Kenton nods. If our interests indeed align, then we should hear one another out, he says, taking the lead alongside the mysterious Xan.
"I think, perhaps, there is little for me to learn. My purpose here is simply to make sure you stay on target, and this cult is most definitely the target."
With a snap of his fingers, he vanishes.
Xavien's expression darkens. "That man is most certainly not an ally. I advise that we proceed cautiously in the Bower---a rash and violent action may turn public opinion against us. And that may be his true purpose."
He does, however, heed the man's advice to enter the Bower well-prepared, casting another layer of magic.
Forewarned, the party approaches the bower. The circular building is 120 feet in diameter, 40 feet tall, and topped with a domed roof painted sky-blue with wispy white clouds. Other than occasional ornamental stonework, such as cornerstones and other accents, the Encircling Bower’s walls are made of crumbling brick. The theater’s small stage entrance is blocked with stone on the inside, and its other two entrances are 15 feet wide. The entrances lead to aisles that bisect sweeping arcs of benches around the nearly circular stage. The auditorium is paved with well-worn brick, but most of the upper floor is made of wood. The theater’s lower level is 15 feet high throughout, carved from stone, and floored with large, durable ceramic tiles.
There is little organized activity at the moment.
Xavien wanders about the room, testing out some vocal scales as if trying get his range of the auditorium. As he does so, he keeps an eye---both, actually---on the chatter and glances that flit about the room.
The only hunch that Xavien picks up is the nearly sickly sweet welcome. They truly believe that somewhere out there the long-dead Prince Carrius of Taldor, whose nobility and compassion for the Taldan people allowed him to resurrect himself during Taldor’s greatest hour of need."
No one seems to know where to find him, but they definitely believe it to be true.
Xavien thinks on the mannerisms, idioms, and attire of the cultists milling about.
When given an opportunity to learn by speaking, Aurelia flexes her family's diplomatic muscles. She speaks with anyone willing to share their thoughts.
Ianthe follows Aurelia's example and makes her way around the room, engaging folks in conversation.
Corran loves theatres. Such marvelous buildings. He is poking around...
Perception:
Xavien sees that most of their behavior, words, even attire is based on the worship of Aroden. Only Aurelia seems to make any headway, and all she gets are friendly (too friendly) invitations to next week's services.
Corran pokes around, but finds little else of note.
If these people are a dangerous cult, it certainly doesn't show....
The frustration of flailing in your investigation to find the missing agent begins to take it's toll. Momentum begins to fade. Evil divs wrecking dreams, a supposedly dangerous cult that appears benign, rumors of a reborn monarch, and a political rival in town is just seems to get in your way....
The only clear lead left is Orvestikar Manor. It's supposedly the home base for the increased bandits. If Desna smiles you'll either find your agent, or bring law to the land...
"I don't know... Maybe The Cult was on guard? And they worship Aroden, which... Okay, it's a red flag. I'm calling it a red flag. Maybe we go to the next event and bring cupcakes or something."
Corran is totally on-board for Bandit Hunting.
"Before we go, perhaps we might look into this 'Xan' character. His purpose is pulling us aside may have been to give the cultists just enough time to clean up and make the appearance of innocence."
Unless another intercedes to object, Xavien proposes doing just that. He will make polite inquiries wherever he can---with Council servants, with barkeeps, with soldiers on duty---about strange tall Taldan men going by the name of 'Xan,' about enemies and allies of the Cult of the Twilight Child, about the significance of bird-beaked leather masks.
hours
Corran, frustrated at how quickly the party struck out, steps outside into the sun and takes a deep breath. No one, even the erudite Xavien knows a thing about Xan. It appears that progress is narrowing.
Xavien still comes up with nothing...
With the group stymied thus far, Aurelia agrees with Corran. "Best we work on what we can work on. Let us see what is there is to see at Orvestikar Manor."
"Hold, Lady Basri!" Xavien holds up a hand. "Those milling about the Bower bore the markings of the worship of Aroden. Might then we inquire about town into other centers of Aroden's vestigial faith? Perhaps that may lead us to the answers we seek."
Aurelia shrugs. "If you feel we need to canvas the town about Aroden and their wayward adherents, then we can. I worry that it might be time lost, but I suppose there's only one way to truly know."
She will also help throw dice at the problem gather information about what they've seen.
Other than token manners of idioms and idols, there is no sign of Aroden worship in town...
Xavien lets out a deep sigh, an uncharacteristic melancholy capturing a brief victory in his visage. It fades quickly. "Very well then!" he says brightly. "Let us carry the battle to Orvestikar Manor."
Wrapping up the day, the party resolves to finally check out Orvestikar Manor in the morning.
The morning of Gozran 24 is drizzly, but warm.
Constructed by a wealthy Taldan aristocrat who fell upon hard times in his dotage, Orvestikar Manor is situated at the edge of the Whistling Plains, 9 miles northeast of Yanmass. The manor was sold, but the buyer was killed in a duel and the property fell into legal limbo. It was untended for years and, after a series of particularly fierce winters, its roof and upper stories collapsed. The site has been abandoned for more than 200 years and serves only as a temporary camp for travelers or an occasional storehouse for smugglers. Orvestikar Manor has a reputation for ill luck among the people of Yanmass, who have shunned the site for generations.
This manor of stone and wood has collapsed into little more than rubble. The walls are mounds of stones fifteen feet high, while former towers are nothing more than slightly taller ruins. The only portion of the manor that appears intact—and the only readily identifiable passageway to its interior—is a wide gate on its southern side....
Xavien is dressed for the day in a loose charcoal shirt tucked neatly into brown linen pants and knee-high leather boots, a burgundy pelisse hung loosely over one shoulder. He hums a few spells about himself upon the approach. When still some distance from the Manor, he holds up a hand and takes a long gaze at the ruined structure, eyes sharp for movement---or another way in.
Orvestikar Manor was originally constructed of stone and wood, but the manor is almost completely destroyed. The manor’s impressive entry alone remains intact. The former walls are mere mounds of stone 15 feet high.
A life-sized statue of a rearing elephant, complete with caparison and saddle, stands in the middle of an overgrown trail near the manor.
Xavien shades his eyes against the sun. "I can make the climb and lower a rope to let us slip over the walls. Given Galindra's warning, we had best not use the front gate. Though that elephant is intriguing..."
Kenton chuckles a bit. Perhaps the last resident had a pet basilisk, he says with a smirk.
He catches himself when he sees the saddle astride beast in the statue, tilting his head in surprise, his smile fading. O! my prophetic soul!
Kenton's joke gets a low chuckle out of Xavien. He intones a quick spell and gazes intently at the elephant...
Corran sings soft, his voice barely audible.
There must be some kinda way outta here...
Within the tumbled walls of the manor, an open space measuring roughly fifty feet square lies choked with stone and timber debris. A mostly ruined roof still clings to the corners, providing a bit of shelter over a wooden staircase in the northwest corner.
Among the debris, a dozen statues depict a gruesome tableau of staged death. In the center of the courtyard, two statues have fallen in a duel, amid a frozen circle of distraught onlookers dressed in improvised finery. On the staircase, statues fall over each other in apparent attitudes of grief. At the base of the staircase stand two statues in long, makeshift wedding coats. Most of the statues are half painted, with vivid red paint representing bloody wounds.
Kenton waits for the rope, and climbs up once it is in place.
"I can't shake it. I have a very bad feeling about this."
Corran anchors the rope, and motions for the Ianthe and Aurelia to go before him.
Aurelia helps Ianthe with the rope, climbing up last. She makes an effort to move slowly, testing each foothold to ensure she doesn't slip.
Xavien puts a finger to his lips as the others drop down into the ruined tower. He hauls up the rope before sliding down himself.
The scene is... unsettling. He mutters a short spell , sweeping his gaze over the assembled statues before advancing with Koriana's Blade at the ready.
Xavien's watchful eyes pores over the scene.
Aurelia is quick to share what she knows of the nobility.
Perception:
Knowledge: Nobility:
Knowledge: Nobility:
Corran's eyes pass over the scene. He tracks every noise and inhales deep, smelling and tasting the air. As he passes a piece of statuary, he reaches down and gently runs his fingers over it.
The party collectively picks up that all is not as it seems. While seemingly random, the statues are anything but. They are set up to mimic a famous scene - the climax of Ailson Kindler’s The Broken House of Kriegmoor, in which a wedding meant to settle a feud instead becomes a tragic scene of death. The participants here are all soldiers (actually, they're dressed as Taldan cavalry to be precise) and vagabonds, rather than the aristocrats represented in the novel though...
It's missing a few key players though: a brother and sister as well as a priest....
All but Kenton catch the real horror though. One of the statues is a perfect likeness of Sir Meir Dratavis, the missing agent.
Before conversation can ensue a meek voice calls out, "Please! I mean you no harm. Please! Don't turn me to stone! I didn't mean to come in here I just needed shelter!" Xavien and Corran both point to the northwest corner as the source. Sure enough a girl of maybe 14, dressed in rags stands there with her hands up.
Corran's posture softens and he approaches the child.
"Come here, Friend. We're no monsters and we can't turn anyone to stone! Are you all right? What's your name?"
Persuasion: if needed.
"My name is Aresphana. Thank you. Thank you. Please. Might one of you have food? I haven't eaten in days."
Xavien smiles gently at the lass, but does not interrupt. He silently hands Corran a hunk of bread, a wedge of gruyere, and a zestar apple from his satchel.
All the while he picks over the girl's words.
Kenton wordlessly removes his waistcoat and drapes it around the child's shoulders.
While naturally suspicious, Xavien doesn't pick up on any specific hunches.
Kenton places his waistcoat on the girl. She gives a gentle smile, "Food?"
she looks up at Kenton with big eyes, reflecting the dim light of the interior. When Kenton looks at them he sees that the pupils are elongated, slits really.
She smiles.
"I think you'll make an excellent statue." A magical glamor melts away leaving a woman with hair of writhing serpents.
INITIATIVE:
ROUND 1:
Medusa: TBD
Kenton (54/54): TBD
Corran (36/36): TBD
Ianthe (44/44): TBD
Xavien (69/69 *75/75): TBD
Aurelia (40/40): TBD
-----------------------------
TACTICAL MAP
Location: Temple of Abadar
Fortitude!
Corran who is currently holding bread Xavien gave him to give to the girl by the way starts to petrify, his skin taking on a grey pallor and his joints audibly locking. He shuts his eyes, eyes that immediately crust over with stone, and pushes outward, tensing his muscles and flexing, forcing the stone to receed, which it finally does. He straightens up and reaches for his falcata, glaring at the monster but not making a direct gaze. He looks down, waiting to defend himself and watching the shifting lower trunk of her to try to anticipate the vector of attack.
Ianthe can feel the stiffening of her ars, but she forces her will over her body and returns life back to her limbs. She laughs as she crumbles the acorn in her fist to dust.