Amadea shouts, "Down on the ground, NOW! while pointing her bow at the last remaining priest. If he hesitates for a second, or takes any aggressive action, she looses the arrow at him.
The priest immediately drops to his knees without regard for the fact he's standing on stairs, which results in a headlong pitch-forward that winds up with him, appropriately, on the ground.
His only verbal response is a whimper.
"Tie 'em up," Drosk recommends as he moves to check on the fallen priests. "Bolkin, Garik, secure th' door an' make sure none o' them other hooligans get in. Let me see if I can keep these from dyin' so they can answer some questions. Then I'll see t' healin th' rest o' ye."
"You got it." Garik nods, moving over to do so.
Amadea stands by, ready with her bow, while Garik ties the captives, just in case any should try to escape.
"Don't forget to gag them. We don't know if any of them are casters."
After Drosk's ministrations, the priest Garik felled is still frightfully pale, but seems like he'll live. Tying him and his still-conscious companion up is easy. The only barrier to binding Egarthis is the look of sheer malice on the man's stern features. This is somewhat alleviated by the addition of a gag.
Curiously, the doors, manned dutifully by Bolkin, are not assaulted, even though it's hard to imagine those that went through failed to notice the commotion upstairs, with raging dwarves and baying hounds.
Torag's aid is a welcome relief to the party, torn and seared flesh flowing back to its natural state, flushing red with a pleasant heat.
The current head of the local cult and two of his lackeys lay unconscious on the steps, awaiting interrogation.
"We'd better search 'em good 'fore we wake 'em up. Wouldn't surprise me if this Egarthis fella's got some nasty surprises on 'im - wouldn't want 'im pullin' any tricks an' gettin' loose now."
A thorough search indicates little that would have done the prisoners much good. None of the lower priests have anything more than their standard equipment, but Egarthis has three significant magic items - a brooch, a ring, and a wand. It seems he used any tricks he had during the fight - that collar that summoned the hounds comes to mind - or simply didn't have time to collect them.
There are also two potions of cure moderate wounds and a potion of cure light wounds scattered amongst the fallen.
"Looks like 'is ring, brooch, an' wand 're magical - some type o' protective magics. Wish Raven was here," Drosk announces to the group.
"Guess we'll have t' wake 'im up if we're gonna find out where Iramine went."
Once she is certain that the "clerics" are firmly bound, Amadea approaches their leader, Egarthis, and revives him with a laying on of hands. She'll leave his gag in place, and have him on his stomach, with his hands tied behind his back. Her sword is held at the ready, but back far enough that he could not end himself upon it, were he to try.
Egarthis is quick to come around, and seems to assess the situation just as rapidly. He gives a cursory struggle against his bonds, awkwardly surveys the room as best he can from the ground, and glares at Amadea, his pale green eyes making it more than clear that, if he could, he would be spitting at her.
He does manage to make some sort of noise around his gag, though anything he was attempting to communicate is completely lost.
"Don't move, false priest. We have questions for you, and we would have them answered. Your followers here have been routed and fled; your kind inspire no loyalty in their fellows. I am going to remove your gag so that you can speak with us. If you cooperate, no harm will come to you. If you attempt to attack us with magic, we will be forced to end you. Do you understand?"
Amadea has an arrow set to the string on her bow, though she has not yet drawn it back. She crouches where the man can see her, but not so close that he would be able to reach her.
The priest takes a moment, at least putting on the act of giving the non-choice a consideration, and nods once.
Drosk stands where the false priest can see him, tapping his warhammer against his hand to signal that he's ready to use it against the bound man if needed. He nods to Amadea to continue.
With his gag removed, Egarthis becomes all hate and venom, launching into a tirade before anyone can begin to interrogate them.
"What purpose have you in doing this? Is it some crusade against our god? Your crimes here will not soon be forgiven by the city watch!" Despite his imperious tone, it seems even Egarthis does not truly believe that his church will be found to be in the right, not once what happens behind closed doors comes to light.
"Am I alive because of some mercy, or do you actually need something from me? Perhaps the High Priestess? You seek to eliminate us when she is out, then perhaps spring a trap upon her return?" One can almost see the wheels turning in the schemer's head.
"Your voice quavers and you cannot even force yourself to believe your own lies, can you? We are not crusading against your god, only against men who would exploit the people they claim to be serving. Your servants told us what it is you have been doing here; robbing the people you claim to be watching out for, beating your acolytes for questioning your vile tactics. You are lucky it is I that am questioning, and not one of my fellows. I believe that anyone can be be saved, I doubt they feel the same, nor as are inclined to be merciful I might be. Cooperate with me and you will continue to deal with me. Spurn me, and I will leave you to them."
"You only have one chance at this, so think long before answering. I would return your ill gotten gains to the people you have robbed; where are the valuables you have purloined?"
"You've got that right," Morthos mutters, "If you change your mind, I would still be happy to finish him off... or hand him over to some of his 'beloved' acolytes. I am sure they would treat him with due reverence!"
"Your voice quavers and you cannot even force yourself to believe your own lies, can you? We are not crusading against your god, only against men who would exploit the people they claim to be serving. Your servants told us what it is you have been doing here; robbing the people you claim to be watching out for, beating your acolytes for questioning your vile tactics. You are lucky it is I that am questioning, and not one of my fellows. I believe that anyone can be be saved, I doubt they feel the same, nor as are inclined to be merciful I might be. Cooperate with me and you will continue to deal with me. Spurn me, and I will leave you to them."
Garik looks to the Egarthis as she finishes. As he nearly begins to add his two cents, he stops. Staring off into the distance he raises an eyebrow in thought and shrugs. "Ya know, lad, there's really not anythin' I can add ta that. I've gotta say, that's a fairly good way ta sum it up, lass." He tells Amadea as a smile forms. As he returns his attention to the priest, he leans in close, "I've got ta tell ya, she normally doesn't speak so harshly. It's a bit spooky if ya ask me. Handy, mind ya, but spooky. Makes me glad she be on my side." He nods quite affirmatively as he moves away and begins chewing on his nails as he waits for the interrogation to end.
Egarthis glares for a while, then sucks in air through his teeth. "You're right. There's no point in continuing the charade; it was only through coercion, bribes - Tamran's own corruption - that we could act as we did. Now, everything exposed - well, the system will do its work. I grew careless, letting a group this large in without carefully observing them first. I daresay," he says with a mirthless chuckle, "I deserve my fate. Lady Iramine would be displeased."
He looks at Morthos, and sneers. "There are three kinds of acolytes - the loyal, whom have fallen, the meek, who will raise no hand against me, and those who did not fully comprehend Razmir's teachings and fled for personal safety. In any case," he continues with a grim smile, "I regret only that I was caught. I will help you, where I am able, of course - I know when I am beaten. For that same reason, I think, you won't be mistreating me too badly."
"Much of what we took was sent to Razmiran, but there is a treasury hidden within the temple. I can show you to it, but I am afraid I do not have the keys to the chests; Iramine trusted only herself with the key to the treasury." He shifts a bit, fruitlessly seeking to make himself a tiny bit more comfortable, and adds, "If there is anything else you wish to know, all you must do is ask."
Amadea is apt to believe that everyone is capable of atonement, and that when confronted with the misdeeds of their life, are capable of asking forgiveness and turning over a new leaf. Even though, she is forced to ask herself if one being suddenly so cooperative is being truthful, or merely trying to play her.
"Tell us of your mistress. Who is Iramine, where has she gone, and when does she return?"
"Well? I thought you were going to cooperate? Changed your mind? I can change mine as well, if that's the case."
"I am only reluctant to share what I know insofar that Iramine would likely be cross with me. I'm sure you'll find out, anyway; there's documentation. As for your other questions... Iramine is the High Priestess of this temple. She founded this it, with the blessings of the church, and most of our policies were her own ideas, so have no illusions about the nature of the woman you're dealing with."
He pauses a moment to take a breath. "I'm afraid I don't know anything about her past; but she is an elf, and an old one, I believe. And she's absolutely ruthless. She spent a great deal of our resources - perhaps too many, even for her station - on acquiring some amulet. She believes it opens some treasure vault on the Isle of Terror. She wouldn't take that risk without being certain. She set out just a few days ago."
"As for her return..." he shrugs. "She... May not. It's an uncertain venture, in any case." He lapses into silence, and seems to be looking somewhere far away.
"She has gone to this 'Isle of Terror' now, to open up this vault? Where is the island and how would we get there? What is there about this that you are still not telling us?
Egarthis gives the half-orc a quizzical look. "The Isle of Terror. It lies at the center of Lake Encarthan, surrounded by torrential seas and storms, plagued by undead. It's a deathtrap, but apparently there lies an ancient city and its riches. If you wish to get there, you'll have to find an incredibly stupid or foolish boat captain, I imagine."
He looks away and adds, "I only hold back on personal matters that are of no concern to you. Suffice it to say any... illusions I have about my relationship with the High Priestess have been quite thoroughly shattered." He looks back, his mien a little softer, and adds, "It would be in both our interests for you to let the matter lie, in any case. Going to the Isle of Terror is suicide; chasing Iramine there even moreso."
"So, Iramine has gone to this Isle of Terror to pursue some ancient treasure, taking the medallion with her. She will either parish in the attempt, leaving the amulet there with her corpse, or succeed, and presumably be that much more powerful when she returns, due to whatever artifacts she uncovers."
Amadea looks at her companions, "So, what should we do?"
Morthos sighs.
"Right now, although I would be happy to finish off every one of these idiots, I am reluctantly forced to think we should go over this place with a fine tooth comb, turn over anything 'interesting' we find to the local authorities, and shut this place down, peacefully.
Of course, I will be happy to put any idiots who *don't* stand down into the ground..."
"I'm agreein' with Morthos," Drosk speaks up after carefully considering Egarthis' words. "Let's clear this place out an' take any evidence o' their wrongdoin' t' Reginar an' th' proper authorities."
Pulling Amadea to the side while the other companions keep a close eye on Egarthis, Drosk adds in a softer voice, "I'm hopin' once we get a chance t' go through Iramine's things, we might find some clues as t' how she plans t' get t' this Isle o' Terror he's goin' on about. Maybe Cap'n Walgren'll be willin' t' take us out there."
"Agreed. Lets call in the proper authorities and have these thieves arrested."
"You!" she says, poking Egarthis with an arrow tip, "Where are Iramine's quarters?"
"Up the stairs and through the two sets of double doors; it's difficult to miss," Egarthis replies. "I sincerely do not know if Iramine has any traps in there, but there is one in the Herald's quarters. The password is 'money and power'. Or you can take me with you, if you still don't trust me."
The party makes their way up the stairs, Egarthis in tow. At the top of the stairs is an unsettling yet undeniably beautiful stained glass window depicting a golden mask, not dissimilar to the ones the cultists wear but markedly more ornate.
Opposite the grand mask stands a pair of tall double doors, made from shining silver. Carved into their surface is the symbol of Razmir, beneath which dozens of supplicants are portrayed holding up piles of coins, jewels, and other wealth to the icon of the Living God.
Egarthis indicates the specific key that opens the doors and warns that touching the door without it will set off a magical trap. The room beyond has many doors, three on each side and a pair of double doors opposite the entrance. In the center of the chamber, a twostep dais serves as a base for a sculpture made up of dozens of masks, carefully forged into a humanoid shape. Quite suddenly, a voice booms out from the chamber asking, “Who are the true gods?” Just as suddenly as the voice came, all is silent.
Egarthis replies, "Money and power." He then gestures to the double doors. "Those are Iramine's quarters. Unlocked, and untrapped, as far as I know. I haven't been inside since she left."
Within, a large plush bed on the south wall, facing a carved oak desk on the north side, furnishes the large and opulently decorated quarters of the priestess. In the center of the room, a large carpet, woven with the mask of the Razmir at its center, spreads across the floor.
A bedside table holds a whip and a few bottles of spirits and perfume. The desk is clean, but the bookcase over the working area seems likely to have evidence. There are a few drawers in the desk as well.
Morthos glances around the room with thinly veiled disdain.
"Apparently, the life of a humble cleric can be quite satisfying..."
"There's no denyin' that." Garik says as he admires the room, impressed with how fancy it is.
As Morthos and Garik examine the room, at first little seems to be out of place. The liquor proves to be Andoren brandy - perhaps not tailored to the dwarven palate, but still the sort that commands a price in keeping with the rest of the room.
Garik systematically checks the desk drawers, finding little more than parchment and quills until he reaches the last one at the bottom right, which proves to be locked. No keys from the various rings they've acquired fit; it's likely that Iramine is the only one with a copy. Without Telperion's deft hands the lock is unlikely to be defeated, but the desk probably can't withstand even a mild clobbering.
Morthos turns his attentions to the bookshelf, and after pulling out a few volumes realizes that some rows are double-stacked. A thorough search uncovers three ledgers hidden the back row - they catch the eye, seeming to be the best shot at some hard evidence of the cult's doings.
The first is a sort of accounting ledger, dictating every copper piece brought into the temple as well as its method of acquisition. Amongst actual donations, alms, and the like are several less savory means of income. Protection rackets, blackmail, drugs, and even slave trafficking - all illegal in Nirmathas.
The second is even more damning, as it accounts for all of the cult's expenditures. Amongst standard entries are numerous purchases of illegal goods and, most telling, several bribes to city officials and watchmen. With the amount of money going through the organization, it's not surprising, though disappointing, how they were able to operate like this. As Egarthis had said, much of the money was sent back to Razmiran as tribute to the Living God.
For Bolkin, Garik, and Drosk, the third ledger is a little like reliving the past. It contains detailed notes about the expedition in the Crypt of the Everflame, including the recruiting of several outsiders - the zombies whose ultimate fate came at the group's own hands - the theft of Kassen and Asar's amulets, and a final note confirming what Egarthis had said.
Now that I have the completed amulet, I shall return to the City of Golden Death to finish what was started all those years ago. At the time, I thought Kassen was a fool for insisting that we abandon such wealth, but now I must thank him. The treasure shall enrich the Living God, so that he will never die. Such is the price of immortality. Now I must return to the Isle of Terror, and I cannot say that my journey will be without terrible danger. May Razmir protect me.
It seems that, whatever her character in Kassen's time, Iramine has given herself entirely to the Cult of the Living God.
The corruption doesn't seem to be widespread - with the truth brought to light, several heads will roll, at least metaphorically. Tamran will be a better place without this cult operating within it.
Although not good Dwarven stuff, Morthos still happily squirrels away brandy for later sampling.
Although accounting is not his strong suit, when he is walked through the ledgers, he gives a sigh of satisfaction.
"This is *exactly* the sort of evidence that we needed. There must be *some* of their ill-gotten gains left here, though... they can't have disposed of all of it... Where in the Abyss is their vault?"
Morthos listens with interest when the journal, with details about where the leader has gone (and why!) comes to light.
"That... definitely sounds interesting. We can't let them have it! (I certainly would not complain if we did, though...)"
"I canno' get in this drawer. She's locked. I could bust her open if needin' be. Might break somethin' though," he shrugs as he moves on.
As they go over everything else they find, "Seems ta me we be needin' to stop this gal and her amulet. Else, we've got some mad deity runnin' loose, never dyin', eatin' everyone, drinkin' their blood, using their bones as toothpicks, laughin' at 'em, callin' 'em names, tellin' 'em they're no bett'r than the mud on his bum..." Garik immediately stops, realizing his probably gotten a bit carried away. "Ya know, all that stuff. I mean, c'mon, he lives on a place named the 'Isle of Terror'."
Drosk moves over to examine the desk drawer with Garik. "Ah well. Can't be helped, then," the dwarf priest mutters. Drosk takes a deep breath and clenches his fists, which suddenly take on the hue and luster of tempered steel. With an explosive exhalation of breath he strikes at the lock with both of his now-metal fists.
Morthos grins as he sees Drosk take action.
"I like the way you work!"
"Well, I am Braggar's nephew," Drosk grins back.
Amadea stands to the side, to see what is revealed when Drosk finishes forcing the lock.
"Anything of value we find should be turned in to the authorities; either that, or redistributed back to the poor folk who were tricked out of their belongings or outright robbed by these fiends."
Amadea stands to the side, to see what is revealed when Drosk finishes forcing the lock.
"Anything of value we find should be turned in to the authorities; either that, or redistributed back to the poor folk who were tricked out of their belongings or outright robbed by these fiends."
Garik ponders that a moment as he scratches the back of his head before shrugging. "Sounds fine ta me. I'm not really for carin'."
Drosk's first bash just mars the wood, but the second neatly pops the desk's frame, and the rest is easily pried away, bypassing the lock. Within is a leather pouch overflowing with platinum pieces (50 in total), a small, clear glass bottle containing a transparent liquid, and an intricate silver figurine of a raven.
Egarthis, slumped morosely against the wall, lets out a dry laugh at Amadea's comment. "Turn it over to the watch and who knows where it'll go; they were certainly receptive enough to us."