Halgrak blinks for a second, still refusing to stop staring at the wall. With a timid movement, he extends the ice bucket to Talienda and, when she looks inside, she cannot avoid a small squeal. Besides somehow being filled with solid ice even after all these years, the bucket contains what she can only describe as pickled toes that seemed to have been severed from a large green-skinned person a long time ago. She darts a nervous glance at Halgrak's feet: the half-orc wears leather sandals which make it simple to realise he is missing all toes on his left foot.
Halgrak starts sobbing again, a bit more gently and openly than before.
Rissi moves into the room, bypassing the weeping half-orc. She leaves comforting the man to the others as she examines the strange paintings. "What is wrong with these things? Only this one of the judge is clear...." She casts Detect Magic and scans the area, then focuses specifically on the paintings and the plaques under them, finally on the incenser.
Once he enters the room, Talib reels for a moment, his eyes glazing over and staring into empty air. Then, he suddenly shakes his head and mutters quietly to himself in Kelish, scribbling out a short note in his journal. Hearing a squeal from Talienda's direction, the inquisitor snaps out of his reverie and briskly marches over. He takes in the scene with his regular façade of collectedness, even if he is forced to put it up somewhat more hurriedly than usual.
"Who did this to you?" he asks in a firm tone, pointing at Halgrak's bucket. "One of the other jurors?"
Rissi sees that the paintings all have a faint illusion aura, but the plaques are just regular pieces of metal. The incenser itself is also just a regular object, the remaining resin emanates clear transmutation energies.
Meanwhile, Halgrak nods slowly and mumbles "Yeah…Malgrim…"
It seems that, when burnt, this resin can force incorporeal creatures and objects to become corporeal. There is very little left, however: enough for half a minute, perhaps even less.
"He was attempting to coerce you," Talib continues, "in order to produce a guilty verdict."
While they are more a statement than a question, the inquisitor nevertheless pauses for a confirmation of his deductions.
Skurly peers about, a shiver rolling through his body as he looks upon the weirdly distorted faces in the paintings. Turning away for the time being from their uncanny and inconstant features, he joins Talienda and Halgrak.
It must be even harder to be a big coward than a little one, he thought. He can't even disappear into the crowd to hide his shame, poor thing.
"Mr. Halgrak?" Skurly keeps his voice as gentle as he can, without falling into the bounds of timidity. "We know this is all just awful, and it might seem like everything is lost. But Ms. Talienda's right- you've survived something awful already, haven't you? We can't undo what's been done, but if you tell us how this happened to you, maybe we can make it a little bit right- it's never late to make good out of bad, I say. Do you believe me?"
At first, Talib hrrms sceptically in response to Skurly's optimism, but seems to come around on the issue by the end of his little spiel—at least it serves a purpose. The inquisitor nods encouragingly at Halgrak, trying to appear as confident as possible. "The situation is dire, but not unsalvageable."
"Was there anyone else there when this happened," Talienda asked, before asking another question as her voice turns somewhat shaky, "and wouldn't the toes only be bone by now?"
It takes a few minutes for Talib to understand that Halgrak rocking back and forth was likely the best confirmation the half-orc could muster in his half-catatonic state.
After hearing Skurly's somewhat motivational speech, he finally takes his eyes off the wall, only to say "We're all going to die, boy. Mord is angry and he'll kill us all. I'll never see my kids again…" he averts his look and cries.
The answer to Talienda's question comes between sniffles. "No, only Malgrim…he was strong…they sent him alone…he didn't lead the gang then." He pauses for a moment, shudders, wipes his nose with his forearm. "He kept coming, all these years…with a jar filled with brine…made me suck on them once…me or the kids…torturer…"
The answer to Talienda's question comes between sniffles. "No, only Malgrim…he was strong…they sent him alone…he didn't lead the gang then." He pauses for a moment, shudders, wipes his nose with his forearm. "He kept coming, all these years…with a jar filled with brine…made me suck on them once…me or the kids…torturer…"
"He is dead now," presses Talib. "Who are 'they?' Who sent him, and why?"
Talienda hugs Halgrak, not knowing how else to comfort the distraught half-orc.
"Talib has the right of it. Malgrim's dead. He won't be able to hurt you or anyone that you love," She tells him, then hits on an idea. "What do you do, Halgrak? Do you have a craft or pastime that you enjoy," she asks, trying to help Halgrak focus on something else besides the horrible things that had happened.
It sounds as though Malgrim's legacy grows darker with every detail. Even the Dawnflower herself would have trouble redeeming his soul.
While Sinésiel is sympathetic to Halgrak's plight she isn't sure she's in the state of mind to be comforting anyone else. She is bothered by the paintings—years of wear and tear were obviously not the cause of the set up here.
Upon hearing mention of a gang, she moves to stand next to Talib and await a response from Halgrak. She does her best to not appear overeager.
Rissi shakes her head at the paintings. "Minor illusion. Strange and a bit stupid waste of magic...."
She stays back out of the way as the others question Halgrak. His story is disturbing but doesn't answer any questions about her Gran.
"I don't know…I never saw them…I was young, stupid…gambled…Lucky Harpy…couldn't pay my debts…and one day Malgrim came knocking…said they wanted me to say Mord was guilty, but I'm no cheat, I have honour, I say. Then they cut my toes but I don't pay them no mind, I have five others, I say…until they tell me they'll go after my kids…" Halgrak mumbles and continues rocking his body back and forth, as if he were talking to himself.
When Talienda hugs him, the half-orc freezes, his eyes go wide and his muscles tense. Slowly, however, he extends one arm, then another and reciprocates the display of affection. "You're just as sweet as her…my little girl, barely your age…if you get out of here, give her a hug for me."
The Lucky Harpy was a gambling den in the Puddles, but about a week ago it was burned to the ground for no apparent reason, shortly after the death of its mysterious owner.
Some people say the owner of the place was Diago Blackhorn and that he had been double-crossed by an old collaborator.
"We'll get out of here and you can give her a hug yourself," Tallienda says as gives Halgrak a squeeze before letting go.
"There are many forms of love, my art tutor taught me. You made a mistake, but we all do that. I don't think anyone reasonable would blame you for doing whatever it took to protect your children when you had no other choice," she tells him. "An innocent man died, but it sounded like he was doomed no matter what you did."
Talienda sits back, looking Halgrak in the eyes. She's scared, as scared as he, but she didn't want him to die here. He deserved a chance to amend his mistake.
"Do you know where the others went," she asks, "we need to find out if any of them were also coerced, and who else may have been in with Malgrim and his handler."
Skurly's eyes flit anxiously to Talienda as Halgrak tells his tale, almost as if worried for her. Patting the half-orc on the shoulder with uncontrived sympathy, he withdraws and sidles over toward Talib, tugging on his sleeve and muttering to him in Kelish.
"القناص المحظوظ ... هل تعرف ذلك؟ يقولون أن والد الفتاة يملكها. رجل طيب ، أنا متأكد من ذلك ؛ سمعت كلامًا مفاده أن المكان تم إحراقه من قِبل الحكاكين بضغينة ضده. لقد بدأ يبدو وكأنه ضحية أخرى من مؤامرة ضد مورد."
Talib listens to Halgrak's story, nodding patiently even as frustration begins to rear its ugly head. "Nothing out of the ordinary," he reminds himself. Just another piece in the puzzle—soon, he will see the whole picture. Hopefully, it would not come to cost more lives. If only he had more time...
"Thank you for you cooperation," he says to the half-orc. "You are welcome to follow us for safety, if you want, but stay out of our way."
Skurly's eyes flit anxiously to Talienda as Halgrak tells his tale, almost as if worried for her. Patting the half-orc on the shoulder with uncontrived sympathy, he withdraws and sidles over toward Talib, tugging on his sleeve and muttering to him in Kelish.
At Skurly's insistence, the inquisitor steps aside and leans over to facilitate a whispered conversation.
"هم ، مثيرة للاهتمام," he mutters in response to the halfling, glancing to Talienda. "أنا أعرف المؤسسة ، وشيء من سمعتها. لكنني لم أربطها بأبيها. تورطه لا يفعل شيئا يذكر لإثبات له ... الخير ، كما يمكنك وضعه. من الأفضل عدم إثارة المشكلة في الوقت الحالي — إنها بالفعل مروعة للغاية."
Before the group moves on from the lounge, Talib takes a moment to say a few words to Talienda: "You have my gratitude for calming him down. Consoling the bereaved has never been my speciality, and I got the impression Mister Halgrak would not have answered well to more aggressive questioning."
As Talib finishes talking to Talienda and Skurly, the noise of wet and heavy footsteps comes from the entrance door as the mangled body of Malgrim and a disfigured Tablark enter the room. The two ex-jurors lurch towards the group as dark red humours pools at their feet. Halgrak squeals and crawls further toward the south, holding the ice bucket in one arm.
After an uncharacteristic gasp from Sinésiel, she springs to action. She moves up to be in position to intercept any attack against Talienda and prepares to strike either figure if they come close.
"Be careful! It seems Malgrim's dark legacy has come back to haunt us."
Seeing the approaching horrors Rissi calls out a battle chant to the group, "I see we've found two more of the guilty jurors. They need to be convicted and executed.... again it seems."
Tablark goes first, approaching Sinésiel with a macabre grin crowned by the two holes where his eyes used to be. Ready for the approaching dwarf, she strikes and opens a gash on his arm, but Tablark seems to be mostly unfazed by the wound. He tries to claw at the half-elf, but goes wide, barely touching her armour before Sinésiel takes a step back.
Focussed on Tablark, she only realises Malgrim shambling towards her when it's too late. The undead criminal starts running, trips over his own protruding bones and falls on top of Sinésiel, his gory hands digging deep in her stomach.
Talib circles around Malgrim, his falchion held low, striking from behind and below as the recently deceased crook assails Sinésiel.
Sinésiel has trouble thinking straight after that devastating blow from Malgrim. She swings her scimitar at Malgrim but misses terribly. Even flanking with Talib and with Rissi's inspiration she is too weak.
"Tali, I need you to fall back! I can't hold the line very much longer."
"C-c'mon Halgrak! W-w-w-we need to move," she says as she stands and steps around the half-orc to try and get him on his feet.
Skurly, inspite of his prey-crature's instincts for danger, freezes up for a too-long moment as the corpses lurch toward them. Before he has time to react, a dead man's nails are ripping into his friend's stomach, and its more than the little halfling can bear to see.
With a thin, shaky, but whole-hearted battle cry, he hurls himself at the restless dwarf cadaver- no weapon in hand, he can do little more but shuck his pack off his shoulders and heave it into its face. No chance of hurting it but maybe enough to get in its way and make an opening for his stronger, braver comrades.
Using his body weight, Skurly shoves Tablark and throws him off-balance, giving Talib an opportunity for a easy slash. The inquisitor uses his opportunity well and opens a gash on the dwarf's belly. Bits of the dwarf's surprisingly already putrefied intestines drop to the ground.
Amidst the fray, Talib has enough clarity of mind to realise the energies of this place seem to have reanimated the diseased bodies of Tablark and Malgrim as some sort of zombie. From past encounters with these creatures, he recalls that cutting parts of their bodies tends to be more effective than smashing or piercing it.
Meanwhile, Talienda and Halgrak scutter to the south of the room, towards the stairs.
Sinésiel attacks goes wide off its mark, the half-elf reeling after Malgrim's strike.
Talib continues to hack away at the reanimated dwarf, but is having trouble severing any essential appendages.
Seeing the terrible wound on Sinesiel, Rissi moves over behind the lady. "We need to keep you around if we can lady...."
Sinésiel feels a rush of warmth running through her body as Rissi touches her. The relief is short lived as Malgrim bites the half-elf's leg.
Talib, meanwhile, strikes again at Tablark but fails to damage the undead dwarf, who claws at the inquisitor's chest in revenge.
PCs
Talib: step, attack Tablark
Rissi: move, CLW 6
While Skurly's mind is begging him shamelessly to get as far away from the hideous, cavernous gaze of the undead hobgoblin, his body has other ideas. Something stronger than his terror takes control of his legs and arms, and he finds himself stepping closer to the horror, and to the exposed back of the dwarf that was mauling his friend
In an unpracticed and somewhat clumsy motion, he slips his pint-sized rapier from his belt, and with a gasp at his own audacity, shoves it with all his might at the base of its skull.
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Talienda looks over to the horrific fight as Sinesiel cries out again. The young woman stops still, her eyes wide in horror as she truly sees the monsters the others were facing. Her eyes meet Malgrim's dead orbs and a spell of fear falls over her. She remembers how he acted, his apparent pleasure in other's pain. The threat of a bounty on anyone related to her father.
A threat to her.
Tears well up in her eyes. She is going to die. She is going to die with Malgrim's hands around her throat. How does one fight someone that refuses to stay dead? He won't stay dead! He'll keep coming after her, and what can she do? She is certain he would never stop, and she is helpless. She barely knows who to trust now.
It is too much.
Her hand rises up, almost of its own accord. Her fingers curled like they would be holding a brush. Her eyes begin to glow with blue-white light. She feels a pulse of...something. It thrums around her, within her. Her hand traces the motions of a rune she only now realizes she knows. It all seems to happen so slowly and suddenly.
She flinches as a bolt of lightning leaps from her hand with a pop. Her aim is off and the bolt hits the wall on the other side of chamber. For all the surprise it may cause, the bolt itself is rather weak. More impressive is the backlash that tears up Talienda's arm, startling her more than hurting her as it crackles and shreds parts of the sleeve of her jacket and blouse. She yelps and steps back, cradling her arm as the pinprick tingling passes.
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Talib's eyes flash to Talienda's magical mishap for only a second—long enough to ascertain the source of the bolt of lighting, and to determine it is not a direct threat. The inquisitor adjusts his grip and advances on the undead dwarf once more, his attention on the immediate danger: now, he is going for a decisive overhead strike, putting all of his strength behind a guillotine-like slice from above. Methodical and silent in his motions, he lets out no battle-cry.
Seeing the spark of lightning come from Talienda, Sinésiel grins weakly. Now that seems like it will be useful!
Not wanting to give up the flanking position on both opponents, she takes a determined swing at Malgrim in hopes to fell him once again.
The burst of magical energy that sprung from Talienda's fingers attracts the vacant glare of the undead hobglobin. Halgrak, seeing this, jumps forward and throws the ice bucket at Malgrim, spraying ice and pickled half-orc toes over the ground. "Don't you dare lay a finger on her…you…you stupid ugly thing!"
The bucket manages to hit the creature on the chest, but with too weak of an impact to do anything besides bringing Malgrim's attention to Halgrak.
Meanwhile, Skurly stabs Tablark on the area between neck and the base of the skull. Between his lack of physical strength and the zombie's hardiness, however, he fails to damage the dwarf.
Skurly's action is not wasted, however, as it reveals a vulnerable spot which Talib makes prompt use of. His overhead swing strikes diagonally and severs old Tablark's corpse in two, releasing the dark powers that were animating it.
Sinésiel, seeing the first of the creatures vanquished, directs her attention to Malgrim. Though her strike chops the hobglobin's arm off, he seems to barely notice it. Perhaps some remnant of Malgrim's previous being remains and is as intent in terrorising the weak as ever: he lumbers towards Halgrak.
The half-orc meets his tormentor once again as the undead Malgrim grabs Halgrak and bites him on the neck. Halgrak yelps, trying to shove Malgrim away with one hand and feebly protecting Talienda with the other. Blood streams down his neck.
Talienda's cry rings out over the din of the fight as she sees the half-orc sorely wounded. Unsure of what is happening and what she can or needs to do, she begins to panic again, clutching at her head and giving a scream that was equal parts fear, anguish, and pain as lightning burned in her mind. Runes, over a half-dozen of them, burn in her mind. One thing came to her mind then.
Kill Malgrim.
Her left hand rises this time, tracing a jagged and violent rune in the air, different form the first one she had done. Another bolt of lightning appears from the rune as it flares to life. Unlike the other bolt, this one shoots off in wild, sharp angles that seems to be sure to miss until it slams into Malgrim's shoulder. Talienda gasps as she gulps down air, not even sure if she is about burst out sobbing or screaming. Blue-white arcs of flame dance around her even as her mind blazes in agony.
Seeing Talib cleave the undead dwarf in half, where his own blade hadn't done so much as scratch it, Skurly is reminded of an important fact: that he is small, weak, and no kind of hero whatsoever. Even Talienda, who moments before had seemed just as hapless as himself, had proven to be a sleeping giant. Leave the monster-slaying to the tallfolk, he thinks, and do what you do best: be in the way of things.
Turning to the still-rampant corpse of Malgrim, he thrust out his flimsy blade, not to strike but to annoy and hinder- any move the corpse made toward Halgrak would be met with a mosquito-like flurry of pokes and prods, nothing of a threat but hopefully enough of an annoyance to buy the fellow some breathing room.
While not normally courageous (at all) Rissi decides that she needs to at least try to help. She draws her rapier and steps in to try and hurt the undead monster. Her rapier touches the creature, penetrating slightly but does no actual damage.
As Skurly repeatedly punctures Malgrim's remaining arm, hampering and throwing the hobglobin off balance whenever it moves, Talienda continues on her barely controlled burst of magic. This time, the bolt strikes true, blowing a chunk out of the undead creature's torso.
Rissi's stab is less successful: it draws blood, but fails to either damage a useful limb or sever the connection between the corpse and the negative energy that animates it.
Sinésiel, still rather grievously wounded herself, cries out when she sees Halgrak get hit. Dawnflower guide my blade... She lashes out with her scimitar to great effect, hoping that this will put Malgrim down to a final rest.
Taking full advantage of the distraction provided by his companions, Talib circles around Malgrim and tries to lop the mouldering hobgoblin's head off. Legs set into a wide stance, he swings his sword in a wide horizontal arc, maintaining a one-handed grip until for the last bit of correction, where he guides it home. The weight of the blade does most of the work: landing the blow is the hard part—directing all that built-up momentum to a point.
Knowing that her bardic magic will soon lapse, Rissi stays in place but calls out a combat chants to continue the enhancement of her allies attacks.
Halgrak screams in fear, waving an arm in his frantic attempts to shove Malgrim away. The half-orc manages to get his attacker away from himself for a few seconds with a strong push and the chance is seized by Talib and Sinésiel who strike Malgrim down as Rissi empowers their strikes with her war chant; one cuts down Malgrim's remaining arm; the other, his head.
Suddenly there's silence. Both animated corpses lie maimed on the floor.
Talienda stumbles back from the gruesome display, her mind ablaze with pain. She screams again, thankfully only for a moment, as she falls to her knees and holds her sides. Every now and then, a bit of lightning arcs up or down her causing her to shudder.
Seeing Talib and Sinesiel chop the second zombied juror down Rissi tries to relax, then notices the pretty Talienda fall to her knees. While Rissi is fairly certain that the human girl is older than she is, ratfolk tend to live faster than the larger folk so she adopts a matronly attitude as she reaches up to pat the girl on her shoulder.
"There there Talienda, let it out but then try to pull yourself together. We have to pull together to survive, and I know I don't want to end up like those two. Or has your magic got you upset? Did you know you could do that? That was an impressive display if you did it all by instinct. But now focus on it and pull it back in to yourself. There are no enemy left to blast. Just focus, relax and control. You can do it girl...."
Letting out a sigh of relief, Sinésiel takes a step back and sits down on the sofa behind her. No way we can manage another attack like that. We need to be so careful from here.
"I've got enough in me to administer some healing to one person," she says, trying to keep her nervousness at bay. "I think Halgrak and Talib have the worst of it. I wish I could do more, but I'm at my limit myself."
"Rissi's right, by the way. You did a great job there Talienda. Being a sorceress is a rare gift. A gift you could hone to do some real good for the world. We'll get out of here as long as we stick together."
Halgrak, still coming to terms with the fact he had been attacked by the reanimated corpse of Malgrim, sits down on the spot, head hanging low and breathing heavily.
A few humid stains on Halgrak's trousers seem to indicate he soiled himself a bit when trying to protect Talienda and tussle with the undead.
Talib glances down at the blood-dark tears marring the front of his tunic and winces, as if only now realising he was wounded. He wipes his falchion on Malgrim's corpse, but does not sheathe it. "Hm. Abadar willing, I may survive one more injury of that magnitude—but no more."
The inquisitor makes no comment on Talienda's outburst, but monitors the situation closely. This development may yet prove to be an unexpected boon, but only if the young woman could learn to control her newfound powers—an out-of-control sorceress might easily do more damage than a couple of zombies.
It takes a while for Talienda's emotions to spend themselves and the pain in her head to fade to a dull ache. The arcs of lightning grow smaller and smaller as her sobs grow softer and softer until they vanish entirely. She hears the others speaking, but has a little trouble making sense of the words until her fit of turmoil is through.
"I... I don't know what is happening to me," she says hoarsely as she struggles to her feet. Pale, smooth skin peeking through the cloth where the magical backlash had shredded the right shoulder of her blouse and jacket reveals that despite the ferocity it first showed, it hadn't done any damage to the young woman. "I-I'm just a painter and musician," she says, looking at the others, tears in her eyes and down her cheeks. "I n-n-n-never had the aptitude for magic. I... I don't know if I am a-a sorceress or whatever you called me."
As frightened as she is by the reappearance of Malgrim and Tablark, she is even more frightened by the power she apparently has and doesn't understand. Still, she manages to remain in control of herself. The horrors of this night pushing her past her limits and into a place where she is able to distance herself from what is happening, though it is still affecting her.
"D-d-does anyone have some water," she asks rubbing her forehead, "I don't feel right."
Siné will cast create water into her waterskin and hand it over to Talienda. "Here you go," she says warmly. "If you don't want anything to do with magic when we leave here that's totally up to you. While we're trapped in here, though, it might just save our lives again."