The man continues, "Arimar, you are at a crossroads in your life. I, we, don't want you to make the wrong decision, for it will have grave consequences.
"Mistress Lanvi, that self-serving b**$#, would sell her own mother to save herself from the Wasting Cough that she has. We have watched her roam from Bildt in the Land of the Linnorm Kings to Eleder in Sargava. She'll never be cured. Not if we have any say that is.
"You don't know who she serves, or what she'll do. We have reason to believe that she is allied with a man named The Collector, though that is not his real name. We know of him and his apostasy. She licks his boots, and will do whatever he asks. All because he told her that he can cure her. But he can't. No way. He is just using her like he uses everyone else.
"And his underboss, that a@#&+~& who calls himself The Mouth. Not really human that one. They both need to die. And all that associate with him.
"But you Arimar, you follow the truth. You know better, or at least you should. We will forgive your transgressions. We sent the mats initially to kill Lanvi, not you. You were an innocent bystandard and I am truly sorry that they did that to you.
"But when you thwarted us, well some felt that you should be dealt swift justice. And they hired the hadozee. But not me. I knew you where just ignorant. I can give them to you, for revenge.
"Now you are here, with me. And now you can repent, and throw off the shackles that hold you back. Come Arimar, join us. Leave these fools and their earthly desires behind. Join us and we will teach you The Way. We can begin by slaying these men." he waves a hand across his chest at the Companions. "And bringing them back to life to serve us forever."
"We can agree on one thing - Mistress Lanvi is a self serving bìtch," Arimar notes, a vicious smile playing over his face, "Actually, more than one thing... when these men die, they will come back from the grave to serve me forever. It is the least I can do for them. Hopefully, by then I will have enough art within me to allow them to retain their minds." Arimar has to try very hard not to look back to see the expressions on everyones' faces. Benaiah's going to leave bruises when he punishes me for that last comment.
"But do you have any idea how much grief that sargassum caused me?" Arimar stands and his eyes fling daggers at the man calling himself Ahriman, "And you speak to me of your forgiveness? Other than the fact that we are in a temple of Sarenrae, give me one good reason why we should let you live beyond the next f+!$ing minute!"
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I find it hard to believe this man is a follower of Sarenrae... Keoki thinks, continuing to let Arimar exchange words with the would-be-stranger. There were so many questions rolling around in his mind, each thought sharpened and honed by the guiding presence of Lady Gwendolyn Warwick, bringing focus and clarity to his usual internal meanderings.
"But when you thwarted us, well some felt that you should be dealt swift justice. And they hired the hadozee. But not me. I knew you where just ignorant. I can give them to you, for revenge."
A follower of Sarenrae offering up members of his own faith to Arimar for revenge... Keoki's sharp-reading eyes stare ahead at Ahriman, sizing up the man, questioning his motivations and intentions.
Turning now the stoic tribesman looks to Arimar, at last registering the man's words about raising his friends as mindless, or even mindful, undead. Arimar might be surprised... when it comes to it... if this one first honors Arimar and brings him back to Enya as an advisor.
I made the same mistake of thinking of could best this cannibal... and now I'm stuck here, forced to haunt this tattoed body when called upon, the woman's voice laments from within Keoki's head, as an automated and unthinking smirk parts the cannibal's lips.
Ahriman gives Arimar a bewildering look. "I am not sure I understand you. You do not threaten me. Ever. You shall be my apprentice as I teach you The Way, and that is how it will be. If you wish to die today, then so be it. I shall raise you to serve me in undeath if that is what you perefer. But dead or alive, you are and always will be mine."
"I've only heard of one way, when it comes to those who raise the dead," the tribesman says, bringing the chelish flag into view, still clutched in one hand. "... the Whispering Way," the tattooed man finishes this last comment in a sultry whisper of his own, the timbre of his voice taking on a more femanine cast with each syllable uttered. The odd juxtaposition of his tribal frame, covered in darkly blotchy, geometric tattooes yet speaking with the pitch, elegance, and practiced care of a chelish noblewoman is discomforting and off-putting to say the least.
"You say Arimar is yours, in life or death," the tribesman's femanine voice continues. "I say, the only way to express ones freedom is to defy those who think they control you..."
"You expect me to just betray my companions and join you when you have given me nothing except to say that you orchestrated the worst three weeks of my life?" Arimar stands, getting more and more agitated, "You'll have to do a lot better than that with some threats to get me to join you. I had no interest in the followers of Tar-Baphon before (assuming Keoki is indeed correct) and you've done nothing to ingratiate yourself now."
Arimar looks more likely to leave than to fight, but unconsciously thumbs the area near where his holy symbol is covered by make up and a thin strip of alchemical skin, ready to reveal it should spell casting become necessary.
After the ever-present dangers of the sea that threatened their lives daily over the course of the past few weeks and the intrigue that has plagued them, finally here was an adversary that could be adequately met... provided of course that this stranger wasn't merely a projection. Yet there still remained valuable insight that could be gained from continuing dialog. Quickly he weighed the possibilities in this head.
"Despite his assertions, Ahriman clearly is not your Brother and is just as clearly wasting our time." After giving a pause to allow the other man an opportunity to respond, he adds. "We must leave this of a man."
Always be wary when fighting a foe on their own chosen ground.
Malgrim remains ready and defensively-minded should combat break out, although he motions towards the door.
Spittle flying from his lips, rage takes Ahriman. ' I offer you a position of power in The Way, I offer to teach you secrets none know, I offer you revenge and you say ! This farce is at an end. If you will not come willingly then we will take you."
His tirade ended, he slumps down in his chair with a resigned expression.
"The only revenge I desire is against you and your ilk for what you have foisted upon us thus far," Arimar notes, "And you have offered me a position in some ephemeral organisation that I really know very little of and have no desire to join. You have told us very little that we did not already know, so I will tell you something I have found occasion to say all too often these days: go f&!$ yourself."
With that, Arimar turns and opens the door to stride out.
At the threshold, Arimar is struck by a sudden question and turns to Ahriman, "Why does the Whispering Way give a s*+& about us, given that we were just Lanvi's bodyguards? We did a good job and thwarted both attempts at Lanvi's life, but we are no longer employed by that feckless has-been. Hell, enough money and finesse, maybe you could have convinced us to do it... so why try to get me to join you in killing my friends here and now? What the f%*~ have we done - and who are we to you - that we would cause your organization to piss away its resources like that?"
"I wouldn't advise asking so many questions of a man that seems hellbent to speak in riddles and ambiguities," calls the now femanine voice passing through Koeki's lips. "He wasn't willing to provide any answers before... I doubt he will now."
"Best to take our leave of him, before this escalates further and we end up in a fight..."
"Leave him to his devices and plotting, let us be gone from him."
Barely looking up, Ahriman responds. "It was your association with Mistress Lanvi that brought you to our attention. And it was your skill in controlling the undead that attracted us. Our goal is to bring all who wish to control the undead into the Way. You will join us, or die and then join us. Either way, we get what we want. Your friends mean nothing to us. And will die.
"As a welcoming gift to you, I shall allow you to keep their bodies. The more powerful you grow, the more you learn, I shall let you, one by one, bring them back to life and control them.
"You could be so powerful. But you are so unwise. We shall teach you. We have forever."
Creating and controlling the undead means that The Way wants me? Is this the only reason the Church of Urgathoa wanted me? The only reason I was saved? Arimar tries but fails to shake a fog from his head. "They are but tools, and creating them is not an evil unto itself. Yet your organization wants me for the fact alone that I do it. It seems I am doomed to be misunderstood by both those who are against me, and those who want me with them.
"You are right that we will die," Arimar notes as he lets Keoki usher him out of the house and into the courtyard, "It is inevitable. What happens after death, well... not all of us get to decide. I decide, though. I am in control." Say it enough and maybe you'll believe it, idiot.
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Benaiah stifles a belly laugh at the suggestion that Arimar kill his companions to raise them... him from the dead. When the aasimar suggests that Benaiah's fate is to serve after he passes through death's door he flashes a dirty look. Before he can deliver a solid punch to his shoulder, however, the tension in the room escalates.
He looks over to Keoki, in his strange, feminine ways, then looks back to Arimar.
Both seem to want me to serve them in death in some way. What the hell am I really doing here?
Oh yea, I'm probably not long for this life, and what the f*&$ do I care what happens to me after I die?
He puffs out his chest as his companions walk out the door, realizing that it doesn't appear things will devolve into a fight just yet. "You try to kill us all again and I'll show you just exactly what happened to the Hadozee." With that, he turns on his heel and walks out the door.
Once outside, he punches Arimar in the shoulder. "Just promise you won't expedite the process." he says with a scowl, then follows with a smirk.
As Arimar opens the door, Keoki next to him, and Benaiah just behind them, the companions can see a woman dressed in identical robes as Ahriman standing between the wooden shack and the doorway back into the temple of Sarenrae. She is standing with her arms crossed, and a look of triumph on her face. Behind her stand four monsters resembling humanoids dressed in tattered rags. Rotted flesh reveals corded muscles and sinew stretched tightly over their skeleton. Hollow eye sockets flicker with a hellish glow. Broken and rotted teeth line their mouths, and their hands end in wicked claws. The four undead turn as one and shamble towards the temple doorway. They extend their clawed hands pushing against the closed carved wooden doors while they scoot their feet backwards into the earth to brace the door shut. Even from this distance, the Companions can hear bangs from the other side of the door and can see small clouds of dust billow up from under the doorway. Someone must be trying to come through the doorway and the monsters are holding it closed.
Out of nowhere a shot woman appears holding the hilt of a greatsword. She swings at Arimar. The greatsword slices right into the hapless necromancer.
The blade slides between his ribs narrowly missing his heart. All watch as she slowly withdraws it. Dressed in a beautiful chain shirt with a darkened cloak over it, her blade drips blood onto the pebbled path. Incredibly, she seems to then disappear before their eyes.
Arimar throws up blood as a reaction to the shock and pain of the blade piercing his flesh. He staggers back away from the direction at which he was attacked , behind the defensive line of his more martial companions and grips his amulet. He calls to mind a spell he had not thought to memorize until now, and drains the power from his amulet to reveal this bìtch.
As a precaution, he casts defensively.
"Invisibility purge," he chants, grinning.
Almost acting on pure instinct, Arimar also takes the time to conceal the casting as sorcerer spell, dispel magic would probably do.
Incredibly, she seems to then disappear before their eyes.
After stepping back 5 feet from Arimar, and the Companions really look at her, they can see she is shimmering like the light around a very hot rock, though they feel no heat. It is almost as if she is blurry.
Arimar steps further back to allow his martially-oriented companions better access to the opponents, and to act as a meat shield for himself . So positioned, he calls upon his amulet for a spell of healing. He hums along to disguise it as a bard spell.
Arimar cries out as loud as he can, hoping some of the temple guards can hear him. No need to do this alone if they could avoid it.
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"Looks like we don't have to wait to off these F*$^%ers!" Benaiah says with a little too much glee. He grimaces the instant that Arimar is cut deeply, and his face flushes a deep crimson.
"You are going to pay for that! I will repay your treachery ten-fold!" Spittle flies from his mouth as his anger builds. In the back of his mind he feels the call of that voice, the pesh-induced haze that unlocks the unholy power inside of his body.
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Almost stumbling backward by the surprising turn of events as the attack unfolds with brutal efficiency. Luckily he is quick to regains his wits, the benefits of a tough upbringing amidst savages and cannibals. Reaching down the tribesman grasps the hilt of the exquisite katana, stepping forward at the shimmering thing which has swung at Arimar.
With a grunt he pulls the blade free and finishes his motion, interposing himself between the creature and Arimar.
"If we can move closer to those undead," Arimar remarks, "I might be able to get enough of them to pull on the door to allow the Sarenites egress. Within thirty feet should do it."
"How can this be happening so close to the temple?" his femanine voice questions aloud. "Why would they choose to meet us here... something doesn't add up about all of this." His thought trails off before voicing a conclusion.
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"Good point," Arimar notes, Arimar hopes they can hear him.
Swinging his ancestral katana in an effort to provide some cover to the wounded necromancer, Keoki's swing goes wide of the shimmering woman before him.
The Robed Woman turns to look over her shoulder at the undead temporarily holding the door against the Seranrite's attempts to bust down the door. She turns back to the scene before her. Titling her head back, her laughter can be heard above the din of battle. "Ahriman you fool. Watch your pet die, and then I shall claim him."
She extends her hands to either side of her, fingers spread, palms facing outward. Walking towards the Companions, she begins chanting in a high, clear voice.
"My dear Lady Despair. Please bathe this battlefield in your unholy power. Weaken our enemies, though they are great in numbers, and strengthen our hands to show all your power and majesty."
A wave of energy crashes into all the companions. They can all feel a bit of their strength sapped, a bit of their fight leave them, a bit of fear creep into their stomachs.
The sword's woman looks at the beautiful katana that almost sliced her open, and gives Keoki an apprising stare. Leaning back, left foot extended forward, she raises the hilt of her greatsword to her face with the blade extended towards him.
"Valiant warrior. May you find peace in death." she whispers as she whips the sword blade towards Keoki in an impressive display of strength. Her wrists snap with the torque required to achieve such speed and accuracy.
The blade opens a deep gash across his chest. Using the momentum of the swing to her advantage, she pivots in a full circle, raising the sword high, and cutting towards Keoki's knee in a crippling move meant to down her opponent.
The blade cuts the knee deeply, spilling blood down his ruined leg. Unable to support himself, he falls unconscious to the ground.
She pulls the blade to an upright position, and crouches down in a defensive posture, looking for her next opponent.
"Benaiah, grab her!" shouts Arimar, "Stop her from getting that swing in!"
"Malgrim, want to help me deal with the freak in the robes?" Arimar asks, rushing up toward the undead.
Huffing and panting, once Arimar gets there he calls out to the creatures in a strange voice, "Stop blocking the door, and pull any who still block the door away from the door", Aarimar commands in the black tongue of necromancy.
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Like the rush of water over a shattered dam, Benaiah allows himself to be overwhelmed by the chemical high in his brain that brings so much power to his physical form. His face flushes red, and the voice in his head roars with glee.
No intelligible sound escapes his lips, only a primal growl that emanates from deep within his chest. "GnnnnaaaaaaarrrrrrGGGHHHHHHH!" The sound precedes his hurtling body by a split second as he crashes, arms wide, into the devastating warrior that has cut his companions so deep already.
If an undead creature is under the control of another creature, you must make an opposed Charisma check whenever your orders conflict.
The monsters stop what they are doing at look at the robed woman and then at Arimar, and then at the robed woman, and then at Arimar. Unsure of what to do the doors begins to budge open. The companions can see temple guards and clery bustling to open the door.
The monsters are now fully under the commmand of Arimar and move out of the way. The Searanrites start pouring in the courtyard.
While the rest of his companions rush into action, Malgrim surveys the scene carefully. Perhaps his care might err on the side of Delay, but given their present location in the Temple of Sarenrae, making rash moves like commanding a small army of undead could be disastrous.
So, of course, that's that happened.
Now that combat was unavoidable, he springs into action, gathering together a double handful of pebbles to hang in the air half a second before shaping them into a missile which he hurls at the robed woman.
The enraged Chelaxian sets his sights on the swordswoman. He barrels past Arimar, and hops over the downed Keoki to extend both arms to embrace her in a bear hug. Rocking back slightly on her heels, she leans forward to gain momentum on the balls of her feet as once again her greatsword whips around and cuts through steel, flesh and bone.
Benaiah is no stranger to pain and suffering a gives a grunt of pain as the sword bites deep into his side. As the swordswoman turns to put some distance between herself and the enraged Chelaxian, Benaiah grabs out. Bleeding profusely, he is able to lock his arm around hers. She turns and stares at him, anger clouding her face.
Malgrim once again takes some time to reach out and gather the rhythmic energy of the bedrock below their feet. Feeling joy that is it not the water and ocean under him, a smirk spreads on his face. The pebbles from the path rise up and form into an arrow shape. Flinging both hands forward, the earthen missile rockets towards the robed woman. She instinctively ducks at the mass files harmless past her. She gives Malgrim a triumphtive smile as it crashes harmlessly behind her.
As the doors from the temple are no longer barred by the undead, the Sarenrites flood into the courtyard. Scimitars bared, acolytes and guards dressed in flowing scarves begins to flood in.
The robed woman begins to quickly surveys the situation, turns, and runs away at an incredible speed heading for a nearby shack.
The swordswoman uses her free hand to downward chop Benaiah's grip on her.
Her blow is strong and swift causing the enraged man to loose his grip on her. She retreats with her sword before her.
The Temple Guards begin to fan out to either side creating a perimeter, while a group of younger looking acolyte circle the monsters. Their scimitars bared facing unholy creations before them, they are unsure what to do. Their hilts tremble slightly in their hands.
A small group of clergy move towards the melee. A older woman, grey streaking her deep black hair, ornately jeweled and with an air of authority address everyone. "Someone get that woman." she points to the retreating robed woman. A small contingent of clergy disengage and sprint after her. Based upon their current speed, they have no chance of catching her. Turning to the Companions and swordswoman, she yells "The rest of you, 'Drop your weapons!'. Make no move to retrieve them. Begin to cast a spell and you will be shot instantly." the temple guards pull back on their bow strings sweeping back and forth to cover the different targets.
"We will escort you all insi ..... " Shaking her head in disbelief, "One of you has dared desecrate our holy ground with vile energy. Sweet Sarenrae, cleanse this space, your dedicated holy space, of the foul energy that has manifested here."
A warm corona light emanates from her body and burst across the filed. The Companions can feel a warmth of the noon-day-sun wash over them. Feeling slightly flush, everything around them feels a little brighter, a little crisper, a little sharper.
"I have no weapon drawn," Arimar notes, "But we are the ones who have been attacked here, and may still need to defend ourselves if she continues to attack us. My friend is bleeding to death on the ground, please help him." Arimar indicates Keoki and the spreading pool of blood beneath him.
"And for you mistress's sake, please channel positive energy and destroy these things," Arimar urges. Or they might reveal themselves to be currently under my control... and that's a whole different set of questions I'd rather not answer.
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Benaiah growls as the woman hits a reflex point, causing him to lose his grip. Though he is unwilling to let the devil woman get away, he winces at the pain her sword caused once already as he wrapped her up. He looks over his shoulder at the temple guards, leveling their bows at everyone. With reluctance, he allows the chemical enchancement to flow from his mind, bringing with it the inevitable crash from such a high. He puts his hands on his knees and sucks wind for a few seconds until the adrenaline finishes leaking from his system. It is at that point that the sharp pain from the wound hits him full force.
"Gnnnaaaa!!! Just shoot the witch, she isn't going to surrender and your pathetic arrows won't bring her down. Let me finish it!" he shouts between gasps of breath.
Malgrim looks to the fleeing woman, then to his downed companion. Although Keoki had not been traveling with him long, stopping the escaping pawn was not worth the risk of jeopardizing the aid his wounded ally might receive. He holds out his hands palms up, keeping his hood covering the majority of his face as he quietly speaks. "I have no weapons nor spells to cast. I may stop the one that defiled your grounds if you wish of it, but please assist our companion."
As the Companions stand down the clergy of Sarenrae continue to chase the robed woman. From afar it appears that she is barricaded in a nearby shack. Acolytes can be seen ramming the door before some break the glass to gain egress into the shack.
More importantly, they notice that the swordswoman has yet to comply with the directive to drop her weapon. She fans her fingers on the hilt, before tightening her grip. She squints her eyes and swings at Benaiah in an impossibly fast arc.
Before her steal can connect with his flesh, the loud twang of multiple bow strings can be heard. Benaiah is momentarily taken back to his youth, likening the sound to that of the orchestra warming up in distant Cheliax.
Four arrows pepper into the swordswoman striking her all over her body. She spasms like a stringed doll controlled by a hyper child. Somehow, someway, she finds a way to swing at Benaiah.
The obvious leader of the Seranrite clergy gasps loudly, before taking a step forward and pointing towards the swordswoman. "Take her. But take her alive. No more will die this day except those who are already dead. You there." and she turns to the acolytes surrounding the undead. "Cleanse this temple and destroy those undead." Some close their eyes and draw upon their inner power granted from Seranrae, while others utter prayers to their goddess. The waves of positive energy radiating from the clerics and the rays of holy energy flying from outstretched hands are enough to quickly destroy the undead monsters. A few clerics form a circle holding hands and begin to chant. The undead remains and the ground beneath them are bathed in light, consecrated as holy. "And someone heal that man. None will die here today. At least not on my watch."
Temple guards armed with various polearms move in past the Companions to encircle the swordswoman while clerics pull Keoki out of the ever tightening ring.
One clergyman lays his hands upon the unconscious cannibal, infusing his body with holy healing power.
The swordswoman can be seen chopping at the wooden shafts of halbreds and glaives alike before she succumbs to the mass of humanity that overwhelms her. Her unconscious form is loaded on a litter and dragged towards the open door to the temple proper.
The priestess approaches the companions. "What a day this has been. There have been more days without violence at this temple than there are sunflower petals in a field. I am Kahina. Please, come with me. You must forgive us, but before we can fully tend to your wounded, we must ask you some questions." A contingent of guards form up around you.