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Morvius looks puzzled at Cala and Talon's remarks: "I believe it is the nature of the Infernal Hierarchy to deal directly with those who break contracts; thus, if we have proof of treachery, I would imagine bringing it to Tiadora's or Dessiter's attention would mean that the matter - and the troublesome Knot - is taken out of our hands."
That is indeed the formal -though boring- approach. The more satisfying method is to eliminate the 7th knot yourself, which saves the hierarchy above you the trouble; Now *that* would clearly prove your initiative and prowess... But taking care of it yourself also raises all sorts of questions.
"I believe it is the nature of the Infernal Hierarchy to deal directly with those who break contracts; thus, if we have proof of treachery, I would imagine bringing it to Tiadora's or Dessiter's attention would mean that the matter - and the troublesome Knot - is taken out of our hands."
Cala snarls slightly at the comment, and shrugs "Morvius, I'd have thought someone worthy of being in the 9th would display more initiative, rather than go complain to Tia."
"Routing out treachery does a great deal for us, revealing our might, keeping our infighting away from public eye, and most importantly... it serves our contract Lord. Cleaning up problems like traitors reveals our eminent worthiness to those we serve." Pausing a moment, Caladwhen squints derisively at Morivus "Grow a backbone for gods sake."
Talon barks out a laugh at Cala's last comment. "He isn't afraid to stomp all over goblins against better judgement but he still slobbers at his master's heels like a dog." The reminder of the tense first meeting between the strix and the tiefling is brought back up.
Morvius curls his lip as he prepares to dispense some hard truths. "You're losing your composure, my girl - and your perspective. Our mission relates to the Tears: anything else is for minions to do for us. I've no problem with sending Tiadora to do my dirty work for me; I'm surprised it doesn't appeal to you. Oh - of course, you've made the issue with Elise personal." Morvius' voice drips scorn. "It isn't, of course: I don't bandy words with minions, I crush them if they're insolent. Or get someone else to crush them for me; doesn't matter either way. By sparring with them, you demean yourself and betray your insecurity. You want to demean yourself? Be my guest. I'll even clean your dress afterward. But your insecurity makes US look insecure by association. Pull yourself together."
Talon shakes his head. "No wonder you were sent to us. You'd be helpless on your own."
Affecting to notice Talon's presence for the first time, Morvius murmurs - with exquisite politeness - "Do excuse us, my dear boy - the grown-ups are talking..." He then ostentatiously turns his attention back to Cala.
Talon gives another laugh, then shoves Morvius -hard- into the wall. "Tell me when you're done with this moron Cala. I have better things to do." And with that Talon leaves, heading back to the library.
Talon has forgotten that Morvius is at least his equal in strength - and considerably more dextrous. The tiefling grabs the arm as it comes towards him and pivots: it is the strix who finds himself propelled, face first, into the wall.
Without changing his tone, and still addressing Cala, Morvius continues: "Take Talon, now: the boy is fundamentally a minion at heart, tagging along with you. Perhaps a step or two above the goblins, but that is all. I ignore him until he crosses the line, at which point I deal with him. I don't engage with his idiocy, I simply punish it - and it's never personal. Don't make your contest with Elise personal: if we can have someone remove her without being distracted from our main task, we should."
Releasing Talon and stepping smoothly away (5 ft. step), Morvius bows. "We shall of course make a group decision, and I shall of course go along with that decision. In the meantime, I have other tasks. An Infernal day to you all. Asmodeus is watching."
The alchemist returns to his laboratory, to (finally) activate the golem now that he knows the brain is safe to use.
Instead of being angry as he's shoved into the wall, Talon laughs. Then he strong-arms Morvius's grip loose, wrapping his left arm backwards around Morvius's and twirling to use his right on the small of his back to shove him into the wall as first intended, only now he holds him there. "You're biting off more than you can chew hellspawn. You study alchemy and utility magic, I study and practice the very art of killing people."
Morvius leaves it until the word "hellspawn" - it's more poetic that way. As a swift action, he withdraws a needle from his person using his prehensile tail, and jams it into one of the gaps in Talon's armour (he crafted the armour; he knows Talon's dimensions and physique probably better than the strix does himself).
Talon continues to hold Morvius, or at least continues to hold the same position. Gradually, he finds he cannot move - he is paralysed. With a small, almost apologetic, smile Morvius pries Talon's frozen, claw-like hands from his person and walks away.
He doesn't even say anything...
The paralysis wears off after 1 minute.
Talon grins. "Oh, you'll have to do better than that. Afraid to fight me you red skinned bastard?"
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Oret arrives as this last comment leaves Talon's lips, and ever-so-calmly steps between the two and wills the entire corridor to rumble and shake. The ground ripples, and pieces of rock and dirt fall from the ceiling. A deafening crash, and large cracks appear around him, making the terrain even more treacherous.
As the dust begins to clear, he speaks. He does not raise his voice, does not force himself to be heard, but despite that, you hear every syllable. "You will both stop this. We have but one goal here, and you would do well to remind yourselves of this, for we are supposed to be united in our struggle to reach it."
He looks at each of them, disgust plainly evident in his eyes. "You are acting like two children, each trying to prove that they are worthy of the others' respect. I tell you this: you have each lost my respect. I did not choose this path in order to have the opportunity to babysit you, nor to wipe the tears from your eyes because your pathetic feelings have been hurt. I once thought you better than that, but no more."
"I have no desire to hurt either of you, but it will happen if either of you attempts to approach the other for the rest of this day. This is not a threat. It is a promise."
Talon looks between Cala and Oret, then releases Morvius's twisted arm. "He needs to be taught respect by somebody, he should count himself lucky I used a hand instead of a blade. Next time I won't be so generous."
Oret turns to the Strix and stares at him, unblinking. "Like I said; you are as a child. You misunderstand the entire concept of respect. True respect is not taught; it is earned." He lets that information sink in for a moment before continuing. "What you have attempted is to teach fear, a very different enterprise. Morvius himself is either too capable, too proud, or too stupid - it matters not which - to learn that particular lesson with you as his teacher. You would do well to look elsewhere for your...entertainment."
Talon laughs. "He comes up here to ask Cala for help, then spends all his time insulting her. In my book that goes into the stupidity category."
"I did hear the echoes of their conversation as I was patrolling the halls. If I am not mistaken, they were having a difference of opinion. However, I cannot recall hearing Miss Caladwhen request your assistance in their disagreement, nor can I believe that she was ever in need of your 'rescue'." He looks briefly to Cala for confirmation, then continues.
"As to the last; say what you will. 'Your book' may be filled with no end of petty jabs and taunts, but they hold no power over me, nor should they anyone else. They are, after all, merely the petty remarks of a child."
With that, he turns his back to the magus, dismissing him entirely.
Next, Oret addresses Morvius. "Alchemist, since Talon is apparently unwilling to leave, you should retire to your laboratory and put the finishing touches on your golem...unless there is anything else you would like to say?"
Lastly, he turns to Cala. "Miss Caladwhen, Morvius does have a point, in that you do seem to be rather...invested...in making sure that Elise pay, by your hand, for her insubordination and treachery. Cardinal Thorne would not have bound them as a Knot if they were not formidable in their own right; I, too, believe that we would be best served not going head-to-head with them, if there is a way for us to deal with them with no danger to ourselves."
"However, if you insist on pursuing this course of action, we should invite them here, to the Horn. It can be for whatever reason, at whatever time, but we deal with them here. With our knowledge of their treachery, and our own information networks to perform those duties they are performing, we are in no real danger as long as they are there."
Talon's lip twitches, then he relaxes. I forget how wise Oret is. He's always so quiet. Being amongst these other races has ruined my composure.
As the tension and the physicality of the encounter continues escalate, Caladwhen takes a step or two back. While her face belays no emotion, a slight tremble in her hand belays a healthy undercurrent of fear to the observant. In comparison to Talon, Morvius and Oret, her frailty of body is never more apparent to her than when violence erupts.
It appeared to Cala that cooler minds would prevail; Oret had seen to that. Though she found his stoic attitude and unwavering dedication to the Asmodean cause insufferable at times, Caladwhen could not deny that the Oread possessed an inherent wisdom and solidity of mind that even she had not acquired in all her years walking Golarion.
Looking towards Talon, Caladwhen places her hand gently on his arm in an attempt to calm him ”Oret is right, we cannot be fighting amongst ourselves. Morvius maybe difficult and contrarian to a fault, but physical violence does not serve us.” Firing a quick and emotionless look at Morvius, the elven maid murmurs ”To his insult, I can manage some consequences for that.”
Addressing Morvius and Oret, Caladwhen plainly states ”No, Morvius has misunderstood me from the outset Oret, but I take your point. This is not personal. I do not like Elise, that is plainly evident. I don’t like Morvius though either. You know what the difference is?" Caladwhen pauses a moment for dramatic effect before answer her own question ”Morvius does not openly plot against us; Zadaria very well does. And yes, we do need to deal with it, because exactly as you point out Oret, Elise is dangerous, and has powerful allies, including the Baron in Farholde."
Tossing her hands up, Caladwhen adds "I should state that I never suggested an out and out confrontation either... I was merely soliciting possible courses of action we could take to dispose with the 7th Knot ourselves, rather than cry foul to the Cardinal or Dessiter. If we can't deal with Zadaria ourselves, than honestly, we don't belong here."
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Oret's intervention instantly diffuses the situation.
But, as tempers cool, so does morale; your entire knot is distracted by constant frustration and paralyzing tension, wondering if -nay, when- it will happen again, and if it will come to blows, and what the effects will be on the Mission and the Contract.
After the yelling and the tremors emanating from the upper floor have subsided, the wildest rumors of the masters fighting between themselves spread through the ranks. For several days, the minions scurry along furtively - They are scared, working harder than normal to avoid getting hit by the wrath of the masters.
For a while, you feel as if Asmodeus has left you to fend for yourself.
As a penalty for fighting between yourselves, the members of the 9th Knot are shaken until further notice.
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As you wait for Gabriel's report from (or about) the Seventh Knot, the seemingly endless, monotonous prayers drone on. With every entrance stonewalled or barricaded, getting up there to speak those cursed lines is becoming a pain: From the living quarters one must first go down to the caves, then up the secret stairway, then past those smelly brutes (who still haven't completed their mind-blowingly-slow paced chess game) and then, finally, <blah-dee-blah-di-darkness>.
You know the words by heart now, and repeating them over and over so many times is slowly starting to make you feel like daemons are drawing a cheese grater over your mind.
And afterwards, you get to walk down the stupid stairs once more. Woohoo(!)
Yes.
This place is incontestably awful.
Fortunately, we're almost at week 10; almost two thirds left to do. Could be worse. *sigh*
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Gabriel has been gone for almost a full week now.
In the afternoon of the 7th day, his party of would-be-heroes comes back.
Lars is with them - happily hopping up and down on Gabriel's saddle. You've never seen him like this before, he is the very image of barely contained joy.
Gabriel reports:
"What an interesting development this morning. We were approached by
a so-called holy man, full of talk about visions and angels and so
forth. He claimed these spirits had driven him to stop the wickedness
going on in the Horn, and to rally us to our “destiny”. Mentioned us
almost by name these angels did! I’m flattered."
"He delivered us his pitch and then gave to us an immense pile of
information including maps, names, guard counts and so much more. Really
he did everything but give us the keys to the front door."
"Of course I didn’t accept such gifts without a fair degree of
skepticism. I had Vethia trail the “Holy Man”, and our fears turned out
to be justified. She saw this angel-speaker slip into a side alley and
transform into a dark haired -and much younger- human ."
"My tracker followed the human through the streets of Farholde. She
saw the young man rendezvous with a white haired woman, a white raven on
her shoulder. The man called her “Z”."
"They didn’t say much to each other. She asked him “Well? Were they
strong enough?” and all he said was “It is done. The Ninth is finished.”
Clearly they assume to use us in a double-cross."
"Vethia is sure that the woman in white must be staying in the nearby
inn -- “The Auld Briarhall” in Auld’Irey. "
"I'd like to take the opportunity to commend my elven tracker. She
tracked a shapechanger through almost a half mile of city, managed to
eavesdrop on a private guarded conversation and reported back without
even a ripple of trouble."
Talon listens quietly, scrutinizing Gabriel.
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There's not even the slightest hint of deception. Instead, Gabriel is intensely proud that his idea, his gamble, has paid off. He's so happy about the operation, he's a little intoxicated with the success; that explains his slightly tongue-in-cheek manner.
Because pay off, it did: He's got the evidence, and a first hand witness; there's enough here to put the Seventh on trial, and Gabriel knows it. And that's why he's a little giggly; he knows you're good to loyal subjects, and he's hoping (not expecting or asking -- hoping!) for the fat reward that he feels is his due after achieving something of this magnitude.
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"Kaw! You should've seen the look on her face, mistress! She was absolutely sure they'd be taking over your assignment within the next few days. This...This..."
It's quite obvious the familiar is about to explode from joy.
"this Trickery is so masterfully executed - so perfect...complete..."
I guess this answers the un-asked question 'do Crows every cry?', because yes, they do. At least, this one does.
Wether that has anything to do with features he retains from his previous life - before he got turned into a bird - will remain a question, but right now he's spilling his guts.
"Mistress, I...I envy you.."
As Gabriel reports of the the past weeks events, Caladwhen's left eyebrow slowly lifts as she absorbs the information. Ignoring the outpouring of joy from T'larryo, Caladwhen nods at Gabriel "Well done Gabriel, it appears your deception has worked." Reaching her hand out to caress the face of clearly such a clever subordinate, Caladwhen whispers in an alluring fashion "The initiative you and your associates have shown will not be forgotten." Looking to entire Verdant, Caladwhen allows herself the smallest of grins "Congratulations, heroes."
Craning her head towards the others, Caladwhen adds "I can't say I'm at all surprised by these turn of events; Zadaria was duplicitous nearly from the moment we met her. Jealously and envy have consumed her, and they will be her undoing." Looking up towards the Horn, Caladwhen squints, somewhat lost in thought. Before long, Caladwhen continues "We have enough to move against Zadaria, I'm certain. You all know how I feel about it; I remain of the opinion that we should eliminate our challengers from within, rather than wait for the Cardinal to met out his decision."
Turning around to face her comrades fully, the lithe elven maid appears somewhat sublime "Should we decide that action is necessary, I think these might be of some service." Snapping her finger, Nariel approaches with a large tray containing three elegant shirts, folded and stacked upon one another, as well as a set of silver bracers and two headbands. "Enjoy."
Sindran keeps his attention to Gabriel and his group. He listens with a stoic face but, inwardly, it is sweet relief to be dealing with capable beings who are not insane, hostile, or otherwise aggravating. Such a shame they aren't in his organization.
"Your tracker is indeed to be commended, as are all of you," the half-orc speaks to the group when Caladwhen has said her due. "Your efforts will not go unrewarded. Your actions are appreciated. You have proven yourselves, not only to us, but to those we act for."
Sindran looks meaningfully into their eyes and says two words he rarely speaks and means. "Thank you.
"Your mistress will see to your prize, but I will hold you a rare favor. Ask something from me, and I will see if I can grant it."
He speaks to Caladwhen and the others once he's finished his speech. "The sooner the better. I'd personally like to know what the Baron's involvement is in all this, as well as the others of the Seventh Knot. And that fact that she has so much information in the first place is . . . troubling."
A few extra hunting parties are sent out, into the ferocious jungle.
You realize you could've learned about the 7th intended betrayal in a much worse scenario. Motivated by this recent good turn of events, you soon forget the recent squabbles.
"Masters, Bane-Wog find funny fruit!" Zikomo tells you. Indeed, the Goblins have discovered a couple dozen ripe pineapple-ish fruits, which contain extremely sweet (and probably slightly fermented) juice. These will serve nicely for drinks during the feast.
Not much later, the hunting parties come back, dragging a small herbivorous dinosaur on a makeshift wooden cart; I say small, but that's only compared to an inn. The creature is big enough to require Grumblejack to impale it on a tree just to be able to roast it over a bonfire - but you've never seen him happier.
Good times.
I am here to call on the ninth knot. I am Cole of the seventh knot. I have news.
In the clearing a tall cloaked man stands. Arms are extended as if to show he hold no weapons. A bow is strapped over his back and a sword dangles from his side. He bears a poll with a white piece of canvas except for the holy symbol of Asmodeus painted in what looks to be blood on it.
After speaking he throws back his hood so that you may see his face. You would recognize him from when you first met the seventh at the Cardinals manor on the old moor road.
Please brothers and sisters of our Dark Prince. You must come speak with me.
Cole stands a massive 6’6” and has s defined build. He is quite handsome. He has short cropped blond hair, and green eyes. Upon looking a moment you can see there are multiple images of him.
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just outside the horn, a tough man dismounts from a dog-tired horse.
You hear him before you see him, though. The booming voice -voices??- echo through the stone structure of the horn.
But, once you see him, there's no doubt. This is Cole. One of Zadaria's minions of the 7th knot.
He's got some nerve, showing up here, after what you've just found out..!
He is alone, and he is waving a poor attempt at a white flag. The unholy pentagram is a nice touch, though.
Who wants to say 'hello'? or 'get down and you may not get hurt'?
Has purely defensive spells up so we don't think he's a threat. Clever. Talon's eyes flick between the mirror images. "Cover me. I'm going to subdue him, make sure you can back me up if it's a trap." Talon puts a transparent hand on himself, vanishing into thin air.
Talon waits for the rest of the party to be ready, then glides down on silent wings. Right as he lands in front of Cole, he pops back into existence, shouting "Nautkynir bilaes!" The air explodes with blinding lights as Cole and his images are covered in glitterdust. "Drop your spell and surrender!"
From on high in the tower, Caladwhen glares suspiciously as Cole makes his introduction. Either Zadaria is up to something, or she has foolishly acted without the support of her cadre.
Without taking her eyes the multiple images below, Cala responds to Talon's orders "Very well Talon, but be careful... I don't mean to point out the obvious, but this could very well be a trap of Zadaria's design," Looking over towards the large strix warrior, she nods before adding "but there is only one way to find out. I'll be right behind you."
Turning her attention again towards Cole, the lithe elven maid squints while quickly drawing what appears to be a wad of gum from her belt pouch.
"Wanya et Vanille." With the quietly spoken phrase, Caladwhen suddenly disappears from sight.
Cole locks gazes with Talon for a moment to show a glimpse of inner strength before dropping to his knees and lowering the banner to the ground.
You are the one called Talon. A magus. Use your knowledge of the arcane. You know this spell may not be dismissed. It was only to buy time for me to talk. You see the seventh has found out a great deal about you. The witch is making moves, but her motives are no longer that of Asmodeus or the Cardinals. Her jealousy has made her week. She puts her faith now in her winter spirits. She wishes to finish the ritual here and sacrifice Vetra-Kali to her deity for some great reward. She has broken the contract and is sure enough in her plan that she shared it with us. She already made the moves to send another group here to attack, but that seems to have failed if I'm speaking with you now. I will not beg for you mercy or my life. My life is for Asmodeus and if he wants my soul now than so be it. I have honored my contract by coming to you. I don't know when but the seventh will move on you itself soon. You should alert the Cardinal of this treachery. Break your seal.
He looks up to Talon with a satisfied look. With all your fighting prowess you know the look in his eyes it is of someone that has made their peace. Someone that does not fear death. Usually it is a look caried among zealous men.
Well, he's not lying. Although he does bring more details than we had. Talon remains quiet, waiting for the others to speak.
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Sindran stands a distance away, nearer to the entrance of the Horn. He is far enough that he is unlikely to get caught if a trap is sprung on the others, but near enough to listen, and to aid them if something occurs.
Of course, the flaming skeletons near him that surround the parley prevent a direct shot at him.
Was it a trap? Unsure. There was still no firm decision made on whether to break the seal and alert the Cardinal. And with one of the 7th telling them to break it. . . . it merits further discussion at least.
He approaches. Sindran was in the middle of a session when Cole called, and it shows as the half-orc didn't have time to clean himself. Blood and viscera coat his entire form, some of it still fresh and dripping from his clothes and blackened arms.
"Cole Adams," he says, greeting the man with a smiling of bloodied teeth. He makes sure to say Cole's surname to emphasize they already knew of him. "That's quite the story. Why don't we move this discussion inside?"
He reaches into his pouch and pulls out a set of manacles, throwing them to Cole. Sindran's still-wet bloodied fingerprints blends well with the dull iron.
"A precaution. You'll notice an enchantment on them, but it shouldn't harm you."
Cole picks up the manacles and puts them on.
There. A precaution is it? It seems by your over reactions to me showing up you may have already learned of the witches treachery. She no longer serves Asmodeus. I'm not sure if she ever did. I believe the 9th does and that is why I am here.
He stands and lowers his head to act submissive waiting to be taken inside.