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"While magic is not my specialty, I agree that reciting the lessons, or something related, is likely the key to opening this door, through which we shall likely face our final trial. It is time to make our preparations."
He extends his staff toward Etna. "Would you be so kind as to hold this for me?" Once relieved of his weapon, Ottakar removes and pockets his cufflinks, then calmly rolls his shirtsleeves up to reveal sinewy arms. Next he removes his spectacles and places them in a small hardwood case which he similarly stores in a pocket. So prepared, he takes out a large brass syringe and taps the needle to remove any air bubbles within.
"This may be... disturbing." Without further hesitation, he injects the 'medicine' into his arm. The effect is immediate, as his muscles begin to spasm and enlarge, his face twists in obvious pain. Even as his nails lengthen into long, curved claws, he hastily removes and quaffs the contents of another pair of vials, one after another. The growth begins to occur vertically as well; limbs and torso lengthen, and his jaw juts and twists, making room for rows of razor-sharp teeth more commonly found in the maw of a nocturnal predator.
When all is done, taking mere seconds to complete, the Doctor is completely transformed. He now stands taller than Grumblejack, easily twelve feet, his head brushing the ceiling. His icy blue eyes have turned glowing amber, and his skin has obviously thickened and grown a layer of grey fur. His fangs and claws are as long as swords, his jaw powerful enough to crush a man's skull.
"Now," comes the low, deep growl, "let us open that door."
Init +4;
AC 18, touch 9, flat-footed 18 (+3 armor, +2 natural, +4 shield, -1 size)
Ref +3
Offense
Melee 2x claw +7(1d8+7) and bite +7 (2d6+7)
Statistics
Str 25, Dex 11, Int 18
CMB +9, CMD 19
Skills Acrobatics +5, Climb +9, Disable Device +5, Sleight of Hand +5, Stealth +1, Swim +7
"Yes, no problem-" Etna starts when the doctor handles her the staff, only to trail off in confusion when the doctor retrieves the syringe. Averting her gaze when Ottakar injects the mutagen, the ifrit then stares with a mix of incredulity and terror at the mutated form of the doctor.
"How...how did you do that?" Etna manages to say after moving her mouth uselessly for a couple of times, her hair having lost some of their color.
Supposing that the doctor transformation wouldn't last much, Etna opens the cabinet hoping to find to a way to open the door as soon as possible.
Opening the cabinet, the flame-haired ifrit sees that most of the pigeonholes are empty; only one currently has a scroll in it, in the top left-most corner. Then, as she watches, another scroll appears as if by magic silently, in the bottom right-most corner.
This scroll has the Cardinal's handwriting at the top: "Time spent acquiring expendable resources is never wasted."
It is a scroll of Infernal Healing
As he witnesses the doctor’s transformation, Felrin’s face breaks into a grin that manages to be both feral and appreciative. ”I see I am not the only one who…changes.” His gaze seems to turn inward for a moment, and he shudders slightly. Abruptly, patches of gray scale begin to spread over his skin, and a sharp, bone crest rises from his forehead, running over his skull and down his neck and spine, finally extending into a long, whiplike tail. His dull gray hide is scattered with dark spots and, unfortunately, gives off a nauseating stench. He gives the doctor a nod and says, through a mouthful of sharp teeth, ”Ready.”
As Etna studies the scroll case, Felrin turns his attention to the door, pulling out his tools and studying it carefully.
Felrin encounters... nothing. There are no devices which may be disabled: no lock, no key, nothing. The door (steel and adamantine) is simply there. It's clear that the only way to open it is by magic - but how?
In response to Felrin's probing, the lettering on the door glows more intensely.
Etna retrieves the leftmost scroll, and reads it contents to the rest of the forsaken. Immediately after that, the ifrit takes in her hands the second scroll: moving to Erevan (by far the most wounded), she starts reading the scroll, chanting the arcane syllables. A few moments later, an unsettling aura and a faint scent of brimstone envelops the golden-eyed man, slowly stitching his wounds.
"Is everyone ready?" the ifrit asks to the others, before moving closer to the door (but behind Felrin and the monstrous doctor) and reciting the Nine Lessons, in the rapid and guttural tongue of the Nine Hells
Following the herd is for fools. Fear not their icy derision. Instead, fear only thy Infernal Lord.
Our Infernal Father does not tolerate failure.
Cruelty is a tool, not a pastime. Reward those who serve thee, punishing those who fail.
The Chosen are revealed by their might. The weak deserve no sympathy.
Suffer not the fool to live. Stupidity is our faith's cardinal sin.
Beware those below you, for they may become mighty in time.
Secrecy is our ally. Exposure bringeth nought but death.
Every ambition can be achieved by those who are determined to advance in the service of Asmodeus.
As Etna recites the lessons, the wording on the door begins to glow, from black through to orange and then to red... but as she reaches the end, something goes wrong: instead of the glow increasing in intensity, it fades rapidly, returning to black in a matter of moments.
The door remains stubbornly shut.
Turning from the door in frustration, Felrin reads Thorn’s message over Etna’s shoulder, not noticing the look on her face from his stench as he moves closer. ”The final Lesson…” he says in a slightly sibilant voice, ”is it the nine layers of Hell? No, that doesn’t seem right, it does seem it should be in the final line. But perhaps is not ambition that is the final lesson, but service to Asmodeus.” His hideous face breaks into a gentle, crooked smile and his eyes glow with fervor and he adds, ”Yes, service to Asmodeus is a lesson for us all.”
His hideous face breaks into a gentle, crooked smile and his eyes glow with fervor and he adds, ”Yes, service to Asmodeus is a lesson for us all.”
If ever a door could raise an eyebrow in contempt, it is this door, and it would be at Felrin's efforts.
A more rational light shines in Felrin's eye and he says, "I get it! It is about service, but you have to read down the lines! The first letter of each line, when you read them down! They say 'Serve well and be rewarded."
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Tkaara can use the Infernal Healing without an check, I think it is also a sorcerer/wizard spell.
Tkaara mulls over the other lessons.
Deceive. Lead. Fear. Failure. Punish. Power. Wisdom. Control. Stealth.
So, what is the ninth lesson? We have a list of the levels of Hell. What is the ninth lesson?
Tkaara turns to the door.
The Ninth Lesson is Order.
Felrin is correct: as he recites the line "serve well and be rewarded" again - this time in Infernal - the writing on the door glows, growing more and more intense, from black, orange, red, purple, white... and then something beyond white, painful to look at. With a flash, the iron and adamantine door simply burns out of existence, leaving a certain amount of smoke and some seared retinas.
As the air clears and the heat haze dies down, you see someone on the other side of the door. Someone familiar. It's Sir Balin, in full plate and with his holy symbol of Mitra - made of silver and sapphire - around his neck. He has just had time to draw his sword, but his heavy steel shield is leaning against the wall and he will have to do without it for now. He looks gratifyingly stunned. "You - the Forsaken of Mitra - you have put me here?! I know not by what vile magics you have accomplished your escape, or imprisoned me, but to my last breath I will fight you!"
He glares at you all, particularly Ottakar; whom he seems to have no trouble whatsoever recognising.
Etna
Ottakar
Sir Balin
Erevan
Felrin/Tkaara
Etna's surprise quickly turns into a sneer as her hair roar, blossoming in a burst if flame.
"I was expecting something dangerous, not a maniac that is only an expert in finding excuses to lay his hands on young ladies." the ifrit comments with a voice full of contempt while summoning a pool of slicky grease under the paladin's feet. She needed someone to vent her anger on for Hecate's death, on Sir Balin looked like the perfect candidate.
""
Felrin has less of a history with Sir Balin than some of the other Forsaken, less of a personal reason to hate the man. But the paladin is such an embodiment of Mitran self-righteousness that Felrin's blood boils all the same. Presented with an opportunity to strike, to do physical harm to this Mitran, to make him bleed and die, Felrin growls in furious, raw hatred. He instinctively calls on the Lord of the Ninth to guide his strikes, then lashes out ferociously with tooth and claw!
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Tkaara's eyes twinkle when she sees Sir Balin.
Good afternoon master inquisitor. It is great regret that we must now execute judgment upon you. Had you simply stayed at home, this all could have been avoided. Unfortunately, you have made a rather poor decision.
Suddenly, she has a rather unpleasant thought.
Oh, and just so that you know. You little friend Timeon. We are going to train him to be all that you wished you were. Except that he will be fighting for the winning team.
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If Sir Balin is still up when we get to him, Tkaara will 5' step forward to P11 with her mace raised to strike around the corner. As she does this, her eyes once more roll back into her head, but unlike the prior times when stars appeared, this time it is more like the northern lights, a cold array of color begins to swirl about her head before shooting out into the room encompassing Sir Balin and anyone foolish enough to have gotten behind Sir Balin.
Cast Defensively: vs DC17
Cast Color Spray - DC16 or all kinds of bad things
Etna, don't forget that you can target an item, such as his sword, which will require a reflex save every round I believe.
Ottakar's monstrous maw cracks into a razor-sharp grin when he sees who is waiting on the other side of the door.
"Why, Sir Balin, how pleasant to see you again," he growls. "I do believe there was a promise made about showing you your own heart..."
His claws lash out at the dumbfounded knight before the man has a chance to react. The first reaches out and plucks the sword from Sir Balin's hand, casually dropping it back over his gigantic shoulder; the next fails to rend the man's well-made mail, but does catch enough to pull him a half-step forward within inches of the snapping jaws.
Erevan takes a moment to get a better look at their opponent, noting the shield leaning against the wall and, at least for the moment, out of his reach. With Felrin and monstrous Ottakar, whose transformation he has to admit surprised him and even awed him, ready to tear into the knight with fang and claw, the golden-eyed man calmly raises his bow and takes aim before loosing an arrow.
Sir Balin is a veteran, one of the King's greatest assets in the continued struggle against the forces of evil. As a witch-hunter, he has a life-time's experience of life at the sharp end; he has seen almost every trick there is - and learned a few of his own.
"I was expecting something dangerous, not a maniac that is only an expert in finding excuses to lay his hands on young ladies." the ifrit comments with a voice full of contempt while summoning a pool of slicky grease under the paladin's feet. She needed someone to vent her anger on for Hecate's death, on Sir Balin looked like the perfect candidate.
""
Sir Balin - rather annoyingly - stays on his feet, planting his stance slightly more widely to compensate for the slipperiness of the ground. He gives Etna a pitying look. "Witch, please; do you think I've not seen that trick before? And if you are alluding to Miss Reeve, I assure you that Mitra knows my conscience is clear. It would appear she has left your company. Did she decide to make a return to the Light?" There is a hopeful note in his voice.
His claws lash out at the dumbfounded knight before the man has a chance to react. The first reaches out and plucks the sword from Sir Balin's hand, casually dropping it back over his gigantic shoulder
Sir Balin looks sorrowfully at Ottakar as his masterwork longsword is wrested from his grasp. "That... inconveniences me. Now it will take me longer to kill you all. I had hoped to do this quickly - I take no joy in prolonging the pain."
The knight draws a gleaming, masterwork poniard from a sheath cunningly built into his suit of plate. This is a weapon of one who knows that he will, on occasion, need that extra edge. Or two. Sir Balin is a survivor in a school that offers the very hardest of knocks.
Time seems to slow down for him as he gazes at Felrin. "There is nothing personal in this for me, but I need you down so that I can reach the monster you are happy to associate with." He looks up toward the heavens, as a pale nimbus of pure light surrounds him, guiding his actions. With divine speed and divine force, he drives the dagger deep into Felrin.
Erevan's arrow buzzes past, just missing the knight. He merely raises an eyebrow in reply, not favouring the golden-eyed man with any words.
In return, all but one of Felrin's attacks misses, deflected by the aura surrounding the knight.
Suddenly, she has a rather unpleasant thought. Oh, and just so that you know. You little friend Timeon. We are going to train him to be all that you wished you were. Except that he will be fighting for the winning team.
Sir Balin smiles. "Timeon is alive? Thank Mitra, my prayers are answered. As for your threat, that only matters if it is you who are the survivor - something you might have considered ere you put yourself in reach of my blade."
Her spell briefly illuminates the air, but has no effect. "Pretty. Did you expect it to do something?". Sir Balin does not look smug: Knights of the Alerion are taught from an early age the values of charity, humility and virtue. It is unthinkable that he would look smug. The expression on his face must be... satisfaction. Yes, that's it.
Sir Balin looks extremely satisfied.
Etna - Grease, fails (now out of spells?)
Ottakar - Disarms, other attacks miss
Sir Balin - smites Felrin, 13 damage, takes 8 damage from Felrin
Erevan - fires arrow, misses due to melee
Felrin - takes 13 damage, inflicts 8 damage
Tkaara - Colour Spray, fails (now out of spells)
Unimpressed by the knight's bravado, the Beast attacks once more, wishing that Hecate, and her ability to conjure a flanking partner from thin air, was still with them to get a taste of revenge for herself.
Etna doesn't replies to the paladin's question, but her hair grow a brighter color when Balin mentions Hecate. Simply staring at the enemy with eyes full of hate, the fire-haired woman mutters a spell and points to Balin's dagger.
"I had the same thought, Tkaara," Felrin says, reeling from the blow he's just been dealt. Hells, that was his dagger! Bloody good thing he lost that sword.
Calling on Asmodeus to begin restoring some of his damaged flesh, he steps away from the doorway. Once out of Balin's reach, he draws more of the Dark Prince's power into himself, in the hope of making his attacks a bit more effective against their armored foe.
Sir Balin looks mildly annoyed as his shiny nice dagger slips from his grasp; he bunches his armoured fists together and prepares to smack down his next target with the gauntlets. It's not elegant, but sometimes you just have to improvise.
Ignoring Felrin, whom he is guessing would like to retreat and in any event is not the real target here, Sir Balin of Karfeld looks up without fear into the malignant gaze of Doctor Ottakar Wilken. Nothing more remains to be said; each foe has the measure of the other; neither is willing - or indeed able - to back down. What happens when an irresistible force meets an immovable object? And which of them is which? The knight calls once more upon the power of the divine, and is infused again with Mitra's wrath; the nimbus surrounding him glows yet brighter.
Bracing himself against the slick grease underfoot, Sir Balin doubles his armoured fists together and slams them - with incredible force - into the giant bulk that is Ottakar. The beast reels back under the weight of Sir Balin's fury, and totters... but still stands.
The Beast rocks back on his heels, momentarily stunned by the paladin's mighty blow. After shaking his head to clear it, he roars in pain and anger, his bloodlust all the higher.
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Not wanting to get hit, but still hoping to be able to help the doctor, Tkaara swings her mace around the corner, trying to protect herself and distract the knight at the same time.
Attack defensively -- AC23 before cover
Attack-aid another: vs AC14 <-- +4 for cover, normally vs AC10
--> +2 next attack for the doctor
Then 5-foot step back
After hopefully distracting the paladin, Tkaara steps back, continuing her insults.
Look at the little man, hiding in his hole like a mouse.
Etna - Grease, success (now out of spells)
Ottakar - claw hits Sir Balin for 11 damage, takes 14 damage
Sir Balin - smites Ottakar, 14 damage, takes 11 damage from Ottakar (19 total)
Erevan - still to act
Felrin - 5 ft step, casts Divine Favor
Tkaara - Aid another, +2 on Ottakar's next attack
Erevan pictures it in his mind. All it takes is a simple step forward to get in range and then it is simply a matter of being quicker than the heavily armored knight, presumably a certain thing. After all, what they actually need is the amulet, not Sir Balin's death, no matter how desirable an outcome that may be. And once he has it in hand it should be a simple matter to pass it to whoever is closest, Felrin probably. Of course the knight is not going to be standing still for all of that, that much is to be expected, but options are disappearing by the minute, if not by the moment.
Resigned to the course of action, the hooded man begins by moving forward. "Greetings," he cannot help himself saying as he reaches for the amulet of silver and sapphire, bracing himself for the attack that he feels is inevitable.
"What are you - "
Sir Balin looks confused as Erevan approaches him empty-handed; he lashes out with a gauntleted hand, but misses. His eyes widen in fury as Erevan deftly unloops the holy symbol from around his neck. "No! That was a gift from His Majesty himself! GIVE IT BACK How DARE you!"
Etna - Grease, success (now out of spells)
Ottakar - claw hits Sir Balin for 11 damage, takes 14 damage
Sir Balin - smites Ottakar, 14 damage, takes 11 damage from Ottakar (19 total), AoO on Erevan, misses
Erevan - steal action, passes holy symbol to Felrin
Felrin - 5 ft step, casts Divine Favor
Tkaara - Aid another, +2 on Ottakar's next attack
Felrin's snarl of gut-deep rage at Sir Balin turns to something of a puzzled moan when Erevan hands him the pendant. He wants nothing more than another shot at the Mitran paladin, and believes fervently that his dark lord wants the man dead. But if he wanted him dead...he'd be dead. Thorn already has the man, if he'd wanted to kill him he would have done so. There is a greater purpose at work here...and I must serve it.
With a grunt, as if he's lifting a great weight, Felrin turns away from the fight, pendant clutched in his damaged hand, and makes for the stairs. He's hopeful that the guardian standing at the foot of the stairs is only there to keep Balin in, and moves past her quickly.
Despite the animalistic urges rushing through his brain, the Doctor remains a genius and analyzes the battle nigh-instantaneously. He knows that he cannot safely get by the trapped knight, so even while the party might be racing upstairs to finish its objective, he has no choice but to stay and kill his foe or die trying. That said, there is no reason he should fight fair, and so he lashes out first at the momentarily distracted paladin's legs, then prceeds to savage the man, his monstrous jaws finally finding purchase on the flesh they sought...
Distracted by the brazen theft of his prized symbol, Sir Balin does not spot Ottakar's large hand reaching out for his leg until it is already wrapped around his shins. The knight struggles briefly, but gravity only works in one direction, and he falls heavily.
Scrabbling helplessly in the grease slick, unable to get up, he can only watch as the beast's great jaws tear open first his armour, and then his ribcage, seeking and wrenching out his still-beating heart. Sir Balin's screams of agonising pain are mingled with despair: the knowledge that he has, at the last, been out-fought; beaten; felled and humiliated by those he imprisoned and mocked. His only consolation on departing this life is that his soul is safe, bound for the Celestial realms. As you watch, he gives one last, agonised, shuddering, breath - but dies knowing that he will gaze upon the face of his god.
And thus ends the Tale of Sir Balin, murdered far from the light of Mitra's sun, in the cellar of an Asmodean cardinal.
The woman at the end of the corridor smiles very slightly at the music of Sir Balin's screams. At his death, she nods briefly, acknowledging your presence for the first time.
Taking up her great sword, she clicks her heels together - and vanishes.
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Taker steps back when she sees the paladin fall. And, when his chest is ripped asunder but the inhuman form that the Doctor has become, a look of sadness appears in her eyes, if ever so briefly.
He was a noble man and a noble warrior. I defended many a criminal brought in by him. But, now here I stand, his blood pooling at my feet. Why?
As these thoughts wander through her mind, she feels a strange presence, as though some power is toying with her mind. A moment later, it is as though she can see magical presences, specifically, the cloak, now soaking up blood beneath the fallen paladin.
Tkaara turns to Etna, and Etna can see that the former barrister's eyes are once more dark and be-speckled like the night sky.
When you use you magical abilities to sense the presence of magic, what do you see?
Cast Detect Magic
Once you manage to persuade the doctor to part with the remains of the late, unlamented Sir Balin, you find the following:
- A (mangled) suit of masterwork full plate
- A masterwork longsword
- A masterwork dagger
- An Amulet of Natural Armour +1
- A Cloak of Resistance +1
- 2 Potions of Cure Moderate Wounds
- A masterwork heavy steel shield
Etna averts her eyes in disgust when Ottakar gruesomely guts the paladin. "Did you have to do that?" she comments with clear distaste for the doctor's exaggerated display. When she finally manages to turn, the ifrit finds herself face to face with the other barrister.
"At first, you just see smoke everywhere, if there is magic or not. Then, you manage to pinpoint from where it's coming from, and how strong it is. With a little training, you can tell what type of magic aura it is in base of what kind of feel it gives you." Etna replies, furrowing her brow at Tkaara's black eyes.
Winston whimpers and hides behind Etna: he really had enough for today. First the scary blonde lady, then this whole place, and now the ten feet tall dog ripped apart someone like it was a chew toy.
It was really too much for a poor old dog too handle, but at least mistress Etna was okay...
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Tkaara turns back to the paladin's corpse.
I see various colors. Two bluish glows from his pouch, his cloak has a reddish hue, and the amulet about his neck has a similar reddish hue about it.
She turns back to Etna.
Does it feel as though someone is controlling you when you use your magic? You say I have been healing people and I have no recollection of it, I truly thought you were joking. But, now I clearly can sense these . . . auras about the magic Sir Balin was carrying. But, it is as though it is not me doing this.
If her eyes were their normal color, rather than appearing to resemble the void of space, you think that you might actually see some form of concern, or even fear, reflected in them.
Etna utters a quick spell and stares at Sir Balin for a few moments, nodding slowly. "Yes, two auras of conjuration, and two abjuration: respectively, the blue and red ones. The way you differentiate them changes from person to person: most see different colors, but my father had different fingers itching based on the aura, for example." she comments while she cast the spell, before turning to Tkaara with a worried look. "But the feeling of being controlled is not normal at all, I'm afraid to say. For sorcerers like me, you can sometime struggle to rein magic in the direction you want, as you're working with more basic concepts.". Etna pauses for a moment, mulling. Her hairs placidly sways to one side to the other, before she looks Tkaara back in the eyes. "But I've never heard of someone feeling controlled when casting spells. Even if it's not arcane magic (and I'm fairly sure it isn't), it's extremely strange for Clerics and their ilk to feel like puppets when they work their god's magic."
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Tkaara frowns, and as she does so, her eyes revert to their more normal appearance.
Not sure this is god's magic. I attended Mitran temples for most of my life. But, for some reason I rather doubt the Sun God would be providing blessings when one is fighting a Mitran paladin. And, I have not attended one in more than a year. It just did not feel right to enter such a place under the influence of the various medicines I have needed.
Suddenly she pauses.
We need to go back and find Timeon. What do we say? That we arrived and found him mauled by some beast? That Sir Balin attacked us and refused to cease his assault?
As Erevan turns and hands Felrin the pendant that has suddenly been snatched from Sir Balin, the troglodyte extends a clawed hand without thinking. We have the pendant! Our mission is complete…but Balin still lives. He is just taking a deep breath, preparing to dive back into the fight, when Ottakar drops the Mitran to the floor and tears his chest open. In spite of his guttural, reptilian voice, it is clear Felrin is impressed by the savage attack, ”Nicely done, Doctor. Nicely done indeed.”
Felrin steps forward and searches the fallen man, making sure he is dead and collecting anything of value or use to them. After a moment, he stands and says, ”Let’s get out of this place. We tell Timeon that we found Balin fighting a creature of some sort and drove it off, but too late to save him. At least the wounds will match the tale, if the lad thinks to look. Let’s get him and head up those stairs to our reward.”
Time passes as you loot Sir Balin's cooling corpse and discuss what to do next, while allocating the magic items as you see fit. Ottakar's extracts wear off, and shortly afterwards, so does his mutagen - returning him to the ordinary man that he was before, albeit with some interesting rips and tears in his clothing. He's also covered in Sir Balin's blood: it is caked around his nose and mouth, his chin, his hands and arms; patches of drying blood coat his chest and thighs. It looks as though he has been bathing in it - which in a way, he has.
"You should perhaps clean up a little," Erevan remarks as he looks at the once again half-elven form of Ottakar, "especially if the boy is to be joining us. Convincing him that some beast tore into his mentor might prove a little difficult if he sees you like this."
He then moves towards the women examining what remains of Sir Balin, using his spear more or less like a staff for some support; his wounds may have healed considerably, but the pain and weakness that accompanied them are not entirely gone yet. "Would you mind if I come along? Timeon seemed to believe me earlier and it might make the... stretching of the truth easier to swallow if we both speak to him."
He pauses in thought for a moment then, before adding, "Unless we prefer to be done with this trial first and deal with the boy afterwards?"
Etna nods weakly, the exhaustion of the day starting to take the toll on her "Yes, completing our task takes the priority. Let us go report to the Cardinal."
A long, pink tongue licks some of the blood away from the Doctor's muzzle-like mouth. "I care not. He got exactly what he deserved, no more and no less. Let us deliver this thing and be done with it; I could do with a hot bath and a glass of wine. I could not care less what you do with the boy."
”I’m fine with leaving the boy, for now or for good,” Felrin says. ”Let’s take the pendant to Cardinal Thorn.”
You ascend the stairs, weary, heads bloodied; but unbowed, triumphant even. You have matched what has been thrown at you: you have exacted revenge on Sir Balin. You can feel proud of what you have achieved.
You ascend the stairs, into the light of day, blinking; has that much time really passed? Falling into pits, being dragged out of pits, looking for secret doors that weren't there, failing to find secret doors that were there, advancing slowly, wary of traps, wary of your deadline, wary of the dark, wary of carrying light, fighting, recovering, looting, salvaging, interrogating; and never, ever, feeling safe.
You ascend the stairs, and retrace your footsteps back to the cardinal's study. He sits, as if he has not moved one inch since you left; the only movement in the study is the dust motes, twinkling in the early afternoon sun. He looks up at you all, taking in your appearance.
"So. You have returned."
After a moment in which his gaze lingers on you for juuuust a fraction too long to be entirely comfortable, he smiles and claps his hands, once. "Tiadora! Refreshments!"
The platinum-haired woman blinks into existence, carrying a silver tray (with considerable discomfort, you notice). Scowling, she hands each of you a glass of chilled white wine and leaves a platter of food on the table, before disappearing again.
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Tkaara smiles.
Yes, your tests were ingenious and required us to utilize all our abilities. I thought that placing the young knight in a place from which he could not escape due to fear was brilliant.
Speaking if which, what is your intention for the young man. It is clear that he has much training in the ways of the Mitrans. We did not kill him, and I believe that he could be of value, as a convert, or a source of information regarding the plans of the inquisitors.