Rissi accepts the hug from Talienda happily. "I'm sure we can all rely on each other. We'll have to with what this place seems to hold for us."
"Remember when, not if, we get out of here, you might want to see if you can train to learn a more combat oriented cantrip. Your lightning is good. But like your higher spells limited in how many times per day you can use it. Cantrips never end. And while they don't do much, sometimes they can help."
Somewhat curious about the filing system Rissi watches as Talib searches through the paperwork. It doesn't take very long though and she realizes that legal paperwork isn't very interesting for the non-trained.
Talib looks through the files with an accompaniment of hmms and hrms, which do little to indicate his level of success. Finally, he stows each sheaf of papers safely in his satchel. As he wades through the water back into the hallway, he jots down a few decisive lines in his notebook.
"I believe we have a suspect," he declares to the rest of the group, as stoic as ever. "A barrister, one 'A.W.'. According to the files, they had a curious preoccupation with keeping Malgrim out of prison. Malgrim, in turn, was being used to intimidate the already indebted Halgrak, likely with the intent of producing a guilty verdict for Mord. This 'A.W.' also had Varisian scarves in his office, scarves which apparently match those worn by Mord's wife..."
"That is hardly enough to prove a definitive connection between the barrister and the case, at least in court—but it is certainly not a coincidence."
The inquisitor turns to Killian, his face set into a scowl. "Do the initials 'A.W.' happen to mean anything to you, Mister Paltreth?"
Killian grins at Mylok. "Well, yes, I am no specialist on the supernatural…suppose it does sound a bit ridiculous, but it did work, no?"
After listening to Talib, the elderly man scratches his chin for a second and then nods. "Well, there was a young, upcoming barrister back then…went by the name of Alasdair Wade. Very ambitious fellow. Polite. Seems to fit your description, no? But what do you mean? You think Mord was set up? Why would Wade do that?"
Even if hiding in a broom closet does sound at least somewhat dumb given the circumstances, Killian seems to be telling the truth. He certainly hasn't been running around and fearing for his life, judging from his spotless clothes and relaxed demeanor.
Talienda skips a breath when she hear Alasdair's -- uncle Ally's -- name. He had been a very good friend of Diago, though she now realises he stopped visiting about a year ago.
Talienda takes note of Rissi's words, wondering if she could learn a cantrip that would help with her offensive power.
She nods at Mylock's reply, knowing that he's right. She feels a little better, but then a chill wind blows down her spine as she hear's Killian mention Alasdair Ward.
"Y-you mean Uncle Ally was involved in this, too? D-do you know of him? What happened to him," she asks, feeling the same heart-wrenching pain as before when she'd learned without a doubt what kind of a man her father really was.
”Coincidences seldom are coincidences,” Mylok muses. His gazes around the room at the corpses, both rotting and the recent, before landing on Killian. Killian and his pristine outfit.
Broom closet in an abandoned building and not a speck of dirt nor a bead of sweat, the gunslinger thinks to himself.
“‘spose a simple spell could clean his clothes.” Mylok mutters.
As if just taking in the room’s unique aroma, Mylok holds the crook of his arm up to his nose before addressing the group.
"Y-you mean Uncle Ally was involved in this, too? D-do you know of him? What happened to him," she asks, feeling the same heart-wrenching pain as before when she'd learned without a doubt what kind of a man her father really was.
“As much as I want to hear this, anyone else think we can continue this conversation elsewhere? I already feel like this stench is going to get stuck in my nostrils for weeks.”
"Oh, so you knew him? Well, it figures…" Killian takes another sip from his flask. "And last I heard he was all fine and full of cash, wasting a good part of it courting a woman or two."
He nods vigorously at Mylok's suggestion. "Indeed, a fine suggestion, young man, it smells awful here. Not that the rest of this gods forsaken place is much better, mind you."
The group quickly moves upstairs, back to the main hall.
"Seems to fit your description, no? But what do you mean? You think Mord was set up? Why would Wade do that?"
"He might have needed a scapegoat," muses Talib. "Mayhaps it was a crime of passion. Hardly conducive to a career in law..."
The inquisitor looks meaningfully to Sinésiel, recalling the vision she had in the attic. He shakes his head. "Not that it matters. Wade is not here, and Mord's spirit was not receptive to a parlay. Maybe he will listen if we present him with enough proof, but I would not count on it. He seems wholly beyond reason."
Talib moves into the cell block, sword at the ready. He looks into each of the cells, looking for anything out of place.
"The last time I saw him was over a year ago," Talienda explains.
===
Back out of the basement, she stays next to Rissi and Mylock as much as she can. She trusts them, and feels that Killian is hiding something.
"Um, excuse me sir," she squeaks out, her voice cracking just a bit. "D-did you know my father as well?"
"He might have needed a scapegoat," muses Talib. "Mayhaps it was a crime of passion. Hardly conducive to a career in law..."
“Right.”
The gunslinger slips the pistol free and adopts a rigid posture as he follows Talib, “Cold, dispassionate, by the book.”
Mylok relaxes his shoulders as he peers into the cells from over the inquisitor’s shoulder and in a tone that is, given the circumstances, more conversational than it should be, Mylok addresses the Keleshite, “I understand where you’re coming from on that, Constable. But I think I’d sooner listen to what my gut says is the right thing today before I follow some words some old timer wrote in a book I’ve never seen. Maybe if Mord’s jurors had done that, we might not be in the mess.”
The gunslinger shrugs, “If he was a scapegoat, I mean.”
Siné thinks back on the vision in the attic with a grimace, wincing at Talib's glance. She waits to see what Rissi and Tali do before moving along to the cell block with Talib and Mylok. Her upbringing helping the sick and needy has given Siné a rather dim view of men drinking alcohol as a coping mechanism in dire straits. Even worse, with Tali out of spells she worries for the young woman's ability to protect herself.
Several rusted iron cages take up most of the area. The barred doors are open and a few swing eerily, although no wind blows down here in the dark. In the lane stretching between these cages lies a headless skeleton, one arm folded beneath it awkwardly, the other outstretched from its side.
As eerie as the scene is, the skeleton draws Rissi's attention. "Is he pointing at something?"
Rissi approaches the skeleton and kneels down, murmuring incantations in search of magic. After confirming nothing of interest about it, when she prepares to stand up and move away, the ratfolk notices markings in one of the walls; approaching it, she sees someone scrawled a message here a long time ago. It reads:
"I have served as an angel of justice my entire life. I shall have mine. Even if it be in death, justice shall be mine. Sveth, my only friend, you will find this when you clean the cell. You are my avenging angel now. Bring those liars and fools back to me after I swing, so that I might have my justice. Ten years to the day, then they will pay, my soul shall stay until ten years to the day. When the true murderer of my beloved Malene and my boy Gabe swings from my gallows as I did, on the tenth anniversary of my hanging, then at long last I shall be free."
Following Rissi, Talienda sees the message and feels a cold knuckle run down her spine. What Mord wanted wasn't justice. He wanted revenge. She looks back on the vision she had in the dream, and shudders as she recalls the snapping her her neck and the crushing of her throat. A man that bitter would focus on the man he hated most in his final moments, wouldn't he?
She did know, but she tried to glean whatever she could from that terrible nightmare vision.
Exhausted and confused, Talienda struggles to remember much of her vision, as if part of her mind preferred to simply the mightmare that surrounds her.
Killian, who had cautiously stayed out of the holding cell area, draws closer. "So, anything interesting here, dear chaps? Oh, my, who is, sorry, was that?"
“If I’m not mistaken, and I don’t think I am, I’d wager to say that that is the remains of someone that lost their head.” Mylok grimaces and rubs at his own neck.
Set’s disciples! He thinks, It’s getting harder and harder to stay positive in this place. At least it’s not out there... a shiver runs down Misfire’s spine as his mind conjures up the memory of the void of the outside.
Fiddling with the strap of his pack, Mylok looks for anything to distract himself for even a moment.
"Judging by the level of desiccation here, I don't think I'll have much luck reading anything from the corpse," Sinésiel says, clutching her holy symbol tightly in her shield-hand. "I'm not exactly skilled with medicine or autopsies, but if anyone is we might be able to glean something important here. Why is there a headless skeleton in a cell? Was the decapitation the cause of death or did it happen postmortem? If the person here was beheaded, why put them back here?"
Rissi points out the message to everyone. "The skeleton just seems to be some old bones, dumped here. But this is interesting. Who is Sveth I wonder.... ??"
"Well, I have heard about some courageous men and women who came into the courthouse a few years ago to try and…deal with Jarbin. But only one came back and she was…insane, carrying the severed head of one of her companions with a candle inside." Killian shivers and frowns, taking a big swig of his flask before adding "Horrible stuff, innit, but this skeleton could be that companion's?"
Hearing about what had likely happened to the person who's remains these were, Talienda goes pale, well paler, and slumps against the wall.
"It's not justice he's after, it's vengeance," she mutters as she wonders why this Sveth took her and the others that hadn't been on the jury, but had family that were.
"Mr. Killian, you never answered my question about knowing my father," she says, trying to change the subject before she could think too long on the kind of person that would condemn a girl for something that happened when she was six and that she had no control over.
Crouching next to the body, Talib makes a few notes. He then inspects the carved message and scoffs. "An 'angel of justice,' indeed. Pride is not a desirable quality in an executioner. Then again, it makes sense—for the soul to resist the Cycle, they must have a powerful ego...'"
The inquisitor rises to his feet and stows his notebook. "Whoever this 'Sveth' is, they must be responsible for bringing us here. I suppose one cannot blame them for not trusting the authorities, but abetting a revenant to commit mass murder is... an extreme measure."
He thinks for a moment, fingers tapping against the pommel of his falchion. "They must have been someone with access to the courthouse, if Mord expected them to see the message. A low-level clerk or secretary, perhaps, or a janitorial worker. Most of the other staff is accounted for, in one way or another."
Crouching next to the body, Talib makes a few notes. ... "Most of the other staff is accounted for, in one way or another."
“To be fair, someone that is lookin’ to make chopping heads offa people a career, is probably the exact kind of person that would take pride in that sort of work.” Mylok takes a step over to peer into the opposite cell. Sweat weighs down his hair and he runs hand through it, combing it back out of his face.
“I almost can’t blame the guy, uh, Sveth I mean, for what he’s done. I mean, if my friend was arrested for a crime he didn’t commit and then the courts failed him I might find myself looking for whatever form a of justice I could get.” Mylok sighs and drops his shoulders, “Maybe these jurors deserv-” The gunslinger cuts himself short and shakes his head slowly, “No. I guess they didn’t”
Misfire takes a deep breath and stands up straight, “Regardless, we still have areas to search, no? Let’s see if we can figure out who this Sveth is.”
"Oh! I'm sorry, dear. This place plays tricks with your mind! I knew him…socially. A respectful man, very polite, but a bit blunt." Killian says to Talienda before his attention is drawn to Mylok and Talib.
"That's a fair point, young man. Injustice can force a man to do extreme things. The gods know I've seen my share of people driven mad by injustice…who knows whether two wrongs can make one right too. All of this assuming our esteemed Collector's conclusions are correct and Jarben was simply a scapegoat for someone else's sins!" Killian takes three more swigs from his flask. "I would've carried my bigger flask if I knew I was going to be kidnapped!"
"B-but who would have killed his wife and son if not Malgrim," Talienda asks. "H-he's already dead. Who else would have done such a horrible thing?"
“I almost can’t blame the guy, uh, Sveth I mean, for what he’s done. I mean, if my friend was arrested for a crime he didn’t commit and then the courts failed him I might find myself looking for whatever form a of justice I could get.”
"It is a matter of degree," Talib muses, "rather than justification. A corrupt court is worse than no court at all—so says the Judge of the Gods himself—and in those circumstances there is a need for reformative action. However, as Mister Paltreth says, two wrongs do not make a right. If you avenge your friend, and your enemy's friends take vengeance on you, and so forth, when shall it end? There are other ways—better ways to enact justice."
Catching himself on another rant, Talib pauses to run a finger across the golden key on his lapel, as if to draw composure from its cool metal surface. "Mord's fate is a tragedy, but he is just one man. What truly matters is making sure this does not happen again."
"B-but who would have killed his wife and son if not Malgrim," Talienda asks. "H-he's already dead. Who else would have done such a horrible thing?"
"Someone with a scar on their cheek," says Talib, exchanging a preacher's pathos for the stoicism of an inquisitor. "Mylok is right. We should move on."
Rissi speaks up at Mylok's comments. "If the jury convicted an innocent man there are some that would hold them guilty. If they followed the law to do so, well.... they at least have a reason for their error. And since we all are tied to that possible error, our viewpoint of it may not be valid. However, since none of us was on that jury, our being targeted for that same vengeance makes no real sense. What will the revenent do once all in this building are slain? Wait for the next generation in our families? Exit the building and target the entire city? Too many terrible stories follow that pattern of 'Kill them all and let Pharasma sort them out!'" She shakes her head, obviously just venting and not seeking an answer.
Rissi speaks up at Mylok's comments.... Too many terrible stories follow that pattern of 'Kill them all and let Pharasma sort them out!'"
Mylok nods in agreement as Rissi speaks, "I think I may have misspoke. I simply meant that I can understand the line of thought that led to us all being here. I don't agree with it, but I understand it. But I also get that holding onto hatred like that can take a toll on your very soul. When my parents-" Misfire cuts himself short. A smile forms on his face that quickly turns into laughter.
"Take a toll on your soul!" He repeats and gestures around at the room, "As if that wasn't obvious!" between bouts of laughter he wheezes out a few words, "Oh, c'mon...that was...that...funny!"
Killian nods somewhat absent-mindedly. "Yes, indeed…when will it end? I like to think Jarben will stop once this scarred man meets his justice." He takes a small sip from his flask. "Again, if Collector al-Abadar is correct and a grave injustice was perpetrated here ten years ago." The elderly gentleman moves towards the corridor, turns around as if to say something and then screams: "Behind you! The skeleton!"
When the group turns to see, blood is pouring from the skeleton as it trembles and shakes into activity. The red liquid covers its bones and spouts from the broken neck as a fountain, crystallising into something similar to a misshapen skull with sharp teeth.
1. Rissi
2. Sinésiel
3. Talienda
4. Mylok
5. Talib
6. Killian
7. Skeleton
Killian runs to a corner of the corridor and keeps his eyes fixed on the undead creature.
Talienda scrambles back next to Killian and tries to think of anything she can do. Focusing on one of the runes she hasn't tried yet.
She quickly draws it in the air, and not seeing any harm from the flowing magic, focuses on Mylock.
Mylok whirls to face the horror that Killian had pointed out. The sight of the bloody thing causes the adrenaline to fire off in the gunslinger’s body. The pistol raises and Mylok squeezes the trigger on instinct, sending the round bullet hurtling past the inquisitor.
Talib whirls around, his falchion discarded in a heartbeat at the sight of a skeletal foe. He sidesteps the creature and swings his his long-hafted mace in a wide circle, he attempts to crush its ribgcage into splinters. Even as he strikes, the inquisitor's mind is racing for an explanation for all the blood.
Focussed on the most immediate danger, Mylok fails to notice one of the pouches on his belt clumsily floating above to his head. His shot goes right through the crystallised blood in the shape of a skull. The creature seems briefly disoriented; Talib seizes the opportunity and shatters its ribcage. The briefly reanimated skeleton flops down to the ground.
Slowly lowering his mace, the inquisitor recognises the creature as a type of skeleton that slowly heals itself after any attack that is not imbued with positive energy.
Talienda sees what's happening, and that the fight is over. Rather than risk breaking something, she gently directs the pouch in front of Mylock.
"Sorry. I was trying to help and thought this one might do something useful," she apologizes.
Even after the skeleton has ceased its unnatural animation, Talib keeps on the move, dropping the mace in favour of a burlap sack. He shoves the bones into the bag, marches to the basement door, and tosses it down the stairs. Then he slams the door and braces a shoulder against it.
"It will get up soon," he says sharply. "Does anyone have anything to jam the door?"
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Talienda hands Talib her dagger and joins him in bracing the door.
"I've got enough for about one more spell, I'd say, so if it gets back up I can try to destroy it," Siné says as she prepares herself by the door. She sheathes her scimitar and gets ready to cast cure light wounds if the skeleton breaches the door.
"Best to try and save that spell, no?" Mylok takes a moment to reload his pistol.
"Good thinking, Duchess. Let's get that door jammed." The gunslinger stepped forward to help with holding the door but just couldn't find the footing to help brace.
"Constable, is it possible that the thing might leave us be now that we are out of sight? How smart could a bag of bones be, right?"
Talienda hands Talib her dagger and joins him in bracing the door.
Talib grabs Talienda's dagger with a curt nod, shoves it blade first under the door, and then gives it a solid kick to drive it in place.
"Constable, is it possible that the thing might leave us be now that we are out of sight? How smart could a bag of bones be, right?"
The inquisitor stands with his ear to the door, trying to hear if the skeleton is moving about.
"Unclear," he says with a shrug. "Some are more sapient than others. I did not have sufficient time to observe its behaviour."
After Talib throws the bag of bones down the stairs and locks the door with Talienda and Mylok's help, the group nervously waits, ears perked up for any sound coming from below. Killian nervously paces back and forth for a few silent minutes before clearing his throat. "Well, perhaps it won't be coming after us, after all? Or this is a different creature than what you imagined?"
"Where do we go now?"
Surprised and relieved when the melee starts and ends so quick. Hearing the explanation of the creature but agreeing that they don't want to waste healing powers on it she wonders, "How about pounding the bones to splinters and scattering them.... ??" But then the bones are bagged and tossed down stairs. "Well, maybe just pile anything we can reach in front of the door and leave this area."
This open-air chamber contains a large cage and a stocks where painfully hobbled criminals wallowed to the joy of onlookers, who spent their own frustrations by hurling rotting fruit at the accused. On the other side of the bars lies what might have been the door to the cage and a dug-up potter’s field where the bodies of criminals rest in unmarked graves. Beyond, the wind-blasted desolation of Beldrin’s Bluff beckons. Cracked buildings slump against each other in the distance, many already collapsed into piles of rubble.
Suddenly, a moaning issues forth from the dug-up graves and bloated rotting fingers reach up and claw toward freedom. Three corpses, nooses draped about their necks, push to their feet and lumber toward the bars.
1. Talienda
2. Rissi
3. Talib
4. Sinésiel
5. Killian
6. Mylok
7. Zombies
// Init
Seeing that she's not going to be much help here, Talienda steps back out of the door and next to Mr. Killian.
"I don't suppose you're secretly some great wizard who could blast a few undead," she asks him.
Seeing the corpses rise Rissi stops and lets the warrior types handle them. "I don't think my rapier or my arrows would have any effect on those. A heavy blade is needed! But take heart and chop them down quickly!"
Talib steps up, blocking the entrance into the cage. He lifts his falchion, patiently waiting for the zombies to draw nearer. There is no reason to risk fighting the undead in melee if they are already trapped, but if they are not, the door cannot safely be barred without being attacked through the bars.
"Back home, people run shops where kids can shoot toy rifles at wooden goblins for prizes." A grin spreads across Mylok's face as he waits for a halfway decent shot through the bars, "I miss home. But this'll do."