The Pallid Princess smiles a victorious smile.
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"Go f$~* yourself," he finishes, before praying and meditating upon the teachings of Sarenrae, asking her for guidance in his daily spells.
The Dawnflower smiles a victorious smile.
"No! He still prayed to me first! You saw it! Make him mine!" she demands of Abadar.
"That was not a prayer, it was a rejection," Sarenrae shakes her head, "You are grasping at straws."
"A prayer is a prayer, just because the word 'f$@~' isn't in your vocabulary..." Urgathoa spits, "Claim him all you like, but Arimar was my chosen and he will never be a cleric of the Healing Light!"
"Done," Sarenrae replies, looking immediately to Abadar.
Abadar slams his gavel down with finality upon the circular block.
"No!!! It's not what I meant!" Urgathoa screams.
"A settlement has been reached," Abadar says, his voice filling the room, "Arimar is claimed by Sarenrae, but he shall not be her cleric. No more will Urgathoa have any claim to the mortal aasimar known as Arimar, her now former cleric. Now, I have other business to which I must attend."
With a wave of Abadar's gavel, both goddesses are returned to their home planes.
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"That went well," the smooth, even feminine voice of Pharasma notes to her fellow god, "I take it none of that invalidates the hold that I have over this mortal. My agreement still stands, yes?"
"Of course," Abadar says without hesitation, "Nothing has changed."
"Excellent."
As Arimar completes his prayers to Sarenrae, his body is wracked with convulsions. A pain enters his mind like none he has ever felt before. Sensations akin to the stabbing of a red-hot poker into his brain assail the man. Each time he feels the agony of another stab, a spell flees his consciousness - his mind simply cannot seem to hold onto them. Blessedly, he passes out.
When Arimar awakes, the pain is gone. However, he finds that his hearing has dulled, his once-crisp eyesight has blurred slightly and he finds himself unable to concentrate on more than one thing at a time. Searching through his mind, he does find the familiar fragments of spells... but only two! They are familiar to him, but the prayers to cast them are different.
Still reeling, Arimar slowly picks himself up off the floor. That is when he notices that his clothing is far too tight. He looks down to see sleek muscles - the muscles of a man who has been fighting all his life. He stumbles back, knocking into a lamp. It topples, but Arimar's reflexes kick in and he grabs it mid-fall.
"Sweet Sarenrae," he says aloud, becoming more and more comfortable with her name, "What has happened to me?"
Arimar gathers all of his things and rushes to the head priestess's office. He flings open the doors without knocking and interrupts Khania's morning devotions. She looks up, and it is some time before recognition flashes in her eyes - some time before she realises that the muscular, athletic man before here is indeed the skinny necromancer she saw last night.
"What has happened to me?" Arimar begs.
Khania jumps to her feet. "Arimar. You are here. In the flesh. The dream. Was it a dream? It could not have been by the Dawnflower's warming rays. You are here." Khania runs slides next to the man, embracing him in an enveloping hug.
"She came to me. My ... our goddess. She said that you have seen her light, the blinding light of redemption. That it has burned the corruption from you. Is it true. Are you really .. I.." unable to finish as tears stream down her face, she once again envelops him in a warm embrace. Chin resting on his shoulder, she mouths prayers to Sarenrae.
"Arimar, I am so happy. There is more. Something that our goddess has shown me. We have little wealth here, and fewer treasures. But there is one here. We held on to it, none here really know how to use it. When we fight it tends to be with light blades, smaller thrown weapons. This is a weapon for war. For those that fight for our goddess' righteousness. I think ... I know it is meant for you. Come." Grabbing his hand she leads him down a winding staircase to a locked door. Fingering through her rings of keys, she unlocks a door and enters a dimly lit, dusty store room. Moving from crate to crate, she finds one marked with the Dawmflower's holy symbol. "Be a dear and grab that crowbar over there." she points to a rack of tools against the near wall. Absently grabbing it from his hands, she wedges it underneath the lid. Dropping to her knees, she tries to pry the cover off. Huffing mighty, she looks to Arimar, "A hand please." she grunts through gritted teeth.
With a heave and hoe, the lid cracks off in a splinter of wood. Ripping the cover off, pulling straw packing by the handful out of the crate, she finally finds the treasure buried inside. "Ins't it beautiful? Wield it in mercy and justice."
"If it was a dream," Arimar responds, "Then it is one that we shared. I am indeed here. As to who I am, I do not know... rather, we shall find out together." Those words, my lips. They sound so alien, but so right at the same time.
Arimar returns Khania's embrace, sharing in her joy. He feels love for this woman like he has never felt before. It is filled with respect, admiration and a mutual philosophy. It is devoid of lust or attraction - save for the fact that she is objectively attractive - and it simply is.
The newly massive man, rippling with muscles, is led down the stairs both apprehensive and excited for what Khania might show him. He trusts in Sarenrae that all will be well. I could never say the same for when I was at the mercy of Urgathoa's whims.
As the lid of the crate clatters to the floor, Arimar is amazed by what is within. Slowly and reverently he draws out the heavy, curved blade. It is akin to a scimitar, the holy weapon of Sarenrae, but it is much larger and would require two hands to be wielded properly. Arimar's mighty hands grasp the hilt and he admires the cross-piece, a stylized version of the angelic ankh of Sarenrae, with the wings at right-angles to the blade and extended more than is usual. The whole affair is plated in a shimmering gold that draws the eye and picks up the tiniest motes of light, reflecting them forth with renewed beauty.
He gives the falchion an experimental swish, and finds that he feels an unusually practiced comfort with the weapon. When did I learn how to wield this?
"There is more," Arimar notes as he gazes back within the crate. He draws forth a shining suit of golden armor. Its plates are free of blemish and are engraved all over with symbols of the dawn and rays of sunlight. Somehow, Arimar knows that this too was intended for him.
"Will you help me don it?" he asks of Khania, still hesitant, "This... all of this... will take some getting used to."
The armored knight of Sarenrae picks his way through the streets of Magnimar. He strides boldly forwards, secure in the protection his goddess affords him, divinely confident in skills he has heretofore never used. Lanvi's Villa was the meeting place they set in the end. He feels a small pang of guilt for not being at the Temple as he promised and breaking an oath, but it was never his intent to break it. Besides, I shall be back at the Temple soon enough... and they will still not know me. Heavens, I don't know me. Why do I care about my word anyway?
Somehow, even the relatively clean streets of Magnimar seem more putrid today. The gutters a little more fetid, the vagrants more unwashed. Arimar wonders briefly if this is simply by comparison or if something has genuinely changed in the city. He brushes off the sensation and continues on.
Raim hungers for the one who has wronged him. The early dawn light shows his bloated corpse. The bloating belies how hungry Raim truly is, the insatiable drive to feed that controls his every move. Raim is by seawater penetrating its rotted skin - not by feasting on fresh, living flesh. This is a situation the zombie wishes to correct. To do so, he will feed on his betrayer.
"Llllllaaaaaannnnnnvvvvviiiiiii," he moans as early morning passers-by give him a wide berth.
Fido, too, hungers for living flesh. He is not, however, driven by betrayal... but by the command that was last given to him by someone other than the necromancer. It was a command to kill. A command to kill someone at all costs. While the original command cost Fido his life, it did not cost him the drive to complete it.
"Rrrrrraaaaaannnnnnvvvvviiiiiii," he growls in a mockery of a humanoid voice as he follows Raim through the streets and towards Mistress Lanvi's villa.
When the guards had refused to let Arimar into the villa because they simply did not believe it was him, he had waited there and demanded they fetch Mistress Lanvi. It became rapidly clear that Arimar was the more stubborn and so Lanvi was woken and fetched. It took some explanation, some convincing, and a few whispered secrets before he was admitted, but eventually the gates to her villa were opened.
"Thank you, Mistress," Arimar bows, "This is strange for me also. I imagine Benaiah will be the one who will need the most conv.... get back!" Arimar throws Lanvi back and to the ground. Before she can protest, two bloated corpses rush into the gates behind Arimar. Each stinks of decay and salt water, and Mistress Lanvi eventually recognizes the one on the right as the deformed body of her former servant, Raim. Arimar, however, recognizes them both instantly. Disgusting. How did I ever imagine these things were appropriate tools?
"Llllllaaaaaannnnnnvvvvviiiiiii," they both seem to say in unison as they lurch towards the Mistress.
Fido flops around Arimar and lunges for Lanvi. His oddly breathless maw hangs inches from his target's face, but that movement was all he could manage before Arimar could strike.
Arimar draws his weapon in an instant and steps around to put himself between Raim and Lanvi , but focusing his attention on Fido. He mutters a prayer to Sarenrae and she blesses his weapon . He further infuses the blade with all the disgust and revulsion he feels for these creatures and strikes out as hard as he can.
Arimar's blade finds the base of Fido's skull. There is a brilliant flash of holy light as flesh parts and bone breaks. Fido is beheaded and the energies released by Arimar's sword cause the rest of his body to lose form and crumble apart.
Undeterred by the loss of his companion, Raim decides that the best way to Lanvi is through his former master. He draws his longsword and strikes.
The clumsy weapon goes very wide, leaving Arimar's glimmering armor untouched.
With a heavy sigh, and a grim look of determination, Arimar plants his feet in front of Lanvi and swings yet again, this time at the first zombie he had created since breaking Benaiah out of jail. A noble cause, I had thought back then, but look at the consequences. Who knows how many these two have maimed while I had forgotten about them?
Arimar brings down the flesh-soaked falchion. A holy flash of light cleans the blade and guides it on its way to Raim the Mindless.
Not as spectacular as before, the blow against Raim is nevertheless devastating. Arimar's weapon parts the creature's collarbone, cleaves through its ribcage and the vitals within before lodging in Raim's left hip bone. A quick yank dislodges the falchion and, as with Fido, Raim's body collapses in a pile of flesh and bone.
Arimar wipes his weapon clean on a rag and sheaths it before standing proud and tall before Lanvi. He offers his hand for her to get up.
"This will take quite some getting used to..." he says with a wry grin, "Have the others arrived yet?"
Malgrim awakens with bleary eyes, aching muscles, and a very unfamiliar hangover. Silently he curses himself. You have become complacent, unprepared. Your actions could have brought peril to your companions. As he collects his thoughts, he hears the sounds of combat and rushes out of his rooms.
Bounding down the stairs, Malgrim looks... disheveled and illkept, with a smell of alcohol still on him. He rapidly scans the surroundings for danger, momentarily displaying a fan of earthen blades extending from his hands, which he retracts when it appears danger has past.
"I see that things have been exciting in my absence."
Malgrim briefly recounts his story. "I had only been upstairs a brief time and was investigating a storage room when all the Hells started to break loose. I imagine there was some Alarm spell I missed and triggered." He pulls out his backpack and reveals the ciphered documents. "I did find a cache of ciphered documents in a locked chest. I thought that perhaps we might find something of note within them, if your other endeavors failed."
"I did find a cache of ciphered documents in a locked chest."
Entering the room, the halfling has already composed herself for the day, having woken early to put herself together. She sees Malgrim speaking to a stranger and cannot help but wonder why the hobgoblin would be divulging information to what seems a stranger. It was true that Gwedolyn was near a stranger to the group herself, but she hoped she had helped prove her worth and devotion to these new friends, even if not Mistress Lanvi, the previous night.
Turning to behold the stranger the halflings eyes widen in what appears genuine shock. Without thinking she exhales, releasing a stunned breath and taking a step backward in amazement. She had thought this a stranger, but somehow it was Armiar, though it looked almost nothing like how she knew him to be. The aasimar standing before her now was well-built, with chiseled muscles showing prominently, peering the gaps in his resplendent golden armor.
"Aaaaa... rimiar..." she can barely manage the words. "Is that you...?" She cannot help but stare at the aasimar, taking in his obviously powerful form and towering stature.
"What has happened... how can this be?"
As the companions muster the following morning, servants bring in large trays of toasted breads, platters of sliced fruits, and a large ceramic bowl filled with warmed cereals. The smell of sugars and spices is enough to set anyone one of them to drooling.
As they break their fast, Mistress Lanvi swoops in and takes a seat on one of the cushioned chairs in the corner. Smoothing her dress, she launches in. "Much has occurred since we last spoke. In chronological order, I met this Khania of yours. Typical religious zealot. Knows so little of the real world .... By the Book of Joy, Arimar. What the hell happened to you? I swear you four change so rapidly.
"And Malgrim, you look as if you slept in a bar. Benaiah, stop rubbing your nose. Get yourself a kerchief. And my dear Gwen. How nice you look. You could all take a page from Gwen's book here. If you are to become my business partners, there is a certain standard I'd like you to uphold." she sniffs loudly. "Remind me dear, I have some creams from the Mwgani Waste that can enhance those curls I can give you.
"As I was saying, I met Khania and her and I reached an amicable agreement. Keoiki shall be first in, and I a close second provided you all are successful. I will be helping quite a bit with some logistics.
"In Magnimar news, it seems the Versatude Villa was raided last night. Most fingers point to me. Makes sense as I hate them. You all know anything about that? How I would love to spend a day in that place!" she muses to herself.
"Lastly, I seems that there was some sort of undead attack upon my estate last night. Care to explain yourself, Arimar?"
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Up in the distance, Benaiah sees the familiar ears of his unlikely hobgoblin friend behind the bars of Mistress Lanvi's estate. He recognizes the diminuitive stature and flowing locks of the halfling as well and lowers his eyes to the ground to watch his feet hit the cobblestone with each step.
His lips feel dry and cracked and his skin was a strange mixture of hypersensitivity and dull numbness. With each rushed step a thrum fills his ears, matching his shallow, quick breathing.
They are going to see you like this, and everyone will know. You can be so pathetic... You really should let me help you more with this. Give me another taste... The voice in his head echoes with the force of a hammer. No longer did the voice ask, beg, and plead. It was more of a suggestion, one that felt impossible to turn down. The walls that Benaiah had constructed to keep the voice at bay, keep him under control were broken down the night before in a single wiff of pesh powder.
He reaches down to his satchel, absently feeling for where his vials of liquid magical extract used to be held. Now, instead of vials, there is a small box, simple and smooth, but well constructed. Inside of the box several packets of powder lay, filed neatly and in specific arrangement. Any chemist worth his salt knows how to apply his doses to a variety of delivery systems, and in this case, pesh powder would make a powerful synergy with his magics.
And hopefully keep the voice appeased.
Walking through the opened gate, he approaches the gathered group, lifting his eyes only slightly to catch sight of the three gathered there. He rubs his face vigorously and paints a smile. "Mornin'. Sounds like everyone made it out ok last night, hopefully with some bit of information we can make money on." Benaiah nods at the documents Malgrim holds. "Where the hell is Arimar? He isn't still at the temple is he? You were with him last Cadence..." Benaiah's last question is not accusatory, nor is he implying anything but his own impatience.
"At least I'm not the last one to show up this morning." he says with a half-hearted chuckle, looking back down the road as if the spindly aasimar might be approaching just behind him.
Finally looking up at the resplendent armored man in front of him, he sizes him up and files away a few quick judgements in the back of his mind, just in case things got physical. "You another one of Lanvi's pets? I'd watch your back, the last pet she introduced to us ended up working for us. Though we might have to have a talk with her if she keeps sending us her loose ends to tie up." Benaiah turns back to the gate, rubbing his hands together to ward off the morning chill.
"I can hardly believe what has happened myself, Gwen," Arimar begins, his deep voice now possessing an almost mellifluous timbre, "But I can say that I have never felt this good in all my life. It seems I have spent decades upon decades as a prisoner to Urgathoa. Sarenrae has saved me. It is her that I now serve, but to do so I have been reborn. I don't know how it happened, but I believe that is what the headaches were. No longer can I recall spells as I did when I was a cleric. My faith is now directed physically. I still have some art with divine magics, but it is extremely limited.
"And yes, Benaiah, it is me," Arimar smiles at his long time companion, "It really will take some getting used to. Tell me, though, in all our time together have you ever seen me this happy? Ye gods, have you ever seen me happy? I am confused by everything that has occurred, yes, but I am whole now. I am free."
"Untrue."
"So... what do we know from the party last night?" Arimar asks, "Captain Reginald Romsky made a friend, but he's unlikely to be ever able to make use of it. Even if his falsehoods aren't discovered, I'm not even sure if I could disguise myself as him again." Arimar looks down at his massive biceps. It is unlikely they would ever fit within Reginald's sleeves.
"Mistress Lanvi, I am very curious as to what you did to secure your place in line for use of the Fountain of Bethesda," Arimar notes pointedly, "In the interest of openness and our new agreement, would you care to tell us?" Please tell me you didn't threaten my new brothers and sisters of the faith.
"As for the undead who attacked, you may have recognized Raim and the bunyip I raised a while back," Arimar seems genuinely contrite as he admits this, "When this transformation in me occurred, the mystical bonds that held them under my sway were removed. No more can I command the undead, it seems. Urgathoa's only taint on me that remains is this tattoo. I would guess that their previous motivations kicked in and they came to attack you.
"But worry not, it was fate and not luck that sent me here at the right time to protect you," Arimar adds, very sure of himself, "But I do apologize for the shock this caused you and for any harm they may have done. I will take full responsibility and, if you like, I will launder your dress by hand myself until the grime is gone." Something truly must have changed for Arimar to offer to do Lanvi's laundry. It feels good to face my burdens openly.
"Now, about the Villa..."
Mistres Lanvi bristles as Arimar utters the phrase in the interest of openness.
With a resigned sigh, "Yes, openness. We are open now, aren't we. No need to launder my clothing Arimar." she stares sideways at the newly transformed man. "The priestess Khania and I reached a business arrangement. The church of Seranrae is quite small in Magnimar, and without much power and influence. And they don't have the business vision of what this fountain will do. Magnimar, and their temple, will be the epicenter of healing on Gorlarion. For a fee, I will assist you and the temple with logistics, and once the fountain is working, provided you can make it work, I will help them with the administration of one of the wonders of this world. And we get to have Keoki and I healed first." She smiles a triumphant smile. "And since we are business partners, you will share in the riches of the fountain with me."
Arimar breathes a sigh of relief, though whether it was audible or not he doesn't take note. The old Arimar was never this careless about showing his true emotions.
"That is good to hear," the big man smiles, "We religious-types never do think about what kind of business acumen would be required to truly reach more of those who need it, but marketing is as important for a church as it is for any enterprise. You have my thanks."
Malgrim seems to take Arimar's transformation with typical aplomb and an enigmatic saying. "There are many whose exterior self does not match their interior. I am pleased that you have managed to make those two meet."
Malgrim looks supremely uncomfortable as Lavni regales about the previous evening, looking to the more talkitive of the party to broach the subject.
"Raid" is a very strong word... Bungling intrusion is more accurate.
Following Malgrim's very eloquent and heartfelt words, the halfling pipes up. "Well said, Malgrim."
"Anyone will be hard pressed to describe the amazing transformation that has happened to you in a better way... So I will just add, you look incredible and it appears a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. I know we've only met a few days ago, but I can honestly say that I could not be happier for you. I hope that you have found peace and dispelled all demons that may have been haunting you."
Gwendolyn holds up her journal for the others to see, taking a moment to flip open the pages and rifle through to the latest entry. "After I got back last night, I made sure to note the conversation Benaiah and I overheard between Zakon and the handmaiden."
She clears her throat, the reads the small snippets of dialog, prefacing each comment with the person who spoke it.
Handmaiden "... come on. You know its yours ..."
Zakon " ... not telling."
Handmaiden " ... not me, then ...."
Zakon " ... from Kapesh ...."
Handmaiden " ... so much money. How 'bout you buy me .... "
Zakon " .... worth it ..."
Arimar listens intently to what Gwen has to say. He looks to Malgrim and then back to Benaiah. "Wow. I really have no idea what any of that actually means or could mean," he admits at last.
"The real question here is: do we share all this with Lanvi?" ignorant of any vital information they might possess, Arimar addresses the elephant in the room, "We agreed on sharing, and yet here we have embarked upon a mission behind her back. It certainly would seem that this is information we can and should use... but to use it against her seems both out of the spirit of the agreement and a risky proposition. If we share the information, she could help us to decipher it - and it also shows good faith on our behalf. If we conceal it and she discovers us, it would be very bad for our continued relationship."
Arimar shakes his head. "I have berated Lanvi many times about keeping things from us. My indignation still rings strong in her ears, no doubt. I do wish to cast myself as a hypocrite, and certainly not so soon after our mutual venture begins. What say the rest of you?"
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Benaiah takes the revelation of Arimar's changes with very little outward reaction, other than an extended stunned silence. The first few bits of the continuing conversation are lost on him as he stares at the muscular man and his shining gold armor.
For the rest of the conversation, Benaiah never takes his eyes off of the aasimar.
"Yes, we couldn't hear much. I'll be careful not to speculate too much, but I would guess with all the pesh in that room that Zakon and his family are into some sort of pesh import/export business that sounds like it will be pretty lucrative. Still no idea why Mistress Lanvi's daughter is farming information for her competition though." He finally joins in.
"Yes, I would tend to agree with... Arimar... here," Benaiah fails ever so slightly at concealing his continued disbelief at the change in front of him, [b]"That we should tell Lanvi what we have found out. We will need help in deciphering these documents, and she should be able to point us in the right direction. She should know that we know what is going on with her daughter as well, or at least part of it. We will have our own secrets to keep eventually, but this is not one of those times.
I don't understand... Can a man be redeemed like this? This is not the Arimar I've known over the years... Is it really that simple? He wonders, questions swirling in his brain.
"Arimar," Gwen begins, staring for a moment at the aasimar, clearly still held in shock at his transformation. "You had mentioned that Captain Reginald Romsky had made a friend at the party, but also that it's unlikely any use will come of it."
"Given that act," the halfling continues. "It seems as though the only information on the handmaiden we have to go on, is... one- the half-heard conversation between the handmaiden and Zakon... And, two- Malgrim's incrypted notes."
She looks slowly to the faces of all her companions, then bites her lips while continuing to think. "I personally don't think we should tell Mistress Lanvi anything of last night until we get those documents sorted out. Right now, we don't know what we've learned... We may have nothing, or we may have something... But until we can put any more pieces of this puzzle together, anything we reveal will only lead to more questions. Questions we cannot answer."
"I'm in favor of telling her, laying it all on the table, but only once we've seen the cards in our hand..."
"If we cannot break the cypher ourselves, I will leave right away this morning to hire someone... though I'd rather not involve any outsiders, if possible.
"I know it may feel hard to share information," Arimar concedes, "But that was the agreement we all made. If it was easy to do, we wouldn't need the agreement now would we? So what's the point if we don't adhere to it? How can we expect Mistress Lanvi to do the same?
"Also," Arimar adds before Gwen can respond, "Lanvi is probably best placed to break this particular cypher. She's in the information gathering business after all. Given that it involves her daughter and long-time handmaiden, it somehow seems right that we let her know what we know. She'll also be able to advise us on how to proceed."
The man steps forth and addresses the three companions, "Besides, we have other business that we need to attend to. This show of good faith will be beneficial to us in two ways: it shows Lanvi we're serious about being partners, and it gets the ramifications of whatever information we've found off our plate while we sort out the Fountain of Bethesda. It involves digging and information gathering, both of which are particular strengths of our partner, Mistress Lanvi.
"Even if we have nothing, her daughter was at that party - apparently without her mother's knowledge. That alone is worth telling. So, why don't we?" Arimar asks, directing that question more to Gwendolyn than the others.
Malgrim thinks for a moment, but nods at Arimar and Benaiah. "We agreed to be truthful; this matter might be embarrassing, but there are far worse matters that she might withold from us. Besides, it might foster some goodwill and be the expedient manner."
"Now, about the Villa..."
"We have some news there, actually," Arimar inhales deeply and casts a look over to Gwen, "One of the reasons we took Gwen on with our group was that she said she had a lead on something pertinent to our business relationship with you. Specifically, that your handmaiden - to be clear, the one who is also your daughter - has been meeting with the Versatudes and seemingly without your involvement."
Arimar waits for that to sink in a little before continuing, "Now, I'm sure you could tell us and would have told us if we came to you, but it seems clear now that it was indeed without your involvement. Regardless, we decided it would be best to gather more information before coming to you with half-baked accusations. So we did. We got in to the party, and we did our best to figure out what was going on.
"Alas, my endeavours were fruitless, but the others had more success. Care to share?" he indicates for his companions to chime in.
"You were at a party at Versade Villa ... and my Handmiden was there ... you called her my daughter?" Mistress Lanvi stutters to respond to Arimar. "It seems that we have much to discuss. First, pray tell how you know she is my daughter? It is ... was ... meant to be a secret between us. I had her young, when I was too foolish to know any better. I had sent her away. She is only recently come back to me the last few years. I had hoped that one day she and I could come to terms. We all look to our progeny to carry on our legacy.
"But Versade Villa! The Versade family is and always be diametrically opposed to me, and what I stand for. Established as a noble house in Magnimar, the look to me as a young upstart, yet I am good enough to attract..." she interrupts her speech and doubles over in a sever coughing fit. Righting herself, she spits a bloody glob into a nearby vase. "Both their attention and ire." she completes the sentence. "Forgive me, I am not sure if it is getting worse or if I cannot tolerate this wasting sickness any longer.
"Regardless, she has much to answer to me for. What is it you were doing there and what did you learn? I am most intrigued to know."
After listening to the Companions debrief her she turns to Arimar, and then Gwen, "I understand why you kept this ... this transgression of hers from me. Know I hold no ill will towards you. It is what I would have done."
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"I didn't find anything out beyond what Gwen here did, overhearing the conversation between your daughter and the Vanderale womanizer." Benaiah offers, his voice faltering just a little from all of the unrelated uncertainty around him.
Too much is changing all at once... Losing Caerador, then Keoki, and now it feels like I've lost Arimar too, I think. Actually I don't know what to think...
Fighting the urge to retreat into a shell in his mind, he speaks up again. "We found out your handmaiden's identity as your daughter because she told me. She told me this to convince me how and why you trust her completely." Benaiah emphasises the last bit. "This was before we met Gwen. Either she is working an angle to help you take the Versade family down without telling you, or she is working against you. I wouldn't rule out either possibility, as we don't know yet what we don't know. As your partner, I would caution against forcing her to answer to you just yet. Now that you know there is something going on that deserves your attention, you can give it your attention without any of your enemies, both real and uncertain, being aware that you know. You are in the position of power. Alerting your daughter to that knowledge undermines your power." He finishes, regaining some of his confidence.
"The long and short of the whole party is that Gwen and I overheard some snippets of conversation about a large amount of money that the Vanderale's seem to have coming in. My suspicion is it involves large amounts of pesh. And I have a question. What does "The Versade family specializes in entertainment" mean? Horizontal? I thought you had that market cornered. Chemical? Musical? This seems like an important piece of the puzzle that has gone over my head."
"By the way Malgrim, I got a guard to attack me and I screamed bloody murder, then blew up a hooka, all trying to create a diversion for you. Short of murdering one of the guards, which I nearly did, I'm not sure what else I could have done to help. You got out ok, so at least I didn't make it harder on you..." Benaiah says with a grin and a slap on the hobgoblin's shoulder.
"Thank you, Benaiah," Arimar smiles genuinely at his friend's interpretation of the situation, "And Mistress, we did not keep the transgression from you for long, just long enough to ascertain that it was indeed a transgression. Openness between us is part of our new business arrangement, and we intend to uphold our end of the bargain on that.
"I hope you appreciate us looking out for you," Arimar adds, "It was not without personal risk. I cannot be sure, but I do not think we will be attempting any further undercover operations like this again any time soon. We showed some aptitude for it, but much could have gone wrong. I think brute force or negotiation might be more suited to our talents."
The burly paladin leaves it at that, waiting for Gwen and Malgrim to share their pieces.