Talienda gratefully accepts the waterskin and drinks greedily from it. After almost draining it, she hands it back to Sine with an apologetic look.
"I-is Halgrak alright? He... He stepped in to help me and..."
Skurly is slow to react to the sudden stillness in the room. The force of Talib and Sinesiel's combined assault had sent a thick, sticky wave of coagulated blood and viscera directly at him, and he's only now cleared his eyes of the gore; his normally-voluminous bush of hair is plastered to his scalp.
He ambles over toward Talienda, a little shakily, and offers a wan smile.
"See, Miss Talienda? Bet you never knew you had it in- y-y-you..."
His face is still caked in red, but where the skin shows through, it turns a slightly greenish shade of white. He turns to the side, and lets an orc-sized gout of vomit loose over the toes of his boots.
"Urgh... pardon me," he offers faintly. "Something's not sitting right with my tummy...
He plops down next to Halgrak, doing his best impression of a smile. A generous observer would call it "a good effort"; a more critical eye might call it "ghoulish".
"You're a hero now, you old sod. How's it feel?"
"Considering that Halgrak isn't going to be on the front lines fighting whatever else comes after us, I think I'll do what I can for you Talib."
With her dove figurine in hand Siné lays a hand on Talib and casts cure light wounds.
Luckily for Talib, the surge of healing seems to be especially effective. "Though I may not have the true blessings of the Dawnflower it appears that both she and the Master of the First Vault smile upon us in this trying time." She smiles sheepishly at Talib and puts the figurine back in her belt pouch. Refilling her waterskin she hands it off to Skurly and Halgrak.
Here's to hoping he doesn't chide me for my optimism. We could all use it, especially Tali and Skurly.
"She can smile all she want, we'll all be dead real soon, miss, real soon…Mord's gonna hang us all…wonder how long till I croak…" Halgrak says, his panic from before seemingly turned into bitter acceptance and defeat.
"N-no, I did--" Her answer is cut off as Skurly loses his last meal all over the floor. The smells from the undead and the little one's leavings cause her to turn green at the gills and look away as she chokes back her stomach's contents.
A newly formed path in her mind gives her a headache as she wishes from something to rid the place of the smell. The pain doesn't help with her nausea, but it does help her focus. Again her hand moves as if painting a canvas, but instead of lightning, a gentle breeze swirls over Skurly and the puddle on the floor, cleaning them.
The smell now disappearing, she relaxes some and looks at Halgrak as he bemoans his fate.
"Halgrak, please don't talk like that," she asks him, "I know this can't be any easier for you than for me, probably even less so. If we think like that, though, what hope have we?"
Rissi smiles at the young woman. She starts casting a spell over the area of Talienda's blouse that is torn. "You may not have aptitude for magic, but you have the power. I think sorceresses cast spells more by will power than by magical aptitude and training. But you have to admit that magic is useful. For example, if you happen to tear your clothing...."
.
"Thank you Rissi," Talienda says as she watches the clothed mend itself as if it hadn't been shredded by wildly arcing lightning. "It just... frightens me. I have a power I don't understand. What if I hurt someone with it? I... I wanted to kill Malgrim when he showed up again... I wanted him to disappear and never come back."
The admission shakes the young woman, but she can't deny that she wanted that, nor can she deny that she feels better now, even the dull headache was fading. She doesn't feel so helpless even if she has no idea how she is supposed to control this new found power. Then a thought comes over her.
"Are you a sorceress, Rissi?"
The refreshing breeze, bidden out of nowhere, returns some of the color to Skurly's face. He seems far more impressed by this, and by the eldritch repair of Tali's garments, than the eldritch bolts of lightning she'd called before. He smiles gratefully and clambers to his feet.
A look of resolute concentration fixes itself on his brows. Let them rest and recover, he thinks. Time for you to get your hands dirty.
He waddles over to the pile of hewn flesh that was once a terrifying hobgoblin gangster, and begins to methodically and thoroughly pick through the remains. With scrupulous attention to every last detail, he begins with the head and works his way down, searching over the dead skin, turning out pockets, unbuckling fasteners and clasps to search for hidden caches, and doesn't stop until he's pulled off the boots and overturned them. If Malgrim had been carrying some sign of what had lead to this moment, and the blackhearted conspiracy that brought them all here, Skurly was not going to let it go unfound.
Rissi chuckles, "A sorceress? No, but my magic is similar. I'm a bard. I can use magic to power my music and chants and can cast a couple of simple spells. Most of what I can do can be done much better by a sorceress, or for example with the spell I can cast that heals, a cleric. It's versatile, just not very strong. When you learn to control your, magic it will be very impressive I am sure."
Luckily for Talib, the surge of healing seems to be especially effective. "Though I may not have the true blessings of the Dawnflower it appears that both she and the Master of the First Vault smile upon us in this trying time." She smiles sheepishly at Talib and puts the figurine back in her belt pouch.
The inquisitor studies the knitting-together of his rent flesh with the detachment of a surgeon, and then rotates that very same inspecting gaze upon Sinésiel. His scrutiny lasts for only a couple of seconds, but for the patient, the moments awaiting the kiss of the scalpel are the longest imaginable.
"My gratitude," he finally says, inclining his head in a shallow bow. "You fight well. Not in the technical sense, perhaps, but you have... conviction. Hold on to that clarity, behold yourself through its lens, and it may yet see you to your truth."
Skurly collects all his finds in a pile next to Malgrim's corpse: a gold cigar case filled with 9 cigars, the hobglobin's spiked chain that was still wrapped around his neck, a fine albeit bloodied studded leather armour, a small necklace pouch filled with gold and silver humanoid teeth, presumably taken from his victims and a small vial filled with a transparent liquid.
This is a potion of cure moderate wounds that Malgrim never got to use.
The cigar case is worth 20gp. Both the leather armour and the chain are masterwork items.
Sinésiel smiles and nods at Talib's words. Praise doesn't come easy from that one. Hopefully he trusts me by now.
Taking a look at the pile that Skurly made, she focuses on the vial in particular. "Lucky find there, Skurly! This is a rather effective healing potion. Certainly more effective than anything I can do."
She pats the halfling on the shoulder and looks back at Talib and Rissi in particular. "Either of you see anything special about Malgrim's other odds and ends?"
While the others go through the belongings of the two now dead jurors, Talienda sits off to the side, trying to come to grips with what is happening to her. She knew what some of the runes now blazing in her mind did, but not all. She could feel the power in them, and she focused on the ones of lesser strength thinking them to be the safest option. She traced another rune in the air, slowly and carefully to feel it and how it changed as she mimed painting the rune. Glowing lines hang on nothing as she casts the spell and feels the weave of magic bend to her will.
She finds that the magic is seeking someone, anyone, to complete the spell. She looks to Rissi and almost before she realizes it, the rune is finished and she feels a connection to the ratfolk.
"I wonder what that did," she whispers to herself, or so she thinks.
You hear a whisper that sounds like Talienda in your ear.
"I wonder what that did?"
Talib picks up the cigar case and gives its contents a look-over, smelling one of the bundles thoughtfully. Finally, he shrugs, managing to look uncharacteristically sheepish. "Hm. Alas, I have inherited little of my foremothers' business sense..."
Rissi glances at the 'oods and ends' from Malgrim, casting a quick spell to check for magic. "Well, you already identified the potion, right? The box looks pretty, but I don't know how valuable it might be. Personally I can't stand the stink of cigars...."
Hearing the distant whisper from Talienda Rissi grins, and whispers a reply. "Talienda, that is a very useful spell. Try it again, but focus on other people. And try two or more people at once. You can do it!"
Halgrak whimpers a half-hearted apology to Talienda before going completely silent. At Talib's suggestion, and with the uneasy awareness that Jarbin Mord might return at any moment, the group moves to the bailiff's quarters.
This dark, dank room contains only a trio of couches, two large wooden cabinets -- one on the north of the room , the other on the south -- and a worn-down rug with multiple black stains. One of the sofas is turned upside down and another has been ripped apart, most of its padding now exposed and blackened by mould.
The stains on the rug are dried blood. Looking more attentively, they seem to form a trail that leads to the southernmost cabinet .
Talib notes the stains on the rug, following them with his eyes to the southernmost corner. He points out the trail for others and mouths, "Blood," before moving silently towards the closest cabinet. He tries to open it with the blade of his falchion, keeping a ways away and slightly to the side of the door.
Though not quite as quickly as Talib does, Sinésiel takes note of the bloodstains and follows closely behind him. She draws both scimitar and broken wand just in case.
For the first time since finding out about her father, Talienda smiles. It was strange how much better Rissi made her feel with her comforting words. Turning to Halgrak, she grabs his arm and walks with him as they move to the next room. She does practice her magic, finding that she can do something like what Rissi had done ot her clothes, patching up the holes in Halgrak's tunic where he'd been hurt.
"We'll get through this," she reassures him. "You'll see."
Any good cheer Talienda may have been feeling melts away under the grim spectre of the scene of some violent crime. The young woman hangs back with Halgrak, not sure where her newfound talents would be useful.
Skurly, seeing that no one else seemed to pay them much mind, stuffed Malgrim's dental trophies into his pack- not for the value of the gold and silver they were composed of, but for the chance- however slim- that they would reveal themselves as unanticipated but crucial pieces of the deadly puzzle they found themselves within.
"Malgrim had quality work done on his gear," he groused in frustration. "A lot of good that'll do us to know. That cigar case would fetch enough to let a man live decently through the better part of a winter without one day's work- I suppose he's missing it, wherever he's gone to."
Frowning in consternation, which causes the drying blood on his face to crackle and flake, he takes up his crossbow again and follows Talib into the adjacent room. As his leader opens the door, he trains his aim on its interior, a little more confidently than he had before.
With no little amount of dread, Talib opens the doors of the large closet. Talienda's head races with images of yet another grim scene, whilst Skurly tries to keep his own mind clear and his finger ready to release the bolt.
For a moment, however, they relax as this seems to be a stash of supplies kept by the bailiff in case of emergencies. The group finds an array of weapons, ammunition and other potentially useful items. A sheet of paper affixed to the inside of one the doors seems to list the available inventory.
Inventory (first of Lamashan, 4698 AR)
• 2x heavy crossbow
• 50 crossbow bolts
• 4x longsword
• 4x dagger
• 4x chainmail
• 4x light steel shield
• 8x potions CLW
• 2x tanglefoot bags
• 2x smokesticks
Sinésiel picks up one of the potion vials and inspects it.
"Well, can't hurt to try," she says, shrugging and then downing the vial of liquid.
The liquid tastes bitter with an even worse aftertaste, but Sinésiel cannot deny it is very envigorating.
Rissi squeeks when Sinesiel quaffs the potion, but is glad to see the wounds healing. "Careful! That could've just as likely been poison. Have to carefully examine everything here...."
"Better poison than one of Percival K. V. Donanthal's trashy romance novels," Talienda says offhandedly as she moves to join the others, hoping that Halgrak would come along. Strangely, she found that she felt a little better remembering trying to read through the purple prose and clumsy metaphors and innuendo. Maybe a bit of levity was needed.
"I met him at a dinner party one night about a year ago and he called on me a few times over the next weeks. Apparently his works are the latest trend in scandalous reading that debutantes titter about behind their fans. He knew this, though I didn't at the time and he figured a good way to get in good with me was to gift mer his collected works," she says, a smile growing on her face as another memory of happier times comes back. "The prose was very much fo the violet variety and the innuendo so blatant and clumsy that I thought it had to be satire or parody, but then I overhear him using one of the lines from his novels on another girl. One of the most horrendous, unpoetic, and groan inducing ones at that. I'm afraid that I made him rather cross when I couldn't help myself and started laughing."
She giggles for a moment before continuing.
"After what he said to me, he made his would-be paramour rather cross, too. The look on his face when she slapped him was glorious and I wish I could have frozen time then so I could paint it."
Sinésiel blushes at Rissi's admonition. "Looked fine to me," she says deferentially. "I feel much better, but if you could check the rest so that we can take them along that would be delightful. Thanks for looking out for everyone, Rissi."
Turning to Talienda and listening to her story, Sinésiel can't help but smile at the young woman opening up a bit. "When we get out of here I'll have to commission a painting from you," she says, striking a cheesy heroic pose. "I might have to drop this whole fake-priestess act though. It's about time I grew up and stopped living in my mother's shadow, after all. Maybe you could help me find a new look? I've never been good with that sort of thing."
The distant sound of a clock sounding 9 times, announcing the arrival of the new hour as Rissi fails to find any traces of magic in the room besides the potions. Taking small sips of each one, she confirms the inventory is accurate and the 7 remaining vials contain restorative magics.
The brief respite of finding the supplies is soon over, with the group once again painfully aware of the looming menace of Jarbin Mord's ghost.
Talib looks closely through the bailiff's inventory, dismissing the armaments for the more easily portable alchemicals.
"Divide those evenly," he says once the nature of the potions has been confirmed. "That way, we will each be capable of caring for ourselves, and providing assistance to others if needed. Geddinloe, I think you should hold onto the tanglefoot bags and smokesticks. They might prove useful."
Determined not to let the oppressive circumstances obstruct his investigation, Talib moves for the southeastern cabinet. He motions for everyone to get into position, and then repeats his door-opening procedure: easing open the door with his sword, he tries to keep at a distance and slightly off to the side.
Skurly makes no effort to conceal his glee as he receives the alchemical wonders, childish joy spreading over his face and completing the craquelure pattern of dried gore over his cheeks and the corners of his eyes. "If I could've laid hands on these when I was a boy- my brothers would be dying of envy!" With almost reverential care, he tucks them into the pockets of his vest, before taking up his crossbow again and resuming his watch- this time, though, remembering having been caught unaware by the animated corpses, he aims at the doorway.
"I have the rear secured, Mr. Talib! Nothing to fear from behind while I'm here!" His soft little spirit seems buoyed, almost cocky.
Talienda's pulse races as she stands back and lets the others in armor deal with the closet with the blood trail leading to it.
Sinésiel moves up to be between Talib and the rest of the group with her wand and scimitar drawn.
Rissi packs a potion carefully in her belt pouch and takes a position in the back where she can watch.
The doors burst open, casting wooden shards about the room. A wretched corpse of a man gives a hideous cry as it emerges from the cabinet. The faded blue uniform of a bailiff clings to its bony shoulders in rags and a hand axe protrudes from its chest. The corpse’s veins and arteries have been pulled out through jagged gashes in its wrists and shoulders and now dangle like leathery marionette’s strings. An angry wail issues forth in the darkness above and the veins float upward. The bailiff's corpse begins to jerk about like a distorted puppet at the whim of some malevolent force before jumping towards Talib.
A less observant group would have been caught unawares by the creature, but thanks to Sinésiel and Talib the group responds quickly to the somewhat already expected menace.
Skurly yelps like a dog whose tail has been stepped on, and whirls around to face the threat, the plucky bravado of moments before evaporating in a flash of terror. Still, he's not so gutless as to shirk his duty, slipping past Rissi and Talienda to get a clear shot at the horror, and letting a crossbow bolt fly.
Talienda's hand flies through the air as she traces the first rune she'd used. A bolt of lightning crackles across the room to strike the animated corpse before she's even realized what she was doing.
"What happened to him?!" Her question comes out more as a squeak than anything normal, but at least she is in control of her fear and not surrendering to it like before. "Why would they kill him so horribly?"
Sinésiel steps forward and takes a deliberate slash with her scimitar. "Glad we were ready for this one!" she shouts. "About time we were ahead of the surprises!"
Sinésiel's scimitar cuts off several the strings of flesh that seem to be manipulating the creature, though she is unable to shake off the feeling the strike was not as effective as she expected. Almost at the same time, Skurly's bolt pierces the corpse's torso, piercing the creature; the wound closes itself immediately.
It is only when Talienda's bolt of lightning strikes the monster that it seems to be hurt, bits of rotten skin burning and filling the air with a sweet and smokey smell. The corpse slumps to the ground, at first twitching and then completely immobile.
"I-is it dead," Talienda asks. Her breathing is hard, more from the sudden fright than exertion.
"That was suspiciously easy..."
Not knowing exactly what he is dealing with, Talib decides to make sure the monster is—and remains—dead. Assuming an executioners stance, he brings his falchion down on the corpse's neck.
Talienda jumps at Talibs brutal strike, letting out a yelp. She hadn't expected it, but it did make sense to her.
"Sh-should we burn it as well?"
As Talib's falchion is about to hit the neck, the corpse's springs back to un-life and tries to hold the blade with its bare hands. What follows is a fierce contest of strength, the creature squirming and flailing; at times it seems to be gaining the upper hand, but Talib at last takes one extra step, forcing his foot against the monster's chest, frees the blade for a moment and brings it down with full force once more. The desiccated head rolls under the sofa at the same time an inhuman cry echoes all around them.
A dark shade coalesces from the ceiling, roughly female in shape and covered in long veils of smoke and shadow. The room, suddenly extremely hot, pulsates with heat and anger.
Initially skeptical of the need of what Talib was doing, Sinésiel rather immediately becomes appreciative of the older man's wisdom and experience.
What is THAT?
Rissi stares at the ghostly creature that appears, screaming, after the 'puppet' is slain. Without a guess at what it is she stays back just adding her battle chant to the melee.
Sinésiel believes this is an undead shadow, the lingering spirit of a deceased sentient being. There is something different about this one, however, if the description she once read in a book is to be trusted: these creatures should be silent and solely concerned with draining the strength out of living bodies, not screaming in a fit of rage.
"Wh-what do you want from us," Talienda asks in a quavering voice after a long moment of silence.
Talib stalks closer to the apparition, while motioning the others to keep their distance. He makes no aggressive gestures, but keeps his sword at the ready.
Skurly cringes, both from the terrifying aspect of the apparition, and the suddenly sweltering temperature of the room. His face immediately produces a comical deluge of sweat, carving wide rivulets through the dried blood on his face. For the moment, he is stricken silent, mind racing to think of anything that might spare them the fate of the mutilated bailiff.
The shadow's shape moves like a cloud until its face is centimetres away from Talienda's. The young Blackhorn heiress feels a suffocating wave of heat as completely black eyes darker than anything that she could have ever dreamt of stare at her, searching for something…that seems not to be there. With a cry of frustration, the creature fluidly floats upwards again and disappears into the ceiling.
Observing this, Talib also identifies the creature as a shadow: a creature that drains the strength of the living to sustain its undead existence; compounding the danger is the fact the creature is mostly incorporeal and striking it with weapons tends to be grossly ineffective.
The encounter shakes Talienda more than she would ever want to admit and when it is over, she falls to her knees gasping for air.
"I-it was looking for something," Talienda says, her voice hoarse and dry. "Guilt?"
She staggers back to her feet and tries to swallow, but her throat is too dry.
"S-sine? I think everyone's going to need some water."
Talib breathes out, glad not to be facing an incorporeal opponent. "Whatever it was looking for, it clearly did not find it. Well done."
He walks back to the corpse, bending over to pull the handaxe out of its chest. The inquisitor looks at the weapon appraisingly, and then peers past the now-stilled cadaver into the cabinet, scanning its interior thoroughly. "What in the world were you doing in there...?"