The creature swings its fists at Jordanna. It manages to hit her once, scattering her thoughts!
As Jordanna reels, her bare belly bulges and writhes. The tattoo inscribed upon it flares as her demonic familiar emerges, snarling with anger. It quickly moves around to flank and harry the eye-monster as the changeling slashes at it, landing a critical hit!
Maximus steps backwards and upwards into the air as he unleashes his telekinesis and leaves the floor in a way that feels more natural than walking these days.
As he does so he reaches out to pinion the creature's limbs with magic.
Your spell takes hold, paralyzing the monster for a few vital moments!
"Destroy it!" Maximus commands, waiting to see if his aunt can do so with enough speed.
Jordanna snaps and tears chunks of flesh and eyeballs from the monsters body! It is badly wounded but still on its feet.
Maximus draws in a deep breath and blasts the creature with a barrage of force missiles.
The magic missiles slam into the monster, and it teeters before collapsing, taking out a few shelves with the force of its fall!
Tristel creeps out from her hiding spot and gapes at the destruction. "Oh, goodness! That thing said the Gray Gardeners sent it... If they're trying to silence me, then I must be on to something! I'd better make myself scarce. But you should definitely look into the final blade in Grange Market!"
"Indeed." Maximus says calmly. "Make haste, and here, take this for your trouble." He hands over a pouch of gold and collects the map in question. "Good luck. Should you find yourself in Cheliax within the year come to Egorian and seek out Prince Maximus, I would have use for someone with your sharp mind."
With that he proceeds calmly from the shop, should the Gardeners demand an explanation for his actions then that will be a pleasantly public occasion for a secretive order. In other words, a battle on his turf.
"Shall we Auntie?" He asks casually, bending his way towards Grange Market.
The area around the Grange Market is likely to interest visitors to Litran the most, as this neighborhood contains not only the best shops in Litran but also the best inns. Litran’s ever-present class divide is evident here on a physical scale: poorer vendors must set up temporary stalls of cloth or canvas in the square or streets, while well-to-do shops, made of brick or stone, heavily ornament their permanent storefronts.
You don’t immediately see a final blade, but the only place that might fit one is a gaily painted tent near the market’s center. At a glance, this circus clearly isn’t operational, though, and a heavy, moustached barker is moving people away while directing several gnome roustabouts to get to work. Watching for a few minutes, though, you realize that the roustabouts aren’t actually doing anything but wasting time, and the barker doesn’t seem to mind.
Maximus spends some time wandering about the square, apparently browsing but in reality casing the tent and trying to come to a conclusion as to its structural integrity.
Once he has gathered as much information as he can he conceals himself to avoid making the whole situation too obvious and reaches out with telekinesis to uproot tent pegs, unravel ropes and hopefully collapse the tent, and the facade being played out, in short order.
The tent begins to buckle and collapse thanks to your sabotage. The moustached barker cries out in alarm and shouts for the gnomes to help. They scurry about to try to fix the damage, but with the tent partially dismantled, you can see a canvas tarp covering a 15-foot-high shape next to the main tent pole. It's rather obvious that a guillotine is concealed beneath the tarp.
With a final flourish Maximus removes the canvas tarp and then makes his leisurely way away from the scene. People know now - that's something. If only it was easier to find a Gardener who might talk...
Jordanna follows along beside you. ”So we know the Gardeners are up to something big. What’s our next step? The elf?”
"I think so." Maximus replies. "Since she is the only person who might actually be what we're looking for. Let us rest now and visit her tonight."
Because we don't want witnesses. is one of those things aunt and nephew don't need to state to each other.
You wait until late in the evening before traveling to the farmer's collective. Despite the late hour, there is still light coming through the windows.
The main room of the barn-like meeting hall has space for several dozen people, but the stacks of chairs against the walls show that there haven’t been any recent meetings. An elf dressed in neat and functional clothing is signing several papers at a desk at the front of the room, working by candlelight.
"Stay out of sight." Maximus commands. "I'll see if I can convince her to talk. Although I don't expect it."
He knocks politely and enters the room. "Miss Calbieste? I was hoping to speak to you." He waits by the door until he is certain that Jordanna has had time to slip in. "You see, it's very hard to find people in the know these days, people who have their fingers on the pulse. From what I've gathered you are such a person. So perhaps we could talk, as mutually interested parties... the future of Galt is so precarious these days. Those of us who are able are practically required to do something about it"
Zintaya Calbieste looks up sharply at you as you approach. ”Yes? How can I help you?” she asks, her manner pleasant but distant.
She begins to scowl as you talk, but she seems distracted by something. Her head is cocked slightly, like she’s listening to something just at the edge of hearing.
”I’m sorry, but I am very busy right now. I do not have time to talk about such things,” she says sternly. ”There is a ton of paperwork to finish before the Harvest Jubilee. So... some other time. Go on, then. Leave.”
You don't hear anything unusual. However, watching Zintaya, you notice that she casts occasional glances at a spot on the floor where the floorboards have been recently replaced...
"Redecorating?" Maximus asks casually, ignoring Zintaya's words as he strolls towards the new floorboards. "I hear the woodworm around here can be quite brutal."
"No, it's..." Zintaya begins as you stand by the floorboards. Her hands tremble and her eyes dart between you and the floor. After a few moments, she lets out a strangled sob and throws down her pen. "Yes! The body is beneath the floor! I’ve been so steeped in lies and murder for so long, one more death seemed so minor. But the corpse calls to me—I can hear the beating of his heart like an accusation, again and again and again!"
"I can help, but you will have to tell me what happened." Maximus says calmly. "Whose body? Why did he have to die?"
Zintaya takes a few deep breaths to try to compose herself. "I am a Gray Gardener. I have been one of their highest-ranked assassins for more than three decades. But I recently caught wind of some catastrophe the organization is planning that will surrender, expose, or otherwise sacrifice the lower ranks of the Gray Gardeners. I was given an invitation to deliver to the mayor of Tregan, but I never left Litran, wracked over indecision about the invitation and whether it connects to the rumors of the purge of my friends.
"The Gray Gardeners don’t take failure to follow orders lightly. The director generals sent another assassin to determine my intentions. He cornered me, and I killed him, concealing the body beneath the floorboards! If I simply disappeared, much of the work I did for the farmers here in Litran would be swiftly undone. I owe them more than that... Wait, wait! Do you hear that?"
A rumbling sound begins from beneath the floorboards. The rumbling isn’t localized to the area where Zintaya hid the corpse, however. It shakes the entire meeting hall! A moment later, a swarm of stony aberrations suddenly bursts up through the floorboards, a living landslide of fanged geodes bearing down on you and Zintaya!
Rocks, even rocks with teeth, are something Maximus knows how to deal with. With a swift gesture he erects a wall of pure telekinetic power between Zintaya, himself and the rocks. Jordanna will manage either way.
Jordanna snarls and activates the winged rune on her loincloth. Brilliant wings solidify behind her back and she lifts off the ground, out of the swarm’s reach!
The clacking cobblestones begin to pound the ground over and over again. The whole building begins to shake as the earth quakes!
Fortunately it does not collapse. Fissure begin to open up in the ground, but you are safe from falling within your cage. ”They’re here for me!” Zintaya wails.
Jordanna quickly brews up a trio of alchemists fire flasks, hurling them at the swarm to burn the aberrations!
"Get down!" Maximus snaps before unleashing a pulse of telekinetic power entwined with spiritual force.
Your blast of force sends the strange cobble mites careening across the room! Several of them crumble and burst, and the survivors decide discretion is the better part of valor. They burrow back down into the ground as they flee!
Zintaya draws a few shaky breaths. ”You saved my life. You have my eternal gratitude. It is clear I cannot stay here any longer. I must sever my ties with Galt and seek asylum in Kyonin. Please, whatever the Gray Gardeners intend to do at their masque, you must stop them! I will not see so many people suffer for their ambitions.”
"Be specific." Max says firmly, having no intention of letting the woman go until he knows more. "Before you leave you are going to tell me everything. I will not be able to act without sufficient information."
Zintaya doesn’t know much about the mysterious leaders of the Gray Gardeners or what they are planning. She does tell you that there are crypts beneath the Gray Monastery, but the Gray Gardeners don’t bury their dead there. They instead use the sprawling crypts as torture rooms, summoning chambers, and places to speak with all manner of extraplanar creatures that support their grim work. Tunneling into the crypts is impossible, as they’re warded by ancient magic; the only way into them is through the monastery.
The final blade known as Silent Lenore has been brought into the Gray Gardeners’ monastery as the centerpiece for the upcoming masque. This blade took the life of Apalma Drannoch, mother of the current chairwoman of Galt’s Revolutionary Council. Apalma’s soul still lingers inside it and might feel a connection to anyone wearing a red scarf, as her daughter, Camilia, is never seen without one.
She also tells you that an elderly, one-eyed human was also seeking information about the Gray Gardeners, and he asked that anyone with further knowledge should seek him out at the old shrine to Pharasma in town.
Maximus knows, from personal experience, that nothing is impossible but 'so difficult as to not be worthwhile' is relatively easy to accomplish. The suggestion of a red scarf is a good idea and easy enough to incorporate into his outfit so that's helpful and the one-eyed man seems like too obvious a lead, but that isn't necessarily enough to make it useless - even a trap gives a lot of information about the people who set it, if you survive the spring.
Once the woman has told everything she knows Max nods sharply and turns on his heel, drawing on all of the regal experience he has accumulated. Imposing entrances and exits are something of a speciality of his mother. As Infernal Majestrix his 'father' tends to hold herself above such things but, given her lower birth and much higher inclination towards subtlety, Empress Consort Imperia appreciates such things and trained her son accordingly.
"Sleep now." He says to Jordanna once they are far enough away. "Although some precautions are in order. Then tomorrow we will follow up on these leads..."
Starting with the one-eyed man. He decides but does not say, sometimes prudence is saying nothing at all.
The night passes without incident. It seems that your discreet manner of investigation so far has avoided drawing attention from the Gray Gardeners.
Morning comes on the day of the Gray Masque! After breakfast, you head to the abandoned shrine of Pharasma. The Gray Gardeners executed or drove away all the priests in Litran when they arrived more than 70 years ago. The clerics of Pharasma put up the strongest fight, but the Gray Gardeners eventually captured all of them, displayed patently false evidence of sedition, and executed the lot. The shrine to Pharasma has been deemed an unlucky place ever since. Even Pharasma’s faithful in town—such as Keznin Nevarmo—don’t visit the site.
This stone building consists of a blocky central structure and two towers, one of which has collapsed across the top of the building. The old stones sit somewhat askew; flakes of mortar and bits of crushed stone litter the area. As though the building didn’t look sufficiently unsafe on its own, a faded orange ribbon bearing the words “Unsafe! No Entry!” hangs across both the main door facing the street and a small side door.
"If you would." Maximus says, gesturing for his aunt to step forward. Opening doors is more in her skill set than his all in all.
He loiters, keeping an eye out for anyone or anything that might be watching.
This wide room once served as the shrine’s main worship hall. The north wall still bears the faded mural of a spiral-shaped comet 10 feet wide. Openings containing door frames without doors lead to the west and northeast. Stones in both the ceiling and the floor are uneven. Beams supporting the ceiling are splintered from the northwest to the southeast, making it clear the building only barely withstood the tower toppling across its roof. The stones in the floor are less regular in their damage, and some have fallen through to reveal a darkened basement below.
Keeping alert for danger, you quickly notice when two people come into the shrine shortly afer you! They appear to be masked women wrapped in webbed shawls, carrying several spider-like tokens and bearing heavy staves. "You should not be here," one proclaims menacingly.
"Morrignas," Jordanna whispers. "Psychopomps."
"We are here because we wish to right the wrong that was done here." Maximus replies coolly. "The Gardeners perpetrated an outrage against Pharasma's faith. I was told that I could meet a man here who might be able to help arrange for a fitting recompense. My Lord Asmodeus has always respected the Lady of Graves, let us work together in a similar respect, bound by our mutual goals and common methods."
The morrignas study you, their expressions inscrutable behind their masks. After several tense moments, though, they lower their staves. "We have come to find the same man," one says. "His name is Nellibet. We have reason to believe that he is in trouble. Unknown mortal forces in league with horrible beings called sahkils intend to harm him. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
"He was asking about the Grey Gardeners, so logic would suggest that they are the ones in league with the sahkils." Maximus replies, relaxing the spells he had called to mind. "There is to be a great ball a few days hence and I have information that the Gardener's command are planning some sort of... event. It seems that it will bear ill for anyone in attendance and seemingly involves the Final Blades."
A thought occurs and he takes a moment to consider it before speaking. "As psychopomps you are guardians of souls are you not? Surely the Final Blades are a desecration of your divine purpose? Why have they not been destroyed by your fellows long ago?"
"That is beyond our sphere of influence," the other morrigna responds. "Our caste of psychopomp are the bounty hunters and investigators of the Boneyard. Surely, Pharasma is aware of the final blades and has a plan about them, but we are not privy to the Lady's mind. We are, however, authorized to act to protect Nellibet."
She turns to her companion. "Ninolda, consult with the ushers. Explain what this man has told us and ask for guidance." She turns back to you. "I am Isias. I will accompany you as you explore the rest of this shrine. Together, we will ensure the sahkils do not harm Nellibet."
Maximus offers a polite bow and turns to his aunt. "So... can you see anything below?" He looks too, although the darkness is something of a problem.
"Not much from this angle. Let's stick together," Jordanna says.
Searching this room, you see that the large symbol of Pharasma on the north wall has been recently cleaned, though not very well. You also discover a cunningly concealed compartment in the center of the spiral image. Inside is a headband of inspired wisdom and a scroll of heroism (8th level). Isias encourages you to take and use these items.
A small room off the main shrine functions as a makeshift bedroom. A man’s hand protrudes from the mound of blankets on the cot. The hand belongs to the corpse of a middle-aged man with pale hair and a slight build. He wears leather armor over well-tailored clothes with ink stains on the sleeves, like a well-to-do clerk or scribe might wear. He has a dirty eye patch over one eye, but the eye beneath appears ordinary. There isn’t any indication of how he died other than a look of surprise and fear on his face.
"This is not Nellibet," Isias says. "A decoy?"
You descend the stairs into the basement. This wide basement has rough-hewn walls and moldering remains of furniture pushed against one wall. Opposite this jumble, an inhuman creature wearing a wide gown of thorny red flowers is manacled to the wall. Sharp thorns litter the floor throughout the room.
"A sahkil!" Isias says. "A pakalchi."
The sahkil looks up with a grimace. "Please... help..." she says, with slow, labored words. "I have been... imprisoned here... against my will... I... mean you no harm... Release... me..."
Maximus turns to Isias. "Well? Is that likely?"
He's naturally skeptical.
"Doubtful. Sahkils are evil to the core. They are not to be trusted," the morrigna says.
"Oh...? And can you... really trust... her?" the sahkil says with a smirk. "Psychopomps have... no loyalty... to mortals. She'll... betray you... if your... alliance... is no longer... beneficial to her..."
"I trust her word." Maximus points out. "The limitations thereof are obvious to me and I can plan around them. You, on the other hand, I would have no way of predicting."
So he starts beating the creature with telekinesis.
The sahkil screams in protest but can do little to stop you from bludgeoning her to death.
"She was stalling," Jordanna growls. "Likely waiting for reinforcements to come for her."
"My cohort and I will remain here to fend off any more sahkils that might arrive," Isias says.
Searching this room turns up nothing of value, but you head up to the roof of the shrine and discover a sheet of canvas covering a fine spyglass. It’s mounted on a sturdy, collapsible stand and is currently trained upon the entrance to the Gray Monastery.
Beneath the spyglass, between the legs of the supporting frame, lies a short pile of bricks bearing a slim notebook. Its first page declares it belongs to “Nellibet Amberin, Crusader of the Lady of Graves.” The notebook contains several observations of the comings and goings from the monastery, but clearly the observer didn’t care much for noting any names or providing any descriptions of the Gray Gardeners.
Instead, the watcher noted the possible passing of specific nonhuman creatures: “Cloaked figure with a train of flowers—a pakalchi, maybe?” or “Enclosed wagon brought in, large enough to contain a ximtal. Maybe stacked with coffins instead?"
The fine spyglass is particularly elegant and worth 5,500 gp.
There doesn't seem like there's anything else to learn here at the shrine.
Always pleased to find beautiful objects Maximus appropriates the spyglass for himself, since it is of high quality and not something he wants to waste. The mans notes, while interesting, are not hugely useful.
"So the upper reaches of the Gardeners are in league with sakhils." He concludes slowly. "Isias, what can you tell me about a ximtal? Are they more of a threat than the pakalchi or not? And what of their weaknesses? Anything would help."
”Ximtals are among the most powerful of sahkils. Ximtals use subtlety to entrap their prey and often don't directly engage their targets. They use insecurities as a tool and force poor behavior in mortals they set their sights on. Some wander the multiverse seeking to sabotage societal crusades or suppress divergent ideologies.They are weak to holy weapons and other forms of good-aligned damage.”
"Helpful, but alas those things are in short supply." Maximus comments drily. "Still, that may explain the corruption in the Gardeners as a whole. Normally I would speak to the pre-eminent church in the area for help but..." He gives a languid shrug.
"So we are aware of the who, the where and then when. We simply lack the what, and how we might stop it. Can the psychopomps offer any more material aid when the time comes to confront these sakhils?"
"We have our task, assigned to us by the ushers," Isias says. "We are only here to protect Nellibet. Unless the sahkils directly threaten him, we cannot and will not interfere."
"Well then we had best keep looking and try to find him then." Maximus replies, already trying to decide how to convince this Nellibet to come to the ball...
You spend some time trying to find Nellibet, but nobody in Litran seems to have seen him in the past day or so. Perhaps the priest will show up to the Gray Masque tonight on his own...
As the time for the masque approaches, you return to The Oval Mirror to collect your costume. Miona Rallaree flushes and fans herself when she sees you enter. "Bonsoir, Maximus! I have your outfit ready to go in the back room! Shall we try it on to be sure it is to your liking?"