As the adrenaline of your flight fades, the undine and the ifrit both stagger, and fall to their knees and clutch their abdomens. The undine is bleeding from her right side, and the ifrit is bleeding from his left side.
With surprising alacrity, one of the ifrit privates kneels down between the two. He dumps an entire water skin onto the undine's stomach. He casts a simple spark to ignite some dry rags, pressing them against the ifrit. After a moment, their breathing stabilizes. Though they still appear exhausted, they are no longer bleeding out.
Nodding, Odebie falls backwards into the earth and digs in a general "away from here" direction.
Byron is still lost in thought, muttering about arcane wards and needing to research planar boundaries.
On the way to the Watch, Dove cups his hands and murmurs into them. With a motion like he is releasing a bird, he spreads his hands out and a faintly blue breeze blows ahead of you, in the direction of the Watch.
"I have sent a brief missive regarding what has transpired to the Captain. I have no doubt our redoubtable Captain will talk with the other Watches and assemble a more...sizable response to this threat."
The ifrit and undine, who are holding hands and huddling against the cold, look completely lost in your presence. The ifrit speaks, with a typical Slums accent, "Er, beggin' yers pardon, but are we under arrest? I swear we wasn't with them things! We was just tryin' to get a few things from our home - we saw the steam disappear and knew it was time to get."
At the Watch, Dove thanks the four of you distractedly, and goes to find the Captain. "There is much to prepare. I trust you to deal with the civilians and the privates as you see fit, Sergeant."
Soon after you arrive, Mahkáh, Mató, and Matóskah all come through the door with a few books each. Unfortunately, they were unable to convince any priests to come with them - they were met with skepticism when they mentioned Inquisitor Ky La, especially after mispronouncing it the first time (Kee Ba).
Even with a priest's reluctant help, they were unable to find anything on the more complicated subjects: the origin of the steam, any history of King Fret, or where the complex under the statue came from. However, they found a book on ancient creatures of the planes, and there is some useful information on mephits.
DR 5/magic
Immune fire
Weaknesses vulnerability to cold
Relatively low intelligence, more along the lines of cunning animals
Oddly, no mention of marked mephits, like the one you saw earlier.
The three oread privates look chagrined, aware they have not fulfilled all of Odebie's requests for information. Glancing at one another, they appear to be waiting for a reprimand or dismissal.
"No no, you can go. Wait a few days, and you should be able to go back into the slums." Exhausted, Odebie takes the books from the privates with nary a grunt and, in the break-room, uses them as a pillow as he collapses into sleep.
Byron hurries back to his lab, eager to tell Eldon of the results of the unexpected test. The present danger from weak planar boundaries distracts him, however, and his thoughts soon turn to how alchemy could help with this problem.
Osric works in the library until he's too tired to make any more progress, then goes home and crashes into his bed.
Power. What can generate that much power? Volcano certainly does, but how do we channel and control it? Perhaps we lure in and enslave another extra-dimensional being.
Osric, even battered and drained, your mind and eyes remain unceasingly active. You play a game of 'find the Temple spy' among the snow-covered crowds. You rummage through the dusty filing cabinets of your brain, searching for any possible answers to the problems that plague the city. You shake your head, clearing it of cobwebs. Snow that has accumulated on your head showers down onto your face and shoulders.
You see a curtain twitch on the first floor of your boardinghouse as you approach. You cautiously enter, but no one is around. Maybe it was just the draft that blows through cracks in the wall on these cold winter days. You help yourself to a ladle of a spicy vegetable soup that Mrs. Cook on the third floor has left in a cauldron above the fireplace. Your bones creak and your neck aches as you settle in for bed.
Fi, you take roads which are becoming very familiar, with your frequent trips to the Watch. The Dims' Main Street is wide and mostly well-tended, save for the occasional cauldhole or missing cobblestone.
Without realizing how tense you were, you let out a breath once you are past the Dims and the Temple. For better or worse, you were born and bred in the Mansions, and a long day spent with steam monsters and mad inquisitors leaves you eager to sleep in your own bed.
Enzo and Karina are both reading books in the study, a warm fire crackling in the hearth. They are sitting on separate sofas, and both rise to greet you with open arms. The three of you embrace; any awkwardness from Karina not being blood-related has been erased from the haunting experiences you have all shared. From the weary look on your face, they know not to pester you with questions. After some cold--but still tasty--turkey and potato leftovers, you gratefully walk up the grand stairs to bed.
Odebie, though your body is ready for sleep, it takes several minutes for your mind to slow down amidst whirling thoughts of enslaved efreets, sylph genocide, invading mephits, bizarre talking staves, and the lieutenant losing his calm. The last thing you hear before sleep is Matóskah, whispering with one of his brothers, "I bet he could smash a 'spawn flat with his hammer..."
Byron, you trudge back to your house/lab in the snow. After such a demanding day, your legs are aching with weariness and cold as you veer around yet another cart whose wheels are mired in the freezing slush. The curses of adults and the delighted cries of children mingle together until it is simply white noise as you wrap yourself in your private thoughts. Preoccupied, you nearly run into your own door - your feet have taken you home of their own accord.
Eldon questions you eagerly about the marble. For once, you are at a loss for words - although you share the success, you begin repeating yourself as your eyes droop. Resigned to sleep, you quiet your rumbling belly with stale ashbread and water. Eldon has a few choice names for you as you drag your feet to bed without answering all his questions, but it is nothing you have not heard from him before. The familiar chemical smells and puff, puff of ongoing experiments lull you to sleep.
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Fi spends the morning around the house, trying to get her head straight... It seems crass to cash in on her growing reputation, but wasn't that the point?
Outside of Karina and Enzo she'd been busy with the watch and the others, she'd lost track of her normal life a little.
She discusses last nights events and answers what questions she can o Karina and Enzo over breakfast, before making her excuses and heading down to the music shop. See if Elfie still wants to see her after being ignored for a few weeks now...
Maybe go see Isabella afterwards, though last time they spoke was certainly uncomfortable.
Osric wakes up grateful for the dreamless, restful night. He takes some time to prepare his extracts in solitude, eating some cold soup and tinkering with this and that as his mind mulls the more difficult problems.
Odebie, you hardly notice what is on your chipped earthenware plate as you shovel the first few handfuls into your mouth. Your teeth tell you there is certainly some standard orean fare--probably just cheap granite from the north--but you managed to grab some meat and eggs, too. After a few minutes, you take a deep breath and sit back. You can feel your body replenishing the stores you taxed so heavily yesterday.
Now that you are sated and mostly awake, you notice a tension in the mess hall. The older guards are grim, while the younger privates talk in excited whispers while sharpening their weapons and polishing their armor. You hear the word 'mephit' and 'steam' interspersed through most of the conversations.
---
Osric, though you rise early, you find your landlord Pilgar already at the communal table. The oread is around your age, perhaps slightly older or younger. He is smaller and thinner than most oread males, but there is no mistaking his deep chestnut hair and skin for any other race.
Pilgar's hands are slightly stained with ink as leafs through several broadsheets scattered on the table. As usual, he has publications from all corners of the city. Without looking up, he says, "Mornin, Osric. Still findin' lost kittens and stolen purses?" He smiles, showing no ill will at the gentle prod.
---
Byron, you awake to Eldon's questions, as if he never stopped asking them while you were asleep. "So the spawn was gone, jest like that? Hew much mar o' that solution ya got? H'when are we makin' mar? Come on bird, let's show the damn hot-heads in this tewn what we can dew!"
---
Fi, Enzo and Karina listen, and keep the questions to a minimum. They are slowly becoming more independent as they pick up the pieces of their shattered lives, and are relying on you less from day to day. The hugs they give you on the way out still carry the strength of lingering desperation, however. The wounds are closing, but not fully healed.
As you stroll down to the Shops, you cannot help but notice the absence of steam to the east. You can now see more of the Dims than you ever could--or, frankly, wanted to--before.
The Canary's Whistle, with its cheery yellow paint, thankfully distracts you from such thoughts. As you enter, the top of the door sets off a series of wind chimes, one after another. Elfie's high, melodious voice calls from the back of the stor, "Be right with you!" You walk down an aisle of stringed instruments from southern undine villages, and catch a glimpse of the sylph between two sitars.
Elfie's dark, shoulder-length hair is pulled back in a ponytail. Straight-cut bangs rest upon her pale-gold forehead. She is looking down at a brass horn, cleaning the valves one at a time. Her hands move with the casual skill of experience. She has not seemed to notice you yet.
Fi smiles, after the last few days, this all seemed refreshingly normal. "Don't rush on my account." she calls back her fingers brushing the instruments, taking in the scents and sounds of the shop.
She watches Elfie work, "After all, I've left you waiting a long time. How have you been Elfie" she smiles warmly at her childhood friend.
Osric smirks at his ribbing. "Sometimes you wish you could just put the kitten back, eh?" He gestures to all the papers lying around.
"Sure is interesting weather we're having. What's the word on the street?"
"Fee-fi-fo-fum!" Elfie cries, using your old childhood nickname. She carefully sets the valve down on a soft cloth, then rushes over to you, not heeding your earlier words. She gives you a warm hug, then looks at your shoulder. "Oops - sorry! Got a little valve oil on you." She takes a towel tucked into her apron and gently rubs the stain away.
She takes a step back. "Fee-fi, it's been forever! You're," she throws her hands up in bewilderment, "a big hero now, right? I'm so glad to see you!" Her genuine smile reaches nearly ear to ear, her mouth slightly larger than the rest of her delicate features.
---
Pilgar's smile falters somewhat. Stretching his lips flatly in consternation, he says, "Nothing good. Ancient monsters, mad sylphs, burning neighborhoods, even stories about walking dead and darkspawn." He quirks an eyebrow. "And the Coal of the Mansions has a penchant for women's underwear."
He shakes his head. "Sounds like fey tales, or drunken exaggerations. And yet," he gestures toward the southern window, "the steam is gone. Strange times, Osric. Strange times. I'm half-convinced to sell it all and head back to Forest. Maybe we can split a coach and you can get off at Light."
"Not a bad idea, Pilgar. Tempting, but I cannot. Those cats won't find themselves, will they?"
Osric takes a few bites of breakfast, feigning disinterest, before digging deeper. "Walking dead, you say? I'd discount it as drunken fever dreams if not for everything else happening. Where were these dead allegedly walking around?"
He slides the paper over to you and taps the article. "See for yourself! Right under the Temple's nose, right in the courtyards, elens of all stripes claiming some milk-eyed undine, no shoes, smelling like a corpse, was running around clear as bright."
He sighs. "Who knows. With all the crazy things that are occurring, it's just as likely they're making things up to sell even more papers. Anything goes, eh?"
He's disappointed it's the one he already knew about rather than a sign of the others, but still, good to know this is public information now.
"Huh. Well I'll be a birdie's cloaca. That's quite the juicy story! What about the darkspawn? That must be the normal sensationalism in these rags. If there were really darkspawn in Hearth, there would be mass panic."
Fi blushes at the praise and grins back at her, "Sorry, I know it's been a while. I'm not sure 'Big Hero' really applies, I just find myself caught up in things and try and keep on the right side of it."
She looks her up and down, "You look well," she raises an eyebrow "anyone I should be jealous of?" her smile turns a little rueful as she falls back on her jokey flirting to hide the crush she felt for her friend.
Fi, to your eye Elfie seems unaware of your embarrassment. She looks down, smiling and blushing a bit. "Fi, nothing has changed in the last few weeks." She sighs. "Or months. Sylph guys in this town are too busy playing with their beakers, and ifrits won't give me the time of day. And..." She shakes her head.
She looks back up at you. "Anyway, are you here for business, or pleasure? Anything that needs tuning?" Her emphasis on the last word could have just been your imagination.
---
Osric, something in your tone seems to catch Pilgar's attention. His brow wrinkles for but a moment, then clears. He stands up. "Well, I've fed my belly and polluted my mind, so I'm off to the exchanges." He dons a heavy coat and a plain workman's cap. He tips the cap to you and leaves the boardinghouse.
---
Odebie, Lieutenant Dove sits down next to you. On his plate are three long pieces of some thin, green vegetable you cannot quite identify. "Good bright, Sergeant. This is by no means an order, though it is, technically speaking, a request from a commanding officer. Would you consider accompanying me to the meeting of the Captains this morning? Each Captain is allowed one lieutenant and one sergeant."
Odebie paused his shoveling. "Of course sir. When is it?"
Now seems like as good time as any to practice my new sense motive skills.
After Pilgar leaves, Osric will spend a few moments looking through the papers to see if there's anything else of interest recorded within them.
The most important puzzle right now is how to power another ward, but I have nothing to go on. Perhaps pulling a different thread will yield greater results. What does "LN" really mean? I'll need a book on Geni to make progress. I need to talk to Ky La this morning as well, so perhaps that's the best place to start.
Satisfied with his breakfast, Osric will head up to the temple to meet with the inquisitor.
Odebie, Dove smiles. "You are in luck, dear sergeant! It will begin presently. Perform any necessaries - I will meet you at the door in five minutes, and off to the Commandant's we shall perambulate."
---
Osric, Pilgar has said nothing untrue, or misleading - he is very likely off to the exchanges. The look he gave you was, in truth, due to Pilgar detecting some tone in your voice--perhaps too casual?--about the darkspawn. He did not seem suspicious, just curious for a moment.
"It's always a pleasure to be here, Elfie. And while I may dabble a little, you know I'm all about the song really." her grin turns a little mischievious "Men are over-rated anyway, my last paramour turned out to be possesed by an ancient spirit who mistook me for his long dead lover and tried to bring down the city. So... at least you avoided that." it felt good to trivialise the situation. draw a curtain over it's grislier aspects.
"My brother and I have made peace somewhat, so our house is no longer a battlefield. You should come over some time, my door is always open to you."
Fi, Elfie purses her lips in thought. "Well, I've got a few orders coming in soon that are going to keep me busy..." She thinks for a moment. Her face brightens. "Oh! What about tonight? The bamboo for the balafons won't come until tomorrow at the earliest, so I'm free if you are." Her eyes, somewhere between toffee and caramel, give you a hopeful look.
---
---
Byron, you give a few uncharacteristically short answers to Eldon. Your attention is far away, flitting into the realm of planar boundaries and fiery monsters. Eldon vehemently extracts a promise from you to talk more upon your return. "Jes' harry back bird, Oi ain't gettin' any yunger!"
Byron meets Osric outside the boardinghouse, fortunately arriving before the investigator went to the Temple by himself. Osric shares what he learned at the Temple library with Byron.
--The lesser effect of the wards is to defend against physical invaders. The Temple could activate these wards to incinerate attacking armies, etc. This is a lesser concern, as Hearth has not been physically attacked in generations.
--The greater effect of the wards was to prevent teleportation from other places in the Land, and to prevent shifting in from other planes. Since Hearth is a place of great power from the presence of Volcano, River, and (up until recently) the Steam, it is reasonable to assume that the fabric between planes is weaker here. Without the wards, this could spell trouble. You have already seen the presence of mephits, but as mentioned earlier mephits can slip between the cracks much more easily than other beings.
--With the proper expertise (inquisitors, priests, magi) restoring the wards would be theoretically possible. You don't have the exact details yet, but the outline of such preparations is beginning to take shape in your mind.
The main issue is that of power. There is no longer an ancient efreeti king underneath Hearth to act as a power source for these spells. You would need to come up with a suitable long-term power source for these wards.
The same greasy sylph that Osric has met before approaches you on the sixth tier of the Temple. His dark, slicked back hair looks wet and shiny. Though he is thin like all sylphs, his face still manages to have jowls and a sagging chin. He is dressed in an awkward combination of a gray robe that is too short for him, a pair of thick wool pants, and a vest that appears to have been salvaged from a dock worker. "Volcano's blessing to both of you. Come this way." He makes the blessing sound more like an insult.
After a few twists and turns through gleaming black hallways, you come to a polished wooden door. "Wait here." He goes in, closing the door behind him. Several minutes go by. Finally, the sylph opens the door and motions the two of you in.
Ky La is sitting at his large desk, humming loudly while scratching some message on a piece of parchment. He signs it with a flourish. To the sylph, he says, "Be a good lad and deliver this." He negligently slides the rolled up parchment toward him.
Without waiting for a response, he smiles at the two of you. He gestures magnanimously to the stiff wooden chairs before him. "Please, please, sit!" His magnified eyes are slightly red, perhaps from lack of sleep. The door closes quietly as the sylph departs.
The inquisitor clasps his hands together upon the smooth surface of the desk. "Now, you find me loathsome, both personally and on some cosmic or moral scale. And yet, you are here; you want something. It would be refreshing to hear you plainly state what you want, and what you will give in exchange."
Odebie, on your way to north to the Commandant's Barracks, Dove remains silent for several minutes. There is an awkward tension as you debate whether or not to ask the lieutenant about his heated argument with Inquisitor Ky La yesterday. Before you have a chance to do so, he says, "A commendable subterranean maneuver you employed yesterday, Sergeant, rescuing those civilians. I must inquire, though - what was the nature of that large...branch? at which you were staring so fiercely? What were your intentions in leaving it embedded in the ground?"
Odebie pauses, thinking. "I don't know - we found it in the efreet's chambers. I have my suspicions though. You are familiar with my people's burial practices?"
Fiordelise blinks her breath catching in her throat, she hadn't expected tonight.
"Of course, another friend - Karina may be there, her sister died in all the, I don't want to push her away. That won't be a problem will it? And my brother of course, he goes out a lot less than he used to."
Osric's eyebrows shoot up in surprise at Ky La's bluntness. "Your grace, you are manipulative, meticulous, and ruthless in your dealing, but as far as I can tell, everything you've done has been in service to the continued survival of Hearth rather than selfish ambition. I don't find you any more particularly loathsome than the rest of this institution. While I would prefer to attempt other tactics before resorting to mutilation, I can concede that it may be necessary at times. Likewise, control of information is one of the most powerful assets at your disposal, which is what brings me here this morning."
He takes a breath as he gets to the point, as requested. "We did a monumentally historic thing yesterday, and there are going to be consequences if we do not work quickly. I would like access to the texts written in Geni. If we're going to find a suitable replacement power source for the wards, then I need to understand the precise nature of this "LN" being. Alchemical meddling will only get me so far. I need to discern the thought processes associated with the language. Furthermore, if there are any scholars puttering around here with an expertise in the extra-planar, I would like to be able to compare notes with them."
Odebie, Dove nods. "Of course. One cannot work a stone's throw away from your aptly-named residence and remain unaware of orean customs." Dove tilts his head. "Are you implying, then, that this is a grave-tree of some vintage or another?"
---
Fi, Elfie arches an eyebrow. "Karina v'Ricci? The one with the house I can practically see from here? I guess I had heard something bad happening to that family..." She flashes a smile. "It's, umm, nice of you to be kind to her! The more the merrier, right? Does 'venny sound okay for me to come over?"
---
Osric, the inquisitor gives you a paternalistic smile. "All well and good dear boy, and I am positively agog at your flattery. You answered part of my question - the things you want. However, you failed to mention," dropping his smile, he turns to Byron, "what you are willing to give."
"With all due respect, your grace, what I'm offering is assistance in cleaning up the mess that was made under your direct supervision. One of them, anyway. I am here to serve, as I see it is in the best interest of Hearth that I do so. If you choose not to cooperate, I will act on my own as I see fit with my limited information. Perhaps the mephits would be willing to negotiate."
"Oh, by the way, one of your other messes has leaked out into the public, and it wasn't me. There is talk of darkspawn in Hearth, and it didn't come from me. Perhaps that foolish girl is trying to make good on my bluff."
Ky La continues looking at Byron, the shadow of a smile on his face.
"The very same, though I try not to talk about her family too much. 'venny is fine." she smiles and gives Elfie another hug, "If I'm seeing you tonight I'll leave you to your work. As much as I would love to spend more time catching up, we need to leave something to talk about tonight."
After saying goodbyes Fi heads over to the Tareasca residence, see if she can try and patch things over with Isabelle a little.
Byron opens his mouth, pauses, and then closes it again. He frowns for a moment, thinking something over, then finally speaks.
"Is this what you want?" He pulls out the sample of white obsidian.
Byron, Ky La grins, showing artificial-looking white teeth. "That would be a wonderful start. And perhaps we can discuss the particulars of you training a few of our Temple potion-makers in the art of these lovely things."
He turns back to Osric. "You are not a scholar, Osric old boy. The Temple is stuffed with short-sighted bookworms. If you think 'offering' to research something you are interested in--using Temple resources, no less--is in some way a boon to me, well...at least you have your alchemist here to deal with the social subtleties of the situation."
Byron hesitates a moment. On the one hand, more white obsidian would mean more weapons against the Dark. On the other, he did not trust Ky La at all. But he had to admit Osric was right--for all that he was untrustworthy, Ky la had no more desire for the Dark to overtake elen civilization than he did.
"I could do so though a single sample hardly proves the formula especially as I'll need to vary it to find replacements for the ruby solution as I doubt even the Temple has access to more of that."
"Surely your original...formula, whatever you would call it, didn't call for something practically nonexistent like efreeti blood? Do you have your notes with you?"
Byron nods, warming up to his subject now that he's focused on alchemy instead of someone for whom murder is legal. "True I am simply stating I have not tested the other formulation so it remains theoretical and very well take some experimentation to verify I simply haven't had access to the proper reagents such as true lava and until I have successfully produced white obsidian using this formulation I cannot be absolutely certain it is correct."
"Delightfully forthright - I can taste the honeyed serum of truth exuding from your very pores. You'll want to research the planar such-and-such today, but if you give me the list of reagents you need we can set something up for you as early as tomorrow."
He stands up. "Osric dear fellow, I'd be happy to show you a few choice tomes written in Geni, but I doubt you will find much about that altar in there. Those carvings were not Geni. They were something different, just like that..."LN", as you call it...is something different. Efreet would not build an altar to anything less than a god."
Osric shrugs at his insult. "If that's how you see it, Ky La, then so be it. If you think your resident library staff will be up to creating a practical solution, then I'm not really needed, am I? We brought our knowledge and skills in the spirit of cooperation toward a common goal, but if you insist on every bit of minutia being a negotiation, I have nothing beyond what I've already offered. I bid you good luck, and good day."
Osric nods respectfully at Ky La, and pats Byron on the back. "Maybe you should get your best offer here and do some comparison shopping with the alchemists. Life could get interesting around here if the temple wasn't the sole source of defense against the dark."
"I'll bet you get lots of Ifrits willing to make the ultimate sacrifice. And if the temple runs out, I'm sure some unwilling ones can be persuaded as well."
With that, he walks out the door and considers what to do next.
Ky La looks at the door for a moment after Osric leaves. "Hmm. Well, what do you say, Byron Cheme? Satisfy your curiosity regarding the planar problem today, and get started on white obsidian on the morrow?"
Odebie, Dove nods. "Of course. One cannot work a stone's throw away from your aptly-named residence and remain unaware of orean customs." Dove tilts his head. "Are you implying, then, that this is a grave-tree of some vintage or another?"
"Hm. Did you know that the most devout priest and shamans will plant trees in themselves while they're still living? And that, when they do so, their spirit never truly leaves the tree? I don't know what that staff is, but I recommend the guard avoid it for now. I'll send to my homeland for advice on it."