The Tarkanan chopper nodded, apparently happy to be left alive in the middle of the carnage. "I'm not stupid, I'm not trying anything." He put his hands behind his back without being asked and made no effort to resist being tied up.
Ash indicated his ability to watch the tied up thug and the group headed upstairs.
The first thing the trio noticed were the ritual symbols scratched into the floor around the circumference of the room. Someone had taken a considerable amount of time to first etch and then fill in with black and red wax a magical circle affecting the entire upstairs of the tower.
The second thing was that there were several corpses on the floor, evidence that Ash had not been forced out of the room without a tough fight.
Third, there was a blindfolded, naked man strapped to a table on the north side of the room in the middle of a 5-pointed star painted in what was either blood or red paint and anchored with black candles.
Last (and probably least), a set of oversized, blood stained tools had been bolted to the wall over the hearth in a mockery of the octogram of the Sovereign Host.
Idrassa paled at the site of the cultist's work area, then did a double take at the sight of the man chained to the table. Tweety had not mentioned the victim was still alive. Still, she had been rushed and things had been confused.
Leaving the others to examine their surroundings, she made her way over to the table where the victim was restrained. "It's alright," she reassured him. "The cultists are...gone." She eased the blindfold off his eyes and gave him a warm smile. "I'm Idrassa. What's your name? Are you alright?"
Declan frowned at the arcane runes, though they didn't make much sense to him. He wasn't that in tune with local evil rituals, after all.
"Might want to break this circle of runes, and the pentagram."
"Are you called Shan Chien," Zander asked, while at the same time looking around for convenient ways to follow Declan's advice, that didn't require stepping into the circle first.
He settled for blasting one of the candles with a glowing crystal projected from his hand.
Idrassa hurried over to the bound, naked man, walking directly over the ritual pentagram with no apparent effect. He started squirming when she touched the blindfold, nodding in agreement with Zander's question.
"Yes, that's me. Who are you? You don't look like the City Watch." He sat up and looked around, then down at his naked body. "Do you see any clothes anywhere?"
"I'll...have someone bring some up," Idrassa offered. There was a flicker of thought between herself and her Outsider counterpart. Below them, the serpent began pulling a relatively undamaged and unstained cloak off of one of the fallen. A challenge for a limbless creature amid chaos, but Tweety set about slipping a garment over a corpse's head with a remarkably delicate series of tugs with her teeth.
"So, you're a publisher?" The human asked. "How did you cross these cultists?"
He shakes his head, making an obvious effort to not look down at the ritual circle but not doing much to cover his nakedness. "I don't really know. I was looking into a story and they jumped me while I was going from one appointment to the next. I've never reported on a cult like this before. I will after this, though, believe you me. Hey, give me your address and you'll have a free subscription to the Targe for life. And when I'm in a better headspace we can do an interview. Everybody should know about heroes like you!"
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"I don't really know. I was looking into a story and they jumped me while I was going from one appointment to the next. I've never reported on a cult like this before. I will after this, though, believe you me. Hey, give me your address and you'll have a free subscription to the Targe for life. And when I'm in a better headspace we can do an interview. Everybody should know about heroes like you!"
"Ah," Idrassa offered, momentarily taken aback. She tried not to let her horror at the thought show. "It sounds like you've had a horrible experience. Do you know who they were at least?" She added. "I mean, the cultists, did they have an agenda beyond worship of the Mockery?"
"Perhaps," Zander spoke up, "he would be able to extrapolate more from the data included in the note Declan found on the lower floor?"
He turned his head to face the humanoid identified as Shan Chien.
"Are the names on this document familiar to you?"
Declan handed the note to the man for him to examine.
Shan Chien shook his head in response to Idrassa's question. "No, I don't know what they wanted with me. They snatched me and brought me here." He shook his head and put a hand to his temple as if trying to clear away mental cobwebs. "I don't know magic but I've been around enough manipulative pieces of s+%! to know they were trying to mess with my head. They didn't even question me first or torture me. I just woke up naked on this table with them doing that ritual."
He took the un-crumpled note and frowned. "No? I mean, yes, Manshoon, but everybody knows Manshoon." The publisher offered the note back to Declan and started arranging the cloak Idrassa provided around himself to cover his naked body.
"Manshoon. You know. The Dreambreaker. One of Halas Tarkanan's two lieutenants along with the Lady of the Plague. One of the three aberrant instigators of the War of the Mark?" Shan Chien looked back and forth among the Trollskullers, looking to see if any of them showed signs of knowing what he was talking about. "But he's dead. Long dead. That was 400 years ago."
"I could look into it for you if you want. You saved my life, I owe you guys. Just tell me where to find you and I'll get you a whole report on Manshoon. And we can do that interview!"
Tweety maneuvered delicately along the wall, avoiding both the sprays of blood and the verdant slime that now decorated the tower environs as he patiently bore the newly liberated cloak to the upstairs. Idrassa took a few steps down the stairway to procure the cloak so that Tweety could not be seen, and nodded gratefully to the ophidian. She passed the garment on to the publisher.
At the mention of Tarkanan, Idrassa tensed, and a hand slipped involuntarily to the scarf at her neck. But her expression was neutral and her voice was calm, if serious.
"So these are Tarkanans?" She noted. The human found herself wanting to move the subject away from their identity, or interviews, and latched onto another line of the note. "Brindul Alley is over in the Trades Ward. Not a pleasant place, but more about casual knifings than...this," she gestured expansively.
Declan shook his head. The place didn't ring a bell, but he was still relatively new to the city. He'd trust the others. The name Tarkanan, though. "Curious," he said aloud, while pondering what these random cultists might have in common with their most recent investigation. He wouldn't say any more in the presence of a publisher.
Shan Chien frowned, giving Idrassa a frustrated look as he responded. "What do you mean? Because somebody's calling themselves Manshoon?" He shrugged. "I guess. I mean, who else would be using that name but aberrants, right?"
He looked over at Declan and Zander. "Did you want me to follow up on that Tarkanan history? I can come over with some research. I know they're fighting with Daask right now, do you think this has anything to do with that?" The publisher was getting more animated as the possibility of a story unfolded in front of him.
Idrassa hesitated. The man might find something worthwhile, and she had reason to want to know more. But putting their name out...
She looked to the others, trying to judge their opinions.
Declan offered Idrassa a nod in acceptance of the unasked question. He had indeed been considering similar things.
"Yes, I think it would be helpful if you could share that history," Idrassa offered, trying to sound casual. "Honestly, we're not sure what's going on. We're tavern keepers. I'm Idrassa, and these are Declan and Zander," she added, gesturing to her companions as she spoke. "One of the, er, agents, I guess, of this cult started following some of our people. We're not even sure why, and when we went to investigate things just sort of...spiraled out of control." She added nervously. The human shook her head. "It's all so strange. Anyway, the Trollskull Tavern is in North Ward, off Saerdoun Street. There's a drink on the house for you there, if that helps," she added with a slight smile.
Shan Chien shook his head vigorously. "No, no, you rescued me! I insist on paying for anything at your establishment! And you're on my free subscriber list! The Targe is Waterdeep's best source for news that the mainstream papers don't want to report. What a headline, "Local Entrepreneurs Foil Witch Coven"!", he shook his head. "I'll work on it." The broadsheet publisher grinned at the group.
"Do you mind if I take a day or two? That will give me time to get that research done. And we can do that interview!" He hopped down off the table and looked around at the corpses.
"There wasn't any spare clothing downstairs, was there? I don't want to strip one of these cultists' bodies but I need to wear something to get home." Unfortunately, there hadn't been any spare clothes the party had seen.
"Er, no," Idrassa said. "But maybe I can help."
She winced inwardly, but reached into her pouch and pulled out her scholar's robe. It was designed to be bulky and was a bit large on her, so she guessed it would at least preserve modesty for the ex-captive. But the removal of the robe from the pouch made it clear that it was larger inside than out, something a tavern girl would be unlikely to possess.
"Try this," she offered, handing the garment over. "You can bring it back when you drop by."
Shan Chien nodded appreciatively at the robe. "Thank you! Host, you people have been incredible! I might run a whole series on you, maybe we could sit down and get individual interviews and do solo articles on your background and heroics. Er... did I ask your names yet? I'm sorry, my brain is all foggy."
Shan Chien eventually made his way downstairs and out of the tower, promising to come to Trollskull Manor within a few days. The group was left alone in the tower .
Declan, who had been quiet during the freeing of Mr. Chien, raised an eyebrow at the key. "We should probably make sure there aren't any weirdos left," he offered, looking down the stairway.
He didn't really want the publisher poking into his past. That might garner some... pointed questions. And it might come back on Sky. He'd have to concoct a believable background before the guy showed up at the Trollskull.
For now, though, this coven had to be cleared.
Going downstairs, the tavern owners found a cellar. A small, circular wooden table was surrounded by four makeshift stools made from empty barrels. A deck of playing cards was scattered atop the table, with a few stray cards lying on the floor.
A pair of cots were arranged in one corner, along with a stack of three crates of surplus Last War-vintage military field rations, a few similarly aged surplus duffel bags with clothes and personal items, and two barrels of water. On top of the stack of rations was a wand with a note attached that read "Password: Sibus-Four-Four. Open pack, recite password, tap rations and say desired flavor out loud. If this wand gets lost it comes out of your pay."
On the the north wall was a sturdy oak door with iron fittings and an excellent lock. The door and lock both looked like they were of a more modern vintage than the tower around it.
"Cozy," deadpanned Idrassa, eyeing the oppressive surroundings. She lifted the wand. "This is nice, at least." She let the others see she had it before slipping it into her pouch.
She eyed the door, and looked at the others expectantly. "Shall we?" she asked.
Declan nodded and unlocked the door with the key they had found. He stood a bit to the side, in case anyone with a crossbow were waiting beyond.
The group might not have known what to expect on the other side of the locked door but it probably wasn't another arcane circle inscribed on the floor- this one more permanent than the painted one upstairs, the shining metal runes inset into precisely carved grooves in the stone.
Gates are typically activated using a key, which can be a physical token but might also be a password, piece of music, spell, or stellar conjunction. Some gates have multiple keys, each linked to another specific elf gate.
Only the first traveler in a group needs a key; the rest can follow to the same destination. Travel through a teleport gate is instantaneous, and because of this they are quite rare. House Orien is reputed to have them in their enclaves but the cost to use them is prohibitively expensive to most non-members. Otherwise only a very powerful wizard (far more powerful than the casters encountered upstairs) could craft such a circle.
A gate can lead to another gate or to a hub that connects several possible locations. These gate do not allow travel between planets or planes, unlike the incredibly ancient or naturally occurring portals that they resemble.
Declan's breath caught with surprise as he took in the circle. "A Teleportation Circle? Why in Siberys is there one of those here of all places?" He turned to the others, "No way are those lackeys using this. This is the domain of a powerful wizard, which means someone is likely directing this coven."
He looked around for a way to disable the circle. Either some way to mar the runes, or something to fill the room.
"I...think it's time to bring the Watch in," observed Idrassa, eyeing the circle nervously. "This is much bigger than we are."
Zander turned his head towards Idrassa with the slight head tilt that she (and the rest of the group) had come to recognize as his, "I understood the words, but not the meaning of the statement" look.
"If you are referring to the size of the circle on the floor, or of the building itself, that statement would seem to be a redundant verbalization of a self-evident truth, however, I do not understand how the relative size of either the circle or the building to our own would require the calling of the Watch. Which seems to indicate that I am misapprehending your meaning. Would you please elaborate and/or clarify?"
Declan frowned at the teleportation room, "The size of the circle is not the concern, Zander, it is the power that is required to create one. Whomever performed the ritual is a rather powerful wizard, and beyond our edict. The Watch should be called, and we can hand over our friend upstairs."
Zander nodded.
"Was not also the Mind Flayer we encountered in the sewers, significantly dangerous? It seems that we may have a pattern of behavior that involves confronting powerful beings. Which does not make doing so a tactically wise decision, if it is avoidable."
"Uh, mind flayer?" asked Idrassa. Then she shook her head. "Never mind. Maybe we should ask our prisoner a few questions first and then find the Watch."
Declan nodded to Idrassa. "That seems a wise course of action."
The group returned to the first floor, where the chopper was still sitting docilely on the floor in his bindings. Whatever else was happening here, he certainly didn't seem worried about going to jail. But maybe it was just that jail was better than what had happened to his companions.
Ash dragged himself up the stairs behind them. He'd be damned if he didn't at least see that the man he'd nearly gotten killed for was all right - or, possibly, another cultist.
He bared his teeth, stained with his own blood, at the chopper.
"I'd hate to have to remind you what they say about vengeance and shifters," he growled, stalking closer.
That was because he didn't agree with what They said, but there was no reason to bring that up.
Blood - NOT his own - dripped from his hands, red to the elbow, his long shifter claws flexing.
"Calm down," Idrassa insisted nervously, clearly concerned by Ash's aggression. "No need for...that kind of thing again." Then inspiration seemed to strike her. "The tower's a little isolated, but somebody might overhear the screaming. So let's give him a chance, alright? No need for anything messy right away." She threw the captive a nervous and imploring look.
The chopper backed away from Ash, hunching his shoulders like he would raise his arms if they weren't bound. "Hey hey hey, no need for any of that, I swear! I already surrendered!" He looks frantically at Idrassa. "Yeah yeah, whatever you need. What do you want?"
"See?" Asked Idrassa of Ash. "He's helpful." She turned to the captive. "So who are you, and what's this place about? And why were they killing a publisher?"
The man shook his head. "Oh, uh, no, sorry. I mean. Egen. Gastor. That's my name." He looked nervously at Ash. "But I don't have any idea what they were doing up there. I just got told to come here, do what Seccent told me. Me an' Adrek," Egen gestured at the dead cutter "been camping out down in the basement for a couple weeks. They never let us go upstairs."
Seeing that this was insufficient, Egen gabbled on. "Um... that guy got brought in last night- you said he's a publisher? I don't know who he is- and they've had him up there the whole time. He's not the first one. He's the second one since I've been here. And they were set up before I got here; me an' Adrek replaced a couple other guys who'd been here a while."
"Look, this is just a job, yeah? Gotta pay the rent somehow." He gestured upstairs. "I'm just security. They never let us upstairs." Egen looked anxiously at Ash again to see if his explanation had been sufficient. "Sleeping in a cot in a basement's better than waiting to get knifed in an alley by some bugbear, right?"
Declan crossed his arms. "You'll tell all that to the Watch, yes? I am certain they will be very interested in what went on here."
"Khyber below, I'll tell whoever you want whatever you want. This was all self-defense for you lot, far as I'm concerned, yeah? I been in jail before, it ain't that bad." He nodded at the door, indicating the city beyond. "I ain't heard of any Daasks shanking us inside, either, so it might even be safer in there."
"So things aren't going well for the Tarkanans, then?" asked Idrassa with calculated casualness. "What the fight about, anyway?"
Egen snorted and shrugged. "We're givin' as good as we get but there's way more of them than us. I really don't like having to worry about getting swarmed by goblins on my way home from the bar." He shook his head. "I think somebody stole something from someone? That's what I heard. All I really know is that the animals are angry and taking it out on everybody. And then we can't let their attacks go unanswered, right? We'd look weak. Then they have to answer, then us... you get it. I don't need to know why, I just need to know who."
"Eliminate their leadership," Zander said, and it was almost a throwaway statement. A simple tactical and strategic truth.
"Continual strike-counterstrike engagements that serve no purpose beyond maintaining a postural fiction result in nothing but wasted resources over time. If there are more of the enemy than your own forces, you are simply engaging in a war of attrition that you are destined to lose as they have the resources to outspend you. Inefficient, costly for both antagonists, but a nearly-guaranteed victory for the antagonist with the most resources to spend - provided they also posses the will to spend the resources. Without a significant morale-changing or strategically altering event from your forces - such as removing the enemy leadership - you would be far better off to renounce your membership in the Tarkanan organization and seeking safety away from the conflict."
Rote. Factual. Like the answer to a test question.