Pallomir Traeve's page

"I definitely would advise against returning to the inn. Any large group of strangers are likely already being rounded up by the military or loyal town watch, if any of them exist. It's also very likely that, if there's anybody there who can figure things out, that they have assumed that we are Masoumites of all things. They will seek to trap us in the city, so if we hope to leave tonight, it has to be now while they're still reeling from the chaos we created. The military securing the city gates will likely cause unrest with the Masoumites, which will also likely set this city off like a cask of Alkenstar fire powder, so if we really want to save this city from either destruction or total Masoumi domination, we need to eliminate the Masoumi presence here, which means taking out these six 'Apostles' holed up at Lady Carus'."

Traeve takes a deep breath and sighs. "If we leave now, Masoumi will gain a foothold in Cheliax right here. If we stop them here, it will set them back, but they will gain another foothold somewhere else...it's only a matter of time. If Hinji falls to Masoumi, it will be bad. If Westcrown falls to Masoumi, it will be catastrophic. If we can somehow save both cities, then maybe, just maybe...it will show the people the strength of Asmodeus against this upstart godling, that resistance is not futile."

Traeve, sensing that anything he might say would likely only make things worse, sits silently near and just behind Morgana. He watches the wizardess, his face etched with worry.

”Divide them,” Traeve says. ”If they think we’re going out the back, they’ll send some of those crossbow men running but not all. It will limit the amount of weapons’ fire coming at us as we bolt for the front gate…which is of course closed. We need to solve that problem as well before we make a run for it. We also need to decide right now of we’re fleeing Hinji entirely or going to ground and coming back to deal with these Apostles.”

When Morgana looks to Traeve, she catches him staring at her, concern and worry on his face. His unnerving, penetrating eyes continue to probe, trying to get a read on her mental state.

”I think that’s an excellent idea, and well worth the few extra minutes.”

Forgot Traeve.

Traeve squeezes off a bolt at the admiral, but it doesn’t even come close.

Attack: 1d20 + 8 + 2 + 4 - 2 - 4 ⇒ (2) + 8 + 2 + 4 - 2 - 4 = 10

Traeve mentally pronounces judgment on the enemies before him, raises his crossbow, and taking aim between the bars, squeezes off a shot at the blind cleric.

Attack: 1d20 + 8 + 2 + 3 - 2 - 4 ⇒ (4) + 8 + 2 + 3 - 2 - 4 = 11

Sadly, the bolt glances off the man’s breastplate.

”Pallomir Traeve,” Traeve says. ”The saboteurs who brought down the Arch are coming to stop your ritual. Now let us back there.” His hand touches his crossbow.

”Or else.”

Intimidate: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (13) + 16 = 29

The guard swallows under that state, stammers his agreement, then rushes to unlock the door into the detention area.

He lets you in to a short hallway lined with arrow slits, though none are currently occupied. A door leads into the sentry post and another leads into the cell blocks.

”Any suggestions on how we could reduce the number of guards between us and the halflings without bringing even more down on our heads?”

From within the command post comes the ringing of a gong. Traeve mutters a curse. ”Damn! The ritual has started. We don’t have long and there’s no way we’re fighting through that many guards in time.”

”This ceremony is insanity, which just smacks of the admiral. She’s hated Hinji and it’s lawlessness everywhere since she was assigned here amd so the opportunity to wipe out a significant amount of the rabble must have been too good for her to pass up. If we can eliminate her, her replacement is likely to be much saner in their approach. Prisoners will be in the main command post, the building with all the security.”

”Depends: how ballsy do you want to be? The base will have a healer at the clinic.”

Concerning the thoughts about waiting until morning, Traeve voices one concern: ”Do we dare wait? We know they already have the halfling children in the fort. They might be intending to offer the sacrifice tonight.”

Traeve shakes his head. "I have no naval academy uniforms to offer. I'm sure with a bit more looking, however, we'll be able to find another, hopefully without the peculiar undead already wearing them."

”Ice tears. The narcotic of choice in Hinji. Hallucinogenic and makes you feel very warm, so that folks who are high tend to remove their clothing. Therefore they need a place to sleep off their high, hence the dens.”

”Not a bar. An ice tears den. They’ll be easier to ‘convince’.”

Traeve shrugs. ”We could always enlist, though either of those ideas should work.”

”Fort Gorthoklek is no Citadel Rivad. It’s where the Chelish navy trains new recruits and where people go to enlist in the navy. There are always new faces around the place. Most of the buildings inside are supply warehouses and barracks, with an officers’ barracks and a command post.”

”What could she be thinking? Unleashing a brutalis in a city, whip up the commoners to fight your battle for you? The death toll of this could be a quarter of the city, if not higher. Admiral Grinceen has resented the lawlessness of Hinji for awhile now but I never thought she’d resort to sterilizing then city to protect her little base!”

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (17) + 12 = 29

”Now do you understand why I’m so willing to betray Cheliax in this fashion? It’s the only way to save it and the rest of the world.”

A bit of fear has crept into his voice too.

”It was not like this three weeks ago.”

”Westcrown is a city in decay. Everything bad I said about Taldor is present in Westcrown. Westcrown is like the bride jilted at the altar who lives the rest of her life still wearing her dress, the city that was supposed to become the capital of the new world that became the pallid reminder of what couldn’t be. Then to add insult to injury, House Thrune moved the capital to Egorian.”

”Westcrown has a lot of history and so any fool with a nostalgic thirst for the past can find an audience and support. The citizens do not go out at night, as strange other-worldly beasts roam the alley ways after dark, and though those creatures won’t take on a well-armed warrior, average citizens caught outside at night are in serious trouble. There’s a 30-year-old curfew law still on the books designed to protect the people, as nobody can figure out where they come from.”

”The constant unrest from fools who think freedom is some glorious prize they can win with a few speeches and some sabotage, and fear of their own shadows, means that Westcrown continues to decay and can never really rebuild. Thrune could send in a force to wipe out the dissidents and establish order, but they don’t. I believe it’s because they enjoy seeing Westcrown in ruins, like a testament to the folly of the past while Egorian is a bastion of the future. Personally, as a lover of the study of history, I have a soft spot for Westcrown, though I understand that history is something to learn from, not something to return to.”

Traeve shakes his head. ”Sorry, but I’ve never been there, at least not inside. The Order of the Rack…don’t take well to outsiders, even other Hellknights.”

Traeve speaks slowly, clearly reluctant to suggest this."I really do mean suicide, not just 'kinda hard'. I also want to go on record that I am not suggesting this possibility as some underhanded means of betraying you to a grisly death, since I would be grisly along with you."

Taking a deep breath, he continues, adopting a professorial lecturing tone. "It is possible that there is a written record of these Knights of Ozem's travel through Cheliax. If it does exist, it would have been deemed forbidden knowledge, even during Aroden's time, and gathered up in a massive collection of heretical scrolls and banned lore. Such a collection was gathered nearby in 4580...in Citadel Rivad. Of course, then that collection was destroyed in the fire of 4589."

What you would know about Citadel Rivad, is that it is the oldest and most secure of the Hellknight fortresses, currently operated by the sadistic Order of the Rack. You passed its forbidding presence on your way down this road--it's only half a day's ride on the other side of Hinji, which is the next town on this highway.

Traeve doesn’t seem to notice, as his attention was on Morgana. With the presentation of the jar, however, his attention is focused. He casts detect magic and grits his teeth through the pain of magically scanning not one but two major artifacts. He studies it for a moment before ending the spell.

”Arazni’s spleen. Amazing. I’ve always been fascinated by the study of old artifacts. There are so many in Cheliax, though none of them contain the actual internal organ of a goddess.”

”I don’t know what became of the other three, of course. There is, possibly, a place nearby which might have some answers for you, but trying to get inside would be suicide, even for me.”

”May I…may I see it and use some magic to examine it?”

Nice recap, only one quibble: it was 100 years to the day from Aroden’s death to Masoumi’s ascension, not 150 plus, but I think you got that from my own text, so no worries.

1d20 + 10 ⇒ (14) + 10 = 24
For a long time, Traeve just sits, digesting Richard’s story. He doesn’t seem fazed by any of it.

”So you really do have a bloodstone of Arazni in your pocket. Those artifacts are believed to have been cloaked from divination by Aroden himself when the Knights stole them from Geb to prevent Arazni from finding and destroying them. Something about the only hope of saving her from her lichdom being tied to those artifacts. For centuries before Aroden died, Iomedaean adventurers used to search Cheliax and Taldor zealously for the bloodstones, never knowing whether they came north across (or apparently, through) the Arch, or through Taldor in the east. Of course, questing for them is now illegal in Cheliax, but I suppose we can let that slide.”

”Kreel. Braxton Kreel. I’ve heard that name. Pretty sure he was the commander of one of the many times Cheliax tried to conquer Absalom. That was a long time ago. Yes, right: he was an Asmodean, paired with a cleric of Aroden, and some sort of wizard. I don’t remember his name, but I think he survived the assault. The wizard, I mean. I assume the cloak of the Inheritor is the cloak Iomedae turned into a bridge to cross the chasm in Absalom in order to take the Starstone Test. I remember something about that cloak possessing the ability to do so again, though I don’t remember anything about it’s power to raise the dead. I assume that’s the very fine cloak gracing Edward’s shoulders right now?”

”I knew you four were no ordinary miscreants. You have one bloodstone: I assume you’re now on the trail of the other three?”

Eventually, even Traeve tires of the dancing and returns to the table to slake his thirst.

Rubbing a sore calf muscle, he says, ”You are an interesting group, and certainly nothing like what I would expect a collection of such faiths would be like. I know you still don’t trust me: my Lord has a well-deserved reputation in using hidden and obscure clauses in contracts and agreements to the detriment of one party, so you probably figure I’m doing the same. There’s probably nothing I can say or do to convince you otherwise. Still, I will ask again: will you please tell me what your purpose was inside the Arch? And how did you elude my magical detection for so long? Few individuals outside of the Chelish military (and Corentyn’s underworld) even know that the Arch is hollow, and you do not strike me as common treasure-hunters. I have a decent knowledge of Chelish history and lore, including from the time the Arch was built and in use. Perhaps I can help.”

Traeve smiles. ”That sounds like an interesting story I look forward to hearing at a later time.”

He stands, taking Morgana’s hand, and leading the way to a clear area. He is a very skilled and nimble dancer (+9 bonus) and clearly has fun. He’ll dance as long as Morgana is willing to partner with him.

"Morgana, my dear. Would you perhaps enjoy a dance?"

Traeve looks at Ty with mock outrage. ”Hey! You guys killed two of them, I only killed one. Besides, he was an evil Asmodeus worshipper. Probably ate babies for fun or something.”

Traeve leans over to Ty and whispers, ”You know, she might be winning that argument for you.”

He chuckles to himself.

”Of course.”

”The people of Cheliax don’t have anything to fear from Asmodeus, if they are loyal and sincere in their devotions. The same cannot be said for the ruling nobility, from whom they do, unfortunately, but the same can be said for many nations.”

”However, if you want to talk about gods who are truly vile, then yes, let’s discuss Abadar. There’s a god whose sole reason for being is to keep the rich and powerful rich and powerful.”

Traeve silently pokes the fire for a few moments, and then casts wall of text looks up at Ty with an expression of sincerity.

”When Aroden died, Cheliax fell into civil war. Endless factions fought other factions, and the chaos that a power vacuum creates threatened to destroy this country. Cheliax’s identity had been completely wrapped up in everything Aroden and without him we had no identity. We were an empire, vastly over-stretched, and our vassal states could smell our desperation. If we’d kept on fighting ourselves, they would have done worse than break free, they would have united to wipe us out. Probably not the worst fate you could imagine for the nation that is the world’s black sheep, right?”

”But there were people living here, just ordinary people, people who had never conquered anybody, never enslaved anybody, just people who were born, lived their lives, argued over the price of grain, wanted to make things better for their children, then died and started the cycle anew. Did they deserve to be wiped out prematurely in their beds. Was that karmic justice? Should we have spread our flag so far, conquered so many? Probably not, but we learned it from our fathers and their fathers before them, from father Taldor, and yes, from father Aroden, who was not as about puppy dogs and warm breezes as people today seem to think. You can’t judge the people of the past by the standards of today, no matter how much you might wish they’d made different choices.”

”So facing oblivion and worse, one faction made a deal with the devil, brought order, then used what they’d been given to establish it and make it permanent. My father served Asmodeus, his father served Asmodeus, his father served Asmodeus, and his father served Iomedae, but that’s another story. If I’d been born from your mother’s loins and you from mine, you would probably serve Asmodeus right now.”

”Some people say that our gods are polar extremes, that your god hates everything mine stands for and mine yours, and they’re probably right. Cayden Cailean values the freedoms of the individual no matter what, and what we’ve learned in the last 100 years of Chelish history is that individuals make bad choices, bad choices that hurt society, and that a society can’t grow or prosper when everybody just does what is right in their own eyes. Look at a Nirmathas: the freedom of the individual is so important there that they barely have any laws, there’s no government, and no organization. A bunch of scattered settlements connected by dirt roads that can’t ever agree on anything, except they don’t want Molthune to conquer them, though don’t ask them to agree on how to prevent it. The country is twenty years old as can barely function. That’s what an obsessive lust for personal freedoms gets you: dirt roads and neighbours that try to eat you.”

”As for Taldor, that’s a nation that died long ago and just won’t admit that it’s dead. They glorify their past as if that will somehow inspire their future. They revel in sentiment, worship it. Have you ever tried to walk forwards in the woods while looking non-stop over your shoulder? That’s Taldor, that’s sentiment. That’s what Asmodeus opposes. This is Cheliax today, right now. It has strengths and it has problems. My job is to fortify its strengths and eliminate its weaknesses without letting nostalgia or ease get in the way. That’s what it means to be a follower of Asmodeus…or at least it should be. Slitting some halfling’s neck so some devil will let you have a better singing voice, or offering your soul for twenty years of a full coin purse is not, but those are the parts of Asmodeus worship, the twisting of it, that the world sees, because those are the stories the outsiders tell.”

Traeve smiles at Ty. ”Are you asking me about the finer points of Asmodean theology, or are you asking me how could I be so stupid to worship a god who’s going to send me to hell as a reward for service?”

”Assuming I serve well and faithfully, championing law and order without the weakness of sentiment, when I arrive in Hell, it will be in a position of privilege and authority. In the meantime, service to Asmodeus comes with certain perks and privileges here in Cheliax and I can do some good keeping destructive chaotic forces at bay.”

”Being a true follower of Asmodeus means more than blood rites and sacrificing virgins on altars…something many of the Chelish elite will learn to their despair when they arrive at the ends of their lives.”

Traeve reiterates what he said here concerning Macini.

Morgana laughs, "Fair point. Though, I confess, your admission fills me with even more questions about how all that lines up in your own mind -- and the true state of things here from someone who can see under the skirts. I suppose, if nothing else, such talks may become a pleasant way to pass time on the road."

Traeve takes her hand and bows formally over it. "I look forward to it."

"About ten days. Barring any complications, we should arrive in Westcrown on the 14th of Kuthona, it being the 4th now, if you've lost track of the days."

Traeve smiles reassuringly and gently and briefly places a few fingers on her forearm. ”My dear, don’t fret yourself. You would probably be surprised to find out how much we both agree on the nature, strengths and many, many failings of Cheliax the nation, its history, and its current leadership. I serve House Thrune because in Chelish society that is what’s done, but I have no love for them. I serve Asmodeus principal above all other allegiances. I’m sure we would vehemently disagree on the virtues of Infernal worship, and neither of us are going to convince each other to switch divine obeisance, so perhaps neither of us should try, and in so doing, spoil what has been a most pleasant conversation.”

"You'd think we would have learned our lessons from Taldor's history."

Traeve shakes his head. ”When you’ve been the world’s bully for five centuries, you don’t think you can get bullied yourself. Many believe Asmodeus will crush this new god and be done with him, but they forget that Asmodeus values strength and order, not sitting on your butt waiting to be delivered. One of these days, Cheliax is going to wake up and find out that the Lord of Hell is sick and tired of entitled nobility treating him like some sort of genie. ‘My serfs need a new farm, so let’s get drunk and sacrifice a virgin.’ Disgusting!”

Morgana, welcome back!

Traeve nods, letting his mirth settle. "The Way has been spreading by ship, mostly on merchant vessels sailing out of Absalom. There must have already been a following of Masoumi in Rahadoum before he attempted the Starstone Test--I gather he was already something of a local folk hero there, so popular that his Iomedae leanings weren't enough to have him arrested or excommunicated--because within a month of his Ascension, there were rumours of a religious holy civil war in the Nation of Man. It was all very hush hush and insular, which if you know anything about Rahadoum isn't surprising, and just last month, merchant ships from Rahadoum prominently flew flags of Masoumi's holy symbol. It was just the day before I left Westcrown that we heard reports from Chelish spies that Karsakim was dead, and that Rahadoum had built massive shipyards. Rahadoum is a desert nation, so nobody knows where the wood for all these ships is supposed to come from. They could be importing it over the Barrier Wall from the Mwangi Expanse, but that would be difficult. Invading Cheliax and plundering the Barrowwood or Whisperwoods would be easier, but they would need a coastal foothold in Cheliax to do it, like Westcrown. If Westcrown were to fall to the Way, it would open up the Barrowwood to exploitation by Rahadoum, forcing the Chelish navy to blockade its own city to keep lumber shipments from getting out. In some ways, it's a blessing that the Arch fell when it did. If The Way had any inkling to somehow repair the breach, they could have marched over and had free rein in the heartland of Cheliax before our military could be mustered. The Chelish military isn't quite what it once was, sadly to say."

”Its a useful power to be sure, and impressive that you’ve mastered the ability to maintain it for a long time. I mean, it’s not like you have a bloodstone of Arazni in your pocket or anything!” Traeve laughs. It’s a weird sensation to hear the intense man laugh in amusement, though not unpleasant.

”Descriptions from the guards at the foot of the span, divinations, and a speak with dead from a soldier we fished out of the water. What I can’t figure out is how you were able to block the tracking spell. I caught a signal from you briefly one day and must have been within a block of you, but then I lost you.”

Having geared up the horses, Traeve says, ”Since you got to Corentyn by land along the Erineyes Way, you must have passed through Hinji and Macini. I strongly recommend we avoid Macini by going around the town. It is a very efficiently-run town, and I’m afraid I had already sent ahead a description of the four of you, in case you managed to get away. There will be a lot of questions for any group of four or five people arriving from the south, which could include magical divination. The forces there keep the countryside safe, however, and quite free of bandits, so we should be fine to skirt around town.”

”I recommend the opposite concerning Hinji.” Traeve scowls at mention of that town. ”A despicable place, ruled by a weakling, though in reality, ruled by rival drug lords who are the true power there. The official forces will give us no trouble and the rug lords aren’t looking for us. The countryside there isn’t safe, so going around Hinji is a bad idea. Everything else along the highway are just small hamlets and market villages, that shouldn’t give us any difficulties.”

Traeve and the three Hellknights were riding the horses that had been pulling their wagon before it was destroyed. They just cut them loose from the wreckage and rode them. That’s why you have only 4, but they’re heavy horses, so they could carry the two lightest people (Ty and Morgana).

”I don’t have names, but it has to be somebody high up in their leadership. The Way in Westcrown is way too tuned in to the resistance’s activities to not have at least one person on the inside. The Wescrani resistance has the hearts and minds of the common folk, so if they fall to Masoumi, the city will go, too, then my superiors will have to send in waves of Hellknights to restore order and neither of us want that kind of carnage.”

Traeve smiles at Ty, and not unpleasantly. ”I did know. Your disguise was great, but it can’t block magic detection. But if I attacked you right there, the stable man would have known he was compromised, and then Ms. Chavers would have had to change her operation and I’d have had to wait a week before we had her new routine figured out. Iomedae clerics have no business dealing with subterfuge and underground operations, though I think one of the leaders of the Westcrown resistance is an Iomedae cleric, so maybe it’s just Ms. Chavers.”

Traeve eyes Ty carefully, but seems to relax a bit.

”We should make our way down road for awhile before making camp. I instructed my other men to procure horses and follow. I would prefer not to have to kill any more loyal Chelish soldiers if it can be avoided.”

I think it’s safe to start using this alias.

”I had hoped to start by thwarting Masoumi’s influence in destabilizing the church of Asmodeus. I have intelligence that suggests the Chelish underground in Westcrown has been infiltrated by The Way. For obvious reasons, I would never be able to make successful contact there, but with me as your prisoner, you might. The Wescrani resistance is a respectable organization, unlike what laughably passes for an underground network in Corentyn. The Thin Wisps keep them from getting too big and too organized. Iomedae’s Trollop and the fat stable man make up the bulk of it. Yes, we know about their little operation smuggling foreign clerics off ships and into the countryside. It’s helpful to know exactly how they’ll be leaving the city. Anyhow, if we can make it to Westcrown and you can make contact with Janiven or Arael, the leaders there, we can purge one major Chelish organization of Masoumi’s influence.”