she smiles and shares with you in an excited whisper. "We may have found a way to take back our nights! Come there's someone you should meet.”
Beckoning you to follow she takes you to the second floor of the temple where the general quarters and offices are. Like any temple of Aroden this one has a small library dedicated to the history of the temple and its surrounding area. Sadly the books were taken. Thus Arael has turned it into the Haloran League's general planning and meeting room; a place where he can speak privately with others in the group when necessary. As Janiven opens the door to this room still wearing her smile you see Arael inside with a beautiful long haired chelaxian woman with high cheekbones. Her well worn armor and sharp blade speak of a woman used to action and in character with this tshe indeed has ber back to a wall when you enter. Arael smiles and greets all of you warmly.
"Excellent you've all arrived, please have a seat. This is Ailyn Ghontasavos of the Pathfinder Society."
It's no secret that the Pathfinder Society has not been welcome in the Chelaxian empire for quite some time. Just the presence of this woman here means something big is happening.
As above plus you are aware of the lodge located here in Westcrown known as Delvehaven. When the society was forced out the House of Thrune placed a number of deadly wards and creatures to guard it and after a time gave the task of watching it over to the mayor's office. Lots of local legends surround it but to date no one has successfully managed to get in without suffering a painful death.
Shortly after the lodge was closed, the shadowbeasts appeared. Hundreds died within the first few days. Hellknight, Dottari, Soldier and citizen alike fell to their black claws. It was only after decades of fighting them without success that the city managed to settle itself into a policy of curfew and control rather than bloody and fruitless combat.
As you take your seats Janiven shuts the door and stands by it as Ailyn speaks.
"A pleasure to meet you all. I've heard much about you." Her words are careful and tell you of quite a brilliant mind behind the face. Her voice is just deep enough to edge on the sultry. "Let us see if I can place names to the faces and reputations. Pollux I believe is the easiest of you to recognize. I think you'll fit right in for what we have in mind.
Then her gaze moves to Meraxilar. [b]"A man with an axe. Heard you spent some time in Hellsperch. The seeker in me is wanting to know more about that place but I think it'll have to wait."
Then Caldazar. "Milani's roses sprout everywhere in this empire. It's no surprise to see you in Arael's company. I just hope you can temper your goddesses violent tendencies long enough to get the job done. Otherwise I think you'll do well."
Then Sclivian. "I'm a little confused how they figured a lwayer would be of any help here. " She laughs. "You must be pretty good if you can manage to keep a group of rebels alive to even see a courtroom."
Then finally Tal. "Hmmmm, not sure how you'll work out. But considering the reputation..." She pauses not quite sure if she wants to finish.
Ailyn nods. "Very well. Arael and Janiven have told me much about you and I myself have found out much as well. You're capable, brave, and msot importantly not aligned in any way with the House of Thrune or the Pathfinder Society. This last part is important because..." She hesitates not entirely sure to proceed but shrugs and says flatly. "I'm not supposed to be here. The Society has expressly forbid its members from coming near here. Were I found out I'd be expelled without question. So you see now why I've come to ask you for help and not my fellow lodge mates. Tell me, what do you know of Delvehaven?"
knowledge local:
sense motive for the end of her evaluation of Tal: What reputation is that? and if I may be so bold to ask how you know of it? Who has she been talking to that she would know us so well. I thought that we had stayed low enough to avoid unwanted attention. If she knows, that means that others can find out as well. We need to be more careful before we stick our heads in a noose.
Of Delvehaven itself not much. However, rumor has it that when the pathfinders fled that is when the shadow beasts arrived. Whether the shadow beasts are related to the building or to the fleeing of the pathfinders is speculation though. Enough people have died trying to find out that it is a moot point. I am more concerned with why you are here against orders. No self-proclaming pathfinder would set foot in Westcrown voluntarily...
She waves off the first question. "Nothing of your concern. At least it's not your reputation I'm particularly concerned with."
"As to why I'm here it's because I've come to a dead end regarding my research at the Grand Lodge. I was looking into a pair of artifacts that were discovered by two of the society's members over a century ago. Accounts indicate that these artifacts were twins one with power over light. She pauses to ensure the next words have the desired effect. "And one with power over darkness. Back when this city was the capital of Cheliax the pair resided here. There was a great deal of mention about Delvehaven, but as to the fate of the artifacts, and its wielders, none of the records will say. But it gets worse. It's no secret the House of Thrune practices revisionist history."
"Callous oppression." Arael says before stopping himself but Ailyn simply nods and continues.
"It complicates things. What the records do say about Delvehaven are contradictory, that it's been demolished, that it's the summer home of Queen Abrogail, that it was closed down due to an unstoppable torble infestation, overall the information I've found has been next to useless. The only thing I know for sure is that the House of Thrune put a number of powerful wards, traps, and guardians on the place. Which is what brings me here. I need to get into Delvehaven. And I need your help."
Caldazar does not take a seat, preferring to share Ailyn's preference for a back to a wall. He gives a slight nod of the head in acknowledgement of his identification, by means of answer he offers "A rose only bites those who treat it without due care Ailyn."
Listening to her explanation he has no memory or knowledge of Delvehaven personally, but her words shed light into the darkness. Content to listen and mark her words for the moment, he allows the others to inquire.
Knowledge(Local):
Sense Motive:
"I know nothing of the Pathfinder Society in Westcrown past or present, or of Delvehaven for that matter, beyond it being an old ruin. It is obvious that Janiven and yourself might be thinking this artifact with power over darkness may help with the creature situation that haunts the streets at night. You say your research is also at a dead end, is that all you want the artifact for? To further your own ambitions? For someone to go against their order for something this risky would lead me to believe that their actions might be more for personal gain than altruism. What stake do you have in Westcrown?
You also know a good deal about us, this troubles me as I have gone to great lengths to keep my own existance a little less known, especially considering my house's ruin many years ago.
No insult intended of course, I merely want to put my apprehensions to rest before I place myself at risk for someone like you. As you say, I have indeed spent a time at Hellsperch. My years there have made me somewhat... cautious. I'm sure you can understand that."
"She knows because she's been talking to us." Arael says. "Understand that our group is still small even for all the growth it's experiencing. We could not rightly introduce her to all without putting everyone at risk should one or more of us be captured. We selected you adn you alone for the task ahead. Not enough people are aware of you to make any connections, and your skilled enough to survive the performance."
"I don't even know I want the artifact." Ailyn says. "The reports I did find on the artifact of light described driving the possessor mad. As for my true purpose? The Society's purpose is gather knowledge. Much of that was lost when the House of Thrune took over Cheliax after the civil war. My goal is to retrieve what I can and put a lid on this mystery once and for all. If it bloodies the nose of house thrune, frees the night from the shadowbeasts, and gains you the resources within Delvehaven to use at your disposal. Well I think we can all agree that is to the benefit of every man woman and child in the city is it not?"
Picking up on one of the words spoken, Caldazar presses Arael "Performance?"
Likewise, Tal will lift an eye at Arael's mention of the word performance. Tal will remain silent though until more is stated. The thoughts running through his mind are not good ones at the moment. Performance at what exactly...and how does my reputation not quite fit with all of this.
perception to follow Ailyn's eyes and mannerisms
sense motive on both Arael and Ailyn for performance...
Afterwards, Tal will approach Ailyn and question again what his reputation may be.
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"Merely an agreement between a temple in need of funding and a patron in need of redemption. Really, though, I've probably said too much," Sclivian responds to Tal's inquiry about the contract.
He looks askance at Arael. "I did say 'redemption,'" he preemptively retorts.
Sclivian remains silent throughout Ailyn's explanation, cracking merely the slightest of smirks at her assessment of him.
Instead of answering her general questions, Mr. Ruttle simply abides.
Pollux bows deep to the guest a small wooden ball carved with masks of comedy and tragedy falls from his pocket as he does so.
"This is truly a house of traitors and the dead! We are happy to meet you and spend some of you short time remaining with us." I have heard of your home of once was but very little as to why."
Listening to the twice-traitor from out of town.
"You wish us to perform? Shall we caper and dance for the amusement of our betters? The strange vagabond attempts a simple two-step and falls when he steps on the errant carved ball. "Shall we do tricks?" While lying on the floor Pollux inexpertly produces a fan of cheap harrow cards. "Pick a card!" On inspection it can be seen that about a third of the cards are face up and many are colorfully stained or stuck together. The end card may even be slightly smouldering.
"Or if you look for bright and dark you should speak to the man with the large nose. He is in charge of lights at the opera house. I made him some candles. The smell washed off, eventually."
Pollux looks up at the guest and smiles. Helpfulness and too many teeth clearly visible.
Arael is about to speak when Janiven interrupts. Ailyn just stares in confusion at the prone Pollux on the floor.
"Well the trouble with trying to get into the place is that we'd probably die in the attempt. Ailyn told us there is a key to the wards on the door. The mayor has it. But that leads to another problem, you'd have to get into his house, somehow evade all his guards and servants, then get into extra dimensional vault, and sneak out without getting noticed."
Before you speak up about your total lack of stealth Arael interjects. "But that's not the plan we're going for. The mayor's love for the theatre is infamous. To the point where he's spending ruinous amounts of the cities money to build the nightshade theatre. What we wish to do is take advantage of that.
As he finishes Ailyn pulls out a large poster for the Six Trials of Larazod. On it is a small advertisement by the famous director Robahl Nonon.
Wanted: 5 adventurous people to play the part of Larazod and his four companions. Witless, weak, cowardly, sour stomached, and desperate need not apply.
You also
know that the mayor is a massive theatre fanboy. This showing of the controlversial play is simply one in his many attempts to bring "culture" back to Westcrown. Considering that, perhaps it's none too surprising at all if he did insist on inviting you to his manor for an days long party involving gallons of alcohol, a potential orgy, and the decadence only the dark and desperate nobility would have.
knowledge local
Tal thinks he remembers seeing the mayor once, but that is all he can recollect of the man.
Wait 1 minute here. You actually expect me to try out for some play. Maybe a guard at the front doors, or a body guard to one of the actors maybe. But me actually be on stage, don't be rediculous. Granted I am definitely not weak, cowardly, or desperate, but I am not the most charming of individuals at the best of times and as Caldazar can attest I am usually down right insolent. Tal will shut up and just glower at the 3 on the other side of the room while the details are presented.
Caldazar's eyebrow raises further in an incredulous manner. What is the catch? - why are they choosing us over some fop that could actually act...
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Mr. Ruttle chuckles. "I hadn't paid much attention to theater in the past, that's true, but oh yes, the Mayor would be a Larazod fan, now, wouldn't he? Gentlemen, the trick to understanding Larazod in this context isn't in the performance, per se, although you should be careful with it, but in the gala. We'd have little chance of breaking into the Mayor's manor on our own, but if we were to perform... we'd be invited. Tell me more, Ailyn... This should be quite intriguing."
Knowledge (Local):
Meraxilar listens to the discussion with little interest. I have done many things in my life but theater is not one of them. I have spent time keeping myself out of noble eyes, I do not wish to be thrust into the limelight just yet.
" Out of curiousity, do any of the roles of this murderplay require the wearing of a mask?"
"As far as I know, no." Ailyn says. "But Sclivian has the right of it. If you survive the play and if you satisfy the demands of the job, hells, you'll become famous all through Cheliax getting an invite from the mayor as guests of honor is a given. Arael's told me you have the charisma and the necessary fortitude to survive it."
Pollux looks up from the floor. "You mean this play? he asks holding us a dog-eared copy of The Six trials of Larazod.
"If it is then I see what the twice-traitor means about surviving. The list of bodies is longer than the book."
Pollux rolls onto his stomach, cards forgotten, and looks directly into the face of Castor who has temporarily given up trying to eat the carved ball. "Tell me Castor, do I have charisma and fortitude?"
You clearly see the rat shake his head.
Pollux looks up at the pathfinder. "Signs do not look good. Please tell us more. Maybe you can convince Castor."
I think she is referring to Castor as the one with charisma and fortitude, Pollux, not yourself. Not that I am that charismatic either mind you.
Caldazar is driven to pause by Pollux's words, but the opportunities that may arise from being within the mayor's abode are too juicy to pass up.
"If we get the job. Whoever is staging this play will need to be affected or desperate to take us on... though I'm willing to gauge that in person for what is at stake."
"The ad's been out for a few days." JAniven notes. "He's likely desperate enough to take anyone who can survive the play. Afterall he did promise the mayor that the full, uncut, version of the play would be performed. It sounds like he's not so much looking for actors as people that can keep moving after taking twenty lashes."
Arael appears physically sickened. "I don't like it. Were me and Janiven not recognizable and if Ailyn were not already takin extreme risks we would have done this ourselves. And if you don't do it, likely they'll hire some desperately bad actor or farmboy with a rusty sword who thinks he's an adventurer."
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Sclivian cocks an eyebrow. "You keep saying 'survive the play.' This must be an odd performance if the question remains whether the participants survive or not. Normally, the artistic vision is maintained by being sure of the outcome, one way... or the other."
He turns to Pollux. "Pollux, what is it about Larazod that makes it uncertain? I've heard of its bloody nature, but why and how is it undetermined who survives?"
The 20 lashes, while significant, would not be my undoing. What else is there in store for those that 'volunteer' for this charade? Imean first we are trying to stay out of sight and avoid being detected. Now you want to thrust us in the spotlight so every action that take from here on will be scrutinized and examined. If this play is as popular and heralded as you describe, we won't be able to buy food with out people surrounding us.
All that being said, I am not worried about surviving. On a more personal level, what type of funding and support would something like this provide? I ask not for myself directly for for my wife Lily. If there is a chance that I could set her up financially, then I would be most interested even if all they need is a warm body at the end of the play...and by warm I mean still alive.
"It does sound more as like a bloodsport than urbane theatre"
If that is the case then I would have no qualms about participating. I could go for a few rounds after sullying myself with the hit and run tactics last week. I like the sound of this the more I hear about it. If this is the case then where do I go to start knocking some heads? Sign me up.
He turns to Pollux. "Pollux, what is it about Larazod that makes it uncertain? I've heard of its bloody nature, but why and how is it undetermined who survives?"
"It's both." Arael says in response to Caldazar. "You are expected to be performing while being subjected to torture and torment. The monsters are real, the torture's are real. In short it is a blood sport. In fact to date no one has ever survived a showin of the full version. To answer your question sclivian traditionally the play is finished with illusions representing the dead actor's ghosts. Trtuh beyond death if you will."
Responding to Arael "Torture and torment I can endure... and perhaps even inflict some of the same upon the audience given the quality of my performance" wryly stated.
"When and where do we meet the desperate man?" inquiring as to when auditions are to be held.
Meraxilar perks up at the thought of a public spectacle that contains torment and torture. "This murderplay sounds like utter chaos, I can almost feel Sclivian cringing already. I'm in."
Merax smiles slightly.
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Straightening his neck kerchief, Mr. Ruttle gives Meraxilar a wan grin before responding to Arael. "Yet that indicates that if we were to survive, then the artistic vision would be compromised, thus labeling us poor actors, and not attending any associated gala. And if we are true to the performance, we should perish, and once again not be invited."
He fixes Arael with a glare before shrilly probing, "So by what combination of events would we ever expect to receive the invitation to the Mayor's residence?"
Arael looks at Sclivian with some confusion. "Are you suggesting you intentionally die during the performance?"
"I think he's worrying too much over the details." Ailyn says. "Believe me when I say artistic vision has very little to do with it. Do you think gladiators are graded based upon the number of limbs severed in a match? Likely not. The same applies here. Besides everything we've seen of Robahl so far suggests he's out for actors that can survive all seven acts. He's promised to deliver the full package, and that means people who can handle themselves in a fight. So in that sense consider yourself working for the directors vision."
"You mean the one that's been dead for over a century? I don't think he particularly cares right now. We're not trying to get you an invite from him." Arael says curiously.
Pollux, reading the novel, calls up from the floor. "Eww, that looks messy. What do you think Tic-man, would you expect that?"
Pollux hands the book to the karcist. A stained finger indicating an especially nasty passage.
It was only then that he vomit. Draining the contents of the priests terrible egg in one cleansing heave from his body. He crawled away from the writhing gelatinous mass as it curdled and moaned with the sounds of a thousand screaming damned. Larazod heard Dentris cry out in fear as he turned to see the old wizards greatest fears emerge from the puddle with a sickening wet pustule like burst.
Quickly gathering his wits about him, with the taste of bile and worst at the back of his throat Larazod drew his blade and stared into the emerging horror before him. Gritting his teeth through the sting of a hundred salted lashes he prepared to face this latest of Haanderthan's horrors with the scything blade of his truth.
Providing that Sclivian reads the passage aloud, A hundred lashes is more than I expected, but possibly manageable. What monstrosity are they referring to by priest's eggs though? That is what bothers me. Tal gives an involuntary shudder at the thought of consuming something so vile as to hatch before your eyes in such a manner.
Grimacing as thoughts of Pollux's special charms during the fight with Palaveen make their way back to the surface Caldazar chokes down the burning bile in his throat. In a measured voice "Sounds lovely... the end better be worth the means if this is but a fragment of the performance..."
Hopefully this is near the end of the play as I would hate to have the opeing act be the 100 lashes
"Sounds like act 5" Ailyn muses. "That's just before Act 6, where they fight off a horde of demons. The lashings are Act 2, where he's tortured by one of the characters. Act 3 involves some kind of pleasure flukes, and act 4 is getting eaten alive by a serpent whose stomach acid washes away lies."
Fighting the horde of demons sounds like fun. The torture can be bearable depending on the type of torture. No idea what the 'pleasure flukes' are but doesn't sound too bad. Being eaten alive to wash away lies...too complicated by far, but if you can survive the acid then I suppose it would be nice and peaceful in there.
Turning to Ailyn and Arael, Merax speaks up. "Are we to audition for this mayhem, or have arrangements been made with a contact at the theater?"
"Mmmmm...Anyone else want eggs for lunch?"
speaks up. "...a contact at the theater?"
"I know a few people. I could put the word out if you like."
Do we really want the word of Pollux to vouch for us or would that be a detriment to our chances.
I am sure any contact you may have Pollux would provide valuable information to us. This information may not be of aid directly, but it can't hurt our chances. I don't know if you would be able to get us the part though on your contacts alone.
I am sure that I can talk Lily into agreeing with this charade if it would have a chance at reclaiming the night. It would be nice to talk a walk at tnight without having to worry if some beast was gong to rip your throat out. Where do we need to go to audition and when?
"I am sure that I can talk Lily into agreeing with this charade if it would have a chance at reclaiming the night. It would be nice to talk a walk at night without having to worry if some beast was gong to rip your throat out. Where do we need to go to audition and when?"
Pollux is filling the carved eyes on the little ball with cheese and letting Castor gnaw them empty again.
"I never worry about the inevitable. I wonder if that is why people look at me that way? Hmmmmm"
To Twice-traitor
"So so say we merry band of players happen to survive this pain-filled play what then? You mentioned a vault that is and is not in the palace. Are we hoping that it is open and clearly marked or is there a second act to this play outside a play?"
Caldazar has nothing to add to the questions alreday posed, so merely sits back and assesses Ailyn.
Sense Motive:
"That we're not sure of." Ailyn admits. "We haven't gotten the floor plans for Aberian's folly yet. But, the trouble with extradimensional spaces is that they can be hidden quite literally anywhere. Behind a painting, under a candlestick. And even when you find it it might ahve very specific triggers to open, a command word, a key, a specific time of the day, a phase of the moon, the scent of a specific kind of perfume. Magic is nothing if not tricky. You might be spending days trying to find it."
"Which is why having an invitation to stay at the mayor's is so important." Arael chimes in. "His party's can last for days and servants of his won't bat an eyelash if one or more of you are stumbling about messing with the furniture."
"Then there's the guests." Janiven says. "We don't have the contacts in the upper class to be making the kind of inquiries you'd be capable of in that situation. Chances are his fellow party goers will let something slip after a few hours of sipping wine made from the back breaking labor of slaves." Janiven practically snarls the last words.
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"What a wondrously inefficient way to produce wine," Sclivian mutters.
Sclivian considers, "Well, barring the use of arcane sight throughout the complex to locate the tether to this dimensionality, interrogating the partygoers would be the best option. Let us just hope our fans don't ask for an encore."