Pellius nods in appreciation as the elf gives him assistance with his task, singing the whole time.
When finished, as they head toward the unexplored room, he gives her a warm smile. "Thank you for that. It pains me to be having to tell our benefactor of this atrocity at all.. at the very least we can tell him that we have done our best to bring them some peace prior to a proper, consecrated burial."
Seeing the man shrug off his magics, the bard quietly thanks the goddess of beauty that Adonara could be so frightening. As the man drops the book, Pellius holds up a hand.
"Go, but it would be best if you did not remember seeing us. Better still if you found some reason to leave Kintargo." He smiles grimly at the man. "There are those among us with longer memories than mine." Nodding his head at the rest of his party, he transitions his hand motion from one of stopping to an elegant 'after you', directing him to the exit as he moves away from it, giving him a clear path.
Pointing toward the journal, he turns to Kira. "I defer scholastic matters of study to our resident scholar... at least the first crack at them. I do want to see if... well, if this," he gestures all around him, "was worth the pain and suffering it has caused and will cause."
So saying, Pellius begins to poke around the room and its attached offices, seeing if anything strikes him as having meaning or being worth salvaging.
Feeling the wrongness of the water in the vials, Pellius moves them to a desk and sets them down, wiping his hands on his pants afterwords as if they were somehow unclean. The scroll he hands to Adonara, giving her a smile as he does.
"Perhaps you could find use for this eventually." Finally finding a the book, he raises an eyebrow.
"'The History and Future of Humanity' huh." Seeing the inscription, he scratches his chin as he reads it outloud. "'Turn the eye to spell the name of the Master of Masters.' Where have I heard that before..."
Kira's quiet as they arrange the bodies. "Grant them sweet dreams, Starsong," she whispers as they leave. They're going to have to tell Rexus so they can give his parents a proper funeral, but...maybe they can leave out some of the details.
Lost in this train of thought and trailing behind the others, she almost doesn't see the Asmodean before Adonara's already intimidated him into leaving. She deliberately circles around Lodoro as he flees in a way that will (hopefully) keep him from glimpsing her face.
"Irori is the 'Master of Masters'." He might not be a god she particularly worships, but Aethilwald had made certain she at least knew the basics. "I'm not sure what eye it's referring to though."
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Seeing the man shrug off his magics, the bard quietly thanks the goddess of beauty that Adonara could be so frightening.
Adonara blinks in scornful surprise when her threat sends the devils’ clerk scurrying away. So much for wrath – or conviction, she thinks smugly. True, they were poor odds for the creature, and she wouldn’t be eager for martyrdom herself, but then she would also choose her boasts more carefully. And she is a professional, so it’s not just the raw force of her personality, after all.
At all events, she quickly joins the others in searching the room, her small satisfied smile glowing as she checks the remains of various offices. Stashing the scroll Pellius offers her away for the moment, she considers his findings and gives the room one last once-over.
“I presume Aroden’s,” she says, nodding at the book in Kira’s hands. It’s outside Adonara’s particular theological interests, but the Last Azlanti was, in some ways, considered the god of humanity once, at least around the Inner Sea, wasn’t he? “The Eye was carved on the chest of that statue you noticed was a bit … off.”
The courtesan’s survey of the room suffers from her evident nervousness, and despite her pleasure in her success in scaring off the lingering Asmodean, she suggests, “I hate to admit it, but eventually that idiot is likely to remember that there’s only one of me – begging the pardon of you all, or that even with all of us – but he’s a cog in the infernal machine that holds the city in Thrune and Hell’s fists, and they can probably throw more inquisitors and Hellknights and the like at us than we can just mow down at the moment. Goddess knows, if the statue conceals a secret space of some kind, it might hide something – or us – usefully for getting out of here before anyone realizes we were.”
Pellius frowns. "True, but it is equally possible that the man might take my advice and flee the city. Those same cogs in the infernal machine are likely to crush him to dust for failing to secure his objective here merely because a few locals showed up, regardless of our armament or number. The infernal one does not take to broken contracts well, and neither do his followers. As such, if I were him I would not stop running until I reached Andoran... perhaps not even then."
The singer smiles at the thought, though after the trials of the day it is lacking a bit of its normal warmth or enthusiasm.
"As for the statue, assuming it is the key to this inscription, I would sooner get whatever secrets it contains and be gone than to try to hide behind it. Our overlords have already demonstrated a willingness to burn potential thorns to the ground, after all." As he says this, Pellius' eyes inadvertently dart back to the room containing the remains of house Victocora.
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The morbid priestess considers Pellius’ words.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” she muses, relaxing a bit. Shows just how weird a tyrant’s mindset must be, I suppose, “but then what do I know of the thinking of Hell’s slaves? I’ll have to remember: ‘Shoot the messenger, and always blame the underling.’ And so on.”
The return of Adonara’s facetiousness marks the restoration of her mood, though she is rather mercurial at the best of times. “As to hiding, I did only mean in the short term, if there is something there and heavy boots come poking about. Besides, I’ve always wanted to see a … ‘priest hole,’ is that what they call them?”
Unless anyone has objections or notices something else, she’ll start drifting back to the statue, chattering gaily as she goes. “Something more elaborate. I mean, I’ve had reason to duck behind the drapery on occasion, and you’ll be surprised how often people ignore it. ‘Pay no attention to the woman behind the curtain!’ Well, unless that’s one preference. I know there are houses – but that’s really not my thing.”
Kira does indeed pick up the book and start flipping through it while they wander back to the statue. It helps distract her from the corpses of Rexus' parents. Not to mention the others...I wonder if Rexus knows them. Their families deserve closure.
She does look up at the discussion of hiding. "Whether that particular Asmodean comes back or not is almost irrelevant. He wasn't the only Asmodean here. Remember the corpse we saw, back near the spiders." She swallows hard. "We don't know how many others there may have been, how long they were here, or what they found."
"They clearly know this place is important. They animated the dead as guards, not just..." she gestures vaguely towards the corpses, "...but the creatures here as well. We can't assume that the sanctuary is still a safe place to hide, short term or otherwise. Once we've seen if there's anything or anyone left to rescue, we should leave as quickly as possible."
Back at the statue, she takes a closer look at the eye to see if it can indeed be turned in a way that would spell Irori's name.
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Adonara keeps thinking out loud while she joins the others in poking and prodding at the statue. Granted that they’re hardly dealing with the cream of the Prince of Hell’s servants, and, again, she has a hard time wrapping her head around the way Asmodeans think, but she can’t help but feel she’s missing something.
“You’re right,” she frowns, thoughtfully. “But why, though? If they’ve already swept through, why leave undead cluttering up a place where kids on a dare might come through, get in trouble, and invite some civic-minded adventurers’ attention? I thought Kintargans were like that, and I can’t be the only one who braved a few local legends in her youth... and the church of Asmodeus doesn’t like calling attention to inconvenient history.”
“If they only just made their move, they must be looking for something – maybe something particular?”
Adonara takes it as an omen as something clicks and the statue slides away. She steps lightly down the stairs revealed, drawing up short once she gets far enough down to see where they lead.
“Oh. My. Goddess,” she breathes, her surprise making her mask slip and revealing just how recently, in the grand scheme of things, she’s left her novitiate. The delighted light that the library sparks in her eyes isn’t absolutely extinguished as she realizes the state it’s in, but reduces to a baleful ember-like glow.
There’s no way the guardians of this place could have saved so much of it even if they realized a raid was coming, she thinks, keeping the thought to herself. She doesn’t want to upset Kira, even if her Infernal is almost to the point that she could follow along. The practicalities are the least of her worries.
Making sure her bladed whip is only a second from her hand, she tries to get a better sense of what happened here.
Pellius, momentarily distracted by Adonara's words, chuckles and smiles.
"That reminds me of a story all aspiring actors are told when they first start getting ready for performances at the theater. Say, Lodi... you tell it better than I do. Do you remember the story of the stage hand that wore the 'dark blue' pants instead of the black ones?"
Seeing the carnage, Pellius shakes his head.
"It would seem that our... fiendish 'friends'... may have found this place... or that the last defenders were wounded prior to their retreat." The singer points toward the blood and damage.
"Though, I suppose that if that is the case that they must not have had a chance to catalog what they found... too much is intact, after all." Seeing Kira, he gives the small woman a friendly smile. "Perhaps said defenders were able to fight to an exit, hence the delay."
He leaves unsaid his thoughts on the likelihood of that, given the resistance they faced upstairs... which, in retrospect, looked more and more like a crime scene guard left behind than an initial strike force. Turning her toward the rune, he gestures.
"Did your father or your professors ever do something like that? If so, will it hurt us if we get close?"
Pellius looks at the floating paper made of... paper... floating in the air in front of them and backs up three paces. Putting away his longsword, he draws his bow and brings an arrow out, though he does not yet draw it back.
"Assuming that is an illusion meant to scare off trespassers, it is doing a fine job with me. Any idea of what it is?"
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Hand dropping to the hilt of her weapon, Adonara answers cautiously without taking her eyes off whatever the strange thing is, “It’s nothing I’ve ever seen before, or can even remember reading about…”
Her eyes flicker briefly to Lodoro: he might be able to tell if the situation calls for smiting. She herself can better contribute against tyranny in particular and not evil in general, but even so she’s not an expert in diabolology.
"Its the dread Paper Monster!"
Lodoro says, then bursts out laughing
"What, are we going to suffer paper cuts?"
Kira's quite distracted as she looks around the remains of what must have been a beautiful library. "Perhaps that's why the Asmodeans still remained." Her voice is curiously flat. "They were completing their desecration of the sanctuary by removing the last of the knowledge from this place. No doubt to be burned, as they do with all knowledge that displeases them."
"I don't specifically recognize those runes, but-" Kira's words are cut off by the sudden appearance of the monster. "...I'd expect some sort of summoning spell," she finishes, that flat tone still in her voice. "Which apparently summmons a scrivenite."
Pellius sighs and puts the arrow back into its quiver.
"Well, sadly sonic is about all I can do magically, and my weapons might not be the most accurate but they are hardly chaotic in the magical sense. Still, perhaps we can reason with it?"
Turning to the creature, he puts away his bow and holds his hands in front of him in a placating gesture.
"Hello. We mean you no harm. We ask that you let us pass so that we may aid Kintargo in its time of need."
He says this in common first. Then celestial, shadowtongue, elven, halfling, strix, and in infernal.
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Adonara gives Lodoro the sort of stern look that only a librarian can manage, as his scoffing, and Kira’s recollections, stir just a bit of something in the priestess’ own memory, though she has to rely on the young gnome for the details.
“Of course! A scrivenite!” What she actually knows is less germane, but Adonara hisses – instinctively dropping into her library voice – a quick warning not to underestimate similar creatures and magic, “I’ve only heard about such things, but the sharp side of a parchment swarm is nothing to scorn. I wouldn’t be surprised if this lovely might be able to manage something similar.”
As Pellius begins to negotiate, the priestess moves her own hands pointedly away from her weapons, making a show of it with the flair for performance that both courtesans and clerics need. Since the creature was summoned from elsewhere, Adonara does suggest to the others, in her own this-worldly language of Elven and keeping her tone light, while waiting for the scrivenite’s response, “Well, then today is your lucky day, darling. I may not have prepared any fire magic, but chaotic blessings are my stock in trade.”
Her smile is briefly beatific, and she switches to Celestial to add her own mollifying words to the scrivenite, "Indeed, we are no friends to the vandals who dared desecrate this place."
She lightly lifts the holy symbol of her goddess through the opening of her tunic under her armour.
Pellius sighs at Yilliv's words. Still keeping his hands away from his weapons, he responds in whatever language the scrivenite understood.
"I was hoping that you were summoned here as a guardian by the original occupants. Perhaps there is something we can offer you in exchange for switching sides? We have managed to get through all the other guardians so summoned or left for similar purposes, after all. And unlike most of them, you actually have enough intelligence and decorum to speak to us rather than just attack on sight. Names and intelligence implies desires, dreams, goals... what can we provide you that would be worth your coming over to the winning side in this conflict?"
Pellius smiles and gives the papery creature a bow.
"We appreciate it, Yilliv. Thank you. We will attempt to be quick."
Turning to his friends, the singer says, "We should begin looking for whatever it is we hope to find here." His eyes dart to Kira, and then he amends, his statement with, "Well... what we hope to find under the current circumstances, anyway." His brow furrows in thought as he says this.
Maybe... just maybe...
"Yilliv? Would you mind answering a question? Did you happen to see an older male gnome here when you were summoned? If so, what became of him?"
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Adonara relaxes as it becomes clear that the animate papers – Yilliv, apparently – are amenable to conversation. She nods encouragingly at Pellius’ question, and adds, to sweeten the arrangement and coax the outsider along that little bit more, “Also, is there anything more you could tell us about how you were summoned here? If we can think of a way to break the binding, we will. Few of us have much skill in such magic, but we’ve already been able to send another unwilling servant of the mortal powers here back to her own home peacefully.”
“You may be sure,” she says, her tone formal but the slightest hint of playfulness behind the words themselves, “that liberation from every kind of chain is something of a sacred duty to me.”
"Thank you, Yilliv." Kira offers her best formal bow. "If there is anything we can do to assist you in getting out of your contract, please let us know."
"Can you...Yilliv, do you know if there is anyone here who isn't an Asmodean?" Kira looks to the others. "I want to help, and I want to stop the Asmodeans from" desecrating this place "finding whatever it is they're looking for, but can we handle eleven enemies? Not that I don't have faith in your abilities, it's just... She trails off.
The information left here may be the only clue she gets as to her father's fate. But if he was here, he's almost certainly as dead as Rexus' parents. The possibility of closure isn't worth her friends' lives.
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Adonara takes a closer look at the wreckage of the library as she considers the situation. That does sound like quite the undertaking. Assorted skirmishers, a hell hound, and two heavier combatants, one of whom has an inconvenient link to a barbazu? And if our new friend here is unable to betray the details of the summoner who's presumably in charge…
Aloud, she tries to muster any possible advantage. “If they’re that sort of monk, show of virtuous humility and all that –” her own luxurious streak does not so much slip out as wink cheekily “– they’re likely to be less armoured and more mobile, but we might be able to take back the advantage in doorways and narrower passages, especially if they’ve split up. And, unlike zombies, they shouldn’t resist arrows and bolts as easily.”
“Alternatively, if we can barricade the way forward somehow, we might be able to get a bit of rest, with at least a bit of warning if the unwanted guests get bored and try to turn back before we do. I don’t think, though, that we should leave ourselves before we set Thrune’s dogsbodies in as much disarray as we can without getting our noses bloodied too badly, if at all possible.”
Pellius shakes his head.
"We shouldn't be just staying around here. There is too much likelihood that we rest up, only to find their reinforcements cutting off our exit. We should press forward now and see what... possibly who... we can still save. Either that, or we should cut our losses now and withdraw. I like that option less... too many variables on what our foes might learn, destroy, disable. I will not force us to move on, mind you... but I think it the best course of action."
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“I agree,” the priestess avers, the quiet hiss of a foot or so of her weapon’s length coiling and uncoiling in her hands the strongest hint of any unspoken concerns that might trouble her. Even so, she does her best to convey confidence in her bearing overall, putting just a bit more of a sultry slink into her step as she moves through the mess, eyes open for any sign of where the other intruders might have got to. “It might be an idea to stay close: I don’t mind scouting ahead, but there’s only so much I can do to keep any Asmodeans off-balance on my own once I make contact.”
As she goes, her glance flickers blandly over her shoulder at the scrivenite once more. “In the interests of avoiding any unpleasant surprises, merely, Yilliv, just in case we find ourselves having to withdraw sooner and more expeditiously than we might wish, would you be able to defy a direct command to stop us from the Asmodeans still here?”
The carelessness of the gesture makes it clear that Adonara isn’t accusing the bound outsider of duplicity, only addressing the possible ramifications of the situation perhaps somewhat bluntly.
Kira takes a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. Then she nods. "I may be running low on spells but I can help with scouting. We'll go as far as we can."
Pellius thinks a moment before raising a hand. "Wait. Why don't we try what we did with the prison? Given we know who is here and roughly where they are... and given they likely would be expecting additional forces to show up..." He turns to Kira, "perhaps we can get a bit more information without having to turn this into a bloodbath. What do you think, up to reprising your old role or should that pass to Adonara this time around?"
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Adonara raises an expressive brow. “It’s a lovely idea, and I’ll defer to your judgements as to the distribution of roles, but I would like to point out, first, that while I can sing a bit, and dance, I’m not much for the deceptive theatrical arts and, secondly, unlike the prison escapade, as far as we know, there’s not another exit for us to create.”
“Which is to say, unless we can convince this batch that we’re here to relieve them outright, or keep the masks from slipping until we’ve satisfied our curiosity and removed ourselves, we may end up with a bloodbath regardless. If we do decide on impersonation, we might still be able to send someone to scout ahead, playing the part – if she can’t escape notice – of the regrettably independent, if admirably discreet and zealous, bodyguard. I’ll leave it up to Kira if she’d prefer the role of shadow or of tyrant.”
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While the others discuss the options, Adonara idles deliberately about the wreckage, partly for show, but mainly out of interest. She switches between mundane senses and cantrips to detect magic as she browses the ruined shelves, indulging her magpie eye to keep from being overwhelmed by the likely loss the state of the library suggests – she doubts the lord mayor Thrune is merely gratifying a breathtakingly larcenous appetite for literature, no matter how interested in Chelish history rumour has him.
She’s not proud of how easily she can wrestle sentiment down to the ground as she collects even a handful of loose gilt pages, knowing the gold can be scraped, trimmed, or even soaked off (given the right alchemical reagents), but that doesn’t stop her. After all, if by some miracle the pages can be restored to their sources, the loss of some metal-leaf adornment will be a minor inconvenience in comparison to the pages’ current state.
Among the scrolls and less prepossessing scraps Adonara ends up leafing through, an unexpected bit of Elven script quickly secures her attention. A quick look further confirms that the note’s author could benefit from some guidance as to the virtue of discretion in committing confidences to writing, since even a cursory glance allows the courtesan to determine that the author is in communication with the Archivists, a current student of Lady Docur’s School, and is named…
She’ll certainly want this back, under the circumstances. If her sympathies lie in the Sacred Order’s direction, I wonder if we could convince her that we new Ravens are also a - or still more - suitable group to work with? Not raided yet, at least.
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Adonara wanders back as Pellius offers some refinements to the plan. Stashing the last of the latest treasures away, she nods and repeats her understanding of what the singer’s suggesting. “Right. So I’ll try sneaking a stone’s throw ahead, and signal if I find these infernal monks. If they spot me, I’ll announce the arrival of Lady So-and-so leading reinforcements to secure the area, &c. Otherwise, I’ll put in my appearance when you all arrive, as our fearless leader’s menacing and watchful shadow – let them worry about whether they’re already being watched and tested.”
Her eyes sparkle with mischief, and with that, she hurries to get her headstart down the hall leading out of the ruined library, slinking into the shadows beyond the group’s lights.
Kira nods slowly. "I'll...I guess I can try." She forces a smile. "Hopefully it will go as well as it did before."
She starts moving forward, not particularly trying to be stealthy. A noble Asmodean woman would have no reason to be. Instead she keeps an eye out for anyone that they could potentially convince. If she sees one...
"Excuse me. Where is your commander? Our group is supposed to take over guarding this place."
Before they leave, Pellius grabs nine of the gilt pages and the page of the song, carefully placing them inside his pack. After a moment's thought, he also adds the bookplate, magnifying glass, and book mark. The scrolls and other sundry items he leaves for his companions to claim or leave as they will.
The tenth he spends a few moments turning into an "official" order from Lord Thrune charging their band to take possession of the establishment and establish a new Chelish Citizens Group secret informant ring within the lower levels.
"My lady, you mustn't sully your voice with them. They are as beneath you as the valleys are the mountains." Turning to the person, he glares. "You. Get your people and get out. You are making a mess of the place and the longer you remain, the less 'secret' this place becomes."
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Adonara pads ahead, turning the smile that tugs at her lips into what she hopes is a sinister smirk to match the confidence expected of the underlings of such supremely self-assured individuals as Kira and Pellius’ personae. She keeps hugging the shadows, letting the pair’s voices ringing off the underground library’s walls announce them, but ready to step forward to add what little sinister flourish she can once the Asmodeans hear her or them.