FairyGM's Way of the Wicked

Game Master Therenger

This reads so much like Asimov's robotic laws!

Has the gear I've bought been provided to me? Or will it arrive eventually?

Yes, you have all of your equipment.

Rayse reads the contract from top to bottom, then from bottom to top and reads it again. He wasn't entirely thrilled with the second loyalty, but the first loyalty trumped it. With luck it wouldn't matter and besides he reflected he was in no position to demur. So without fuss he used the ritual knife to prick his thumb, soaked up a drop of blood with the quill and placed his signature on the probably human or perhaps halfling leather. That at least was a nice touch.

When Treesa mentioned The Darkness Eternal, Rayse nodded "We must prepare ourselves in order to give a proper offering to the Lord of Hell." Glancing at Thorne, Rayse added, "Cardinal, may I assume you have something planned?"

When Treesa mentioned The Darkness Eternal, Rayse nodded "We must prepare ourselves in order to give a proper offering to the Lord of Hell." Glancing at Thorne, Rayse added, "Cardinal, may I assume you have something planned?"

Cardinal Thorn laughs closed-mouth. "I do indeed."

Dargon got up collected the contract reading it thoroughly. Very little in the sense of loopholes, yet there were a few. He nodded and pricked his finger using the quill to dip into his blood and sign it.

what kind of sacrilege is usually expected ?
He voiced.

Rendylyn skims the contract. The Asmodean Monograph devoted hundreds of pages to contract writing, and dozens of lesser scriptures elaborated on the topic. She had no illusions about how much power they were giving Cardinal Thorne. But, as Alichino wrote in The Folio of Infernal Amusements,

You can choose freedom,
But it'll be the last choice you make.

She makes a fist with her left hand, digging her nails into the palm. Cupping her hand around the welling blood to form a makeshift inkpot, she accepts the quill from Cardinal Thorn and signs her name on both copies in an elegant, spiky hand, then pauses to admire them.

"The first pages in a new history of Talingarde!"

She offers the quill to the Kid.

Kid accepts the quill. Truth be known, he hates cutting his fingers and hands. They're his weapons after all - why damage them to make a mark? But this was a special circumstance. He jabbed the palm of his hand and let the blood flow, then made a fist and filled the quill from the drip to then sign the contract. He does not read it first.

"What the hell are we gonna do here for three days?" he asks.

For some reason Treesa finds Kid's question humorous.... "Maybe you could teach Grumblejack to spar with you?"

Cardinal Thorn observes the signings carefully, then accepts the parchments and sets them aside to dry on his desk.

"Tomorrow, young Falconbridge, you journey back to Daveryn alone," the Cardinal replies. "There can only be one Master. Do you understand?"

Kid looks around at the rest of you. He seems a little uncomfortable for the formality of Thorn's approach to him, or for using his real surname.

"You want him eliminated?"

"Yes, by any means," Thorn answers. "Daveryn's criminal powerbase must be consolidated and the Duke executed, but in due course. Once you have completed this task you may rejoin this group, depending on where things stand."

Kid clears his throat. "It's overdue. I'll take care of him."

"I know you will. Now, as to your question, the rest of you may spend the next three days here as you wish. Enjoy the company of one of our servants - you may choose any that you like and they will be yours to do with as it pleases you. You may walk the grounds but do not leave the property. Tiadora will be present as well, though do not attempt to hinder her if she is not open to conversation. In three days she will gather you and the festivities will begin."

You are escorted out of the Cardinal's office and in the large common room the servants are lined up. They are all attractive women and men, and they are dressed casually in thin white linen robes but plenty of charms are obvious. There are more than enough of them to go around and there are even a pair of attractive gnomes in the review.

"If any two of you choose the same paramour I shall cut her in half," says Tiadora with a grin. You can't tell if she's serious.

Treesa stands as Cardinal Thorn addresses the group. She wouldn't be wanting any 'company' for this night, other than Rufus. The ritual would take most of the night, but then they'd be joined and her communion with him would be a direct channel to her Patron. And hopefully she'd learn more.

She glances around the room. "Thank you Cardinal Thorn. I'll retire to my room now to join with my familiar."

She looks to each party member and adds, "I'll see you all in the morning for breakfast?" Her eyes linger a bit longer at Rayse, then move on.

Sense Motive to know if Tiadora is serious: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (18) + 9 = 27

Rendylyn laughs. "Then I shall be the second to choose!"

She catches Tiadora's eyes, then taps her own temple significantly. Tiadora spoke directly to my mind in the prison. Can she do that anytime? Rendylyn first tries to communicate the following to Tiadora telepathically. If there's no sign Tiadora hears her, she steps in and whispers it instead.

"There's a loose end from our flight from Brandenscar. One prisoner, a sour man named Morthos, refused His Eminence's invitation and ran off on his own. Naturally, I didn't tell him anything that might expose this manor, but he knows we had help escaping, and might reveal our conspiracy when captured, or just from stupidity. It would be best if he were silenced permanently. We might even spread the rumor that he was the one behind the Asmodean sacrifice at the prison, so that when he's found dead the search for us might ease."

"Let's say a late breakfast, Treesa. We could all use the sleep, and I've never cared for early mornings in any case."

Rendylyn has one more task to perform before she can sleep. She must draw an Archstar in blood, recite The Rite of Welcoming Darkness, then petition Asmodeus for spells. Ideally, the blood should be from an unwilling servant. She smiles. For once, procuring it would be easy.

"Will you be staying for breakfast, Falconbridge?"

"F$#* off, Red."

Kid takes a dark-haired girl with large breasts up the stairs to his room. You don't see Kid for the rest of the night, but you hear them all night.

"Manners cost nothing, Falconbridge. Rudeness, however..." As soon as Kid picks his servant. Rendylyn points at her too. "I'll have that one, please, Tiadora. Preferably the top half." She laughs. What a merry game we're playing!

She turns to Treesa. "His Eminence told each of us, 'Enjoy the company of one of our servants.' You need not do anything you feel improper, but you'd best pick at least one. I imagine I'll pick more myself, but I promise not to choose any you do."

Treesa glances around at the various servants.

"None of them appear to be Magi. The ritual I need to perform is basically 8 hours of communing through my familiar, linking it to my soul."

"I suppose I could pick one of the pretty ones and tell him to stand in the corner and pleasure himself. But he'd be raw by the time I might want to play with him...."

She lowers her voice, not to a whisper, but enough. ?? "Besides. None of the servants is half as good looking as Rayse. Who wants a rack of ribs when there's filet mignon right there?"

Then she smiles over to Rayse. "Will you be up for breakfast Rayse? I prefer an early bite sometimes, and a cup of a stimulating beverage. And we could, talk a little?"

Rayse viewed the servants with a professional eye, naturally they were attractive but he preferred dangerous women. Speaking to one of the servants Rayse said, "I might be in the mood to play later, but for now I will have some wine. Fetch a bottle of the oldest and darkest red you have and one glass."

Just then Treesa left with a lingering gaze which he returned with a faint smile. Turning to the servant he added, "Make that two glasses..."

Nodding to the others, he then wandered off after her.

Tiadora's eyes narrow on Rendylyn, but then she glances away, as if considering something. She leaves without a word as soon as the discourse becomes juvenile, which is immediately.

Dargon leaves the room and glances at the slaves. He shakes his head. Im getting over a heart ache. Ill pass of course. However if one of you can find me a bottle of cognac, Ill be most pleased.

Sense Motive on Tiadora: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (15) + 9 = 24

Vormog carefully rolls up and stashes his copy of the contract. He makes note of Cardinal Thorn's efficiency and directness. Vormog may not have the same qualities as a cardinal, but he does admire a leader that acts like their post.

Leaving the room, he sees the lined up servants. At first he thinks to himself "There's nothing for me here. I love Regina, and I'll meet her in Asmodeus' palace when I die." Even without saying these words, he realizes how stupid he sounds. When he dies, he will have an eternity of servitude and will not have opportunities to meet anyone. In fact, the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes he must act more like Thorn. He must take advantage of any situation that he can. Right now, there's no point in denying himself pleasure.

He says more to himself than anyone else "What do you know, this isn't as messy as a temple to Calistria or Nocticula. This is the correct way to release tension." Thinking of all he's endured the past few days, he chooses a young woman that seems phisically strong and directs her to his room. He tells the others "Until tomorrow."

Rendylyn nods as Vormog collects the group's sole copy of the contract. "Later we shall discuss how to keep that secure as we travel."

Before retiring, she chooses two servants by their hands, looking for the ones whose callouses show they have done the most domestic work. She draws only a rivulet of blood from one to draw her Archstar, not wanting to injure her in any lasting way. Around midnight, she conducts The Rite of Welcoming Darkness with a light heart, and is pleased to find Asmodeus grants her more spells than before.

She has the servants lay down to sleep by the door and window of her room, so that none may enter unnoticed as she slumbers.

Treesa and Rayse, not trying to rush you. Great rp!

Night passes. When you wake, your servants are already busy conducting their various duties, preparing your rooms with warm water in the basins and clean clothing appropriate for a day of leisure. The windows are opened to the sweet morning breeze of late spring. The overall impression is one of wealth and luxury - the benefits of serving your infernal lord. One might wonder if the senior clergy of Mitra have it so good; if they do, they surely don't deserve it.

Only a day ago you were doomed to die or a life of hard labor. Now you're living like kings! It is surreal, and of course there's a job to do, but for now, you may relax and enjoy yourselves.

The table is set in the common room and a breakfast of soft breads, butter, cheese, honey, imported fruit jams, and soft-boiled eggs is presented. There's also fresh milk and tea.

For anyone arriving to breakfast early, you'll find Kid already at the table, stuffing himself.

Some time around noon....
Treesa and Rufus and Rayse? come out to the common room looking for some food. Rufus looks more alert that before, with a spark of intelligence in his eyes that wasn't there before.

Around noon, Rayse followed Treesa and Rufus to the common room. Rayse announced to everyone there, "It appears I've developed quite an appetite, could get used to this. Of course we will soon have to earn our keep."

Once they've started eating Treesa speaks up. "My Patron has allowed me a new hex. Instead of targeting our opponent's mind to make them weaker I will shroud you with a field of luck, bending an opponent's attacks. It only works against physical attacks, but it will make many of them completely miss. I can only target one of you at a time but I can keep the hex active with Cackle and add the power to another, and another. If stealth isn't needed I could cover each of you with it before entering an area. I can't use it on myself, but I can apply it to Rufus."

As you gather to eat, several hours apart, you occasionally see Tiadora. She has a habit of making herself scarce, but Kid at least tries to smooth talk her, has a rough go of it, and gets the impression this woman could flay him alive with her pinky finger. Then the young man's eyes go wide. Nothing is said, at least nothing anyone else can hear, but quickly afterward Kid finishes his milk and wipes his face, steps away from the table and returns to his room. By the sound of it he enjoys one more round with the slave girl, and before Treesa and Rayse arrive at the scene he has gathered his few possessions and hastily departs the manor.

In her dreams, Rendylyn wears a judge's robe and wig, and wields a flaming gavel. A long line of weeping people await her attention. When they are dragged forward by clawed hands, each and every one of them is shocked to see her. Her laughter roars like the heart of an inferno. The gavel crashes again and again. "Guilty! Guilty!"

She wakes, washes, has the servants dress her and fix her hair, and is out of her room before everyone is at breakfast. She secretly casts a newly learned divination that reveals who is and is not spellbound, then investigates the grounds, making sure all the servants are and all her associates are not.

A second divination reveals who in the house claims Asmodeus as master. She can guess ahead of time what the results will be--simply pretending to be Asmodean is as good as being a true devotee, as far as this spell goes--but she casts it anyway, for sheer joy. She'd used it many times to try to find other Asmodeans in Daveryn, always to no avail.

Rendylyn uses Detect Charm and Detect the Faithful on everyone in the mansion she can.

"So is this the same patron, Treesa, or a new one?" The gangly priestess spreads butter and dark currant jam thickly on her bread. "I don't really understand the relationship. It's not like worship, is it?"

Rendylyn has never met another living Asmodean before, and is eager to learn how Vormog and Rayse learned about the faith. "I discovered hidden, abandoned Asmodean catacombs beneath the city, where the Asmodeans of old went to learn and be tested. Darkness was my only tutor, bloodstained altars my schoolbooks."

Vormog wakes early yet well rested. He is glad to see the servant he picked to join him has left him to sleep by himself as he requested. He walks out of the room and sees the rich environment and servitude. With his humble upbringing, he is not used to this, but it is something he always wanted. He smiles, seeing his choice of god has paid off.

For a moment, the inquisitor considers whether or not he should arm himself for the day. Although there seems to be a safe place, it is a bad idea to be caught off-guard. He has trained so much to be strong and able to fight, to be left unarmed in a bad situation. He goes back to his room and fully arms himself, even bringing his longspear.

He joins the others for breakfast and takes a plain slice of bread with butter. Before he starts eating, however, he realizes that he is entitled to more, so he cuts himself a slice of ham and cheese on top of it.

He hears Treesa talk about her new hex. He doesn't really understand what it means, but figures it will be useful. He says "I can't wait to see your power in action. It sounds thrilling. I for one, can channel Asmodeus' power for one fight in a day. It one aspect of my fighting, but I can share it with magic. So, if we fight close together, I can spread my boon."

As Rendylyn asks him about his faith, he answers "I've been an Asmodean all my life. My parents followed the Prince of Hell since before the Mitran coup. I was very small when the paladins came and cowardly cut down our brothers and sisters, but I saw it. Few survived, and those of us who did got scattered. It took my entire life to find some fellow followers, but I had a thing going before my... well, you know, you've been there too. But I had a purpose then, and I have one now. Funnily enough, as hard as I tried to gain Asmodeus' power through clergy, I never manifested it. Only now can I channel it, but it's different, it comes naturally, without having to perform rituals. I... find it admirable that you've been able to do it." Vormog manages to catch himself before admitting to being jealous of Rendylyn's clerical powers.

As the day goes by, Vormog does an effort to catch each of the group in conversation. He makes no effort to do so in a one-to-one setting, but he doesn't try to prevent it either.

@Treesa

He asks Treesa "Can you tell me more of your power and how it relates to your dog? Roofus, you call him, yes? It sounds fascinating."

@Rayse

He comments with Rayse "I can see you're well built and powerful. I believe we can make a good team in combat. If you like, we can train together to combine efforts and be more effective in our mission. Not only is it better for survival, but it's more likely we'll be successful in whatever Cardinal Thron has in store for us."

Setting up for the Teamwork inquisitor class feature.

@Dargon

He approaches Dargon "I don't know much about you. We should know each other if we're to rely on each other for survival. Can you tell me anything about you?"

@Kid

He tells Kid "Wait, we should talk.", but he just leaves without replying.

Dargon dresses similarly every day. He is very predictable. Black silk shirt, Black linen pants, Belt, boots, the belt has a rapier, a dagger a belt pouch and a toolkit.

He comes down to the dining room, pours a cup of tea and takes some bread and cheese.

Hed slept better than he had in ages. When asked to share things about his past. He smiled at Vormog.

Sure. why not. I was the only son born to Cristoph and Celia a'Laek. I have three older sisters. Lara, Dolores, and Gracie. all are perfect Mitrans, all are blessed with grace, Wit, looks. They are perfect. All exemplifying the goodness of Mitra. My Father is a landed noble...which is to say he owns land and has a large ranch. Not rich by any means. But well enough to do that we lacked for nothing. It really was the perfect life for them until I was born.

taking a sip of tea he continued. I am considered unruly by them. Bored with their perfection. my mind is eager to learn all there is in life. as you can see, I am far from perfection and not a good-looking man. I am of slight frame and thin face with stringy hair. my musculuture is wiry instead of sound. I fumble with words where the rest are well spoken. My sisters always made fun of me. They said it was out of love. Laugh. I didn't believe it a bit. Their jokes cut me . Id catch my mother's pitying glance all the time. I didn't want her sympathy. I wanted to be better.

I took to sneaking out to run the streets after dark, but that usually found me beat up by the toughs in town. Many times my mother would clean my wounds and apply ointment to bruises I got cause I was a failure. Father always looked at me like I lacked in the manly arts.

The Lake's as they are called by the church attended every service. And we're attentive...except me, who had a penchant towards sleeping through sermons, if I was caught, I was awoke by an elbow in the ribs.

They are the perfect family...except for me

I dont miss their stifling pretending. Im the black sheep and well liking it

Vormog listens to Dargon recounting of his life's story. He does feel sorry for him. Not for his lack of musculature or mental focus, but for being disregarded by his family. Vormog's mother was strict, vicious and unrelenting, but he knows he would have never become the man he is without her efforts.

He says "However you feel about your family, one way or another, it built you as you are. And the man you are brought you here today, at the dawn of a new order. If you ever need your help... thanking them, I'll make sure to be there and support you."

Treesa had been surprised when she saw the available clothing. She was rather small for an adult woman, but there were even a few comfortable cotton dresses. The one she selected was a light blue pastel to accentuate her eyes. She left her long black hair down but had brushed all of the tangles out of it. The night's activities, and bath, had made her feel better than she had felt in years.

Treesa considered Rendylyn's question about her patron. "The patron is a different one, but the powers I'm granted are the same. I haven't thought much on the subject." She pauses, obviously in thought now. "My link with my patron isn't like your worship exactly. As I understand it, you pray to The God, asking for the divine power that you will need for today. I commune through my familiar and the familiar is the conduit to my patron. She, I got the distinct impression that my patron is female this time, reads my mind and determines what powers I should have access to. The power to use my hexes is.... pushed, directly in to me. The spells are pushed to my familiar. I am able to select which spells my familiar has daily. It's not such a wide variety as what you have to select from, but it suits my needs."

When Vormog approaches her Treesa is happy to explain. "A witch's familiar is kind of like a wizard's spellbook in that his mind holds the spells that my patron has allowed me. There are ways to gain additional spells, but none that are available now. When they caught me they destroyed my previous familiar. I had only the spells that I had prepared before I was caught, and my hexes. I'm fairly certain that they thought they'd taken my magic. Foolish mistake, but I don't think there are any Mitran witches."

"I was alone before so the hexes I had were for weakening my opponents. The evil eye allows me to push fear into a mind and weaken the resolve. I can focus on making the attacks weaker, or the defenses, the ability to resist magic, and so on. Oh, and my patron gave me the ability to speak with and understand animals. It is a useful power, but their minds are pretty simple. And it doesn't give me any ability to make them obey me. My new hex shows my patron's understanding of how my life is changing. It is more for protecting my.... friends, or my team. We will see how effective it is when we face enemies."

Kid almost leaves without saying anything to anyone, and when Vormog tries to stop him to talk, he brushes past and heads out through the main door. But then turns and goes back in and catches the inquisitor's attention.

"Hey," he starts, then realizes he doesn't know what to say, so he simply ends it with, "Good luck."

What the group doesn't know is that Kid's been instructed to take Grumblejack with him. He finds the ogre outside the stables looking pensive.

"Hey Jack, it's just me and you for the next bit. Ready to get out of this dump?"

The ogre grunts a response. A servant leads a horse out for Kid and he leaps onto the saddle, handling it with aristocratic ease. Some skills are not forgotten.

The two of them head out with the morning sun at their backs and a warm breeze on their faces. It felt like it was going to be a hot summer in Talingarde.

Hot as Hell.

"Yes, Asmodeus is a God of magic, and teaches many spells. I have an affinity for His hellfire." She pauses. "I can also channel the raw power of the God-Fiend to deal slow death to all living creatures near me, a power difficult to use in battle without hurting my allies." She smiles. "Still, I wouldn't have the power if I wasn't supposed to use it sometimes."

"My role as a Priest of Asmodeus has become more complicated, now that I've met other Asmodeans. Before, I had only to look after myself. Now I have an obligation to watch, guide, and support you...to fan the flames of your ambitions, and to hold you to the Prince of Hell's laws."

"Which of you would join the Church of the Archfiend? It is not a privilege handed out lightly. All must be made to serve the Dark Prince's will; few have the ambition and will to worship him. When we restore Talingarde to its proper path, the peasants and rabble will be permitted to worship as they choose, but true power will belong to Hell's devout."

Vormog hears Treesa's words and doesn't understand her fully. At first, he worries she doesn't worship Asmodeus directly, but he saw her sign the contract. This makes him feel more at ease. He doesn't know what to say to her, only asks "How comfortable are you being part of a forming cult to Asmodeus?"

When Rendylyn asked where Rayse's faith came from he told her, "Well I guess you could say father was a Devil's Advocate. You see he was a lawyer, well respected by the sheep. In secret he and mother were training me up for... Well I suppose this. Anyway Asmodeus is the only faith that's ever meant anything to me. You know what the funny thing is though, my parents had me attend one of those awful Mythrian youth camps on the weekends. The sort of place where the clergy go talent spotting for future Paladin candidates. I was their little a wolf in sheep's clothing, the fools never knew what was really in my heart. When I got arrested I was convinced I'd be burnt at the stake but they didn't know! I couldn't believe it."

Later when Vormog suggested training, Rayse agreed saying, "I'd appreciate a sparring partner, it's been too long since I've had a proper work out. I must warn you I like to go at it hard, probably best if we use training blunts so we don't damage each other too much."

"Which of you would join the Church of the Archfiend?"

"Count me in." drawled Rayse.

Treesa notices the expression on Vormog's face when he asks his question. Her brow furrows for a moment but she nods. "I know only a little about the Gods. That is mainly religion based, but also taught with history, the planes, and for Gods devoted to magic, arcana."

"To my point of view I think Asmodeus is misunderstood by the current leaders. He is about order and the proper use of power. I'm in favor of that. As for forming a cult? I don't think bringing back the proper worship of The God to be the same as forming a cult."

"Which of you would join the Church of the Archfiend?"

Treesa replies with all seriousness in her voice, "Isn't that part of the contract? Of course count me in. I plan to discuss that with my Patron in the morning. And maybe this time I'll get a name."

"The contract names Asmodeus as our patron and god, but does not say we may have no other patron or god. We are bound to further His worship and glory. If you personally can worship Him, you should--not everyone is fit for His worship, though. I believe furthering his worship means building the best Church possible, not allowing everyone to worship Him."

Anyone want to ask Tiadora anything?

Treesa is interested in either alchemical supplies, or an alchemist's lab if there is one here? She wants some Calistria's kindness.

or Night tea

"Tiadora, we were told not to leave the grounds. May we send the servants to buy and sell for us? Our sacks of prison-treasure could be put to better use."

Treesa goes with Vormog and Rayse to watch the pair sparring. She uses her new hex on both men, quietly cackling to keep it active, just to show the effect. Roll to hit twice and use the lower roll. She notices that Vormog is powerfully muscled like Rayse, but he isn't as attractive. But what was it about Rayse?

She considers other men that she'd known. There had been some that approached her that were physically powerful. Those had been almost instant rejections, mainly because of attitude. They had seen her lack of physical stature and apparently thought.... Never mind. She remembers a 'boy' from her teenage years. He had been a budding young sorcerer. Almost, pretty? She had been interested in him more for how his magic worked. Things had been OK. He wasn't actually stupid. But when that relationship had advanced to physical? That had been the end of it. That was also when she had discovered Calistria's kindness. When she missed her first monthly.... She thought the worst and had found out about night tea, but hadn't been able to get any. She hadn't told her parents. She was already ruining their lives, this would have just.... Well, it would have gotten her sent away. But the next month cleared her worries about that.

She smiled at that thought. That might have been alright. She'd left on her own anyway, just a couple of years later. Maybe they'd explained her departure as that they'd sent her away?

She notices Rufus watching the sparring. "Don't worry Rufus. This is just practice. They're actually friends."

She turns to a nearby servant. "Bring a pitcher of water and two glasses, and a tray with small dinner rolls. The men will want carbs after the workout."

"carbs" ;P

Tiadora looks at the group's sack of pitiful plundered prison weapons with modest amusement. "These weapons can be exchanged in the armory."

She then turns to Treesa and laughs out loud. "Yes of course, dearest." Without word, a servant steps forward to escort the witch to the manor's small laboratory. The inventory of ingredients is not unlimited, but the items you seek are available, perhaps for use by the slaves.

Tiadora announces at the lunch table, as it were: "The Cardinal has deemed you all worthy of investment. You may peruse the armory if you wish, and although the equipment therein is not unlimited, you each may take as your own up to two-hundred gold pieces worth."

Consider this an opportunity to upgrade your equipment how ever you see fit. No gp will trade hands.

Before sparring with Vormog, Rayse performs a series of warm up exercises. At first it looked like he was doing a sort of slow motion dance with lots of circular movement and occasional lunges, this perfectly exhibited the play of his back muscles. But then he did it again faster, and faster still, what had initially looked like a slow dance turned into a vicious looking shadow boxing combat.

When he was ready and Vormog had finished any of his own preparations, Rayce handed him a bundle of blunt practice weapons saying, "I found these in the armory."

Rayse accepted Tressas's hex after she described what it did saying, "That sounds very useful, is there any limit on how often you can do this?"

The sparring felt a bit odd with the magic turning aside blows that by all rights should have landed but Rayse considered this to be advantage in a way, to land something your form had to be perfect - and that was something he always aimed for. Of course to the uninitiated the bouts looked vicious with the practice blunts clanging together and both of them had a set of bruises by the end. Eventually Rayse was tired out and sore so he said, "I think that's enough for now. Been too long since I had a proper work out, let's do this again soon." Noting the food Rayse wolfed down several rolls after taking a long swig of water. He smiled his thanks to Tressa and wandered over to chat.

Treesa smiles at the question. The hex was new to her as well, but her patron had explained it. "It isn't limited in that manner. But if I can't use the cackle to extend it, the hex will end just seconds later. And if you are more than thirty feet from me the magic of the cackle hex won't reach you. Basically, useful but limited like most hexes. I have to stay closer to the battle than most magi like. But I try to stay behind you so I don't get hurt."

When Rayse leaves to chat Treesa heads down to the lab and the armory. She didn't think she needed any other weapons. But there were a couple other things.

Later she returns to her room and looks for the servant. She gives him specific orders, for later. Then picks out a different dress. Smiling at the selection available, better than she'd ever had, she picks out a dark red velour and tan flat shoes. She ignores all of the high heel things. She was short and had never tried to pretend otherwise!

Finally she wanders the building. Were there any other people here, non-servants? Maybe others that had been rescued from the Mitran menace!?!

Vormog answers Rendylyn "I've served him all my life. Now I can continue doing so, there's nothing more fitting."

Later, he tells Treesa "I can see you're pragmatic. That is good. I'm glad you're on our side." He has started to refer to himself and the others in the plural. To his surprise he begins to feel confident. The contract sure helped things.

His sparring session with Rayse left him tired and gasping for air. He says "I won't pretend I got the better of you today. I sure hope you'll teach me a thing or two in the future." However, he points to both himself and Rayse and says "You know, I started to read some of your movements. Not that I could counter them, but I think I'm starting to understand how I could take advantage of them when we're fighting someone else. As in a following your lead kind of thing."

At the table, Rendylyn sips wine and eats sparingly. She nudges Posh, and says, "You seem familiar with the nobility...do you recognize the servants' livery?"

Knowledge (nobility): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (20) + 8 = 28

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Posh unrolls the scroll and reads the Compact aloud in a low, deliberate tone, his mismatched brows twitching with each passing clause.

"Ah... now this is a document with some weight to it. Legal teeth. Fiendish symmetry. And... a certain flair."

He nods approvingly, then reaches into his belt pouch and produces a slim brass-capped pen and a squat glass inkwell. He pauses.

"But of course..." he murmurs, slipping a thin knife from behind his belt and pricking his finger with practiced ease. A bead of crimson wells up. With a theatrical flourish, he lets it drip into the inkwell until the liquid swirls a deep carmine.

"Ink of intention, by way of hemoglobin. Let it never be said I forged my own fate in anything but the most appropriate medium."

He dips the pen, tests it with a flick, and then signs his name in elegant, looping script below the others:

Poshment Stemtimple, Gnomographer Extraordinaire

The blood-red ink glistens wetly on the parchment as he recaps the pen and licks the remaining blood from his fingertip.

"Well then. One contract with Hell, properly executed. Let us be about the business of sin and ambition, shall we?"

Posh tugs at the edge of his scholar’s sleeve as he watches the others file from the Cardinal’s study, his expression unreadable for once. Only after the door closes behind them does he murmur, "‘One Master only,’ he says. Hmm. A tidy philosophy, if you like your chains polished."

He folds his arms behind his back and wanders slowly toward the offered array of servants, his bootheels clicking thoughtfully upon the stone.

"Ah, the delicacies of temptation arranged like a painter’s palette," he says with a flourish of one hand. "But as much as I appreciate symmetry, I confess myself less drawn to pursuits of the flesh at present." He peers at the pair of gnome women with a squint.

"Pardon me, ladies. Might either of you possess domestic talents? Copying, cataloging, a hand for script or even a steady mind for historical treatises or cartography? I do not wish to insult your evident charms, but if your skills lie purely in carnal artistry, I must demur."

He turns back toward the line with a sigh and a smile tinged with mischief.

"If not, I wonder—do any of the humans present have talents that extend beyond the bedsheets? I require assistance in pursuing study. Specifically, I seek to better understand my new loyalties—First and Second both. The lore of Asmodeus is vast, and Cardinal Thorn’s legend, I suspect, is just as layered. Scribes, scholars, or clever conversationalists need only apply."

He claps his hands softly.

"If you have ink, parchment, a thirst for knowledge, and do not snore, you may just win yourself a half week’s engagement with Poshment Stemtimple, Gnomographer, and newfound adherent to Asmodeus’ philosophies."

Rendylyn explores the manse's armory with interest, finding equipment that suits her better than the guards' spoils, but also taking time to explore the room itself--its highest shelves, its empty corners. Old houses often hide secrets, she's learned, and she doubts His Eminence chose this one at random.

Having days to amuse herself, she investigates every room of the house--basement to attic, everywhere she is permitted to go--from top to bottom. She pries into the private lives of the servants, finding where they came from and how they came here. Above all, she observes Tiadora and Cardinal Thorn, not daring to pry but alert to any clue.

Rendylyn takes 20 on Perception to search the house, starting with the armory, then working her way first down, then up.

Later, he tells Treesa "I can see you're pragmatic. That is good. I'm glad you're on our side."

Treesa's smile at this statement is, natural. She nods her head, bobbing a couple of times. "Yes. I've learned over the years that sometimes I over analyze things. Sometimes I 'think too much' when I should just accept what my 'gut', or my heart tells me." You notice that her eyes aren't really focused now, like she's ignoring everything but what she's saying. "But this time, what I think and what I feel are the same. I.... We, were all treated unjustly by a system that isn't what it proclaims to be. And if we can do something to fix that system, even crush it and replace it, then that is what we should do. I'm all in!" She looks at you again, and this time her eyes are focused and the smile covers her entire face.

Rayse nodded to Vormog, "If we learn to work as a team, we can take down some seriously tough foes together. Going to take a bit of practice, but I can already see its going to work - just need to know each other's style so we can anticipate what what each of us will do. And yea I'm sure you'll be able to teach me a trick or three."