Jessi nods at Lemma's words. "And though it hasn't been proven, most folk here have little doubt that Thrune or his toadies were responsible for the Night of Ashes. His stupid proclamations are ruining the city culturally and fiscally, and now he's outlawed the Order of the Torrent, the only decent Hellknights in the empire!"
The bard takes a deep breath to calm herself.
"At first, I only wanted things to go back to how they were before Barzillai Thrune showed up in Kintargo," she admits, "but now I can't help but wonder if bigger things aren't possible. Depending upon how things go with the Glorious Reclamation, maybe we can actually free our city or possibly the entire realm from the yoke of Asmodeus and Hell! It doesn't feel right to me that other parts of the empire are rising up, yet Kintargo, once thought of as the seat of free-thinking in all of Cheliax, sits quietly, subjugated by the new lord-mayor's tyranny."
Not entirely trusting herself to speak at the moment, Nyxra opts to let Jessibel and Lemma take the lead.
The Raven lurks in the shadows of the shrine, pouting, but also warry a hellknight might jump out at them. Damn Nyxra and her damnable elven reflexes! That was no doubt the only chance they would have to destroy the platform before it could be used for whatever it is used for. It would have been good for Thrune to realize, even in the light of day, not all are afraid to go against him.
"Why do you oppose the Lord Mayor?"
"My tea import business has been ruined."
The seers look from one Raven to the next, considering carefully. The woman looks at the Raven with a frown, while the man seems mildly amused, though not enough to respond.
"Very well." He says finally, looking to his partner, who nods briefly. "Octavio is within. You may go, but..." He looks to Aisling. "We would like to speak with you, servant of the Inheritor."
The Iomedaean hesitates, but nods.
The woman turns to the altar in the center of the little dome. She pulls out a key and unlocks something - a hidden switch, it seems! - and opens it up. Beneath the altar is a three-foot wide shaft with an iron ladder leading below.
Below, however, is a dark, foggy mass that obscures vision.
"Be wary." The woman says, turning to offer her key to Jessibel. "You will need to honor the statue of Saint Senex - breathe upon the lips of the drowned sailor she holds, lest you awaken the guardian."
Jessibel takes the key but hesitates at the entrance until she catches Aisling's nod. Seeing the foggy mass down below, the bard casts a detect magic spell, but she doesn't recognize the spell below. Though part of her fears this is a trap, she doubts that Setrona would have set the party up. Also, the female priestess had given her the key needed to get back out. And Aisling would remain topside--at least initially.
Taking a deep breath, the bard steels herself. "Honor the statue of Saint Senex," she repeats. "Breathe upon the lips of the drowned sailor she holds. Got it."
She then casts a light spell upon her silver rapier but hesitates in case the dark-sighted Lemma or elf-eyed Nyxra want to lead the way.
Nyxra takes point as the group descends.
"...now, when you say 'breathe upon the lips of the drowned sailor', do you mean that literally or in an otherwise particular way?" She asks.
"Any and every way we can think of I'd say. Might as well put on some light. Don't want anyone confusing navels and lips due to vision problems."
"I'm not really into that 'obeisance to the divines' thing."
"I'm not really into that 'obeisance to the divines' thing."
"...that explains so much about you that it's not even funny."
"What you mean is you're not really into manners, consideration, or common sense. They told us what we needed to know and gave us access to who we're looking for. They warned us of a guardian and what's needed to avoid it."
"I was ready to leave your ass to your fate back in the square, and if you screw this up with your reactive b+~&**&~, I'll do exactly the same thing here. I'll protect myself and leave you hanging out to dry."
The seer tilts her head at Nyxra's question. "Literally." She replies after a moment, bemused by the question. "You will see clearly it soon enough."
Once the heroes are all prepared, they descend into the depths of the shrine. The ceiling of the damp chamber below is seven feet high, bolstered by square supports of rough-hewn wood. A shallow pool of water lies in the northwest corner of the room, where the rusty iron ladder descends from a hole in the ceiling above - this leaves the Ravens ankle-deep in the silty water when they arrive at the bottom of the ladder.
An iron gate blocks access into a corridor to the east. Piles of sail canvas and jumbled coils of rope litter the stony floor, and the walls, floor, and ceiling have been carved to look like wood. Brown paint clings in patches, and it’s easy to see how the room may have once looked very much like the hold of a ship. To the west stands a statue carved from driftwood depicting a woman dressed in robes, holding the body of a drowned sailor in her arms. Presumably, this is the statue of Saint Senex that the seer above mentioned.
Nyxra takes a look around the room before approaching the driftwood statue.
Lemma does the same as Nyxra.
Jessibel likewise scans the chamber for a guardian or anything else of interest. Mostly, though, she looks down at her daredevil boots, knowing she's about to learn if they're waterproof.
The women do not notice anything especially untoward, though Lemma and Nyxra do notice there's a knot of rope just lying in the middle of the room...
As they leave the ladder behind, however, the rope animates, twisting up into a humanoid form. It does not make any move, aggressive or otherwise, simply standing and watching as the heroes approach the statue.
Rope golems also have an unerring tendency to catch the necks of their foes, not only suffocating them but also preventing them from casting spells and speaking.
Jessibel gasps and points when she finally notices the...whatever it is!
Lemma, not knowing what kind of patience rope magical construct things have, decides to act quickly. She takes the route that keeps her farthest from what she figures is the 'guardian' to the statue and puffs out a very obvious breath onto the sailor's lips.
Nyxra eyes the rope-thing before following Lemma's lead and breathing a quick puff of air onto the wooden sailor's mouth. She's not as cautious about it as Lemma, straying a bit closer to the rope-construct than the tiefling does.
The Raven isn't sure who this devil-lady thinks she is, but this is not the place to be arguing, so he ignores her for now. "Oh look." He says in flat monotone, gesturing at the rope creature. "One more problem that could be solved with fire, but I guess we do not roll like that." The vigilante draws one of his tindertwigs and one of the tar bombs. This may do some good today after all. "Dearest Magpie, mind the ropes... the animate ones and the... regular ones. The coils can tighten around a limb and drag you under in a fraction of a second."
Her mentor's words snap Jessibel out of her frightened stupor. Using the hand of her buckler arm, the bard reaches down and draws her dagger, belatedly realizing that one does not generally stab at a rope--one cuts it.
"Wait a moment to see if Nyxra and Lemma have answered the keepers' riddle correctly before you light and throw that," she whispers tersely to the Raven. To the others she asks, "Are we all supposed to breathe into the sailor's mouth??!!"
Nyxra's breath on the sailor's mouth sends the rope golem collapsing back to the ground, leaving the room without a threat. Evidently, that is all that is needed for the sake of the guardian.
That leaves little else to do in the room save to look around and move on towards the iron gate in the distance. The key Jessibel received unlocks the door, and allows them to move forwards into a corridor that turns sharply to the right.
Crisis averted!
Letting out a deep breath, Jessi sheathes her dagger again, gives Nyxra a nod, and proceeds deeper into the shrine. She glances around apprehensively, worried about further guardians...or an unreceptive Hellknight hiding in the darkness.
Nyxra glances around as the party keeps moving forward.
The tunnel turns twice before exiting into a vault that holds over three dozen human-shaped bundles of sailcloth, each wrapped tightly, sewn shut with heavy thread, and laid respectfully side by side on the cold stone floor. A shallow pool of water lies in the southeast corner, while in the northeast corner of the room someone has set up a camp. Said person stands ready, a weapon in one hand as he looks at the Ravens.
"These bodies," he waves a hand at the bundled shapes, "are those of the drowned sailors who had no families to mourn them - or whose families were so far away that they could not be found. They lie here, given a place of honor by the grace of Saint Senex."
He fixes each of the Ravens with a stern gaze. "Those who seek Octavio Sabinus have found him. His safe capture, however, is no certain thing." He keeps his polearm at the ready, wary of the threat they represent.
The Raven has a flashback to the underground battle with the polearm wielding Nox when he sees the polearm wielding hellknight. That went well. A fight with this man in this place would likely end the same. Regardless, he advances with his usual swagger. "So who is it that gathers up these drowned sailors and transports them here? If a sailor drowns, I expect his ship would be following him to the depths."
Jessibel regains some of her nerve as her mentor addresses the Hellknight lictor.
"We haven't come to capture you," she tries to assure the man. Noting that her rapier is drawn, she swiftly adds, "The only reason my rapier is out is so it can serve as a magical torch in this darkness."
After a pause, the young bard adds, "We've been actively opposing Lord-Mayor Thrune and his foolish proclamations. Well...more like helping those affected by those proclamations or threatened by his thugs, actually. But the Order of the Torrent has always had an honorable reputation--at least compared to other Hellknight orders--and we thought maybe we could ally against a common enemy."
Shifting her weight before speaking further, Jessi blurts out a personal theory: "Did Thrune disband your order because you were looking into all the disappearances from the Night of Ashes?"
Unable to shut up now that she's started talking, Jessibel belatedly adds, "Oh--we visited your cousin, Setrona. She thought we were trustworthy; otherwise she wouldn't have pointed us in your direction."
Lemma backs up Jessi's plea.
"We aren't looking for a fight or a captive. Depending on what you need, we can be allies or help keep you hidden and help you escape the city. We've taken others in already. We are the Silver Ravens and most of those who we have helped have joined us. But we also protect others who have not taken that step."
Octavio lowers his weapon, disregarding the Raven for the moment. Instead, he focuses on the two women. "Hm... would-be rebels, are you? If Setrona believes you are trustworthy, then perhaps you are."
"Disregarding your insults against the other Orders, of whom some are worthy and others are less so, I do not believe that the Lord-Mayor ever intended to allow our Order to remain. Perhaps for fear that we would start looking for the disappeared, or perhaps simply because our loyalty is to the law more than it is to him."
That out of the way, he turns back to the Raven. "Who else but the seers above?"
That question answered, he sighs heavily. "You certainly are hopeful idealists, but in my experience, people like you lack in discipline. My cousin believes you have good hearts, and it seems to me that she is correct." He turns his gaze from one Raven to the next. "However, it takes more than heart to stand up for what's right - and succeed."
"While I do not like the changes the Lord-Mayor has made to Kintargo, I will not join in your battle without two assurances. First, when Citadel Vaull was seized, there were a number of armigers of my order that were taken. I shall not act against the Lord-Mayor whilst they remain hostage."
He scratches his chin. "Second, and just as importantly, I need evidence that you are more than just thugs who would cause chaos in the streets by fighting dottari and the Lord-Mayor's absurd new militia. Show me that you can work subtly and at least partially within the bounds of the law." Octavio's expression hardens. "Fortunately, I have an idea as to how you can accomplish both."
Jessibel's jaw drops when Lictor Sabinus suggests that she and her friends might be thugs. She turns to see if her friends are equally offended. There stands the Raven, cloaked and wearing his enigmatic and mysterious mask; then there's Lemma, the seductive tiefling slayer from the lawless slums; and Nyxra, the tall, dark-skinned elf, who would look stoically majestic if only she'd smile...but Nyxra rarely smiles, and that makes her look kind of mean.
We DO look like thugs! the bard realizes with a resigned sigh. Where's Aisling when we need her?
"I'd say we've showed a decent amount of subtlety by finding you and not angering the shrine's guardian," Jessibel counters. "But what sort of task do you propose?"
Right out of the gate Sabinus comes across like she expected. She thinks he's real drag. But, just he he needs them, they also could use more allies. The big contribution she thinks Sabinus can make is that he thinks like the opposition. Given their similar roots in education, training, and outlook on things, he might be able to better predict what moves Thrune will make, both strategically and tactically.
"Understandable, nobody should abandon their people. As for the second part, what do you have in mind?"
Sabinus arches a brow at Jessibel. "Did you now? But I am not a prisoner, nor were the seers of Saint Senex your enemies. What I ask of you now will be different."
He folds his arms, looking at Lemma. "I wish for you to rescue my armigers without causing more violence, though if it is absolutely necessary, I will accept some casualties of our foes. However, I believe my armigers are being imprisoned at the old Holding House."
"I leave it to your own planning as to how to accomplish this rescue, but I suggest that you attempt to use trickery." The lictor looks like he's swallowed something bitter as he continues. "Gaining access to transfer orders - by forgery, if necessary - would allow you to walk in and remove my people without any suspicion whatsoever."
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Aisling gives it some thought, as she absently toys with the sybmol of Iomedae that hangs round her neck. "I prefer to work within the law when possible." She does some more thinking. "I've worked in both defence and prosecution, maybe I could get hold of a legitimate transfer order and we just add some names to it?"
Jessibel jumps a bit when Aisling speaks up, not having realized that the Iomedaean had descended into the strange crypt to rejoin the party. The priestess's words get the bard thinking, and Jessibel temporarily dismisses the prestidigitation effect that colors her armor, revealing its original red-and-black design.
"What organization would issue a transfer order?" she asks Aisling. "The dottari? The Asmodeans? The Chelish Citizens Group? Lucky for us, all of our enemies seem to have red and black as their primary colors: it makes it easier to disguise myself as a member with a few simple alterations."
Suddenly realizing that the lictor might get the wrong impression about her, Jessibel quickly stammers, "Uh, not that I'm in allegiance with any of those people! No, I just think that a red-and-black color combination is hellacool...."
The lictor considers Aisling's offer. "If you are willing to make that effort, you may wish to do so. However, if you do so in such a way, you will paint a target on yourself and your coworkers, because any legitimate transfer order would have somewhere that is not 'freedom' as a destination, and would expect my armigers to arrive there."
It would also refer to the prisoners by name and prisoner number, and need a significant number of signatures - whether from the Lord-Mayor or the duxotar of the dottari, or possibly a few captains of the same organization.
The conversation's technicalities leave Lemma far behind.
Nyxra observes the proceedings with her usual stoic frown.
Jessibel falls silent as well, her thoughts either still on Octavio calling her a thug or doting upon her beloved armor....
Aisling sighs as her idea falls apart on closer inspection. "And it was such an elegant plan. Oh well. What other ideas do we have?"
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Jessibel's eyes go glassy as Aisling explains what would go into a falsified transfer order...and just how many corrupt officials stand between the Ravens and a liberated Kintargo.
The bard shakes her head. "None. If we have to break into the Holding House to find prisoner numbers, we might as well just break them out while we're inside."
"Setrona might know of someone who can assist you in forgery." Octavio says grudgingly. "She's always had knowledge she should really have reported to the dottari."
"Then let's go back to the Tooth and Nail for a chat and some planning...and a good meal!" Jessibel suggests.
"We'll figure something out." Lemma sounds confident.
Nyxra nods in agreement. "Very well."
Uncomfortable with the situation, the Raven chooses not to antagonize the Hellknight so they may hasten their farewell.
Octavio nods. "Very well. Send word to the Seers should you find it necessary, but try not to bring too much traffic to the area."
With their goals set, the Ravens return to the city, making their way through Old Kintargo. As they go, they hear the shouts and chatter from a crowd to the northwest - near the park where the excruciation platform is.
Aisling tags along with teh others as they head back, not sayring very much. As they reach a junction in the roads, she stops dead as the sound of the crowd gets to her. Oen part of her knows that in the big picutre she can't save everyone, and that runing in without a plan isn't going to get things done. Organiseation, not improvisation, is the way to win this one.
The other part of her knows tha waliking past someone being tortured and doing nothing is the opposited of good.
She looks at teh others, with an agonised expression on her face as hte internal conflict is clearly visble. "I'm sorry. I do't think I can jsut walk away from this one."
Jessibel's been unusually quiet on the return trip from the shrine as well, commenting briefly that Lictor Sabinus was every bit the stick-in-the-mud she'd expected him to be, though "a bit more handsome."
At Aisling's words, the teen gives a nod of support and suggests, "Let's check out what's going on now. Then head to the tavern, talk things through, make some plans, and maybe return after dark when there will be less witnesses around."
"Let's take a look then. But I'm not feeling suicidal."
With that decided, the Ravens return to the park where the excruciation had been set up. Now, the area is packed with people, and the guard is increased manifold - there are four dottari guards standing guard, but so too are there four more Hellknight armigers - of the Rack, by the looks of them.
Atop the structure there's a doghouse covered with nails, and two dogs leashed to the outside platform. A human man is crouching uncomfortably within the doghouse, carefully keeping himself out of the reach of their hungry jaws, but he looks badly hurt already.
The crowd murmurs - only a handful of people cheer and jeer, the rest simply staring in stony silence.