"What is with you?" Arimar asks, as tactless as ever, "First you deliver us to Magnimar for this Collector, then he meets with us... and then you countermand his offer with an opportunity to rekindle the lost glory of your network of whores and spies? Make up your mind about what you want from us." The necromancer shakes his head as he clearly wrestles with some conflicting thoughts.
"For me, we've been made an offer by someone who, while very cagey, is still somehow a whole lot more forthright than you've ever been," he makes a sucking sound as though drawing his next sentence in noisily through his teeth before spilling it out, "Not to mention the f%*%ing ocean-sized target you and anyone associated with you seems to on their backs. I can't speak for the others, but unless you have something, anything, more to say regarding the things you've been keeping from us that is f@&%ing monumental then I believe I will be taking the other offer over yours. Caiden's Tankard, I'll take unemployment over any offer you have to make if it means I have even a one in ten better chance of avoiding being stranded in sargassum ever again."
Almost as an afterthought, Arimar adds, "And thank you for looking out for The Audacious. It is good to know that the crew made it to harbor without your cursed presence. Oh, and I mean 'cursed' as fact, not an insult."
Arimar leans back on one of the plush chairs Mistress Lanvi has festooned her home with and awaits the inevitable rebuttal and lecture.
Malgrim barely manages not to flinch while Lavni touches him, then remains silent for the duration of Arimar's outburst, then adds quietly. "Thank you for the news of the crew. They were a vile lot, but they didn't deserve to die in the Calms. As for your offer." He thinks for a moment, then continues. "You have given us little reason to trust you, and more reasons to avoid you. Yet, your request would be anchored in mundane I would presume. Apparently our aid has become a commodity. What reason can you give for us to re-enter your employ?"
"What is with you?" Arimar asks, as tactless as ever, "First you deliver us to Magnimar for this Collector, then he meets with us... and then you countermand his offer with an opportunity to rekindle the lost glory of your network of whores and spies? Make up your mind about what you want from us."
A surprised look comes across her face. "The Collector has been to see you already? This is new information to me. As I said before, I was to bring you here to hear his offer, not to persuade you to join his employee. You are free to choose, but I'd rather have you work for me than him."
"I can't speak for the others, but unless you have something, anything, more to say regarding the things you've been keeping from us that is f+#+ing monumental then I believe I will be taking the other offer over yours. Caiden's Tankard, I'll take unemployment over any offer you have to make if it means I have even a one in ten better chance of avoiding being stranded in sargassum ever again."
Shaking her head, "Arimar, do you really believe that I would spill all my secrets to a group of bodyguards? No. Nor would you. But this is a different opportunity. We would be business partners. Your successes would grown our business. And of course I would share more with you pertaining to what we need done.
"But make no mistake, there will never be a time, or a person for that matter, who will know everything. You will still be on a need to know basis. Which will be more than what a bodyguard needs to know. Should you agree to join my business your first task will be to find out who ordered the hadozee to kill us. For I confess, I really do not know."
"And thank you for looking out for The Audacious. It is good to know that the crew made it to harbor without your cursed presence. Oh, and I mean 'cursed' as fact, not an insult."
"It was the least I could do."
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" What reason can you give for us to re-enter your employ?"
"Simply put, you are skilled and my business is faltering. Why wouldn't I offer you employment? You are also known to me. I have seen you slaughter beasts of the sea, and deal with transgressions against one of your own. You have acted admirably and efficiently. I would be a fool not to try and keep you.
"And not to be rude, but you are current;y unemployed are you not? How long before these two drink and whore their way back to poverty?" Mistress Lanvi looks to Benaiah and Arimar. "Oh, and I mean that as fact, not an insult."
"I'd f!#! my way back to poverty," Arimar asserts, for all the world as though he were choosing a higher ground, "Drinking holds no pleasure for me. Get it right." The man actually manages a playful wink.
"Business partners, you say?" he eventually comes around to the point, "Now you offer something interesting. What kind of share are we talking about here?"
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The tribesman watches the exchange between Arimar and Mistress Lanvi with interest, beholding the dance of two exchanging threatening words, veiled secrets, and impassioned retorts.
Perhaps these two be in love, the tattooed man thinks, watching the aasimar and Mistress Lanvi leaning in ever closer while exchanging heated words filled with restrained rage yet latent pleas.
"Me not be as invested in either them one Collector or Miss Lanvi," Keoki says at last, but it directed more toward Malgrim and Benaiah than the two exchanging words. He knows better than to interject himself between those two while they are working out their restrained passions. "This one looking for advisors, and either seem can help with such task."
Plus you three... he thinks silently to himself, while looking to Arimar, Benaiah, and Malgrim. Be making good advisors for Enya. Now all me be needing doing is convince you...
The tribesman looks to each of his companions with a knowing smile.
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Benaiah allows himself the moment of pleasure as Lanvi pays the slightest amount of attention to him, though he tries his best to hide it. I could be given all I desire, should we choose to work for the collector, or it seems I could take everything I desire by becoming partners with Lanvi. This is an interesting problem to have... To take my father's place with the collector? Or to build my own empire and house to rival his along side Mistress Lanvi?
Benaiah chuckles uncomfortably at the exchange between Lanvi and Arimar. "Easy now, play nice. It looks like we will have a choice to make."
"The crew wasn't all that bad, were they Malgrim? Those big brutes warmed up to us pretty well, and I know they never stopped being impressed with the way you called the salt to cut through those mats. That cook was a piece of work, but I've heard that can be pretty common actually among seagoing vessels. You should hear some of the stories I've heard about the cooks that dabble in alchemy along with food preparation. Angry lot..." Benaiah trails off, lost in thought before shaking his head as if trying to get rid of a bad memory.
"It seems that the hardest part of this choice we will have to make is deciding just how to go about getting what I truly want from this world. "
and figuring out what the hell that actually is...
-Posted with Wayfinder
"What kind of share are we talking about here?"
"Down to business so quickly. Reminds me of last time. So I would give you all a weekly retainer for ancillary expenses, around 100 gold pieces each.
"Then we split each job you perform 50-50. In the beginning, I will have my Handmiden assist you as an intermediately between the clients and you, as they don't know you. As we grow our business, and you take more control and you become the ones to actually find the leads, and negotiate with the clients, we split. You 80, me 20 percent of the fee.
"I am not looking for you to head out each night and scrounge around all the local taverns looking for woman, or even easing them into the business. You would work on the information gathering, and muscle side of the business. Essentially, you would be running that side of the business for me.
"Maybe you attend a high society party and steal some documents for a client, or maybe you rough up some rivals. That sort of thing."
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Benaiah looks around at the posh estate they are in, doing the math in his head.
"I could do that. Yes... I could get used to this."
The estate reminded him in many ways of the decadent home he used to live in, back before he was exiled from his home country. Back then of course, he was simply waiting for someone to hand it over to him. It was his by birthright, and nothing else.
Now that that had been stolen from him, he had adjusted to losing his birthright. He didn't like it, but he realized quickly that fretting about it wouldn't change it.
Here, however, he could change things. He could build his own empire. And that was intriguing.
"A very tempting offer, Mistress Lanvi," Arimar says without a trace of sarcasm - even managing a tone of respect for once, "And I think a more than reasonable one. Of course, we've not yet heard an exact amount from the Collector yet, so we can't make a decision right now. I'm assuming we'll all need quite the chat in private also." I wonder if anywhere is truly private from this woman. For us, at least.
"How many other 'business' partners are you attempting to recruit? I'm not such an egomaniac that I'd believe ourselves to be the only ones. Any successes so far?"
Mistress Lanvi gives Armiar a thoughtful look "Others? For this particular position? None. There is a certain combination of skill and trust that go with this potential partnership. For now, it is only you all. Make of it what you want."
With much to think about the companions exit Mistress Lanvi's office and head towards a sitting room. Turning over cushions and peering behind portraits, they do their best to sweep the room.
Finding nothing untoward, the Companions relax enough to begin to discuss their options.
Shortly into the conversation, Arimar puts his hand in his pocket and is surprised to see a folded piece of parchment. Removing it from his pocket, he sees that the letter is sealed in green wax, with an impression of a gagged skull pressed into the middle.
Breaking the seal, Arimar reads the neatly formed letters of the note out loud to the others.
Brother,
You know not what you do. You are playing a game and you don't know the rules nor the players. We want to help you navigate these troublesome waters.
Meet us at the Temple of Seranrae at the 3rd bell past noonday. Tell the acolytes that you are Looking for where the sun hits the moon.
- Ahriman
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"Ok, this is finally getting weird." Benaiah crosses his arms and raises his eyebrows to the others, stating the thing that has been obvious since The Audacious became enveloped in sargasso mats.
"One thing is perfectly clear. Lots of people not only know who we are, but are apparently watching our every move. And not have I realized it." He shakes his head in frustration at himself, putting the failure on his own shoulders, deservedly or not. "Gotta add that to the list of chemical enhancements I need to work on..." he mumbles to himself, pulling a notebook out of his haversack.
"There is definitely a game going on here, that much I will agree with Ahriman, whoever he is. Or she. Whatever. We should at least go meet another one of the players."
Malgrim looks intrigued by this new information. "We seem to have attracted a significant amount of attention in such a short amount of time. It is not something I am entirely comfortable with." He shakes his head. "I still do not trust Mistress Lavni. Whether she has more partners involved, others in mind, or is simply misrepresenting her requirements, there is something she is withholding." He then glances at the note. "It seems we are to choose between the Demon we know, the Devil we do not, or some other Outsider that has yet to reveal itself."
After a long, hesitant pause, he adds. "The note speaks of 'navigating troublesome waters.' For the record, if their offer consists of literal nautical travel, I am out."
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After hearing more of Mistress Lanvi's offer, of not only further employment but a developing, and prospering, partnership, the tribesman was surprised that he could feel himself hoping they did align with the her and her intentions in the end. He was ready to search for advisors and to continue to grow his friendship with his friends, that they might one day agree to join him in Enya. But now hearing of the mistress' offer, and more details surrounding it, he found a sour taste in his mouth at the thought of staying in this city and simply working up a business's profitability.
Now at hearing of Arimar's surprising note, somehow even found on his person, the tattooed man listened intently the contents of the letter. After the other's had asked their questions and each had their own chance to review it in detail, Keoki finally began to speak. "Me not be knowing you have a brother, Arimar. How long past time since you see Ahriman last?" he asks Arimar directly.
"You be thinking Ahriman know of them ship you talk about... The Audacious... stuck in sticky mats?" he asks. "Me mean, when he say, navigate these troublesome waters..."
"Malgrim," Arimar crosses the room to put a hand on the hobgoblin's shoulder, "I could not agree with you more. The next time I set foot on a boat, it will be the ferry that usher's me into Urgathoa's realm. For traveling long distances, I'll pay for teleport from now on."
Arimar looks puzzled at Keoki's questions at first, but answers eventually, "I don't know this 'Ahriman'. If he's meeting us at the temple of Sarenrae, then he is using the term 'brother' far too freely. As for those troublesome waters, I think we're all agreed that if he means them in the literal sense, we are out of here. Given that he seems to know of our other two business offers - one in advance - I do not doubt that he also knows of the sargassum - or at least the ramshackle manner of our arrival with the Hadozee.
"Let's meet with this man tomorrow." Arimar lets out a long sigh and pours himself a drink. He doesn't even look at the label, but from the shape of the bottle he assumes it will be something strong. He tips the entire glass into his mouth. The liquid passes over the lump of scar tissue covering his tongue, and down the leathery, long-ago burnt lining of his throat. The man always found it strange when he drank spirits. After no advance warning from his other senses, his stomach suddenly felt very warm.
"Lanvi's offer intrigues me," Arimar begins, changing the topic back to the offers at hand, "Not least of which because it leaves us with greater access to her organization's information network, and simultaneously leaves us - eventually - free to pursue our own agenda. So long as it is profitable for Lanvi or builds her business, it seems like that agenda can be whatever we want it to be. We need to expect that she will continue to withhold information at every turn, and to be surprised by things that she knew about. That galls me more than I can explain why, but if we expect it, then we can work around it.
"The thing we should really be worried about," he continues, taking another slug of whatever brown liquid it was, "Is betrayal, pure and simple. Lack of information sharing leads to mistrust. Being blindsided by things that we should have known on the Audacious (like this Collector who was interested in us), continue to erode whatever trust we may or may not have formed with this woman. If we take this task on, a healthy sense of paranoia will be required."
Arimar notices his senses becoming clouded, and a pleasant numbness in some of his limbs. He figures he has had enough. Apologies, Pallid Princess, but I need a clear head for this. Allow me to overindulge another time.
"The Collector's offer, on the other hand, is to give us all of the relevant information that he has and to have us retrieve an object," Arimar sits back down, looking markedly more relaxed, "We also get an opportunity to explore the Plane of Shadows. I like the relative simplicity and straightforwardness of the task, and the sizeable, up-front promised reward structure. 'Here is a large fee, here is the job, do you want it?' After dealing with Lanvi, it's a short, sharp breath of clean air to a man mired in a cesspool.
"Disadvantages?" Arimar turns his head, peering around the room, "We know less about the Collector than we do about Lanvi, and once the job is over there's no guarantee of another... though he has hinted."
Arimar shrugs, "So far I'm leaning towards the Collector's offer. Let's not make a decision until we have talked with this Ahriman and discovered his motivations, but how are all of you leaning?"
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"This one agrees, Arimar," Keoki says, nodding in agreement with the aasimar. "This one rather be working for them Collector. Keoki not be as looking happily ahead to working with Mistress Lanvi." The tribesman continues to smile at Arimar, appreciating his friend's detail oriented analysis of the current predicament. There were many unknowns still ahead of them all, and unformed dangers no matter which way they took. With one offer of employment still to come, the tribesman knew anything he planned on now could very well change, but he did know where he stood in the here and now.
"If be having my pick, traveling far and wide to gather advisors be Keoki's vote," he continues on. "Mistress Lanvi seeming nice and as good partner, but this one not looking forward toward staying in this city..."
"... If Keoki be having a vote."
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"MmHmmm." Benaiah presses his lips together and nods his head at Malgrim's assessment of the choices in front of them, though so far none seem like a bad idea to him.
"Heh." Benaiah grins and lets out a small chuckle at Keoki's continued slight mis-understanding of the nuances around him. He is left to wonder again at just how secluded these islands really are that the cannibal hails from.
"Aye." Benaiah grunts an agreement when Arimar refers to Ahriman likely knowing about their previous trials, and using it in clever reference in his letter.
"Yea." he grunts again in agreement to meeting with Ahriman.
"Huh? Yea..." He follows up once again as Arimar begins to discuss the merits of Lanvi's offer, and grudgingly accepts that the aasimar is right about the risk of betrayal. It is really every man and woman's weakest point. Somewhere along the line you must trust someone, must expose a vulnerable area in order to be strong on other fronts.
Was the reward worth the risk? Well, it seems that depends more on just how high the reward can get...
"Yhggn." A stifled grunt is all he manages in an effort to concur with Arimar, that they should not make a decision until they have weighed all of the options.
"Oh... Which way am I leaning?" He finally gets more than one syllable out in a row. "I'll be honest, it comes down to what I want. It's a question I have been stuck on ever since the Mouth messed with my head back in the streets. I just can't seem to put my finger on what it is. Who wouldn't want money and power, right? It seems like we could probably achieve both by allying either with Lanvi or this Collector." The big man leans over, elbows on his knees and fingers pressed against his forehead.
"At first I thought maybe I just wanted what my father had. His seat of power, his influence as a hellknight. Hell, maybe I actually want to just be a hellknight. I don't really know for sure. The more I drilled down though, the more I think on it, the more I realize that its simpler, more basic than all of that." A deep sigh and Benaiah leans back, looking at his companions. "I think what I truly want is as simple as affirmation. Acknowledgement from my father for who I am, what I have accomplished. I don't know how, or if it is even possible to gain that, but building an empire certainly seems like a good start." He stands up, suddenly feeling more sure of himself, more confident, as if admitting that out loud was what he needed to hear and feel to finally be sure.
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"'Accomplish something worthy of praise, and maybe then you will be praised'," Arimar recites quietly to no-one in particular after Benaiah has his say, "Oh, sorry, friend. That wasn't directed at you, it just came to me when you said what you said. It's something that was drilled into me by the priesthood. It's a load of pig s@~!, if you ask me. Take my advice: be yourself happy with what you have done and what you are doing, f#*$ everyone else."
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Benaiah nods his head in quiet contemplation at Arimar's advice, his eyes staring off into the distance as he absorbs the words and reconciles them against his heart.
Seems logical, smart, and correct. Application... Not so easy.
He breaths deep again and smiles at his friends. Yes, Keoki is new, but so far has given no reason not to be included in that designated group. He laments for a moment the missing Caerador, but shakes his head and moves on.
"Yes, so as to what way I am leaning. Mistress Lanvi's offer so far seems most intriguing to me. Though I will admit, whatever money and influence we could garner from this Collector would be a hell of a kickstarter to carve out our own empire from this city of monuments."
"This third player is very intriguing though. I wonder what he has to offer?"
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Malgrim sighs and draws up a pair of ten pound rough spheres of stone that he twirls in the air with slight motions of his fingers, manipulating them like stress balls. "This intrigue... I am unused to it. Most of my life has been spent where a single word seperated living from dying. Here, words are spread like flowers to hide the manure of which they spring from."
He looks to the others. "Assuming that the goddess Sarenrae does not strike you down for setting foot in her temple, it seems we are agreed to meet this mysterious contact." He adds, "I would not, however, rule out that this is a trap."
"Well, friends, shall we get some sleep? Tomorrow, let us dig through the manure of life and see if we can't spring that s!&*-stained trap Malgrim speaks of," Arimar smiles wryly, "Best be on our guard. I'll see what spells I can muster on the morrow to help us out of these troubled waters. Heh. I'm glad we're all agreed on no more ship travel."
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Benaiah flashes a look of mock fear then follows it up with a good laugh when Malgrim mentions the possibility of being struck down by the goddess for setting foot in her temple. You know, he isn't necessarily wrong...
"You know Malgrim, there are lots of reasons why I like having you around, and this is just another example. I have allowed myself to get so caught up in all of these job offers that I had forgotten someone was still trying to kill us." Benaiah chuckles and slaps the hobgoblin on the shoulder.
"I don't know about you guys, but the prospect of a trap is probably not enough to overcome my curiosity. So I think the real discussion is how we protect ourselves. An agent of Sarenrae's clergy, if they are in fact part of the temple, doesn't seem like the type of person who would be trying to take Mistress Lanvi's share of the underworld information market. If, by chance, this is a part of the recent assassination attempts, then it is most likely some divine driven agenda against us." Benaiah looks out of the corner of his eye at Arimar, a man all to familiar with such inquisitions.
"Any ideas?"
"He referred to me as 'brother', so I don't think he'd be part of the temple, just located there," Arimar asserts, "And may that accursed bìtch Pharasma take my soul if the Goddess of Healing and Redemption strikes us down for setting foot in her temple. It's just not her thing."
Arimar seems distracted, but still addresses the assassinations, "The attempts on our lives are just one of the many reasons I'm leaning away from Lanvi's offer. Our association with her has painted targets on us, and I'd just as soon wash them off. I doubt whoever is after her would follow us to the Plane of Shadows!"
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Nodding along with his friends, the tribesman remains silent while the group debates whether allying with mistress Lanvi will be dangerously hazardous to their health, and if there next meeting is in actuality, a trap. Even though he had only just met these new friends a few days before, it did not phase the tribesman to follow these men into danger. They were more than capable of protecting themselves and dealing out death and judgement. For Keoki, more important than any perspective dangers they may face, was the hope that these men, these warriors and wielders of ancient magics, would lead him to powerful advisors that would help him rule Enya when it was his own time to sit upon the Fifty Father's Throne.
Once the conversation begins to wane, and the group is ready to proceed to the hallowed temple, Keoki at last speaks up. "On our way be going to the temple to see Arimar's brother," he says, opening his backpack and checking to be sure his wrapped collection of meats is handy. "Please let us be stopping at a theater... It take a few while for this one to call on a advisor that can help. It even being useful for you friends too," The tattooed man then gently pats the backpack and the hidden morsels that lay hidden inside.
The Companions make their way down towards the center of Magnimar from Mistress Lanvi's estate in The Summit District. Though far from the most populace religion, the Temple of Sarenare is a respectable size in city as large as Magnimar. As the Companions approach the temple, the can see its towering, white marble walls surrounded by tall sunflowers growing in the sandy soil. A huge, gold-leaf door stands open to a large courtyard beyond where the companions can see a large contingent of worshipers singing joyous songs, hands outstretched to the warm sun above. Other revelers bang small brass gongs while a few others dance around.
The white walls are adorned with regularly placed gold mirrors carefully reflecting sunlight to brighten the dark corners of the temple. In between the highly polished mirrors, are sun motifs, metallic mosaics of wings, and images of doves. Hanging from the rafters are large, sky-blue banners depicting sunny skies. The floors are painted with bright yellow swatches with brown centers depicting actual sunflowers. Along each side abide niches filled with lit candles and rolled up handwritten prayers.
A large group of priests and priestesses carry woven baskets of freshly baked Dawnflower bread out of the temple as the companions head in, most likely towards the poorer districts of The Shadow.
A sun browned, middle age woman walks up to them with a wide smile. "Dawn brings new light. What can the Temple of Sarenare do for you?"
Arimar glances around, a little nervous. Sarenrae and Urgathoa weren't diametrically opposed - like the Pallid Princess was with Pharasma - but they were not exactly aligned. He certainly would not be welcome here, if they new his true nature.
"Honestly?" Arimar asks, and his companions - perhaps with the exception of Keoki - no doubt cringe as they await one of his typical religious tirades, "I could use some redemption. However, that will have to wait. For now, we are looking for where the sun hits the moon.
"Also, I would love a slice of that bread." Very occasionally, something smelled overwhelmingly tantalizing that it managed to register even in Arimar's scarred nostrils. Such morsels inevitably tasted like ash, but Arimar liked to hold it close for a smell every now and again. He was also most able to ingest such foods in quantity. Not enough to please his goddess, mind, but enough for him to actually feel full... quite an unpleasant sensation, but a holy one for him.
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Benaiah looks around the well appointed temple with an appreciation for the fine construction and attention to detail in the care and upkeep of the place. It was a bit flowery and bright for his tastes, thanks to his dark, Chelaxian heritage, but he could appreciate good craftsmanship when he saw it.
He is snapped from his thoughts and appraisal when he hears Arimar speak the code phrase, suddenly back on guard. He scans the back of the room and takes mental note of the exit they just came through. His eyes flit from one acolyte to the next, searching and judging each on their potential threat level. His hands instinctively reach for the array of potions and extracts tied to his chest underneath his cloak.
At first the woman looks upon Arimar incredulously, then her countenance falls a bit before she quickly recovers in a hearty attempt at a smile. "Where the sun hits the moon you say. Very well, if you will follow me." She turns and heads towards the eastern door. On the way there is a small alter with a loaf wrapped in yellow linen. A jagged knife rests next to it. The woman wraps her hand in her one of her flowing scarves and with a strong sawing motion slices off a hunk of bread.
Extending it to Arimar, she intones, "All who are hungry will find food here, all who are thirsty will find drink here, all who tire will find rest here, all who seek shall find here. Would any of you others care for some Dawnflower bread?"
They bread is a deep brown, crusty bread. As the Companions eat the bread, they find crunchy seeds scattered throughout. The woman scoops the crumbs with a dull knife into a cupped hand, mouths some unheard words, and scatters the crumbs on the floor. "Our waste is life to another." She looks at them with a knowing glance.
Through with her platitudes for the moment, she continues on pushing open the eastern door. A pebbly path serpentines down a slight hill towards a collection of wooden slat shacks. About 15 by 15, the shacks are well constructed with glass pane windows and elaborately carved doors. "These small houses are used for itinerant persons, be they church affiliated or just merely needing a repast on their journey. As you can see, this house in particular shows the dawn light beating back the darkness of night to bring sunshine to a new day. May Sarenrae guide your steps, and should you need any assistance, or should you have questions you wish answered, please do not hesitate to ask one of us." The shack that she leads them too has a closed door and curtained windows.
With that she turns on her heels and strides back towards the temple.
Interesting that both our deities preach about waste... Arimar muses to himself as the crumbs are allowed to fall messily to the hardwood boards. Despite himself, Arimar avoids stepping on the crumbs as he passes, out of some kind of respect for whatever vermin would feast upon them later.
"Well friends," the necromancer begins as they receive their temporary early-afternoon accomodations, "The reception at this church is certainly a lot more warm than you'll get out of Pharasma, and much more humble a meal than you'll get at mine." Arimar tucks the rest of the bread in his robe. Despite the alluring aroma and the interesting texture, he simply could not muster the saliva required to lubricate its journey down his gullet. What little he did swallow was already threatening to make a repeat appearance.
"I guess we wait?"
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Benaiah brings the loaf of crusted bread to his mouth again, munching slowly while following silently behind the group. His eyes continue to scan the people and buildings around them, paying attention to corners, shadows, and others who might be paying too much attention to them.
As the woman leaves, Benaiah lifts his hunk of bread in a silent gesture of thanks, both for the bread and the hospitality so far. He grunts and shrugs his shoulders in response to Arimar's assessment that they wait. Looking over the small hut and its design, he wonders if the words the woman said should mean anything.
As you can see, this house in particular shows the dawn light beating back the darkness of night to bring sunshine to a new day...
Unsure, he files the thought away for later use, and approaches the door. His first move is to simply open it and barge in, assuming they are supposed to wait inside for this brother of Arimar's. At the last second, he remembers his manners, and raps his knuckles several times on the wood.
As Benaiah gently raps at the door, he can hear no friendly greeting calling to him from inside, nor an angry voice telling him to piss off.
Just silence.
Arimar knows of no ban on spells within temples, so he casts a quick detect magic and scans the entrance and exterior of the hut, disguising it as always as arcane magic for any who might hear.
If he notices nothing out of the ordinary, Arimar will simply open the door and step inside. Other than their usual caution, he fears no ill will befall him that the very nearby priests will not undo. He is, after all, under their care and protection while in the temple and they are the paragons of care and protection.
Before Benaiah can turn the knob to open the door, Arimar, calls upon his dark goddess' unholy power to detect the presence of magic.
After finishing the prayer that to outsiders appeared as a necromatic incantation, he can instantly tell the presence of magical aura(s) within the 60-foot cone emanating in the direction of the shack.
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As the priestess of Sarenrae offers the snack, Malgrim politely declines to eat the bread, shaking his heavily hooded head. "Although the offer is most appreciated, I politely decline. Save your offer of aid and food for those in greater need than I."
Malgrim watches silently as the others eat their bread, thinking back to a time that he would have literally killed for such a bounty.
Warily scanning for signs of interference from inside the house or from potential onlookers, Malgrim draws a foot along the pebbles of the path, centering himself and drawing in their strength. He murmurs so softly that only his companions might hear him, As one, each pebble is but rock on the dirt. Joined together in common purpose, they form a path of journey. So too shall we carry forward."
Despite his outer calm, a frivolous thought is at the foremost of his mind: Just because you're paranoid, it doesn't mean they aren't out to get you.
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Benaiah looks at Arimar as he whispers and weaves his hands in a familiar manner that he knows to be looking for magical auras. Another familiar twinge and he knows that the man has detected something.
Benaiah reaches for the door handle, but pauses first. In a previous life, when they were systematically breaking down doors in abandoned houses or dungeons full of squatters and other undesirables he would wait for a customary signal to burst through. Even though their current intent is not so bold and aggressive, his built in training from working with two of the three men present has him looking back, waiting a few seconds longer for indication that he should enter, or hold off.
There is no immediate threat, and while he is on guard, he still does not expect anything to jump out at them, at least not in this place.
"Perhaps we are meant to wait inside?" he offers, ready to open the door when he is given the go ahead.
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As the group passes a particularly run down theater, Keoki signals for the group to follow him inside. Luckily for the tribesman, the interior is conspicuously empty. Without waiting for a worker or owner to grant approval of his actions, the tattooed man hops up on the stage and proceeds to lay out a small, finely woven blanket.
Sitting atop of the pad, Keoki unfolds a wrapped piece of cloth to reveal a desiccated morsel of meat. He does feel bad for taking up an hour of the other's time, but hopes they do not mind much and can forgive him, especially accounting for the potential benefit they might receive. After an hour of chanting with his eyes closed, and arms resting limply on his own legs, his incoherent mumblings begin to take real shape. It is then that Keoki looks up and invites the others to join him in the strange ritual, even offering up a nibble of the morsel.
After throwing his head back rather violently, when next the tribesman looks upon the others his countenance is filled with a cold, calculating air. His motions are more graceful, but reserved and deliberate. After packing up the disparate belongings, the oddly composed tribesman now pulls free a slender rod affixed with a blazing, chelish flag.
Looking back and forth to the others, the tribesman, now possessed by a particularly singular air of methodical and deliberate motion, steps to the door beside Benaiah.
"Perhaps," he begins, though his voice is oddly femanine, but in a different pitch and accent as it had been during the card games. His manner of speach is with an obvious, and crisp, chelish accent. And as he draws one arm back, knuckle tightened, he he gently draws the chelish flag behind is back with the other. "Knocking would be the most obvious and polite course of action for us. Rather the opening the door... uninvited and unbeckoned."
The tribesman then knocks on the door.
Arimar continues to concentrate on the door. "Just a moment... something magical is in there..."
At the last second, he remembers his manners, and raps his knuckles several times on the wood.
As Benaiah gently raps at the door, he can hear no friendly greeting calling to him from inside, nor an angry voice telling him to piss off.
Just silence.
"Perhaps knocking would be the most obvious and polite course of action for us. Rather the opening the door... uninvited and unbeckoned."
The tribesman then knocks on the door.
As
BenaiahKeoki gently raps at the door, he can hear no friendly greeting calling to him from inside, nor an angry voice telling him to piss off.Just silence.
As the Companions brace themselves for the inevitable trap they feel, they take turns knocking on the door and scanning the environs for signs of hostilities.
Finding none, Arimar continues to concentrate on the magical aura(s) he can feel from his cone-shaped field of vision.
He can surely detect a single moderate aura but he would need more time to determine the location and specifics of that aura.
Arimar continues to concentrate. "Nothing too strong, but still, not weak either. More... medium? No, that's not right... let's go with moderate. And for the Princess's sake, please stop knocking on the door. If they wanted to let us in, they would have done so by now."
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patience... Benaiah repeats in his mind, checking his impulsive nature to allow the aasimar to do his part in being cautious.
-Posted with Wayfinder
As the Companions stand on the pebbly road awaiting Arimar's magical deductions, they continually scan the environs for potential danger. Looking left they spy a trio of additional wooden shacks, approximately the same size. The pebbly road stretches to the far shack and smaller trails branch off leading to the shack front door. Each shack is separated by close cropped green vegetation bisected by a waist high shrubbery. The shacks stand nearly sixty-feet apart from each other.
Turning right, the companions see a nearly identical scene but this time there are four shacks.
As the seconds drag on, Malgrim continues to hold himself ready to spring into action, not allowing the feeling that they are perhaps being overly-cautious bleed through his stoic exterior. "I doubt we'll get further without opening the door. If you can discern the exact nature of the spell within it would be beneficial, otherwise I will open it."
He glances around at the grounds of the temple of Sarenrae. "Of course, if this is a trap, it is conveniently located with nearby available sources of healing." He shrugs
"When the time comes to fling open this door, and reveal what is on the other side..." Keoki begins, positioning himself near to the knob and raising one empty hand in preperation. His voice remains oddly femanine, while even his features seem cold and stern. "I think I should be the one to do it."
"You all have very specialized skills that should be leveraged if there is something which means us harm on the other side of that door," the tribesman stands with an air of confidence, and speaks slowly with a methodical droning tone. "Once Arimar has assessed the situation, just tell me when you would like the portal opened... and I will oblige."
"Just be ready to fight should the need arise."
Arimar frowns as he continues to concentrate. A small bead of sweat runs down his face. "The door itself detects as magical," he notes, "So please just wait a few moments longer so I can see what school of magic that aura originates from. Ten to one it's abjuration but best if we wait. It might also behoove us to repeat the passphrase..."
Arimar himself cannot recall it as he finds he has to return to concentration lest he lose sight of the aura. He barely has time to register that Keoki, once again, seems to have changed his speech patterns and his mannerisms. "Perfectly happy for you to be the one to open the door." Sucker.
Keoki places his hand upon the knob and give it a gentle tug.
The door doesn't budge.
Silently cursing to himself in his methodical, droning tone, he then gently pushes the door. It swing open on its rusted hinges.
Seated at a table is a man wearing a dark green robe with the cowl down his back. His small, dark eyes stare at the Companion as he rises up and becons them forward. As he reaches full height, they can see that he would be considered short of stature, close to 5 feet then 6 feet, his hair is cut as if the barber has placed a bowl upon his head and trimmed around it. From the wide leather belt, the companions can see various pouches buldging similar to one a wizard might have.
"Come in. Come in. I have been expecting you. I am Ahriman. You must be Arimar." The Companions notice that Ahriman is only looking at Arimar and seems to be ignorning the rest of you. "I m so happy that you have come. There is so much we need to talk about, so much you need to learn."
Malgrim tenses as the door is opened, every muscle taut as Keoki attempts to open the door. Then doesn't blink as the build up is blunted by the aborted attempt that causes his reflexes to scream, and then the subsequent second push.
At least there is still ground under his feet.
Once the ominous door is finally opened and its occupant is revealed, the hobgoblin can only shake his head at the deescalation of tensions. "Is this a blood relation of yours? Or are you perhaps the member of an order that lacks creativity in naming its disciples?"
Keoki tenses as the door opens, his muscles tightening as if in anticipation of a deadly strike inbound for his smooth and eerily supple neck. As the door swings along its path and opens to reveal nothing of an immediate threat, the tribesman relaxes. As a sigh of relief escapes is lungs, he monetarily hopes that the others did not notice his fear stricken posture.
Turning now, once inside the room, the tattoed man looks to Arimar for a response, or at very least recognition of who this would-be-stranger actually was.
Perhaps we should leave these two to catch up, Keoki thinks to himsel, glancing form Arimar to Ahriman. ... and maybe they really are brother's after all. Their names are certainly similar. The obvious difference between them being that this Ahriman has a better haircut...
Keoki cannot suppress and smirk, but manages to keep his mouth shut while waiting for the two to interact.
"Do you habitually not answer a knock at the door when you are expecting people?" Arimar asks, more than a little peeved at the manner of their greeting, "You must want something from me - and us - since you sent the note, but you are doing little to ingratiate yourself to us. The disingenuous use of the word 'brother' in your missive has helped that cause very little.
"We are here because we are curious about this web of whatever-it-is that we seem to have found ourselves in," the man takes a breath as he sits down, "And you say we have much to learn. Go on then, 'Ahriman', educate us. Then put and end to this genial charade and tell us what it is that you want from us. As you can no doubt tell, I am in no f#+&ing mood for games."