Mirza hangs back while they report, hoping perhaps to avoid doing the work of sharing their findings. He frowns at Ink's apology and finally steps in with his summary of events.

"Their prophet Ahksiva, a woman living in a dilapidated cottage in the swamp, was responsible for corrupting the Arodenite church worshipping from Guiding Light; we secured one of their recruitment pamphlets and infiltrated the congregation. This prophet subverted a former cleric of Aroden, a man called Reast Mycer, corrupting his faith such that he devoted himself to the Harbinger of Last Days. Reast is still in the Fen, alongside the remainder of their apocalypse cult. He sent an acolyte to escort us to the prophet's cottage. The congregation became swayed to the belief that Aroden's death was a step of significance in fulfilling a destiny of apocalypse, and that the Harbinger brought not the end of all but instead a change. A new, better world would be created for them once this one had been dismantled, and their prophet called on them to bring that future about for themselves. So their priest spoke at their service, 'We must be as the swamp and drown out the world so that something new may grow in its place.'"

Fortitude Save: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25

Mirza grits his teeth, steeling himself against the cloud of vapor. He concentrates on the Blessing spell, extending its reach (1-action), then Strides to close with the prophet again (1-action), Striking with his rapier (1-action).

Rapier strike: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 8 = 11 for Piercing: 2d6 + 3 ⇒ (3, 4) + 3 = 10

(We're probably close to the end so I'm going to use a hero point to reroll this strike)

Rapier strike: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (17) + 8 = 25 for 10 piercing damage

(Fingers crossed Pyrexius can tumble through to the other side of the prophet, get panache, and then attack from flanking)

Effects: Bless, +1 status bonus to attack rolls for allies within a 10-foot ematanion

Mirza holds his rapier upright and clasps his hands together at its hilt, casting Bless (2-actions). "Everbloom, steel our courage and guide our blades against Cassomir's architect of doom."

He returns to a dueling stance and Strikes (1-action) while the prophet has her back turned.

Rapier strike: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (13) + 8 = 21 (flanking) for Slashing: 2d6 + 3 ⇒ (6, 3) + 3 = 12

(Bless is only a 5-foot emanation for now, so it won't reach Pyrexius until I can extend its reach on my next turn. I will be extending Bless unless things go majorly sideways and I need to do a 3-action Heal, though.)

Mirza braces himself, putting a tentative foot down into the slime again.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20

Ready to successfully move across the real nasty slime ground, Mirza Seeks (1-action) out the prophet.

Perception to Seek: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22

(I think that succeeds?) He Strides (1-action) across the slime next to the prophet and makes a Strike (1-action) against her.

Strike with Rapier: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 8 = 11

(Pretty sure that misses, but if it doesn't...) Rapier Damage: 2d6 + 4 ⇒ (1, 5) + 4 = 10

(Map updated.)

Mirza follows Doryg's swordtip and scowls, preparing himself emotionally for the task of crossing the slime.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3

The slime is too gross.

Mirza Strides (1-action) further into the room and casts magic weapon (2-actions), enchanting his rapier. (map updated)

Mirza stands with forced neutrality, waiting while the woman gives her speech. His response to her question is simply to step in front of Ink and draw his sword.

((back in time to RP the warning))

Mirza reaches out his hand in warning, resting it on Ink's shoulder if she's close enough.

"Hold on, now. I'm no slime expert, but that green stuff the Prophet has growing here in the swamp looks like it might be pretty dangerous to you."

Mirza is alert for trouble while they move through the swamp, ready to defend the group from anything that might emerge from the swamp, or from the herald should the situation turn.

Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23

Mirza watches Reast carefully when he approaches their group.

"Thank you, herald," he says smoothly. "We are eager to take our places ushering in the tides of change."

((I guess I'll roll religion again))

Religion: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22

((eek, sorry! Let me catch up here...))

Mirza frowns, hesitant when the group decides to split. Though he is concerned for Doryg's safety alone, he ultimately decides to stick with Ink and the kobolds, as they're more likely to face danger within the temple and need the backup. He slips a pair of gloves on as they make their way toward the temple, concealing his hand tattoos.

He looks up at the eyeball when Pyrexius points it out, frowning again; though he can't ascertain what it is (no occultism), he reasons that a living eyeball is probably magical in some way. Mirza breaks off from the others, turning so his back is to the assembling congregation, and casts a Read Aura spell as discreetly as he's able to investigate the eyeball.

After one minute of casting, Mirza waves Doryg over to the eye, then rejoins Ink, Izkazk, and Prexius entering the temple.

((Belated deception check while entering the temple...))

Mirza cups his hands bows silently, happy for Ink to take the lead on their story to the cultists.

Deception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10

Mirza looks around the temple with some interest as they enter it, unsettled but curious.

Religion: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25

Will Save: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12

"The pleasure of the prophet's presence has yet to be mine, though I look forward to it," he answers. "Groetus' history with all of us is a shared and undeniable one."

((jeez, those roles; knowledge religion was really the lynchpin to this post I needed e_e))

"A time and a place," Mirza remarks, considering. "We could check out the temple ahead of time, get an idea of what to expect there. Spending some time looking into the swamp might not be a wasted effort, either."

Mirza keeps an eye on Dalimus, looking out sudden moves that might put Ink in danger; he leaves the doomsayer in her hands otherwise.

"Once we finish searching here, that should be our next stop," Mirza agrees. He looks at the symbol carefully, turning it over in his hands and considering the meaning of combining the two symbols.

Religion: 1d20 + 5 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 5 + 1 = 12

Mirza searches the ruins and the nearby area, focusing on anything that might indicate the presence of gangs or other organized unlawfuls.

Perception: 1d20 + 5 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 5 + 1 = 16

Underworld Lore (if useful): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8

"We should search the King's Closet and surrounds next," Mirza suggests, turning away from his post watching the streets and moving closer to the other Pathfinders.

Mirza hangs back and watches the neighbourhood for trouble, keeping an eye out for anyone who might be concerned about a group of outsiders speaking to Maro.

Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20

"He owes you a great debt," Mirza says, smiling to her gently. "Can you tell us where he was when you found him, and what healer you took him to?"

Mirza enters the establishment and looks around, slipping into a seat that won't put his larger frame in the way of his companions. He watches the others in the restaurant, keen to see what types of people were there and how they interacted with each other.

He smiles when Tamara comes to their table, quickly moving his attention onto her. "I'll take that special, miss."

"Thank you, Venture-Captain Themis." Mirza nods to her in parting, then turns and follows after the other Pathfinders.

"If monsters are behind some of the attacks, there's a swamp nearby they might be coming from. Otherwise... well, the people here are just getting poorer while the rest of the city grows."

Mirza hung back and let the others field questions, happy with the ones they chose. He listened to Hestia's answers while he let his attention wander to the city streets around him, taking note of the type of people, the attention and attitude toward their group, and the kind of attention or caution the Fen's citizens gave each other.

Mirza picks his pack back up and hoists it over his shoulder, hanging back in the conference room and making sure the other, shorter Pathfinder agents follow the Venture-Captain first; he falls into line at the back of the tour, keeping half an eye on the gnomes and the kobolds while they're shown through the city.

He looks around when they enter Admiral's Fen, paying attention to the types of people they see in the neighbourhood.

"Who lives in Admiral's Fen now?" Mirza asks, wondering how the Venture-Captain sees the district's current residents.

"Curiosity's not a fault," the Kellid man says with a small shrug. He smiles again, though this time with a small, sardonic twist to the corner of his lips.

"Steady and strong in admirable degrees, certainly, but not the target of specific personal significance, no. Infernal Cheliax mistreats most of her subjects, with little regard for how tall they'd have grown in other fields."

Mirza's eyes follow two kobolds, and he smiles in amusement at their competition before his attention moves to Doryg. He lifts his hands, palms facing himself, affording the gnome a better look at the tattoos on them; he elects not to take his shirt off to better expose the inked vines at his neck, however.

"Very true, Mister Doryg," he says after giving the gnome a silent moment to examine them. "These are religious. The holy symbols of the Everbloom," he turns his right hand slightly, indicating the rose tattoo, "and the Red Queen," indicating his left hand with the lotus.

A slim Kellid man enters the conference room, betrayed before his arrival by the clack of his heels on the floor; he makes no attempt to conceal his approach.

The man has dark skin, dark hair, and amber eyes rimmed in a small amount of dark kohl makeup. His face seems permanently tired. He wears a long coat over a leather jerkin, and a tattoo of thorns and leaves is barely visible rising up toward the left side of his neck. The backs of his hands are similarly tattooed, with a rose on one and a lily on the other. A rapier hangs from his swordbelt, and his heavy backpack might as well contain his entire life.

He sets his pack on a chair and leans against the wall by the door, waiting silently for the remainder of the Pathfinders to arrive before he introduces himself.

"Mirza," he says with a half smile, raising one hand in a small wave or salute.