"We greatly appreciate your help Aemon and I am glad to have you with us. I don't deny you have merit in your arguments, but to be honest we do not know if we can trust the Graycloaks anymore than anyone else in this city. Until we know more about who our enemies are we would do best to err on the side of caution despite the mess we have already made." Zeph smiles ruefully.
Indeed, Kierana agrees with Zeph. The Greycloaks were the ones harassing Korihor in the first place, when we met yesterday. As you've said yourself, we're not exactly their favorite people right now. They'd arrest us on sight and ask questions later, especially if they recognized Korihor as being both at the Nymph and at the protest.
As for reason, Pyrrha, why we should trust Twist and look into the Disciple - well, as he said, his information is the best lead we have right now. I certainly can't recall anything remarkable about the assailants at the farm, and as for dwarves with guns, it's Absalom. A vampire-kin could be walking around with an imp growing out of his shoulder and wings and tentacles growing from his back and no one would bat an eye.
Kierana leans closer to Pyrrha and whispers. I mislike trusting him as much as you do. If we had any other options, believe me, I'd take them. But at least he seems to know something, even if he's not keen on sharing precisely what that is. And we're stuck now, regardless - odds are the assassins are going to keep coming whether we learn anything else or not. At least the others here are in the same frying pan as you.
"That's true." Korihor says, sighing. "Look, we don't know who these Last Disciple folks are, or whether or not they mean any of us harm. We are only assuming everything so far. But we do know one thing -"
Korihor stands, and slowly walks towards Ahto and Twist. "Your 'employer'. Whoever they are, they are interested in...in me, and therefore in all of us. They seemed to know others want me as well. Whether it's connected to the Last Disciple or to a wet sop towel at the Pleasure Palace, we know one thing: your employer has information. That's where we need to go. Ahto, who were you working for?"
Aemon gives Twist a calculating look.
"That's right. You were the only one who knew anything about Korihor's involvement before the attacks. Korihor is correct, we should be going to your contacts for information, not hunting down old priests. In fact," he says, his eyes narrowing, "Why are you so interested in pointing us towards the Disciple at all? Is there something else you're not telling us?"
"Hiding something? Really?" Twist backs up, his posture more defensive. "You DO all remember we were just ambushed, don't you? By mercenaries, trying to kill us?" He straightens up to his full height again, clearly a bit agitated. "You still think I have something to do with this, then? I'm the reason that SHE--" he gestures angrily with a finger towards Korihor, "--isn't locked up in some dark basement and the rest of you aren't six feet under." His face is twisted into a scowl now, predatory teeth bared towards the party. "Have you forgotten I warned you about the kidnappers? Tried to fight them off?"
After having spent a few minutes subtly examining Twist's aura, a myriad of colors finally spills into view over the Tiefling. While confusing for a moment, the roiling field of blood red surrounding the tiefling clearly tells you he's livid. After a moment of watching, small splotches of a sickly, oily green roil around within his aura as well, so it seems your thoughts may be correct; the tiefling is hiding something. However, you also note you never see even a hint of the black that would imply Twist has malicious intents for you or the rest of the group.
"And how did they know where we were? Were we followed to the pub, and then after to the farm? But they conveniently decided to let us rest the whole night? Or did someone get a message off, letting them know where we - where I was?"
Korihor stops, her eyes far away as she thinks back. "You told Ahto to...be ready to fight or run when those two arrived. And we just attacked them. You had us remove your competition. You created a straw man, and we burned it to the ground for you."
Pyrrha has a sly smile on her face still amused from Korhior's comment and eager to press Twist again about his agenda's and secrets, "Again just because you stood up to those thugs doesn't mean you're on our side. You could just tell us who you are working for and about what it is you're trying to accomplish Twist. Though as much deflecting and stalling as you're putting up it gets harder and harder to trust that you're capable of anything but misleading and misdirection."
Did 22 int check allow Pyrrha to remember the guys she faced down in the alley yesterday?
"No, I CAN'T! If I COULD, I would have done it by now!" Twist seems almost more exasperated at this point than angry, but his hands still appear to be balled into fists. "If you all would listen, you might have caught that by now!" He backs up again, but doesn't appear to be heading towards the door. "I've told you as much as I can. Are you listening to me? As much as I can." Twist's face twitches just slightly, but soon the baring of teeth returns.
"You've told us nothing. Not who your benefactor is, or why you want us to go after the Last Disciple, or who's chasing us. Name one thing you've told us."
"I've told you that things aren't as they seem. I've confirmed suspicions that your attempted arrest wasn't what it seemed. And I've been trying to tell you that there's a reason I--" Twist stops mid sentence, with a hint of pain on his face. "My... my lips are sealed."
Aemon's eyes have been vaguely unfocused since Twist's outburst, as if he were looking through the tiefling rather than at him. Now his eyes focus again, and he draws a rough breath.
"Stop," he says, putting a hand to his head and closing his eyes in a grimace. "Pyrrha, Korihor, wait. We all need to calm down. There's more going on that he's saying, but he's being honest when he says that he's on our side and that he'd do more if he could. And he's frightened, a lot more frightened than he's letting on. If not trust, I think we can at least give him the benefit of the doubt. For now."
He looks around at the rest of the gruop. "But I still think the Last Disciple isn't our best lead, at the moment. Does anyone remember anything about the men who attacked at the bar? Or, ghoulish as it may sound to ask, did any of you take anything from any of attackers? A weapon, a purse, something from a pocket?"
Korihor smiles. "I've a few cuts on my mouth.
"I faced down those goons in the alley before freeing Korihor with a grease spell. I looked them square in the eyes before they decided we were too much trouble for whatever they were getting out of it. I distinctly remember them, especially that dwarf. Twist isn't our best lead. He's obviously been pressed into whatever is going on and his agenda is probably for fear of death or worse for failing, so we can either track down this dwarf with a preference for gunpowder or we can let Twist's master pull the strings. Obviously you know I disfavor the puppet overlord option."
Pyrrha stands from the wall to speak address Aemon, "As to the something from our attackers, I pulled the gear off those goons in the woods earlier this morning if that helps, but all the kidnappers from yesterday escaped. I didn't even get the chance to snag more than Korihor."
"Which I'm thankful for."
Aemon holds out a hand to Pyrrha. "May I? Anything will do."
"Here is their missive and here is one of their longswords." Pyrrha says walking over to Aemon and handing him one of the bandits sheathed long swords and the note she found which reads
'Capture Korihor, kill the rest.'
"Odd that they didn't need a description of Korihor or a picture. Though simply saying she's the one that doesn't know how to fight was probably enough."
"Hey!" Korihor says indignently. When everyone looks at her pointedly without saying a word, she shyly mumbles, "I can fight a litt- shut up, you guys."
Zeph watches intently as the others debate their course of action. It definitely seems Twist is having his arm... twisted. I know I am biased in wanting to learn more of the Last Disciple, so perhaps I should listen to the judgement of the others on this. While Aemon, Korihor and Pyrrha discuss the men who attacked them Zeph sidles over to Twist with a sudden feeling of empathy, "Twist, can you tell me... Will your own person come to harm if we do not go in the direction you seem compelled to lead us? Or is there simply things which you cannot tell us?"
Aemon accepts the sword and note. "Excellent, these should do nicely. I'll need a few minutes." He walks into his bedroom, sits on the bed, and closes his eyes, resting the sword across his knees and holding the note in his other hand.
"It's not that, I..." Twist starts shaking his head, backing away from Zeph as he steps forward. "I can't... I'm doing the best I can. It's not who I'm working for who you all need to worry about, it's who--" Twist stops mid-sentence yet again, stumbling back as he moves towards the wall, leaning on it heavily. "My lips are sealed," he repeats, clearly unable to say much more on the matter.
"What does that mean? You say it like...a ritual, or something."
Zeph grimaces at Twist's obvious discomfort, "I won't ask again. I am starting to like you Twist, so I am going to trust that you are genuine in your wish to help us, whether you are ensorcelled or not. Still, if there is some way we can unseal your lips it would be nice to hear the full story one day."
"What does it mean?" Twist says, grinning despite his obvious lack of cheer. "Well, if I could tell you that it wouldn't be a very good--" yet again, the tiefling stops mid-sentence. "My lips... are sealed," he says once more, now leaning with his back against the wall. The words are forced through gritted teeth, but still manage to have almost the same inflection as they did previously.
"Even if I knew how I couldn't tell you, because well... you know." Although it looks like Twist is feeling better, he still starts to slide down the wall of Aemon's apartment, coming to a rest sitting against the wall on the floor. "I've been trying to help you piece it together, but every time I get too close I--" Twist sighs, then licks his lips. "My lips are sealed."
"Should we get him drunk?" Korihor says to no one in particular, eyeing the bottle of fire-brandy. "That tends to loosen lips..."
Kierana merely watches as her companions argue, one hand resting on Acharn's thorax. This bickering accomplishes nothing...but I admit, I mislike dancing on marionette strings as much as the others, and it appears our suspected puppet master dances in motley beside us, with his tongue tied as it is. Aemon seems to think the sword and missive will give some clues; I hope he's correct, though it all seems fairly nondescript to me. Even the slightest bit of information to go on would be better than this aimless waiting.
Let him be, she finally speaks out at his obvious distress. Clearly something holds his tongue; what profit is there in wearing on him further or rendering him insensate? We need all the allies we can get - there's no sense in wringing him for information so hard he becomes useless to us.
"After the day I've had..." Korihor says, walking over and pouring another splash of fire-brandy, and then adding a little more after eyeing it, "...insensate, is the plan." She drinks, tilting her head back, only coughing at the very end. Her eyes are watery as she looks at Twist. "Can I pour you one? Maybe get you a pen to write your secret with? Or are your fingers sealed as well?"
"I haven't tried it, but I doubt it'd work. He--" Twist groans, his head in is hands. "My lips are sealed," he says again. After looking at the glass in Korihor's hand for a moment, he nods. "Pour me a glass. Might help the headache."
Korihor pours two more glasses, and brings one to Twist. She holds hers up to him. "Cheers. If this isn't the gate key to your secret, perhaps Pyrrha will tear your arms off." She drinks hers in one again.
Do you not understand we are in potentially mortal danger? We need our wits about us...oh, f%~# it. A glass for me too. I may as well drink and be merry, if I'll be saddled with inebriated fools in the confrontations to come regardless.
Korihor smiles at Kierana. "I've been in...some form...of mortal danger most of my life. My family kicked me out because I was a freak. I have been on two ships that sank at sea. One was berthed at the dock! I survived an inn being blown out of existence, along with half the block around it, unscathed, along with the bed I was still asleep in. I don't know magic, and yet everywhere I go, people around me die by strange means. So-" she raises her glass, "-I've learned ways of coping."
Kierana drains her drink in one go as well, setting the glass down with a slight flourish. Her serious manner doesn't go away, but she does seem to relax some, if only slightly. It's clear you have some sort of power in you, if such strange things keep happening around you. Have you ever tried to consciously make use of it? Even just to do something simple?
She picks up the glass again and chants a few words, her syllables only slightly thickened by the drink. An intricate swirling pattern of light emerges on the glass's walls, throwing new shadows around the room. Even something as simple as making an object light up. Perhaps if you sought to understand this power more, it wouldn't cause such accidents.
"No, I've not." she says, her eyes widening in awe. "My parents...I was raised knowing that this- she looks at her hands, "-was bad. Evil. A corruption. When my...mark...started showing up, they kicked me out." She looks at Kierana's glass longingly. "That is amazing."
Zeph watches Kierana and Korihor discuss abilites and finds himself giving his own display, "I know my own power isn't as formulaic. I just have to will it into happening." As he speaks he causes a breeze to whip through Korihor's hair momentarily with a gesture of his fingers.
Kierana scoffs at Korihor's reply. Your parents were narrow-minded fools. There's nothing inherently evil about magic, any more than a gift for cooking or the ability to sing; else, why would the benevolent gods grant their most devout followers magical ability?
Good and evil lie in your choices, not the things you can't control. If you set your axe carefully and securely on a shelf and an earthquake throws it onto someone, are you then a murderer? Of course not; no one would claim you were. But set it precariously above a walking path and more culpability lies with you - that's why you must tame your power.
Do you tame a beast of burden by locking it in a stall and neglecting it? No, neglect will only make it wilder, more dangerous. Neither do you simply hop on its back, cling tight, and hope for the best. You break it to a harness, set it to training exercises, teach it to carry or pull. That's what you have to do - harness your power, make it bend to your will. Else it will only continue to grow wilder and more dangerous.
"Well, my parents were very, very religious. And what Priest's do isn't magic...it's miracle." Korihor smiles at Zeph as her hair moves. "I almost wish this Last Disciple were the genuine artifact...but I'm terrified that he might be."
Many others wish the same - or at least, the drop in my business as of late would suggest so. For some reason, it's always chastity these fanatics advocate first. Kierana smiles, though there's a slightly frustrated look behind it. Aroden's death hit many hard - being as he was one of humanity's own, I suppose. But other humans have ascended to godhood, and more recently, too. I wonder why it is that Cayden Cailean or Irori don't inspire the same fervor you see from the former Arodenites?
Aemon steps out from the bedroom, leaning heavily against the doorpost. He seems dizzy and unfocused.
"Well, Sister Kierana," he says, his voice a little weak, "there are many reasons, I think. Aroden was more than human, even before his apotheosis. He was the Last Azlanti, the last of the greatest civilization in the history of Golarion. He drew the Starstone from the depths of seas, and forged a city with nothing but the strength of his will. Without him, there would be no Cayden Cailean, no Inerhitor. Korihor, my dear, will you pour me a cup, please?"
He settles himself into a chair before continuing.
"But I think the most powerful reason is that he made a promise. He promised an end to wars, an age of magnificent prosperity and enlightenment. The other gods squabble and fight and vie for the hearts of mortals, but Aroden was going to do something about the state of the world. That's why it was so devastating when he disappeared, and why his return holds so much excitement."
He pauses, cocking his head. "When he disappeared . . . Korihor, what year did you tell me your grandmother was born?"
"4606." Korihor pours a small glass of fire-brandy and hands it to Aemon. "Why? What's my Grummum got to do with this?"
4606...wasn't that the year he disappeared? The Last Azlanti, I mean. If the stories are true, there were storms for weeks, on the cusp of his predicted return.
Aemon's eyebrows raise in surprise. "That's right. It's an interesting coincidence, to be sure."
He tosses back the brandy, grimacing slightly.
"But probably not relevant to our present situation. If you don't mind, Korihor, I think there's a bottle of absinthe on the bottom shelf."
He holds out his cup again, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"Curious, indeed . . ."
Indeed. Kierana's cup joins Aemon's in waiting expectantly for a refill. Korihor...are you the first in your family to show signs of magic? They say this sort of power runs through the blood.
Korihor looks shocked at Kierana's words. "Why would you...my mum used to tell me how Grummum Genna brought in the hurricane of the century when she was born. How did you know that?" She takes Aemon's cup absently, but doesn't seem to notice she's holding it.
"I see we're settling on the third option then, getting drunk and doing nothing."
"Well I'm broke and can't afford a bed, and I imagine we won't be putting more mums in danger so I'm going to fence this crap from the thugs."
Pyrrha gathers her things from Aemon and prepares to leave.
As I said, it's common for your kind of innate ability to be passed down in families. I was merely curious; you seem to be a key piece in this puzzle, so I would understand as much as I can. Kierana leans back in her chair, pensively and only a tiny bit unsteadily. There are other stories about the source of those storms, you know.
It does seem curious that your grandmother, born in the shadow of a storm that supposedly served as a god's death shroud, developed magical talent; and now you, possibly the inheritor of her talent, are being suddenly pursued by kidnappers while a disciple of that same purportedly deceased god gains divine powers that grow stronger by the day? As Aemon said, likely a coincidence, and not relevant to our current predicament at all, but it is indeed curious.
At Pyrrha's interjection, Kierana turns to Aemon. She's right - time is pressing onward, and we need more to go forward with. Were you successful in finding out anything more about the men who attacked us?
Aemon shrugs, spreading his hands. "I'm not certain yet. This isn't really an exact science. I get impressions--feelings, mostly, sometimes a sound, rarely a vision. A sword doesn't see the world the same way you or I do, and I might not recognize who wrote that note unless I shook her hand and felt what the note felt. I don't have anything right now, but I'll mention if something comes together."
He eyes Pyrrha. "If you must go out, young lady, it would be foolish to go alone. There are at least two groups in the city watching for all of you. One would kill you, the other just arrest you."
Twist takes the cup, downing it quickly. "I won't be much help to you all anyway, at this point. But I'll do some poking around on my own, try a different angle than whatever you go after." He exhales heavily, still leaning against the wall. "So you're going after those thugs, then? Is that the plan? If so, I might try to learn some more about this old priest the Disciple's got following him around."
"How homicidally angry I'll be when Twist runs off to run down quote "leads" end quote and everything we've talked about turns up more dead ends. What an unbelievable coincidence that will be. Wouldn't that be a shame Twist? We would be once again forced to follow your random details spoon fed to us." Pyrrha says nearing the door.
Talking over her shoulder at Aemon, "I am neither young by human standards or so foolish. Though I presume you are not volunteering with so many strangers in your home with a penchant for your spirits. So perhaps I am a fool."
"Unless someone wants to join me, Twist, don't bother asking where I'm going, because," She pauses for dramatic effect, "My lips are sealed." Pyrra eyes Twist one final time before she heads out. Though she waits to see if Twist picks up on the unsubtle hint that she wanted him to come with her.
"I'll be heading out, then," Twist says, hauling himself off the floor. "I'd much rather sleep off this ache in my own bed than on a stranger's floor--hasn't been long enough since the last time I did that." After a moment, he follows Pyrrha out the door."If you decide to track down those thugs, meet me tomorrow in front of the Pleasure Salon. If I find anything myself, I'll fill you in." With that, the door slams behind him as he follows Pyrrha out the door, leaving the party to decide their next course of action.
"Well? What did you want?" he asks after he clear the doorway, asking Pyrrha. "Or did you just plan to put me out of my misery once we left the apartment?" He laughs for a moment, but starts coughing a moment later with a visible look of pain on his face. "Nice of you to wait. The man really does seem to detest blood on his furniture."