"I heard that the Paralictor never speaks and gives his orders telepathically. No one has heard the man's voice in years, they say." Tristan relates the urban legend as if he's telling a ghost story, caught somewhere between giving the others a good laugh and actually believe it himself.
The Songbird nods at Tristan's comment, "There's more truth to that than you may know. I met the bastard before his rise to power."
At Lucius's story, the tall scarred man falters.
"Your sister? We have more to talk about than I thought..."
Arriving at the hideout, the party is met by an anxious and surprised Amelia.
"Thank the gods above you're all okay and you brought the Songbird back and... little David Grulio! You lot, you're heroes, you know that?"
The dwarven woman ushers the young nobleman inside. The Pathfinder safehouse is noticeable tidied up in the short few hours the group was away. Grimm, Lucius's monstrous hound, bounds forward when the ranger enters.
Aleixica, silent until now, smiles at Amelia's words. "I don't know about that; just doing what has to be done, I suppose.
"Speaking of which, now what? I could use a nap, but we can't stay down here and hide from Hellknights forever!"
Lucius breaths a sigh of relief at the sight of his companion. He walks over and pets him. Turning to the Songbird: What did you mean earlier 'we have things to discuss'? Do you have information about her death?
"The Pathfinders... What would you say if I told you there was one Pathfinder left in the city?"
"And your sister, I knew her before the Fall. I know she worked among the Children. I know she was lost when they surrendered to the Council."
"There is? Who is he? Maybe he's a contact I'm sposed to meet."
"I might be able to help you find him but it will take some time... In the meantime there are some things you can help me with."
"What did you have in mind, partner?"
At that moment, Tristan's stomach release an almost inhuman roar, noisily cutting through the din of anxious dialogue.
"I...I haven't eaten in a few days..." he confesses, covering his embarrassment with a confrontational delivery.
At Tristan's comment, the Songbird gives an odd expression, the look of a man hearing something he didn't quite understand.
"I'm afraid there's not much I can do to help with that. I expended a great deal of my magic for the day. The patrols above will have given up by the evening. We'll get you something to eat then Greg-"
The Songbird stops suddenly. There's an awkward pause as if he'd said something inappropriate.
"It will be safe to return to the surface then."
He looks to Bishop again.
"Something dangerous. Something I thought too foolish to even attempt myself in the last five years... How important is the Society to you?"
"Give me a little while, and I should be able to do something about the food," Aleixica says, ignoring the Songbird's strange vocal mishaps. "No need for danger at all."
Retreating to a quiet corner, she begins praying, her head bowed in concentration.
She returns and gives a wide smile to the group. "Everyone ready? It's not the greatest food ever, but it'll fill your stomach. Desna?"
Moments later, enough food to feed everyone twice over for the next 24 hours appears -- some sort of bean curd along with mashed potatoes with carrots and peas and a crusty bread. "Eat well, friends. Desna provides for all!"
"You have no idea stranger. It's my life, er was my life. How dangerous we talkin'?"
When Alexica goes off to cast her food making spell, Bishop's stomach also rumbles. "I've lived on hard tack and rations, this is a feast. Thank ya kindly Alexi."
"My pleasure," she says with a smile. "I only wish everything Desna brought me here to do would be that easy."
The Songbird gives the food a glance and offers Aleixica a nod of thanks but doesn't take any.
"What about you Tristan, what is your passion? I understand the others: vengeance, redemption, hope... What motivates you?"
Thanking Aleixica for the sumptuous bounty, the half-elf witch sits on the ground as the others talk. When Orsin directs the question at him, he pauses his chewing for a moment, giving it some thought.
"...justice?" he responds, mouth still full of food.
"So young..." the Songbird mutters.
The scarred man pauses as he considers the group again.
"Very well - Perhaps we can work together for a time", he concludes.
"Few know it but Westcrown is tied to Hells through a series of infernal pillars - conduits of power that allow an ongoing connection between this world and the other. It's through this connection that Westcrown's tyrants draw their forces. This city has no hope as long as we face a foe with limitless numbers."
Tristan shovels more food into his mouth before asking, "Cn they bih disuhbld smhow...?"
"Dispeled? No. But it can be dispersed - made unfocused."
"And you know how?"
"Yes. I believe so."
The scarred vigilante studies Aleixica.
"I take it you're interested?"
"I'm afraid my interests don't always seem to matter," Aleixica replies with a shrug. "But I'm here and it seems like the right thing to do."
Interested in ending this hell? Yes...I am interested. You can count me in.
"What's yer plan, stranger?"
"I will explain in the morning. There are things I need to check on tonight and you need rest. Can I trust you to stay alive until then?"
"I think we can manage that much at least," Aleixica says. "We seem to be safe in the safe house."
The Songbird nods and heads for the exit.
"Keep them safe Andre-"
He stops again awkwardly and without correcting himself, exits.
Bishop will take another look around.
Bishop's search confirms the earlier suspicions - the large glyph of the open road conceals a hidden doorway and it's definitely trapped.
In addition, he finds a smaller hidden glyph on the ceiling, beneath a layer of caked on grime. Fiddling with it, he finds a way to slide a section of the ceiling aside and a small container with a wand within falls out. Also within is a note, For tough times...
"What is it? Is it yours, Lucius?"
Lucius walks over to the glyph and respond to Aleixica No. Not mine.
"Ain't that peculiar. Can anyone figure out what it does?"
Tristan closes his eyes and mutters a few words. Upon opening them, the irises of his eyes turn black, reflecting a subtle, almost negligible use of magic.
After an uncomfortable/awkward night of rest, the morning finally comes and with it the Songbird returns. He gingerly carries a small bulging satchel into the safehouse with him and a wan elf follows on his heels. The scarred vigilante offers the sack to Aleixica and gestures to the elf.
”This is Silvio. He owes me a favor and if you hope to follow through with the plan, I believe his expertise will come in use. I’d rather not say how but I can guarantee he is trustworthy.”
”I trust you can do something with that?” he says while pointing toward the container he handed Aleixica (a sack of eggs). ”I don’t eat much these days…”
Silvio, a gaunt bald elf with a definite look of discomfort on his face, nods politely. "Pleasure to meet you lot and all. My dear friend here tells me at some length that you are in need of my particular brand of aid. He simply never stops talking, that one. I am, as he said, Silvio Gascon, entrepreneur in these troubled times in which we find ourselves. Is this one of those jobs where it is best no one know anyone else or are we all friends, braiding each other's hair and sharing heart-warming stories of love, redemption and the distances between us?"
Aleixica looks at the eggs. Then looks at the Songbird. Then looks at the magic food. Then looks at the eggs. Then back at the Songbird and then the magic food.
She smiles in a bit of confusion.
"I suppose I could try to scramble them, but I don't really cook. Desna usually just provides one way or another, I find."
"Howdy Silvio. It's a little inbetween around these parts. Name's Bishop."
"Bishop? Is that a name or a title?"
Aleixica thinks for a moment and then glances toward the dwarf, wondering if the former barkeep can cook.
"That's my name, I ain't got no fancy titles."
Distracted by the eggs from the newcomer's arrival, Aleixica gives him a wide, friendly smile. "Welcome to our ragged band of hideaways," she says. "Aleixica Tas'Vere."
Lucius walk over to the elf. Well met. He extends his hand to him. What is your skill set?
Silvio returns the handshake. "Oh you know, a little of this, a little of that. In this economy, an elf's got to be an entrepreneur, ready for any opportunity that presents itself. Mostly I procure specialized objects for discriminating clients, replicate necessary documents and cheat the blackhearted and blue-blooded. You know, the ordinary skill set." Silvio grins widely at this description, amusing himself if no one else.
"Sounds like you'll fit right in. Heh."
Amelia nods, "Aye girl, I'll throw something together".
The dwarven woman takes the satchel of eggs and starts to prepare a meal with the safehouse stove.
Once introductions are done (or mostly done), the Songbird unfurls a map of the city and looks to the group.
"What do you know about the fiends that claw at the sickly remains of Westcrown?"
"Don't look at them too long. Don't go out after dark. Don't get involved. Don't deal with them." Silvio recites, a litany of ways to avoid them.
"Not much," Aleixica says sheepishly. "I didn't really know I was coming here until it was too late to do anything about it, I guess you could say."
"Uh, shoot 'em till they stop movin'? Works for most things."