Still looking behind her to make sure they weren't followed, Ril scans the area. Turning to Torsten, she asks, "Think we'll be able to get some answers out of this guy, without the house burning down?"
”Mayhaps.” Torsten said. He approached the door as well, listening intently…
As you approach, Torsten senses a presence inside near the back door. When Ril knocks, he sees it move to the front door and open it - revealing an elven woman wearing bone-covered spiked armor . Based on this and the spiked chain wrapped around her waist, she's clearly a devotee of Zon Kuthon.
Seeing you, she cheerfully greets you. "Oh, hey! I'm Laori. Are you looking for Salvator too?"
"Yeeeeeeees," Ril replies, extremely unsure what they've walked into this time. "I'm Yhrrilka, and this is Torsten," she says, with a raised eyebrow. "What's your interest in him? Just, this isn't gonna turn into something where we fight, and the house burns down, is it? It's been that sort of day so far."
Torsten almost said Nobody has to get hurt but given her religion it didn’t seem like it would have the desired effect. His gut told him to kill her now, for she worshipped a truly evil god, but Ril was right in getting information first. He nodded at Ril’s words, while keeping a close eye on the cultist.
"I certainly hope not!" the elf exclaims. "I just want to ask Salvator where his inspiration comes from. He's a talented artist, and he uses a lot of themes important to Kuthite faith." She narrows her eyes in mock menace. "You're not art snobs, right? Because then we would have to fight."
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At first, the elf's question strikes Yhrrilka as ridiculous. "Do we look like art snobs?" But from her facial expression, it's clear Ril is considering the question even as she asks it, at which point she turns to Torsten and asks him, "Wait, do we look like art snobs?"
She quickly frowns, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "No, wait, it - We're not here about Salvatore's art, okay? He seems to have known an acquaintance of ours, and we're trying to track him down."
At this, Yhrrilka edges herself around the elven woman so she can start examining the interior of Salvatore's home, muttering to herself as she does. "This is unbelievable. Find this one, to find that one, to find the one we really want in the first place, all the while hoping that no one in this stupid little chain has been done in by plague, or looters, or vampires, or Mother knows what. It was stupid to come here, some days I wonder if I shouldn't have just tattooed the word 'sucker' on my forehead…"
Torsten looked back and forth between Ril and the elf. Once his friend had wandered in, muttering to herself, he said ”Artists. We be tattoo artists. Is Salvatore in, and how do ye know him?”
"Tattoo artists? That's great! Do you do piercings too? I've been thinking about getting some shadow piercings." Laori pauses for a second. "Oh, right, that's not important right now. No, I don't know Salvatore - just his work. He wasn't home when I got here, so I let myself in. Maybe we can find him together!"
As Ril enters, she smells must and mildew, much of it coming from the mud tracked over the floorboards, as if a small army had marched through the room. To the south stands a single empty set of shelves.
Across the hall to the east, you see a small bedroom containing a single bed. The blankets and pillows atop it are scattered and in disarray, and more muddy boot prints mar the wooden floor. A splash of dried blood decorates one pillow.
”So…Uhm…are all followers of Zon, eh, Kuthon? Are they all this, how do ye say it…perky?” Torsten asked. He didn’t sense anyone else nearby, but he walked through the place so that he could listen and feel for anyone being hidden.
As she looks around Salvatore's home, Yhrrilka is mostly listening to Laori, and replies, "No piercings. Tattoos, and I also tell fortunes. Later we can talk about shad-" She cuts herself off, holding up the pillow. "Well that's hardly a good sign."
She turns and addresses the other woman. "Your offer is an interesting one. Can you pardon us a moment?" She ushers Torsten over to the corner. "Whad'ya think?"
Torsten shrugged. ”She could be the murderer. Might not be. Regardless it’s best to keep her around until we find out, she?”
Ril shrugs and nods at Torsten. "Yeah, I mean what she said sounded weird as all hell, but that doesn't make it a lie?" She thought back to the number of times Chief Mahja had to work with orcs from other tribes who were certainly no angels. "What's the worst that can happen? No, don't answer that."
She turns back to Laori. "Okay, we can try this. But if we find you've been lying to us, or that yer lookin' to do us wrong, the deal's off, big time, got me?" With that, Ril sets to exploring the rest of the house .
Laori laughs uproariously at Torsten's question. "Perky? Hah! Gods, no! Everyone's all dour. 'Be serious, Laori.' 'Meditate on suffering.' It's like they've forgotten that pain is pleasure. Why else would we aspire toward the Joymaking?" She gives Ril a wink. "Stick-in-the-muds, you know? Too focused on 'tradition' and whatnot."
When you agree to her offer, Laori beams. "Do you wrong? You're so paranoid! Would it help if we made a blood oath?" Without waiting for an answer, she slices her palm with her spiked chain and extends it for a handshake.
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To the south is a room that appears to have once been a combination kitchen and storeroom. It's now a bewildering riot of brightly colored fungus and mold that grows everywhere. It's thickest in the southwest where puffy sheets of yellow fungus cover several objects so completely it's impossible to make out what lies beneath.
The other room has air that seems strangely fresh and scented, no doubt because of the six large candles that burn within. Each has been affixed by a glob of melted wax to the crown of a gleaming, polished skull, and each of these impromptu and grisly candle-holders has been placed atop an otherwise clear desk to the west, arrayed in a gentle arc. A chair sits before the desk, and a careful stack of papers and scrolls sits inside the arc of skulls. To the south stands a nearly empty cabinet, its shelves barren save for a few paintbrushes and a cracked pottery urn.
Torsten (against his better judgement) talked to the crazed elf. ”Joymaking? What is that? And how can pain be pleasure? Isn’t that like spicy sweet?” He didn’t reciprocate with slicing his hand open, rather he just stared at the wound in confusion.
"Joymaking? What is that? And how can pain be pleasure? Isn’t that like spicy sweet?"
As she's reaching for her kerambit, Ril jumps back in, asking, "Isn't that a thing, though? Spicy sweet?" The young woman has seen enough blood oaths in her time in Belkzen to know what happens here. She makes a small cut across her right palm, and saying, "May neither double-cross or do treachery to the other one," reaches out and shakes Laori's hand.
As they search the place, Yhrrilka tells their new acquaintance, "I grew up in Belkzen, and pain certainly isn't viewed as pleasure, but it's something to be endured, after which you can look back and count it as a victory. There is a saying back home, 'You are the scars that shape you,'" she says as she's looking through the paperwork on Salvatore's desk. "Course, some of the bigger mudak of the other tribes, they find their pleasure in giving others pain."
When she's finished, she asks the other two, "Either of you find anything useful?"
"Oh, you know," the elf responds to Torsten. "It's one of our major ceremonies. The most devout followers get to have their extremities removed so they can focus entirely on pain forever. It's the ultimate act of worship."
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"Spicy sweet is such a fantastic combination! Habanero peppers are my favorite."
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Laori nods at Yhrrilka's words. "Sounds like you're most of the way there already! Our saying is 'Pain breeds strength of spirit. It proves that you're alive and is where you find true knowledge of self.'"
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Laori holds up a fragment of cloth. "I found this in the bedroom a few minutes before you arrived. I asked my skulls about it, but the response was too garbled to understand."
Part of the Korvosan coat of arms in on the cloth fragment. Based on the design, it belongs to a high-ranking government official. The missing seneschal was here!
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Based on the blood and footprints you found, it's obvious that Salvator's been forcibly abducted by a group of people. And from what you've heard and seen about the state of Old Korvosa, it's very likely that the so-called Emperor either had a hand in it or knows who does.
Yhrrilka bristles at Laori's comment. "I'm not 'on my way' anywhere like that, thanks. Just think of it as something where we see a little bit eye to eye."
When the other woman talks about "her skulls," though, this perks Ril's interest back up. "Okay, those are yours, and not Sal's? So then they're some manner of divining tool? Interesting."
"So the signs seem to point toward both Salvatore, and one of the other guys we're looking for," Yhrrilka nods toward Torsten, "Being held by that dopey so-called 'Emperor.' I think our next step is to find him, and ask very nicely for their release."
Ril turns back to Laori. "How're you at 'asking nicely'," she asks with a raised eyebrow.
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Torsten looked at the elf with revulsion clearly written on his face. He had never heard of anything as downright terrifying as the Joymaking. To take off one's own extremities? To be left weak and helpless? He couldn't think of anything that had ever filled him with such dread before. The thought occurred to him, that if something like that happened to him, given his tattoos which extended his life and protected him from disease...he turned away from her, unwilling to even look at the elf. He had the urge to turn around and to rip her to pieces with his bare hands. Her God was certainly evil, but she hadn't done anything to warrant being attacked herself. If anything, she was the one who was being the most diplomatic here.
"Aye. We should go talk to the Emperor then." He said to Ril. While he had a bad feeling about how it would turn out, it was the best option that they had.
"I'm very nice!" Laori laughs. "Isn't it obvious?"
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As you head deeper into Old Dock looking for the Emperor's lair, you're eventually accosted by more of his thugs - eight of them this time. Their bravado is slightly lessened, though, as they're careful to stay well out of reach. Word travels fast, it seems.
"Oi, you three! Lars told us you was rude to him and his buddies. We're the Emperor's men, didn't ya know that? Messed with the wrong people, you did!"
Yhrrilka mutters to her companions, "Great, more of these clowns."
"Lars, hmm. Yea-high, boot print on his chest, shocked facial expression, that Lars? And yes, of course we know that, you all seem to have only one volume, annoyingly loud. I suspect they've heard you braying about that down in Taldor by now."
"As it turns out, my friends and I are ready to talk with your Emperor. Send one of yours ahead and announce us now, won't you? The rest of you, stay in front, there's a good bunch of fellows."
"Think it through, boyos." Torsten said, arms crossed. [b]"Can't get in trouble for saying that we are here for an audience. But I guarantee that if any of ye manage to draw blood, then ye won't be walking away from this dance. I can't imagine that risking shattered bones be in any of your interests."[/b
The emperor's thugs don't seem too bright, but even they're not dumb enough to mess with you after the lesson you taught their buddies earlier. Three-to-one odds isn't enough for them to take that risk, apparently - especially since you're planning to go with them anyway. You're escorted to the emperor's palace: a collection of tenements and abandoned stores on Silk Street that barely escaped destruction during a recent fire. Despite a large amount of cosmetic damage (mostly graffiti), they seem relatively stable.
You're led into a gutted home, across a rope bridge, into the attic of a second home, across another rope bridge, and onto an open-air balcony shielded from rain and sun by a brightly-colored canvas roof. The inside of the canvas has been decorated with scenes of gruesome debauchery; battlefields, executions, torture chambers, and human-eating monsters all vie for space. The balcony contains two major features of note. The first is a high-backed throne that looks like a poor man's version of the Crimson Throne, a thing of blood-red cushions and silks and spikes. Directly west of the throne stands a tall guillotine of carved wood and bone, its base depicting grasping demonic feet and the housing of its glittering blade a leering demonic face.
Sitting on the throne is a skinny man wearing threadbare robes that appear to be old theater costumes. He's attended by several more thugs and a one-eyed gnome wearing an executioner's outfit. As you enter, the 'emperor' gestures grandly in your direction and greets you in a - surprisingly - almost regal voice. "Greetings, newcomers. I see that you have finally deigned to grace our court with your presence. I thank thee - minions - for escorting them here safely." The thugs attempt sloppy bows. "What is thy purpose for entering our domain? Is it to pay tribute?"
Keeping a straight face, Torsten bowed as if though he was in a king’s court. ”We come to ask for your indulgence, and for your wisdom.” Looking the ‘emperor’ in the eyes, he continued ”We are looking for a famed artist, one Salvatore. He resides within your, eh…domain. He be missing. As one of your citizens, who else to turn to regarding his whereabouts than the lord of this territory?”
The 'emperor' gestures grandly. "Ah, yes. I have not made it public knowledge as of yet, but Master Salvatore is my houseguest. He is to paint a new masterpiece worthy of an emperor."
"Wonderful!" Torsten said. "Ye have taste that matches your position. Would it be within reason for us to speak with him? We have come far to talk to him, and will nay take long."
As they had walked into the room for their audience with the so-called Emperor, Yhrrilka changed her outfit to a pair of black slacks, a matching jacket, and a white shirt.
Her opinion of this man had started low, and nothing she'd seen had really done anything to improve that. Queen Ileosa was doing her best to put Old Korvosa in a stranglehold for reasons unknown, and all this jerk could think to do was nflict more petty tyranny on top of everything else? Ril was grateful for Torsten's tactful approach, as she had been ready to just start throwing bolts of fire around the room.
When the Emperor confirms Salvatore is his prisoner, she just gives the slightest raised eyebrow, and waits to see how the old man reacts to Torsten's request. She's almost wishing for trouble at this point, but hides it behind a facade of what she hopes passes for bored indifference.
"Hmmmm...." the emperor ponders for several seconds before abruptly clapping his hands decisively. "I will grant you an audience with the artist if you provide me with some entertainment. Win a game of blood pig against the Shinglesnipes, and I'll allow you five minutes with him."
”Blood…pig…?” Torsten asked. He gave Ril a look which said Are we going to do this?
As she returns Torsten's gaze, Ril's arched eyebrow tries to convey the idea of Hey, you made nice to him, as she wracks her brain for any knowledge of this game.
"It's a game of my own invention - and quite possibly the greatest game in the history of Golarion. Each side of the arena has a pit containing several starving wolverines. Those are goals. You need to throw a pig into the other team's goal while defending your own. First team to score five points wins. No weapons, magic, or cheating allowed."
Laori can barely contain her excitement upon hearing the rules. "That sounds like so. much. fun!"
"If ye would give us a moment to talk to each other?" Torsten said to the 'emperor.' He had reservations about what was about to take place, but wanted to discuss it with Ril before doing anything too rash.
At Laori's comment, Ril Makes A Face.
When Torsten approaches, Ril all but grabs him by the collar. "This guy might be the biggest dumbass we've ever faced. And I'm including the otyugh!" She glares at her friend. "We're not doing this, are we?
Torsten gave a slight nod, and then turned around. With a booming voice he said "OF COURSE WE ARE DOING THIS!" Then, to the Emperor he said "On the condition, that ye allow me to kiss your ring before the match. As a sign of my respect to your rule, and to give me luck in the upcoming match."
The emperor nods his head regally. "You may approach the throne and pay homage." Meanwhile, the Shinglesnipes (eight burly thugs) make their way to the arena.
This is really turning into one of those days, Yhrrilka thinks to herself. She watches as Torsten approaches the Emperor, Whatever his plan is, I hope this jerk feels it for a week, and looks for an opportunity to back whatever play her friend makes.
Torsten walked forward to the emperor, going with confidence, his head held up high. Regarding the outstretched hand, he went down to one knee, took the emperor’s hand…and then…then he surged to his feet. The burly dwarf lifted the man up into the air and slammed him onto the ground, just in front of the throne. Then before the emperor could rise he brought a foot down onto his chest with bone-shaking force. He had no idea what the emperor was capable of to have carved out such territory for himself, but he did not want to find out.
Yhrrilka watched as Torsten threw the Emperor to the ground, smiling as he hit with a most satisfying thud. Looking at the Shinglesnipes, she says, "Nuh-uh-uh! Don't think about it." Her hand is pointed at them, with flames jumping off her fingertips.
Torsten's surprise attack utterly annihilates the so-called emperor. As the Shinglesnipes stare in shock, the hooded gnome flies into an insane frenzy and charges Torsten, gibbering wordlessly.
While in this stance, you are treated as though you were one size category larger for the purpose of calculating CMB for combat maneuvers attempted with unarmed strikes (including any combat maneuver made with your hands, such as grapples), your CMD, and your ability to use combat maneuvers on a creature. For every 5 base attack bonus you possess, you are treated as an additional size larger (if this talent would make you Colossal or larger, you instead receive a +1 bonus to combat maneuvers made with unarmed strikes and to your CMD).
Torsten turned, raised a hand, and deflected the axe blade as it came down, striking the side of it so that it went wide. Then with his other hand he backhanded the gnome across the face. "Oi!" He yelled as his hand hit home. "We're here for the artist! Stand aside and live to pick a new leader."
Still covering the goons, Yhrrilka addresses them. "From where I stand, it looks like you boys just went off the payroll. So there's no need for anyone to do anything rash, like looking to avenge that guy. Right?"
If there's one thing that angry people hate, it's getting slapped in the face. The gnome's frenzy gets even worse, and he continues to lash out with wild abandon.
Meanwhile, the former emperor's thugs seem to have made a decision. They begin to slink away from the 'palace' by ones and twos. With the death of their leader, all fight's been taken out of them.
"Fook!" Torsten cursed as the axe sliced open his arm. "Right. Ye had a chance." He muttered as the axe came around a second time. He stepped in, grabbing the shaft of the axe with one hand, stopping it from connecting. With his other hand he grabbed the gnome around the neck, lifted him up and then slammed him into the ground. Something which he proceeded to do again, and again, and again...not stopping until the little barbarian either broke free or stopped moving.
Ril watches as Torsten starts working on the gnome. "No, Torsten we nee-" She cuts herself off, realizing that fight has already gotten out of hand.
She mutters, kind of to Laori but mostly to herself, "We need someone alive." She watches the fleeing goons, and locks eyes with one specifically.
"You, stay there." She strides toward the man, confidently but trying to not threaten. "We just want information, not blood, okay?"
The gnome doesn't even try to defend himself as Torsten grabs him. Instead, he swings the axe once more.
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Torsten's attacks leave the raging gnome bruised and bloody. That isn't enough to stop him from continuing to swing insanely at the dwarf from the ground.
Laori pouts at Ril's words but gives a slight nod of acceptance. The goon she's eying quivers at the half-orc's approach but wisely decides not to flee. The flames in Ril's hand would be difficult to outrun, after all. "Uh... sure, lady. Whatever you want. I don't want no trouble. Didn't do nothing to nobody."
Yhrrilka gives her new friend the "Yeah, sure," Face. "I have no doubt, you are like babe in woods, right? When dust is settled, you show us where dopey Emperor keeps... kept his prisoners. Speaking of settling dust..." She calls over her shoulder. "Torsten, dear, have you got things under control there?"
vs touch
Fire
Yhrrilka looks over her shoulder at Torsten, and fires a Searing Blast at the gnome while barely looking. She then turns back to her new friend, beaming a bright smile. "Ehh, I'm sure he's fine. So my friend, who has never done anything to anyone, and was going to spend the rest of his time in Old Korvosa helping others, was about to tell me all about where the Emperor kept his prisoners, then show us the way in. Da?"
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Torsten continues to pound away at the prone gnome, and just when it looks like his opponent's about to rise, a bolt of fire catches him in the face. That definitely finishes off the mad gnome.
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Ril's new friend nods frantically. "Yes, yes, right this way!" He leads you inside one of the nearby buildings and through a few rooms.
Trophy Hall
The air in this room smells sickly sweet - a combination of flowers and vinegar. The unpleasant smell likely comes from the fourteen poorly preserved heads mounted on the walls of this grisly trophy hall. Most of the heads are human, although two are those of elves, and one is from a dwarf with a beard roughly sheered off to match the cut to the neck. To the north, a small child-sized bed sits against the wall opposite a wooden table decorated with a magnificent set of silverware.
Emperor's Chambers
This extravagantly decorated bedroom would seem to belong in the richest of noble villas or monarchs' castles - at least, until one looks a little more closely at the sheets on the four-poster bed and notes how stained and frayed they are, or examines the tapestries and bed curtains and sees the patches of mold and threadbare edges. A tall, well-stocked bookcase to the south turns out to be leaning against the wall for support; the contents of its sagging shelves are poorly produced books with violent or erotic names on their mildewed spines. Everything is slightly musty, stained with age, and well beyond its prime. Only the three paintings hanging on the wall hold up to closer examination, but their grisly subject matter might make them difficult to show in most public venues. To the north, a simple wooden door is secured with a lock and a heavy wooden bar.
"Wonderful," Yhrrilka says to her new friend. "We haven't introduced ourselves, so sorry. I am Yhrrilka, the fellow with the beard is Torsten, and the elven lady is Laori," she finishes with a nod to their new acquaintance. "So, what is your name?"
Ril searches the Emperor's corpse while she waits for an answer , and assuming he gives a name, she replies, "Well then, , if you answer our questions, and don't try to run, or betray us, then the worst part of your day is past you. I will, of course, check in on you from time to time, see how well you are keeping to your 'not-doing-nothing-to-nobody' life," Yhrrilka reaches over and deftly pulls a few threads from his jacket, and makes a show of storing them in a pocket for later use. "If I find you've strayed, I will try to remind you. If you cannot be reminded… well, I'm sure it won't come to that." She smiles her cheeriest smile.
In the trophy room, Ril's contempt for the man kicks up a notch. Turning to her new friend, she asks him, "And what did they do to deserve this? Any of them tell your former boss how @#$+ing stupid a game blood pig is? Honestly, Old Korvosa is basically under siege right now, and the best thing that idiot could think to do with pigs is feed them to wolverines?" When she sees the bed, she suggests to Torsten, "Maybe your playmate with the axe slept here."
In the Emperor's chambers, she looks around for any personal papers or effects that might be worth reading. Noting the locked door, she asks her new friend, "Is that what we're looking for?"