Gravus silently looks to Valka with a resigned expression, and waits for her confirmation to leave.
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"I am te remain here until the morrow," he says, walking a little further into the room and casting a glance up towards the balcony, "does Gallus remain?"
Gravus takes in the sight of Cassia's blade, and her dishevelled look with a concerned tilt of his head, before scanning the room for any signs of disturbance. "After departing here," he begins to explain quietly, "me Domina, along with Bjarturius, paid a visit te one Tuso Liusides Nesor, I presume the father of the man who visited earlier. Once she'd gained audience with the man, she offered her talents te him, I gather as a show of her worth as leader of the Vulpes Nigra... the task he laid down was te remove a particularly difficult obstacle which had plagued his business efforts; a nasty beast that served a rival family, the Carani. "This beast, a Gargoyle no less, made it's lair in a nail factory operated by the Carani here in Loutharnium... having made our way there, Valka Spartica Tisiphone laid down a challenge of single combat te the beast, who foolishly accepted, counting on its stony hide te protect it from harm. Fortunately though, the blessings of Korud, combined with some well placed alchemy on me own part, served te empower me Domina's strikes enough te slay it." "I've been sent here te inform ye of what has happened, while the others report back te Dominus Nesor. Me domina shall return here tomorrow te discuss matters further." His story done, the dwarf takes a slow breath. "Is all well here?" he asks sceptically.
"It be I, Gravus," The dwarf says through the barred door, "I bring news, if ye would let me in te share it."
Some time later, there is a knock at the doors of the Vulpes Nigra, not filled with urgency, but loud enough to be heard throughout the inn. Outside stands Gravus, alone.
Gravus gives Valka a brief look of puzzlement, but then nods and goes about the task of preparing to leave, returning his armour to his pack and re-distributing his assorted alchemical tools about his person. "You have some plan, Domina?" he asks quietly to Valka at some point during the packing.
"Your own assessment of the man was insightful, Domina," Gravus replies, somewhat weakly as he lowers his hand and pushes himself upright, "all I would add, he's clearly a dangerous man, and I don't doubt he would throw ye to the dogs without hesitation if it were te benefit him. It may still be better to work with him for now, though; that he's approached ye rather than another who's loyalty to him is already assured suggests te me not just that he thinks ye can be useful to him, but also that he's worried by your reputation... if he's even half as well informed as he wants te appear, he'll know well of your aptitude for cutting a bloody path through the dangerous men who get in your way, so long as ye don't show weakness to him, I think he'll honour any bargains struck." "Of course, Angeta seems te know more of him than any of us." he adds after a short pause, "perhaps she would share some insight?" When Valka shouts up the stairs after Gallus, the dwarf raises his hand once more to his head, wincing at the sound, and then again when she loudly slams the door.
Gravus continues to twitch intermittently during the effort to restore some semblance of order to the inn, and while the inadvertent movements look as though they would hinder him, they almost seem to be constructive (if a little overzealous,) reactions to practically imperceptible stimuli. By the time Cassia returns, though, this excess of energy has completely escaped him, leaving him leaning somewhat unsteadily against a wall and shielding his eyes from the dim light of the room. He looks over the newcomer through his now bleary eyes, before silently letting his head fall back again.
Gravus, in his overly heightened state flinches slightly at Cassia's approach, his hand moving to grasp the shaft of his axe before recognition relaxes his posture. Hearing the command of his Domina, he stoops to collect the discarded shield from its position near the balcony rails, and taking a steadying breath, he makes his way down the stairs to offer it to her with still trembling hands. Seeing the hole in the wall, he lets out a quiet growl and shakes his head in annoyance, "me apologies Domina," he says, whatever concoction he had imbibed causing his voice to slur and words to run into one-another, "I should'a thought te recheck this cupboard."
Hearing the call to retreat from below, the dwarf steps away from the nearest assailant to look over the balcony towards the source of the command. Seeing the gang leader ruthlessly cut away the life of yet another helpless foe, Gravus fixes Placidius with his bloodshot, perhaps even slightly bloodthirsty eyes and lets loose another vial.
Emerging from the room, having quaffed what looked to be some form of potion or tonic from a flask he had kept close at hand since their arrival in the Vulpes Nigra, the dwarf's expression is infused by an uncharacteristic wildness. His eyes are wide and bloodshot, while his taut muscles seem to twitch with an eager energy all of their own. Gravus rushes forwards, hunched low, before drawing up behind Valka and throwing past her one of his now almost familiarly volatile concoctions.
Gravus peers cautiously through a boarded over upstairs window at the ritualistic display outside, the darkening streets proving little obstacle to his dwarven eyes. "I'm not sure I be likin' this," he speaks in a low rumble, stepping back from the window to look over the balcony rails, "could the death curse have offended the priesthood? Or might this even be some trickery on Placidius' part? Cassia Nigra has already aptly demonstrated that things are nae always as they first appear."
When Gallus removes the flesh mask from its protective wrapping, he finds the inner side to be extremely sticky, to the point it nearly adheres to his hands before he has chance to raise it to his face. But when he does so, the mask almost seems to come alive, pulling close to the man's skin with a quite alarming tightness. After the initial discomfort though, the mask settles into place revealing the changes it has wrought; all of Gallus' facial features have been completely concealed, in their place the face of a man of indeterminable age, who's only remarkable feature is his complete lack of any remarkable features. Beyond this, the mask seems to have contained some admixture absorbed through the skin, as Gallus' muscles have found themselves contracting to help conceal his above average height and build, while his brown hair has darkened a few shades. The final thing Cassia might note with some concern, is the fact that unlike with the effects of her illusions, Gallus' clothes have been left entirely unaltered by these changes.
Before setting off, Gravus grinds together some minerals with a clay-like substance and rolls it out flat onto a small board. Over the course of no more than a few minutes, he moulds and shapes the stuff into the rough outline of a face. Looking between his work and Gallus, the dwarf carefully lays the 'mask' between two sheets of oiled cloth before holding it out to the warrior. "This should render ye unrecognisable te most observation, but it'll nae last much longer than a half hour once it's removed from the protective wrapping, so ye might want te hold of on applying it fer now... just be sure te press firmly around the edges, it'd be a dead give-away if yer false skin were te start peelin' off mid-conversation."
"I have enough materials at hand te perhaps disguise a single person, but for more than that it would be takin' me quite some time te properly prepare the correct mixtures, Domina." Gravus responds to Valka's questioning look.
Gravus follows Valka around the inn, carefully assessing the various entry-points for good ways to secure them against intrusion. "I reckon we could barricade these, Domina," he says, keeping her appraised of the various solutions he finds, "though I would suggest keeping at least one o' the alternatives te the main doors readily usable... just in case this Placidius fellow feels more like burning the place down with us inside than having himself a fair fight."
Once inside, and while the others are drinking to their impending victory, Gravus wastes little time in moving across to the mule and looking expectantly at Valka, waiting only for her nod of approval before uncovering the weapons and armour and setting about distributing them.
"It's really not magic, Domina," Gravus protests weakly at Valka's description of his work, but otherwise remains quiet as the group further discuss their options.
The dwarf acknowledges Valka's words with a shallow nod, "I think it would be imprudent to discount the possibility. No doubt he fears ye, Domina, but that may be all the more motivation for him te turn on ye while you're not prepared for his betrayal, rather than allowing the possibility that he may need te face ye on equal terms in the future." "Honour is something mostly lacking among criminals." he finishes with disapproval clear in his voice.
"I'm no expert on such matters," Gravus intones humbly, "and I would nae dream of questioning ye... it does occur te me though, that this Paesentius may have given up on his hopes of gaining the 'throne' for himself, and now seeks te gain favour with his new 'emperor' by delivering to him those heads he seeks."
Gravus raises an eyebrow slightly at the money given away so freely by his Domina, and carefully scans those inhabitants of the Fremitum also close enough to notice, gauging if any might be tempted to try to win some of it for themselves though less honest work, or perhaps more forceful means.
Gravus begins to trail closely behind the goblin, and after a short distance he barks out a short question to follow through with Valka's inquiry over their diminutive guide's linguistic capabilities. "How far is it?"
Gravus just gives the bugbear a curt nod, before eyeing the goblin suspiciously for a second and glancing back to Valka for confirmation that she is happy to follow.
Gravus allows himself a calming breath as the bugbear show signs of recognition, "Aye, we've dealt with each other... he recently provided us with his services as a guide."
"Our place is no concern of yours, furball," the dwarf says back, only his frequent exposure to noxious fumes allowing him the self control to resist drawing back from the stench, "we're looking for a half-orc named Igno, so ye can either make yerself useful and point us in his direction, or ye can stop fouling up me air."
Gravus hesitates only briefly, his eyes lingering on the morbid talisman on the bugbear's belt before reminding himself that showing weakness to these creatures is not an option. Setting his shoulders to present a stubborn posture as he glares up to meet the stranger's eyes, he responds in a low tone, almost a growl, "and I'm none too keen on wretched goblin-spawn, yet here ye are."
Gravus nods his acceptance of Valkas words, a brief smile touching his lips when she mentions the assistance he provided to Manricus, before moving on to the practical problem of transporting those unable to move themselves. "I may be able te use the tents te construct a means o' carrying the wounded across the tiles more easily, Domina. Though it depends on whether the... statues? unleash whatever unpleasant surprise they have in store only if one steps on an incorrect tile, or merely passes over them."
"Me apologies, Domina," Gravus responds gravely, "I did nae intend te go against your orders again, but the sight o' those... things... I'm ashamed te say, I panicked." "Though," he offers hesitantly, "in me defence, I was nae killed."
"Domina?" Gravus asks in a hushed tone, "are ye alright? Do ye remember what just happened?"
Gravus takes care to commit the procedure to memory as he works to assist Manricus, aware of how valuable such rare knowledge would be should he one day be able to return it to his people.
Gravus looks on impressed as 'Valka' forcefully opens the door, and quietly nods in satisfaction as the metal pitons bend in their place, rather than being pushed aside. With a concerned glance back to the prone forms of Veleda and Bjarturius, Gravus continues to follow his domina/dominus, wondering what exactly this 'one great quest' will entail.
Abandoning hope of receiving any hint from behind him, he similarly discards his hesitation, throwing himself into whatever the fates have in store for him as he strides quickly forwards onto the letters S then Z.
Breathing more easily now that the course has been verified, he continues on the path to spell out the name of Hextor's brother. Only pausing once he steps onto the letter S... 'Roneush', or 'Roneusz' he wonders silently to himself, doubt trickling back into his mind. After what seems like hours or concentration, but in reality is more likely mere seconds, the dwarf casts a worried glance back to the watching priest, hoping to glean some insight as his foot wavers between the two final letters.
Gravus tenses, the first letter--being the same whether spelling out the name of Roneus or simply reversing the route taken to gain entry--the easiest, he then looks nervously between the letters O and U before finally deciding to trust the judgement of the patrician lady. Holding his breath, he proceeds to the letter O.
Gravus looks unsurely between the Manricus-inhabited form of Valka, and the letters on the ground. "Of course, Dominus," he speaks eventually, wracking his mind for what Cassia had said earlier regarding the archaic form of Roneus' name. Eyeing the looming statues warily, the dwarf moves to take a step onto the tile bearing the letter R.
Gravus quickly opens up his freshly prepared salve, its intended application being to ease the swelling of a head-wound, but perhaps it's rejuvinative properties might have some positive effect on whatever horrid curse was inflicted upon Cassia. He reaches down to spread the preperation onto the woman's withered hand, action more fueled by desperation than hope. Without waiting long to see the fruits of his efforts, the dwarf proceeds to hurriedly gather the tools of his trade, before following after the departing spirit and his host.
"Should I bring my equipment?" The dwarf asks once Valka's back is towards him, trying to force his worried voice to sound casual as he moves hastily toward Cassia to see if there is anything he is able to do for the woman in what little time is left before his possessed domina grows impatient.
"I have some skill, Domin-" the dwarf pauses in his confirmation, a somewhat bewildered look crossing his face for a second, "-us."
Gravus' eyes widen at the frightful display, and seeing Valka drop to her knees, he only slightly less hastily follows suit. Carefully watching the ghost's reaction, he speaks with a somewhat nervous tone, "With my Domina's loyalty, comes my own."
The dwarf grimaces at the mention of further walking dead, before shortly nodding and setting to work removing the breastplate from the large Coruskian priest.
Having settled Bjarturius and Veleda near the entrance, the dwarf makes his way to the others. "If the secret of the cure is te be found here, it would be best te find it quickly... I'm nae sure how much longer the lass can hold out, and even if the knowledge is contained in this place, there is no guarantee that the necessary ingredients are here with it." "Might the priest have been interred along with some tome?" he asks, looking over the finely carved coffin, and the watchful eyes of the goblinoid statues... as he meets their stony gaze, he squints and lets out a thoughtful, yet frustrated, grunt as though something is nagging at the back of his mind which he can't quite place.
Gravus watches Cassia's efforts carefully, perhaps a hint of superstitious mistrust in his eyes, but he resigns himself to the fact there is nothing more he can do for the priest immediately. All the same, he hoists himself up from his crouch, and finds space enough to remedy that problem by procuring his trusty mortar and pestle along with an assortment of ingredients.
Gravus backs away from the blocked attack, and takes advantage of the momentary respite to crouch down and check on the nasty head-wound that felled Bjarturius.
Gravus takes a long ragged breath as he breaks free of the muscle-binding influence of the ghouls, his reddened skin making even that simple movement painful. Still, he notes the dire situation unfolding around him and steels himself to take action; half stumbling, he makes his way haltingly towards the fray, and grips the shaft of his axe between scorched fingers. Waiting for the right moment to strike, the dwarf holds the weapon low to one side.
After almost slumping to the ground under the fell influence of the undead fiend assaulting him, the dwarf seems to call upon some inner resolve to fight on. Despite this effort, he still take a few small steps backwards, managing to square his feet against the onslaught just inches away from the mysterious carvings on the ground. From his now unyielding stance, he swings his weapon upwards to break the creature's momentum.
Gravus nods to Valka, before pushing closed the doors and examining them for the best place to wedge them closed, perhaps with a pugio. Once the doors are secure, he then takes out some dried herbs and grinds them together as he begins preparations for a salve to treat Cassia's leg.
"It's doubtful those goblins would be able te open the doors were they simply closed, at least individually, but it should be a simple enough matter te wedge them closed as an extra precaution... It may also be a good idea te secure the mules away from the tiles, in case they wander too close while we're away."
"If ye don't mind," Gravus offers to the patrician woman before taking a quick, almost cursory look at her leg. "This looks like a simple allergic reaction te this breed of dog's particular mix of parasites," he speaks reassuringly, "I'm certain it'll last no more than a day or so if left alone, as long as ye don't scratch at it too much. Though given ten minutes, I'll be able te mix up a salve te counteract the reaction, and soothe your skin."
Gravus at first shrugs off the impact of the arrow, confident that it is of little importance, but as he proceeds to make his way down to stairs towards the fray he stumbles a few steps from the sudden loss of blood. Throwing his weight against the earthen wall to stabilise himself, he takes a few deep breaths and looks down to the widening bloodstain on his tunic. Pressing the hand holding his axe against the stones behind him, drawing from their steadfast resilience, he reaches with his other to retrieve the small container of ointment he prepared before breaking camp earlier in the day. As the sound of battle around him falls away, he forces himself to continue with his task, slowly breaking open the wax seal and applying some of the thick substance to the wound through the tiny hole in his armour. The sudden burning sensation cuts through his daze, and his eyes widen with the pain, though he knows that he is not yet finished, he scoops out the remainder of the ointment and grits his teeth before reaching down to the nasty gouge on his leg.
Releasing a hand to shield his eyes from the storm, Gravus hurries forwards to keep up with the others. |