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Tatya nods. "I shall say Jonas had difficulty sleeping due to the rumors of treachery and bloodshed and remained behind in the inn under the effects of a soporific. That explains his absence while giving you the option of reappearing under his appearance and saying you just woke up should your new one prove particularly unwelcome in Aldencross."
Tatya pauses at the door. "Will you speak as Jonas the merchant," she asks, "or in another guise? Should we attend as your known allies and traveling companions or as strangers?"
"Well," Tatya replies, rising to her feet, "I have no expertise either at moving corpses or at skulking through the darkness. If you've something I can do to help, inform me in the morning. I need my rest." She starts to her room.
"It is well and good to set the villagers at each other's throats," Tatya warns, "and every soldier's eye turned inward is one less turned outward when the time is ripe. Yet if we draw too much scrutiny upon the people of Aldencross, how long will it be before they become suspicious of strangers and newcomers? We have some protection in our guise as slaves of their goddess, but it cannot be denied that we arrived just before the trouble started and that they know nothing of us but what we have caused to be known. We must guard our own well-being even as we carry out our mission." She sighs. "How long before the Cardinal's allies are in place? How much longer must we maintain this charade?"
"If they are hunting Hogan and his rescuers, they may well begin to search outlying farms and buildings," Tatya warns. "We ought not be here if they come. I would hate to lose my cauldron, but better they think the aged widow is their poison-brewing witch than continue to ferret out culprits. Morthos, my cauldron can be replaced if need be; our master's sword cannot. Bring it with you; we will have to find a hiding place for it in town. No Desnan could wield that sword; if they were to find it here, they would know they are hunting the wrong quarry."
She smiles wanly. "Then it would seem that the Cardinal was wise to add me to your group of escaped convicts." Despite her dispassionate words, she seems to take a measure of pride in her part in the touch-and-go victory. "I was given a choice, you know," she goes on after a moment, "to join you or the White Ravens. Although I could not be sure that, by expressing a preference for the one, I might not be assigned to the other. It would have been a test of obedience. Everything the Cardinal does is a test. I will be glad when we are done with this one," she waves a hand vaguely to take in Aldencross, Balentyne, and the whole countryside. "I am hardly burning with enthusiasm to be caught between the king's soldiers on one side and a horde of ravenous monsters on the other. And I need to replenish my poisons. Much of my contribution to the cause is accomplished at my cauldron, before we reach the battlefield." She smiles with satisfaction. "Still," she admits, "they have proven ... efficacious."
Safely within the walls of the Widow Drexler's home, Tatya reclaims her own likeness from the iron circlet with a sigh of relief. "Relieve him of anything of value before he comes to," she advises. "I presume we have done with the pretense that he is anything but our prisoner?" she inquires of Bostarg.
"What now?" she demands nervously. "We cannot be found on the road like this ... and how will we prevent them from tracking us?"
Tatya takes the sword, potion, key, and tanglefoot bags, then hurries over to the others. "His armor is well-made though not magically enhanced. Likely worth a pretty penny, but I doubt we have time to remove him from it. And selling it in town is out of the question, no?" Presenting her father's unholy symbol, she touches Alazandaru and begins the incantation to call on the forces of Hell to heal his wounds.
Tatya quickly goes through the Captain's belongings, trying to stay out of the widening pool of blood spilling from his slashed throat, using detect magic to aid her in her search for valuables that can be pressed into the Cardinal's service. In addition to magic and money, she looks for more mundane items such as papers or keys that might help in their mission to infiltrate the fortress.
Morthos should have dealt with these lackeys by now! Tatya frowns as the soldier steps in to seek his revenge on Alazandaru. She focuses her ire on him, seeking to slow his sword before he can finish what the late captain started.
Almost numb with relief, Tatya forces her rubbery legs to move, as she comes up behind Alazandaru and tries to find an place on his shoulder to lay her trembling hand that's not covered with his own blood. "Well done," she murmurs, leaving the gnome's honeyed tongue to snare the Desnan. "My Master has a balm for your wounds."
As Barhold nearly cuts Alazandaru in two, the heavy sword's blow leaving him barely standing, Tatya begins to panic. This plan was foolishness! The whole mission will fail. What punishment will the Cardinal devise for such abject failure? Should I run? Where can I run that they won't find me? How long before they break Alazandaru if he is taken alive and he betrays us all? Feeling that their only hope is the poison on Alazandaru's blades, she moves toward the road and fixes Barhold with her evil eye, cursing his resistance to her soporific concoction. In her guise as a Desnan guerilla, she countermands the Captain's order: "No, Brother Hogan! This way to rescue! Only the Iomedaeans need fear our Lady's vengeance."
"I wish we could set aflame a huge symbol of Asmodeus in one of these fields," Tatya murmurs to Morthos as her glowing marionette cavorts idiotically around the countryside. "That would get the attention of these sheep, put the fear of Hell in them. I suppose that wouldn't be subtle enough for the gnome, however. And we are supposed to be pinning this on Desna. Perhaps a butterfly with fiery wings?" she muses.
She shrugs. "I'm assuming you want a distraction to the south and west while Alazanadaru climbs up from the south and east to attract the attention of the guards on the south wall away from the river and the tower?"
Tatya narrows her eyes as she considers. "You want this distraction near Balentyne itself? Something to draw the men out of the watchtower, or merely to attract their attention? I have no skill at eluding pursuit or covering tracks."
So we're all Diplomacying to gather information? "Margoleine" will try to find out where the town matrons gather to gossip and take 10 on Diplomacy to find out about Mott and Barhold in particular and any other rumors about Balentyne in general.
"A cat?" she suggests dryly.
"'Mad Martin?'" Tatya repeats, a single questioning eyebrow raised. "Sounds promising. What can not plausibly be blamed on a previously-harmless-seeming eccentric?"
She shrugs. "Then there is nothing to do but purchase it, in sufficient quantities. You don't need me for that, simply a story of rat infestation. If you wish to implicate the Desnans, however, we ought to wait until they have a grudge against the Iomedaeans -- or, at the very least, identify who among the Desnans we wish to have known to have rat poison on hand to which he might turn when wronged. In the meantime, I will see to the bloodroot."
She sighs. "My options are limited, given what the herbalist has available. Arsenic is openly sold to kill vermin; it would weaken but not kill men. The symptoms are similar to cholera so the incident might not even arouse suspicion -- unless we wished to implicate the Desnans in the affair. Alternatively, I could mix up some belladonna which would impair the soldiers' strength but is not lethal. Oil of taggit is a lovely concoction but takes effect more quickly, and all it does is induce unconsciousness. Introduced at the right moment, it could make our incursion into Balentyne far simpler -- but our allies would have to be ready to strike."
Tatya gives Aedorn's enthusiasm a distasteful sideways glance. "Tatya - good work setting up your workshop... can you brew poison that might be slipped into rations if it is needed, and also is there an ichor that could be put to a blade and easily identified?" "Something blatantly obvious to frame someone with, you mean? Bloodroot should be sufficiently amateurish if you mean solely to incriminate someone with it; it's not strong enough for my liking to use in earnest. As for ingested poisons, what is your aim: to kill, to debilitate, or merely to put some portion of the soldiery out of commission for an opportune time?"
She shrugs. "Then prepare your note or journal quickly; once the sword's absence is discovered, the smithy will be crawling with soldiers and on high alert, making it difficult to plant your evidence. Just be sure the web you weave is not so convoluted you trap all of us in it; there is much to be said for simplicity. Have we time to spirit the sword away tonight, or ought we to wait until dawn? A morning constitutional might seem less unusual than one from which Sister Margoleine returns after dark."
"Do we know what this Varning looks like? It should be simple for one of you to appear in a similar guise near dusk and be seen entering the smithy when it is otherwise empty. Would it not be better if it looked as if Varning killed the smith in the process of stealing the blade? What do we gain from making the death look self-chosen?"
Tatya smiles as she finishes her examination of the blade. "We haven't stolen this blade at all: We have taken rightful possession of it. Years ago, before the rise of the dynasty of the present king, this sword was wielded by a holy knight whose goal was the destruction of the servants of the Lord of Hell. He lived near what is now Ghastenhall, but when he returned to his home one eve, he found his keep ransacked and his people missing. Going out to search for them, he met a priest of the Archfiend and intended to kill him, but the cleric offered him a deal: his divinations to discover the knight's missing family in exchange for the holy man's sword." "The contract was drawn in blood and the bargain sealed. The knight went his way without the blade that had slain devils. At first, no one in the Dark Prince's service could even wield the blade, but a new hilt was constructed, dark rituals performed to inhibit the holy power and corrupt the blade to the service of Asmodeus: these jagged blades erupted, these gems soaked in the sacrificial blood of the God-Fiend's loyal servants set." "The enhancement in itself is minor, but once a day, a follower of the Ruler of Hell may tear grievous wounds with the corrupted sword. Each man who has borne it since it was purchased by our church has done his part to wrestle it further away from its initial purpose." She holds the sword out to Morthos, a smirk on her lips. "Wield it well ... if you think you are worthy."
"We ought to relocate this to Widow Dressler's until it is needed, ought we not?" Tatya asks of the sword. "If its loss is discovered, we hardly want it found in our possession. I wonder... can we blame the theft of the sword on the Iomedaeans? The one of us who will bear Sir Eldon's holy symbol: Perhaps their superior from the home office is appalled at the laxity of the local temple in allowing such an evil artifact to remain in civilian hands? If the loss is not immediately discovered, we might prepare a false writ to pin to the kicked-in door informing the smith his sword has been confiscated for safe-keeping? That ought to sow discord."
Tatya has time to do little more than make a positive judgment on the suitability of the place for her purposes. They have still to report back to Bostarg, and Aedorn has a date with a house of ill repute....
Grabbing his bow, Aedorn smiles genuinely at Tatya. "Ah, it's not so bad. At least we're not cramped in that boat." As they exit the inn, he looks down the road and continues in a low voice. "Do we just saunter down the road or would you prefer to approach by steath? I think it would be better if less people knew where we were going, so we may want to stay off the road. Mind you might dirty your dress a bit though." "I suppose the gnome can clean it for me," she says grudgingly. "If I'm off admiring the beauty of nature," (she rolls her eyes), "I dare say I ought to come back with the nastiest bits of it clinging to my skirts. Once we find the house, I'll continue by road while you follow under concealment. I have no gift of stealthiness, and it were best I knock on her door frankly and draw her out in the open for you. I have a dagger here in my skirts if needed to finish the job." While Tatya is checking out the house, he will look for a ditch or pit he can dump the body in so she doesn't stink up the place. Before Aedorn disposes of the old woman, Tatya studies her face closely. If needed to avoid suspicion, she wishes to be able to take on the crone's appearance with her iron circlet. "A pity we haven't the Cardinal's capacities," she sighs. "Animated, her corpse could provide a bit of assistance and security."
Tatya looks a little askance at the halfling. "Let us hope this old woman is no more than she seems. Six miles of tramping through the countryside," she grimaces at the prospect. "What I wouldn't give for a civilized carriage."
"This trapdoor in the ceiling, where does it come out?" Tatya frowns, laying her finger on the notation in Aedorn's vault and looking for a correlation elsewhere on the map.
"It would be wise to have a second base of operations anyway," Tatya opines. "Should any of us become compromised, we will have somewhere to go other than the inn." She glances appraisingly at Aedorn. "We two should be able to handle a crazy old woman, unless there is more to her than the village knows. The rumors about eccentric old hermits are sometimes more than rumors."
Having spent some time making casual inquiries about the outlying farms in the common room, "Margoleine" returns to the suite upstairs to impart what she has learned. "There's a crazy old widow who lives some six miles from town," she reports proudly. "Lived alone for ten years and visited only once a month when she receives supplies; her bitterness and growing dementia have driven away any friends she used to have. If we can eliminate her, the property could serve our purpose." She pulls a face. "I suppose now I'll actually have to go out and tramp through their wretched countryside to keep up appearances."
"Have we nothing we could break and ask him to fix?" she asks. "A spare weapon or the like? It ought to be de rigueur to ask for a written receipt if we were to leave our belongings in his possession. I will see about taking a constitutional to the outskirts of town," she agrees. "I am already known as an herbalist; it would not be unusual for a healer to go out in search of local plants and berries that might be of use." She pauses. "I wore the witch-hunter's holy symbol to the apothecary shop today, and he recognized it as unique to the Knights of the Allerion. I told him it was a gift to my late father in gratitude for some service to the temple. What lies we are forced to tell it would be well to share, lest we provoke suspicion by contradicting each other."
"I would certainly prefer a location with fewer potential distractions. My work suffers interruptions poorly and tends to leave lingering aromas and stains. By the way," she informs "Jonas," "if anyone should ask, you have trouble sleeping and require me to steep medicinal doses to ease your business-addled mind into rest. The herbalist has a great deal of arsenic mixed up as rat poison, should we desire it, although it would be best to purchase it under another guise if we need it before the end; in the face of widespread sickening and death, they will undoubtedly remember who recently claimed a rodent infestation."
Tatya frowns. "Seventy years ago, a cardinal in the Inheritor's sheep-pen named Tadhg summoned outsiders from the good-aligned planes to fill his choirloft and protect his flock. They called him the 'Singing Saint.' The text I read didn't specify his location, but if what you say is true, it must have been here at Balentyne. The old fool is long dead, of course, but apparently his summoned songbirds still roost in the chapel. Their presence could be problematic."
Tatya racks her brain trying to think of any phenomena that might explain the chapel's 'singing saints': whether an actual heavenly presence, a resident ghost or outsider, or some sort of arcane trickery to enhance the fame and prestige of Balentyne. She also tries to remember if she's read anything about the history of Balentyne's chapel that might deal with their past appearances of the apparition or whence it might have originated.
Jonas allows his passage back to the inn to weave and wend back past the brothel that he spied earlier... merely to gauge whether the den of iniquity hides itself during the day. He's just passing by for the articles. ;) Also, I forgot to add my attribute increase. Should be fixed now; I put it in Dex to help her AC.
Finally got Tatya leveled up. I'd feel worse about the delay if it didn't look like everyone but Morthos was still level 3. ;)
*pssst* Aedorn! We could totally turn them in for 300 gp! ;)
With a grimace, Tatya switches out her unholy symbol for the silver and sapphire pendant stolen from from the body of Sir Eldon. "Then I am once again a healer and servant of virtue," she sighs. "Not Estella; she's supposed to be with the Yutak. If it got abroad that she was seen in Aldencross with a group of merchants, it might draw attention. I will be Margoleine, hideously boring do-gooder hired on with travelers to escape the monotony of her little life."
"And what are the rest of us to be? Your bodyguards and hirelings? I know nothing of weaponry, either to purchase or to wield."
"If anyone were to discover the remains of the hulk, it might look less suspicious if the unfortunates within were still armed and armored," Tatya agrees. "Less like a crime and more a tragic accident. I suggest leaving some of the less valuable loose coin in the captain's chest as well. Now," she turns to Bostarg, "whence shall we say we have we traveled? And why have we come to this village on the edge of nowhere?" She looks around at the frigid landscape and shivers.
"Finish the other one," Tatya instructs, "and then let's get anything of value off the ship before we burn it. Remember, His Eminence wants the coin he paid for our passage returned." With a grimace of distaste, she gingerly begins to check Odenkirk's pockets.
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