Vera steps up to the door, and peers into the rafters. She’s startled and exclaims ”oh - I don’t know what those are, but… maybe this will help.” She zots the rafters up above with a flash of light.
She glances at Magda, ”it’s okay Mags - it’s just magic. I know the spell - it’ll wear off. You can’t hurt me much - just take a few deep breaths to try and steady yourself - I won’t let him get away,” She smiles at her friend.
Salvator grabs the knob, nods at Olenna, and pulls. The door opens onto the street above, and it’s clear there’s a more jagged crack on the outer wall, and the door that was painted seems to be trying to work correctly, but that this stretches the limit of the magic paints. The other side of the door is the outer wall of the townhouse. He grabs one more set of brown and white paints, and with remarkable speed, makes a painted sketch of a rope ladder. He wipes his brow, and smiles slightly ”there, inspector. If you can secure it somewhere - we can escape if we need to.” Laori claps her hands excitedly, then glances back towards the other room. She sees Magda in distress and slinks back toward the shaman, putting her chain away, and extending her hands towards Magda. Magda hears the cleric say, quietly, ”if you try to hurt someone - I’ll grab you, okay? But… it might hurt a little - fair warning.”
Pilts steps north a short distance, raises a hand, and begins to speak, ”harlot of the grey, you have no power here - you smell of the sewer and likely look of one as well!” His words while juvenile and less eloquent than before, seem to make the grey maiden feel terrible. He raises his voice, seemingly to the rafters, ”riches, meat - you will be wealthy enough to leave the shingles! But the comfort is, you shall be called to no more payments, fear no more tavern-bills! All I have is yours if you kill these bastards!”
There’s a guttural, wet shriek that comes from the ceiling. In response, twelve arms that more look like tentacles than anything else, extend from the rafters above, one after another, grabbing at the three in the room. Four of the arms are flailing around, almost at random.
"Gah! What fresh abomination...?" Yaziyah slaps away one of the tentacles that tries to grab her, keeping her focus on Pilts.
"No" Mags says, a flat angry loathing in her voice, coupled with a breaking of her confidence. Instead of taking the offer, she ignores the whispers and rushes into the room, dropping her spear, and drawing a dagger as she goes.
Laori lets Magda run into the room without trying to grab her.
Magda’s attack gets rid of the last mirror image on Pilts Swastel.
The Gray Maiden, momentarily staggered by Pilts' crude taunts, regains her composure. The sickening words, designed to demoralize, seem to fuel her determination rather than diminish it.
As she evades the grotesque tentacles descending from the rafters, her movements are agile and precise. Her swordplay during this onslaught is a spectacle of skill and precision. She launches a series of rapid strikes at Pilts, each one delivered with the intent to incapacitate. The first two strikes are particularly forceful and particularly well struck.
There is little else to do save hack Pilts to pieces.
Vera is most definitely perturbed by the sudden appearance of tentacle arms. "Gah, what are those weird things?"
Regardless, she sees fit to blast them with a burst of radiance! (Who knows if they see? But no matter!)
The space Magda stepped on seems to be unstable, and she scrambles to tries desperately not to fall to the building area below.
Magda manages to get away from the rotten wood before it collapses. Magda stumbles next to Marcus.
Laori follows Magda into the room, and sees Pilts surrounded.
She grins at everyone and raises her hand to her side, as if waiting for something. She spins her spiked chain in the other hand, languidly.
The emperor flits his eyes towards the monsters in the ceiling and points at Magda, then says, ”her - her! A hostage if nothing else.”
Magda
Marcus
Yazi
Two of the tentacles dart down to Magda and Yazi, and with phenomenal strength, drag the pair off of the ground a short distance by the neck. The tentacles wrap around their necks like vices, squeezing them and the pair scrabble at their throats trying to breathe - but no air comes.
The Emperor of Old Korvosa licks his pallid lips, steps away slightly, and straightens his bedraggled crown, and raises his hands - ”yes - yes - a parlay, perchance? You keep that — whatever that is - “ he points at Laori, who is smiling happily at him, and watching closely, ”that absurd, becostumed abomination out of this room - and away from me, and my servants won’t wring their … well, erm - “pretty” necks. “ Even with his back against the wall, the Emperot can’t seem to contain his arrogance. His eyes flick to Laori, nervously, like he is prey being hunted. As if in reaction, the monsters in the rafters tight their grips slightly
Magda cares about nothing other than stabbing the nearest thing, the rubber tentacle around her neck. Not even caring if the blade digs into her own.
Her hammer clatters on the floor as her hands lose their grip and fly to her throat reflexively. Yaziyah struggles feebly against the tentacle wound around her neck, feet kicking. Her eyes dart desperately to Magda, then to Pilts.
The armored warrior watches Yazi and Magda struggle to breathe as Pilts steps away and rattles some filth about what he wants and will do. She does her best to decipher his intentions. She then looks back at Laori, wondering if she will take it upon herself to leave and save these people's lives.
Ultimately the decision she makes is clear when she steps forward, blade in hand, intending to strike Pilts down.
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When the Gray Maiden approaches Pilts Swastel, relentlessly staring down the Emperor of Old Korvosa, two things happen in quick succession. The first - fumbling, and cursing, the Emperor starts casting a spell. By the hand movements, it's not a lower-level spell.
In response, almost as if she's expecting it, Laori snaps her fingers, and four barbed chains burst out of the wood below Pilt's feet, attempting to flay him.
Most of the chains hit Pilts in the legs and nether regions, the shadowy spikes digging into him as he tries to cast his spell.
He fumbles, and the magic is wasted.
The last chain wraps around his ankles and pulls him to the ground, and he as he cries out in pain, the chains wrap around his throat, legs, and arms, and mouth and the Emperor of Old Korvosa is silenced, as he looks up in fear at The Gray Maiden for a brief moment before dropping unconscious due to the agony, just in time for the chains to disappear. Laori seems to be savoring it, but collecting herself, she says, "the monsters - just kill them. He was bluffing - cut Magda and Yazi down!"
Marcus doesn't hesitate, drawing one of the dangling chakrams from the small of his back and flinging it sidearm up at the tentacle grasping Magda.
"I need a reach weapon!" He roars out loud to no one in particular, especially since their normal reach weapon users were currently dangling.
Magda drops to the ground as the chakram spins from Marcus, slicing into the weird humanoid with tentacle arms. The monster falters, lets go of Magda, and then collapses from the rafters, dropping with a splat on the ground in front of everyone.
With a thud, the chakram embeds in a wood beam somewhere in the darkness of the roof,
Magda collapses to the floor, heaving as air tries to make it back into her throat, but it feels so tight. Like she is still being choked. Panic floods her confused eyes and she attempts to hack away the phantom tentacle from her throat.
"Let them go!" Seeing that her magic seemed to be quite effective, Vera sends another blast!
Vera’s blast of light burns away the evil monsters even further, who screech and drop to the ground in wet plops. The two that are fighting with Yazi throw her to the side of the room. and despite her size and weight, she flies 15 feet before slamming into a wall.
Hissing, the little creatures scamper up into the darkness through some hidden hole and are gone.
Magda lays on the ground, writhing. The emperor remains unconscious, barely alive and bleeding out.
Laori rushes over to Magda and puts down her chain. She kneels over the teen and grabs her hands gently, though the points on her spiked gauntlets dig into Magda’s hands slightly. The confusion on Magda’s face abates for a moment as she begins to focus on trying to hurt Laori. The cleric looks up, ”pain - it is a salve - it distracts her from hurting herself worse. She’s safe, but I have to hold her down.”
She glances at Pilts and licks her lips, and offers cheerfully as Mags struggles a bit. ”well, he was a bad egg wasn’t he. I could dispose of him before he starts to stink up the place too much, if you want someone to, but if you want it to be enjoyable - you have to keep him alive.”
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Gasping and coughing, Yaziyah struggles to all fours and crawls to Magda's side, wrapping the girl in a tight embrace. "Shh, shh, it's alright. You're fine, you're good, everything is alright." Her normally raspy voice sounds even rougher, a weak croak hissing from her damaged throat.
"Thank you. For helping her." She looks at Laori, then at the body of Pilts, the Emperor of Korvosa. "Too dangerous alive."
The Gray Maiden stands amidst the aftermath of the battle, her gaze fixed on the prone form of Pilts Swastel, waiting to see if he will rise again. While the others talk and check on each other, she steps forward with purpose, her armored boots echoing with resolute thuds on the wooden floor.
Standing over The Emperor, her stance embodies the authority and finality of the judgment she is about to pass. In a voice that resonates with the weight of duty and justice, she declares "By the decree of Her Majesty, Queen Ileosa Arabasti, under the statutes of Korvosan law, I invoke Article 17 of the Royal Edicts. This article grants the Queen's appointed agents, including the Gray Maidens, the authority to enact immediate judgment in cases of high treason, acts of terrorism, and threats against the crown and the people of Korvosa. Your actions, Pilts Swastel, have been deemed a direct threat to the peace and safety of Korvosa and its citizens. Thus, under this authority, I execute the sentence of death as a just retribution for your crimes."
With no hesitation, the Gray Maiden raises her sword high. With a swift, decisive motion, she brings the sword down in a clean arc, severing Pilts' head from his body with a cold efficiency.
After executing Pilts, the Gray Maiden turns towards the others with poise and discipline. Her movements are deliberate, and her posture reflects a mix of authority and readiness. She addresses the group, her voice carrying the same stern, commanding tone that she used during the confrontation. "Your cooperation in this matter is acknowledged and appreciated," she begins, her tone slightly softened compared to her earlier demands. "The threat posed by Pilts Swastel has been neutralized. This serves the greater good of Korvosa and its people."
When The Gray Maiden executes Pilts, Magda feels the confusion in her mind disappear. Laori eases up a moment, and then casts a spell to heal the young woman, the positive energy passing over Magda and making her feel better.
The scars can be removed if she is healed with magical healing from a higher level spell from a priest that channels positive energy normally.
Laori cheerily adds, in response to The Gray Maiden’s actions, ”good for you! We certainly appreciated your help. Now - if everyone is feeling a little recovered, I’m to go make sure Olenna and Salvator are safe.” She pats Magda on the arm, and stand up, excusing herself back to Salvator’s makeshift cell.
Yaziyah looks thoughtfully at the faint scars left after Laori's healing. "How do you feel?" she asks Magda gently, stroking the young woman's back.
She spares a glance over her shoulder at the somewhat self-righteous execution; it was strange to be aligned in this with the queen's agent, but the man was - had been, a cancer. He needed to be removed, excised, burned away. The Shoanti raises her head to look at Marcus.
"Marcus, would you come here. Please."
As the warrior approaches, Yaziyah's gaze mutely indicates Magda's fresh scars. "Laori healed her. I can make them go away, with more powerful magic than she used. Perhaps..." She leaves the rest unsaid. Perhaps something similar would work on Marius's own scars. But for now, he is in need of healing as well, so she reaches out.
Observing Yaziyah, the Gray Maiden offers her thoughts on the matter "Your offer holds kindness, healer, and the desire to ease suffering is commendable. But remember, not all scars are a burden. They are stories written upon our flesh, tales of survival, strength, and sometimes, the price of our duties and beliefs. To remove them can sometimes mean to erase the history they embody. They are reminders of what we've endured and overcome. While your magic can heal the flesh, the lessons and memories carried in these scars are not so easily wiped away. They shape us, guide us, and in their own way, protect us from forgetting the trials that forged us into who we are."
. "Well that's curious," she mumbles. It seemed Yazi understood as well, so she leaves it be.
Instead, she looks to the Gray Maiden. "We're glad for your help. But to be honest, I didn't expect to see a Gray Maiden in Old Korvosa. Aren't your orders maintaining the quarantine, rather than entering this place?"
Mags struggled, bit, frothed, and then finally slumps to the floor. "I'm okay" the half orc whispers to Yazi, though she keeps her eyes closed and doesn't seem inclined to move.
Cat starts to move to her, but then stops. He sits, staying away.
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The armored figure of the Gray Maiden stands in silence, her posture rigid within her imposing armor. The absence of visible body language or facial expressions under the helmet leaves her thoughts and emotions hidden, building a sense of suspense in the air.
After a few moments, her voice cuts through the silence, less commanding than before, marked by hesitations and pauses as she carefully navigates her words.
"You are right to question my presence here, given the standing orders," she begins, her tone slightly unsteady. "There are... two reasons why I am standing beside you today, instead of against you."
"The Maidens' duties are to uphold the quarantine, however... the situation in Korvosa is... complex," she continues, her voice betraying a hint of uncertainty. "Circumstances necessitate certain... adaptations in our roles. Let's just say that not all commands issued align with the justice they purport to uphold. Sometimes, to serve the greater good of Korvosa, one must make decisions that transcend direct orders. My presence here... It is... not in defiance," she adds, each word measured, as if she's treading on thin ice. "Instead, it is in pursuit of a higher duty to the city and its people."
"Rest assured, my actions here are driven by necessity, not by the usual edicts of the Maidens," she concludes, the finality in her voice indicating the weight of her words and the complexity of her position.
On the floor, still with her eyes closed, the young woman says "The grays let the crows torture people to make the sick." Mags voice is cracked in more ways than one.
Her brow furrows something going on in her head, even though she is 'healed' and still attempting.
"It wasn't your fault, Mags. That was very powerful magic. Don't be mad at yourself." With a final pat on the girl's shoulder, Yaziyah rises to her feet, turning to regard the Gray Maiden.
"Might we know those two reasons?" she asks, her expression clearly conveying her skepticism.
Mag sighs heavily, finally opening her eyes. They dart to the knocked over chair, then to the creaky floor boards, all still talking, whispering to her.
Whispers she had always trusted. ALWAYS.
Cat rises, but Mags holds at her hand, palm first, clearing saying STAY AWAY. Cat sits back down.
Mags pulls herself up, to stand behind Yazi. Looking so different than she did before this battle. Lesser.
But she couldn't let her friends face another danger without her. Somehow her dagger, bloodied only on herself. She holds it, ready, in case.
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The Gray Maiden meets Yaziyah's skeptical gaze with a composed demeanor. "Certainly, healer." she begins, her voice steady. "The first reason I mentioned earlier."
The Gray Maiden halts momentarily, her stance altering subtly within the confines of her armor. There's a slight shift in her posture and a gentle turn of her head, suggesting an internal dialogue or deep thought on the subject.
"As for the second reason," she eventually resumes, her voice steadying as she addresses the group, "it stems from a trusted source, someone we both know and have shared confidences with in the past. This individual has a profound grasp of the complexities we both face. Their insights and guidance have been invaluable time and again."
She pauses, as if weighing her next words, "In this particular situation, their perspective has not only been enlightening but also aligns seamlessly with our shared goals here. It's this counsel that has shaped my actions and brought me to stand with you today."
She takes a deep, almost labored breath within her helm. The sound is muffled, yet unmistakably that of relief or exertion, as if articulating these thoughts had been a significant effort for her.
Mags shakes her head, just a young girl at the moment, nothing of the city she loves in her. Cobwebs and wind, disturbed by the motion, but still she manages "I don't understand." she waits for her friend to ask, but then does it herself "Who?"
The Gray Maiden, maintaining her stoic posture, regards Magda silently for a moment. Her voice carries a solemn weight when she speaks, tinged with an undercurrent of caution.
"I am not at liberty to divulge their identity," she replies, her tone measured and deliberate. "But know that this person has Korvosa's best interests. Someone who, like us, seeks to navigate these treacherous times with wisdom and courage."
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"wisdom and courage" Mags says, clearly bothered by those words at the moment. Her troubled eyes look around, at the mounds of bodies. "He bought children... did you know that? what did he do with them?" The last question is for Who? No idea, she doesn't wait for whatever Who is to answer.
Her eyes shoot back to the Gray.
Angry.
"People said he was protecting the streets. This... Man." she waves the air with her hand at the headless corpse. "If people could think that of This, how can we be good with nothing?" she doesn't shout, but rage simmers, so so so many reasons why, needing somewhere to GO.
She repeats "Who?"
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The Gray Maiden's posture, previously rigid and disciplined, softens ever so slightly as she faces Magda's intense scrutiny and questions. There's a pause, long enough to suggest an internal struggle, before she responds with a voice that carries a hint of vulnerability beneath the armored exterior.
"The evils that Pilts Swastel inflicted upon this city, the manipulation and horror he spread, are beyond reprehensible. They're a grim reminder of the darkness that can take hold in troubled times. You have my word that these ... travesties are the wrongs I am sworn to protect Korvosa against." she says, her voice steady but tinged with emotion.
Her next words come with a noticeable shift in her tone, suggesting a breaking of resolve. "You. You seek a name, someone to trust in this chaos. I understand that need... the need for a beacon in the darkness. The truth is, the guidance I follow, the counsel that leads me here, it's not from a stranger. It's from someone who knows this city's heart, as you do. It's from..."
Another pause, this one longer as if she's fighting against revealing this name to you. She lifts her head to stare at Magda for a moment, her eyes from within peering down at the battered and scarred half-orc.
Though you can't see, her eyes are closed and she speaks in a softer voice "Her name is Sable Company Marine Kaliyah Tatarescu."
There's a weight to her admission, a significance that seems to hang between them. Afterward, she clears her throat and straigtens her posture before resuming her previous regimented tone "Kaliyah's insights, her understanding of Korvosa's plight, have guided me in these dark times. Her commitment to this city to its people is unwavering. She stands as a testament to the resilience and spirit of Korvosa, even in the face of overwhelming adversity. She has made sacrifices that are not mine to detail but drive me forward in to fulfill my duty."
"Kaliyah has asked me to find you and help you. That is why I stand here tonight."
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The shaken woman stops breathing, and her heart stops, just from a name. "Kali?" a wondering loss in her voice.
One of their broken messes that ran through Lamm's den to end the bastard. So crushed by grief and guilt she should have crumbled into a pile, never to move again...
But she didn't. Magpie admired that so much.
The half orc leans in toward the Gray, her eyes peering into the steel face. A tilt of her head, thinking.
A minute, then two, finally "That sounds like her." A smile, warm and deep cracks around her small tusks. A soft acceptance over the anger. "Yes, the Pigeon lady." she tells someone no one else can hear. Answering by instinct, then smiling again, even brighter.
Something shifted right in her head again. The name or the question or both?
Cat is around her ankle, rubbing for all he is worth, which he NEVER does. Which gets a scratch.
Listening to the rest, after the fact, Mags nods "Tonight." meaning who knows where they will be tomorrow. Tonight though they be here.
Vera listens for quite some time, confused about this Gray Maiden who seemed dedicated to someone or something greater than herself. Who could it be? Vencarlo Orsini? Cressida Kroft? A god or goddess?
It comes as a complete shock as she hears the name--Kaliyah Tartescu. She glances at Mags and Marcus, her surprise replaced with a grin. "Now that's a name we haven't heard in a while!" She turns back to the Gray Maiden. "Sable Company serves the Queen now, I suppose? You can trust us to keep that name a secret, and protect her from harm. I wish she'd have tried to find us herself, though. She's been very hard to find."
Vera realizes that she's recently improved her ability to see places and people by magical means. "Do you think she would like it if we found her?"
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The reactions of the others to the name spoke of old bonds, and Yaziyah feels like an intruder. Once it is clear that the person involved is someone they knew - and presumably trusted - the Shoanti slips into the corridor again to check on Laori, Salvator and Olenna.
She finds them next to the artist's latest masterpiece, and she nods approvingly. "Well done, Salvator. Pilts is dead. I would say you have nothing more to fear, but we live in very dangerous times. Still, we will do our utmost not to let you come to harm."
She turns to Olenna, giving her an update on the situation. "It turns out that Gray Maiden has been sent by someone they know, so for now she is an ally." She glances at the door to the other room. "I'll watch your back if you want to search this place."
Finally, she looks at the elven woman. "Laori, thank you. Your methods are certainly unusual, but no-one can doubt their effectiveness. And I have seen your kindness, where others would have expected cruelty. Is your mission complete? Will you join us, or go your own way?"
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The artist and the priest are sitting on his makeshift bed, facing each other and speaking quietly when Yazi enters. Olenna seems to be giving them some space, respectfully, and noticeably relaxes when Yazi indicates the fighting has stopped. The goons that made up Pilts’ mob lie dead, or have fled away, and Jabbyr remains unconscious.
The ragged-looking artist looks up and nods solemnly when Yazi enters, his long face and droopy eyes giving the impression of a tired hound. ”Thank you Miss. Before I do anything, though, I’ll have to explain what I know about the Seneschal and Vrncarlo,” his eyes glisten a little, ”I… I thought I was helping him, helping both of them. Vencarlo has been my friend for…” he trails off, and Laori, who is sitting near him, reaches out a hand and squeezes his shoulder. ”You were in a difficult place - you tried your best. I’m sure he’s safe still.” Salvator shudders at her touch, briefly and then relaxes, calming himself down, and he nods again. He sniffles, ”I should wait until the others are ready.”
Laori pats him gently, withdrawing her hand, and Yazi sees a red line where her hand had been on Salvator’s shoulder.
After watching Salvator carefully for a second, she turns her head to Yazi, ”yes. I mean. Yes! I will go my own way, and I intend to get Salvator out of the city.
”Anyway, this Seneschal sounds important and I’d wager bees to buttons that some of these agents of the Queen or whomever want him - alive and then dead, once they have what they need.” She turns back to Salvator and grins at him, ”we talked about it - and once we get some things from his home, he wants to go with me.” The artist nods weakly, and Laori rummages around in her bag and retrieves some water, handing it to him. Laori adds ”Pilts almost killed him - it’s a shame he’s dead,” she muses, almost as an afterthought.
”And I’m not from here - but those Gray Maidens, they probably want Salvator, right? Can you trust that one out there? If she comes after us… well… I would have to test how resilient a Gray Maiden is! I’ve heard some interesting stories.” It’s not much of a threat, because there’s no menace behind it, but there is a measure of certainty.
The Shoanti looks sharply at the painter. "Is that what you want, to leave the city?" She hesitates, wondering how much to tell him. "If Vencarlo is still alive, we will find him and keep him safe." She gives the painter a scrutinizing once-over, looking for injuries or ailments.
Yaziyah then turns her attention to Laori. "How will you get him out of the city? I think this Gray Maiden can be persuaded not to follow you, or interfere with you. If she is not, she will have to go through me first. I have no qualms fighting her; the others know this Kaliyah who sent her, but I do not. There is no attachment or debt on my part."
He nods, ”yes! Yes. I trust Laori. She said she would help with my nightmares.” Laori nods, and adds, ”if it turns out he can’t deal with his hurt one way, there’s other ways. He’s been touched by my patron, but I want to help him from getting overwhelmed.” She adds, with a knowing look to Yazi, ”you know. Like the others, that I couldn’t help.” For a fleeting moment, her cheery disposition falters and Laori Vaus looks sad and angry, obviously with herself, but she brightens up - and it is as if a shadow passes from her face.
With a knowing wink, she adds ”I have my ways. That is … we can travel the shadow roads - I can get him over to Magnimar or Kaer Maga, or anywhere really. I expect he wants to go home when it’s safer, so not too far.” Salvator nods solemnly.
"Very well. Here, you will need all your strength for the journey." Yaziyah calls upon the spirits to bless this tortured soul. "I hope that you find some measure of peace, Salvator."
She then waits for the others to reconvene, that they may all hear what the artist has to say about Vencarlo and the seneschal.
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Marcus says nothing as Pilts is executed, and keeps an watchful eye out on the monster and other entrances as healing is done. However when Laori heals Magda, Marcus's brows go up. Before he can process too much, however, Yazi calls him over. He obliges.
When she indicates the scars and talks of her own healing Marcus listens intently, but does not respond. He turns his head and also listens to the Gray Maiden's words on the matter. He weighs them for a moment, then silently turns back to Yazi and nods to her, indicating to finish her spell. His body is tense as the magic unfolds.
The magic glows across his open wounds. Marcus does not watch the magic. He watches Yazi's face, diamond-eyes boring into her skull. As the skin stitches together...faint scars are left, as if she had only accelerated the natural healing process. As Yazi begins reacting, but before she can say anything, Marcus gives a tiny shake of his head. "Later." Is all he says.
As the others confront the Maiden, Marcus puts a hand on Magda's shoulder and lowers his voice. "Your mind is normally too strong for such effects so you're not used to hostile magic affecting you. It was temporary, and is now over. Breath easy. Have some water."
As Magda's confusion and fury come down on the Maiden, Marcus stands quietly. He didn't even bother to loom, he knew an idle threat would make little difference to the Maiden. But the name surprised him.
Honestly I expected to find her crumpled in an alley at some point.
His frown softens. She was still forged of steel it seemed.
Marcus listens to the most recent conversation, and does offer some verbal insight in response to Laori asking about trusting the Gray Maiden. "No, I don't. This was an alliance of convenience, that's all we really know. Cover your tracks." He advises.
He sucks in some air through his teeth. There was a lot more he wanted to talk to Laori about. But it seemed he wouldn't have the opportunity. But still, a question came into his head. "What is pain without a lesson?" He blinked twice. He wasn't even sure what that meant, or even if it was meant as a question, a riddle, or a code phrase. Still, he stared at Laori, seeming to anticipate some kind of response.
The cheery priestess nods, ”pain is many things. A lesson. A reminder. A method of focus. A method of escape. Instinctual. Intentional. Pleasure.” She grins, her dark eyes like pools of obsidian, ”Just a bunch of signals for your brain.” She seems to realize something, ”I promise - I’m not trying to be vague, Marcus, please believe me.”
She adds ”Okay but good - let’s work with the idea that it is a lesson - I think that’s right, but how? Children who burn their hands, they remember to avoid stoves. A person who injures their foot, they know it needs to be treated - and not to put weight on it. Two people in love - if the people are mature, they will remember how not to be hurt again.” She giggles, and she puts her finger on her chin, ”I suppose that’s how everyone first learns any lessons - through pain. But my church tries to see more to it than just pain. There are deep mysteries, transcendence that can be experienced with a true understanding. Maybe that amounts to a lesson itself - about the fabric of reality, and our place in the universe and on the planes.” Unblinking, she stares at Marcus when she says this.
Her voice is compelling, and inviting. It feels to him that she is speaking only to him. The other sounds disappear to a quiet murmur as she talks. Though her cheery elvish voice remains - under the words there is power, not of magic, necessarily- but the power of a kind of truth.
It is true that some animal part of his mind is screaming to get away, to stay away from this, this abomination of a woman - that this woman is wrong. That pain is wrong and to flee as quickly as possible. But this is not all there is. It is not the only truth.
There is another truth at the edge of his comprehension, like something under the surface of water - and he would only need to press, slightly, and it would break that surface tension and he would see for himself. He also knows somehow that the choice would be his.
Laori is somehow offering him something, but he has to decide if he wants it.
She shakes her head slightly, ”but that’s just what I think! And if you want, I don’t have to leave immediately, I can stay for a little while if you need me.” She emphasizes the word “need”.
Laori continues, speaking to everyone, ”Salvator is safe, you all are safe, and nobody has to be afraid or angry now. We can all have tea , and be happy, and relax for a little while!” She claps her hands together, ”oh! That’s a good idea Laori, you silly bean! Does anyone want some tea?”
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Marcus listens intently, somewhat on shaky ground for someone as normally convicted as he is. Finally he looks down, still conflicted, but ultimately nods. "Yes, Salvator needs to recover before you can flee anyways. It's best we stay together, strength in numbers." It was a true assessment, by any metric, but was also a convenient excuse to accept Laori's...invitation.
She nods, and pats Salvator on the shoulder, who smiles thankfully, and she stands up, ”Tea, first, for everyone - and then we can talk.” She moves to find a kitchen area in the Emperor’s complex, humming to herself.
When Vera inquires about Kaliyah's current affiliations, the Gray Maiden offers a carefully worded response. "Kaliyah has been... elevated to a position of greater responsibility. One that demands much from her. It is a role of significant import, though not with the Sable Company."
The Gray Maiden listens intently to Vera. She nods slightly at Vera's offer to keep Kaliyah's name a secret. "Your discretion in this matter is appreciated. Kaliyah's safety and well-being are of paramount importance."
At the suggestion of using magic to locate Kaliyah, the Gray Maiden hesitates, her stillness suggesting an internal debate. "Kaliyah and I had discussed the possibility of her reuniting with you. She...," there's a brief pause, almost imperceptible, "was eager to meet you again, yet my concerns for her safety prevailed. She would have preferred to be here in person, but I dictated otherwise."
As Vera queries whether Kaliyah would appreciate being located magically, the Gray Maiden falls silent, her stillness more pronounced. This pause extends longer than before, hinting at a deeper contemplation. Eventually, she replies, "I believe... Kaliyah would welcome the opportunity to reconnect with you. Despite the complexities of her current situation, the bond she shares with you remains strong. She has mentioned you three often to me. Finding her could indeed be a step toward something positive for all involved. You need not use magic to do this however, she is also in Old Korvosa. I can easily arrange a meeting with her if you can swear to me loyalty to her remains true."
The Gray Maiden's voice lowers slightly, adding a layer of confidentiality to her words. "Between us, she expressed apprehension about how she might be received among her old companions. Honestly, she was overly distraught and making a bigger deal of it all if you ask me. She should not hold your opinions of herself so highly that affect her well-being. Though I have told her this very clearly, she insisted on getting all worked up." She sighs heavily, clearly frustrated just thinking about it again. "But please, I ask that you not mention this to her."
Magda was kneeling to scratch the alley cat around the ears, a thumb rubbing under one, while her fingers curl around the other. When the gray mentions Kali's distraught-ness, Mags looks up and ask "Why would she think that?" honest confused.
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Mags shook her head, before stepping forward and knocking her knuckles against the Gray's steel shoulder. Lowering her voice, cause the gray had, "Tell her I miss her. I learned to bake, so I'll make cookies if she comes by." she gives a quick toothy grin.
The broken girl from a few moments ago is gone, replaced by the visage all the others are used to (other than Vera who has seen the good, bad, and bed-headed). Her confidence in her own mental state had been shaken. Most who hear things like Marcus's steel skin, proud in every scrap and dent, fret over a bit of rust in the elbow joint, would think they were Crackers and Toast altogether.
But Mags has been touched by the city, the moment Cat wandered up to the sobbing newly christened orphan trying to follow the plague cart where her parents were piled. She had heard the sympathy, comfort, and mutual sorrow, resulting her in her heart and soul being lost to a simple cause.
Help everyone she can.
The f%!&ery of that rancid pile of steaming dung had nearly broken that confidence, but the moment of the name, Sable Company Marine Kaliyah Tatarescu, had brought her out of her own head enough that she slipped back in her trust, and was enveloped into its warm hug.
So, the gray got her acceptance, a knuckle of okay, and a grin.
Not much else one can ask for.
And then Mags turned and looked for the Yazi, who she gave a BIG ASS HUG. "thank you" she whispered with everything she had. Then gave a smaller smile to the cleric of that religion she cannot remember the name of but has a shiny pamphlet for in her satchel.
Mags didn't care about the scar, she had plenty. She cared about being alive and not abandoning the people she loves, and those that need her and her city.
"Help is help, but a turn back is just right, if possible?" Mags asks if there is a way to pay Laori back for her help. Asking in her own way. Cat will Meow, like nails on a chalkboard he does, agreeing with the asking.
Laori smiles, and then giggles lightly, ”oh, Magda - I don’t need anything. I spoke with Salvator, I helped him, and I made new friends!” She adds, ”well, his paintings. I’d like the ones that are obviously religious - they seem interesting, though I’m not really at liberty to say why. Nothing dangerous, if you’re worried.” She tries to be reassuring, ”some of these are very good representations of stories in my church, so I think my superiors would want them.” She finishes making her tea and gives it to Magda. She thinks a moment ”I guess, then- please may I have them?”
Magda takes the tea, says "I'm not worried" in a tone that says she has no idea why she should be, and then frowns in disappointment at not being able to help with the request "His art stuff is his art stuff, so only he can tell you if he'll give it to you." she sips, closes her eyes in appreciation of the swirling flavors. "If I could, I would. You like them, more than anyone else, and someone..." she can't remember who "... told me that the worth of a drawing is in the Want of the one most in love with it." she thinks it was one of the older kids, talking about stealing a painting once and having no idea if it was worth a copper penny or several silver (gold was out of the question back then).
Then adds "That's you, I think. So yes, as much as my yes is worth." a quirk of her mouth lifts into a sorry smile.