Malgrim sets his meager belongings down in whatever room he is given, leaving with only a simple roll of tools, his money pouch, and his heavy hooded cloak. After enduring the naval journey, he had almost become accustomed to not having to hide his heritage.
Almost.
When the subject of the tavern is brought up, Malgrim politely holds up his hand in negation. "After so much time in cramped quarters, I would prefer to find a place of silence, stillness, and stone. Do you know of a place in this city where raw stone can be found and worked?"
Whether he receives the aid of his companions or picks his way along the streets alone, he finally finds himself in front of a stone cutter's shop. He could have gone to some sculptor's studio and coaxed form from raw stone into beauty. He could have even taken his skills to make the marble destined in the Alabaster District. Instead, he chose out a well appointed, yet humble shop.
Stepping inside, he was immediately immersed in the scent of stone, which he drew in like the smell of fresh baked bread. Taking stock of the humble scene, he unrolled his set of carefully maintained tools and mutely presented them to the foreman for inspection, before gesturing at a slab of unworked stone that is presumably destined for building materials.
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As Mistress Lanvi accepts Keoki's offer of aid, he looks on as a growing smile replaces his stern, emotionless face. "Thanks to you, mine lady," he says bowing his head slightly toward the woman. "This one be doing everything his strength be allowing to keep you in protection. I vow and swear this at you."
Turning now to Arimar, he listens to the aasimar's offer to join them. Before the tribesman agrees, he asks his friend to explain what 'playing a game of cards' actually means, because this, like so many other things in this place, was completely foreign to him. As Arimiar explained what such a game would entail, Keoki was grateful to even the smallest details of such a game, but found he was even further from understanding his odd friends, their strange culture, and their strangest ideas of fun. Everything here was so far removed from what he was used to, understood or grasped.
And this he found fascinating.
"Thanks you, friend Arimar," Keoki says as the group begins to leave. "This one be joining you."
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Inside the Trotting Unicorn, as Arimar begins to setup a card table, the tattooed man also moves quietly to a table of his own. After a moment of bustling, he unloads his belongings, piling them, one atop another, at his feet. Using the still sheathed katana, he brushes aside a small candle sat in the center of the table. His tattooed body, strewn with many black geometric glyphs, reinforces the oddity of the foreign and exquisite blade held by what seems no more than a savage.
Hailing a nearby barmaid, the tribesman asks for a cook-pan to be brought to him, the hotter the better, requesting it still glowing red from the ovens of the tavern. At his feet he fumbles through is belongings and pull a small wrapping of cloth. From within the folds, the tribesman pull free a square-shaped morsel of dried and preserved meat, no more than an inch square. With the desiccated piece of meat sat before him on the table, he lays both palms flat and closes his eyes.
Seconds stretch into minutes, gathering to become nearly an hour. At some point, the tribesman had begun mumbling to himself, though to those around him, it was unclear when exactly this had begun, the sound never having grown to more than a faint whisper. He did not form words exactly, at least not that any nearby could understand, but there still was a hint of intelligence and structure to the ramblings.
As Koeki sat meditating, it was no surprise that most within the Trotting Unicorn gave this odd stranger a wide birth.
After an hour, the tattooed man opened his eyes to see a scalding pan resting upon a plentifully-high pile of cloth, securing the red hot dish from marring the table upon which it sat. When the utensil had been brought to him the tribesman didn't rightly know, but he smirked at its proximity to his resting hands and was grateful he had moved not an inch and inadvertently saved himself from a cruel set of burns.
In his periphery, he could now see the towering form of Benaiah leaning in to watch the ritual, and the tribesman began to speak as he first doused the pan with a few glugs of oil before dropping in the morsel, as well.
"Me be saying before that Enya have gold mines and shiny jewels, hiding away in winding caves. They tunnel through much of me father's lands," he begins, though does not look to benaiah, for whom the words were obviously meant. As the meat sears upon contact with the dish, a wafting, sweet aroma rises into the air.
"There be people that come upon Enya, wanting treasures for them own-selves. Them even raid resting places of Keoki's family. Even them which have sit on Fifty Father's Throne," with his bare hand he reaches in and flips the searing meat, releasing it before any lasting damage is done to his fingertips.
"Once," the tribesman says, pausing to inhale through is nose, letting the mouthwatering smell fill his senses. "Keoki trap such robber. She tian. She fight bravely. She worthy foe."
"But in end, she lose. And like me be saying before, this one sometime have troubles resisting blood queen's gift," he says, his eyes staring at morsel that is now properly seared. "To honor her, Keoki carry some 'dis thief with him on his travels..."
In one quick motion he reaches into the pan once more, plucks the seared meat free, and moves it to his mouth.
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After a moment spent chewing, the tribesman's head leaned back, tipping at an extreme angle over the back of his chair. Almost imperceptibly a shiver rippled across his body, which vanished almost as soon as it had manifested.
Then he remained still.
It took a full minute before the tattooed man began to stir once more. Opening his eyes, he looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time, and could not suppress a slightly deranged grin which parted his lips, while releasing a chilling titter of laughter that broke his silence.
Gathering his supplies, he crossed the room to rejoin his friends at their card game. As he walked, there was unmistakably a different air about him. He seemed more graceful and fluid in his motions, even his features themselves seemed more feminine and supple. The sheathed katana, which he held confidently in one hand, no longer appeared as a glaring juxtaposition when set against his dark, geometric tattoos. The blade seemed as one with tribesman, extension of his flesh.
His eyes had changed too. There was a fire burning behind them, but beyond this, even the shape and gaze was like that of a different person entirely. Where once the unmistakable appearance of kuru savage held sway, now was only the hard-reading, piercing glance of someone that hailed from tian xia.
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Dropping his supplies nearby to the gathering group of card players, Keoki deftly pulled up a chair, spinning it with a flick of his wrist, causing the twirling chair to sit backward against the table. Straddling the seat-back, the tribesman leaned forward, resting his elbows confidently upon the table.
"Deal me in you pale terror," the tattooed man jokes with Arimar, holding out his hand expectantly. There is a strangeness that cannot be suppressed at seeing a genuine kuru tribesman, tattooed and muscular, but superimposed with such feminine features. Even Keoki's voice was set just higher in pitch and held an almost disturbingly tender quality. "It's been ages and ages since I've tried my luck at cards."
Reaching into his bag, Keoki pulls free a hand full of coins and piles them upon the table. "Let's see what luck you boys have," he laughs, smiling at the others.
Arimar looks totally confused at this turn of events. He recalls some similarly striking behavior from the cave and decides simply to let it go. Should I refuse to deal this rube in? Naw, never give a sucker an even break.
"How about a game of 21 Sczarni?" he asks. Arimar almost begins to explain the rules but Keoki, remarkably, places to hands on the table and then uses his index finger to tap on the cloth. It's the classic "card please" gesture, recognized by all true gamblers.
Arimar flips two cards Keoki's way. They read:
9 of Hearts, 6 of Spades.
Arimar grins. 15. Not a great showing. Many gamblers fold under this kind of pressure. He deals his face up card:
4 of Hearts. Lamashtu's hoary breasts, what a terrible card. Arimar tries to hide his disappointment as he places a second card face down.
-- 8 of diamonds
"Hit or stay?" Arimar asks, ready to explain but sensing somehow that he need not.
The tribesman's eyes the cards laying before him, one finger absentmindedly tapping on the table. Keoki is not calling for another card just yet, he is lost in thought while attempting to calculate his odds. The narrowing of his eyes and furrowing of his brow betrays an inner lament for where he stands in the game.
"I've never been one that is good at playing it safe," he says in a voice that is not entirely his own. He then reaches forward with a graceful swipe and taps now on the six of spades. "Else, I would not be talking to you through this savage..." There is almost a laugh that escapes Keoki's own lips, seeming to refer to himself in the third person.
"Hit me..."
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Arimar once again marvels at the different tone Keoki is taking. Referring to himself as a savage, though, he would have to ask the real Keoki what this was all about when he returned (assuming he returned).
"A hit? You're sure? There are more cards in the deck to bust you than will help you... and the dealer is showing a four," Arimar looks at the firm expression on Keoki's face, and the impatient expressions on the other gamblers' and flips over another card in front of the strangely - and suddenly - cosmopolitan tribesman.
"Four of clubs, 18," F~@@! The dealer can't hide his disappointment as he deals out the remaining players. One busts, some money to offset my losses at least, one is showing 21, a Werewolf, but most are sitting on their mid-high teen hands after seeing Arimar's 4. I need to hit or I pay everyone but the fat slob who busted.
"Dealer hits," he says with a heavy air.
"Queen of clubs, twenty two, dealer busts," Arimar flips over his hidden 8 of diamonds, curses silently one more time as he passes out the winnings.
"Next hand, bets in," he calls out. Arimar doesn't even check to see if Keoki wants cards before dealing him in again.
Ace of spades and nine of diamonds, this one is luckier than Desna's right buttock. "Twenty," Arimar manages through gritted teeth as he deals himself a face up card.
"Dealer shows king of diamonds," he announces. At least that'll make me some money from these other players. Everyone makes bad decisions when the dealer has paint.
Arimar follows the face up card with one face down. Most players either bust or sit in the high teens. None manage a Werewolf this time around. Grinning, Arimar flips the final card.
"Queen of diamonds, dealer shows twenty. Everybody loses," he tries to avoid a smug grin as he takes in the winnings. Keoki's not the only one who has caressed Desna's ass tonight.
"Last hand," he calls. He'd been winning a lot more consistently before Keoki sat down, and he knows when the winds of luck show against him. Besides, he was seen to come in with Keoki and the man would probably leave with him too. It would not do to win too much money with a friend at the table... or at least, someone the crowd perceives to be a friend.
"Next hand, bets in," he calls in a monotone, much calmer than before. Yet again, he deals Keoki a hand without asking.
"Eighteen," he calls out, rubbing his chin with interest, "Nine of clubs and nine of hearts. Would you like to double down?" I have a feeling he'll say 'yes'. He'll probably win and take twice the winnings, too.
"Dealer shows six of clubs," dealer hides his disappointment.
Arimar gives little away as he checks his facedown card and waits to see if Keoki will indeed double down.
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Benaiah watches the card game out of the corner of his eye with amusement. The run of Arimar's luck before Keoki sat down was nothing short of remarkable, but then again, playing as the house in a game where the house always wins is as good as creating your own luck.
As soon as Keoki, or whatever he was now, sits down, Benaiah's interest splits. Half of him is amused at the brief moments of fluster that Arimar flashes, and the other half begins to pay attention to the rest of the table.
Maybe I won't have to go looking for my own fight today if someone accuses these two of cheating...
Keeping his ears tuned to the card games behind him, Benaiah flips a silver coin to the bartender in return for a mug of cold ale. He had chosen this place on purpose. The owner had been in trouble last time he was through this city, and no doubt would still have some similar issues.
"Is Nigel in?" He asks the gruff bartender, who answers with a scowl, and nothing more. ”Fine, tell him I’m here to help with his tax problem. Again. Tell him the Heretic is here, he will know.”
With a frustrated growl, the barkeep slams a mug he was cleaning onto the counter and storms off into the kitchen area. A few moments later he comes back, glaring at the scarred man. With another grunt, he nods his head to the back room, indicating Benaiah should go back there.
”Hey, you boys play nice for a bit. I’ve gotta go check on a few things. Don’t start any fights I can’t finish for you.” he says with a wink, then disappears through the swinging doors.
Just before last hand is called, the companions can hear a scraping sound from behind them. Barely craning their necks they glance over their shoulders to see Mistress Lanvi's handmaiden pull the chair out. She demurely folds her dress under her as she politely sits down showing crossed ankle as she scoots in.
A small leather pouch rests in her lap under crossed wrists. She tosses a pile of coins onto the table. "Seems that I am late, but better late than never." she mouths in a demure voice.
"Hmmm. That will do." She looks defiantly at Arimar.
"Why would I stop pushing my luck now? That would require me actually learning from my mistakes," Keoki laughs and leans backward while still straddling the chair. One arm is outstretched, pulling the chair on to two legs, while the other grips the sheath of the katana. The confident grip on the katana seems to bring comfort to the tribesman, who keeps the blade exceedingly close at all times, though not as a threatening gesture or for protection, but, it appears, because it is soothing to keep such a familiar utensil in hand.
"Of course, I'll double down," he says, now leaning forward once more and resting again against the table.
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Benaiah chews on the end of an elegant pen, deep in contemplation. He picks up the parchment he had been working on and lifts it up to the light filtering through the dingy window in the small office space behind the kitchen.
"You know Bartholemew, every time they catch you not paying your taxes, the collector is just going to raise them. Bad news for you, but good news for me. Because when you owe 150 gold, I can charge you 100 and it still makes sense for you to pay me instead of them." He flashes a wry grin at the spindly business owner.
"Even better for me, is that if you try to screw me over, I can make these fake PAID IN FULL receipts look like they are actually fake. Honestly, I don't know why you don't just pay up like you are supposed to. Life would be easier..."
Finally catching sight of the detail he was missing, he lays the paper back down and dips the pen into the nearby inkwell. A careful stroke here, delicate touch up there, and one last final detail to complete the work. Benaiah would never reveal his secret, but he happened to know that the magistrate had a stamp with a small notch in the corner that left an oblong star shaped splotch on every one of his approvals.
"There you go." Benaiah says, finishing the work and standing up. He grabs a leather pouch from the corner of the desk and drops it into his pocket after opening it to inspect its contents. "Me and my boys drink for free the rest of the week too." he finishes with another wink that is far from playful and enjoys the mans inevitable groaning and grumbling at the sudden change of terms in the agreement. Benaiah turns and walks out the door, back into the front room where he is pleased to see Lanvi's handmaiden still sitting at the card table.
Malgrim moves to one of the larger pieces of stone, trailing his callused fingertips along the grains almost reverently as he feels the depths of the rock, it's imperfections, its strengths. Then, with startling speed and surety he brings his chissel down twice, his perfect strikes cleanly breaking off a semi-smooth rectangle of stone, which he quickly sets aside. With quick motions bordering on the supernatural he moves along the piece, carving off slices from the slab. Working methodically with more finesse than strength, his pile of neatly packed stones grows ever larger as he moves faster, not bothering to move from his place as 25 pound stones seem to leap into his hands without even a gesture.
This frenzy of measured motions continues until there is a pile of stone stacked higher than the hobgoblin that would represent a day's work from a usual laborer, and a derth of unworked stone. Only then does Malgrim turn to the stunned shopowner, taking a moment to catch his breath before asking, "Do you have more?"
The fallen angle once again passes two cards to his traveling companion.
The fist card is laid on the nine of clubs, a queen, rests comfortably on top. "Eighteen."
The second card is placed down. "Hmmm a 15. Decisions. What shall you do?"
As the large Chelaxian returns with the faintest of ink splotches on the tips of his fingers, Mistress Lanvi's handmiden inches closer to Keoki. "Do you think that he is alright?" she whispers in Keoki's ear.
"I recommend you sit, but what would I know... you are, after all a risk taker," Hit, you fool, hit! Arimar silently wills Keoki to ignore his advice.
"Hit me," the strangely feminine voice calls from Keoki's own lips "What's life without pressing your luck here and there?"
"Hit?" Arimar smiles, "Well, if you're sure..."
He flips her a card, face up. It goes spinning, spinning, spinning and comes to a rest nestled with its corner just behind Keoki's 9 of hearts and 6 of spades.
"Twenty one. Werewolf," Arimar looks crestfallen, "You have to be f#@#ing kidding me."
He sits and stares at the card for a good long while. He notices that a lot of other patrons are also staring. Disbelief begins to turn to anger as they regard Arimar.
"Ummm.... " he begins, uncertain, and decides to flip over the dealer card, "Eight of hearts, dealer has fourteen. Dealer hits." If it's a seven, I'm a dead man.
"F!*+ me," he says, "Seven of hearts, twenty one. Dealer has Werewolf." He quickly scoops the bets - except half of Keoki's split, of course - and rolls up the cloth, making his way over to Malgrim's table and hoping against hope that Keoki doesn't follow him to fuel the suspicions of the burned patrons.
"Malgrim, hold onto your butt," he begins, sounding much cooler and more suave than ever before, a half-burnt cigarillo suddenly appearing in the corner of his mouth, "This could get ugly..."
Keoki looks down at his share of the winnings, and cannot suppress a beaming (and not entirely innocent) grin that stretches ear to ear. His striking eyes, now resembling that of a descendant of tian xia, look to the others at the table and burn with an unrestrained, heckling laughter.
"Either you boys are having a run of bad luck," the tribesman begins, his voice laced with malign mockery. "Or you're terrible at cards..."
"Either way," the tattooed man adds at the end, standing from the table and raising the hilt of his katana. "Everything worked out well enough for me."
Then he laughs and turns away toward the bar.
A few patrons looks at the skinny aasimar, then the buff tattooed man, scoop the loot between them.
Sour faces all around and more than one patron starts to look around to see who else is in the Unicorn. Mistress Lanvi's handmaiden looks crestfallen at her loss. She looks to the more aggressive members around the table and says in a quiet voice, "These are under the employment of Mistress Lanvi. She would not look kindly should any of you get ideas."
The men seem to deflate like a punctured sheep's bladder. A few scuttle off to refresh their drinks, while others, obviously out of coin, make towards the door.
The handmaiden pushes back from the table and follows Keoki to the bar.
"Care to buy me a drink? I recently lost my meager wages. Most unfortunate. I will have to find a way to make that money back."
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Just as Benaiah comes back, smiling to himself and pleased to see the handmaiden, the table breaks up, leaving the woman to her cards and pile of gold. He frowns at the missed opportunity for a moment, before grinning again.
Maybe all is not lost...
He walks over to the table as several people look around in confusion now that the game is suddenly over and their coin purses are quite a bit lighter. He ignores the rest of the people, plopping down in the chair next to the demure woman. "So, a card sharp, eh? I wouldn't have guessed it. How many other secrets do you have?" he asks with a smile and a rhetorical question he doesn't expect to be answered.
"Two things I have been wondering," he continues, trying to pour on the charm, "One you probably won't answer because we don't work for your mistress anymore, and perhaps one that you could answer, since we don't work for your mistress anymore." Benaiah slides a little closer, pushing on the boundaries of personal space and hoping she welcomes the attention.
"I doubt Mistress Lanvi has seasonal allergies, so what is really going on with her cough? She didn't look to good most of that trip." He tilts his head waiting for a reply, and leaves his second request unsaid, for now.
Turning to the handmaiden, the tattoed man takes a moment to overtly look the woman up and down while considering her question. "Of course," the feminine voice rolls off Keoki's tongue. "I've got a few extra coins to throw around."
"Barkeep!" he calls, raising and arm and hailing the barman. "A bottle of Josu, if you've got it, and two shot glasses." Pulling free a few addition coins, the tribesman slams the currency on the counter and continues. "If you don't got any, then send a runner..."
Looking back the handmaiden, he continues on. "This is a drink from my homeland... You'll love it," Keoki begins, though in a voice that is not his own. "Traditionally made from rice... wheat... barley. Clear and colorless. Always consumed neat.... In your tongue, josu unappealingly translates to 'burned alcoholic drink'. But don't worry, it tastes much better than it sounds..."
"In my homeland," Keoki's surprisingly slender and soft fingers reach forward and grasp a few strands of the handmaiden's hair, stroking just rough enough to not cause her pain. "The tain-hawn women of Hwanggot hold much of the power. They are the warriors of our society."
"You would fit in nicely..."
Next the tribesman pulls free a handful of coins, well more than the handmaiden had initially brought to bargain with, and passes all to the woman. "Take these, I won't be around to enjoy them and it will be Keoki who misses them..." Then an awkward laugh, full of lament, passes the tattoed man's lips.
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Benaiah sits there with his head tilted, charm oozing out of his eyes and devilish smile. Suddenly the charming handmaiden gets up, eyes only for Keoki it seems, and follows him to the bar. With his mouth agape, he watches the not-so-worldly tribesman lay on the charm with more skill and swagger than he could muster on his best day.
Instinctively Benaiah's hands reach for his potions, vials, and extracts. What's gotten in to him? So strange... Let's see, what have I got? Alchemist's fire, nope. Cure, nope. Invisibility, nope. Strength Mutagen... hmmm... Nope. If she was in to muscles, these sweet guns wouldn't need much enhancement, and she certainly isn't into the claws and maw that comes with this concoction. Or is she... Nope. Probably not. Seems like she is into the Cannibal kind of savage, not the monstrous demonic kind...
Benaiah's shoulders slump as the lady chooses someone else, and he begins to scan the room for someone else to hit on. After all, it had been a long, long time at sea...
If I don't know how to make it now, I'm going to have to learn how to brew something to boost my pitiful charm factor. You don't need charm if you've got the gold, but who knows how long I will have the gold...
Arimar approaches Benaiah with a familiar grin on his face and a swagger in his step. Benaiah knows without asking that Arimar has found at least two willing women to bed tonight.
"Strike out again, Benaiah?" the skinny man asks, unaware of the big man's internal conflict over the matter, "Looks like Keoki just bought a night in the handmaiden's bed before she could even tell you the price. Not to worry! It turns out one of those who lost the most at 21 Sczarni employs several ladies of the night. He agreed to call of the dogs, so to speak, if we patronized his women tonight rather than Lanvi's. How could I refuse? Now, do you want the red head or the brunette?"
Two above average, but not spectacular, women whose clothing starts at their upper thighs and finishes just above their nipples wave to Benaiah and Arimar. One is a chubby red haired woman with freckles, the other is slim but still quite buxom and from her visible epicanthic folds likely has a touch of Tian Xia in her heritage. "Personally, I prefer the red head. You know how I like them with more meat on their bones."
Pocketing the coins, and propping one elbow on the bar, she rests one cheek on her hand before speaking to Keoki. "Josu. you say? I have never had that before. Tian Xia? You have been there? How exotic.
"To answer your big friend's question, we usually just travel around the Inner Sea region. Lately it has been backwater potion slingers, and any old crone that wields a stick to cure young girls of unwanted conditions not to mentions all the slick-tongued charlatans claiming to channel the divine. All claiming they can cure Mistress of the coughs. You can see how well that has gone for her."
She raises the glass to her lips just to wet her tongue. Her face scrunches up as she begins to stifle a spasmodic cough.
"You drink this? And it is warm." Looking crosswise at Keoki, she closes her eyes, takes a deep settling breath, then tips the contents into her mouth. Gritting her teeth, her throat constricts as she tries to swallow the liquid, but her anatomy cannot comply. She spews the Josu across the bar room floor before doubling over spitting and coughing. Watery tears stream from the corners of her eyes and she attempts to regain her breath.
"That ... that ... was terrible. Why would anyone want to drink that? she exclaims as she wipes the tears from her eyes. "If that was some kind of a!%&$@$ joke, it isn't funny. I don't like to be embarrassed or made fun of." Pouting she hops off the bar stool and heads for the door.
"Hold up Benaiah," the necromancer gives his friend a very bony elbow to the ribs, "Looks like Keoki struck out, even after paying her. You might have a chance yet. If you want to pursue her, I guess I'll just have to take the two of these ladies myself... you know, since they're already paid for and all. There's more than enough of me to go around." The man gives his already swelling member a good pat over his britches and grins lasciviously at Benaiah. Would that eating were as much fun as f*&@ing. Did I even consume anything today? Urgathoa forgive me.
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Benaiah freezes in place for a moment at the unexpected development. Guaranteed... he thinks, looking at the two working ladies that Arimar has already procured. Much better, but not a sure thing... he says, flipping his gaze over to the retreating handmaiden.
If I strike out with her, I could end up alone tonight...
The conflict in his brain is fierce, weighing the options and wrestling with the potential consequences. Finally, his impulsive, risky side takes over. He flashes a grin to Arimar, both in thanks for the original arrangements, and accepting the real challenge in front of him. He darts to the door to hold it open for the handmaiden as she is leaving, then follows her outside, making sure to shut the door and delay Keoki's pursuit.
"Sorry about that in there. None of us meant to make you look foolish. Here, let me help you with that..." he says, holding out an arm to help the lady in her fine gown take the few steps from the elevated porch down to the cobblestone paved street. Once she is down, he leaves his elbow out, offering to escort her in whatever direction she is walking.
Say something, say something. Gotta pull her back from feeling embarrassed...
As they begin to walk, Benaiah speaks to break the silence. "You know, I never got a chance to ask you your name. In all the time we have spent together, you seemed to be just a shadow to mistress Lanvi." Benaiah pauses long enough to wait for her to respond, expecting she might still be reserved based on how foolish she likely felt.
Mistress Lanvi clearly wields considerable power and influence. You and her must be very close, for her to trust you as much as she does. I've read stories of kings long past who had an advisor who's title was cupbearer. It sounds like such a simple and unimportant person, to taste their king's food to make sure it isn't poisoned. But in fact, it was a deeply intimate and close friendship between cupbearer and king. The king had to have unwavering trust in their cupbearer, because that is the person they were the most vulnerable to." After his rambling, he looks down at the demure woman with a smile. "I guess what I am saying is, you must be very important to Mistress Lanvi. Maybe not everyone can see it, but I can see just how valuable you are."
Benaiah flashes an innocent smile, his heart racing to see if his compliment might break the defensive wall she seems to have put up so suddenly. Anything to start a conversation. He can figure out how to keep it going once it actually gets going...
Eyes wide in fright, the Handmaiden finds herself alone with the man that gives her terrors.
"Ummm, no need to escort me. I am used to these streets. I was born and raised here.
"And yes. Mistress Lanvi does trust me completely. She should. I am her daughter.
"A good night to you." she disappears into the shadows.
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Benaiah stands stunned as the woman disappears into the shadows.
Daughter? Didn't see that coming. Guess she would have preferred the boyish side of me after all. Makes me wish she hadn't seen that side of me on the boat...
Shoulder slumped, he lets out a big sigh and makes his way back into the bar. Once inside, he looks around to see if Arimar and the two ladies are still around, but doesn't expect that they will be.
He looks up to the gruff bartender with disappointment all over his face as he slides up next to Keoki. "Josu. Just leave the bottle. I'll drink it in honor of the exotic woman I could have had if I hadn't convinced myself I had a chance with Mistress Lanvi's daughter..."
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The next morning the sun is unusually bright and warm. The Companions reunite for a quick breaking of their fast from the revelry the night before. Arimar chews blandly, while Benaiah continues to clear his plate and pick from Arimar's. Keoki and Malgrim pick and chose their food carefully, avoiding the large man's reach.
Heading into Magnimar's busy streets, they make their way to the bustling markets to spend their newly earned gold.
Maybe it was a haze from the night before, or still acclimating to dry land after being at sea for so long, possibly it was daydreaming of their future, but for some unfathomable reason, the normal shoulder to shoulder press of people in the city relented enough to give them a clearing 10-feet across,. It has gone unnoticed by all the inhabitants of Magnimar. The Companions pick their heads up, and shake off their malaise to see a nondescript man standing in front of them.
Of average height and build, dressed in a dun colored tunic and breeches, he sports a beige wide-brimmed hat with a buff colored scarf hanging loosely from his neck. His eyes are hidden behind darkened spectacles, but they can all tell he is looking directly at them.
He holds up one chestnut glove as a sign of greeting.
"Hello. Worry not, I am here to celebrate your good fortune with you. I have heard, and I apologize if it is too soon, that you are without an employer. Is that correct?"
The foot traffic continues to break around the group like waves upon the rocks, often creating circular migratory patterns around the bubble. None of the inhabitants even glance in their general direction as they perform their mundane tasks.
"Who am I you must be wondering? I am called the 'Mouth'. I had a name once, but that was a long time ago. I can remember it like a first memory. You know the one you have of your mother singing to you, or in the fields with your dad. Hazy. More emotion than detail. But Mouth works for me, and has for a long time. Names aren't really that important, at least not to me.
"So I represent an interested party, let us call him the 'Collector'. Not sure if he is a 'he' or a 'man' for that matter. He is rich, and powerful, and special, and all that entails, I assume. Never met. Probably never will. Like I said it doesn't matter to me. There is something that everyone of us desires, wants more than anything, and as I perform duties for him, he makes my dreams come true. And it makes me very happy.
"He has many friends. Many interesting and powerful friends. And some very dull and boring friends. Many perform small services for him, whether they know it or not. I believe that you are all familiar with a Mistress Lanvi? Who can forget the harlots of Callistria .. erm .. priestesses. Good times, am I right? Well, back to business, it seems that the services you performed for her made quite the impression, and well, the Collector is an admirer. So let us strike a bargain.
"What is it that you desire? Money?" A billowy mass of water and smoke forms above the Mouth's head. Inside the dense fog the group can see a beheaded white dragon, blood still dripping from its neck where its head was severed, strewn atop a dragon's horde of precious stones and coins.
"Perhaps you desires are more carnal in nature? Hmm" The image within the cloud blurs and fades, replaced by scantily clad dancers, of both sexes, lounging on a pillowed cairn.
"Maybe, and just maybe it is power you crave." The image this time quickly flicks out, and a new image rapidly appears. They can seem themselves seated in thrones of power, servants and supplicants surround them, performing duties as well as pleading their cases.
"The Collector has watched you, silently, from afar. I know not why, but I am told, you are destined for great things.
"Why were you allowed to suffer at the hands of the priests of Pharasma? I know not. But it was part of a plan. Does this upset you to know that someone was watching, not doing anything?
So what is it that the Collector can do for you? Is it revenge for their transgressions? Do you wish to break the hold your evil goddess has over you? What is it that Arimar wants?"
"The Collector has watched you, silently, from afar. I know not why, but I am told, you are destined for great things.
"Why were you allowed to suffer at the hands of your father? I know not. But it was part of a plan. Does this upset you to know that someone was watching, not doing anything?
So what is it that the Collector can do for you? Is it revenge for his transgressions? Do you wish to return to your birthright, to be a hellknight? What is it that Benaiah wants?"
"The Collector has watched you, silently, from afar. I know not why, but I am told, you are destined for great things.
"Why were you allowed to suffer at the hands of Blood Hand Empire? I know not. But it was part of a plan. Does this upset you to know that someone was watching, not doing anything?
So what is it that the Collector can do for you? Is it revenge for the cave in, when they left you for dead? Do you wish to return to your tribe and leave the racial prejudices of the world behind? What is it that Malgrim wants?"
"The Collector has watched you, silently, from afar. I know not why, but I am told, you are destined for great things.
"Why were you allowed to suffer at the hands of your father? I know not. But it was part of a plan. Does this upset you to know that someone was watching, not doing anything?
So what is it that the Collector can do for you? Is it more souls for your fifty-father’s throne? Do you wish to return to your home and rule? What is it that Keoki wants?"
Time reverts back to normal.
The Mouth continues. "Whatever it is, it can be arranged. Within reason that is. So I have an offer for you. My master, the Collector, wishes you to perform him a service, for which you shall be justly compensated.
I shall answer any and all questions you may have. To shed some light" he giggles,"A brief introduction.
"My master is looking for a tome, Grimorium Verum, one that has been lost in this world, but he was able to track it down to another world. The Plane of Shadows. We were able to procure a native of that plane, and he has been most helpful once we asked the questions correctly." He pauses to chuckle.
"Should you be interested, I have a dossier prepared with all the information he was willing to share. And should you be interested, you can meet our friend from the Plane of Shadows.
"Provided that is, if we can agree upon terms. I know this must come as a bit of a shock, and you have had quite the day. Ask you questions and then let us reconvene tomorrow. Have the night to yourselves. You may also peruse the dossier if you wish. When I check in tomorrow, please be prepared with an answer, if you are interested or not, and we shall discuss compensation."
Malgrim rocks back from the instant of time where the Mouth addressed him personally. What is it that he wanted?
After the strange man finishes speaking, he looks to his companions. "I would venture into the Plane of Death itself, if it furthered my path. And yet, after Lavni I am unsure how much we can trust clandestine intermediaries that hint at much and hide more. But what opportunities do we have?"
To The Mouth, he asks with an impassive face, "What is this tome and what is it used for? What aren't you telling us about this job? There must be some reason that you're coming to us, here in the street, instead of more traditional groups like the Pathfinder Society."
"Ah the Society. They have a reputation for success no matter the costs. But they prefer to keep what they find.
"As for the book, again, I am just an intermediary. I am not quite sure what it is used for. You are free to ask about it with whomever you want. The Collector, well he collects you know. Of all the items I have procedure for the Collector, well there hasn't been another Earthfall, has there?
"As for what I am not telling you, I have told you what I know. Tome. Plane of Shadows. Very scary." he ticks his fingers off as he speaks, "Seems about it." he ends with a grin.
"And pray tell Master Stoneseer, what is wrong with the fine streets of Magnimar?" he chuckles as he swipes a fruit off a passer-by with one hand, and flicks a coin into the fruit basket with this other thumb.
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"You two... ugh... are lovely... ah... I can't believe Malgrim... there, no, there... passed on such a wonderful... oh, got it... opportunity. I hope he... mmmm... gets somewhere with that tight-wad... yeah, that's it... handmaiden...... what the... What's that dear? Oh, seems you're welcome to join in..."
"As for what I want? Enough coin can get you both power and whores to warm my bed. Give me that. Lots of it. A f@*% load of it, and I'll do whatever you ask. But first, what I want is for you to go f#++ yourself."
"Money," Arimar states flatly when all can hear, a sour expression suddenly appearing on his face, "Lots and lots of money. Give us that, and we'll get this Grimorium Verum for your Collector. Should be fun, a jaunt around the Plane of Shadows... assuming that's where you're angling that it is."
"Who knows what man you would have been have things occurred differently? It is often our greatest tribulations that make us who we are. Yes?
"Keep your anger. Keep you fury. Channel them. Use them. F$!* myself. What a great trick that would be."
"Again, think on it. We shall discuss terms tomorrow, but know that The Collector's pockets are deep, influence wide, and ... well he is a big deal and all." wiping his brow with his buff colored kerchief.
"Hot one today, isn't it?" he laughs nervously.
"Did you hear that boy? Anything we want. Can he really give us anything we want? I don't know that we can trust him."
The voice in Benaiah's head filters through his consciousness, flashing through emotions like a lightning filled sky.
"Who does he think he is, this collector? What is he setting us up for? Just think of the possibilities though..."
"And just what do we really want? Why, of course you want to be a man, instead of a child in a grown man's body, right? Are you sure that is what you want? We wouldn't want you thinking that you don't need me now... Yes, perhaps money. Power. Your father's seat as head of the noble house?"
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Frozen in the streets, dumbfounded by this interesting turn of events, Benaiah's heart races as his mind struggles with the mind bending realities in front of him. Or where they real?
Maybe that didn't matter. Perception is, after all, reality, is it not? Lies and manipulation created the perception that he was a heretic, and that became the reality, sending him on the run. Suddenly the realization that The Mouth showed him, that someone else was aware of his plight, hits him like a ton of bricks.
The confusion swirls. Should he be angry that someone knew what his father was to him, and did nothing? Should he even care? No answers, no feelings strongly one way or another came to him.
What do I want? Shut up for once and let me think. he chides the voice in his head.
"Money... Power... To be a hellknight? To take my father's place, to surpass him even? No... none of those things feel right. I mean yes, I want them... But that doesn't feel like the right answer..." Benaiah mumbles, not nearly loud enough for anyone to clearly understand him, but still conversing as if he and The Mouth were the only two people in existence right now, as if time were still stopped.
"If I were still a pathfinder, I might as more about this book. If I were a paranoid man, concerned about what powers this tome might bestow upon it's owner, I might ask to understand more. If I were concerned about how this Collector might wield that power, I might ask more about him..." Benaiah looks back and forth to his companions, returning to a general awareness of them around him. "But as I consider your offer, I have come to realize that I don't care. Perhaps this Collector wishes to understand the secrets of immortality and ascension to godhood in order to lay waste to half of Golarion. Or maybe he just likes books. I... don't care. What I do care about, however, is me. Is the four of us. I will need the day to think on just what it is I really want, but if you are promising to deliver just that, then I accept."
Benaiah crosses his arms and puffs out his chest slightly, becoming more relaxed after the strange experience of the last few minutes. "Tell us more about the plane of shadow, and the location of this book. How will we recognize it? If it is such a rarity, and so highly desired, then what do you know of who holds it now?"
"Hard to be a big deal when no-one knows who you are," Arimar snorts, but gives the man an affable smile. What is it about this guy that I like so much? "Yeah, we'll think on it and you can get off these hot streets that you profess to admire so. Answer Benaiah first, of course, but then we'll have much to discuss.
"Oh, and I'm assuming we'll get some gear to help aid our chances of survival on the Plane? Also, tomorrow, I'd like for you to have an idea of exactly how much gold risking our lives is worth to your employer."
"Come on," he says, after meeting with some resistance, "When else are we going to get the opportunity to travel to the Plane of Shadows? And just think about what we can do with all the cash they're promising. If we do well at this job, we may well get more... and more pay, too! This guy seems a whole lot less tight with the purse strings than Lanvi. Sure, she was a good excuse to get out of Absalom, but 2,000gp for all the s$~@ we had to put up with? F##$ that."
"Tell us more about the plane of shadow, and the location of this book. How will we recognize it? If it is such a rarity, and so highly desired, then what do you know of who holds it now?"
"All good questions. Very good questions. The Plane of Shadows, as is detailed here in this dossier" "Will tell you much about it."
The Plane of Shadows is the dark and twisted reflection of the Material Plane. All things lost or forgotten eventually find their way here. Everything from missing keys to great tomes and powerful weapons can be found scattered across the darkened landscape. Small items that simply disappear on the Material Plane reappear on Shadowsfall when no one remembers them anymore. Larger things, such as buildings and forests, decay over time and show up piece by piece on the plane. Rarely, events on the Material Plane, like earthquakes and tornadoes, shallow or otherwise, decimate entire sections of lands and cities. When this happens, this decimated land appears almost instantly on the Plane of Shadows, taking any people and buildings once situated there with them. The people living on the Plane of Shadows call it Shadowsfall, just as those that live on the Material Plane have a name for their own realm.
Not entirely devoid of light, the plane exists in a perpetual shadowy gloom. Dominated by monochromatic landscapes of black and gray, the portion most familiar to planar travelers from Golarion resembles Golarion itself, cloaked in darkness and altered as is if through a warped and broken lens. Oceans on the Material may appear reflected in the Plane of Shadow as dry basins of black dust, devoid of life, while mountains may be higher and more treacherous, the forests deeper, thicker, and more menacing than their real counterparts. The Plane of Shadows constantly absorbs parts of other planes that are forgotten.
"As for who has it and where it is, erm, not quite sure?" he ends with a high pitched squeal.
"I know, bad answer.
"Well my new friends, though it pains me to do so, I must hurt your feelings. The Collector has many groups, not unlike your own, scouring Golarion for items he desires. Your group has an unique set of skills that the Collector feels would be beneficial for recovering the Grimorium Verum.
"He has been searching for it for a day. No, that is not right. A thousand thousand days. Does that sound like a long time? Regardless, recently he commissioned a different group, one with different skills than you, to recover it. He sent them into Numeria looking for a Thassalonian archive rumored to contain information that he hopes could be found in the Grimorium Verum. Sadly, they arrived too late. By a day. Does that sound like a short time? No? Maybe ten years? It seems an earthquake triggered an avalanche that buried the mountainside temple.
"Of course we then hired another team. They could move things. Lots of things. Quickly. And they discovered the archive was gone.
"The most likely place this archives has disappeared to is the Plane of Shadows."
"Like I said, we detained an inhabitant to guide you across the Plane. Hopefully he can help you find a newly formed mountain range. You do a bit of exploring, and bam, you find the book.
"As for what it looks like, well, when you see some Thassalonian ruins, inside you find an old leather book with the words Grimorium Verum written in virgin's blood on the cover. And runes. Lots and lots of runes. Just don't open it or you'll go mad.
"No, just f!&@ing with you there. Go ahead and read it. I don't care. Collector might get pissed, but doesn't matter to me. Make a copy, well watch your back because he is sending someone after you." The Mouth shudders at the thought.
"Oh, and I'm assuming we'll get some gear to help aid our chances of survival on the Plane?
"Definitely. Just can't bring any of your whores. Just make a list of what you need. Try to keep it under 1500 gp. And don't worry, we can get you there and back."
"Also, tomorrow, I'd like for you to have an idea of exactly how much gold risking our lives is worth to your employer."
"The Collector has given me a pretty loose leash to negotiate with you. You will get twenty-five percent of the agreed upon price up front. Full amount when you return the book to me.
"If you come back empty handed like the last team, but give solid, credible evidence of its current location, you'll get half the agreed upon price. Come back with nothing, and no leads, you keep the gold I give you upfront and you can crawl back to Mistress Lanvi. I hear she is having problems with a local shopkeeper. And a cough. Sounds dull as hell.
"Cross us, well, even your goddess won't know how to bring you back to life."
"I don't think life is what my goddess has planned for me after death," Arimar notes wryly, "But point taken. We'll work on our list tonight at Lanvi's, should we decide to work for the Collector."
"We should also talk to Lanvi," Arimar continues, "She said she was delivering us to this 'Collector'. Surely she knows why, or how to get in contact. I'd like to figure out if she knew the Mouth would be contacting us or not."
"When I check in tomorrow, please be prepared with an answer, if you are interested or not, and we shall discuss compensation."
"Fare thee well." With that he is gone, and the protective bubble that kept the mass of humanity from them busts, and they find themselves back shoulder to shoulder with the unwashed masses.
The open door floods light into the dim common room. Patron squint towards the doorway to spy who interrupted their mid-day fun.
In walks Mistress Lanvi's Handmiden, dull grey cowl pulled over her head. She walks up to the Companions, "If you have time. Mistress would like to see you. She has an update on The Audacious."
Turing on her heels, she move purposefully towards the door. Once outside, she walks in sullen silence, keeping her distance from Benaiah.
It is a short walk in the midday heat of Magnimar. The dusty roads are clearing of the populace as they head back to their homes. The Companions soon reach the familiar winding steps to Mistress Lanvi's estates high in the hills of The Summit. It seems the more money a person possesses, the more inaccessible they like their residence.
The Handmaiden walks them through the hallways which have undergone a miraculous transformation in the short time the Companions have been here. Sheets covering the furniture have been removed, windows thrust open exchanging the dusky smell of a boarded up house, with the cool, salty breeze from the water. A small group of servants are seen scurrying about, giving the house a lived-in energy. The Companions notice that the house is similar, if a bit smaller, than her house in Absalom.
They once again reach a pair of intricately carved wooden door depicting various sexual encounters with life-like bees buzzing around.
Pushing open the doors, Mistress Lanvi is once again seated behind a carved wooden desk. As they walk in she is trying her best to stifle a cough but cannot hold it in as it wracks her body. Once the fit passes, she looks up at the Companions.
"Please sit. Make yourselves comfortable. Drinks?" she waves her Handmiden to a wet bar at the side of the office to prepare any refreshment the Companions should want.
"First an update. Once we reached Magnimar, I put word out to all the local fisheries to look out for The Audacious. That group is as gossipy as the Ruling Council's wives. They also cover more ground than I could afford to hire in three lifetimes. Good news is The Audacious was spotted pulling into a wet docks near here. I sent off some money and a letter for Barbosa inquiring about the crew's health. I promise to inform you of any news I receive.
"Secondly, well, this is a bit uncomfortable. I am sharing information that everyone knows but no one is saying. My power, my influence, my business is failing. I have spent too much time away from it, spent too much time searching for a cure for this ... this ... whatever this f&+%ing thing is that I have. My rivals smell the proverbial blood in the water, and they have wasted no time to whittle away my influence.
"In addition to desires of the flesh." at this she rises from behind the desk and walks behind the Companions. She places a hand over Benaiah's shoulder and starts to run it down his chest. "Secrets. Lots and lots of secrets."
She moves to Keoki, and places her hand on his bicep, "Not every problem will be solved with strength."
She moves to Malgrim and runs a finger down his large, pointed ears, "You'll need wits."
Lastly she moves to Arimar, "And tenacity. My opponents will be relentless." she sits on her desk and looks the assimar in the eyes.
"Think on it boys. Do you wish to help me regain the prominence that I once possessed?" She gets up, exposing a large amount of thigh, and moves back behind her desk.