Once in the room but before Arnold departs she gives him a sheepish smile, “I think Orshallan truly wants me to go to the evening services but I’m not sure I know what to do.” Her hands twist upon the him of her dress in distress as she continues her plea, “I would hate to embarrass myself, or my importantly to embarrass the High Righteousness himself.”
Her blue eyes finish her plea for help, “Can you teach me what I need to know and do?”
"Of course!" Arnold says, perhaps a little too quickly. With a bit of a blush, he rummages through his pocket until he comes up with a small book.
"This is what the novices use to help them memorize the various ceremonies. If you haven't been here before, don't worry about the prayers. Just listen to them sincerely and Heironeous will hear you. Watch the others when they stand, sit, and kneel. There are some older lords and ladies who move a bit more slowly, so you're not going to stick out when you don't do it automatically," he says kindly, seeming happy to help.
~~~
*Ralam leaves the meeting room and goes to see Pellek, one of the guild's information brokers. He will ask for all available information on the target.*
*In asking for one of the spies, the Guild member there ponders for a moment, and then snaps his finger.*
"I know a woman who can find out anything about anyone, Lady Eradiel. I'll get a message to her spymaster, and you'll have some kind of answer later tonight."
~~~
*Eradiel, later in the evening Devon comes to you with a simple written request from Kaj Mok, a middleman for one of the illegal guilds. Assassin, Thief, or any of the others, it really did not matter. It seems that Kaj has a fellow guildmember that needs information on one Lasket Pardoran, brother of Killian, son of the late Captain of the Watch Killian Pardoran Sr. The guildmember would like a face-to-face meeting if possible, but it is not a requirement.*
~~~
*Gwyn reaches into the man's mouth and tears his tongue out.*
"You shouldn't go calling people devils; it upsets them, and then look what happens."
*Gwyn will play with the first man, seeing if his story changes or has discrepancies, for the hours until he is again able to use his Mortal Skin ability. When he can shapeshift, he inflicts a gut-wound on the man (enough to kill him, but not for an hour or so), ensures that the overconfident one is quite dead, and uses the tongue to assume the second man's form. He then returns to Wode and gives his report.*
*The second man screams in muted agony thrashing and howling until blood loss and pain work their magic on him.*
*In the interim you amuse yourself by seeing how far the first man's joints can stretch, and in what directions. Unfortunetly one of his elbows went entirely out of joint and you sigh with disgust at the flaw in your technique. The man's story doesn't change his story, so you continue on by squeezing together his joints and bones, seeing how far you can go until they
almost break. It's a fine art, and takes a keen ear to hear the bones creak, and you had to suffocate the second man to stop his incessant moaning so you could work. The only other pieces of information you get out of the first man is when you use a piece of leather wrapped tighter and tighter around his skull.*
"Orshallan said, said, he said," the man pants, each word an effort against the pain in his head, "said that he wanted, wanted to get, the greatest heroes- ah! in Low'verok to capture the Baroness, not kill her. He, he, he, wants to convert her."
*Further tightening, even with a foot stamped in the groin doesn't change his story or elict any new information, so you gag him again, flip out a knife and stab him in the gut, leaving him moaning on the ground. Taking the form of the second priest, you return to the Hydra's glass well after nightfall. You get many odd glances from people as you enter, but Wode's guardians let you through to see it soon enough.*
"Interesting enough, I should wonder. Interesting indeed," Wode comments as your story, its voice lifeless as always, but its eyes wider than normal. That's a sign that something is probably seriously wrong. "I'll have need of you within two days, don't leave the area."
*Wode pushes over the rest of your payment, its mind obviously on something else, and waves for you to go.*
~~~
*Aekir, you spend several days seeking weaknesses for vermin to get into the palace. It seems there are spells that keep out most vermin, but they are not perfect. It's far easier to penetrate into the castle ground in the form of a cat. To get into the building... well, changing into a rat and wiggling down a waste pipe is the easiest, if the dirtiest. Down there, you can kill other rats to keep you in your inocuous shape. A few dead rats won't matter too much, though you do shove them down waste pipes, drains, and drag them into shadowed corners when you can.*
*The first lower stories of the palace are those above the river, and contain nothing more than storerooms. However, you do discover two cunningly concealed doors that lead to staircases down. You see several well-dressed men and women go down there, often with the scent of power upon them. Following them down, you realize you must be in the great stone columns that hold the palace up over the Tonver River. The soft sound of water is all around you, rushing in your ears. You're convinced that more than simply stone and mortar holds these columns up. The force of magic here is almost palpable. You can feel it on your skin like sunlight. And you have a deep seated certainty that to change your form while within here would be a terrible mistake.*
*The columns themselves hold rooms that various wizards, alchemists, and other arcanists work in. Each door is made of metal and obviously heavily warded, but nowhere have you seen any hint of the mysterious knights. The few glimpses of experiments you see or hear people talking about sound complicated, technical, and entirely unlike what you're looking for.*
*You press downward, feeling the magic and power on your back and under your feet. It's unpleasent and could even be called unnerving. At the end of the columns you slip through a large mental door when one of the oldest wizards opens it. You must be under the Tonver River itself, you can hear the faint roar of water above you, pressing down...*
*Drips of water fall from the ceiling, splattering on the dozens of crypts down here. Here is where the bodies of the royal families of Low'verok sleep forever. Aside from the paths that come from the entrances into the two columns, the rest is a vast underground graveyard, done in the styles of ages past. The closest to the columns are the oldest, and radiating out from them are the tombs of the newer kings. In the vast graveyard, silence and shadow reign supreme. Balls of glowing witchlight hover over some tombs, the final gift from the wizard-kings of old, while others shine with a holy light from some of the god-touched kings. Illusions of some of the monarchs, commisioned by them in their dying days and executed by their court magicians, have them sleeping peacefully, or endlessly paying court to ghosts long gone.*
*You search amongst the endless graveyard for several days until you figure out where the wizards were going. Many of them clothed themselves in invisibility the moment they got down here, or turned themselves into mist or other such things. Whatever they were doing down here, they did not want anyone to know. Upon occasion some of the more distant royal blood would come here to pay respect to their ancestors, and the magicians avoided them most of all. It was when one wizard turned himself into a rat to conceal himself that you were able to follow. You had to hide carefully and tail him with the utmost care, for the man was remarkably wary. Finally the rat arrived at one of the newest tomb, the one carved for the current monarchs when they finally passed.*
*He seemed to go right through the granite side. Following suit, you found it to be an illusion covering a set of stairs downward. Down the stairs was a chamber dug neatly out of the bedrock. A magical circle of some kind was inlaid on the floor in silver and gold, painted around with blood and herbs. As you watched that day, the magicans arrived and arranged themselves around the circle, each pricking themselves with a crystal dagger and adding a smear of blood to the circle. Raising their arms, they chanted.*
Iana-lay, tular mulor. Aylon, aybra, aibo, istia amor... On and on they chanted, in a language lyrical and beautiful, all the while the circle glowing with power. The purity of the light hurt your eyes, and you could feel your fur beginning to scortch with the power they were raising.
*The power came to a terrible note of purity, and with a flash of blinding light, all returned to darkness. After a single moment, you could see what they were summoning. A man dressed as a knight, in shining full plate, a plumed helmet, and a long cloak with a device of a crown and throne on it. It was he that was now providing the source of light in the room, for he was glowling slightly. He turned and looked at each of the wizards, his eyes blank white and glowing with power, his face stern and unyielding.*
*The knight turns to the side of the room to your right, and what you thought was a solid wall suddenly reveals itself to be anything but. Candles flare to life, revealing a woman in a royal gown of gold and red, jewels around her neck and fingers, red velvet cloak around her shoulder and pooling on the floor, golden crown on her golden head, seated in throne of carved white marble. Her eyes are closed, and while she seems to be breathing, she hasn't reacted to the light at all. A glass or crystal box of some sort surrounds her entirely, preventing anyone from touching her. The knight steps forward and unsheaths his sword, going to one knee in a sign of fidelity; he is pledging himself to her.*
*This done, he bows his head and vanishes in a flash of light, the woman and throne disappearing into the black again.*
