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"Indeed!" Istas calls out from the next room, "By Pharasma's will, we shall visit the fate they've earned upon them."
The offensive lout stands and takes a step down the barricade. Raimondo hurries toward him drawing a knife and shouting, "Stop! Damn your sass. Have you any idea who these people are?!" The lout stops and Raimondo turns back to the party. "Go, before you cause more trouble." Istas matches the lout with a dead stare as Emerion leads them away. Some part of her wishes the man's friend hadn't cautioned him. Lord Arkona's men seemed like they could use a wake-up call...and she would have been more than happy to administer it.
"I believe your girl has the right of it," the priestess notes, "I've lived all my life in Korvosa among the dead. And, if it were an ill omen, the entire Gray District would bear the worst omen of all." She sets aside her things and looks about for a place where she can quietly meditate. "Once I've had time to commune with Pharasma, I can preserve the body so that even the odor is suppressed."
"Heather? I'll leave it to you and Emerion to bring Varlis up to speed on our dealings here...and to plan our next foray."
"Marshal Croft is doing the best she can with the limited resources she has..." Istas returns to the offensive lout, "We've already done more than anyone else in this city to end the bloodveil. So, I wouldn't call that 'fecking nothing.' Would you? Be glad we're here now...and that we volunteered to cross the river when no one else would. The Gray Maidens aren't letting anyone cross back to the other side. So, we're here for the duration. And we'll set things right, or give our lives trying. One of our number already perished at the hands of cutthroats lying in wait in a shop down the street. But we ended their threat and they'll trouble no one any longer. We'll be doing the same to anyone else disturbing the order."
"It's rare that life presents us with the same choice twice," Istas notes, "But when it does, we should always strive to make sure we make the right one the second time around." "To which," she addresses Varlis, "It would appear we may have gotten off on the wrong foot. I apologize if I appeared uncooperative or distrustful. If Heather and Emerion find your cause parallels our own, I see no reason to discard the gift Pharasma provides with your timely appearance." "There is a home nearby where we're staying. I've agreed to aid this family...friends of Emerion...in exchange for their assitance. But we felt it prudent to seek our friend Orsino to determine his whereabouts and ask his assistance in setting things right here on this side of the river. Alas, we found no sign of Orsino, and we lost another friend to the Red Mantis who ambushed us when we arrived. If Orsino has drawn the attention of such assassins, perhaps your experience with them can aid us in rescuing him before he suffers a similar fate at their hands..." "Emerion? Do you think you and Varlis here can carry Kenan's remains back to the home of your friends? Once there, I'll need many hours in prayer to complete the necessary rituals to preserve his remains and also help the girl. While I do so, you and Heather may want to compare notes and discuss things more fully with Varlis about our next steps."
"Kenan fell to the Mantis, and now Pharasma provides us with a Mantis hunter," Istas notes aloud, "All according to her greater plan, no doubt." She looks around at the carnage and fire damage for moment and then adds, "We should wrap Kenan's body and make arrangements for interring him in Potter's Ward once we cross the river again and reach the Gray District. In the interim, I can preserve his remains so they aren't an undue burden on anyone. Do you think your friends could look after his body until our task is done here, Emerion? It seems the least we could ask of them in exchange for aiding your scarred acquaintance."
"This is Mr. Larward," Istas offers, "He claims he's a Sheriff working under the authority of Commander Endrin...investigating the Red Mantis, it would seem. I've already advised him they are no more and gone to dust."
Rather than lead Varlis upward, Istas decides to pause on the stairs and await Heather and Emerion's approach. She crosses her arms and stares in silence as they wait.
Spoiler:
"I do not make a habit of asking others for permission to seek the counsel of my goddess," the Shoanti returns, "It is you who intrudes here. Not I. Thus, I must know if we can trust in your word...and appearance here. After all, this is the home of a friend. And, as I stated, we're representatives of the Guard seeking his whereabouts as we conduct the Field Marshall's business." She waits through Varlis' call to the others upstairs. "You need not fear the Red Mantis any longer," she explains with an impassive expression, "Both assassins are well on their way to the Boneyard by now, assuming the red mist they left behind speeds their journey to the afterlife. They took one of us with them, though my other companions are just above." From her tone, it's clear she's comfortable in talking matter-of-factly about death, and completely unmoved by the man's violent thoughts. After all, he will either stay his arrows or pierce her heart accordingly...and as Pharasma wills. She continues monitoring his thoughts as she calls out on her own. "Heather? Emerion? You may want to come down now. We have another visitor." To Varlis, she adds, "I am Istas. The Hand of Pharasma. May the bones fall in your favor."
"That's beyond my ability to share," Istas replies, "So, I'll defer to my companions upstairs. I merely go where the waters of the Lady of Graves take me." She makes the sign of Pharasma and offers a quiet prayer for illumination.
She motions for Varlis to follow her upstairs, concentrating on his thoughts as she precedes him. "So, you're familiar with the Red Mantis?" she asks in an attempt to guide their conversation.
Istas projects her consciousness for just a brief moment to ascertain the nature of the voice at Vencarlo's front door.
Satisfied that their visitor isn't another Red Mantis assassin but still uncertain if he's a new danger altogether, the priestess moves closer to stairs in the event she needs to retreat and rejoin Heather and Emerion. Otherwise, she stands quietly until the newcomer enters the room. "I was unaware the Queen or the Guard had need of any Sheriff's, Mr...Larward, is it?" she speaks aloud when he arrives, "My friends and I representatives of the Field Marshall, looking in on a friend of ours..."
"It appears Vencarlo has long left this place," Istas surmises, "Given the turmoil in the city...and especially here across the bridge...I suppose that's unsurprising. Still, he never struck me as the sort to flee these circumstances. I wonder if something more important drew him from here? Perhaps he took it upon himself to investigate matters, as well? After all, it isn't everyday one draws the attention of the Red Mantis."
Istas closes her eyes for a brief moment, before whispering, "We all see the light when our time has come. May my Lady's judgment of your soul be swift so it passes quickly to your final reward." She pulls away in time to hear Emerion. "No," she disagrees, "Our lives and circumstances play out according to the choices made by us and those around us. The assassin chose to spare you. In so doing, we all rushed to your aid. Even Kenan's choice to do so, and his ultimate fate no doubt altered yours. For it allowed us to reach you before the Red Mantis could torture from you the information they sought. And once they had it, they would have killed you anyway. Now, with Kenan's sacrifice, you are saved...and the rest of us, as well. Our path continues, even as theirs come to an end." She looks back to Heather. "Is the fire quenched? We should save Orsino's home in case there are clues to his whereabouts. We also need time to see Kenan's remains carried from here and properly laid to rest."
"They're death-dealers," Istas explains, "Red Mantis. A cult of hired killers and assassins. And they're very efficient at what they do. Of course, even those who deal in death find it sometimes comes for them, as well. Even so, you're lucky to be breathing at all, Emerion. He wouldn't have hesitated to kill you outright if he didn't have another purpose in mind for you. He probably needed a captive to interrogate. Maybe they were waiting here for Orsino...or looking to ambush anyone who came looking for him so they could determine his whereabouts..." As she talks, the Shoanti priestess continues examining Kenan.
Istas moves to check on Kenan, ready to stabilize him, if necessary. And also prepared to drag him out of the burning building in case Heather's elemental can't finish putting out the flames.
With Emerion and Heather harrying the assassin, Istas moves in for the kill, pressing forward with her spear and shield. "Heather, stand back!" the priestess warns, "We'll take him."
Istas moves up the stairs as Heather retreats. Upon sighting both Kenan and Emerion, she calls upon the power of Pharasma to stave off death and restore their spirits.
Finally, patting down the last of the smoldering flames wreathing her body, Istas raises her eyes to the stairs, preparing to follow after her friends.
Seeing the assassin finally fall, Istas backs away from the blazing inferno.
But not so quickly that she can avoid the flames licking at her robes. The priestess grits her teeth against the heat of the fire as stoically as a Shoanti racing across the Burning Plains. She pushes the pain aside, knowing her goddess can mend her burned flesh once she escapes and has more time. "We've got to get everyone out of here," she tells Heather even as she catches fire, "There's no way we can combat these flames on our own. This was an assassin. A cultist devoted to a death-dealing mantis god. If there's one down here, Emerion may have found another above. Check on him. I'll be there in a moment." She then moves further across the room, fully aware her footsteps are likely spreading the raging fire. But she controls her mounting fear and patiently removes her cloak to smother the flames before they further damage her.
"Not without Emerion!" Istas calls back to Heather, "He should be here by now! Go check on him!"
The priestess tries in vain to place the unusual markings and distinctive armor of their opponent, struggling to figure out what kind of trouble Orsini has attracted to himself. "What are you?" she wonders aloud in the heat of battle. "Some kind of paid assassin?" She spins her spear again, changing her grip for an overhand thrust. "Well, there's only one bringer of death this day, bug-lover! And it's the handmaiden of the Lady of Graves!"
And Istas thrusts forward with her spear.
Istas draws upon the inexorable strength of the grave to face this new threat. "Lend me the might of my ancestors, Lady Pharasma...so I may pierce the heart of those you bring before me."
She then circles around Kenan and his opponent, seeking to surround him.
"What have you done with Orsini?" the priestess demands as she presses forward with her shield and readies her spear for a crippling strike.
"It would seem this place has seen little use for quite sometime," Istas calls as she begins wandering from room to room to rejoin her friends. "Food has spoiled due to inattention. Yet, these fires still burn merrily enough. Are they magic? Or has someone recently arrived to try and warm the place anew?"
Istas stays put, waiting downstairs by the main entrance in case anyone might come along and follow them into Orsini's abode. To aid her companions, however, she uses the sight of Pharasma to peer into a handful of rooms above her and to either side.
"Perhaps he was otherwise indisposed?" Istas suggests, "Or dead..." She looks down as Emerion glances upward at her tone. "We have yet to take stock of just how bad things became on this side of the river," she explains, "Anything could have happened as Davaulus and Lady Andaisin's plague spread enough turmoil to cause all kinds of problems. It also sounds like the Gray Maidens have either replaced or kept the Guard at a distance...where their effectiveness at restoring order would have been severely limited. After all, the Maidens even challenged us as we crossed over. And if they didn't throw their full support behind whatever guardsmen ventured here on their own, any rabble could have quickly overwhelmed those who tried to restore order...particularly if this Pilts and Arkona were actively working against them in some kind of power grab."
"What proof do you have that you come from the Marshal and not from Arbasti or Swastel?" Istas silently displays the badge awarding them membership in the Guard, but her eyes look beyond the sergeant at his men, taking their measure.
"It may be the Goddess who provides the power, Istas, but it is you who are her vehicle, and I thank you." "There is no one to thank," Istas answers as stoically as always, "Either Pharasma wills it...or she does not. The Lady of Graves cares nothing for our gratitude. Only the choices we make, the lives we live, and our appointed date with death." "Now, if we must wait for the prayers, let's not wast our time. Vencarlo's academy is not so far, and he may also have information - and maybe aid for us too." "Perhaps you and the others should use your skills and knowledge of Endrin Island to seek out Vencarlo while I stay here?" Istas suggests, "Whatever information you or he provides following your scouting mission, should allow us to better prepare ourselves for the task at hand."
"Istas my friend," he speaks quietly but with intensity. "I've seen you work miracles among those cursed with Bloodveil, by the Lady of Grave's grace, can you also heal it's scars?" "It is not I, Emerion, who heals anything," Istas replies, "It is only the will of Pharasma and the faith which others place in her. I can pray on this one's behalf, but she must believe...and Pharasma must will it...for her assigned fate to change. And if it changes, it was destined to be so."
"Well then." Heather looks at Istas. "Shall we see what the Lady of Fates has in store for Mr Swastel? I have the feeling it isn't anything good." "It does seem my Lady continues to have us act as her harbingers of fate, visiting ruin upon those whose life's choices have now come due. If it's time for this man Pilts to pay the reaper, I have no qualms in carrying out Pharasma's will against him. And there'll be no swimming against the tide we'll bring on her behalf."
"And here we are...duly appointed members...albeit honorary...of the Korvosan Guard," Istas wonders aloud, "Yet another predetermined path Pharasma lays before us."
"Yes...have you seen any tigers?" Istas adds in a flat monotone, seemingly serious.
"Well, that looks welcoming," Istas sourly notes aloud, "Are you sure your friend's accepting visitors?"
"It's easier to go where the water takes you than to always swim against it," Istas notes aloud, "Lead on."
"Agreed. We stay together," Istas asserts, "Our actions in the city have created many enemies. From Barvasi to the cultists of Urgathoa and even the nosferatu Arkminos and the occasional misguided Gray Maiden. Pharasma brought us together. As such, some higher purpose guides our actions. Meaning, we should watch out for one another to ensure we live enough to carry out that purpose." Istas adjusts the pack on her shoulders and thumps the cobblestone street with the butt of her grandfather's spear, using it almost like a walking stick...albeit, a very deadly one. She can feel the magical energy coursing through it, almost as if the spear wishes to be thrown, to fly and return. With a sweep of her arm, she points at one of the cross-streets ahead. "Let's have a look around, just to see how things fare..." she says. Finally, she steps beyond the bridge, eager to explore the conditions of Endrin Island and determine what new path her goddess has prepared for her.
"And watch out for tigers," Istas says. As ludicrous as it sounds, the priestess seems completely serious in her deadpan demeanor. When the others stare at her, she simply shrugs and adds, "My Lady sent me a dream. And there was a tiger..."
"Why?" Istas asks, "As a healer and ordained follower of Pharasma, there is no disease which can make me infirm, or which the Lady of Graves cannot undo. And, if I remain unbowed by such virulence, I have faith in the divine abililities granted me to assure my companions will as well. Thus, your quarantine...while potentially necessary for those occupying the Isle of Endrin...will be unnecessary for us, Captain. We are champions of Korvosa and honored members of the Guard. We are also the ones who rightly identified and eliminated the source of this disease by venturing into the very pit of the cult which nurtured it. So, we will act responsibly to avoid bringing it back with us. You can rest assured of that." The priestess hefts her grandfather's spear, its Shoanti feathers and fetishes swayed by the soft breeze from the river. Her eyes seem distant as she turns her gaze to the far bank, barely recognizing the Captain's response.
"Whether a rabble awaits us or not, we'll assess the situation and let you know where things stand upon our return. We are better prepared to deal with this...and fate is ever on our side."
"There's also the added task of ensuring the outbreak of bloodveil is fully stamped out," Istas adds, "We need to check every area of the city to be certain the sick are identified and treated...and that those who perished from the disease have had their remains purified and properly laid to rest."
"How silly of them to try and prevent us from our appointed fate on the other side," Istas notes aloud. "If Pharasma will see us there, there's nothing they can do to stop that from happening. Lead on, Emerion. Let us see what the Lady has in store for us through your...arrangements."
Will save....Too bad. It was a good idea.
Any other preparations for the big trip? Istas returns again to the Gray District so she can meditate in the sanctity of her Lady's temple.
Before leaving Jolistina in the Guard's custody, Istas invokes one last prayer over their captive. Calling upon Pharasma's name, she touches the shoulder of the young murderess as she speaks. "May your willful disregard for the sanctity of both life and death prove your undoing. If Korvosa's justice fails to send you to the Boneyard, may Pharasma's judgment forever fall upon you in this life and the next."
"He left the city. Though he wasn't alone." Istas spends a moment examining the potions, then passes them along to Heather. "Avoid the Grey Maidens?" she muses, "And what reason would there be for that other than to assure none of them contracted this new form of bloodveil." "I had hoped we were done with this. No more outbreak. Just slow recoveries among the victims with no more vectors for spreading the illness. And yet, now we have this one. Someone else Rolth used to pass along one more round of virulent death. Let's hope it's the last." The priestess rubs her forehead in consternation. "It seems it is Pharasma's will that these lives be sacrificed so the perpetrators become known to us. All so we can put them down and send them to the Boneyard for judgment. It's a pity so many died so suddenly for such a cause. But sometimes innocence must be sacrificed so justice can be brought to the blasphemous." Istas cleans her dagger and sheathes it once more in the scabbard strapped to her thigh, covering over it with the skirt of her evening dress. "We should find the Field Marshall," she tells the others, "Kroft will want to know about this...and we should help her understand what took place here as we hand this one over to the Guard."
While Heather interrogates the prisoner, Istas quietly draws upon Pharasma's power to peer into the minds of others.
"...Istas, I believe the undead await your attention." "Indeed they do," the priestess stoically replies. She leaves their new captive in her friends' capable hands as she moves throughout the mansion one room at a time. Her holy symbol is held ready in one hand and the peacebringer dagger in the other. Where possible, she attracts the attention of any remaining zombies, attempting to draw them all toward her so Pharasma's divine energy can free them from Urgathoa's corrupting influence.
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