At Akkramar’s hinting about divine healing, the fishermen change up their demeanor. One fish had escaped but another was landed, and with broken bones to nurse the men become eager to share their fire, a little ways off the donkey trail.
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Melira watches Bez work. "How does that note...what..."
"Ok. Fine. But whatever we do, we question him as soon as he wakes up. We need to figure out if there are others still in danger before we do anything else." Is he connected to the destroyed pages? Was he just trying to get at Saen? There was no love lost between the elf and the half drow, but Melira wasn't sure how deep the animosity went. Saen had always been distant, even as a friend. Maybe there's a deeper conspiracy at play here... Melira's hand went to the hilt of her dagger for a moment, but she didn't draw it. She still had her sword out, and the weight of steel in her hand calmed her nerves.
And who is this Bez I find myself working with? It was not every day that Melira met armed strangers sneaking through secret passages, though carrying weapons was common enough. She could try asking a more direct question, but perhaps it would be better to wait.
"If you're ready to begin, I can heal good old Rhen here. Or we can wait for him to wake up the old fashioned way, it's not like anyone's going to be coming around anytime soon." The thought of the hacked corpse out in the auditorium made her nervous, so she tried to sound confident.
”Well... Yes boy” - Akkramar grunted - ”Dunno about the lass, but I serve the Gods, and if they see fit I can be a conduit for their healing powers, if that be what ye be askin’ - he added - ”Or ye’re so daft, ye hadn’t understood we have been tryin’ ta help all along?”
”I am calm...” - he nodded at Faith, and noticed the scar. But he said nothing about it.
”Grab yer wounded friends and bring them close, so I can look over them. Go” - he turned to the man again.
The fishermen look at each other, then at Akkramar, then back at their friend. Then back at each other. Without another word they jump to it, gathering their injured friend between them and hoisting him by the shoulders. They bring him in close toward the dwarven priest and the fey knight, looking on expectantly.
"Others? Oh yes, of course. We'll keep the questions quick, and if he's reluctant to answer, I won't draw this out and will put him under again, as it were. ...Do be a dear and don't heal him too much, prithee?"
He waggles the note. "Rhen can deny all he wants; this places stinks of corpse and the Academicians can detect the spells he cast, unless he was clever indeed at covering his tracks." He looks around with disdain. "I think he wasn't. Don't use your garderobe as your eatery, as they say."
Melira nods. "He does have a certain reputation around here." Melira adds as they make their preparations. She speaks the sacred words and waves a hand at the half-drow.
Once he's awake, she watches him with solid brown eyes. "Why did you summon these undead, and were you working alone?"
Faidh stands adjusting her clothes and heading over in hope to hide her scarred tattoo. As she did, she got to her armor and cloak and put them back on. She did it quickly, not happy to have it exposed. It was her shame, her burden. Shivering both from the wet clothes and the possible reveal.
Melira nods. "He does have a certain reputation around here." Melira adds as they make their preparations. She speaks the sacred words and waves a hand at the half-drow.
[dice=Healing Word]1d4+3
Once he's awake, she watches him with solid brown eyes. "Why did you summon these undead, and were you working alone?"
Even in his unconscious state, the half-drow’s tense face visibly relaxes as the healing magic washes over him. The next thing to be seen is the rope going taught as he reflexively strains against it before he has even opened his eyes. Maybe because of his people’s propensity for dark places, he never raises his eyelids even as Melira speaks.
His thin lips neither smile nor frown as he begins to utter his reply.
”Dear Girl. I had thought you clever enough to know when you are sniffing around a well you should not drink from. Alas you do not know me well enough, and you must think these necromantic arts to be my own area of interest. What about Saendithas then? He must remember the sting of my bolts well enough to tell you that I deal only in the art of evoking energy. So go on then. Report me to the academy board if you think I acted alone. I think you’ll find that there are things you are better off not knowing.”
Faidh stands adjusting her clothes and heading over in hope to hide her scarred tattoo. As she did, she got to her armor and cloak and put them back on. She did it quickly, not happy to have it exposed. It was her shame, her burden. Shivering both from the wet clothes and the possible reveal.
As Faidh joins the others a fire is being lit. The firbolg gets the distinct feeling that one of the fisherman managed to get a look at the tattoo while she was dressing herself.
She even notices that fisherman talking off to the side to one of the others, and the one who is listening looks right at her over his shoulder indiscreetly as if the conversation may be about her.
Bez rolls his eyes and knocks Rhendlyth over on his belly. He places a chair leg on the center of Rhendlyth's spine and sits down, balancing carefully.
"How ill-mannered, Rhendlyth. Now, here's the deal. You're going to answer the lady's questions. Then you'll tell me what your pugilistic brother has said about Vex--you know who that is--and where to find said brother. Do this, and your back remains in one piece. Don't do this, and, oh by the Six Lairds, is that a zombie behind me?" He leans forward enough to put painful pressure on the half-drow's vertebrae.
"And. If I am forced to repeat myself, I will clean out your ear so that you may hear me clearly," continues Bez, drawing a sword and sticking it into Rhendlyth's aforementioned pointy ear.
Melira braces at the sudden violence. Vex? She isn't very familiar with Rhen's brother Balgrish. She had heard a poetic account of one of his duels, and one of her old friends had been half in love with the man. Saen had told her he was cruel, but she had only seen him in passing.
Rhen, she knew enough. I'm glad at least one of us has a taste for violence.
She stepped forward, so that she stood with her feet next to Rhen's face. He wouldn't be able to look up at her without craning his neck uncomfortably, she hoped. "Who summoned the zombies? Where are they now? Why are you here?" She repeated the questions slowly, making sure she was being clear.
And what am I better off not knowing?
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Faidh looks to Akkramar. She then looks back to the fisher men, then to her dwarf companion. It could be anything they were going on about. I mean she herself was a walking legend. Her people rarely if ever seen. It could be the fight with the creature. Could be any number of things,but deep down she knew it was her scar and the remaining tattoo.
It was a burden, magical that it was it was an ancient one passed down. She was the protector of her people, guardian of the fey, keeper of the first world and slayer of those who meant to harm the ancient works. It also was a symbol she was told lost to most on this side of the veil.
Faidh eyed the men know, with a scowl and her face followed suit. She was growing paranoid. If they knew they would cast her out as well? Chastised as a deserter and blasphemer. A walking blight to her office and any who held the symbol truer then she.
Though she did what she did for love. A love she seemed was no longer reciprocated, Faidh had paid for it and then some. The firbolg was exiled to this world, to preform her sacred duty without the celebration. She would be a footnote in the analog of her people's history. A name and date with only citations added of the creatures or events stopped. No stories or tales, save her betrayal.
Though hungry she ate little. Her mind and body in turmoil due to the very paranoia. She finally whispered to Akkramar. " We should carry on, I do not like the looks I am getting "
"We can go - lemme just see to this lad here" - Akkramar replied, while looking over the man.
If necessary, he will use divine magic to heal him.
As Faidh is starting to keep her distance, and Akkramar tends to the wounds, some of the fisherman have been gathering tinder for a campfire.
As Akkramar finishes his prayers and the wounds are mended, one of the waterlogged fishermen sits upright, looks right at Fiadh and makes a hand sign signifying reverence for the green gods.
Although it was not immediately suggested by the style of toga they wear or their dialect of the common tongue, Faidh knows that the ethnic backgrounds of the people of this land are diverse and complex, therefore it is certainly possible that these men have a tribal ancestral connection to the pantheons of the old ways.
Indeed, it becomes clear from their body language that they are devout towards Faidh’s patron.
Faidh flushes, and nods then looks down and shrinks even further into herself. The tall woman, mutters a quick prayer of repentance again. She dared not to say any of the other prayers unless asked for she was not worthy of them.
When Akkramar returns she doesn't look up but speaks." Its fine. We, we can stay and warm up. They,they follow the old ways. I...I..will be okay. I promise" She was soft spoken here as she seemed to remain shrunken, as if trying to be the same height as Akkramar himself.
As Akkramar finishes his prayers and the wounds are mended, one of the waterlogged fishermen sits upright, looks right at Fiadh and makes a hand sign signifying reverence for the green gods.
"No need to thank me lad" - Akkramar grumbles - "Just do some hand signs I cannot understand to my friend over there, and we are all good. Bah!" - he adds, shaking his head and moving to join Faidh again.
When Akkramar returns she doesn't look up but speaks." Its fine. We, we can stay and warm up. They,they follow the old ways. I...I..will be okay. I promise" She was soft spoken here as she seemed to remain shrunken, as if trying to be the same height as Akkramar himself.
"Old ways? Not sure what ye be talkin' about, but if yer fine, I'm fine" - he nods.
Melira braces at the sudden violence. Vex? She isn't very familiar with Rhen's brother Balgrish. She had heard a poetic account of one of his duels, and one of her old friends had been half in love with the man. Saen had told her he was cruel, but she had only seen him in passing.
Rhen, she knew enough. I'm glad at least one of us has a taste for violence.
She stepped forward, so that she stood with her feet next to Rhen's face. He wouldn't be able to look up at her without craning his neck uncomfortably, she hoped. "Who summoned the zombies? Where are they now? Why are you here?" She repeated the questions slowly, making sure she was being clear.
And what am I better off not knowing?
Rhendlyth flexes his jaw and you hear a sickening pop as it clicks back in place. Under the blindfold you can see his eyes are squinting. His lips are peeled back in a thin sneer.
”As far as I can tell these cadavers must have been animated by whatever forbidden magic you were studying back here in a secluded hall. I was just sent by the higher ups to track down the missing corpses and see what happened. So go on. Call whoever you want. Let’s get on with it.”
" Gods and oaths of people I thought long past. Seems some humans are still worshippers. Though do they hold the old ways? Maybe, though I doubt it."Faidh says first to tell him . Then she trailed off speaking to her self. It was introspective.
"I must learn more later. It is a city with a library we go. I shall look there" She finishes as she looks down, distant.
When the sun has descended and the fire is lit, the men cook the fish wrapped in wet leaves and begin to cut out steaks with a flat stone knife. They throw a small portion into the smoldering coals and ceremoniously bring the first filet to Faidh along with a smear of ashes from the fire.
Standing before the knight with the offering of cooked fish in the left hand and ash in the right, they await a blessing with heads bowed.
"Well, they definitely seem ta have taken a shine to ye" - Akkramar chuckled as the men approached with the fish, moving slightly aside and waiting patiently.
Melira looks down at Rhen, sword still drawn. I wonder what he hopes to accomplish.
"I don't think you understand what's going on here, Rhen, so let me lay it out for you. We're not going to call anyone for help, nor do we have to report this to any authorities." With an exertion of willpower, Melira manages to finally sheath her sword. She crosses her arms, comfortable. "Unless you tell us what we want to know. This whole thing could, in theory, could get swept under the rug. You could keep whatever shreds of honor you still cling to. More likely, you will face some kind of punitive action."
"The alternative is that no one ever sees or hears from you again."
Melira smoothes her hair and wipes the sweat from her brow, slowly putting herself back together. "I'm not making threats here Rhen, I'm just trying to explain what's going on here. I want you to understand that it's in your best interests to help us."
"Well, they definitely seem ta have taken a shine to ye" - Akkramar chuckled as the men approached with the fish, moving slightly aside and waiting patiently.
Bez tries to determine if Rhendlyth is really that immune from the Academy's disapproval...he doubts it to be so.
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Fiadh blinked and blushed before she smiled and in Sylvan spoke.
The big woman blinked and her face grew an even deeper shade of purple as she realized what she had said. The holy parts of Fiadh's job was something she did not receive training. The young woman was an instrument not an evangelical. Still she would've had to know something more of her obligations and duties, but she messed it up before she was cast out.
" Sorry," Faidh says looking at the fishermen." Thank you" She repeated forgetting herself. She doubted few in this realm knew the strange language of the fey or the added nuisance and accent thrown in. Let alone her peoples own ancient tongue that blended Elvish and Giant together.
Bez tries to determine if Rhendlyth is really that immune from the Academy's disapproval...he doubts it to be so.
[dice=Insight]1d20 + 2
Bez gets the feeling that Rhendlyth was working for someone higher up and that’s why he seems so confident.
Melira looks down at Rhen, sword still drawn. I wonder what he hopes to accomplish.
"I don't think you understand what's going on here, Rhen, so let me lay it out for you. We're not going to call anyone for help, nor do we have to report this to any authorities." With an exertion of willpower, Melira manages to finally sheath her sword. She crosses her arms, comfortable. "Unless you tell us what we want to know. This whole thing could, in theory, could get swept under the rug. You could keep whatever shreds of honor you still cling to. More likely, you will face some kind of punitive action."
"The alternative is that no one ever sees or hears from you again."
Melira smoothes her hair and wipes the sweat from her brow, slowly putting herself back together. "I'm not making threats here Rhen, I'm just trying to explain what's going on here. I want you to understand that it's in your best interests to help us."
[dice=Persuasion]1d20+5
Rhendlyth’s demeanor changes as Melira speaks. The confident sneer begins to fade from his lips.
”If I am to tell you anything it will leave me in peril. I doubt you have any magic strong enough to make it appear that you killed me? Or that I killed you for that matter? Bear in mind it would have to be a ruse or glamour strong enough to deceive an academy of arcana. I doubt it is possible. I didn’t get a good luck at you, swordsman, but I know you could have slain me and you didn’t .”
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”If I am to tell you anything it will leave me in peril."
So...so there is something bigger at work here. Melira tries not to let the revelation show on her face. Someone asked him to do this, someone he doesn't trust, who he fears. It's hard to imagine Rhen being afraid of anyone after the confidence he just displayed with a sword tip pressed to his ear. And whoever this person is wants to keep their involvement a secret. They could be connected to the book, too. A hint of sadness creeps across her face. If all this is true, then how will I be safe while Rhen lives?
Melira wonders again whether she can trust Bez. If she's going to ask Rehn about the prophecy, the book, the torn pages, Rhen will find out about them too. He's just interested in finding this Vex. "I have no idea how we make you seem dead. Except with a sword." She takes a few steps back and motions at Bez to follow her.
Assuming he does, she confers with him quietly, so that Rhen can't hear. "Listen Bez, I have my own task to complete, one which may be of dire importance. This Vex of yours, no idea who he is, but I'll help you find him, even if it means crossing Rhen's brother. You're wounded already, and if not for me you might be dead right now. You could use the help"
"Of course, if not for you things could have gone poorly for me, too. If I help you find this Vex and extricate him from whatever trouble he's in, I want your promise that you help me with my own task. And before I tell you what that is, I need to know one thing." The half elf is a good half foot shorter than Bez, with a slender build. Blood seeps out from a wound on her chest, her hair is matted and torn, and her legs are still the slightest bit unsteady. But there is a calm, hard look in her eyes when she asks, "can we trust one another?"
Akkramar waits.
Fiadh blinked and blushed before she smiled and in Sylvan spoke. ** spoiler omitted **
The big woman blinked and her face grew an even deeper shade of purple as she realized what she had said. The holy parts of Fiadh's job was something she did not receive training. The young woman was an instrument not an evangelical. Still she would've had to know something more of her obligations and duties, but she messed it up before she was cast out.
" Sorry," Faidh says looking at the fishermen." Thank you" She repeated forgetting herself. She doubted few in this realm knew the strange language of the fey or the added nuisance and accent thrown in. Let alone her peoples own ancient tongue that blended Elvish and Giant together.
The fishermen seem to nod eagerly and approvingly at the blessings being performed. They may not speak the language conversationally, but at certain points in the blessing they mouth out the sounds of some of the more familiar important words that must have crept their way across time to hold a place in the religious life of these simple people.
When they are satisfied that the ceremonial tradition has been honored, they eagerly begin eating. One of them sets a bundle of wet leaves containing hot fresh charred salmon steaks before akkramar, and watches expectantly as if hoping he will enjoy it.
One of the men who had been injured touches the location of the wound from time to time, looking at his fingers and marveling that there is no blood present. One gets the feeling distinctly that these people had not experienced much if any of divine healing or skilled medicine.
At a point in the evening, a few of them confer, and one who seems more confident in the common tongue speaks up to address the dwarf and the knight.
”The black ink. You know this? You have seen before?”
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Bez does his best to hide it by narrowing his eyes, but his cat-like pupils expand, then contract* as he considers the possibility of doing what he does in many a slippery situation.
Lie.
That little voice comes to him quite easily; he's made up for it after the fact sometimes, mended fences--after all, family first, then the Crwth, then anyone else, somewhere on the dungheap. But Melira has offered her hand freely, in exchange for helping her with--something. Bez does a quick mental sorting and places her in a higher basket.
"My mother taught me long ago: 'trust, but verify'. So yes, you can trust me, and I can trust you, but let's do check in from time to time. I'd like to know where your task takes you, and I must warn you that whatever my brother has gotten himself into, it may be dire."
He switches his sword to his equally dangerous left hand and offers a handshake. Without looking back at their prisoner, he mutters, "I'm not one for killing in cold blood, if it sets off more people after us--his superior. Depositing him here should be sufficient to wreck their plans for a bit, and it's clear he's not going to tell us much. We'll search him and be on our way."
He inclines his head. "It also occurs to me that if we were to kill him, his superior would simply cause his corpse to speak, and then we'd really be in trouble. I prefer things to be a bit tidier than that."
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While Bez and Melira converse in secret, Rhendlyth let’s out a sigh.
”You spared me when you didn’t have too. I will tell you one thing that may be of use to you. The pages that were torn out, I did it. I gave them to the one who ordered me to kill you. I will tell you his name, and my suspicion. Although necromancy is studied here at the academy and recognized as a school of magic worthy of research under controlled conditions... I believe there is a cult of death at work within the department. I think what you stumbled upon is important to them. I saw the pages, and there was a location described. Something about a desecrated shrine near the village of Grimmsgate. And there is a harbinger they are looking for. A man with fiendish features and attributes on his body. They believe his existence is a sign of the return of the abyssal lords. That is all that I know. I will tell you his name but you must free me so that I may flee.”
Akkramar nods and tastes the fish - ”Well worth all the waitin’ - he chuckles - ”Grilled fish is hard ta beat. Well done lad” - he congratulates the man.
”The black ink. You know this? You have seen before?”
”Can’t say that I have” - the dwarf nods - ”Then again, I was not expecting ta find that monstrosity in tha river. Do ye come here often to fish? Had ever seen it before?”
Akkramar nods and tastes the fish - ”Well worth all the waitin’ - he chuckles - ”Grilled fish is hard ta beat. Well done lad” - he congratulates the man.
”The black ink. You know this? You have seen before?””Can’t say that I have” - the dwarf nods - ”Then again, I was not expecting ta find that monstrosity in tha river. Do ye come here often to fish? Had ever seen it before?”
The men converse amongst themselves. It seems they are deciding what to say, as well as how best to say it. It seems to be just a matter of helping one another out with reminders of words in the common tongue.
After conferring they all look on as one dark haired person among them who has fallen into the roll of spokesperson speaks up.
”Strange fish, not natural. In the rivers and streams. The ink brings visions. Always darkness. Dead walking. Our tales tell it was like this in the time before.”
Melira takes Bez's hand. "Very well. My own errand may be dire as well." She noted that there was something off about Rhen, but didn't say anything. The man was strange and she knew him little. More would be revealed in time.
She hadn't been ready to leave Rhen yet, and listened intently as he volunteered more in answer. He was the one who took the pages. And...a death cult...ahah! The prophecy was right! Or at least, they think it is too. She nearly cheered. How many other students would have been able to decipher the cryptic clues? Most probably would have been discouraged after the first hour. Now here was confirmation that someone else had arrived at the same conclusion, someone else who was probably a real scholar, perhaps even distinguished and recognized for excellence.
But it had been Saen who had done most of the hard academic work. Certainly Melira had been helpful, she had brought him food and helped look up figures and compile tables. She had always been good with numbers. But Saen had been the one with all the brilliant ideas. As usual, Melira felt the sting of having been involved in an important project with someone who was simply smarter than her.
He was a coward. I stood and fought.
"Grimmsgate...where is that? Oh never mind, we can look it up." Melira placed a hand on the hilt of her sword. We'll need packs and rations. Horses would be good, but I doubt we can afford them. Hmmm, a desecrated shrine? Perhaps we could ask a temple for funding.
She stepped closer to Rhen. "I accept your terms: a name for your freedom, but first, what do you know about Balgrish and Vex?"
" I know not of this river creature. It does not seem natural" Faidh says softly her voice musical. She did not look up sorrowful.
"From the times before..?" - Akkramar pondered - "Then I would like to have a better look at it" - he turned to the water - "But it be too risky fer now"
Something in Bez' countenance changes. "He said he had to flee, M'lira, and while his methods of drawing away the undead left something to be desired, we'd best be on our way."
He does his best to keep his tone even, but his body has grown taut as a wire, listening for something, and a frown deepens on his face.
"The name."
She stepped closer to Rhen. "I accept your terms: a name for your freedom, but first, what do you know about Balgrish and Vex?"
The dark elf squirms in his bonds. ”Balgrish is my brother. A duelist. He has nothing to do with this. He has no knowledge of the arcane nor any interest in death cults. He chases fortune. As for Vex? ‘Tis a name I have not heard. Although I will say my time with you has grown rather vexing.”
When Bez demands a name, the dark elf does not withhold it. ”I said I’d tell you and I will. And when I do I trust you will free me from these bonds so I may flee this academy and the dark cabal which I believe has infested the necromancy department. The one who gave me my orders was Ambrose. Now set me free!”
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"Oh yes, you've heard of Vex. Spill words, before you spill guts instead."
Bez' voice shakes with emotion, though, and his threat comes out somewhat choked. Will it be enough?