While Cole delivers his monologue, Sindran is working on strapping the rest of the 7th to the operating tables, personally checking the restraints himself. He orders the goblins to clean up the mess in the caves and orders the men in his organization to start an inventory of their spoils.
He notices that Caladwhen's assistant seems to have taken the dead one's body and mentions as such. "Not incorporating Titus into your creation?"
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incorporating
After a busy, but rather productive day, you find yourselves preparing for the Call Across the Void. You can't help but frown when you reminisce that the evening ritual used to be Oret's duty. This task always just got done, as if by magic. He never complained about it either, although you all know how much he must've hated it. But, he's dead now; his soul claimed by hell, sent to the pit by the contracts that bind you all.
By now, Oret is probably already claiming his due rewards in hell... Who knows - he could be a Barbazu in just a few years.
But here, in Andoran, he will be sorely missed.
Still, there is some good news - the treachery of the 7th knot is foiled; you can't help but look forward with a smile. Despite the constant acts of sabotage by the 7th knot, you have been doing quite all right for yourselves. And now that Heithr and Venorik Rah are replacing the 7th with an actual intelligence network, who knows what you're capable of? At the very least, you can now plan for any 'surprise' Farholde throws at you well before it happens.
There is the matter of the Baron, though. He will need to be informed of the demise of his slut mistress.
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Grumblejack is fiercely interested in the non-melting ice. If you'd look at his face, you'd see that he's not just thinking about its potential as a permanent cool snack, but you can almost see the cogs behind his eyes moving and rattling.
He steps up towards whoever of you is near, and opens his mouth, to speak:
"Re-lich-un is hard. Ice witch work for you; you work for Thorn; Thorn works for Devil God."
He waits for a sign that he has made himself clear, before continuing. He raises the ice cone for emphasis:
"Ice witch pray to ice. You pray to ...sick-thing. But no one pray to Hell?"
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Glancing over at Cole with a quick nod, Caladwhen responds to his offer "I will need your help, and Talon's. I don't have the physical strength to move the prisoners, so you'll need to provide your muscle. Some of this will be heavy work." With that, Caladwhen motions at the unconscious bodies of Tallus and Dostan "Those two in particular... you can start by putting them on the slab near Titus."
Falling silent a moment, Caladwhen sets herself to inspecting the surgical tools the Nariel had laid out for her. After a moment, she selects a particularly sharp looking scalpel, and holds it up to look at it more closely in the light of her laboratory. Without moving a muscle, Caladwhen eyes dart over towards Sindran, and a slight grin forms "I wouldn't dream of leaving dear Titus out of this masterpiece dear Sindran."
Sauntering slowly over towards Elise, the lithe necromancer turned physician looks her captive in the eyes. In her present state, all the bravado Elise displayed had been replaced by emotions easy to read. Fear. Hatred. Mourning. Finally, after a moment, Caladwhen sighs in a manner that drips with disappointment "Elise, the Cardinal wishes you delivered to him for judgment. Seeing that we are under contract, I intend to fulfill his wish."
With a quick look at the devils restraining her, Caladwhen nods towards the slab near her "That said, a literal interpretation on how we deliver you means non of your mortal bodies need be delivered whole." Once the Elise is on the table, Caladwhen moves beside her and gently moves a strand of hair from her eyes, and heartlessly whispers "Such lovely eyes Elise; I can see why the Baron fell so easily for you, as did these foolish men that followed you; you needn't fear though, they will be one thing I intend to leave you; after all, you must see exactly what your treachery has wrought you."
Looking to the others, Caladwhen states impassively "Let's begin."
What do we wish to do with the Baron, does he have any further use to us. I know Elise well enough to disguise myself as her if we wanted to lure him out here. Or we all disuise ourselves as the seventh and we take him from inside his home. Or we let him sit and wonder what happened to the witch.
While Caladwhen Works, the BaneWog become very skittish around the laboratory. They no longer stroll through the horn with mischief in their eyes.
It's as if they instinctively know how wrong the work in there really is.
At a crucial point in the ...work... happening in the alchemy lab, Zikomo sticks his head around the door and begins to lament the ongoing affairs.
*shakes head, tut-tuts* "Bane Wog speak da TRUTH - lords have FOUUULLLLLah magic!" Oh how he loves to roll that L. Even a TV evangelist could learn a thing or two from this green little man.
He is throwing such a righteous fuss, just when you are ...merging... what remains of Dostan's right leg to the base of the growing monstrosity, that it takes sincere effort to remain focused on your task at hand.
Leg.
Whatever!
Pausing from her gruesome project a moment, Caladwhen considers Cole's propositions "Yes, you did know her better than any of us Cole. Maybe a little trickery is in store for the dear Baron; I for one would like to know exactly how complicit he was in this treachery."
Talon, assisting Cala with the project by doing the heavy lifting and some knowledge input, turns his head slowly to Zikomo. He gives Cala a look, as if asking if she wants him dead.
Remaining collected and taking no discernible notice of Zikumo, the diligent necromancer continues her engrossing work. After a finishing up the last few stitches, Caladwhen glances up at Zikumo and shakes her head with equal parts of scorn and impatience "What is that doing here?"
Turning to Talon with just the hint of a grin but an impassive tone, Caladwhen adds
Returning to her work, Caladwhen stands back to view the monstrosity that was Titus. Grotesque, but effective. It's both cruel and just in a twisted sort of way. Snapping out of her silent thought, Caladwhen suddenly blurts out an additional request to the hulking Magus
Talon is halfway across the room, then he sheathes Rygat and grabs the little spy by the collar and drags him outside. After that he puts up a "Do not disturb" sign.
Zikomo braces himself, clearly he is of no mind to leave on his own.
"You're exploiting workers! Hanging on to outdated imperialist dogma which perpetuates the economic and social differences in our society!"
Not that Zikomo has any chance - Talon, his arm clad in the purest shimmering ebony, held aloft Rygat, signifying with Asmodean Providence that he, Talon, was to carry Zikomo out of the lab.
"If I went 'round saying I was an emperor just because some moistened bint had lobbed a scimitar at me -"
Zikomo is unceremoniously placed on the cold floor of the hallway.
The lab door closes with a tangible Thud.
"See the violence inherent in the system! Come see the violence inherent in the system! BaneWog! We're being repressed!"
Talon stands at the door and shakes his head. "I fear we will have to address this, sooner rather than later."
Interesting fellow there, who is this Bane Wog? The leader of more minions? He seems not thrilled to be under our rule. Is this a problem that needs addressing?
Cole seems curious to find out more about regular operations.
With a sigh, Caladwhen mutters impatiently "Such a nuisance. We'll have to get him back onside; we can't afford to have those creatures running roughshod all over the Horn while we work." Glancing over at Cole, the annoyed elf shakes her head "To answer your question Cole, those bothersome creatures have been taking up residence here for sometime. They have been subject to us since Talon defeated their Chief and Champion in a duel, but since then, Zikumo has also had their ear."
Somewhat resolved to the problem, Caladwhen looks towards Sindran "Maybe you can deal with him Sindran; the tribe respects you above us all; I'm pretty sure they think I'm the devil at this point, so it's probably best I have little contact with them at this point." Any observer of can tell that Caladwhen seems to relish that last point, since she has registered her disgust with the Banewogs on any number of occasions.
Returning to the task at hand, Caladwhen heads over to the where Elise is resting after the procedure. Standing in vigil and ensuring their health, Nariel continues to apply bandages and heal the wounds that had been inflicted as a result of the procedures.
"Wake her Nariel, I want her to see this." With a quick nod, Nariel grabs some smelling salts and rouses the leader of the 7th. When she finally comes too, Caladwhen simply greets their fallen adversary "Good afternoon Elise; sorry to interrupt your amelioration, but I though you should witness this."
Standing near the corpse of Titus, Caladwhen retrieves a small black onyx from her belt pouch and places it on the chest of the monstrosity. Quietly, Caladwhen utters two words in a frightening, but by now familiar dialect "M'aghi nai." Suddenly, the onyx begins to hover under its own magical power, finally resting a few inches above the chest of Titus.
Arms outspread, Caladwhen begins to recite the same phrase over and over again, slightly louder each time "Baer lacyer nomen kas. Baer lacyer nomen kas." As Cala's voice raises, it begins to echo in a strange and discordant manner, and the lighting in the lab of the Horn seems to grow dim as dark and unnatural powers move through the vicinity.
Suddenly, the right arm of the corpses raises into the air accompanied by a moan that sounds like a distorted version of Titus' voice. Standing back, Caladwhen gestures with her right hand for the zombie to rise. Following her command, the amalgam of the 7th sits up, and slowly turns to face Elise. In a dispassionate and uninterested tone, Caladwhen introduces their creation to the leader of the 7th "This will deliver you and your cohorts to the Cardinal... I can only hope that you now appreciate the gravity of your folly."
I see and are we worried what troubles they could cause. This Zikumo, what can we do with him? I'm sure he has ambitions and wants. We could empower him more. Give him what he wants and desires to keep his masses calm. We spoil him to the point to make him need and want us. I know it sounds a bit strange, but we wouldn't want t riot or something. The ritual is the most important thing at the moment. If we can avoid rocking the boat than that would be our best course. I am new here though and starting to feel things out. What do the rest of you think.
Sindran interrupts Cole with a polite cough. "I think you should leave this best to me. Spoil him, you strengthen his selfishness. Discipline him, you breed resentment. Try to convince him to do best for the cause and you cause cynicism. The problem is that it is already too late for such measures."
Sindran steeples his hands and frowns, the disappointment in having let it get this far apparent on his features. "Morale must be taken care of before it becomes an issue. Due to recent circumstances, it has been difficult to present a sufficiently united cause."
He is undoubtedly referring to the many abrupt changes in their group structure as well as the louder arguments between party members. He does not voice this to Cole, however.
"Caladwhen is correct in saying this is a matter under my jurisdiction. I have taken it to myself to preside over both internal and external liaisons. Please keep that in mind for the future."
Sindran then moves on to his plans on what to do.
"I'll isolate and get rid of Zikomo. If he can be salvaged, I'll attempt so. Perhaps you'll see a taste of my skills, Cole. If not, then there are some replacements I have in mind. I will let you know how it goes."
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That's an attempt of Diplomacy. If that doesn't work, Intimidate or Torture
so... why didn't you roll? :)
Zikomo is sincerely surprised when you voice your concern. "But the father demands the dead stay dead! Why will you not seee the truth!?"
Oh Zikomo respects you all right. In fact, he clearly thinks you're the best friend he ever had - which, sadly, is probably true.
It's Caladwhen, and more specifically, her works, he has a major problem with. And as you correctly estimated, this will not simply go away.
With the monstrosity completed and gently parading around the hallway, Melinoe and Tisaera come strolling down, and inspect it from all sides.
"awwwww, cuuuuuuute!" says Melinoe, poking in the flesh-thing.
Tisaera inspects one of the legs. "Oh look, Mel! Look at these sutures! They're made to resemble a string of Zebubs! Truly a masterpiece!"
Their good mood quickly ends as they resume their intended task; to bring the 7th knot to the Cardinal, so he can file a formal complaint.
They curtly nod to Caladwhen. "It would seem you have met your contractual obligations. Now we must needs deliver the accussed to the plaintiff, so we may meet ours."
The Erinyes do not wait for an answer - the next step is obvious and they do not need your guidance.
They awkwardly hold hands with the flesh-thing, and guide it outside the horn. Wobbling slowly and grotesquely, Dostan's legs slowly carry the stumbling giblets of the Knot Hibernal outside.
Melinoe looks back towards the horn for just a second, and smiles her fearsome, toothy smile. "Catch you later."
They teleport away.
Talon lets Sindran take over the situation, knowing the green man's tongue is as magical as his spells. He gives Sindran the typical Call me if you need me look, then decides to take a flight outside. Working inside for this long can help focus the mind, but it did little for the body and he was feeling trapped. To make sure he was at least getting some work done with it, Talon scouts the perimeter in rings that continually grow larger. He lets the others know where he will be for the next few hours, packing a lunch and heading out, making sure that he will be back in time for the ritual (regardless if it is his turn).
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By my count, we are around week 9 or 10. This leaves us some 20 weeks of three-rituals-a-day-drudgery to go.
Hopefully, most of this will be uneventful; now that your minions are handling intelligence, security is quite effective. For instance:
You have a few open leads:
Talon's expanding spiral pattern eventually reveals two young men on horseback, riding towards the horn. They stop, move to a clearing in the forest, and put on a shirt with Asmodeus' holy symbol clearly visible on back and front. These boys clearly are messengers from Venorik Rah or Heitr, and Talon intercepts them to hear their reports.
Reports from Farholde:
A group of Iraen barbarians and rangers intent on sacking the Horn arrived in Farholde. Heitr lured the fools into a late night meeting, and slaughtered them. In the morning at first light, the town watch discovered a grisly charnel scene of slaughtered corpses, hanging entrails and a message written in blood “Stay away from the Horn”.
For at least now, the message is effective. Several local groups of adventurers do indeed depart Farholde deciding that there are easier pickings to the west!
“Sad” news reaches Farholde -- the Fire-Axe has destroyed another army at the battle of Upandershire Ford. Many of the sons of Farholde sent to war were at that battle, and will not be coming home.
Counted among the dead is Lord Argus Welshire, Duke of Farholde. It is said the Fire-Axe himself hewed Lord Argus’ head off in one mighty stroke.
(likely, Sakkarot drop-kicked the head into the river afterwards, but the reports don't mention anything about that.)
During week 10, Sindran is approached by Zikomo and a couple goblin tribesmen. They shuffle their feet somewhat - but knowing Zikomo, he's probably just waiting for a dramatic opportunity.
When he has your attention, he waves his hands to the air in despair and speaks: "Master Sindran! I bring terrrrible tidings. Two Bane Wog parties have not returned from hunt! They go to Lake Skye, along Broken River."
He walks to a spot where the sunlight amy reflect spectacularly on the skull he uses as a hat. "Master. I have read - The Omens - and The Omens...speak of ...a Hunting Demon!" He shakes his rat-skull armbands for dramatic effect.
The Bane Wog tribesmen take a step back and begin yammering pitifully.
Cole keeps to himself most of the time, investigating and verifying all they thought the knew of the place. After he reveals the rest of the weak spots to the group, feeling he has gained their trust. He helps in the ritual taking up Orets spot. He too will hunt most days and keep the group well fed on dear or any local game.
Sindran throws out a rehearsed platitude to ease Zikomo's worry before mentioning that Zikomo seems nervous and is there anything Sindran could do? He always has some time to spend for a friend, not mentioning whether or not he actually considers Zikomo that.
Knowing the BaneWogs respond to drama, Sindran subtly clears his throat before delivering a performance that should be several shades better than Zikomo's own.
The half-orc places himself in shade, counter to Zikomo's sunlight. The sparks of light that seem to come from his aura of fire increases his mysticism and feeling of danger.
Sindran is dressed plainly but it only enhances the effect, the showman not requiring anything but the slightest shift of his voice and the smallest movement to convey an utter sense of urgency. Here and now, he is not far removed from them, and what he says affects them all.
"A Hunting Demon?" he begins, expression grave and voice solemn. "Near Lake Skye?"
Sindran's scorched hands moving only to emphasize a word or emotion, the blackened skin giving off a subtle sense of dread.
"Terrible indeed, and those parties we must assume gone and dead. A fearsome foe this might be--but BaneWogs do not succumb to fear. BaneWogs conquer it. What else did The Omens say?"
Sure thing, I can check it out. Give me nother hunting group for bate. I will follow and steath behind them and see what comes out to get them.
He says with a hint of excitment to get a mission.
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Sindran, while you are discussing religion, Grumblejack turns out to be a surprisingly diligent student (to the effect his tiny brain allows)
"Hmmm...Grumblejack not know much about the gods. " says the ogre suddenly suprising contemplative. "Men who wear 'Sar-ren-nay' suns always hated Grumblejack, so Grumblejack hate them back. What gods like ogres?"
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Talon, Cole:
Lake Skye is about half a day away as the crow (or Strix) flies, but Cole will need to walk for almost 10 hours straight as the river twists and bends, making for a much longer travel distance across the nasty terrain of the Caer Bryr jungle around you.
Satisfied that Sindran has the goblin issue well under control, Caladwhen retreats to the laboratory, heading straight for the Golem. Inspecting the mechanical monstrosity, Caladwhen determines that Morvius indeed left it in fine condition. With a matter of fact tone, Caladwhen speaks aloud to T'larryo "Morvius may have been arrogant and insufferable, but there is no questioning the quality of his work." Looking over at a nearby table, Caladwhen notices a manual written in the tieflings shorthand addressed to her. Picking it up, Caladwhen skims through it with a light scowl "He even took the time to write some instructions, albeit laced with passive aggressive commentary towards me; how thoughtful of him."
Setting the manual aside, Caladwhen shakes her head "Nevertheless, I think we'll leave it dormant until required. I don't trust anything I didn't build by hand myself..." Resolved and fully aware of the procedures, Caladwhen begins to work once more on magical equipment for use by the 9th Knot.
(at some moment during week 10)
*puff of smoke*
*whiff of brimstone*
The familiar immaculatesque shape of Tiadora cracks her neck left, then right. Looking displeased as always, she spots Grumblejack on the other side of the horn's "front yard".
Tiadora takes a deep breath and shouts at the top of her voice:
""
The word pierces the otherwise blissful silence, and her shrill voice does NOT make it any easier. All who hear her feel as if a dagger was just inserted into both their eardrums.
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Grumblejack startles at the fierce noise, and involunatrily drops the Goblin he was eating.
"Grubmlejack NOT likes her."
He looks around, but there's no one there to blame or send instead - grudgingly, he realises he'll have to walk all the way over to Tiadora and see what she wants.
Frowning like a toddler, he sets off towards her, as slowly as he dares.
"*grmbl*...One day, Grumblejack eat her."
The prospect seems to cheer him up a little bit.
When he finally reaches Tiadora's position, he bravely speaks:
"Grumblejack NOT pet. Grumblejack Fearsome Monster!"
"Hah! Get in my way, little ogre, and I’ll show you what a real monster looks like. Now, bring this to your masters."
Her fine hand drops a small decorated chest into Grumblejack's outstretched paw.
If any of you were there, you'd realize it's the same type of chest that thus far, all of the Cardinal's rewards have been delivered in. But you're not. ^_^
"And bathe, will you? Your stench is intolerable."
*whiff of brimstone*
*puff of smoke*
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The small chest is loaded with various Andoran coinage - a total value of about 3000 gold.
It also contains a small note, in the by now familiar calligraphy of your faith's cardinal:
"Your initiative is as commendable as your solution is remarkable.
Now, finish your original mission, and bring me the daemon's gift!"
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And that concludes the side quest of dealing with the 7th knot. This kind of praise may not sound like much - but it is rare inside the ranks of Hell to speak fondly of -let alone compliment on- those ranked lower than oneself.
Talon, Cole, it is well into the evening when you reach the banks of Lake Skye. You've flown a long way together in a very uncomfortable and sometimes uncomfortably intimate way. It's only natural you shared a few battle tricks and tactics to kill time.
Along the way, some of the wildlife had an opinion about your visiting the area around their lair or nest. Some of the beasts you'd never even seen before - but you decided to call them 'lunch' and 'dinner'.
By now, Talon's arms are burning from carrying Cole.
The lake is a beatiful, calm place. The air is pregnant with chirping insects. and twittering birds and skittish reptiles, who are eating their bellies full at this time of day.
There are some sand beaches, a few rocky overhangs, and a small clutch of swamp cypress trees on the banks of the Lake.
Flying down and landing near Sindran’s hulking cohort, Caladwhen sighs and provides an uncharacteristic bit of comfort "That woman is insufferable Grumblejack; just ignore her, I always have."
After scanning over the note in a somewhat blasé manner, Caladwhen inspects the over chest. It appears that the Cardinal enjoyed the fruits of our little endeavor.
"Grumblejack, if you would be so kind as to take this into the Horn. These additional funds are a welcome addition to our war chest."
Rest now Talon, you must be tired. I will stand watch. Do you see those boats over there? Looks like we may have found somthing here. I'm going to cicle around once and check the peremiter.
Talon nods, furling in his sore wings and leaning against a tree.
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Cole, You can see why the Goblins come here to hunt; the water is refreshing, teeming with fish, and it's a welcome change from the oppressive jungle heat.
your eye falls on a spire of stone a few hundred feet away. The material and the shape are quite similar to those that the Horn was made of - except this spire is only 30ft high. Right in the side of the spire is a shallow cave.
A cave. I will Talon about it, maybe we can rest there.
Cole finishes his perimeter before returning to Talon to tell him of the cave.
Talon looks at the cave, glancing around. "It seems uninhabited. Good find Cole." Talon takes a step in, then pauses. "Remember we're here hunting some sort of predator. I wouldn't be surprised if it visited here." He stares into the cave for a minute, then backs out. "Let's set up in a nearby tree so we can watch it."
If you say so, but if it starts raining I'm going in the cave. Sorry my specialties are infiltration and hiding. I never was much of a hunter or tracker. Perhaps that is something to remedy in the future.
Cole takes up a spot in a nearby tree.