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If we're going to try to all hit the same doll, this is what it would take, mechanically:

1) We choose the black doll.
2) Rendylyn 5' steps to two spaces north of Dargon. Vormog 5' steps next to her and the doll. Posh 5' steps to the square Vormog left. Treesa 5' steps between Posh and Rayce.
3) On their turn, everybody uses their standard action to ready an attack that happens once everyone is adjacent to the doll.

If GMT agrees that Rayse's declared attack counts as readying an attack as in (3), we can try this round. Otherwise, the dolls get another whack each, possibly knocking one or more of us out.

Everyone is on the same page. You can make it happen this round.

The eerie cacophony of snapping joints and scraping limbs fills the chamber—yet above it all rises the lilting defiance of Posh’s song. What begins as a solitary gnome’s tune soon winds its way out of the voices of others. It’s a song too strange to belong here, and yet maybe that’s why it fits.

Though the manakins remain untouched by the melody, the living are not so immune. The oppressive tension lifts slightly. Shoulders square. Breath evens. A rhythm begins, not among the dolls, but among the damned.

Dargon has difficulty finding his mark this time, but Rayse brings his high arcing greatsword down on the doll with a satisfying crunch. It still stands, however, though much of its former structure is now shredded and severed.

Treesa, seizing on the symbolism etched across the constructs, presses her unholy symbol against the fractured rune of one—but her words scatter like leaves in windless air. There is no spark, no recognition. Her instincts may not be wrong, but the method... is not right.

Rendylyn, meanwhile, punctuates the chorus with a shriek of flame. Fire dances across paper and lacquered wood, limbs twitching violently as scorch marks mar its painted facade.

Vormog's shield sweeps down and he lands another blow against the doll he is fighting. Something still feels off, like the chorus is full of soloists. The harmony is still missing.

The manakins continue to flail away, barbed wire and iron fragments battering across the party's defenses.

Red vs Rendylyn: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25 Damage: 1d6 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7 --HIT
Orange vs Rayse: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 71d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11 Damage: 1d6 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6 --MISS
Black vs Vormog: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24 Damage: 1d6 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11 --HIT
Blue vs Dargon: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 91d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23 Damage: 1d6 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9 --MISS

Combat Order: The Party is up!
Orange Doll (-30)
Black Doll (-30)
Blue Doll (-3)
Dargon Lake <-we are here
Rayse
Treesa Lore
Vormog Lough (-11)
Posh Stemtimple
Rendydlyn the Red Waif (-7)
Red Doll (-9)

If Rayse’s attack takes out the doll...

It doesn't. Also, colder...

Thanks for you help with the map, Posh.

Rendylyn's burst of fire misses the furthest doll, which now closes in to attack!

Red vs Rendylyn: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11 Damage: 1d6 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10 --MISS
Orange vs Rayse: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15 Damage: 1d6 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9 --MISS
Black vs Vormog: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14 Damage: 1d6 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10 --MISS
Blue vs Dargon: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15 Damage: 1d6 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7 --MISS

Possibly confused by the team's actions, the dolls flail harmlessly!

Dicebot loves you guys right now

Combat Order: The Party is up!
Orange Doll (-12)
Black Doll (-19)
Blue Doll (-3)
Dargon Lake <-we are here
Rayse
Treesa Lore
Vormog Lough
Posh Stemtimple
Rendydlyn the Red Waif
Red Doll

@Dargon, constructs ignore precision damage, so no sneak attack.

Knowledge (arcana) - identify doll: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (1) + 8 = 9

Vormog's arcane knowledge fails when it comes these dolls.

Treesa and Posh bolster their teammates, while Dargon, Rayse, and Vormog pin the manakins between them for better leverage. These tactics work well enough, and quickly two of the hideous dolls are battered, although despite the heft of the greatsword and morningstar, neither blow seems to have done quite as much damage as you expected. Hacking and bashing barbed wire and old books immediately feels like a fool's errand. Despite this, the dolls, which had previously worn sickly sweet expressions on their dirty porcelain faces, now look angered, or concerned, perhaps. Probably just a trick of the shadows.

Note about the damage tracker below: it shows gross numbers and does not account for DR, hardness, etc.

Combat Order:
Orange Doll (-12)
Black Doll (-19)
Blue Doll (-3)
Dargon Lake
Rayse
Treesa Lore
Vormog Lough
Posh Stemtimple
Rendydlyn the Red Waif <-we are here
Red Doll

Three of the dolls rush at you, barbed wire fingers flailing!

Orange vs Rayse: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10 Damage: 1d6 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11 --MISS
Black vs Vormog: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7 Damage: 1d6 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10 --MISS
Blue vs Rayse: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13 Damage: 1d6 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11 --MISS

The dolls appear to get into tangles with each other and miss with their wild strikes.

Combat Order: The Party is up!
Orange Doll
Black Doll
Blue Doll
Dargon Lake <-we are here
Rayse
Treesa Lore
Vormog Lough
Posh Stemtimple
Rendydlyn the Red Waif
Red Doll

I played with the grid and it's good enough.

With each member of the group having professed either a truth or a lie, the entire room begins to slowly spin. You notice that the section of the wall containing the entry door is actually missing, and as the room spins another doorway is revealed.

Through the revealed door you follow another stairway leading down, and after descending for a minute you come to another door and another inscription: Dissonance invites destruction. Harmony commands power. — The Concord of Whispers, Verse XVII, The Canticles of Iron

Within is a similarly plain chamber as above, but without the infernal script. Instead it is lit by torchlight on wall sconces around the perimeter. Arrayed on the opposite side of the room, in front of a door, are four small manakins, each standing about four feet tall. They are quite grotesque - straight out of a child's nightmares - doll-like figures built from barbed wire, porcelain faces, and shattered lawbooks bound in flayed skin. Each has a cracked Asmodean pentacle carved into its chest. The flickering torchlight cast maniacal shadows that seem to have a life of their own.

As soon as you enter the room the dolls come to life and attack!

Combat Order:
Orange Doll
Black Doll
Blue Doll
Dargon Lake
Rayse
Treesa Lore
Vormog Lough
Posh Stemtimple
Rendydlyn the Red Waif
Red Doll

Map is 5' squares

Working on a new map in Roll20. I'd appreciate help with it. I have no patience for it and seem to have a lot of trouble. I think it just needs to have the grid resized to match the map lines. I'll wait to begin the combat until we get it sorted.

For the new players, here's the link: Roll 20

I'll give Dargon the day before I zap him.

Right now it's a very close call for the boon. Several good posts on this one.

Wouldn't it have been funny if none of us spoke Infernal?

I do read your character sheets.

Judgment will be delivered tomorrow.

Each of you performs the assigned role, whether it be leader or follower. Having adhered to the direction depicted on the wall drawings, a slice of the floor moves aside and drops over the chains to connect the rim and the dais, such that you might easily return to the doorway.

But the movement of the floor also reveals a stairway spiraling downward. Assuming you follow it, you descend another thirty or forty feet to the bottom and another door. Inscribed as before in common tongue is the following phrase:

A lie not forged with conviction binds you, not others.
A truth without consequence is forgotten.
— Codex Infernis, Doctrine of Word and Bond

Inside, the featureless circular chamber brightens — not with fire, but with the cold red glow of infernal runes that ignite across the walls and ceiling like veins of molten judgment. There is no obvious exit.

Unless I am halving those numbers incorrectly, I believe I succeeded on my second attempt, and both times managed to avoid any damage, right?

correct

no, please roll

The chains cannot be avoided except by flight or dimension door or the like. You will have to jump over them or climb. Rope won't help since the problem is the tricky footwork.

Rayse and Rendylyn put their heads together and as you look about the room you see a pattern. The scenes are crude and the stick figures are depicted in various poses. In the first, one is seated, an arm outstretched toward the others - this is consistent in all of the drawings. The other five are standing with arms raised. In the next, the five are bowing at the waist. In the next they are kneeling, both knees on the floor. And in the last they are kneeling with heads down in total submission.

I'm game. I think we all wanted to kill the other team but didn't want to get in trouble with Tiadora or Thorn.

That would have saved you a lot of trouble later on.

Earlier
Tiadora responds to Rendylyn's question about the White Wolves. "You'll have to find that out for yourselves, dearest."

Now
Behind the secret panel to the north is a plinth on which rests a wand. An inscription above it reads: To your health. The Party is able to quickly determine this is a wand of Cure Light Wounds with 12 charges.

When the secret door to the south is opened you are surprised to see Tiadora standing on the other side.

"I know. Too easy, right? Well this is where things get interesting. But don't worry, the Cardinal expects you to live. Now, if you need to return to the upper floors of the manor at any time, simply open the door behind you."

She steps past you into the first room. "The lessons await." But when you turn back to look, Tiadora has disappeared.

Beyond the door is a winding hallway that ends in another door. The sconce beside it illuminates another placard which reads: The Law flows downward. The strong lead. The wise obey. The foolish burn. — Canticle of Hierarchs

This room is circular, its floor a narrow five-foot wide rim encircling a deep red mosaic of interlocking chains, each link engraved with names in Infernal. At its center is a raised dais with a high-backed throne of black steel and bone, crowned by Asmodeus' unholy symbol burning overhead like a brand in the air. Arrayed in front of the throne are five pentagrams in five squares wide enough to stand on. Scrawled in blood on the walls are several scenes depicting unholy ceremonies.

The air smells of superheated metal, incense, and burnt parchment. Shadows on the walls occasionally mimic different movements than their owners. Except for the doorway in which you now stand, there are no other obvious exits.

The distance between the rim and the dais is 5' across and 5' up. While it's possible to leap across (Acrobatics DC25), you may also try to walk/climb across the chains but you'll need to be quick about it, as the chains are superheated. A Successful DC10 Climb check will incur 1d4 unholy burn damage, DC10 Reflex save for half. Unsuccessful attempts to cross must be repeated or abandoned back to the rim and also incur the damage.

Years ago, when Ronnie James Dio was asked, in an interview at his home, What's with all the devils and death? Dio took a detached view and replied, "I'm exploring the concept of evil in my music."

It was simply that, and we're going to try to do that here. This Nine Lessons, as written, is boring. There are really only a couple places where you get to explore evil, and the rest is frankly garbage.

What we're going to do is not only test your characters, but also you, the player - the person. Some of it will feel weird, some of it might possibly feel vindictive, and at times you may be pitted against each other. You might feel humiliated or like I'm trying to bait you into behaving or acting a certain way. It's not a psychological experiment but it may begin to feel like one. Asmodeus is looking for champions. But more than that, this whole AP should test you as people behind the keyboard. Unless you're a psycopath, this should gnaw at you.

I can dial this down and I can dial this up. If it's pissing you off, send me a PM, and I'll bring it down a level. If you want more, put it into Discussion and we can talk about it. My first attempt at this was the dinner scene, and my impression was that didn't really work for any of you, but maybe it was unexpected, or as someone said, "pointless." I'm going to purposefully create tension. I hope you don't walk away from it and if that's how you feel then let's find a middle ground.

Remember you're still a team and if it seems like I'm dividing you it's only for a moment. We have a contract and I will do my best to honor it.

I hope you guys like puzzles.

I was far too subtle with my "procedural" comment.

Yeah, I hate this. This is the worst kind of dungeon crawl where now I engage in masturbating dicebot. I think I'm going to completely change this dungeon. Get ready for homebrew shenanigans.

Rayse boldly heads across the room for the door on the other side, but Dargon stops him just in time. The rogue spots the trap mechanism occupying the central section of the floor, and discerns it is a pit trap where the floor itself opens.

Meanwhile, keen-eyed Vormog finds secret doors on both the north and south walls!

A bit procedural, but it would certainly speed things up.

"You will either succeed or you will fail, dearest," Tiadora replies. "A chaperone is unnecessary. The Cardinal has placed no restrictions on your movement, only your time. You may freely return to the armory or the library." She pauses for any other questions from the group.

Meanwhile Treesa learns nothing. The room is perfectly safe!

Very early on the morning of the next day, with the lingering taste of roast boar and bad company in your mouths, you are each roused by your servants. It is barely light outside, an hour before dawn at least. You are bid to dress and prepare yourselves - the work begins!

Led into Cardinal Thorn's study, he greets you as he did the first time, from his chair, a thin smile creasing his face. "Have you enjoyed your gifts? The iron circlets allow you to move amongst your enemies as one of them. The silver amulets will remind you of your true loyalties. And the other items – well, you need them now.

"Tiadora will lead you to the basement of this home. There you will progress through a series of chambers and somewhere hidden within these chambers is a pendant of silver and sapphire. Recover the pendant and bring it to me. Let nothing prevent you from returning with it." He stands up and looks out of the manor house window across the grey moor. "It's almost dawn. You have until dusk to bring me my prize. Do not fail me." Cardinal Thorn says nothing more.

Tiadora arrives right on cue. "This way," is all she says.

Leading you to a previously sealed area of the manor, Tiadora opens a door and steps aside, revealing stairs leading down. The stairway is lit by torch sconces and is wide enough for two to descend abreast. Through an archway at the bottom of the stair is an unremarkable chamber. The unfurnished room beyond is lit by a small oil lantern hanging from the ceiling in the center of the chamber. Inscribed upon the archway in the common tongue is: Deception is a tool. Self-deception is death. Deceive always thy enemy but never thyself.

You enter from the west and quickly determine the room is 30' square. A single doorway waits on the far side. It is otherwise empty.

Going to try TOTM here. Throughout this crawl, describe where you are going (N,S,E,W), and where you are facing if you are using skills, including Perception. Generic perception checks without first moving into a room will yield minimal information - little to nothing beyond the description already given. There is a map but it's annoying 10' squares again, and I might change the layout anyway and would prefer not to draw a new one but I will if this doesn't work.

Darkest Dungeon is available on Steam.... I may have to kill a couple hundred hours!

I bought it based on the recommendation here. $4!

Although the Prison was intended to be a difficult test, so...

You'll find out if you survive the crawl, which is assumed but not guaranteed.

Who am I kidding? It's too painful. 5 rooms, tops.

I see what you mean. Maybe it's better to skip it after all.

Nope. You left my party early so now we're definitely plowing through all 9 rooms. [GM sulks]

June 10th is also National Iced Tea Day! And National Ball Point Pen Day! And National Bed Bug Prevention Day! And Bill Burr's birthday! Is Bill Burr actually the Dark Prince? I think so! Asmodeus sipping iced tea and signing thank you cards with a ball point pen while his slaves fumigate the infernal mattress...

Imagine doing that in pbp! That's more or less what's coming, except it's only 9 rooms and gravity is fixed.

It correlates to June 10th, so it's approaching the solstice, assuming Golarion is analogous to earth.

With the two parties expressly annoyed with one another, the evening ends without further intrigue.

Fine. We'll move along tomorrow.

Are you sure? The next part is a really dull dungeon crawl I'm tempted to skip through.

I'm having a lot of fun with this scene but we can let it wrap if everyone is ready to move on.

Always pleased to be underestimated, Rendylyn smiles toothily at Trik. "If only I knew the trick of being dangerous to others!"

"How original," Trik groans.

At Treesa's explanation, Trak merely shrugs and returns to his wine.

Elise appears to feign interest in Rendylyn's repeated request, as if humoring a slow witted but well-meaning child. "Yes dear, I said I would make a note."

Her raven squawks once, shattering what would have been an uncomfortable pause in the conversation.

The draft stirs the tapers again, and a faint creak echoes through the beams above. The roast steam mingles with the smell of old stone and distant incense.

Elise replies first to Rayse, her voice easy but with intent behind her eyes. "Turning a kingdom upside down is no small boast, Rayse. But it sounds like you've thought about it. I wonder — do you already know what part you'd keep? Or do you mean to tear it all down first and sort the pieces later?" She tilts her head slightly, amused. "We had those thoughts once, early on. Then we learned what lasts."

Trik laughs gently at Rayse, then turns to Rendylyn's "breeze" joke with a mock-wounded expression. "And here I thought my own chill came from years in my brother's shadow. But no, it's just little Rendylyn... rustling the drapes with adolescent wit. Good girl." He grins across the table. "You're quick, child. I'll grant you that. I've always had a fondness for prodigies. Like baby scorpions — tiny, venomous, and mostly dangerous to themselves."

Trak is still focused on Treesa, but his gaze occasionally flicks toward others as well. "Spellbooks, hmm? I've got no use for them myself. I prefer weapons you can't drop when you panic." He pauses, then adds thoughtfully, "But if you've got a collection going, maybe there's value in trade. What do you want for it?"

Elise waits for Trik to have his fun, then responds to Rendylyn measured but warm, like a teacher with a bright but unruly pupil. "Onyx from your family's mines? A noble token, I'm sure. And clever to plant a thread now for us to follow later." She brushes her fingertips across the black stone idly. "Still, since you ask so sweetly — we'll look out for it. I'll make a note."

Trik, cutting in cheerfully, adds: "I'll add it to the list, just after 'Don't leave Rendylyn unsupervised in haunted castles.'"

Elise lifts her glass in an elegant fashion. "Let's be clear: we are not here to condescend. You've all done real work — violent, ugly, and necessary. Thorn doesn't waste his time, and neither do we." She holds her gaze on them a moment longer. "But power needs discipline. And charm, when you can manage it." She glances to Posh. "That much, your cartographer seems to understand."

Vormog

Elise studies Vormog closely, her raven ruffling its wings without sound. "Ah. A pragmatist. I find that comforting. Too many in this game mistake fire for strategy. But you, Vormog, see clearly: that victory requires patience, structure, and purpose, as you say. I rather like that. If only more of Thorn's disciples were so composed." A faint smile tugs at her lips, sharp as frostbite. "Perhaps we will have use for each other yet."

Dostan wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, eyeing Vormog. "You talk a lot for a man who hasn't bled in front of me."

Dargon

Trik nearly chokes on his wine laughing, dabbing his mouth with a black silk cloth. "You serve yourself in ways that serve others? My dear fellow, that's almost noble."

He leans forward, eyes dancing. "But I see you. Clever. Careful. Watching everything. That's dangerous in a man who can smile while pruning trees. Just make sure you're not the branch next time."

Trak watches Dargon with a predator's stare. "Listen to him, brother. Dargon has a point. Power not seen is still power. Shadow is stronger than steel. Don't need to believe in it to be stabbed by it." He then returns to cutting his meat in silence.

Trik leans back and raises his glass. "To judicious fires and loyal friends — may neither be wasted."

Posh

Elise gives Posh a polite, calculating nod, like a diplomat weighing a treaty.

"You're no pawn, are you?" she begins rhetorically. "I've met many who smile like you. Most of them were about to rob me — or offer me a partnership."

She sets her glass down slowly. "Yes, we were preparing something grand. Desecration is... delicate work. Like good poetry. Or proper maps." She allows the faintest smile. "I imagine we'll have occasion to trade both before this is done."

Trik allows Elise to finish before maneuvering in on the conversation with Posh. "You know, I like you." He waves his goblet playfully. "You talk like a man three steps ahead and six drinks in. You and I should play cards sometime. Or perhaps... dice and secrets."

Treesa

Dostan swivels his massive skull in Treesa's direction, but lowers his voice. "You kill clean. That's good. But don't talk about it like you're owed praise. Killing's like breathing. You just do it." He grunts and goes back to his meat.

Trak piles on without looking up from his plate. "A red dress, a sharp blade, and no remorse. You wear them all well. Just make sure they don't wear you."

Rendylyn

Trik coos loudly, half-lidded eyes glittering. "'Joy is making our vocation and our advocation one' — gods, I love it when clerics talk dirty!"

Elise turns to Rendylyn with interest. "Hm. Flame, faith, and force — they are not opposed, they are alloyed."

She touches her fingers lightly to her temple. "It takes a priestess to remind the rest of us that conviction is not a weakness." A beat. "And no, we are not mere scouts. We are surgeons. Removing infected tissue from Talingarde's holy corpse."

The candlelight gutters slightly, a faint wind stirring from no open door. The candelabras hiss as wax pools like blood across the iron arms. The room feels a touch smaller. More dangerous.

On the morning of the eve of The Darkness Eternal each of you is informed by your chosen servants that Tiadora has arranged a special dinner for your group. You are invited to the formal dining room - the first time for this particular honor. You will be joined by the Cardinal's other group of guests. Arrive at sunset.

When the hour approaches, you assemble in the common space between your rooms and progress downstairs, through an elaborate hall passing several sets of double doors, and finally into the high-ceilinged dining room.

A long blackwood table gleams in the candlelight. Ornate iron candelabras bathe the room in flickering gold, casting shifting shadows over crimson tapestries bearing the unholy sigil of Asmodeus. The feast laid out is lavish—roast boar, candied figs, dark wine—and yet there's an undeniable chill in the air, as if the room itself resents the warmth.

Tiadora is there waiting for you, and she watches while servants clad in red and black satin robes escort each of you to your seats four on one side and one each at the foot and head of the table, allowing for the second group to claim the opposite side. They arrive only a moment later, and appraisals are made.

Rendylyn has already met Elise and Dostan. The former is dressed in colorful silks and expensive jewelry. She takes her seat first, next to the head of the table, and sits with regal posture, her expression unreadable. Her raven — glossy white as frostbitten bone — perches silently on her chair’s finial, eyes glinting red.

Dostan wears a simple white tunic with the circlet atop his large skull. It appears that the human side of his heritage is dominant in his stout frame, but his face is narrow and fair. He sits beside Elise, his eyes moving between each of you as if determining who is the greatest threat.

Lastly, the twin brothers take their seats. They are nearly identical except that one is slightly taller, and that one is dressed in black shirt, black leather vest, and matching pants. His brother wears red robes and proudly exhibits regalia of the Dark Prince.

Once everyone is seated, Tiadora steps up and announces: "Cardinal Thorn wishes that all of you enjoy this feast. The great work begins on the morrow. Until then." Then she exits the dining room and servants close the doors behind her.

There is a beat of silence and then Elise breaks from her stoic countenance. "So," she smiles, her voice as smooth as summer wind. "These are the famed new acolytes of our esteemed Cardinal. You must forgive our tardiness — we were out scouting a holy site soon to be... desecrated." She lifts her wine glass. "To new allies, and the fall of Talingarde."

The robed brother at the end raises his glass with mock reverence. "And may the blood run thicker than the wine." You learn this is Titus, but he goes by "Trik."

The taller brother is Tallus, who goes by "Trak." He leans forward, his voice low and gravelly. As if trading secrets, he says, "You’ve already made waves, or so we hear. Broke out of Branderscar, did you? Bold. And bloody." He glances at Trik. "Reminds me of your birthday, brother."

Dostan grunts but does not toast. He begins carving into the boar with a short sword-sized knife, slow and deliberate.

Trik follows his brother's chain of thought. "Oh yes. Nothing says celebration like a man screaming into a gag. Ah, memories."

Following the toast, Elise absently pets her raven and asks, "Tell me... do you fight for power, for faith, or simply because you enjoy the burn of it all?"

Dostan does not appear to be drunk, just not big on conversation. A long awkward silence is interrupted when a human female enters the room from the other wing. She is stunningly beautiful, wearing colorful flowing silks. Curiously, an albino raven is perched on her shoulder.

"Dostan, who's your friend?" she asks playfully. Then she steps in front of the barbarian and smiles warmly. "I am Elise Zadaria, fellow servant of the the Dark Prince. We are a group of four; the others are Tallus and Titus, identical brothers. We arrived yesterday a day after you. Might I assume the rest of your party is in the adjacent wing?"

The man snorts. "Dostan Alfson. What's yours?" A second look reveals the brute to be half-elven.

Any luck on my 28 Knowledge (Nobility) check regarding the Cardinal?

Sorry, no, the name Adrastus Thorn rings no bells.

Tiadora stares at Dargon, and then replies cryptically. "Its purpose will become obvious when it is needed."

The medallions are not magical. For real.

Tiadora withdraws without another word, leaving you to your meal and evening activities.

In her exploration, Rendylyn discovers another wing to the manor. It's not a secret, and seems similar to the area your group has been assigned.

Who?: 1d6 ⇒ 41d4 ⇒ 2
However, the next day, Rendylyn encounters a stranger in a common space, a brooding hulk of a man carrying a great sword. The bare-chested man wears the iron circlet on his brow and the medallion as an amulet around his neck. He appears shocked to see the small girl in his path and then looks confused what to do about it. He stands there dumbly for a moment, then says, in a deep voice, "You there, slave girl, fetch my mead."

The slaves speak when spoken to, but with extreme care and brevity, and otherwise meekly inquire about expected meal times, clothing choices, turndown service, and the like, and of course make themselves readily available for stress relief in a multitude of forms, ranging from shoulder and foot rubs to, well, use your imagination.

When questioned directly about matters of the house or the nature of Cardinal Thorn's endeavors, they demure and cannot be compelled.

Likewise, Tiadora is tight-lipped with regard to your future missions as well as any matters related to the Cardinal. He is always simply, "In his study," and "No, you cannot see him," and "When the hour comes he will summon you." Tiadora cannot be nailed down and the more of these types of questions you ask of her the more hostile her tone becomes. When Tiadora is asked about herself, she replies, "I am a devil doing the Devil's work." She does, however, entertain short conversations about Asmodeus, and it is clear that her conviction is fanatical and perhaps familial. Whatever her true nature, Tiadora is not without charms, but beneath them there is terrifying power.

At the evening meal Tiadora makes a brief appearance, handing each of you a silver medallion pressed with the unholy symbol of Asmodeus. In turn she also gives each of you an iron circlet.

"Keep these with you always," instructs Tiadora. "The medallion will open doors that would otherwise be shut. The circlet can cause your enemies to see you as a friend, and a friend to see you as their superior."

Either by spellcraft or further questioning, you may learn that the circlets function as a Hat of Disguise.

Yes.

Welcome back. I trust you had an enjoyable time with the Scouts.