The coffins are made of simple, course wood, the lids are fitted but not locked. They could easily be opened. The wood is soaked wet and looks like it has been underwater a long time.
Perhaps you weren't quiet enough. Something stirs inside several of the coffins around the room.
"It is true. The undead walk amidst us in many forms." Araton whispers, trying to move quietly with the rest of his companions. The lantern moves overhead in response to his words, the haunted antipaladin giving it a wicked glare for just a moment. He moves towards the other door, aiming to avoid fighting the hidden monstrosities.
The others follow Araton carefully into the room, looking around cautiously at the coffins.
"Ain't scared o' no dead folk in boxes." Tawg whispers, making sure that no dead folk in boxes could hear him.
The noise of stiring turns louder as several coffin lids are thrown off and dead looking men, still wet and smelling of rotten flesh and sea water stand up out of their coffins. They pick up rusted greataxes. One of them, nearest Araton, has fancier (though still rotten) clothes, hateful red eyes and a Captain's hat, where the others look like common sailors.
These are Draugr and smell of decay and the sea, and drip water wherever they go. These foul beings are usually created when humanoid creatures are lost at sea in regions haunted by evil spirits or necromantic effects. The corpses of these drowned sailors cling fiercely to unlife, attacking any living creatures that intrude upon them. They are most hurt by piercing weapons and are resistant to fire and their attacks can cause nausea.
Eowithe nods sagely, "Ah, they've found some Draugrs, the unliving remains of sailors lost at sea. If necessary, I suggest using piercing weapons and avoid their touch, it may cause nausea. "
Sarela looks at the...draugrs...with disgust, and says, "Let me guess, they're completely mindless and don't bleed."
She pulls out her longbow and takes aim at the draugr opposite her, ready to fire if it attempts to attack them.
Ceres moves down towards a draugr and grapples it, leaving it unable to use its greataxe, constricting it, cracking bones.
Gildevar goes to help her and his strike destroys the draugr.
Tawg moves down to take on the draugr and scores a solid hit.
The draugr captain growls and another draugr rises from its coffin near Sarela. He moves menacingly towards Araton swinging his greataxe. The other draugr might be mindless zombies but this one seems fueled by hate.
The draugr near Tawg fights back.
Araton ducks underneath the attack, dodging the blow of that greataxe as he prepares himself for combat. With his sword in hand, he readies to strike back hard and viciously. He dodges around another downward strike of the greataxe, bringing his sword across the undead's chest.
Sarela misses with an arrow.
Eowithe moves in front of Sarela and attacks the new draugr, slicing it up.
Ceres goes to help Araton with the Draugr Captain and grapples him, causing much damage.
Gildevar moves to help Tawg and scores a hit!
Tawg follows up from Gildevar with a strike followed by a bite, ending another draugr.
The Captain growls again, causing another draugr to rise from a coffin. Unfortunately for him he misses Araton again.
The draugr next to Eowithe strikes her with its rusty greataxe leaving a nasty wound.
The next draugr to rise from its coffin is right near to the captain. It grabs its greataxe and looks to join the fight.
Seeing Eowithe in danger, Sarela points another arrow at the draugr and fires at it, hoping not to hit the inquisitor.
Araton barely dodges the strike from the captain, weaving out of the way before counterattacking with his blade. He aims to try and chop the undead apart before moving on to assist his comrades.
Eowithe and Sarela together almost destroy the draugr near them but not quite.
Ceres moves to the one that just stood up but is not able to hurt it.
Gildevar moves to help Eowithe and finishes off the draugr.
Tawg charges across the room to attack with Ceres.
The last remaining draugr attacks back at Ceres with its rusty greataxe giving her a nasty wound.
Sarela takes aim at the one remaining draugr and fires off another arrow at it.
Araton moves around the empty coffins now, moving to put his back against the wall and flank the remaining undead with Tawg. Using the vicious goblin's martial skill to find openings, the dark paladin would strike viciously at it.
Eowithe and Sarela together almost destroy the draugr near them but not quite.
Tawg charges across the room to attack with Ceres.
You surround the last draugr and together cut it down with coordinated strikes. No sounds come from the rest of the coffins. The room is yours. The draugr have nothing of worth on them. Their clothes and leather vests are rotten and torn, their weapons rusted (would need to be repaired if you wanted to sell). The Captain though, has an ornate compass in a pocket and a gold necklace (worth 100gp). The Captain's greataxe is also of masterwork quality.
The door at the other side of the room is unlocked and reveals another short hallway that leads to another door. This door is reinforced and locked but hanging on a hook to the right of it is the key. A new inscription above the door reads:
Serve thy master well and be rewarded
Sarela reads the inscription above the door, then quickly counts the rooms they're in before holding a finger up to her lips and indicating silence, then motioning back to the previous room she heads there, waiting for the others to follow. Once there, she says, "We have gone through eight of the nine lessons so far. We have not encountered Sir Balin yet, but Timeon made us aware of the possibility of his presence. If he is here, he is likely in that room. I propose a deception. We use our iron circlets to pretend to be Talirean soldiers, and try to make him think we're here to rescue him. Once we have him surrounded, we all strike, and try to fell him before he has a chance to break free or strike back. What do you think?"
"A cunning plan for certain. Tawg, don't speak. He will notice your...patterns of speaking." Araton said, focusing for a moment before a glimmer would run over his body. He would transform his clothing and his face into one of the soldiers that had raided his home, dragged him outside like a common criminal, and burned down all that remained of his legacy. Their faces were forever etched into his mind, faces of vengeance.
He would wait for the others to do the same before giving a nod and opening the last door, using the key to unlock it.
Sarela focuses herself, and changes into a male Talirean soldier with a plain, almost forgettable face. She alters her clothes into the uniform of a soldier, with a male form. Perhaps the male form was unnecessary, but she had yet to see a female Talirean soldier. "Araton, can you handle speaking? My voice may give me away."
Araton nods, straightening himself up and giving a devious smile.
"I will try to lay my hands upon him. When I do, that is the time to strike." His unholy gifts have given him great power, enough power to perhaps wear the warrior down and make him an easier target. Once they were all prepared, he would lead the way into the room with a look of concern. "Ser Balin? Are you here?" He said in a light tone, twisting his voice to not sound as himself.
Tawg seems slightly offended. Everyone agrees to disguise themselves as soldiers.
Araton opens the door after everyone disguises themselves. The room beyond is a little different than the others. The floor has been dug out and is now 10ft. lower and dirt instead of stone. Around the room, spikes have been embedded, making this a dangerous arena. Even below the door is only a thin pathway of hand and footholds in the wall to allow 1 person to climb at a time.
In the middle of the arena is a heavily armoured man, slightly dirty but prepared. This can only be Sir Balin, a knight of the Alerion order.
He does not seem to see through your disguises. "How did you come to be here soldiers? Have you seen any trace of my squire?"
"Sir Balin! You survived!" The false soldier said with relief in his voice while Araton quietly seethed. He knew that man's face anywhere; he was the one who cast judgement on him while his family's history, land, and riches burned away. What a sinfully delicious prize to have be brought before him. He maintained the facade though, letting the man believe that he had been rescued.
"We were on the pursuit of fugitives from Brandenscar! It seems that the master of this place is not only responsible for your kidnapping and that of your squire but also orchestrated a prison break." Araton perfected the sound of astonishment in his voice as he climbed down into the sharp arena. He gestured for those who specialized in close combat to join him, the others staying back and out of harm.
"Let us get you out of her sir. There are a few more rooms that we have not gone through yet and the threats here have been numerous. Let me help you through." His plan was to catch the man off-guard, to try and use the corruptive touch his dark lessons had granted him to inflict this righteous man with a touch of the suffering he had suffered.
If the man falls for the ruse, Araton waits till he gets close. Stepping behind him, he cannot stop the wicked grin from spreading across his face as he reaches out towards him with a purple balefire covering his hand. When he places it upon his skin, necrotic energies would burn and seethe through his flesh while it twisted his inside to make him sick.
Around Sir Balin's neck is the silver and sapphire holy symbol of Mitra you recognise as the amulet that the Cardinal wanted you to retrieve from the basement.
The others follow Araton down to Sir Balin except for Sarela(ranged?).
Araton and the others surround and flank Sir Balin who thinks he is being rescued. "My squire must be here somewhere. I must retrieve him."
Araton's attack takes him completely by surprise. "Of course the enemy would try a trick like this!"
Tawg goes in for a bite and a flurry of fists but finds only armour isntead of flesh!
Ceres finds a gap and hits Sir Balin then tries to hold onto him but fails.
Eowithe studies her target and strikes with her falchion.
Gildevar strikes a critical spot, hurting Sir Balin significantly.
As they moved into the room, Sarela kept her eyes on Sir Balin, undermining his mental defenses, making him more susceptible to her powers. Taking up a position to flank with Ceres, she gracefully struck with her scimitar at a critical vein, amplifying the pain of her blade as she did so.
As necrotic energies infested into the man, the magic would dissolve around him. Like melting flesh, the friendly soldier dripped away to reveal the hateful eyes of Araton underneath. He pulled his hand away as his comrades came closer with weapons drawn and violence in their eyes.
"A trick that a fool would fall for! Do you remember me Sir Balin? I remember the joy on your face as you destroyed my home. Your squire is here and trust me, his suffering has only begun. We'll break his will once we give him your head!" Araton spat out, his hate like venom on his tongue. This man's death would not be enough to right the wrongs done to him but they would be a start nonetheless.
Sir Balin is quite hurt by the barrage of unanticipated attacks but he does not fall. Instead of crying out he seems pleased. "So Mitra has led you right to me. Today you face His righteousness and judgement. You will not be returning to Branderscar once we're finished here."
He brandishes his longsword and touches it briefly to his chest, seeming reinvigorated and the bleeding stops. The Paladin of Mitra attacks Araton.
"Dear paladin, it is not Mitra who brought me here. You...you are a test to prove my worth to the Lord of Hell." Araton growls out, deflecting the blow off of his shield. He pivots with his longsword in hand, exchanging blows once more. "You are simply an enjoyable stone for me to step upon my story of conquest. A footnote, at best!"
With his shield in hand, Araton deflects another strike to the side and swings hard and fast at an opening to wound the man before him.
Sarela took step a back from Sir Balin and said, "Don't you find it amusing, Sir Balin, that your long career in service to that insipid sun god has led you to an ignoble death in this basement? I do." She mentally forced her way through his mental barriers to make him see the amusement in the situation.
Sir Balin deflects Araton's strike but is left open to a savage bite from Tawg that is sure to get infected if he lives then a strike from Ceres which leads to him grappled and already unconscious and dying.
You have defeated Sir Balin of the Alerion order. Chief of the knights that put most of you in chains and disrupted your lives in the first place.
Sarela cackles gleefully as Sir Balin falls. Moving as quickly as she can, she sets about stripping off his armor. "If anyone wants that, go ahead and take it. I just need to get to his veins." Once his armor is removed, she takes out a vial and uses her blade to slashes open another vein, forcing blood into the vial. Once it's full, she stoppers it, then dips her fingers in his blood and begins drawing some sigils upon his corpse as she chants in the Infernal tongue.
From treachery does your blood flow,
Your strength diminished,
Your spirit to soon be finished,
From your blood I take your power
Now it comes to me, in the penultimate hour!"
The drawn sigils glow briefly before fading back to drying blood, save for the vial, which still retains a faint glow. Smiling triumphantly, Sarela takes Sir Balin's own sword and, awkwardly, cuts off his head. Once the grisly task is done, she drops the blade and picks up the head. "So, Araton, you seemed to indicate that you wanted to leave Timeon alive. I need some of his blood, though - he's an innocent, and if he's not already terrified, seeing his master's head should do the trick nicely. Can anyone heal his wounds after I bleed him a bit?"
Araton grins as he watches the proud knight be taken low, crushed by overwhelming odds and defeated in Asmodeus's name. Dying and unconscious, the paladin has his armor taken off and disposed of. Araton eyes the masterfully made full plate and the heavy shield, noticing that it would need to be redecorated and the fittings changed but it would be a sizeable improvement to what he was already wearing.
"I can heal the young man's wounds. What...is it that you're doing exactly?" Araton asks, curious of it as he lifts the potion as well. He offers it first to Sarela and, if she does not want it, secures it to his belt. He takes the beautiful amulet of Mitra that hangs on the corpse of the paladin.
"Hmm? Oh, in my time at the conservatory, I discovered a book with instructions on a path to achieving eternal life via journal. The creator of the book had done many of the necessary magical treatments, but I suspect perished in some manner before she had the opportunity to utilize it. Since she'd been kind enough to do most of the work for me, I decided to utilize it for myself. True, the rituals are rather bloody, but isn't eternal life worth spilling a little blood? I was arrested shortly after completing the second ritual, sure I'd never have the opportunity to complete it. Imagine my surprise when I found the Book, intact, in that foolish Warden's office. If he'd had half a clue what it contained, he'd have destroyed it. Since he didn't, I can complete the last two rituals, requiring the blood of a holy warrior," she gestured at the now-deceased Sir Balin, "and a terrified innocent." She passes on the potion, allowing Araton to keep it for now.
Picking up the head of Sir Balin, Sarela gleefully smiled as she lead them back through the rooms to the torture chamber. Outside the door, she lifted Sir Balin's head by the hair, opened the door, and put his head through the door first. In a mock deep voice she said, "Don't worry, Timeon! I'll save you!" Laughing mockingly, she enters the room to look over where the boy lies, chained to the rack. "Did you truly believe that you were going to be rescued by him? That Mitra would give him the power to slay us? He didn't even get a scratch on us. He was nothing but a fool who saw what he wanted to see. No one is coming to help you. No one is going to save you. Your faith in Mitra lead you here, your father's wishes forced you here, and your master's failure trapped you here. How does that feel?"
Timeon is shocked, horrified, speachless and more at the gruesome sight of his former master's decapitated head displayed in front of him. He starts to cry. His face is red. He is terrified of what you might do to him next.
Grinning wickedly, Sarela draws a dagger and, reaching out, slices Timeon’s arm. She then takes a vial and catches some of his blood in it. Then she dips her fingers in the wound, and draws a symbol on Timeon’s forehead, chanting,
From your blood, so shall I steal,
Life’s blood taken, wracked in pain,
So shall this gift, bring life again.”
A flash of light appears, and the vial of blood glows faintly. Smiling, Sarela says, ”You can heal him up, Araton. I’m all done with him.”
He cries in pain as you cut him, trying in vain to break out of the restraints holding him to the torture table. The infernal ritual scares him all the more.
With Sarela's task done, Araton slowly enters in and stands beside the young, terrified man. He places his hand upon him and for a moment, Timeon can see them. The shadows in the corner of his eyes, victims and ancestors alike, watching the dark paladin make his mark upon him.
"Young Timeon...you must be wondering why you'd been forsaken. If Mitra was so powerful, so generous, why would they let you suffer like this? It seems...almost cruel." Araton says, sighing wistfully before offering a sad smile to the young man. "Alas, it is because despite my master being the Prince of Lies, Mitra is the master of them. The world they ask you to believe in...does not exist. Cruelty exists. Injustice exists. All because they lack the will to instill order." The antipaladin leans over the man, his sickly eyes staring down into the young squire with a conviction that was so confident as to border madness.
"Only Asmodeus can save us from this madness. His justice is true and unforgiving. He would not let you suffer here because He would've made you strong enough to never been caught. He would've made you stronger to not have betrayed your master." Araton's smile became a little crueler as he shrugged. "It isn't your fault...they made you weak. You could be more...if you could embrace it." Patting his shoulder, he would turn towards the door.
"I will inform my master that you still live. What he does next...I do not know. Perhaps you'll be given a choice. Perhaps you'll have a chance to ask Mitra why they deceived you so..."
"Nooo! That's not true!" Timeon says in defiance through tears as he is still tied to the table. The young man's faith is strong, but you see some doubt. Perhaps cracks are forcing their way in. In time he may break. For now if he is to be kept alive he should be kept captive with no chance to leave.
The high priest holds the trinket and pauses as if in deep contemplation. He watches the holy symbol glitter in the light. “A pretty enough thing, eh?” he muses. “This is a holy symbol of Mitra in particular the sort favored by the Knights of the Alerion. Perhaps you already knew that." Remember this symbol. This is the mark of those who destroyed our faith and sought to banish all trace of the worship of our Father from these shores. These, my friends, are your enemies.”[/b]
He tosses the holy symbol to whoever gave it to him. “Keep it. It may aid you in disguising yourself.” He smiles. “You have done well. Escaping from Branderscar, slaughtering Sir Balin … yes, you are worthy... most of you. Unfortunately some of you aren't going to make the cut. Tiadora will show you out. I can only have the best you understand."
Tawg, Ceres, Gildevar and Eowithe are directed to follow the lovely Tiadora.
"You two," he motions to Araton and Sarela, "have shown the most promise. There are several others that have also proved worthy that you will soon meet. There is one more important thing that you must all do together. Then, we shall finish your training."
”What is it we yet need to do, Master?”
"In time my dear." He smiles patiently.
He nods to Tiadora who returns and steps forward to show you back to your rooms. "You have fought well. Follow the slaves to your rooms and refresh yourselves. You will soon be summoned to formalise your relationship with my Master." She has lost a little of her coldness towards you. You have proven yourself a little in her eyes. You notice her wipe a smudge of something red from her cheek and lick her finger before she leaves.
At last Tiadora leads you to a beautifully appointed office richly decorated with dark wood and sumptuous brocade tapestry. Sitting in a leather high-backed chair is a devilishly handsome fellow who smiles as you enter. “I have brought you here for a reason. As you know I am Cardinal Adrastus Thorn. I am the last high priest of Asmodeus left on the island of Talingarde. Once the Prince of Nessus was rightly revered alongside the other great powers. Now, the king of Talingarde has become a puppet to Mitran fanatics who wish to destroy any religion that does not bow to their insipid sun god. For their blasphemy, I will see the same people who imprisoned and condemned you suffer. I understand what
you went through for I have faced it myself.” With that, he pulls down the sleeve of his robe and reveals his own runic ‘F’ brand. “I am going to burn Talingarde to the ground and from the ashes I will build a new nation that knows its rightful master. I cannot do this alone. I seek servants worthy of our Infernal Father’s majesty. I believe I have found them in you.”
He rises and his eyes flash with hellfire and divine purpose. “Join me! Serve me well in this holy endeavor and I will raise you up in the eyes of gods and men. I will make you princes of the new Talingarde. Today, swear fealty to me and to Asmodeus."
“Put aside forgiveness and I shall give you vengeance. Put aside mercy and be made powerful. Put aside peace and become my harbingers of war. What say you? Will you swear your allegiance or will you burn with the rest of the blind fools?”
Five of you stand in the office before this man as he awaits your response.
Araton bows his head to his companions, silently thanking them for their service. They had helped him escape from the bonds of Brandenscar and succeed over the trials underneath the manor. They would be remembered in his path to glory in Asmodeus's name. The door closed behind them and he would turn his attention towards Cardinal Thorne before slipping the amulet of Mitra into his belt pounch.
"Thank you, Cardinal Thorne, for your hospitality and the opportunity to prove ourselves to you. I-We look forward to the next steps." He would turn with Tiadora and begin to follow her out of the room. His eyes, sunken into his face with a sickly pallor, would regard Sarela for a moment before a small grin spread across his face. A worthy comrade, he would see what these others had to bring to the table. Disappearing into his room, he would let the slaves wash away the sweat and grime of combat before polishing his armor and making sure he was presentable for the last, true, high priest of the Lord of Hell.
Entering into the office, his eyes would take in the three others that were there with a calculated, cold stare. His hair was short and white upon his head, his eyes almost brown unless one caught them in the right light to see the orange that filled the spaces between. A tiefling through many lines of blood, he appeared more of a normal half-elf than one blessed by fiends. His physique was lean and strong, albeit it not very healthy. His skin was pale and there was a sick look to him, his eyes sunken into his face. He stood proudly though in a suit of full-plate, cleaned and taken from the slain paladin down below. For those sensitive to such things though, there was something about him. Not in his appearance, as handsome as he was despite his constitution, but something actually about him. Like a shadow that only would appear in the peripheral of one's sight. The man was not alone.
Listening to Cardinal Thorne's speech, the fire in his eyes bloomed and his smile, menacing and dangerous, grew as he took a step forward and placed a closed fist over his heart.
"I will serve the Dark Lord's will and shall shatter this land in his name. I will be your dark blade, Cardinal Thorne." Araton swore. A chance for vengeance, a chance for power, it was what the tyrant craved. He would rise in power and carve out his own destiny from the corpses of Mitra's faithful.
Mercy raises his eyebrows, and takes a look at the gathered group. Cardinal Thorne's offer is quite sudden, and quite a lot to take in. Declaration of war against... well, everyone in practice.
"Marvelous!" he says, flashing a wide smile revealing a set of oh-so-perfectly-white teeth. "What a better way to create new perfection than to burn down the old."
And the smile and the teeth are not the only thing that seemed perfect about Mercy. His whole being somehow radiates perfection - the colors of his clothes are brighter and richer then anything in the world has the right to be. His skin and his posture are the epitome of health and vitality, his face handsome and his auburn hair looks like the nations best hairdressers have spent countless hours to create their masterpiece.
So oddly enough, his voice sounds almost plain, as he continues: "I am your faithful servant in this endeavor, Cardinal Thorne." The voice is pleasant, and even melodic. But somehow... just real, contrast to his vivid and unreal visuals.
"And also, most pleased to make your acquaintance, all of you." This time speaking to the others, making a courteous bow as he does.
Those of you with ranks in knowledge local might have heard of Felthun, an artesian of moderate renown. The man who stands before you looks like descriptions of him, tall, handsome, muscular, but there is something wrong about him. He doesn't have the same confidence behind his eyes that he used to, and his posture is not as self-assured as what you might expect from an attractive artist. Perhaps most notably is the way that his hands don't quite line up with his interactions with his environment, seeming to slightly overlap with objects, or else hovering just above whatever he was touching. He wears simple clothing, having no armor, or visible weaponry. A raven perches on his shoulder, with a small hand mirror hanging at his belt, as well as various inks and pigments.
"Cardinal Thorn," he rasps in a ruined voice. "You have my unwavering loyalty to the death, and beyond." Although his scarred vocal cords make it hard to tell what Felthun is thinking, there is a palpable anger there.
"Your reputation proceeds some of you," he continues, speaking to the assembled group. "Being a connoisseur of culture, I have of course heard of the diabolical dancer, although I must say that whatever artist depicted your likeness for the pamphlet accompanying Divina Comoedia failed to truly capture your grace. And Lord Fal may know me from my work as a calligrapher, as I was often the only one willing to provide quality transcription services for some of his more *ahem* infernal texts." For a second while talking, Felthun seems to capture some of his former charisma, confidence shining through his broken eyes. Then it vanishes, replaced by the same mixture of fear, anger, and hunger. "I am Felthun Thriceslain."
After following Tiadora out of the office, Sarela gave Araton a short nod and headed immediately for her room. Sending all of the servants away, she pulled out her Book, then placed the two vials of faintly glowing blood on the desk. Turning to a blank page, she took her quill and, unstoppering Sir Balin's blood, she dipped the quill into it and began writing - first, of her murder of the undeserving Tatiana Varilova, then of her capture and trial. Next came the journey to Branderscar, and the beginnings of her escape, up through the death of the Warden and the recovery of her Book.
After that, she moved to Timeon's blood, continuing to detail her escape from Branderscar. She downplayed the fact she had been knocked unconscious, of course, in favor of playing it off as feigning death. Her journey through the moor, then to the Cardinal's manor. Finally, she concluded with the Nine Lessons and the death of Sir Balin. As she wrote, she made arcane markings in the margins, drawing in power. Once she finished, she spoke the words that, if everything was done correctly, would bind her soul to a point on the astral plane.
Blood of the thief, punished by my hand,
Blood of the holy warrior, dead by my hand,
Blood of the innocent, taken by my hand,
From each of you, I tell the tale
Of my birth, my life, and each of your fates,
My triumphs, my glories, my defeat of you,
Immortalized by my hand,
Through these words do I bind,
My soul, my life, for all of time,
Beyond this form of physical self,
My spirit, my legend, shall forever shine,
In planar astral for all time!"
With every word, both she and her Book began to glow, brighter and brighter. Upon the last word, Sarela felt a searing pain, as though something were being ripped out of her. She had never felt such pain, even when she was beaten by guards, cut by their swords - nothing could have prepared for her this kind of pain. It was so great she was sure it must kill her. She screamed as the agony grew more and more, and collapsed to the ground.
Just as suddenly, the pain was gone. She lay on the floor, panting. It took several minutes before she could sit up again, and several more before she could stand and stagger over to the desk. Leaning on it, she looked at the pages. The sigils shined, as though lit by an inner light, and she knew she'd succeeded. If she was slain, her body would regrow. If someone took the time to read her Book, it would regrow even faster. If someone destroyed her Book, it would recreate itself. The Mitrans who had sought to hold her back would never even know of the astral connection. Fools, all of them.
She ignored the strangely hollow feeling she felt inside, telling herself immortality was worth it, and that feeling would surely go away eventually. When she'd read the Dance, she had read that her body would undergo other changes after the ritual was complete, and she'd have to continuously write her achievements into the book, preferably in the blood of those she killed, in order to maintain her power. Privately, she wondered what would happen if she used the blood of an actual angel - or devil for that matter. Kilesa had never had the opportunity to do so. Something to keep in mind.
Triumphant, she walked over to the bed and collapsed, sleeping soundly until the next morning.
=======================================================================
Upon awakening, she bathed and ate before receiving a summons to the Cardinal's chamber. She felt completely refreshed from completing her astral legend - albeit still a little hollow, and she proudly entered his study with Araton, examining the three new arrivals as she did so. The Cardinal speaks the words to bring them together, to declare vengeance on Talingarde. As though we have any other choice. Sarela holds no such illusions. They were Forsaken, unwelcome everywhere. Assuming the Cardinal even let them leave alive - and with his blatant treason and blasphemy against the Mitran regime, that was unlikely at best - they would be hunted and killed. Only by allying with him did they stand a chance. Besides, she would never have vengeance against Princess Bellinda without him. "I am eager to bring about our vengeance for the crimes committed against us. Let us burn the Mitrans, and bring about a new order in its place."
Turning her attention to the other three, she replies to the strangely vivid man, "A pleasure to meet you as well. I am Sarela Falrin. May I have your name?"
To the muscular, broken man she says, "Thank you! Finally, someone with a discerning artistic eye sees what a talentless fool they hired for that! The 'Diabolical Dancer'? Is that what they call me now? How dramatic of them. Well, perhaps you shall paint the definitive portrait of the Diabolical Dancer. When we have time, of course. For now, it is a pleasure to meet you, Felthun."
Ophelia stood quietly in the back, allowing her more ostentatious companions to introduce themselves to the others before she would. All would see a rather unassuming woman, albeit quite muscular, with long, rich, auburn hair loosely braided at the nape of her neck. She stood rather tall at six feet with large, expressive blue eyes framed by thick eyebrows and a round face. She wore a finely made black leather lamellar over her simple clothing, a scimitar at her side.
She nodded to Cardinal Thorne, expression grim, and spoke simply, her voice smooth and smoky: ”You have my allegiance, Cardinal. I, too, am eager for vengeance.” She was no fool–she knew that this was her only chance at revenge on her mother’s killers, and she would take whatever opportunity she could get. Thorne had his own agenda, and she owed him her allegiance for protecting her from the consequences of her first attempt at revenge.
She turns to the others and nods politely in greeting. ”I am Ophelia Holdrot. Pleasure to meet you all.”
His smile grows wicked as you each speak. “Excellent. Let us make it official. Signing in blood is traditional.” He brings out a quill, a silver ritual knife and two copies of a contract written on some unidentifiable leather and written in dark red ink – The Pact of Thorns. He lets you keep one copy of the contract. The other, he takes.
Once you have all signed, “Well done. Now, we shall continue your training. It is not yet time to act against Talinguarde.”
For the next three months Cardinal Thorn and Tiadora train you, turning you into perfect weapons and forcing you to better work together as a team. Tiadora is revealed again and again as cruel sadist who revels in your failure and suffering, eager to punish and slow to reward. The slaves are present, soothing your wounds, taking care of menial tasks.
Cardinal Thorn may be a paranoid monster obsessed with revenge but he is also a genius and a teacher par excellence. His lessons are focused and never wasteful. He drills you not only individually but also as a team, forging you into a knot.
Asmodeus with you: Adrastus Thorn indoctrinates you into the deeper mysteries of worshipping the Prince of Hell.
Benefit: Whenever you channel energy, you gain a +1 trait bonus to the save DC of your channeled energy.
Master Deception: Adrastus Thorn teaches you the subtle arts of deception and how to sense when they are being used against you.
Benefit: You gain a +1 trait bonus to Bluff and Sense Motive.
Discover Illusion: Adrastus has taught you to see through deceptions and to never lie to yourself. Benefit: You gain a +2 trait bonus on saving throws against illusions.
Fear only our lord: Adrastus Thorn has shown you fear and taught you to master it within yourself.
Benefit: You gain a +2 trait bonus on saving throws against fear effects.
Focus your will: Adrastus Thorn drills you on ways to avoid magic that seek to take control of your mind and divert you from your mission.
Benefit: You gain a +2 trait bonus on saving throws against charm and compulsion effects.
Perfect spell: Adrastus Thorn drills you again and again in the use of one particular spell.
Benefit: Pick one spell. This spell’s effects manifest at +1 caster level.
Quiet as death: The Cardinal trained in the arts of being silent and stealthy.
Benefit: You gain a +2 trait bonus to Stealth checks.
Strike first: Cardinal Thorn has taught you never to shirk or hesitate in a combat.
Benefit: You gain a +2 trait bonus on Initiative checks.
Second skin: You have drilled extensively in wearing armor in combat.
Benefit: When you wear armor of any sort, reduce that suit’s armor check penalty by 1 to a minimum check penalty of 0.
Angel slayer: Adrastus thorn spends exhausting amounts of time teaching you about good celestials, their strengths and weaknesses.
Benefit: You gain a +2 trait bonus on Knowledge (planes) checks about good-aligned celestials and receive a +1 trait bonus to any damage roll you make against them.
Thorn is not always with you and it soon becomes apparent that you are not the only ones being trained. The former “White Ravens” under Elise Zadaria are also receiving the Cardinal’s attentions.
Timeon is not a welcome guest and you must care for him and feed him yourself as the slaves refuse. You would likely be severely punished if he escaped. Influencing him takes time but at the moment you have plenty of time.
"Name?" Mercy looks thoughtful, and gently takes Sarela's hand into his own. "Ah, right, people have names, correct. I was given the name of The Mercy of King Victorius, so that will have to do. Mercy, if you please. "King" and "Victorius" will have to wait."
"Enchanté..." he kisses the palm of the lady's hand.
Then he bows to the muscular man. "Felthun. An artist, then? Very good to be among cultured people. I have... known some great artists as well."
Likewise, a bow to the muscular woman. "Ophelia. What a beautiful name. A pleasure." Then, finally, he turns to the pale man. "I'm afraid, I did not catch your name, sir. You were..?"
A bit later, he receives the contract, quill and the knife from the cardinal. He stares at the knife for a moment, and then throws his head back in laughter. "Oh, Asmodeus. You give me the greatest challenge yet. Quite impossible, indeed. Well, let's see if this will do..." He cuts across his hand with the knife, and dips the quill in there. But the signature in the contract is not blood-red, but closer to the rich color of Mercy's skin.
"Such a charmer, Mercy. I'm very curious about what origins have given you that name."
"My, Ophelia, you look ready for a fight. Hopefully our enemies will prove too foolish to know they should run. Well, let's all see how we do together."
===========================
Sarela thought she was skilled at Deception already, but under the Cardinal's tutelage, she became even greater. He taught her more about detecting lies and weaving them than she had ever thought would be possible. In working with the others, she felt herself becoming more of a weapon, and more comfortable operating within the group. She was so used to being a solo actor it took some adjustment, but as she learned her companions' capabilities, as well as how she could compliment them, she was certain she was growing in power. The Mitrans would regret their choices - and one day, she would see Princess Bellinda dead at her hands. That would be a truly great day.