Sir Montague Belarand follows along in prayer and lays silent as Nme'an reads the passages aloud. One or twice, he recognizes the verse and recites the rest from memory as the half-elf continues. As the Knight Lieutenant closes the book, the middle-aged man wipes bloody water from his sunken eyelids.
"Thank you, Nme'an. That means a great deal to me. Now I shall rest and hopefully find some peace..."
When Nme'an lays a hand on the Knight Captain's head, he feels the healing power flow down his arm and into his palm. But as the energy fades, he gets the sense that it did help Sir Montague at all.
Lesser Restoration did not seem to work. Roll Spellcraft.
Sir Montague pauses when he feels the hand on his head, but then relaxes when nothing seems to come of it.
"If this is not a long and elaborate ruse," he says sleepily, "And you are Nme'an, and truly did defeat the cruel people in this tower, you have done what I could not. I am proud of you. And I wish there was some way I could repay this debt of gratitude. But..." Montague's face twists with sadness. He rolls over to one side to make himself more comfortable. "I think a long sleep is in order before addressing these things. I have so many questions, as I am sure you do. We will have to wait..."
Unless he is disturbed, Montague will rest until the following morning. It will be noon (12pm) after the hour of reading with Montague.
The middle-aged knight nods at the talk of sleep. "I haven't had a full night of rest since we camped in the jungle many weeks ago, months, maybe? Time went so slowly. I would like to pray first, as long as my tired body will hold out..."
He lifts his hands and fumbles around until he rests one on Nme'an's shoulder. "If you would guide me, brother. I cannot see."
“Correct...” Sir Montague's tone indicates that he is not fully convinced. Nevertheless, he answers the following questions.
“We did not know anyone was in the tower, just a lonely, foul-tempered brute living off the lake. We paid the man in gold and he ferried us across in two trips. I knew he was evil of heart, but gruff as he was, the Urlghain seemed scared of us and kept to himself. He was glad when the last of us stepped off his boat at the base of the tower. It seemed unwise to confront him, if he was to be our way off the island. I should have killed him where he stood!”
“They caught us unawares: the mad shadowfolk, that sorceress’ mind magic, the dervish goblin, and the wizard and his apprentice. It might have been a fair fight if that big-armed brute had not followed us up the tower, and cut down so many of my brothers, already ragged from spell and steel…” Sir Montague’s face twists with rage that quivers his scarred face. “'What happened?' I failed my charge that day, Nme’an. I could not protect the Prince. I could not bring evil to justice. I could not return with that damned spellbook!”
He turns his eyeless face to Themp’s general direction with a sneer. “Slap me all you wish, stranger. With all I have endured, your slappings will merely tickle.”
Nme’an:
Sense Motive
Sir Montague still reserves some distrust toward the voice of his former squire. It is possibly a residual effect of the endless torture subjected to him. Given the short interaction with Eleanor, and the briefest exchange from the shadow men, it seems likely that they toyed with his mind on a regular basis.
Religion
Nme’an can’t be sure, but Sir Montague’s lamentations are so severe, it is possible that he implies the ultimate dishonor for a Dawnflower knight: the loss of divine blessing bestowed on their holy order. Most often, these occur with a violation of the code of honor; Nme’an remembers a recent and personal brush with those limitations. There are other ways a Dawnflower knight could be cut off from the powers granted by their patron goddess, but it requires strong magic of someone cruel. Roll Spellcraft to recall what kinds of spells could force something like that.
Heal
Nme’an knows that Sir Montague is not himself, and the more he listens, the more he suspects that some part of his mind was damaged. Sir Montague seems too rash and out of control of his emotions. Tortured since his capture, it is no surprise to see the older knight’s bones under his skin, where a muscular and healthy frame once supported him. A weakened state like that took a toll on his innards, which Nme’an also suspects to be doing poorly. Lastly, the half-elf recalls to mind his feeble attempt to escape. Doubtless, being held in bonds and malnourished has made the man slower to react, too.
Sir Montague appears to be dealing with damage to his Strength, Dexterity, Constitution, and Wisdom scores.
Something in the thief's words plainly disheartens Sir Montague. He stifles a sob and stops where he lays on the floor. He remains silent when he hears more of what Nme’an has to say. Face down on the ground, one his his hands balls into a fist and he strikes the floor once.
“So many dead! And dishonor weighs on the living!” he wails. With some effort he twists over to put his back to the wall and slowly pushes himself up to standing. A solemn scarred face, with a furrowed brow, turns to Nme’an’s general direction, and he points a finger, not quite at the half-elf.
“You, I hear no lie in your voice, but I fear some magic to fool me is afoot! Or worse, you have captured my former squire and torture him too! But I know him better than you. Answer me this without hesitation and I will know the truth:
“The name of Nme’an’s living brother.”
His weak body maintains a stance that might dash again at any second, but for now, he is still and listens.
Nme’an:
The answer Sir Montague is listening for is “Hev'an Aldael”. The Knight Captain often traded stories of upbringing with his squire, and from time to time would encourage the Dawnflower initiate to write home in hopes of repairing any soured relations with his elven family near Brakton. At the moment, Nme’an recalls that Sir Montague’s father and forefathers also served in the Order of Dawnflower, faithful devotees to the kings of their time. The middle-aged man was practically born into the order of knights, and followed that tradition with pride. Sir Montague also has a wife and small child in Thaleniel, but the half-elf does not remember their names at the moment.
An Intelligence check might recall the names of Montague's family.
The Knight Captain Sir Montague that Nme’an knows is not so easily disturbed by a rebuke like that of Themp’s. He is a paragon of strong will and character, capable as any at skill in combat. Aside from the grievous state of his body, something else is clearly wrong with Nme’an’s former mentor.
Roll Sense Motive, Knowledge (religion), and a Heal check.
Nme’an tears the cover away to reveal sunken, sagging eyelids! Bloody cuts around his eye sockets and the darkness behind the lids indicate that Sir Montague’s eyes are no longer there. The pull also loosens cloth that was stuffed into his ears, and the blind old knight halts when he hears a familiar voice. His posture relaxes somewhat, obviously confused. He swats his hands in Nme’an’s general direction. “Get back! This is a trick, some devilry of you shadowfolk!”
Acrobatics:1d20 - 1 ⇒ (10) - 1 = 9
Sir Montague throws himself to one side of Nme’an in an attempt to get around him, perhaps to the door, but his foot snags a leg of the bed and he falls face first onto the stone floor. “Ooph!”
He claws at the ground toward the door!
Montague is prone and still agitated. His movement provokes an AoO from Nme'an and Themp. Beorae arrives in the room if she likes (Montague's position might change her mind). Themp and Nme’an are up!
