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The powerful arm of the king stretches down to rest upon Keoki's shoulder, and the child glances up to see his father looking down with a smile. The pair strides beneath the reaching boughs of the jungle around them, the air exceedingly hot, stagnant, and so thick with humidity that it seemed to have its own weight. At least the overlapping canopy of thick, green leaves yawned and sprawled above them, creating some much appreciated shade.
"One day, son," Akikonu, the mighty and powerful king spoke to his child, his voice was deep and rumbling. Their words if heard by any civilized people would have been considered oddly disjointed with what seemed random changes in inflection and pitch, and always punctuated by many pregnant pauses. "You will rule this land. But you are not ready. Not yet. There is much more of this world that you must know of. Many dangers you must face. And much help to gather."
"You cannot hope to rule, justly and honorably, without help," Akikonu paused then as the two came upon a clearing. Ahead a cluster of native Enyans worked to carve out a particularly slender trunk into what would become a sleek canoe. Nearby to these workers, another group was set to mixing a paste of some kind, and peeking above the edges of earthen jar was a liquid gleaming scarlet in the sun that would soon paint the vessel. "You will go now and this will carry you far from here."
"You have already collected two of those who will advise you. The tian thief and the chelish ship captain. But you must find more,"
"Always keep a weather-eye open for the strongest, most knowledgeable, and most charismatic people you can. I find that varisians taste the best, but you will find out for yourself where your tastes fall."
"When your journey is over and you have found your champions... your advisors. I pray you will return to me."
"Only then can we fight to the death to see if you are worthy to sit upon the Fifty Father's Throne..."
The tribesman opens his eyes with a start as the healing magic rushes into him and surges to every corner of his body. He can feel the very essence of life flowing into him where once the cold, tightening grip of death held fast.
"This one thanks you for bringing him back from beyond the brink," the tattooed man speaks in a reserved, delicate tone, too feminine to be his true voice.
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Benaiah cocks his eyebrows at the effectiveness of the clerics in overwhelming the warrior woman. "Heh, Thought for sure she was going to cut half of you down." Thought for sure she was going to cut me down...
With the warrior woman subdued, and the robed woman obstensibly trapped in a shack, Benaiah raises his hands high into the air, and out to his sides. "We aren't trying to start anything here, and I'm not dumb enough to finish what these a-holes started, now that you are all here." he says, trying to diffuse any hostilities towards himself and his companions. "Ahriman, the man inside this shack invited us here to speak with us. What we didn't know was that he wanted to kill us all and raise us all as undead minions. Out of respect for your temple, we didn't kill him on the spot. When we were leaving, we were ambushed by these two women and that gaggle of zombies you just eliminated. Go ahead and use your divine magics to discern the truth of what I just said, I'm not worried about what you will see."
"You talk too much, Benaiah, they haven't even asked us any questions yet," Arimar scalds his friend, rolling his eyes and sighing before turning to the Sarenites, "I will come willingly, and thank you for rescuing us. It is a shock to me also that the sanctity of your temple was so violated without your knowledge. I had thought this a safe place, and we nearly lost our lives for that mistake - and for yours."
That's it, Arimar, the best defense is a healthy offense. These incompetents are at least partially responsible for the mess you find yourself in. Now if Benaiah shuts up, they may just forget to ask about why Ahriman wants us as his undead minions... Arimar shots another sideways glance at his overly loquacious companion.
"At any rate, thank you for healing Keoki," he adds, a little too late.
As Benaiah launches into a explanation of why they are here, Kahina puts up a hand before Arimar can intercede, stopping the large man. "Peace. Peace. Now is not the time nor the place.
"Again my apologies. I know that some of you are gravely injured, and I swear true as the sun will rise tomorrow that if you are innocent of the atrocities that occurred here, we shall heal you and send you peacefully on your way." Kahina explains. She is flanked by a half-score attendants and a score of temple guards. "We are doubling the watch and calling in assistance from some other temples to assist us with this mess so rest assured you are safe. If you please, my clergy will see to your immediate personal needs, and ask some questions." She walks them back into the temple proper where the silence is deafening. No longer can the Companions hear the boisterousness sounds of praise to the Dawnflower, but instead small bunches of clerics whisper in hushed tones to one another. Some are even so bold as to point to the Companions.
"No matter what edict I decree, this will be the talk of generations. Undead holding the door of the temple of Sarenrae closed. What have I done to deserve this?" she utters this rhetorical question to the heavens above. "No matter, like the flower that withstands the storm, so too shall I persevere." Reaching onto her belt, she grabs a heavy ring of iron keys. Fumbling slightly, she unlocks a heavy paneled wooden door. Ahead, newly lit torches line wall sconces illuminating a descending spiral staircase. "If you please?" A handful of guards rush forward hand on hilt, or finger on trigger. The steps slowly descend to a long hallway with numerous doors on either side. An iron cross-bar opening in the doors give the Companions a view into the room. Close to 10 feet by 10 feet, each room contains a desk, two chairs, and a pail in the corner. Kahina unlocks the first door and signals to Arimar, "If you would wait here please?
Kahina unlocks the next door and signals to Benaiah, "If you would wait here please?
Kahina unlocks the next door and signals to Keoki, "If you would wait here please?
Kahina unlocks the next door and signals to Malgrim, "If you would wait here please?
"Hello. Please tell me your name and how you have come to know your traveling companions."
"What brings you to the Temple of Sarenrae? Evidence?"
"Please tell me what happened prior to the melee we witnessed."
"Please tell me what started that melee?
"How did you get injured?"
"Tell me about the undead. Where did they come from? Who told them to block the door? Why did they suddenly stop barring the door?"
"Who are the two woman that fought against you? What do you know of them?
"Is there anything else that you wish me to know?"
"Of course," Arimar bows and enters the room. I've got no choice in this, so I might as well play nice for these 'precious flowers'. He turns to his companions and adds, "Tell 'em the truth boys, but mind not to say more than you absolutely have to. I've been in spots like this before and if the innocent talk long enough, they can all be found guilty of something."
"Arimar, and I don't really see the relevance of that question," Arimar notes. When she does not look amused at his reticence he sighs, "Malgrim and Benaiah were mercenary friends of mine from way back, we met on the job. We later became Pathfinders, quit the society and travelled to Magnimar for gainful employment.
"Keoki, we met along the way after our ship became mired in the Dead Calms, and we sought the aid of his friend, some freak oracle whose name escapes me right now," Arimar scratches his head, genuinely unable to recall the man's name, "Keoki asked to come along, and our friend was lost to us after a particularly nasty battle with a haunt, so we agreed. Four hands are better than three."
"Evidence? What do you mean? You want me to provide some, then fine." Arimar reaches into his pocket to produce the note from Ahriman. "Here you go. This shows you the reason we came. We were intrigued."
"Well, we met with this Ahriman who calls himself 'brother' - though he is no brother of mine," Arimar huffs, "He wanted me to join his order - 'The Way' he called it - and with no further explanation demanded that I kill my friends. I told him to f&$+ himself and we left."
"We left the hut and then that b*~+# swordswoman struck us from the shadows," Arimar states flatly.
"Well, I was the first one she attacked," he notes dryly.
"The woman in the robes, I'm assuming, brought them in. She controlled them," Arimar is very careful with his next words, though he tries to appear nonchalant, "They stopped barring the door because she lost control of them." Arimar hopes against hope that she will stop her questioning there.
"No idea, save that they're likely allied with Ahriman and almost certainly from the same organization he is from," Arimar shrugs.
"My companions and I have done nothing wrong within your temple. We have broken no laws. We have come as guests and been assaulted. I understand you need to question us, but the matter is now resolved and I would assume you would like to go about shoring up the holes your establishment's defenses," Arimar raises an eyebrow to accentuate his final point, "Unless, of course, you no longer wish the House of Sarenrae to be a sanctuary."
"Of course," says the odd voice the large tribal man, as he enters the room. "We have noting to hide from you."
"Hello. Please tell me your name and how you have come to know your traveling companions."
"This one's name is Keoki. He hails from a small island which the shackles, known as Enya. Governed by tribal, savage law."
"These companions were met a short time ago. This one was visiting an oracle and by chance met these three. The hope had been to convince the oracle to be an advisor on his home island of Enya. However, seeing as how the oracle was crazy, this one decided instead to try and convince these three to be advisors instead."
"What brings you to the Temple of Sarenrae? Evidence?"
"We were invited to the temple my one calling himself, Ahriman. He left us a message to meet him here, and we assumed he was part of your order."
"Please tell me what happened prior to the melee we witnessed."
"Upon our arrival, we were led to the small shack, and inside met Ahriman. He instructed Arimar to kill us and join him. But he never rightly said to which organization he belonged. He only hinted about it in whispers."
"Spirning Ahriman's advances, we left with all haste, hoping to avoid a fight. Especially after realizing he was not with your order."
"Please tell me what started that melee?"
"Upon exiting the building, out of nowhere a short woman appeared holding the hilt of a greatsword. She cut into my companion, Arimar."
"How did you get injured?"
"This one tried to defend Arimar from the short woman with the greatsword, and she cut me down. She nearly killed me, but thanks to your order, I was saved."
"Tell me about the undead. Where did they come from? Who told them to block the door? Why did they suddenly stop barring the door?"
"Upon exiting the shack, we three saw a woman dressed in identical robes as Ahriman and standing between the wooden shack and the doorway back into the temple. Behind her stood four monsters resembling humanoids dressed in tattered rags. Rotted flesh revealed corded muscles and sinew that stretched tightly over their skeletons. These were the undead you are referring to. Controlled by Ahriman or one of the two women, most likely."
"The four undead shambled toward the temple doorway and braced to keep the door shut. But which of those three gave the order, I do not know. Then I was cut down soon after, so I don't know what happened until I was brought back from the brink..."
"Who are the two woman that fought against you? What do you know of them?
"Basically nothing. They seemed to be aligned with Ahriman. We attempted to leave Ahriman, as I stated, without violence. But these two women were waiting for us, as were the undead that one of them controlled."
"Is there anything else that you wish me to know?"
"No. Are we free to go?"
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Benaiah shrugs as he is directed to a room, nodding to Arimar and his ever-present, though often useful, paranoia.
Just because you are paranoid, doesn't mean that someone isn't out to get you... he muses.
"Little formal in here eh? Nothing like making a man feel like whatever happened was all his fault right?" he says with a scowl on his face, feeling defensive from the beginning at the excess guards and the seemingly intentional lack of hospitality and poor offerings.
Brushing away the food and water, he folds his arms across his chest and leans back in the chair. It creaks and groans, threatening to shatter from his bulk.
"Benaiah is my name, and while you might have time for the whole story on how I came to know them, I don't want to be here long enough to tell it. Suffice it to say that we used to be pathfinders, and now we aren't." Benaiah doesn't move from his relaxed position.
"We came to the temple to meet with a man we hadn't met before. We assumed it would be a safe place in case he wasn't who we thought he might be. Looks like we were wrong on both accounts." he says with an eyebrow raised.
"What happened prior to the melee? We were talking with Arihman, or whatever his name was, if that really was his name. It's like I said outside, he said he wanted us to become his undead minions. Over my dead body! Yea, I didn't actually say that, but I thought it. Ha! C'mon, that was funny right?" Benaiah almost doubles over at his own joke, slapping his knee with his face turning red with laughter. When he doesn't get a response, he leans back to his previous position, crosses his arms and rolls his eyes. "Sheesh, you guys need to lighten up. Seriously though, we told him to stuff it and we tried to leave. That's when we got ambushed. Apparently he wasn't going to take no for an answer."
"What started the melee? I don't know. Or more appropriate, I just told you. I assume it is because that d-bag wasn't going to take no for an answer when we walked out. See, we thought it might be a bad idea to kill a man on your temple grounds..." Though I certainly wanted to, for assuming what he assumed... Benaiah cuts himself off, but cannot stop the thought from passing through his mind anyways. He shuffles in his seat, his scowl back on his face as he tries to dismiss the memory.
"Injured? That sword-witch tried to hack my friends apart. You saw Keoki nearly dead on the ground, I was trying to stop her. It's probably a good thing you showed up finally when you did, because I wouldn't have had the restraint to not squeeze her head right off her shoulders. She cut me pretty good when I tried to grab her."
"The fight was a bit of a blur to me, it started and was over so fast. All I know is one of the women shouted at the zombies, I think at least. To be perfectly honest, I didn't even really register in my mind that they were there, all I saw was Keoki getting cut down and I tried to stop the wench that did it. The whole thing is pretty hazy." Benaiah shakes his head, a subconscious action that mimics the same when his haze subsides, the haze that brings with it a surge of power.
Benaiah raises an eyebrow as they ask him about the two women, then shrugs his shoulders in annoyance. "You already know more about those two women than I do. I already told you, we walked out of that shack and got ambushed. Never met them before." And if I ever meet them again, I'll introduce them to whatever deity waits for them on the other side of this life.
"Anything else I want you to know? Yes. I want you to know that I want to leave." Benaiah leans forward, placing his hands on the desk. He begins to push himself and the chair out from the table, expecting they will let him go.
Unfortunately, the chair has simply had enough of the large man's bulk. With a shriek and a groan, the chair finally gives up the strenuous effort of holding him up and shatters beneath him. Benaiah's rump bounces off of the floor with an unceremonious thump. Scowling even more, he brushes away any who try to help him and braces his good arm beneath him, pushing himself back up to his feet.
With a few quick strokes, he brushes the dust off of his tunic and turns towards the door. "Which way back to topside?" he says, shrugging his backpack securely onto his shoulders.
Malgrim waits for the others to accept their individual rooms, then shrugs and heads into his own.
"Hello. If you please, I am most interested in how a hobgoblin chanced to join this intrepid group of adventures. It is a most unconventional occurrence."
Malgrim pulls back his hood, revealing his pointed ears and goblinoid features, now that his origins were known. "The Open Road makes strange companions, it would appear. I sadly do not know how common this might be, as most others I have encountered cannot look past my skin. As for the how, it is not relevant to what transpired this day, though our journeys together have been extensive."
"What brings you to the Temple of Sarenrae? Evidence?"
"My companions and I are between employment, having just arrived in the city after a rather disastrous voyage that has made me hope to never be on a ship again. Since our arrival, we have received word of a number of job opportunities. I do not know if this is how things usually are in this city, but it seems that potential employers are unusually circumspect. The latest came in the form of a cryptic message to meet a contact here. There was a note... I am unsure what may have happened with it."
"Please tell me what happened prior to the melee we witnessed."
"We came to meet the contact in one of your buildings, right by where we were attacked. Inside was a strange man that was only interested in the services of one of my companions, and threatened to kill the rest of us. I... do not fully understand what occurred. The only logical sense would be that this was a reprisal for our involvement with a previous employer, but even that strains belief."
"Please tell me what started that melee? "Tell me about the undead. Where did they come from? Who told them to block the door? Why did they suddenly stop barring the door?"
"After deciding that something other than a job offer was taking place, I initiated our leaving the strange man inside the building. Immediately outside, though we were ambushed by the woman with the greatsword. I believe that at that time the robed woman that escaped was controlling the undead to bar the intervention of your forces. How they managed to get undead into a Temple of Sarenrae, I cannot even begin to wonder. As to why they stopped... I can only assume that the woman commanding them lost control as she fled. Assuming your goddess did not have some part in that, that is."
"Who are the two woman that fought against you? What do you know of them?
"I know little to nothing about them, beyond that they are dangerous and attacked us in cold blood. They also seem to be in league with whomever set up a trap for us here."
"Is there anything else that you wish me to know?"[/b]
Malgrim thinks for a long moment, considering his words.
"It would seem I have more questions than answers. Who were the assailants, and why would someone attack us here, using undead, in the center of a temple of Light and Healing? Given the resources they appeared to have had, they could have made a much more effective trap in numerous ways. Unless the attack here served some other purpose, as a diversion?" He considers that for a moment. "I wonder what such a diversion might have accomplished here?" He shrugs, then returns to the interrogation. "I realize that all of this seems suspect and full of holes, which I myself would like answers to. I can assure you, though, that I have not survived this long in drawing attention to myself and my nature. Finding myself in an armed, open conflict involving undead in your temple is nearly furthest from where I would prefer to be."
He folds his arms.
Keoki glances down. He can see the linen saturated with blood, and small trickles spilling down his arms and chest.
"By all accounts, you should be healed by now. But you aren't. If it is ok with you, I would like to have Kahina look at that."
After waiting moments, Keoki starts to fell lightheaded. Gulping the tepid water down, he can feel the room starting to spin. The cleric rushes to his side and kneels next to him. Uttering desperate prayers to Sarenrae, Keoki can feel the warmth of healing spread through his body. But no sooner does it enter him, than the heat dissipates. The coldness, the numbness start to take over his body once again.
Come. Time to see what man you are. I hope that you have found all you need to best me. Time to see who shall rule the Fifty Father's Throne.
The last thing that Keoki can see is Kahina rushing into the room as he falls off the chair into the cleric's arms.
When the Companions mentions Ahriman, the clerics puts up a hand to stop them. He calls a guard from outside the room who quickly enters. Whispering into the guard's ear, the guard quickly nods and exits the room.
"Checking something. Will just be a moment." The minutes that the Companions and clerics spend together in silence feels like an eternity. Until the guard returns panting. Once again rushing to the cleric side, they again talk in hushed tones.
"We did not find this Ahriman but we did find something interesting. Kahina will share it with you after."
After the clerics have asked all the questions they needed to, they look across at the Companions. "You have spoken truthfully and boldly. Everything you have told us has checkout as fact. That you were here innocently, and that you were acosted, has caused us great shame. More shame than we can bare. Please, follow me."
The cleric pushes back from his/her chair and moves around the table to the Companion. Kissing him on both cheeks, the cleric begins to pray over them. "By the Dawnflower, forgive us that we did not protect these brave souls, and please heal them from the harm caused to them while under our protections. Oh sweet Sarenrae, help lighten the burden of our debt and let these brave men forgive us for failing them."
The clerics lead the Companions one by one to a waiting room upstairs. This room is 30 by 20, littered with pillowed cushions, chilled beverages, and a side table filled with fruits and vegetables. Bright mosaics and intricately woven tapestries line the walls, while colored-cut glass windows allow the waning sunlight to pour into the room.
First Malgrim enters, followed by Arimar, and the lastly by Benaiah. Waiting minutes become unbearable while they look for Keoki. Before they can open the door to inquire about their new friend, Kahina walks in with a forlorn expression on her face.
"Friends, I have some terrible news to share. Your friend Keoki, something is wrong. We cannot seem to staunch his bleeding by magical or mundane means. He is quickly fading. I ... I ... everyone has a time. I believe this is his time. To short." Tears stream down her face. "Come. I shall take you to him."
Walking to the rear of the temple through more doors, past heavily armed guards, the Companions come to a golden door representing the rising sun. Once more fumbling on her belt, Kahina produces a unique key. She places the key in the keyhole and whispers a prayer to Sarenrae.
They enter a beautiful bedroom. A spacious four-poster bed, carved wardrobe, lush carpets, and high windows complete this beautiful bedroom. Attended by a host of clerics, Keoki lays unmoving on the bed. Ashen faced, his breath comes in shallow gasps.
"I am .... sorry. I wish ... I prayed ... nothing. I can do nothing." she ends tearfully.
"That is all...?" Arimar is dumbfounded. He had not answered the questions to his satisfaction! The priests of Pharasma certainly would not have let go the issue of the undead suddenly stopping what they were commanded to do. At least, not without many more piercing questions and... Arimar still could not taste after he saw where that line of inquiry led in the past. It seems these Sarenites are not cut from the same cloth. I am not sure whether to admire their forgiving nature, or scorn it. A further, unbidden thought occurs to Arimar. No, I would not scorn it - the High Priest of our order would scorn it, and would hate me for my softness.
"Gods, Keoki, what is going on?" Arimar asks, baffled, "Don't you know these are the clerics of Sarenrae? They heal. Now, figure it out and let them restore you."
Unsure of what else to do, Arimar rises and turns to Kahina, "Cast a more powerful spell. We can pay." He says it with confidence that it would suddenly happen, confidence borne of desperation. Yes, money was the only thing holding them back. Money would convince them to save his new companion.
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Benaiah cocks an eyebrow at the reaction of his interrogator, clearly expecting more pushback. The cocked eyebrow slowly turns raised eyebrows of surprise. He doesn't think to question anyone, partially assuming they must have had some sort of divine magic to determine his truthfullness.
Feeling a bit more jovial now that the ordeal seems to be over, and his wounds have healed, he follows the group as they file out. He smiles at the plush pillows and good refreshments, again in stark contrast of what was waiting for him in the interrogation room. He lounges and takes a leisurely bite of the bread and looks around, waiting patiently for Keoki.
"What the hell?" He blurts out, concern etched on his face as they come to face the fallen warrior.
What wound could that wench have caused to make this happen? he wonders, looking at the magically stitched area where the woman's blade had entered his body. And what devilry did I just avoid?
"You must be mistaken. He is fine I am sure!" the big man tries to chuckle to hide his discomfort at what is before him. "Keoki! Hey, you in there? Wake up! Quit fooling around here. You aren't in another of your trances are you?" Anxiousness begins to creep into Benaiah's voice.
"Where is his bag?" he asks with some urgency, looking around. Locating it, he opens it up, dumping the entire contents onto the floor in a rush that betrays his jovial and faltering facade. "It's in here somewhere..." he says, frantically looking for the familiar wrapped parcels. Finally finding one, he grabs it and tears the delicate cloth wrappings off of the chunk and holds it up against the tribal man's lips.
"Here you go, this is what you need right? I know I saw you do this part of the seance, Just a bit of this and you will be fine right? Right? RIGHT!?" Benaiah's hands tremble ever so slightly as he holds the desiccated meat up to Keoki's mouth.
Malgrim merely nods and raises his hood when he is released from questioning. Being interogated by worshipers of a Good god clearly was less dire than the nightmare he had envisioned when he first came to the surface. I suppose that likely has much to due with present circumstances, he considers.
Malgrim takes the word of Keoki's failing health with stony silence in contrast to his companions' frantic efforts, then clears his throat. "Perhaps... perhaps if these experts in the art of healing are unable to save him, Keoki's spirit is unwilling to return to his body." He looks to the others. "I am no expert in the theology of it, but he clearly had a different culture regarding the body and soul. Maybe his soul has already moved on to advise others?"
A thought dawns on him and fills him with more dread than even the word that his companion was dying. He moves to the Sarenite cleric and whispers, "If it comes to it, may we have his body? I do not believe his soul would find rest buried in your temple; we should make the arrangements ourselves."
Bizarrely, Arimar does not join in on making arrangements for the body. "No, Malgrim!" he practically yells, "We will not be dealing with Keoki's body. He'll be walking out of here. His soul cannot return because it never departed. I know what it means to be dead, and he never was!
"Keoki, you thick-headed fool, stop bleeding and come to!" It occurs to Arimar that perhaps his body is magically resistant, "Fetch some bandages!" he yells to the nearest acolyte before diving forwards to staunch the flow of blood with his bare hands.
The Aasimar seems to have forgotten that Kahina already tried and failed.
Kahina turns to Arimar, "No it is not money. I assure you we have used all the resources we have available, but his wounds won't staunch. We don't know why." She turns to Benaiah and points. One of the scratches is showing pink through the gauze. "Something must have been on her blade. We are examining it now, but I fear it's secret is lost with the swordswoman. It appears that she has committed the ultimate sin, and has hanged herself. How we can be so negligent today? .... I have no words."
Turning to Malgrim, "Funerary rites? Not buried here? Yes you are right. It seems that we are headed that way. But there is ... I mean ... well." Clearly at odds with herself, Kahina stutters and stammers a bit. "Please. There is nothing more we can really do here. My clerics shall ease your friend to the gates of Pharasma. If you will join me in my sitting room?"
Ushering the companions out of the bedroom and into a richly furnished sitting room, Kahina makes sure that all are comfortable.
"Again, your friend. There really are no words. I feel like I owe you all a bit of an explanation. You see Magnimar, as you well know, is called the City of Monuments. The Irespan, one of ancient Thassilon's most prominent ruins is the most well know here. Yet some know it also as the Giant's Bridge. This ruined causeway juts out from the Seacleft nearly 400 feet, with its ruined pilings extending farther out to sea, hardly unmistakable.
"But the origins of this temple are not so prominent, but more more important. You see before Magnimar proper was founded, in the shadow of the great upheavals caused by the death of Aroden, hundreds of pilgrims traveled west helmed by four visionary adventurers led by the paladin Alcaydian Indros and known collectively as the Wardens of the Eye. Legend holds that they saw Seacleft they knew they were home.
"In reality, a secret known only to the church of Sarenrae, the paladins found a pool, or mikveh. This pool, known to the locals as the Fountain of Bethesda, was a rectangular pool with two basins separated by a wall—thus a five-sided pool—and each side had a portico. Here a great number of disabled people used to lie—the blind, the lame, the paralyzed. You see when the waters were stirred, then the first who stepped in was made whole of whatsoever disease he or she had. None knew who stirred the waters, but we know it was Sarenrae.
"The followers dedicated the land to Sarenrae. And our temple was built around it. Though the others gave lip service to Desna and the empyreal lords, Arshea, Ragathiel, and Sinashakti, it was Sarenrae who called this bit of land her own.
"Shortly thereafter the temple was concentrated, yet the land around the pool remained ... well normal. For years the locals venerated our order. Many came to be healed and many were.
"Sometime in our past the pool just stopped working. And we know not why. My predecessors felt it prudent to build shacks there to aid those who are passing through, in hopes that they would inquire of Sarenrae and one day give homage to the Dawnflower.
"That is why those women were able to attack you unawares, and that is why that robed woman was able to bring in her undead minions. It is a weak spot that I hope to rectify.
"So why am I telling you this?" she pauses in her exposition. "Because I believe that the pool is the only hope we have of saving Keoki. He shall pass shortly, and we can hold him in a stasis so to speak. Not dead. Not alive. Not undead. And if somehow, someway, you can figure out how to get the fountain working again, I believe that you can save the life of not only Keoki, but hundreds, thousands, hundred thousands. Only Sarenrae knows. Think on it."
"Before you depart though, let me fill in some missing details. We did not find this Ahriman you spoke of. But we did find the remnants of spell on the door to the shack. It is a spell illusionists use often called Programmed Image. You were not talking with a person, but rather an illusion. "And the robed woman you saw. Yes, she escaped. They had been using that nearby shack as a makeshift headquarters. She must have had a teleport device in there and our clerics weren't fast enough." "The swordswoman, we have all her possessions. Nothing we found was of value except this." She plops down a huge bag of gold. "10,000 gp. She must have been their hired muscle. Quite the price for you all. Since this blood money was spent to kill you, it is yours. The Church just asks for a tithe for the poor. If you wish."
"And as a token of our shame, and to try and repay a portion of our debt, we have these." On a table are four medallions with a sunflower head carved into it. "Show this to any follower of Sarenrae and they shall preform any healing service you require, free of charge. And once per day, when you utter By the Dawnflower light will shine forth as the Daylight spell.
"Much has happened today, and I am sure that you all have much to talk about. Please, as you came in peace, go in peace. May Sarenrae light the darkness within you." She kisses each of you on both cheeks before escorting you to the doors of the temple.
Arimar considers how much gold the life of Keoki was worth, weighed against the value of the complaints of the poor. He resolves to discuss it in private at a later date. That money will leave the temple, and a portion will come back. How much, well... that was up to everyone.
"Tell me, this mikveh you speak of," he asks before they leave the room, "We know of someone who is infected by a serious cough that speaks of a deeper affliction beneath. She has traveled far and wide and has all the resources wealth and a horde of contacts can bring, but is unable to rid herself of it. Whether she has come to the Church of Sarenrae or not, I do not know, but I would be surprised if she has not asked at least a dozen churches for help. If you feel confident this pool can cure Keoki... might it be able to cure her? You did say it it cured those who lay in the waters of whatever they had, yes?
"Assuming this is true, and we help you to restore the waters... would you secure an early place in the line for our other friend as well as Keoki?" he asks before she can answer, "This would be an important condition of our acceptance of this mission."
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"Fast freinds,"Keoki utters in his normal manner of speech, his own voice having returned. The spirit that had only a short time ago seeped into every corner of his being, even subtly changing his features and mannerisms, now showed no sign of holding any sway over the tribesman.
"This one be feeling like he soon take the long... dark nap," he speaks slowly, the words beginning to fall out of him half pronounced and broken. "You all be fast friends of this one. Great thanks on each of you..."
Reaching up with one arm, the tattoed man can barely move the limb, but manages to signal the towering form of Benaiah. "Big man with many scars, this one be having request of you," he begins, but pauses briefly to suppress a fit of coughing, and then winces in pain at the effort. "One day... you please be going to Enya. To Keoki own home island. This one ask you am find Akikonu, great king of Fifty Father's Throne. You, Big Man with Many Scars, you find king of Enya and you beat him in fight. Tell him, Keoki be sending you." For a moment the tribesman looks off, his eyes glancing away from contact with the others, and for a moment it seems as though the tribesman is holding back tears, and perhaps does fear the long, dark nap ahead of him.
"This one be hearing Akikonu calling. Be hearing father. He calling this one home... on a journey that never again happen," there is now a glistening in corners of tattooed man's eyes just now. "This one am letting Akikonu down. This one never return upon Enya. Never being king..."
"You, Big Man with Many Scars, you am doing this for Keoki. You were to be advisor... but Keoki be taking long, dark nap... You go and being king for Keoki."
The tribesman now lays motionless for a few moments, and breathes raggedly, seeming to struggle at the simple task of drawing breath. "Friend, Arimar," he now begins, his voice now fainter than it had been moments before. "Your time be coming. Wait. Being patient. You be the one to lead big man with many scars," the tattooed man looks deeply at Arimar now, and their eyes are locked. It is clear to the aasimar that Keoki means- When the time comes for big man with many scars to die, you should be the one to raise him and control him.
"You stronger than Keoki... you be having more magic..." the tribesman speaks softly, and his tone is filled with honesty and kindness toward the necromancer. "You earn... be deserving... control over big man with many scars..."
"Use him if needing be for you to sit on Fifty Father's Throne..." a small smile creeps across the tribesman's lips as he looks upon the necromancer.
Now, at last, the tribesman turns to face Malgrim. "Friend, Malgrim," he says, still maintaining the smile. "You be having biggest request. Most important request to this one..."
"This one be asking you to honor me," he states calmly. "Keoki be moving toward them long, dark nap. Me be gone soon. From world. From life. But This one be asking you am honor me when me am gone."
"You know what Keoki be asking of you," his voice is now deadly serious. "You may be then carrying some spot of this one with you always."
At this, the last bit of strength the tattooed man struggled to keep at last gives out, and he falls fast asleep. His skin is pale and looks on the verge of death as others shuffle from the room.
"Bless you Arimar." begins Kahina. "Legend has it that once per day, and only once per day, an angel of Sarenrae stirred the waters. The first to enter the waters were cured of their aliments.
"Provided you can get the fountain working and provided the fountain works as the legends say than we of the Temple of Sarenrae would devote ourselves to caring for the sick and infirm that come to heal themselves.
"We cannot in good conscious play deity and decide who gets to go in, but we will aid all those who wish it.
"To to indirectly answer your question, she, like all others, will have every opportunity to bathe in the waters of the fountain. But for us to reserve a spot ... this is just not something that we can do. For her. Or anyone be they Queen Abrogail or pauper from the streets. All are equal here." she ends with a deep sigh of resignation.
"I know how haughty that sounds, the life of all are equal, and I know you might think why not make an exception for this one life, and the fountain would go on to save hundreds, thousands of lives.. Yet, I must hold true to who I am, who we are. Peace. I pray you understand that."
"One use a day?!" Arimar balks, "I'm assuming, though, that there'll be some kind of entrance criteria? Like whatever ailment it is must be incurable by other means? After all, such a divine blessing shouldn't be wasted on those who can be healed by virtue of a simple spell, yes?"
Arimar shakes his head at all of the information they now have. "Well friends, shall we find a quiet booth in a tavern somewhere and discuss our options? It seems like high time we made a decision on where to go next."
"Arimar, we are the church of Sarenrae." she begins in a slightly condescending tone, "All who are weary will find rest, all who are trouble shall find peace, all who are injured shall be healed." she intones the platitudes. "Yet we are a poor church. Often dependent on the generosity of others ..." she leaves the comment hanging as she eyes the bulging pouch hanging from Arimar's belt.
"You'll get a donation once we've spoken about how much to give," the necromancer assures Kahina.
"I'll meet you outside shortly," Arimar tells his companions, "Got something I need to do first." He looks down at his crotch and crosses his legs slightly. It had been a long time since any of them had visited a restroom.
Just shy of the johns, Arimar turns into a small private shrine and draws the curtain behind him. A cross-like symbol depicting an open-armed angel stands at the back of the altar. Arimar strokes it, almost reverently. "My mistress would be most disgusted to see me in here," he tells the holy symbol of Sarenrae, "But she cannot be overly proud of me anyway. I am shockingly thin and have little appetite for food. F*@@ing is the only thing she promotes that I have ever found any joy in, and even now it is more going through the religious motions than true enjoyment. Even my orgies are small, humble affairs." Arimar laughs aloud at this last remark.
"Look at me, here, telling Sarenrae about my obscene sex life," he chuckles, "You see, I find it as bizarre as you probably do. I have always painted the other faiths with a similar brush to that which I have painted the Church of Pharasma. My experience here has been most... enlightening.
"One of your disciples, Kahina, leads me to believe that they would have taken me in and shielded me from those filthy, murderous Pharasmans. And they wouldn't have demanded my slavish obedience in return. She didn't even question me too hard about the undead when it became apparent that I was innocent of one crime, but likely guilty of another," Arimar sighs, stroking the symbol again, "And yet where were you when I was a boy, having his mouth and throat burned out for what I said? Where was anyone but the priests of Urgathoa? It is all I have known... and yet, they cast me out.
"Why do I still follow the Pallid Princess?" He finally gives voice to the question that has been building up within him for years now, "Why do I follow her when her followers reject me?" The absurdity of the situation hits him at this point and he begins to laugh uncontrollably. When he finally regains control, he pushes aside the curtain and rejoins his friend.
I hope no-one heard that...
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As the companions dither about, getting ready to leave and discuss their options in front of them, Benaiah wanders, lost in thought. Visions of an underground empire, an information network spanning throughout the city and into others dance throughout his head. Those visions seem to constantly morph, first changing from Benaiah whispering to an informant in a dark alley, to a shadowy figure, literally made of shadow as they are suddenly searching for some tome of information instead of the newest noble lord's closet skeletons.
Heh. Skeletons in their closets. Such a funny euphemism. With Arimar, it could quite literally be skeletons in their closets. Placed there by... huh... Wait a minute. That's not a bad idea... Not placing literal skeletons in someone's closet. Well, maybe in some cases. But helping to create the secrets that they want to keep hidden. It's like creating your own market for information trade and blackmail...
As he wanders he hears some mumbling from a curtained off room. The voice sounds famliar, so he stops to listen. As the monologue continues, he realizes who it is. An entire hellknight contingent couldn't have knocked him over more effectively than the shock of what he heard. As soon as Arimar begins to laugh, Benaiah scurries away, not wanting to create an awkward situation where the aasimar might know what he overheard.
Arimar? Never saw anything like that coming... What possibly could have happened to make him question his faith, his life and direction like that? Why would anyone bother to question the things that led to where they are today... I wonder...
I wonder what might have been different for me, had... No. It was all out of my control.
Shaking the deep thoughts from his brain, he flexes his shoulders as if to slough off the soul piercing questions.
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"Well boys?" Benaiah says when Malgrim and Arimar have rejoined him in a space where they can converse freely without intrusion.
"We've lost Caerador, and now Keoki, and it feels like we haven't even truly gotten started." Benaiah looks each of them in the eyes. "Keoki was a bit creepy, but something about the guy... Something clicked. He felt like one of us. Each of us a twisted product of our history, and forces around us beyond our control. I'm not so sure about becoming the ruler of Enya and a bunch of cannibals, but I was a bit surprised when I thought that a tropical trip might be worth it, sometime in this life."
Shuddering again, Benaiah recalls how both Keoki and Arimar made plain their intentions for his... skills... beyond his willing participation on this side of death's gate. Oddly, the thought doesn't bother him terribly. Perhaps it is because he respected both of them, and they seemingly saw more value in his continued life than in his service in death, or whatever was beyond this mortal coil.
Suddenly reminded of the conversation with Ahrimar, Benaiah coils back and unleashes a sucker-punch on the frail aasimar's shoulder. He relaxes his fist as it makes contact, making the blow more of a forceful push than a punch.
No sense in accidentally breaking any bones.
"Raise me as some undead freak? Over my dead body." he deadpans.
"Baaahahahahahah!" Benaiah doubles over in laughter. "Second time today I got to tell that joke. Just as funny too." he says, catching his breath from his bout of laughter. In a flash, he wipes the mirth from his face to paint a stern look, "Seriously though, don't go talking about that s$&%. Keep it a secret and wait till I'm dead. And if you try to speed up that process I'll break your neck." Benaiah holds the stern face for a second, then suddenly smiles and winks.
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"Honestly though, stop letting me waste our time. That Mouth guy is going to be back at some point and ask us what our decision is. I can't say his offer isn't intriguing for several reasons. To me, Lanvi's offer feels like the endgame. Who wouldn't want a seat of power in this city? In my head though, wherever we end up, it just feels like this temple is the start, know what I mean?" Benaiah asks the question, staring at Arimar. He realizes that perhaps he is staring a bit to long, and shifts his gaze to Malgrim, hoping that his vague question doesn't come across as pointed. Hoping that Arimar doesn't suspect what he heard earlier.
"I'm thinking we should start with helping these Sarenites figure out what has happened to their Mikveh. In my way of looking at things, that is the gateway to whatever we want to do next, be it working with Lanvi, being the Collector's search dogs, or something else entirely. What say the two of you?"
As the Companions depart from the Temple of Sarenrae, they notice how far the sun has dipped towards the horizon. Realizing that they are long overdue to explore the more exciting sides of Magnimar, they make their way down to the Capital District and the fabled Street of Taverns.
As with the Summit's other districts, the majority of the Capital District's buildings are made of stone, and as the city's seat of government, it's also among the city's safest areas. Not only are all streets and most alleys kept lit after dark with well maintained lanterns, but the city watch foots additional patrols here to ensure that Magnimar's bureaucratic heart remains healthy. In addition, the buildings of the Capital District are, on average, the oldest and most artistically decorated of all those in the city-strolls down many of this district's major streets are at times akin to walks though museums of art.
Seemingly choosing one at random, they pick Pinches and Palming. A wooden sings flaps in the breeze, paint peeling sightly at the corners, depicting a bare-chested climber ascending a rocky slope.
Pushing open the door, they instantly regret their choice as the vibe is tense and surly. The barkeep has a sour expression, and is wiping the glass he holds so forcefully that it is a wonder it doesn't shatter. A scattering of patrons all look to their cups, not even glancing at the newcomers.
Except for a solitary table. Seated at the table is an older man, more grey than black hair, his sizable belly pushed up to the rim of the table, and talking so loudly that all can hear. He has a wide grin, and continues to speak to his right and left, pausing for the recipient of his attention to nod or quickly agree, before he moves his conversation ahead again. Though age and influence has made him less physically fit, even seated the Companions know that he would stand above all save Benaiah, and perhaps a touch wider. "And the Hellknight says, Why pain of course!" before erupting into laughter. His belly flops up and down bouncing the heavy golden chain ending in the five-pointed star of Asmodeaus' holy symbol as he guffaws and slaps the back of the person next to him. The others seated around the table all politely laugh at the seemingly hilarious joke, though it is obvious none find it even remotely funny.
Squinting as the early evening sun sprays into the room from the open door, he spies the Companions and roars a greeting across the bar. "Ah welcome. You lads picked a fine establishment to wet your palates. Orvan here pours a cold ale, and his ass is so tight if you jam a lump of coal up there, he'll s##! you a diamond within the hour." The scene is repeated as the others around the table offer their paltry laughter as he snorts in merriment, while Orvan merely rolls his eyes clearly accustomed to abuse from this one. "You." he says to the patrons at his table. "Get out of those seats and let my new friends in." he utters in a tone that brooks no argument. The patrons cannot scramble from their seats fast enough. "First rounds one me!" he calls through slightly slurred lips and pushing a chair out with his beefy leg.
"Heh," Arimar forces a laugh, rubbing his sore shoulder, "Keoki finally got it right: you'd definitely make a better zombie than advisor. Plenty of meat on your bones, not so much in between your ears." Arimar dodges out of the way of the second punch.
"Honestly, though, it's Malgrim I'm looking forward to raising," Arimar grins at the hobgoblin, "I'm thinking some kind of hobgoblin skeleton... leaving his face a skull is the only way I can think of to get a smile on his face." Arimar makes ready to run.
Arimar rolls his eyes as the loutish Chelaxian makes yet another run at the johns. For such a fat man, he had a tiny bladder. Then again... Arimar eyes the fast array of empty pitchers in front of where the man sat, Perhaps it is larger than any of ours, but has to do five times the work.
"If you asked me yesterday," Arimar muses, "I would have told you and the Sarenites to go fuc... ahem. Well, you already know how I usually respond to job offers. Anyway, I wouldn't have given it a second thought, but with 'The Way' after my skills and with Keoki on death's door, I have a different mind. I would like nothing more than to deny Pharasma this latest soul for her foul f~~$ing harvest.
"The potential for us getting something over on Lanvi is not lost, either," Arimar nods to Beniah, the man was finally catching on to the way Arimar's mind worked, "If we break the hold the Collector has over her, she will make a much more reliable business partner. I think, whatever we do, we should come back to this idea of Lanvi's. I feel certain that if we offer her this as a way to cure her cough, she'll be patient enough to let us do this before signing on as her partners.
"What do you think? Arimar looks around at the others.
Malgrim raises a brow when Arimar mentions reanimating his corpse. "While I can appreciate my body being further service to our path. I humbly request that it be interred into the earth, should the worst occur. Otherwise I will do my best to haunt you." Despite the obvious joke, Malgrim seems oddly serious.
"As for which path we should choose, each has appeals. I can appreciate your apprehension towards the Sarenites, however, the appeal of the Fountain is significant."
The others... I can trust them as far as I can throw them, Lavni in particular.
"So what brings you boys to Pinches and Palming? Dozen of better taverns on this block alone." he says in a slurred tone. Orvan stare shoots daggers at the braggart. "Wait a f~#&ing minute. You. You're Belthashalazar's whelp. Right?" he points a swollen finger at Benaiah. "I've seen you at his parties. When he'd invite me that is. Saw you staring at the serving girls. Bet you beat your hand bloody that night touching yourself.
"You 'member me? Darean Haist. Well f#+!ing Paralictor Darean Haist now. Queen Domina of Korvosa practically begged me to come to this armpit of a city which obviously is in sore need of some order. Could use a knowledgeable hand or two if you want to ditch this rabble. No offense" he tells Arimar and Malgrim not even looking at them.
"Well, Darean... well... oh, dear, it's barely been three hours since I've last said this... and I was going to stop, but now it seems so appropriate. What do you think? Should I?" Arimar looks to his fellow companions seeking support. Shrugging, Arimar turns his chair to face the big Chelaxian and clears his throat. Too late, they realize what he's going to say.
"Go f+~% yourself."
The companions, having made their way into a tavern, seemingly at random, begin their discourse with (the some might say obnoxiously loud) Darean Haist. As the portly man, unwieldy swinging his well endowed belly, creates a general ruckus and uproar, so pleased to have unthinking and mindless followers laughing at his jokes, he is unable to notice a small halfling slip into the establishment. After a short walk, dodging between the bustling patrons, the woman takes a seat at a recently vacated table.
As the female halfling slides onto the chair, dropping a backpack to the floor that seems overly-packed and on the verge of splitting seams with all manor of gear stuffed inside, her brown flowing hair jounces with a playful spring. Looking around the room, her large, luminous brown eyes catch the torchlight filling the room and sparkle brilliantly. When she makes eye contact with any random patron or worker, she grins, parting her lips with a knowing smile, as her eyes even seem to grow and widen, pulling in the glances of those surrounding randoms as if she were creating a gravity of her own.
Signaling to a passing barmaid, the halfling leans in almost romantically close, the motion even carrying a slight air of seductive intent, to the young woman's ear. It is unclear what words pass between the female hafling and the barmaid, but at once the young worker bustles off to speak with Orvan at the bartop. Moments later the barmaid returns to the halfling, and deposits a glass of chelish red before her. Curiously, the barmaid also places a second glass of wine before one empty seat at the table, and a stein of ale along with a simple glass of water before a second empty place-setting.
As the time passes, the halfling woman sips at her wine, nodding politely and smiling at those who happen to make eye contact with her. However, when Malgrim and Arimar are found to look her way, and their eyes meet even for a moment, she glances down to the lonely drinks sitting unaccompanied across the table from herself, then blushes with another knowing smile.
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Benaiah takes a sharp breath in at the sight of the portly man and the hair on the back of his neck stands up. "Dammit. Shoulda picked a different dive..." he mumbles to the others as they take in the sight of the abrasive man.
The group walks over to take his invitation, and Benaiah's shoulders are tense. He looks to the shadows and corners of the room, expecting an inquisition to be hiding around the corner.
"Paralictor." Benaiah takes in a deep breath, unable at the moment to continue his thoughts. Visions of the man verbally berating every living thing that he deemed beneath him clouded his thoughts. More than once he had been the target of his viscous tirades. Though Benaiah was the son of a Hellknight, Haist never treated him better than a serving wench.
Honestly, not much different than his father, though he knew that his father hated the man. Everyone did really. The rumor was that he must have some horrible secrets on the Infernal Majestrix, Queen Abrogail II. Like how she probably has a brood of small, cuddly animals and gives money to the poor. Otherwise he would have been run out of the noble circles years ago.
Arimar finally breaks the ice though, forcing a belly laugh from the large man, who was only a boy the last time he saw this deviant. "Ha! That is Arimar, he has a way with words." Benaiah says, sliding into a chair, and slowly sliding into some confidence he never had as a boy back in the motherland. "I would say it's nice to see you, but we aren't at one of my father's precocious parties now, are we? I've no doubt the Queen begged you to come here to get your foul stench out of her halls, am I right?" Benaiah's mouth curls into a snarky grin.
Ok, better be careful. He could be a good source of info. Plus, I can't have him sending reports back that I am alive, or we may have some of those damn Asmodeans looking to make good on my death sentence...
"Hahah! You should see the look on your face Paralictor. Congrats on your title by the way. It's about time someone saw your worth." he says, trying to choke back the bile at saying those words. "Seriously, learn how to take a joke old man. Also seriously, the day you respect a halfling as an equal is the day I consider working for you. Like he said, Go f*$& yourself. So what's new?"
Benaiah tries his best to keep the hostility out of his words. He cracks a forced smile, and waits to see if he was successful.
"Well, you're a long way from Korvosa, Para-Licker," Arimar notes, "And from the smell of you, you came via the Mushfen route. Congratulations, anyway, on finding a tavern of people to lick your boot-heel so far away from the demon-f&#!ers who respect your order. Now, if you'll excuse me, it seems a pretty halfling has bought two of our number a drink. Coming, Malgrim?" Arimar walks straight past the man, ignoring anything he might say.
The skinny, robed man walks slowly and with dignity away from the blow-hard and over to this intriguing woman. "So, usually it is I who buys the drink for a woman. Thank you, though. This is quite the exchange of positions and a point for gender equality. I must warn you, though, if you are seeking to even the score on drinks purchased for anonymous strangers of the opposite sex - I have racked up quite the tab. Also, if it's a threesome your after, it's been a long while since I've made it with one of the little folk... and the last time I did, she couldn't walk straight for a week, literally." Arimar winks, leaving the halfling unsure of whether he's being serious or not.
Darean's chubby smile fades as the Companions hurl a string of insults at him, before Benaiah disarms him with a veiled question.
"F%$! me? F+@& you! Halfling? You mean slip son. Been out of Cheliax too long and you forget where you come from. Could use a proper servant though..."
As Arimar gets up, Darean begins to protest. "Hey were the f#~$ you going skinny? We're having a great time here. Sit your ass back down and have 'nother." Darean turns to see where he is going. "Oh, found a slip did you. Hey slip, why don't cha come sit on my lap. My prick is about as big as you, think you can take it?" Darean's word come more slurred as he downs another drink. "And Orvan, this cup stays empty by the time I go to the damien to take a piss, I am going to have a look see through your books." He gets up on unsteady feet and stumbles towards the bathroom.
"... I go to the damien to take a piss..."
"Would it be untoward if we simply killed the man?" Arimar asks Benaiah earnestly from the other side of the room, "I'm sure none would protest.
"Anyway, back to you my dear," Arimar turns to the halfling, "What's your name, and to what do I owe the drink?"
"Oh, found a slip did you. Hey slip, why don't cha come sit on my lap. My prick is about as big as you, think you can take it?"
To the second lewd comment she has received in as many minutes, the halfling smiles politely, even slightly blushing in a response of practiced and calculated embarrassment to Darean then looks to the new arrival at her table. "I think I'd be fine... And I'll also have to pass," the woman says in reply Darean's comment, but speaks the response to Armiar, and only loud enough her own table to hear. "In my experience, those who are so insistent on the size of their pricks almost never are overcompensating with exaggeration." Her words are laced thickly with sarcasm as she expertly avoids acknowledging Arimar's previous comment.
"I was born in cheliax, actually," she begins now. "So I know firsthand of his people's hospitality toward we mere slips." It is clear the stranger is in fact referring to the slavery of her people.
By this time the obnoxious Darean has retreated for a few moments to the bathroom, and the stranger takes his leave to speak further to the table. "It's a pleasure to meet you in person at last, Arimar. I feel slightly ashamed it has taken us this long to meet. In a way, I feel like I know you already... My name is Gwendolyn Mehra..." she says politely, introducing herself and casting a smile at the aasimar.
"For this, like some of the most pleasurable activities in life that you and the Paralictor speak of, I was hoping we could enjoy a drink beforehand to... loosen our tongues... and help us to get to know each other," she says, clearly implying more than her mere words. "And also like such life affirming activities, I hoped we could take our time and truly savor the moment. Maybe even enjoying a bit of privacy."
She stares at Arimar for a few moments without speaking, gazing into his eyes and trying in vain to get a read on the aasimar. "I don't mean to be yet another cog in some vast machine vying for you and your friend's attentions. Nor do I wish to provide only
mere hints and half-truths... I wish to speak to you about your employer... and point of fact, more specifically... her daughter... For there are things I think you should know, especially if you wish to approach a relationship with Mistress Lanvi on a more equal footing.
"But as I'm sure you can see," she begins to end her droning, long winded explanation to the table. "Such conversations are perhaps not advised to occurs under the nose of an insulted and short tempered Paralictor."
"Would it be untoward if we simply killed the man?" Arimar asks Benaiah earnestly from the other side of the room, "I'm sure none would protest.
"Wise words, Gwendolyn," the necromancer nods, picking up his drink and holding it aloft for a toast, "A pleasure to meet you. My name is Arimar, and the silent one over here is Malgrim." Their glasses collide in a clunk that only cheap glassware coming together can produce.
"Information is ammunition where Lanvi is concerned," Arimar nods appreciatively at Gwendolyn's offer, "And she is very tight with it when it comes to things that could threaten our lives. First though, tell me how it is that you know we are in a position to consider a further employment relationship with her? Then we might find somewhere more private, perhaps another bar, once Benaiah has finished catching up, of course."
Arimar thinks for a moment, "Actually, barkeep, do you have a private booth or room where we could go? I don't think our presence in the taproom is going to be good for the Para-Licker or your establishment."
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"Would it be untoward if we simply killed the man?" Arimar asks Benaiah earnestly from the other side of the room, "I'm sure none would protest.
Benaiah raises an eyebrow at Arimar's tongue in cheek comment. He raises a second eyebrow as he considers that the man's scarred tongue might not have been planted 'in-cheek' with that comment. He leans back in his chair, the wooden frame tipped back on two legs while his right foot uses the underside of the table to keep himself from falling over backwards. Lucky for him, these chairs are made of more solid construction than the paltry ones used in the Temple to Sarenrea.
Leaned back, he cranes his neck and speaks low, so only Arimar, Malgrim, and those around him can hear, including the intriguing halfling. [b]"Paralictor Haist is like a blood-sucking parasite, both inside an outside of his organization. Nobody likes him, however he is still among the power elite, both in the order and in the heirarchy of Cheliax. Killing him would be a bad idea." Benaiah pauses for a moment, then brings his voice even lower, "At least until the power we weild becomes greater than his, and his death serves our business interests, and the interests of our allies." He quickly coughs and clears his throat, as if to dismiss the thought and implication to the recesses of his mind, and the dark, forgotten corners of any plans they might be developing.
The minutes drag on as the Paralictor remains in the restroom, so Benaiah decides to offer one more bit of education. "The Hellknights are an evil, conniving, heartless organization, but even they follow strict order and protocol. Haist takes the selfishness that is at the core of all evil to a new level. He is a horrid leader, and abrasive is underselling his personality. The problem is, as far as anyone can tell, he dots every I and crosses every T. On paper, he is the perfect Hellknight, textbook in everyway. Since he seems to continually perform without a single blemish on his record, and no one can stand being around him for longer than necessary, he has rocketed up the ranks of the Order. In other words, his commanders continually promote him to get him the hell out of their life."
Hearing the boistrous man beginning to exit the washroom, Benaiah allows the chair to drop back to all four legs, and paints a forced smile on his face, raising his mug as the man returns. Somewhere in the small-talk, Benaiah manages to scribble a note and pass it to Malgrim.
Malgrim sees no reason to add to a potential display by advertising his heritage to a busy taproom with an obviously inebriated and volatile person of power. He continues to sit quietly, doing his best to remain out of the center of attention from the conversation while the paralicter is present.
He takes the passed letter, and gives a small nod. Speaking for the first time since the visitors intruded upon the "wake", Malgrim quietly says, "Information would be most appreciated... once we are away from our present annoyance."
"...First though, tell me how it is that you know we are in a position to consider a further employment relationship with her?..."
Gwendolyn quickly looks around the room to see if anyone else is listening in on their conversation, and as she does so, hears the footfalls of Paralictor Halst stomping around like a clydesdale on his way returning from the bathroom. Leaning in close to Arimar and Malgrim, she speaks in a hurried whisper, "The quickest answer is that I was doing my best to keep tabs on you, after learning of Mistress Lanv's arrival in the city and a group of four adventurers in tow." It is then that she looks between Arimar, Malgrim, and Benaiah, pauses for a moment, then rescans all three. "But it appears my information is out of date, as one of your number appears to be missing. But also, I didn't realize you were 'in a position to consider further employment' with Mistress Lanvi... which I take your words to mean you are not currently in her employ, as I had incorrectly thought the case to be."
As the outline of Paralictor Halst takes form on the edge of the room, his footfalls drawing ever closer with imposing intent, the halfling knows there is little time left to finish their conversation.
"Be thing as they are, I still think you could leverage the information I have to approach negotiations with your former employer to be on a more equal footing," she adds, again rushing her words in a slurred whisper. "And though I may have inquired about you and your friends, maybe even followed and spyed... it's really not as bad as it sounds."
With that the halfling beams a grinning and mischievous smile at the aasimar.
Darean comes back from revealing himself. Urine streaks one of his pant legs while he seems to have laced his breeches incorrectly and a bit of his manhood is exposed.
"Damn. Drink is strong tonight! Wife give yah an early gift Orv? How do you get these to taste so apple-ish? So wait ... why are you all talking to the slip again? Come on back and lets drink those finish." the drunken Paralictor protests.
"Got a big job tomorrow Belthashalazar." he tells Malgrim. "You can bring that sissy of a son if you want. Or leave 'em home to peek at the servants' bath house. Why do our kids always disappoint us?"
"Them Nirodins. True Cheliaxians. Honored to help them out. See you then." and he falls drunkenly off his chair and onto the floor. "Whooaaa! Man overboard, man overboard."
Orvan shakes his head in frustration. He moves over to help the Paralictor back into his chair and nods to one of his workers by the door. The man turns and heads back into the street.
Orvan turns to the companions. "He does this once every year. And always on this day. Never seen him touch a drop to his lips otherwise. And none of the other barkeeps seen him drink either. Why here, why now? No idea. But best you all head out the back before his cronies show up."
"Best suggestion I've heard all day, Orvan," Arimar notes with satisfaction, before turning to his new halfling acquaintance, "Let's chat on the way, Gwendolyn. I'm not to bothered about your spying. Maybe a month ago, I would have taken umbrage, but these days it seems everyone is spying on us. At least you're not trying to kill us upon first meeting."
As they travel the streets, Arimar continues whenever they are out of earshot, [b]"So, you have information on Lanvi - well her daughter, at least, not that I've ever met her - and I say that's a good enough reason to hear what you have to say. Pray, what is it that you would ask in return?"