While the attendants frantically attempt to douse the flames...
"Aiah, I assume that was you... can you slip out now? Or can you at least become visible without being noticed so that we can get out of here inconspicuously?" the captain asks, still scanning the room for Gwen.
The message spell activates in everyone's ear, and 'Aiah cannot manage to suppress a grunt of pain before whispering. "Explosion was me. Sorry Malgrim, nothing I am doing seems to be helping. I guess you are on your own for now. Let us know if you get caught. I would prefer not to wreck this place rescuing you, but I'll do what I've got to do..."
"Don't want to come out of invisibility now. Burned myself bad when I made that bomb go off, and with my luck they would accuse me of blowing it up outright and we would be in even worse shape. I'll try to slip out before my spell wears off, but want to stay in place for now in case Malgrim still needs us."
"Got an idea," the captain's whispered voice comes in loud and clear while the flames are being doused, "Why don't I feign illness and get that guard to escort me and Gwen outside so that I can be taken to the temple of Sarenrae? What do you say? Give it a go?"
Captain Reginald Romsky makes his way over to Gwendolyn, with her friendly in tow.
"Thank you for your concern, my dear," the captain tilts his head at Gwen, "But I seem to be fine for now. How is everything going in here? Any idea what that explosion was?" The captain adds that last piece to hopefully alleviate suspicion that they might have something to do with it.
"Yes, that sounds like a plan," Gwendolyn'a voice answers in a tight whisper. "Go for it..."
"The cause seems unknown," she begins, responding to Arimar and his questions. The halfling is careful to be sure she is speaking loud enough, and in close enough proximity, so the guard that stands under the weight of her spell can easily hear. "... but it is concerning, to say the least."
"I'm glad that you are feeling better," she says to the disguised captain, reaching out with an arm and placing her small, delicate hand gently on his. "But I'm a little afraid you're putting a brave face on the situation, acting as though nothing we're hurting you when you are clearly still in discomfort... as you are want to do..." she adds the last comment, fairly certain the aasimar can be stubborn from time to time. "Now with what's going on here... and this fire... I'd like to get you out of here, to be sure you're safe."
"I assure you my dear, I am quite alright," Captain Romsky waves off her hand, "Besides, only the Sarenites at the temple of Sarenrae might have any clue what is causing my... my headaches... in... the ... the first... place... aaarrgh!" Captain Reginald Romsky collapses to his knees in the middle of the room, clutching at his temples as though in the throes of agony.
He makes no lies with his tongue, but Reginald does his best to put on a show of experiencing even more pain than the very real pain he felt upon entering the place.
After gaining a bit of distance from the window he exited from, the hobgoblin reaches out to cause a tile near where he previously stood to noise, mentally directing it to scrape along the roof as if it had been kicked up moving in the opposite direction he currently resided in, then allowing it to fall to the ground.
Hoping to put more distance from his location, Malgrim continues along the top of the roof.
"Yeah, he doesn't look very good. What's wrong with you captain? Can't get sick myself. Wife's at home, pregnant again. Hope thins time its mine, Right? Haha." he laughs at his self-deprecating joke.
"Come on, let's get him out of here." With that Burt escorts the good captain and Gwen to the door to the Dancing Room. At each exit, the Dancing Room, the Gambling Room, and the stair case, all had a compliment of three guards. Now the entrance to the Gambling Room only has two, since Burt has vacated his post and is now escorting you.
There the three guards look perplexed at Burt. "What the f@$! are you doing Burt? Get back to your post before Dalton kicks your ass and then fires you. You know your wife's pregnant. How you going to feed all your kids man?"
"Naw, this is the real deal fellas. See the Captain here, he's got something. Got it bad. Need to get him to a temple or we are going to have a problem." begins Dalton.
"I am sure as hell not going to let some nobleman die. He was hanging with that weird golem maker in the other room. I am sure he is all good."
The guards look at one another, clearly unsure of how to proceed.
They quickly put their heads together and hold a whispered conversation.
"Burt, you know the rules, No one leaves until we get the all clear. But we aren't about to let some nobleman die. Dalton finds out about this, we are placing one hundred percent of the blame on you." They give him a resigned look and step aside to let you all through.
Malgrim continues to moves stealthily across the roof.
'Aiah watches with interest as Gwen sweet talks her way back into connection with Arimar, or the good captain as he is currently disguised, and carefully moves in closer. As the guards discuss, she uses the opportunity to slide through the opening that Burt leaves.
Just before leaving, Burt pulls Gwen and The Good Captain close, but not too close. "Dalton is away. Wade's in charge outside. I really have no pull with him, but I will put in a good word."
Leaving the Dancing Room behind, Burt leads the group to the fresh air of the courtyard. He walks up to to an older an with salt and pepper hair, whip thin but strong and wry. He sports a fantastic mustache and stubble of a bead.
"Burt, what are you doing?! Explain to me why you left your post and who these people are before I kick your ass back inside my self." Turning back to the companions, the man address them. "Keep you hands still, no spell casting or weapon drawing. Explain your purpose." he ends in a not too friendly tone.
"Big shot noble is sick. Don't want a noble house coming down on me. Got kids and a pregnant wife. Up to you get face their wrath." Burt adds in unapologetic.
Malgrim continues his arduous prowl along the rooftop, moving dangerously close to the edge to risk a single glance back down to admire (hopefully) his handywork at creating a diversion, nearly supernaturally melding with the sheltering stones.
"Thank you, so much. Mr. Burt, you are an angel," Gwendolyn thanks the guard then looks about the smoking room. "I hate to keep asking favors of you, Mr. Burt, and I would never want to get you into trouble with your boss... Mr. Dalton, is it?" Then the halfling takes a moment to continue looking about the room to be sure no other guards are within earshot. For her next request, the halfling wants to be sure their are no prying ears able acknowledge her intentions.
"Could you please help escort us outside?" she looks up the guard sheepishly, her eyes are big and pleading. "This party seems to be falling apart and with the dear captain being ill, I'd rather just be free and clear of this place... you know, away and safe."
"Good evening, Mr. Wade," Gwendolyn looks to the man in charge and raises both hands in a respectful gesture. Making sure it is clear she is not casting any spells, the halfling keeps her hands raised and still, the continues speaking in a measured, respectful tone.
"As Burt had said, my companion is ill. I fear he may be worse than when we arrived, when his condition reared its head in the beginning. Plus, apparently the guests have become prisoners, of sorts, in a grand noble house, which doesn't quite sit will with me... given my history growing up as a slip in cheliax... But even more than that, the guards in the smoking room were drawing their weapons and swinging at who knows what... there was a fire, or an explosion, that no one seemed to care about... and there is a madman, or a madwoman, screaming about being attacked in the smoking room too..."
"Given all of this, we are trying to remove ourselves from a situation that does not feel safe in the slightest, and is brimming up to tip the scale in the direction of chaos," she concludes her discussion, keeping but her tone respectful but not apologetic, as if her requests are the most logical outcomes given the situation at hand. "This is why we are standing before you, requesting to be set free from this place."
"I promise we will all be at the Temple of Sarenrae tomorrow if you have any further questions," Captain Reginald Romsky adds, also truthfully. Though I will no longer be disguised and I'm sure we'll manage to find a way to keep Gwen out of sight if you come knocking.
"Now, let us go or... yeaaargh!" Captain Romsky deliberately does not follow through with his threat and instead stumbles forwards and gropes for Burt's support.
"How serious is this? Will you die in the next 10 minutes? I think it can wait. Can you please give me your invitation please?" comes the firm questioning from Wade. He turns to one of his subordinates and whispers something. The man turns and runs back into the villa. "And Burt, get back to your post. Now!"
Burt gives Gwen a nod and a longing look before retreating back inside the Villa.
Malgrim edges along the rooftop, as far as possible from the distracted guards, before preparing his descent.
Taking a moment to calm his breating, Malgrim enters a state of calm as he lowers himself down the wall, willing himself to be a shadow of the man he his, letting his fingertips dance along the stony exterior as he tries to make it to the ground without calling attention to himself.
Scaling the wall like a spider, Malgrim reaches the ground before the guards can eve react. They look up and fumble for their crossbows.
Nimble as a spider, Malgrim makes his escape from the roof! Moving to the ledge, he twists in mid-air, grabs the ledge, and shimmies down the wall to the ground, landing about fourty feet away from the guards that are caught in what might have been a comical mixture of grabbing at the array of displaced documents and fumbling with their crossbows. His feet had barely hit the ground when he launches off in the direction of any sheltering shadows or architecture that could break visibility from the guards.
A few crossbow bolts I can deal with, a mob I cannot. Hopefully I can lose them when I get off the grounds and make my way to other rooftops if needed.
Malgrim touches down lightly on the soft loamy, soil. No sooner do his feet land than he is off and running. Both guards turn on their heals and fire a shot at Malgrim.
"Halt!" both men unimaginatively cry at the same time. Not stopping, Malgrim pumps his arms to gain more speed heading for the short hedge separating Versade Villa from the Marble District.
The first guard lets his crossbow dangle, while the second guard raises a horn to his lips and blows a loud, clear blast.
comes the horn blast.
"Get there now. East you fools!" Wade barks at the guards around him. Turning to Gwen and the good captain, "You all better stay right here. I don't care if he dies on the steps, when I get back you all better be right where you are."he yells to Gwen as all but two guards run to the east.
The halfling reaches into a hidden fold of the elegant dress she is wearing and manages to produce the invitation from some unknown and secret location. The very act of Gwendolyn gently tracing her hand along the softly shifting fabric of the garment with quivering, fishing fingers that seem to search playfully for an opening carries an obviously sexual tone, ending with the woman holding aloft the document with a satisfied grin.
"Here you are Mr. Wade," she says, stretching her hand out slightly toward the man. "My invita--" Her words are cut off just as a booming horn cries out from within the villa at their back.
the halfling yells toward the running man as he and a cluster of guards runs off toward the signal in the east.
She stands for a moment, letting her ringing cry fade into silence. Then she turns to the two remaining guards. "The situation here has more than convinced us that this party is not safe. The situation seems to be further deteriorating with each passing second. A madwoman yelling inside about being attack. An explosion in the smoking room. Guests being treated as prisoners," the halfling rattles off her bothers at the two remain guards, raising a finger with each example to show them plainly her discontent. "And now the guards are running off and scurrying as if this whole place were under attack."
"My friend here is sick, as I have already explained," she continues, her eyes staring coldly at the men. "We are not staying here any longer. Nor am I asking your permission to leave. You have convinced me, and my friend, that it is no longer safe here. As we are free peoples, we are not asking any permissions to take our leave. It is our right to protect ourselves if we feel we are in danger."
"We are going now... and that is last of it. We will be at the temple if you, or your boss, has further questions," she then once again tucks away her invitation within the shifting hem of her dress.
"Let's get you help," Gwendolyn says now turning to Arimar and begins pushing him away from the structure and not waiting for the guards to react. It is clear she intends simply to walk away, no matter what is said to make her stay.
"Thank... you... oh, dear..." Reginald stumbles forwards, leaning on the nearest guard for support, "Aaaarghh.... oh, that was the worst one yet. Your captain clearly doesn't want us to leave your sight, perhaps you could escort us to the temple to be sure we get there safely... and to make sure we're actually there. I'm sure one of the inner sanctum guards could fill your post. Burt, perhaps... and you'd no doubt be back before your captain even knew you were missing. If we died on your watch, however... the consequences would be dire. I have firm friends in the Mindurian family."
Before Wade turns to leave, he nods to one of the guards. "Get them to the the temple of Sarenrae, wherever the hell that is, and get back here double time. Now!" he yells before sprinting with a small contingent behind him to the east.
That has to be Malgrim...
She uses the chaos to leave the courtyard, still in invisible form. While she is sure no one is paying attention, she activates the message spell.
"That you 'grim? All the guards are rushing to... somewhere... You need help?"
Malgrim can only grimace as he hears the horn bray behind him as he dead out runs towards the hedge ahead. They seek to chase a rabbit? Let them try and trap a rat that was born on the streets. Nimbly he rushes forward towards his exit of the villa grounds...
... and in his haste stumbles into the same poorly maintained patch of ground that tripped him up on his intial entry.
Emitting a very un-Malgrim-like curse, Malgrim chides himself for getting so caught up in the moment that he forgot the past. Center, or all is lost. Without even glancing back to see how close the guards are, figuring if he is caught he would be caught, he once again attempts to clear the hedge.
With a spinning leap, the hobgoblin barrels out of the villa grounds, landing feet-first on the streets of Manginar. Making quick glances to each side, he heads towards the nearest building ahead, attempting to play to his pursuit's sight disadvantage by sticking to the largest pools of shadow whenever possible and seeking out the maze of buildings he'd seen of the city prior.
Finally clearing the hedge, Malgrim finds himself on the streets of Magnimar in the dead of night. Sticking to shadows, he flits from one to the other remaining hidden.
Maglrim's message comes through: Exit made. Get clear. There is a brief pause, then See you in the Morning.
When he first set out, his plan had been to make a safe distance then angle back to Lavni's rooms but a sudden thought strikes him. "Did I trigger some ward or Alarm at the villa? Perhaps among them is a Mage that can track me... Just as he clears the Villa, he changes his destination.
With the inital pursuit lost, Malgrim quickly attempts to further lose himself in the urban maze of Manginar, in a harrowing rush, sometimes making turns seemingly at random to ensure that he isn't followed. Ducking into one side alley, he springs over a set of stacked crates to scramble up to a rooftop in order to get his bearings, and judge how effective his departure had been. As the thudding drum of adrenaline fades he considers his plan once more. It is unfortunate, but returning to Lavni's straight away brings danger on her... and potentially unwanted questions. Returning to the ground, he moves deeper into the city, pausing briefly to reassure himself that he had lost his pursuit, at which point he peels off his outer robe and puts it into his bag, wearing his traveling clothes. Adopting a casual stroll, he seeks out a nearby tavern, and in a very un-Malgrim-like turn, he proceeds to order a drink of ale. Then another.
Hours later, if pursuit appeared fully cleared, only then does he stumble towards Lavni's.
"We are headed to the Temple of Sarenrae," Captain Romsky notes over message, "Best not to meet us there. The fewer of us they know about connected to Gwen and I, the better." He left that last part in for Benaiah's sake. The man might intend to meet them there after his spell wore off, but it would only raise unnecessary questions.
"Aiah, might be best if you just returned home," he adds to be more explicit. Benaiah sometimes wasn't so good at understanding subtlety.
The captain brandishes the twin symbol of Gozreh - nothing unusual for a sea captain - and Sarenrae to show how serious his solemn oath on that matter is.
Captain Reginald Romsky enters the Temple of Sarenrae, as he promised. He finds a private prayer room, makes sure he isn't followed and removes his disguise.
"Let's meet back at Lanvi's tomorrow," comes Arimar's message to all within range, "I think I will see if I can find quarters here for the night."
No sooner has he delivered the message than Arimar finds himself assailed by waves of agony like none he has felt before. He crawls from the prayer room, barely dressed and leaving his belongings behind.
"Help!" he cries during a slight lull in the pain. Acolytes rush to the man an instant before he passes out.
Abadar's domain is Aktun, the closest district of Axis to Pharasma's Spire. The hated outcropping at least shaded Urgathoa from the lights that filled the streets of Axis as she made her way to the citadel where Abadar would oversee the battle for ownership over her chosen with that b%!#& Sarenrae. Arimar will be mine, and once Sarenrae is forbidden from interfering, I will have him painfully killed and raised to serve me for all eternity.
Urgathoa is the first to arrive and is escorted to a mock courtroom. The, currently empty, galley is more like a stadium, rising in all directions around the judge's bench. Abadar sits there, resplendent in his gold plate mail with a short cropped beard that went out of fashion in Golarion centuries ago. "Is locating it here really necessary?" the half-woman, half-skeleton goddess asks, gesturing to the grand courtroom, "A simple meeting room would have sufficed."
Abadar tries not to roll his eyes. Impertinence is what one should expect from the evil gods. They have come here for your ruling, it would not do to show exasperation. "Yes," he states flatly, "The very substance of this place makes my rulings binding. By coming here, you have agreed to be bound buy whatever judgement is made concerning the matter you bring forth."
Urgathoa darkens significantly at this revelation.
"That is good, very good," the mellifluous voice of Sarenrae floats into the room as the voice's owner does the same. Her golden radiance casts a glow over all the courtroom, except in the vicinity of Urgathoa.
"Shall we begin?" she asks, and when Abadar nods, launches into a speech about the autonomy of mortals and why giving them a 'gift' does not make them beholden to any god or goddess. All the while Urgathoa seethes, rolls her eyes and generally makes as though she wants to interrupt. Sarenrae notices and smiles. One at a time in the Court of Abadar, whether you want it or not. You really should have done some more research before agreeing to this, my dear.
When Sarenrae has finished her piece on the autonomy of mortals she adds, "Arimar has had a very hard childhood. He only followed the way of Urgathoa because of what was done to him. Her clergy kept him secluded and fed him lies. His choice was no choice at all. A child believes what is told to them by there natural or adoptive parents. Urgathoa gave him no choice, and thus her claim on Arimar is void. He is angel-blooded, and the good in him should be allowed to shine rather than be repressed."
"And what have you to say on the matter, Urgathoa?" Abadar asks.
"He only lives because of me and the gift I gave him!" Urgathoa screams, as though after being unable to speak her words have been building up like water behind a dam, "When he was in trouble, the gift is what saved his life. When he was being oppressed by the Pharasmins, my priests healed him and took him under their wing.
"He then chose freely to follow me," Urgathoa adds, "And then she undoes my holy test of his faith, the lack of taste - something she had no right to do! - and suddenly he is overjoyed. Who wouldn't be? Of course he's coming to you after that. You poached him!
"But he is mine. Look how he lied and twisted his way out of the situation in Magnimar. Hardly a fitting follower of 'the Dawnflower' now, is he?"
"Sarenrae?"
"His only lie was in acting out pain, his mouth spoke no untruths," Sarenrae is quick to defend Arimar.
"As for the healing we provided, he came to my temple, of his own free will," Sarenrae notes, "And asked to be healed. That gives me every right to heal him. All who come to me shall be healed. Not to mention he had many doubts before then. Need I remind you of his prayers at the shrine after your allies attacked him?"
"Urgathoa?"
"It's all about the prayers is it? Well, let's see who he prays to first! If it's his choice, then let us see who he chooses for his morning prayer!" Urgathoa loses her patience.
"Very well," Sarenrae agrees.
Unaware of the godly battle being waged for his soul in the City of Axis, Arimar recovers from his agony of the previous night. Still within the Temple of Sarenrae, he sits down to his morning devotions. He slices off a delightfully salty piece of ham and chews it while he thinks long and hard about what to say. In the end, he elects to break a promise he made to himself not so long ago.
"Urgathoa," he begins.