"For f!@%'s sake, any clearer and we'd all be broken to pieces," Ryker complains, massaging his ears. At least we didn't have to kill her, that'd be messy. Not to mention we'd probably get hunted by her church or something. Damn my head hurts.
With danger averted, as far as he can tell, he takes a seat and just holds his head.
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Kira lowers her own hands from her ears. ”That was...wow.” She laughs shakily. ”I guess you have to be able to sing that loud for everyone in a theater to hear you. Balgorrah never stood a chance.” She shakes her own head to clear it, then moves to Adonara’s side.
”Adonara? Are you okay? I hope I didn’t hurt you, the spell isn’t supposed to hurt but I guess you might have hit your head or something, I can heal you if you’re hurt.”
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Adonara comes to after a frightening moment of blindness and prone immobility, to the accompaniment of … some sort of defiant Celestial song? The part of her that has been trained never to pass up any opportunity for wicked witticism considers that if she’s dead, there must have been some mistake, because it sounds much more like what she imagines Heaven's like than Elysium, where she belongs. Overwhelmingly, though, what Adonara’s mind registers is that Balgorrah is no longer raising hell in her own head, and that tears of mingled shame, anger, and powerlessness are starting to trickle down her cheeks.
The effect is appalling as she checks gingerly for bruises while getting up, before trying to reassure Kira, “Mortified, and probably bumped around a bit, but I think I’ll be alright. Thank you for stopping me before …”
She’s not sure how to finish that thought.
She takes a moment to collect herself, feeling almost as shattered as – That’s truly awe-inspiring singing. Pellius has a gift. But Adonara’s gaze hardens once more as it lands on Wex, another brittle, sharp smile emerging again despite her tears. If she looks all the more slightly unhinged for it, so much the better, she supposes, and she stoops in front of the prisoner and asks, softly, “How long?”
Haetamon agrees and elects to send the pieces separately in lead boxes.
As Balgorrah shatters Wex lets out a mighty scream and then goes silent. It appears as if his mind is completely broken.
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Pellius looks at the now drooling form of Wex. "Well... it seems any... remaining questions are now likely moot." The somewhat hoarse singer sighs and turns to Adonara.
"Glad to see you... as you again. And sorry again... about trying to force your will. I just... didn't want you... to end up..." the singer trails off as he gestures to the broken tinker before them. "... like that...."
He shakes his head and walks away from the broken form of a man. Mustering just enough spittle, he spits on one of the broken pieces of the cursed blade.
"May you never be reassembled. May your God suffer a similar fate."
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Before Adonara can really get her gloves off for a proper interrogation, a closer look reveals that Wex isn’t being deliberately uncooperative. There’s a certain grim satisfaction in seeing him like this, given what Balgorrah’s just put her through, but the courtesan isn’t quite so cruel as to say so (at least given her current audience), and twisting the conversational knife now would just be pointless, so she changes tack.
Her features only soften marginally, from adamant to steel, but her words are comparatively gentle, “If you can hear any of this, take comfort in the limits to the advantage I’m willing to press. No trickery from you now, though! Unless you ask nicely and cooperate, well, look at it from our point of view. The most merciful thing we can reasonably do is let our friend have his way with your mind in turn."
She lets that sink in, then piously offers up, "May the Savored Sting be satisfied, now and always.”
She turns to the others, clearly having drawn her own conclusions. “I’m not an arcanist, and miracles of this sort did not feature heavily in my training, however … I think this is as close to a confession as we’re likely to get now. To react so strongly to losing Balgorrah, rather than being relieved… Well. And I do know – theoretically, of course – how difficult it is to restore a mind through magic. Until there’s any hope of that, we might as well bury what’s left as deep as we can, in case there’s still any lingering malice left.”
She focuses on Haetamon, next, asking, “Can your magic still take hold, or your friends take him like this?”
Whoa, that's not quite what I thought would happen to Wex. I don't know what I did expect, but... THAT wasn't it. The thrumming in his head subsiding, Ryker stands and toes the hilt of Balgorrah. "Is it safe to touch now? I'm no expert on this sort of thing, but splitting up the pieces seems wise, if nothing else. Whether through burying, as you said, or whatever other options there are. Melting the blade, maybe?"
Hands on his hips, he looks to Haetamon for his response. What a fine mess we've made!
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"I'd think it would be safe to touch now that it's in pieces, but I can't be certain." Kira certainly has no intention of taking that chance.
(Not that she could do much harm with it if she did; unless it could force her to cast she'd be more likely to cut herself than anyone else.)
"Lead boxes seems like a good idea. At least for the blade." She shivers and wraps her arms around herself as she looks sadly at Wex. "I suppose now we'll never know how responsible he actually was. Do you think he has any family? If so, we should try to notify them somehow. Even if we can't tell them the truth. It wouldn't be right to just leave them wondering."
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Whoa, that's not quite what I thought would happen to Wex. I don't know what I did expect, but... THAT wasn't it. The thrumming in his head subsiding, Ryker stands and toes the hilt of Balgorrah. "Is it safe to touch now? I'm no expert on this sort of thing, but splitting up the pieces seems wise, if nothing else. Whether through burying, as you said, or whatever other options there are. Melting the blade, maybe?"
Hands on his hips, he looks to Haetamon for his response. What a fine mess we've made!
“I meant what’s left of Wex’s murderous instincts,” Adonara clarifies, finally pulling herself together as she draws a hand across her exhausted features. “If he’s so much the worse for losing Balgorrah, if we can restore even an ounce of sense in him by altering his memories, sending him off to Haetamon’s friends wouldn’t be any worse than leaving him like this until we can find a cure and have to decide what to do all over again. As for the blade itself, I’ll defer in that too to those with more skill in magic.”
She thinks for a bit. “If they can cast it into the planes from Andoran, it needn’t be the same one for each of the pieces, surely? Let the currents of the Maelstrom take one, and the pits of Hell and the Abyss the others, for aught I know. Far from any of us, anyway.”
She begins to perk up a bit as Kira’s concerns give her some kinder skullduggery to think about. “We could probably count on his fellow guild-members to know, and to get the word out. I thought I’d go back anyway with a bit of pin money, and it would simple enough to focus on useful truths. Say we found signs he was attacked by a mad cultist, and that we fear the worst – that at best he might have fled the city in abject fear for his safety.”
"I don't think that he has anything left to salvage at this point. Implanting false memories might be the only thing left we can do for him. Well, besides deciding he deserves execution... but given it is readily apparent from his reaction to the blade's breaking that he was more the vessel for its will instead of the other way around... I am inclined to pardon him."
He turns back to the blade. "I would not touch it without gloves... or tongs. Personally I would not touch it period. As for its fate, so long as it is broken and separated for a few millennia I will be content."
Haetamon uses mage hand to put the shars of Balgorrah into seperate lead boxes.
"I will take him to a retreat far from here, now I realise what that evil thing did to him I feel sorry for him."
Haetamon leads Wex away, carrying the boxes and you head back to the Coffee House to discuss your next moves.
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Adonara gratefully watches Haetamon pick up the pieces – physical and mental – and take his leave. As much as she’s rather curious about the spells he’ll use to try to calm Wex, she knows they’ll likely be beyond her for quite some time, given her dilettantism, and, as her own internal use of euphemism suggests, she finds it a weight of responsibility that rivals that of taking a life in more conventional ways.
With that thought, Adonara catches Pellius’ eye. “I am sorry,” she says simply, holding his gaze to convey the sincerity of her feeling.
After the moment passes, she’s finally back to her normal self, at least outwardly. Privately, she’s already decided that she’s going to spend her night in even more intense prayer and meditation than usual, lying alone rather than going on the prowl to share her goddess’ gifts. That was too close. Too much like the raid, being blindsided and losing… Unquenchable Fire, help me burn brighter. Stronger.
What she says aloud, cheerfully, is, “I was entirely in earnest, you know. If ever you find yourself vexed by an unwelcome intelligence, I will gladly repay the favour by a soothing enchantment, if I have one to hand.”
With that, she glides gracefully after the others towards the coffee house to regroup.
* * *
It’s a sign of just how wound-up Adonara got that a strong cup of coffee or two is relaxing, rather than keying her up still higher. After she collects her second cup, adding extra sugar and cream for a change, she flirts and gossips her way back to the group’s table, where she settles discreetly with her little black book, double-checking the latest against who and what she knows surrounding their likely next stop, what’s left of the Lucky Bones.
"Take care with those, good sir. And with him."
On their way back to the coffee house, Pellius quietly speaks to Valekar.
"My apologies about yelling at you earlier. I had to sell it, in case we were being watched. Adonara and Kira are used to having to deal with my operatic... eccentricities... so I sometimes forget that not everyone is used to them."
He smiles and switches to common. "When we get back home you will have to get Kira to tell the story of our first attempt at such fun. Suffice to say, I learned a lot that day." He gives the gnome the kind of warm smile reserved for good friends.
As Haetamon prepares to leave Kira briefly stops him. Quietly, she tells Wex, "I'm very sorry for what happened to you. I know you probably can't understand me, but I pray that the North Star will guide your way back home." She bows her head and clutches her pendant for a moment, then nods to Haetamon. "Thank you for taking care of him. And the shards of Balgorrah. Let us know if you ever need our help."
She's quiet and pensive on the way back, and asks Laria for a cup of tea rather than coffee. She doesn't want to deal with the caffeine right now. Settling down with a sigh, she says, "I suppose that could have gone worse, but a nasty business all around. At least Balgorrah shouldn't be able to haunt anyone ever again."
Ryker sits heavily in a chair once they arrive at the coffee house. "Something stiff, please," he asks the bartender, taking whatever they've got close at hand. He swirls the drink a little, the grit from the bottom of the class creating a mini duststorm. We just bagged a serial killer... Now what?
He drinks the whole thing in one go. "How is everyone doing? That was a rough little spell we just rolled through. Even... even for me," he admits. It actually feels kind of good to have rid that kind of Evil from Kintargo. Never felt anything like it.
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Adonara shudders a bit as she looks up from her notebook. Briefly meeting the glance of one of the people she chatted with briefly at the counter while getting her coffee, across and over her own table, she quirks her brow, trying to make her movement a just ever so slightly suggestive wiggle instead, but her heart isn’t in it. Still, maybe they’ll remember something useful and be moved to share.
In the meantime, Adonara turns to Ryker’s question. “I’ve had worse, but only just,” the courtesan admits quietly. “I’ve only ever seen a full-blown domination spell once before, amid a thicket of charms, and while I wasn’t important enough for any of them, even so I only survived by the grace of the goddess, and I - I…” had my dearest companion, my sister soul, stolen from me.
“Suffice it to say that it made me the woman I am today.” She shakes off old memories for the moment with something that, exceptionally, shoots past even the sharpest, tightest smile into an outright grimace. She returns to the present, and forces some uneasy, biting humour. “At all events, thank you, everyone, for this afternoon. I don’t think that thing could have held me for long, or to a full murderous spree as such, as opposed to inducing me to escape and protect it. I do have some principles.”
She turns to Ryker and Valekar especially, who are least likely to ever have restraining enchantments available. “But, if ever I’m at risk again of doing any of you, or an innocent, serious harm, and magic doesn’t seem to be holding me back, please knock me on the head or the like. Preferably with the flat of the blade, of course.”
Pellius gets a cup of tea with a few spices thrown in it and sips it gingerly. As he does he quietly does a few vocal exercises.
"Sorry if this bothers anyone. It has been a while since I have had to give that... harsh... of a performance. The last time was only a few notes too... nothing quite that.... sustained."
He momentarily smiles at the memory before pushing it aside.
"We have seen a lot of evil recently. Certainly more than I ever expected to in my lifetime. I only ever wanted to be a singer. It feels sometimes like that rally we attended to protest all of the edicts was years ago, instead of only a few weeks." The singer shakes his head and turns to Adonara.
"I am glad that you are yourself again. Again, I am sorry that I attempted to force my will on you. I stand by my intentions, but I still have residual guilt over it. You and I might have come from radically different societal positions, but I have come to view you as a friend... and trying to force your friend to do something using magic, even in their best interest... well, it feels wrong to me." He shakes his head.
"I suppose that I will have to make it up to you somehow eventually."
He turns to Ryker and Valekar. "I am sorry if I have not been as open with my feelings or our past with you until now. I have been having a harder time than I like to let on dealing with all of the darkness we have been facing, starting prior to having met you and seemingly continuing at an exponential rate of late. You can ask Kira or Adonara... I was the most reluctant of all of us initial 'rebels' to join this cause. In many ways, I showed up for a protest and found myself swept up in a cause that is larger than myself. I never wanted to be heroic or have tales written or sung about me... I just wanted the ability to perform the renditions of other peoples' stories."
He takes a longer sip of his tea and falls silent.
Kira sips her chamomile while considering how to answer Ryker's question. "I'm doing..." She pauses and shakes her head. "No, I'm not doing okay. To take over someone's will like that goes against everything the Starsong stands for. What's worse is that I can't even be certain how much of Wex's actions were his own and how much he was being controlled. We stopped a murderer and saved Desna knows how many lives...but it doesn't feel like a victory." She shudders and her hands close more tightly around her cup.
"I don't think any of us ever planned to join this cause. I certainly didn't. I just wanted to find out what happened to my father. Everything just kind of kept escalating from there. I love Kintargo. I don't want to lose it to whatever Thrune plans. But at times I wonder what we can really do." She focuses even harder on the tea leaves in her cup, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. "I'm just a student. My only concern before all this started was whether or not I was passing my classes. Astronomy, mostly. Those were always my favorite, even if they weren't a regularly-taught subject at the
Academy." She laughs a little. "I haven't attended a class since the protest. Haven't had the time."
"But we're helping people. I know we're helping people. And if we don't know what we're doing...well, who does?"
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"I am glad that you are yourself again. Again, I am sorry that I attempted to force my will on you. I stand by my intentions, but I still have residual guilt over it. You and I might have come from radically different societal positions, but I have come to view you as a friend... and trying to force your friend to do something using magic, even in their best interest... well, it feels wrong to me." He shakes his head.
"I suppose that I will have to make it up to you somehow eventually."
Adonara gestures airily with the hand that isn’t holding her coffee, and offers a genuine smile. “Far be it from me to decline a favour, but it’s really not necessary. The situation was desperate, and you weren’t asking for anything I wouldn’t be happy with in my right senses, nor by means of too intrusive an enchantment, under the circumstances.”
Listening to the conversation as she sips her drink, she realizes she’s almost forgotten just how young the others are, and that she’s the only one around the table whose reason for being in Kintargo at all is subversive activity. Even if she’s only a third of the way into her second century, and has to tread carefully this far from civilization and the resources of Kyonin’s churches. Her missionary instincts, to say nothing of the unwelcome thoughts that weigh against the back of her mind, recognize a moment that calls for encouragement.
"But we're helping people. I know we're helping people. And if we don't know what we're doing...well, who does?"
“The Lady in the Room, of course,” Adonara says. It’s unlikely that she could ever convincingly pull off primly, or want to, but her zeal makes piously easy.
“And the Starsong and the Eternal Rose, I’m sure,” she adds politely, even if she isn’t, really. Also, she hopes marginally reassuringly, “For what it’s worth, having been on the receiving end of the latter-day Balgorrah’s attentions, however briefly … I don’t think Wex was pushed that far. Balgorrah played off my own worst fears and impulses, but I don’t think it could have forced me to strike 37 times, for example. And with five victims and that comfortable little closet, I wonder how strenuously Wex resisted.”
Despite the sugar and cream, Adonara’s coffee tastes bitter. Nonetheless, she continues as brightly as she can, “I’m keeping my ears pointed for anything else, of course, but otherwise, the last bit of promising gossip I can remember might lead us to more pleasant scoundrels.”
These people have sacrificed most of their past lives for this little rebellion of theirs... It's quite admirable, actually. This must be the first time they've had to bear the real burden of the thankless job that is making life better for the public. And they still want to keep on. Damn, I think I even respect them! Ryker grips his glass, his knuckles white. And here I am, holding a sword for gold...
He stands up, tossing his glass to the barkeep. "I've some things to check up on around town," he says before pushing past the door and into the street.
They make me feel inadequate, like I'm a child sitting with the adults. Why am I so hollow? He takes a turn at one of the intersections.
I've never questioned why I do this before. Why now? Why here? Another turn. He's staring out into a green space with a large pond in the middle. Approaching the water, he grabs some flat stones and sends them skipping across the surface.
They love this city so much. They have a burning passion for it and I have... some cold gold pieces and a big sword. Tossing the remaining stones wholesale into the drink, he takes a seat at a nearby bench and starts going through his old maps.
Asking about the Lucky Bones Adonara you discover the following:
The Lucky Bones was, to the public, a gambling hall and opium den. In truth, the building was a front for a guild of thieves and abductors known as the Gray Spiders. When the Order of the Torrent learned the Gray Spiders were involved in a kidnapping and slavery ring tied to the cult of Norgorber, they confronted them. In retaliation the Gray Spiders assassinated Lictor Reya.
In turn the Order of the Torrent attacked them and the Gray Spiders were no more. But then the Lucky Bones was sealed. It was then discovered that the new lictor, Yehl and his subordinates had south to preserve the Gray Spiders' ill gotten gains for themselves and had planned to return to the complex to loot it. Yehl and the others were charged with corruption and expelled
It is rumoured that some of the members of the Gray Spiders managed to escape the raid, although this has never been confirmed.
Pellius nods as Ryker leaves, finishing his tea.
"Be safe out there."
He turns to Adonara. "I would hope that you would have been able to resist that way... but I also imagine that, over time, it would have worn down your reluctance and resistance... or it would have found someone more pliable to take it off of your corpse. Still, I am more concerned with the timing of its resurfacing. I find it to be improbable that Wex just came across it one day by chance. It is a shame that we cannot ask him any longer, but at least he is free of its influence."
He sighs, brooding over questions that have no clear answers.
After a bit, Pellius smiles and says, "I am all for meeting up with less homicidal individuals, but I suggest we do it tomorrow. My voice could benefit from some sleep." So saying, Pellius heads to his bed and falls into fitful sleep.
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As the group starts to break up as the afternoon stretches towards evening, Adonara checks on the hints she dangled with some of the regulars at the coffeehouse. Now that they’ve had a bit of time to think, possibly track down a friend of a friend or two, and decide if they feel inclined to share, it’s time to see to her takings.
Uptown in Villegre, a place like Laria’s attracts a few high rollers among the flashier and more scandalous colourful clientele, so even if gambling isn’t particularly high on the list of the forms of entertaining Adonara enjoys – she doesn’t have much of a head for or patience with running the odds – there are some folks around who know how to have a good time who do and can point her in the right direction.
What she pieces together is most alarming, and she’s glad, given the general mood among the Ravens, that it will have to wait until morning. She had hoped the Lucky Bones might have been just another thieves’ guild and potential allies against the forces of Thrune, perhaps inspired by contumacious predecessors like the Gray Spiders, but from what’s been whispered to her this afternoon, they seem to be one and the same, and decidedly nasty pieces of work. Looks like we’re not done yet with putting the Gray Beggar in his place, she thinks, twisting Norgorber’s cult titles. We’ll show that jumped-up imp’s followers – show everyone – that secrets and tricks are in Calistria’s gift.
When she returns to her apartment, she quickly dashes off notes for all the others, to be delivered by her figurine. Valekar might be able to tell us more. He was able to read that clue about the woman he spotted. But then, if the Spiders are still around, that’s no happy omen… She codes her note in a way that makes her sound rather like a mad alchemist, but at least it’s not obviously subversive: Latest results suggest the most auspicious skeletons come from dark spiders. Meet me at mine early tomorrow to discuss, over sangwine? …
She’s particularly pleased with the vinous pun, though she hopes the reference (Blood for Wine = Calistrian business) isn’t too obscurely, bookishly heretical in Cheliax, and signs as her aristocratic alias, Lady Erycina. With that, she collapses into her bed, wrapping her sheets around her and thoughts of vengeance around her dreams.
Valekar asks for a small glass of red wine, which he sips slowly.
"My apologies about yelling at you earlier. I had to sell it, in case we were being watched. Adonara and Kira are used to having to deal with my operatic... eccentricities... so I sometimes forget that not everyone is used to them."
"No need to apologise. Although I am not skilled myself, I love the arts. In fact, I haven't mentioned this before but I've seen you perform several times. All of which is to say that I understood the situation and the needs of the moment. I take no offense."
He smiles and switches to common. "When we get back home you will have to get Kira to tell the story of our first attempt at such fun. Suffice to say, I learned a lot that day." He gives the gnome the kind of warm smile reserved for good friends.
Valekar marvels at Kira's story. "A feat worthy of retelling if every the opera house reopens under less... Oppressive... Circumstances. I'm afraid I have little to offer in that line, but will be ready with my bow the next time such an operation turns sour."
"How is everyone doing? That was a rough little spell we just rolled through. Even... even for me,"
"It was trying. Not an experience I expected to have when I first sought you out. It is good to do something for the people that the current regime cannot even manage to do." But how much longer will it be until we can strike back at them? How long until I find my mother he wonders to himself.
In the meantime, Adonara turns to Ryker’s question. “I’ve had worse, but only just,” the courtesan admits quietly. “I’ve only ever seen a full-blown domination spell once before, amid a thicket of charms, and while I wasn’t important enough for any of them, even so I only survived by the grace of the goddess, and I - I…” had my dearest companion, my sister soul, stolen from me.
“Suffice it to say that it made me the woman I am today.” She shakes off old memories for the moment with something that, exceptionally, shoots past even the sharpest, tightest smile into an outright grimace.
A thicket of charms, she says? When was this? What did she lose, I wonder? What would have happened to me if I had been there when my mother was taken? Valekar muses to himself as he listens.
She turns to Ryker and Valekar especially, who are least likely to ever have restraining enchantments available. “But, if ever I’m at risk again of doing any of you, or an innocent, serious harm, and magic doesn’t seem to be holding me back, please knock me on the head or the like. Preferably with the flat of the blade, of course.”
Valekar nods solemnly.
Pellius gets a cup of tea with a few spices thrown in it and sips it gingerly. As he does he quietly does a few vocal exercises.
"Sorry if this bothers anyone. It has been a while since I have had to give that... harsh... of a performance. The last time was only a few notes too... nothing quite that.... sustained."
"Your 'performance' with the dagger was inspiring. I had no idea destruction could be so beautiful."
He turns to Ryker and Valekar. "I am sorry if I have not been as open with my feelings or our past with you until now. I have been having a harder time than I like to let on dealing with all of the darkness we have been facing, starting prior to having met you and seemingly continuing at an exponential rate of late. You can ask Kira or Adonara... I was the most reluctant of all of us initial 'rebels' to join this cause. In many ways, I showed up for a protest and found myself swept up in a cause that is larger than myself. I never wanted to be heroic or have tales written or sung about me... I just wanted the ability to perform the renditions of other peoples' stories."
He takes a longer sip of his tea and falls silent.
"Thrune has taken your livelihood from you. He has taken something from me, also..." he pauses for a moment, then raises his glass "To a glorious career in the opera house for you!" he says.
"I don't think any of us ever planned to join this cause. I certainly didn't. I just wanted to find out what happened to my father. Everything just kind of kept escalating from there. I love Kintargo. I don't want to lose it to whatever Thrune plans. But at times I wonder what we can really do." She focuses even harder on the tea leaves in her cup, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. "I'm just a student. My only concern before all this started was whether or not I was passing my classes. Astronomy, mostly. Those were always my favorite, even if they weren't a regularly-taught subject at the Academy." She laughs a little. "I haven't attended a class since the protest. Haven't had the time."
"But we're helping people. I know we're helping people. And if we don't know what we're doing...well, who does?"
"I never 'planned' to join this cause but... It runs in my blood, you could say..." He trails off thoughtfully, then excuses himself for the evening, waving off any questions for another time.
Valekar shows up to Adonara's house the next morning eager to be started. "So what will we do today to stick the old badger's nose? "
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Exchanging greetings, Adonara seems to have bounced back from yesterday’s unpleasantness.
“Well, the bad news is,” she begins glibly, but with a slight fanatical glint in her eye, “that at this rate we’ll put down cults of every aspect of Norgorber before we’re done, and, candidly, that doesn’t seem directly related to Barzillai Badger’s activities. However, whatever the Lucky Bones, or the Spiders reborn, or whatever you want to call them, are planning, the fewer other things the people of Kintargo have to worry about while Thrune is still to be dislodged, the better.”
“The good news, such as it is, is that the lair beneath the eponymous gambling hall is said to have been sealed before it could be spoiled. If that’s true and we can find our way in, after a human generation or so, I’m sure we can find a better use for their treasures and supplies, and perhaps find clues as to whence this latest incarnation of the Bones has sprung.”
“I don’t suppose,” she adds, curious, “that as a local you’d have a better sense for the whole sordid story? The pace of human life continues to confound me.”
Pellius actually cracks into a smile at Valekar's remarks.
"I haven't had the chance to properly star yet... my first role that I could have had a leading part was canceled by Thrune's occupation. Still, it does warm my heart that I was able to make such an impression on you... thank you for telling me. When things are less hectic, and my voice is properly back, I will have to put on a performance for you. For all of you, if you are interested. What did these infernal people take from you, if you don't mind my asking?"
Pellius arrives at Adonara's place and begins to make himself some tea, which he proceeds to sip quietly while she lays out her informant's tips. A frown crosses his brow.
"Do you think that these... Spiders... could have been responsible for Wex? It matters little, mind you, but I could see it being their version of an attempt to wrest the city from Asmodius and into the hands of Norgorber."
His frown deepens. "For that matter, why did they just seal off the hall instead of raiding it then and there? Did your informants think there could be some kind of guardian or traps that caused even Hellknights to pause?"
As he says this, he thinks back to any tales his parents or fellow opera staff might have shared on that period of Kintargo's past.
[i]Lictor Octavio replies to Pellius' question:
"I think the leader of the Order at the time thought that if we raided there and then she could not control how much of the loot got back to the authorities. By sealing the area she could control when and where the loot was recovered, presumably without the authorities knowledge. The feeling was that there were a number of guardians including changelings and there were several traps to catch the unwary, unfortunately no real records were kept so the details are non existent."
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“Mmm,” Adonara hums at Octavio’s report, and while she’s not so kind as to resist the impulse to gloat over the history of Hellknight corruption, necessarily, her own home’s record of demonic infestation ensures that she’s not without sympathy, so she holds her peace on that front.
The news about what might be locked away inside the Lucky Bones’ hideout, however, prompts a muffled Elven curse as she weighs the situation, though she manages not to pinch the bridge of her nose in anxious frustration. “ἐσκόρακας! Hagseed? So we should expect some witchery? Although one can hope that the changelings themselves moved on, unless it’s a family concern… More worryingly, I dabble in trapwork and the like, but I’m hardly an expert. We’ll have to be very careful.”
"Do you think that these... Spiders... could have been responsible for Wex? It matters little, mind you, but I could see it being their version of an attempt to wrest the city from Asmodius and into the hands of Norgorber."
Pellius’ questions also remind Adonara of something else. “Perhaps in the long term, but then again, wasn’t Thrune trying to revive the libel that the Order of the Torrent had … unfortunate entanglements with the Spiders to justify the knights’ suppression? In that case, I can imagine he might even have invited the slavers back. They could be dancing around each other – well, with considerable more care on the Norgorberites’ side, I presume.”
Despite her concerns, the courtesan’s smile is both charming and brazen. “Shall we cut in?”
Kira spends a significant portion of the night outside, on the roof, just staring up at the stars. I really should get myself an orrery. One fortunate consequence of this whole unfortunate business is that I should be able to afford one now. And it would be nice to think about something simple for a change.
The next morning she's in far better spirits despite the grim subject matter. "I find it difficult to believe the Grey Spiders didn't have something to do with Wex, if for no other reason than it seems strange for Balgorrah to reappear now. As for whether the Spiders are working for Thrune, against him, or both at the same time I don't really think it matters. They need to be stopped regardless."
"As for witchery, I'm afraid I'm not exactly versed on that subject. I don't even know what hags are capable of, outside of a few childhood stories of bad gnome children who get eaten if they don't listen to their parents." She rests her chin in her hands, legs swingly idly. "If this is going to be that dangerous, maybe we should do some shopping first. We've got stuff to sell, and a wand of Cure Light Wounds would make things a bit easier on me. Plus aren't there spells that help with traps? Maybe we could get a wand of that too."
As a reward for dealing with Wex Haetamon gives you a pair of boots of levitation
"An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure," Ryker mutters when Kira mentions specific preparations. "Finding traps can be a group effort, but I've never seen a group handle a trap safely. If we can spend some gold to do it reliably, I say we do so. Should go without saying that binding wounds instantly has my vote." I've got to learn from these people. What makes them tick? Why do they do what they do?
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"As for witchery, I'm afraid I'm not exactly versed on that subject. I don't even know what hags are capable of, outside of a few childhood stories of bad gnome children who get eaten if they don't listen to their parents." She rests her chin in her hands, legs swingly idly. "If this is going to be that dangerous, maybe we should do some shopping first. We've got stuff to sell, and a wand of Cure Light Wounds would make things a bit easier on me. Plus aren't there spells that help with traps? Maybe we could get a wand of that too."
“There were a few around the cathedral back home,” Adonara shrugs. “A bit wild, and really close to their familiars, but their hexcraft was astonishing, especially if they could spread it over multiple petitioners.”
She’s on somewhat more familiar ground with locks and traps and things, though it’s been some time, and she can imagine Erisia shaking her head in fond exasperation already. After Ryker chimes in, the courtesan offers, “I’ll have to spend some time in prayer, and see what grace the goddess is pleased to give, but she is, of course, always generous. One of my best friends also taught me a few things about secular techniques, but it’s been a while. I hope you can bear with some enthusiastic rather than entirely informed wand-waving.”
She considers all the necessary preparations. “Perhaps a day marketing would be best after all. And some sparring? Also, I know you’ve a few wands, Valekar, but after our folderol at the prison with the Torrent Hellknights, if you’d like to borrow my little grimoire to add a shield spell to your own directly, you’re more than welcome to. I know you’d be able to do much more with it.”
“And at some point we really ought to reach out to our humbler supporters,” she muses.
Pellius nods. "I agree, some shopping would be useful prior. I have been meaning to get a better set of armor, and if there are traps or creatures down in those tunnels now might be a good time to do so."
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“Most anyone, and especially the temples, should carry various healing wands if they deal in any,” Adonara muses, “but those to make light-fingered business easier… the Newt Market might be the place to look, or I’m sure Crissali wouldn’t be too scandalized if I asked her. Especially if we also asked her to find a good home for certain volumes we saved from Thrune’s depredations.”
Her brows arch in mock bemusement. “And then, Miss V. and her friends at Lady Docur’s could probably do with some pin money, but after that, I would appreciate just a bit more time to pray for guidance for what we’re about to do, while for those of us looking for armour, Olmer’s is almost on the way to where we might start our search for our Spiders’ web. Or Bones, if you prefer.”
The charred ruins of the Lucky Bones stand at the southwestern edge of the city, surrounded by warehouses. The ruins themselves are picked over- very little remains but rubble, a tangle of timbers, and three partially collapsed brick fireplaces. To casual observation, the ruins look entirely abandoned.
Pellius surveys the picked over rubble, looking for the entrance to the caverns bellow.
"Hellknights don't mess around when they want to destroy a place, do they?"
"I'm pretty sure the unofficial motto is 'No kill like overkill.'" Kira joins Pellius in looking around the ruins. "But the place was sealed for later looting, which means there must be a way in to do said looting."
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After a morning of finding homes (or at least someone else to do so) for a surprising amount of stuff, including a shelf or two’s worth of history books, splashing an enormous amount of gold around, and checking up on some of the Ravens’ allies, Adonara is beyond relieved to catch a breath and take some more time to commune with her goddess before, duly fortified, braving the ruins of the Lucky Bones.
"I'm pretty sure the unofficial motto is 'No kill like overkill.'" Kira joins Pellius in looking around the ruins. "But the place was sealed for later looting, which means there must be a way in to do said looting."
Despite the rather disheartening mess – I suppose cleaning it up would make it a bit too tempting, but given the devil-kissers’ fondness for making inconvenient facts, things, and people disappear, it’s a bit surprising that it hasn’t just been built over again. I wonder… – Adonara beams in Kira’s direction at the student’s comment, as much as to say, ‘I like the way you think.’
“One of the few points on which they are in agreement with the followers of the Savored Sting,” she says approvingly, before resuming her search for where some understory presumably led to the Spiders’ lair proper.
Taking a step back, the courtesan reconsiders the wreckage with a moue. Something unobtrusive, but also, ideally, hard-wearing... "Do you think it could be built into one of the fireplaces?"
Ryker nods his head. "I was thinking the same, a fireplace would be easy enough to write off as a looter since there'd be wood at best and charcoal at worst. Hellknights are ruthless, but only fools and dead men would think they couldn't also be crafty."
Starting with the obvious fireplaces, he does his best to find some sort of trapdoor. Having found a nearby stick, he takes to sounding the floor for hollow notes.
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Ryker you spot a trail through the rubble that leads to the southwestern fireplace which is the most ruined. You spot in the fireplace a hidden trap door that appears to have very well oiled hinges.
Ryker frowns at the door. "Hinges are oiled, and well. That doesn't bode well for our safety, be ready for some resistance," he warns, unslinging the sword from his back. "If we move quickly, we might be able to get the jump on anyone down there. Anyone got a magic light for me?" he asks, gesturing to his sword.
Once everyone has had a chance to prepare, he hoists the trapdoor and drops inside.
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Adonara takes her curled whip in hand and volunteers, “If we find more menacing doors or suspiciously clear passageways down there, I don’t mind going on ahead a few paces. I don’t mean to be miserly with our new wand, but then each casting isn’t necessarily going to last that long, so I’d prefer not to indulge until it looks like a more reasonable precaution.”
With that, she jumps down after Ryker.
Pellius creates a floating light over Ryker's head.
"Well... it wouldn't be a problem in modern Kintargo for us to look into if it was just an old tomb. Hellfire, even the old wrecks and tombs we look into show signs of active life." Shaking his head, he jumps down after Adonara and Ryker.
One by one you drop down through the trapdoor. Below the trap door a flight of stairs descends into a partially collapsed basement. The air is thick with the cloying reek of garbage and decay, and clouds of fat flies buzz about, making it doubly unpleasant to breathe within the dank chamber. A wooden door, reinforced with rusting iron strips sits in the eastern wall.
Pellius attempts to put on a brave face as the waves of flies and unpleasantness hit him, but he just can't keep it in. Turning to face a wall, he vomits back to the surface his breakfast. Clutching his stomach, he keeps huddled against the wall.
"Give.... <spit>... me a... <spit> moment please."
“I don’t suppose,” she adds, curious, “that as a local you’d have a better sense for the whole sordid story? The pace of human life continues to confound me.”
"Hmm..." Valekar tries to recall what he knows about the incidents of the time.
She considers all the necessary preparations. “... Also, I know you’ve a few wands, Valekar, but after our folderol at the prison with the Torrent Hellknights, if you’d like to borrow my little grimoire to add a shield spell to your own directly, you’re more than welcome to. I know you’d be able to do much more with it.”
"Thank you. In kind, if you would like to learn any of my spells, just let me know."
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Valekar looks around for the entrance or anything else hidden in the rubble.
"It is very puzzling that they never built anything new over this place."
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Valekar bites back the urge to vomit and looks around for signs of recent egress or ingress.
Kira jumps down the trapdoor with the others, then promptly holds her nose and thinks clean thoughts. She gets halfway through "This is worse-" before she has to stop talking and swallow hard.
Reluctant to open her mouth for fear of an insect flying in, she points to Adonara, then to the door, waggling her eyebrows in a hopefully suggestive way. Traps? Trusting Adonara to take care of the door, (and please let it smell better in there), she joins Valekar in looking around the room they're currently in.
Unfortunately she's far too busy swatting away flies to actually pay any attention.