Fantasy —INHERIT THE EARTH

[leviathan.]

— REACTION POST.

MToki

There came no response. Perhaps the people or person on the other side didn't want to give themselves away. Or perhaps there wasn't even another person on the line. It seems like only the dual virtues of time and patience will solve this mystery for good.

 

[persephonelied]

Perric looks down at the stone the woman mentioned and opens his grip, studying its contours resting in his palm. "I'm... not sure. It's not mine. It's, it's..." He pauses, trying to think of the best way to phrase it. "When everything happened, a halfling left me with this and a promise that they would come back." He dips his head and tugs on his bangs with intermittently trembling fingers, peering through them at the Genasi. "I just want to get back to my hometown and forget all this," he offers cautiously. If his foggy memory has anything useful to offer, this woman could be a dangerous sort, and he'd like to escape her lasting notice.

 

[alabast]

Inhaling loudly as the unrelenting weight off his chest finally vanished, he reached for Kavarian’s hand awkwardly with his left hand. The relief from being freed was even enough for him to pretend the boot shoved horrifyingly close to his trapped face never occurred. Allowing himself to be pulled up with the other’s help, he wiggled his right hand experimentally, the poor thing and his left foot having been crushed numb for the past hour now. He’d resort to counting till he’s saved by the Morninglord, after he realizes he has no chance of escape from the uncomfortably close bodies and the mold-eaten floors.

Finally. There was only so much humiliation and resent Alistair could allow himself to brood over before he grew impatient on the wait. If he had thought that dying from choking in the midst of a bar fight was pathetic, suffocating from a pile of bodies was even more so.

His steps were wobbly as he stood up, leaning on Kavarian until he could shift his balance to his right.

“Much appreciated. ”

His head bowed slightly in gratitude, before looking around once more, his view no longer limited to a snail’s slow crawl. Disappointedly, the pungent smell was not coming from just the floors, but all around, and there was no new escape presented. Studying his companions instead, a sudden spark of hope sparked in him again, erasing any doubt he had in this situation. He was almost tempted to gasp in triumph again. Pins and needles were running down his foot and fingers now, but it was shoved to the back of his mind.

This was no mournful matter, not at all, now! Albeit odd, he was handed the people he sought right on a (tarnished) silver platter all along. “We are not arrested, good warrior.” He reassured Kavarian, “Captured by criminals, but there is no need to fret.”

He couldn’t even bother to doubt this time as he glanced at the other two in the cage. The genasi must have been disguised, and the other he had not noticed when he was more preoccupied with fighting for breath. It was only unfortunate that he found his pockets to be empty as he searched his coat, all the gold chains and jewels he had hidden away taken. A troublesome kink in the plans and a waste of good money, but recoverable material goods. If the others vanished into the vast lands again, however, he's not sure he (or them) will live long enough to all meet again.

As one of them spoke about returning to his hometown, however, he frowned. No- they can’t just abandon him when he’s finally achieved something after weeks of waiting. “I am sure your hometown is lovely, but we are captured for a reason beyond just the gold on your head.” He waved at Sardis, having overheard at the bar and on the trip to the warehouse. “They would have left the rest of us, otherwise.” He had at first wondered if they were followers of the Dead Three but ruled against it as he was left to the others.

His voice dropped. “I was able to recall the path here to the best of my ability, but…” He paused in thought. “Perhaps negotiation would work more in our favor than sneaking out.” Mostly, he needed them to help him recover his objectively stolen, subjectively taken for the greater good, wealth to convince them not to disappear into the four corners of the world again.

And that other man… An elf. Why were there only three in this wretched enclosure?

ALISTAIR.

Location: Cage, Waterdeep

 

[SoulHunter]

At the sound of Sardis' voice, something lingered at the edges of the haze in Kavarian's mind. Trying to focus on it, her head pounded harder sending another wave of nausea through her head. She let the memory fade and it was in that moment that the memory came to her. It was a muddy version of Kavarian tripping at the card table, of Amir confronting Sardis, and of someone with the same voice as the person in the cell but with a different face. Kavarian's eyes narrowed a moment, before her focus shifted back to Alistair grasping her hand.

Once Alistair was back on his feet, letting him lean on her as he shifted, she clapped him on the back as if to say it was nothing. At the motion, there was a slight ache in her arm, and she glanced at the source to see slight bruising in the vague shape of a mouth. "Did you-" she started, looking at her arm, then Alistair before his next words hit her. Criminals? she thought as very fuzzy images of a fight and being blown backwards shifted through the deep fog of her brain. This one was even more hazy than the last memory, but it was enough to aid in Alistair's explanation. His attempts to assuage any worries had no affect on her however because there were no worries in the goliath's head other than finding some water to send the damned pounding in her head away.

Walking back towards her puke corner, but being careful to stay out of the mess she created, Kavarian reached up to her braids, loosening the leather ties that held them. She ignored Sardis' question of lock picking supplies as she had no such things. Kavarian was less of the sneaking out type and more of the break the lock by force type. As she started the process of fixing her braids, her eyes wandered between the people before her as they spoke. The lanky fellow just looked terrified, and it was obvious he was dragged into someone else's mess, the poor boy. Her gaze focused on the genasi, watching as she tied off the last of the braids on the sides of her head.

"I am less worried about getting out at the moment and am more curious about what exactly got us trapped by criminals in the first place," she said. Though her voice indicated that she was addressing all present, her gaze was centered on Sardis. Her eyes were not hard but her gaze never wavered from the genasi, not even the pounding in her head drawing her attention away.

 

[dae mec]

So the sending stone wasn't the half-elf's. Interesting. He'd somehow been... given it during the escape. So there was yet another interested party in this mess, was there? The shaking man could simply be a fantastic actor, but in this case, Sardis felt the truth was more likely. She temporarily dismissed him from her considerations, turning to the two rather more composed (and thus dangerous) prisoners in her cell.

She laughed at the man's pretension. An egghead for sure, using all those big words. "I doubt negotiation will work with the Lady," said Sardis, not trying to hide the scorn in her voice. "You really don't know who we were captured by, huh?" She lets the scorn fade a little, her posture shifting to something a little friendlier. "Good on you for remembering how we got here, though. Do you know where we are?"

Sardis turns to the other woman. "Unlike what that one thinks, I really suspect you three are simply collateral damages, so to speak." She keeps her tone cordial. She's seen how capable the goliath was in combat, though it didn't really help escape capture. Then again, magic was an unfair advantage. "The Lady's one of the many people who have a bounty on me, though she has the most personal reason to. I killed her son. He did deserve it." Her voice was just as light as it was before, as if this was a friendly conversation over drinks.

She sketches out a bow, not mocking, but definitely wry. "Sorry for being so rude. I'm Sardis. And you all?"

 

[MToki]

Apparently only vague agreement to help was all the halfling needed to whisk Altis off his feet. He was quickly pulled into an alleyway, covered by the dark of night, and the halfling began rambling about the trouble back at the tavern. It seemed a lot relied on the bard's help, but Altis was unsure exactly how. Then the halfling, Kilroy as he's introduced himself to be, told him not to panic and the world went pale blue.

As his vision clears, Altis swivels his head around, rather confused by the sudden change of scenery. A place of sanitary white surfaces and busy looking healers. Kilroy seemed to be rather familiar with this place, perhaps a traveling healer or more so apprentice, judging by his earlier mentions of his greenhorn status. Nevertheless, it begs the question, why he thought bringing a diseased bard to this place of recovery was a good idea. Before Altis could ask, a tall half-elf made their stormy entrance.

Rather awkwardly, Altis stands a little distance from all this. He doesn't know how to act or what to do, but he tries to stand unfazed and confident as he always is. Not unlike an owl, the regal half-elf swiftly turned his attention to the bard.

“And exactly who have you dragged into our private headquarters, Kilroy?”

"Altis Iphel, travelling bard of the Feywilds, pleasure to be of your unexpected company." He bowed his head in respect. Not his usual way of greeting others, especially those who seemed sour, but it seemed this half-elf was the one in charge, so best to not be too, well, himself. "If I may ask, where am I? Not that I'm opposed to a sterile environment and being in the company of a rather, should I say commanding, half-elf, but I'm curious where I've ended up." Feeling much more relaxed now that the conversation was in his control, Altis took the time to stroll around the area, casually observing the healers dutifully going about their day.

"And what is this about a Sending Stone?" Altis questioned, recalling a brief mention of it in the half-elf's tirade. "Something magical I assume, although I've never known much of the arcane arts."

leviathan.

 

[SoulHunter]

Tying off her final braid, Kavarian's eyes narrow at Sardis. The genasi's tone was grating to say the least. The sarcasm lay thick in her words as she addressed those around her. Whether that disdain was directed at them or at the Lady Sardis mentioned was unclear. Either way it irked Kavarian. Even as the scorn faded from her voice, the genasi seemed so blasé about innocent people being dragged into the mess she created. Involuntarily, Kavarian's tongue tsks inside her mouth as she folds her arms in front of her, leaning against the metal bars that entraps them.

Do not know who captured us? she wonders as Sardis talked. Of fucking course we do not. Why would we? This is not our mess. Know where we are? Is this woman the queen of asking stupid questions? We were knocked out and dragged to this place! Good on me for remembering? You little- Kavarian's thoughts are cut off as she takes a quick breath to calm herself down as she is not completely fooled by Sardis shifting her tone to a more cordial inflection. Well aware of her slight drinking problem she'd developed since abandoning her family, the goliath takes the statement as a jab to her previously heavily intoxicated self.

As these thoughts run through Kavarian's mind, she can't help but be bothered by Sardis. It wasn't just the genasi's attitude, but also in the way she told her story. It was very obvious that the woman was keeping something hidden. When she spoke of the Lady's son deserving death, Kavarian can't keep the flicker of anger from materializing on her face. In this moment, Kavarian wishes nothing more than for Kelemvor's voice to appear from the long silence that he and all the gods had been keeping. Again, the genasi's attitude grates against Kavarian's nerves. The pride with which she says this sends a hot flash of anger through her, but she keeps her lips sealed tight from the biting words she wishes to say. The only thing keeping Kavarian's anger fully at bay, was something deeper under Sardis' words. Something she couldn't place. But something that needed to be explored further and anger was not the way to get to the bottom of this. Another deep breath passes through her lungs.

Sardis' apology falls on deaf ears. Kavarian doubts it was sincere though she doesn't care much either way. The goliath pushes off the bars, stalking towards Sardis. Ignoring the genasi's question of who she was, Kavarian heatedly says, "I think there is more to be said about what exactly you did to this Lady person you keeping mentioning. Since you dragged so many innocent people into a mess you created, you should properly explain why exactly it is that we are all here and why exactly this son deserved an early grave." Kavarian's eyes contains a cold air to them as she stares Sardis down.

 

[persephonelied]

"Ahhhahah." Perric's confused filler turns into a laugh before he can help himself when the other man in the cell suggests his presence was anything but an accident. He has the decency to curb his rudeness rather earlier than Sardis could do her own, and tries to pass it off as a cough. But as the exchange turns icy, the laugh falls out of his mouth again, nervous this time. In contrast to the Goliath and her wish to know more, he wishes Sardis hadn't said anything about the murder at all, so he could maintain the illusion that she was merely possibly a dangerous sort, and not absolutely to be avoided. He suspects Sardis won't take kindly to being asked to explain her life story, and he's eager to not be thrown again for at least a week, so he hastily steps in before he's quite formulated the words he wants to say. "Maybe! We should focus less on why we're here. And more on... what happens now that we are. It's just that last time anyone in this room started fighting I ended up here so I'd rather not repeat that scenario and-" He catches himself rambling and takes a breath, then looks down and falls silent, fidgeting with the knot in the leather cord of his boot. "Oh!" He looks back up. "Uh... I'm Perric."

 

[leviathan.]

— REACTION POST.

dae mec SoulHunter persephonelied alabast

From two cells over, you see the ragged woman look up from her muttered musings.
A face pokes out from matted locks, and you see a dark-skinned elf woman, features thin and tapered, looks up and across at you all through the rusted bars.

Her eyes are foggy, clouded over in madness and magerot, but they sharpen when they alight upon you, Sardis, lucidity returning to this woman in a matter of moments.

She crawls closer to you all with a speed that belied her frailty, as close as she can get with the middle cell separating her from you guys, face contorted in a bitter, burnt sort of anger, black as the ends left after cooking a steak.

"You," she rasps, voice a metal grate against rock, screechy and loud. Her trembling finger points, bloody nailbeds in full view, dagger-like, through the bars right at Sardis, deep-socketed, hollow, eyes boring into her face and her face alone.
"This is all your fault. They have the girl now. Kelemvore have mercy on us both."

Sardis, you recognize this woman as Ndiri Stonewarden, Directress of the Sanctuary, a high end orphanage in Baldur's Gate, your former den of operations.

As the realization shows on your face, the woman smiles, several of her teeth missing (presumably by violent means), and slumps against the bars of her cell, dead, eyes unseeing.

Silence reigns once more.

Sardis, it seems like you have some explaining to do.

 

[dae mec]

Sardis is wary about the goliath’s anger, but she keeps her composure as those pointed questions are thrown her way. “Does anyone really want to hear a long, boring story?” she says, laughing lightly. Thankfully, the half-elf provides ample distraction by stuttering out an introduction.

“Well met, Perric,” Sardis says, sketching a bow on the edge of mocking. He seems nervous in her presence, which is always enjoyable.

She idly thinks about how to play this situation—or if she should even bother. Sardis’ best work always came from improvisation. She glances through the bars, trying again to search for a possible exit, and recognition comes like a hammer to the head. That could only be Ndiri. The woman is a far cry from the elegant, compassionate woman she once knew. Sardis always thought of compassion as weakness, and yet…

She says nothing to the charge of blame laid at her feet. She says nothing for a long moment, unable to tear her gaze from the still body as the goliath starts chanting. The directeress deserved better than this.

“Ah, Ndiri…” She falls silent again.

Sardis’ bravado, annoyance, and air of satisfied danger drains away. For once, her face is clear of all masks, leaving only shocked uncertainty (and though she’d never admit it, regret). Sardis’ skin doesn’t pale. She does, however, clasp her hands together, the soft flesh of her palms gouged by her nails. She swallows once and begins to pace, hands stiff by her side.

Sardis runs a hand through her fuzz of hair and swallows again. Oh, the dead gods… she really does have to explain.

“He hurt children.” The words rush out. Sardis pauses and takes a step back, narratively and physically. “I’m not a good person,” she admits. “In the Gate, I worked as firepower for hire when I still had magic. I killed, destroyed, and stole for money. But we—we all have to draw a line somewhere.” Sardis doesn’t like the note of desperation in her voice, but she continues, wrestling her tone back to flat.

“The Lady is one of the most powerful figures in the Gate’s underworld. She played by the rules, and I worked for her from time to time. But her son was a rabid dog. He tried to do what I did, but he had no sense of… of limits or decency, he just…he was cruel because he enjoyed it. The Lady pretended to disown him, but she’d set him loose on her enemies when it was convenient.”

Sardis stops, looking through the bars again, her eyes lingering on Ndiri’s corpse. “He hurt children,” she repeats. “He killed children. Yes, he was a rival, but—” she shakes away the images of his deeds, “he hurt his own daughter. And when I killed him, I couldn’t give her to her grandmother. She created him. So I gave her to someone who would actually treat her well. Not that it mattered for long.” Sardis jerks her head in Ndiri’s direction and spreads her hands. “There you have it. Are you satisfied now?”

With her last statement, she does her best to wrap her familiar persona around her, but the execution is shaky, to say the least. But Sardis does manage a sardonic smile as she waits for their response.

 

[persephonelied]

Perric stiffens as Sardis' attention falls upon him briefly, managing only a quiet nod in return for her bow, eyes averted. For a split second, the broken voice is a welcome distraction, but as his gaze swings over to the (equally broken) woman, his breath catches.

There are so many things going through his head in this moment. The image of his mother's wane face, superimposed over Ndiri's, morphing into the black of rot and then melting to a skull. The woman's contusions, her posture - unnatural, ginger, like things are hurting that most people don't even know they have inside them. He puts his hands on the bars, knowing they won't budge but wishing he could phase through them - although she looks beyond his help, a suspicion confirmed as he watches her sink down, her eyes still and dull. He wonders if he's next.

It's silent for a moment, but for the Goliath's rites. He keeps staring at the body, playing back a dozen different emergency measures that might have at least staved off the inevitable, if he could have reached her, until Sardis calls the woman's name. Glancing back at the professed killer, he's surprised to see her face stricken, more shocked still to hear her heavy story. He's always wanted to unravel the complexities of the natural world. It occurs to him only now that perhaps people are also much more complex than the trivialities of Westbridge have led him to believe. His wariness toward Sardis doesn't dissipate, but it thins, and he returns her wry smile with a gentler one before pushing himself to his feet with a light cough. "I think... you did the right thing. Or the rightest thing you could? I-I mean, I never had the heart for it, myself, but when a dog goes bad someone has to put him down." He glances around the cell with renewed focus, stabilizing himself by centering on a question: How do they get out of this?

Every question has an answer if you know how to look.

He turns back to Sardis. "Do you have some idea of what the Lady plans to do next?"

 

[SoulHunter]

The intense stare she held towards Sardis is first broken by Perric interjecting from his spot in the cage. She backs up a few steps as Perric spoke, rolling her shoulders back in an attempt to loosen the muscles she'd tighten. It hadn't been her intention to start a fight, but it certainly looked like that's what she was doing. Another calming breath leaves her. Kavarian is surprised that the trembling boy even had the gall to speak up.

Before she can react to the boy, the elven woman from the next cage over rustles, no doubt from the noise they were making. Her words are short yet damning. Only slightly startled by the invocation of her god, Kavarian is ready to turn on Sardis once more when the elven woman's death rattle resonates through the room. Kavarian faces away from the others, approaching the dead woman with a sudden air of calmness that contrasts with her earlier sentiments. Kneeling on the ground, Kavarian reaches out to touch the woman lightly, closing her own eyes. Recalling the many times she'd listened to the priests of Kelemvor recite the Passing, the traditional way of alerting Kelemvor of a new soul to be judged for the afterlife, Kavarian begins. The goliath's version of the Passing was brief and only covered the main parts as she chanted it quietly to herself.

As Kavarian's quiet chanting comes to an end, she focuses vaguely on the pacing of Sardis behind her. Preparing herself to give the dead a few more moments of respect, Kavarian's notions are interrupted by Sardis' next words. Her head whips around to face the genasi, her nostrils flaring. He hurt children?! Raising one knee, staying crouched, Kavarian shifts to face Sardis better. Other than the initial shock and anger at her first words, Kavarian's face stays calm as she lets Sardis tell her story. Watching the genasi closely, seeing her reactions to the woman and her own words as they spill from her mouth, she simply listened.

A look of respect fills Kavarian's eyes once Sardis is done speaking and tries, though fails, to bring back the former bite she once had before telling her story. "It is good that you killed him then," Kavarian says first with more conviction than Perric gives, her voice low with a more lethal calm that she spoke with before. Her thoughts stay focused on the girl both the eleven woman and Sardis talked about. "Does it matter what the Lady is planning?" she asks Perric. "No doubt she is going to kill us all, just for having an association with Sardis. There is also your stone and its mystery owners." She gestures to him and the stone he had mentioned earlier. "They are not going to let us go freely, nor am I keen to wait for some supposed rescue." She shrugs in an apology, like she meant no malice towards Perric. Moving over to the door, she places her hands around the bars, getting a feel of the strength of the metal. "Is anyone up for a jailbreak and a rescue?" As she asks her question, her turns her head to look at the other three in the cage, her hair shifting over her shoulder. Though she looked focused on those before her, part of her mind would not let her forget about the girl who was no doubt in danger.

 

[leviathan.]

— REACTION POST.

dae mec SoulHunter persephonelied alabast

As soon as Kavarian's words fall, footsteps can be heard entering the warehouse, and a familiar voice sounds out in the darkness, lilting and amused.

"Jailbreak? Rescue? Surely not on our watch."

Emerging from the shadows of the corridor is the drow man that took you here. Where he had previously been dressed in simple tunics and linens, he exchanged for obvious, sleek finery—a puff-necked shirt and fitted pants with fine leather armor over it, all in the Thieves' Guild colors.

You know what they say: Stolen money is spent in a blink.

Trailing behind him is Amir with his facial veil on, his guarded posture not betraying the bruises and wounds inflicted upon him by you all in the barfight. His hand rests securely on one of his karambit sheaths, a clear threat to anyone that might oppose him.

Two guards, bored-looking humans in cheap armor, flank him. Traces of evident exhaustion are on their face and they move a little sluggishly—they were probably pulled from their beds to be here.

The drow sweeps a glance at you all with a crescent moon smile, mostly lip with a small hint of bared teeth.

"Unfortunately, I came for someone else."

He flicks his gaze to the dead elf woman in the first cell, not losing his smile in the slightest at the gruesome sight.

He walks over to the cell and opens it with an ironwrought key he produces from his belt—a similar key you all can see glinting in the keyring on Amir's belt—and slings the corpse of the much taller Ndiri over his shoulders with a shocking ease.

"I'll be leaving you in the care of our little Orcish assassin."

He winks.

"He's been assigned to guard you until you have your audience with the Lady in the morning, with no breaks. I wouldn't suggest angering him, dears."

The drow leans close to Amir and whispers something almost too low to be heard and takes his leave.
All except Alistair hear the sentence, though you all have to strain noticeably to catch it.

"Your contract is on thin ice, Truefang. Do not fail us now."

Struck by a burst of intelligence, Sardis, you recall that Amir is on retainer and not a true member of the Thieves' Guild—his loyalties line with his clan in the Urfangr Badlands. And because of his failure in capturing you in The Widow's Lodge, his relationship with the Guild is as tenuous as ever. Perhaps you can use this to your advantage.

Amir paces the length of your cell, resolutely ignoring you all, a cold glint in his eye and his hand gripped white-knuckled on his karambit. It seems that what the drow had said had greatly upset him.

Kavarian, your eyesight sharpens after you sober up, and you notice that the hinges on the door to your cell look corroded. Using brute force would probably force it open, but there are four trained hostiles outside, and as you look at your cellmates, you evaluate that perhaps you and Sardis are the only ones who are martially adept.

There are four hours until morning, when you face the Lady.

Do you wait it out until you guys are escorted out, or do you guys do something now?

Time is ticking.

 

[leviathan.]

— REACTION POST.

MToki

Back where you are, Altis, the half elf narrows his eyes and gives you a once over at your introduction.

”This half-elf has a name, Master Iphel.” The man’s words come scathing and sharp, but nonetheless, he acknowledges you with a polite nod of greeting. It seems like even in this den of healers, magerot has managed to worm its way in.

”Tyrede Nonagesimus. As for your questions, we don’t discuss organization matters to outsiders, unfortunately.”

Kilroy meekly pipes up.

”A-actually, Ty—Master Nonagesimus, the reason I brought Mr. Iphel into headquarters is willing to bear witness before the Council to secure resources to retrieve the prisoners and our Stone.”

They look down at their feet.

”It’s, uh, important. If they found out what was stored on that Stone…” They swallow. ”They’ll find us.”

Tyrede pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

”Kilroy. Tell me you didn’t.”

Kilroy shrinks even further back.

”But I did.”

The half-elf doesn’t speak for moment, his eyes closed and his mouth in a thin line.

When he opens them again, his gaze holds a new determination.

He turns to you, Altis, with a renewed interest.

“Allow me to reintroduce myself. Tyrede Nonagesimus, head of Triage, Neverwinter branch. We’re the only thing standing between the denizens of this city and the rotten Thieves’ Guild poised to loot and swallow this whole damn town. If what Kilroy says is true, we must convene in the Council Room at once. Walk with me, Master Iphel. I’ll answer any pressing questions you have along the way, hm?”

And with that, he turns on his heel and starts striding out of the main hall into one of the great corridors, with Kilroy trailing behind him.

Do you follow?

 

[alabast]

Before he can reply, the creaking voice of the elven woman brought his attention towards the neighboring cell, and he recognized the disease in her harrowing eyes in an instant. It is too late, he already knew. The disease has been less than kind to most, and the elved one of the harshest. He'd never the detoristion of their strucken elders, the centuries which once granted wisdom now collapsing onto their flesh.

Alistair'd hoped in secret that’d be the end, but as the goliath move forward willingly to say the Passing, he sighed and followed suit as well, his hands making a few pointless arcane gestures on habit. He didn't dare to mention the Holy Silence, finding he himself unwilling to consider where shall rest when the gods can't even reach the material plane without great difficulth.

Still, he knew the phrases used by Kavarian well enough to add on his own quietly afterwards. It was an amalgamation of the earnest words from Illmater and gilded lines of Lathander of which he himself recited once; each were cherry-picked, for the delivery in its full scope would take days. The lines fitted awkwardly at places, but he couldn't bring himself to pick. Alistair finished with a clinical attention, the words forming on trained reflex alone. He was- no, is a priest, after all.

And at least, Sardis’ explanation provided some answers as to why they were snatched off the streets without an answer. It did bring to question, what has these ‘chosen ones’ been up to, but, no matter. He dreaded adding another variable into the pre-existing difficulty and as frightened as Perric had been in first impressions, Alistair agreed with the question. The present mattered more.

The possibility of drafting out a plan, however, was crushed as footfalls approached. Swearing silently, he kept his head down throughout the entire exchange when he realized with disappointment none were the elf he saw in the vision. No god-send savior, then. The key caught his eyes easily, though it caused more scorn than anything else. Without any weapons and spells, he doubted they’ll have any fight left in them to escape if combat is initiated; worst, that's on the assumptions of a now defunct plan, now that four new pairs of ears are hounding their backs as well.

Needless to say, a miracle would be quite nice and appropriate at the moment.

With his hands behind his back, Alistair thought out loud, finally, "Well, I've been wondering, who is this Lady we are given the chance to meet anyhow? It seems polite to prepare for a meeting beforehand." He added, careful to keep his sincerity difficult to read, though in comparison to earlier, his tone was largely tame. To be frank, even a response from the guards would be plenty of luck with his lackluster question. Best not try to mutter and end with your head on the floors when the guards believe a plot is whispered, he thought grimly.

ALISTAIR.

Location: Cage, Waterdeep

 

[SoulHunter]

Hearing the resounding footsteps, Kavarian's head turns back towards the outside of the cell. Every fiber within her muscles come to attention, ready to take action to whatever might be coming. She recognizes the drow figure from the previous night, before she'd gotten plastered. It was a setup. The thought runs quickly through her head as the remains of her hangover continue to leave her mind. They were waiting for her. Her train of thought only begs the question of how they knew Sardis would be at the Widow's Lodge in the first place. Kavarian barely listens to the drow as she pays attention to the guards entering behind him. One...Two...Three...Easy. She focuses on Amir, her eyes trailing to his karambits. Definitely the one to watch there.

Her attention snaps back to the drow as he speaks of the dead elven woman. The smile on his face as he stares at her begins to awaken the writhing anger she always seems to carry within herself. Disgust fills her eyes as more sewage spills from his mouth. Her eyes sharpen as the drow leans towards Amir, her ears straining to catch the words whispered. Intrigue fills her as she barely catches their exchange.

Watching the drow leave, Kavarian gathers the saliva in her mouth, spitting in the wake of the drow, muttering a few curses towards him in Giant. Lip curling ever so slightly as she turns her head to focus back on Amir, her eyes catch on the hinges of the cell door. Corrosion lay thick and she thinks about busting the door in that moment, but Alistair's words bring her attention to those behind her. A quick study reminds her that this group wasn't made up of fighters. She reaches for her flask, giving it a shake and feeling a very minute amount slosh inside. A deep sigh and some more disgruntled words in Giant leave her lips.

"The Lady?' she asks, placing the flask back in its pocket. "From what Sardis says she was complacent in her son's dealings, which makes her just as guilty as he was. I know all that I need to know about her." Kavarian's head turns back toward Amir and she rests her forearms on the crossbar of the cell door, her hands hanging through.

She watches him pace a line in the floor before calling out, "Hey, pretty boy." The tone of her voice wasn't necessarily mocking, but wasn't very polite either. "This your doing?" As she asks, stretching out her forearm to display the remnants of the bite marks on her forearm. The accusation feels right though she's not sure why, so she barrels through, not bothering to give him a chance to answer. "Those karambits?" She flicks her head, motioning to the weapons at his side. She recognizes them from her her time during the Gilded Guard and small amount of excitement at possibly seeing one up close flows through her despite the situation they were in. It could also be a fine talking point to try and learn more from the one is on the fringes of the Thieves' Guild. "Fine weapons, beautiful blades, but so small." A weird sense of deja vu hits her, likes she's had this conversation before, but she can't place where. A flicker of confusion crosses her face before she shakes it off. "I have never seen one up close before. Can I get a closer look?" Kavarian looks hopeful, almost like a child begging to see something of wonder. "You do no have to step closer, keep a distance," she adds in a rush like that would convince Amir to show her.

 

[leviathan.]

— REACTION POST.

SoulHunter

The guard stationed near the mouth of the warehouse lazily barks at you to shut up, Kavarian. The other one, nearer to Amir and you guys, is lightly dozing leaning against some crates, unbothered.
Amir shoots you a look of disdain (you don't have much to go on, as his eyes are the only feature uncovered, but it's still pretty clear), but he replies despite himself.

"My, where have I heard those words before?" He mocks, voice low and lilting. "The more you repeat yourself, Master Goliath, the less sincere your sentiment seems."

A bit of unwilling pride colors his voice.

"But they are wonderful blades, that is true."

But his hand makes no move to pull them out of their sheaths.

"And certainly too good to parade around in front of prisoners, I should think."

He smiles dangerously.

"I am not for your amusement, Goliath."

and for anyone else's, either, contracted or not was the unspoken continuation.

 

[dae mec]

Sardis doesn't know how to feel about the new respect in Kavarian's eyes, or the agreement of Perric and the priest. She hasn't considered her actions with that rabid madman or his daughter to be particularly just, or good. More of a weakness, or a passing fancy, and yet...

She has no time to think too deeply on the matter when guards approach, along with that damned, vaguely familiar drow. Sardis has the strong desire to punch that smug attitude off his face. Just because he still has magic means nothing. (Ignoring, of course, that Sardis has acted in shockingly similar ways when she did still have her magic.)

The half-orc is there too--Amir. She knows that he's not part of a Thieves Guild proper, which... might be an opportunity to consider. Sardis knows how the Guild treats outsiders, especially those beholden to other groups, especially those who weren't quite successful. It's part of why she insisted on being independent.

"He is indeed pretty," Sardis agrees, her lips quirking with amusement. Her mind whirls as she tries to summon her charisma, though this will take a different approach than her favored shock-and-awe. She lowers her voice, hopefully enough for just Amir to hear. "But I doubt they hired you for your looks. Though that might be how they're treating you now, hmm?"

Sardis eyes aren't the flickering crimson of Before, but they still glitter a dull red. "Is this what you expected from your contract?" she murmurs. "Stealing children. Murder without reason. There's no honor among thieves, and the longer you stay, the more it stains."

Maybe, maybe--It worked with the other prisoners, though she hadn't expected it to. It could be worth trying the truth again, if a little twisted. "Do you know why I'm here, Amir? I killed who needed to be killed. This is my reward." Sardis keeps her gaze steady. "They will ask you to be their dog, to kill without principle." Her eyes finally flicker to the tortured body in the other cell. "Or have they already?"

 

[leviathan.]

— REACTION POST.

dae mec

Amir is silent after your words, then there's a low, bitter chuckle. The man masks it well, but Sardis, you see him twitch at the mention of honor among thieves.

"What do you know about honor, warlock? Do you know why I am here?"

He gives a kick to the bars of your cell, strength of it rattling the bars.

"To honor a debt of my people."

The half-orc then backs away, not fool enough to be within touching distance.

"I have not stolen children. Nor have I killed without reason. I am fulfilling my contract. My people's debt."

His eyes flash with latent anger. Your accusation has provoked him more than he lets on, Sardis.

"The deeds of others do not affect me."

He looks at you Sardis, eyes searching and disdainful.

"And I am no one's dog, Master Genasi. If we are looking for dogs, why not look first at the ones who are caged?"

With that he turns his back to you all, and speaks no more.

 

[persephonelied]

When the Goliath brushes off his question, Perric sighs and begins constructing an explanation in his thoughts, but footsteps ring out before it can be brought to fruition. The drow is another type Perric doesn't want any attention from, so he studies the floor intently while keeping his ears pricked enough to catch the low threat. No sooner than he realizes this could be leverage, his cell-mates begin making their advances. Perric quietly watches the Goliath's friendly approach get sneered upon, and holds his breath at the half-orc's violent reaction to whatever Sardis murmured. He chews his nails and shifts his weight, thinking hard about how he can help their situation. He's no good at people. He knows that. The others have myriad advantages that he can already see from the short time he has known them, like poise, charm, and perception. In contrast, all he has are questions.

That's it. He straightens slightly and takes a breath to prepare himself, and as he does he catches the veiled man invoke a debt of his people.

Perric turns to face the half-orc and asks, "What debt could your people possibly owe to ones such as these?" Glancing at the guards, he adds. "No offense." His guarded expression betrays unease, but the way he figures it, the most he can do is ask questions and hope they make openings for his more talented cell mates.

 

[SoulHunter]

A sneer rises upon Kavarian's face at the farthest guard's incessant barking. Opening her mouth to shout back at him, she stops as Amir responds. Not at all surprised by the venom in his words yet slightly confused at by some of them, Kavarian has no immediate reply. She could tell that careful words would be needed if there was any way of convincing Amir to end this supposed contract he had with the Thieves' Guild early. Gears and cogs turn in her head, but before a full idea can be produced, she hears Sardis pipe up from behind. Keeping one ear on the genasi, her eyes stay trained on the half-orc in front of her, watching, observing.

Sardis' words were moving, but not enough as Amir grows agitated at her mention of honor. Amir's kick rattles the bars Kavarian was resting on, though no reaction comes from the goliath. A curious look crosses Kavarian's face as she watches and for a moment, a brief moment, as she sees herself in Amir. Though their situations are vastly different, a battle seems to wage within Amir as he speaks of the debt he's paying, a similar battle that still rages within herself. As Amir makes his quick steps away, Kavarian clasps her hands together with a loose grip as she lounges against the door. An idea forms in her head as another voice speaks behind her. Perric asks a question that's been stuck in her own brain, her curiosity burning as the question was voiced out loud.

"Debts are important to repay," she begins quietly. "But not at the price of who you are." Her eyes, never having left Amir during this exchange, are filled with a softer light, more akin to how she looked at Sardis after the genasi shared her story. "Amir. I do not want to fight you.....again apparently. But if that is what it takes, then so be it. You claim to not be my amusement Master Half-Orc, but I did not see you as a toy to play with. Those who do see you as such are those ordering you about however they want. Ready to throw you out once the toy stops working. You say you never killed children, never killed someone without a reason. What 'reasons' have you given to justify your actions in the past for these people?" An intensity enters Kavarian's voice, a quiet, slow burning intensity. "In that tavern, innocent people were dragged into that fight who had done nothing wrong and you acted as though you were ready to take them out. I did not know you. I did not know Sardis. I am sure you were ready to cut me down for simply being an obstacle in your way. The lanky one behind me was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, yet here he is being prepped to be killed for possessing a stone he was handed in the chaos of the fight." A pause settles in the air between her and Amir and she takes a breath to continue. "You claim to be guilt free, not as bad as those you serve. Yet you serve terrible people and that makes you just as guilty. Would your tribe be proud of what you have done?" She slams a palm against the bars of the door, a sudden thickness enter's Kavarian's voice, barely perceptible as she barrages on. "Would they be proud to know of the things you have done just to repay a debt? Would they be proud to know that you lose your honor and self every moment you spend longer with these people? Are you proud of the person who you are right now?"

Realizing she's started to ramble, Kavarian stops abruptly. She'd gone farther than she'd intended, letting her own emotions carry her. If not for the need to be by the door, she would have turned and fumed in the corner. Instead, she pulls her hands back inside the cage, wrapping her fingers around the bars. She waits. Did her words have any effect? She hoped so.

 

[dae mec]

Sardis rests her head against the stone wall. Her smile remains, and she spreads her arms wide in a theatrical gesture after the other two prisoners say their piece. Hopefully, Amir is convinced by their show of sincerity, and if not, maybe he'll be off balance enough that their escape will be easier. She's fine with either at this point. Sardis sees Kavarian grab the bars, and she idly steps forward. If they need to act, she'll be ready.

Sardis does hazard a glance at the healer and priest: would they be more than dead weight during the hypothetical escape? Well, it's not quite her problem. If they die or get recaptured, that's their problem.

(She ignores the twinge as she at the thought. She ignores the even deeper pang as she thinks of the girl she saved, only to be delivered into the Lady's hands. Perhaps... ah, godsdammit. Sardis is practically obligated to make an attempt for the girl, isn't she? Not obligated, but the thought of leaving the child fills her with... something. Why is her one good deed laid to waste?)

She shows none of this, but her smile does fade. "Your choice, Amir. And you don't have much time to make it.

 

[leviathan.]

— REACTION POST.

dae mec SoulHunter alabast persephonelied

As you say that, Sardis, Amir's eyes hold your gaze as you see him contemplate your arguments, weighing honor against debt.
There's a tense silence - the guard near Amir startles awake and shifts a look in your guys' direction, stirred by the conversation Amir is having with you all.

He shoots a half-suspicious, half-sleepy look at the half-orc—it seemed that there was some tension between the native Guild guards and the contracted assassin—but Amir soon breaks his stare at Sardis and returns to his former stoic position and barks an order, moving the man next to the other guard near the entrance.

The man complies warily, crossing to stand at the other side of the warehouse hall—it seemed that although he didn't entirely trust Amir, he was still ranked somewhat below him.

Amir resumes standing in front of your cell, making no more conversation. A chilly silence befalls the warehouse.

Three hours until dawn.

It seems like your final plea with Amir had failed.

Except—

Amir speaks again, just low enough to be out of earshot from the guards at the entrance, soft, low, and strained with a hidden urgency.

"Let's say I get you out of here—what can you offer me in return? Your valuables have been confiscated, and your backgrounds are abysmal. How do I know you will not betray me as soon as you step foot outside the cell?"

His back is turned to you, and he is stock still as he speaks, not giving away anything from the outside—the other guards have started up a conversation at the entrance, masking his voice further.

"For all your talk of honor, you and I both know how this world runs, yes?

Let us discuss payment. My contract with the Ish-Mabarak* is seventy gold per month. If you can promise me that and convince me of your—ha!—honor, we have a deal.

If you choose the way of deceit..."

Amir does not perceptibly move from the front, but in a blur of movement, he takes both of his blades out of his sheaths, letting you all see the deadly gleams of their wicked curved edges, before speedily sheathing them once more—an obvious threat.

"Then we shall see how many of you even make it to the door to be slaughtered by my fellow colleagues, hm?"

Though the room you guys are in is windowless, weak rays of light brighten the mouth of the corridor leading outside as sunrise nears ever so closer.

"You lot don't have much time—I wouldn't save my breath. Your only option is me."

Amir starts whistling an old tune that some of you might know, foot tapping lightly to the rhythm.

Hangman, hangman, hangman / slack your rope awhile.
I think I see my father / ridin' many a mile.
"Father, did you bring any silver? / Father, did you bring any gold,
Or did you come to see me / hangin' from the gallows pole?"
"No, I didn't bring any silver, / no I didn't bring any gold.
I just come to see you / hangin' from the gallows pole.

Time is ticking.

Do you guys take Amir up on his offer?
Ish-Mabarak - The Thieves' Guild in Orcish

 

[alabast]

Alistair followed along as Kavarian sought to start a conversation with Amir, then Sardis. His scrutiny stirred at the half-orc’s response, skirting around the venom for the mentioned debt instead.

That could mean anything, he realized. From its literal monetary meanings to something more abstract, or nonexistent for all he knows. Even after Perric’s question was left unanswered by Amir, he couldn’t let the thought go. The whole bid for the other’s help felt like an awful fumble through the dark. They’ve stumbled on the wrong block twice now, and he recalled the half-orc’s words just a moment earlier.

'I am not for your amusement.' Best not to test that while behind bars.

Or really anywhere, he thought as he caught at the flash of blades.

At first, the other’s offer surprised him. He was certain they'd be left to the mercy of the Lady, at that point. Now, even if Amir was playing them for fools, going along was the only choice. Neither negotiation with the Lady nor a brute-forced breakout held room for both their lives and an investigation to the cage’s left. Amir’s help could buy him time.

When they'd first arrived, he was met with a insistent tug to the left, accompanied by a whiff of fresh air. It was quickly forgotten once the other's awoke, but now, however, Alistair recalled as the path to freedom was feebly lit by light. A reminder, twice. He knew the smell of decay left no space for any other, and his own instincts hardly was as certain.

Muttering a quick prayer of gratitude, and cursing in thought the addition of tasks, Alistair gathered himself as Amir whistled his song. The other had asked for gold and proof of honor, the latter he’s sure one or the other can handle. Kavarian’s speech was certainly impassioned, and the genasi knew more of the guild’s innards. Meanwhile, Perric’s unanswered question still roamed in his thoughts.

“You offer a kind deal. And, if it means anything to you, I would swear on my honor as one who has given up a good life to seek the greater good.” He said, carefully masking his Illedrian lilt. Those of the Isles were far from popularity, he knew, and the Death Three’s influence lingers far and wide.

Alistair glanced at the other’s, hoping for something else to prove their honor further while he continued, “The gold can be gathered I’m sure, and if I had to guess, there are pieces worth dozen times more around this warehouse, given rumors of the Guild’s usual works.”A blind guess, hopefully vague enough. Sardis, he recalled, is wanted for burning the textile district, destroying the guild’s valuables in the process. Here they are, in yet another textile warehouse as he accounts for the tug as well.

“I confess, one reason I arrived at Waterdeep for, is to seek an item of incredible value in the Guild’s possession, according to my source. Little did I know I’d be led here by force.” his voice lowered as he forced a sheepish look; the godly and vague nature of said source was conveniently left out. The honesty in the rest of his words, hopefully, was enough to prove him genuine. “It could fetch a good sum of gold, as well.”

“And, perhaps there are other things we can offer to help with this debt of yours, depending on its nature?”

ALISTAIR.

Location: Cage, Waterdeep

 

[SoulHunter]

At first, Kavarian barely notices the words that Alistair speaks following Amir's hesitant willingness to work with them. Torn between the victory of some semblance of success and indignation at his notion of her being dishonarble, a scoff escapes the goliath's mouth. Barreling right after Alistair she mutters, "Abysmal? Abysmal?!" Though her words are still heated, she keeps them in lower tones so as to not allow the other guards to overhear. "My background is nothing but honorable. I have never worked for killers!"

With a resounding smack, a small pool of spit hits the ground in close proximity to Amir. Immediately after she makes a quick glance towards the other guards. Though she was angry by the half-orc's words, she was mainly making a show to the others. A thrill of anger flows through her and she turns her neck sharply, a loud pop coming from her vertebrae as the bones release the air trapped in the joints. Her grip tightens on the bar. She refocuses on Amir, a small breath escaping her.

"I am a renowned warrior amongst my tribe, much like you are as seen by your little show there. I have protected my people, this land's people since I could pick up a sword. Since I left my home. And not once have I worked for those that wish harm on others. I protect." Her hands tighten around the bars once more. Her face moves closer, almost pressing against the metal. "I see the turmoil within you Amir. You try not to show it, but I see it. You and I are more similar than you may think. I want to help you. Not just to get out of this stupid cell, because I could do that on my own. Do not doubt me. But I fear the safety of those with me that cannot fight like I can. So let me help you."

Alistair's words finally register in her mind. His talk of gold within the building. His mention of working for the greater good, which intrigued her but now was not the time to explore that one. His final point, lingering the longest in her mind: Amir's debt.

Her gaze as she looks upon Amir is imploring. Honestly from her pleading of him to trust at least her shining from her face.

"Let us help you."