Café de Nuit

There's something wrong.

All of you realize it at about the same time--Lena as she notices the blades in Feray's hands and thinks back to the Vistana's words, Richard as he perceives the intense, unnatural aura around the Rashemani swords woman (an aura which he can sense pervading even the stone of the caverns and the air he breathes), Avram as he hears the strain in Feray's voice and realizes that their clothes fit so poorly they can't possibly be their own. Others are drawing their own conclusions; Pyrrha growls as Feray approaches, then bursts into a series of frantic, angry barks.

"Hold, Feray," Søren says sharply.

She halts, obediently, and looks calmly at Lena. "As I said, Baroness. There's something wrong down here. Screams and laughter are the least of it."

Glancing at Altan, Yarek gets himself up and begins to hurry forward. Two turns reveal a small group of Rashemani and Mulani, led by a Rashemani woman supporting the red-headed girl he last saw on the altar, facing away from you at the end of your corridor.

Yarek stops dead, then begins to move forward slowly, his face blank.

"So it seems." Lena said, her mind racing. This situation was getting a great deal more tense and dangerous than she liked, and so Lena did what she always did in these situations. She talked. "Søren, can you get the dog to hush for a moment?"

"Right. Goodwife Feray, I think you have done all that we can expect from you." Lena said soothingly. So long as violence didn't erupt, everything would be alright. No one had to risk their lives. She believed that, utterly. "We'll take care of it from here -- if you have any wounded, we've healers in abundance, so simply let us know what you can about what is happening back there, and head on upstairs. You've done your duty."

Bluff +17; We totally believe you, no need for violence, let's all quietly move on.
[dice]0[/dice]
Total: 37

"He-here, let-let-let me take her," Richard said as he walked forward with arms open for the red-haired girl - once again with no sudden moves - silently thankful someone was playing along for now. His armor was hiding the sweat on his palms. "If-if trouble comes again, you'll have-have both your hands free. We-we ought to-to-to leave this-this place quickly."

Søren has to grab Pyrrha by the scruff of the neck to keep her from lunging forward; she slowly calms as he mutters in her ear. Showing a great deal of composure, Feray looks Lena in the eye and nods. "Thank you, Baroness," she says. "It's a relief to have found some help. I think there are a number of people who are quite intoxicated, and some have managed to damage themselves, or perhaps were damaged by others." She hands the red-headed girl over to Richard without demur. "I..."

At this juncture Yarek appears, followed by Altan. Altan looks relatively fresh and well, save for a rather handsome bruise on his jaw; Yarek looks very unwell indeed, although it's hard to point to the specific reason why.

"Feray," he mutters.

"Landsherr! Are you well?" the Rashemani swordswoman asks, obviously concerned.

Sense Motive rolls, please.

"Oh bother," Altan sighed. He hated magical compulsions when he wasn't the one issuing the compulsion.

"I would prefer if this did not devolve into violence," he mumbled under his breath, "and if I could keep Yarek intact."

Readying an action to cast Bungle on miss Rashemani brat if she gets uppity and forgets her place among superiors (i.e., if she makes any hostile moves)

The Spellcraft to recognize Altan's spellcasting is increased by 2 (bloodline power) and if anyone fails by 5 or more, they think he is casting a Moment of Greatness spell.

Nathan of the FoS wrote:"I see you are a theologian...Freiherr," Marcellus replies, pausing long enough over the title that it's clear he doesn't know quite what to make of Vasili's appearance and apparent social standing. "Passing over the question of the law of nature and what it allows, the law of the Church abominates self-destruction to mystical ends.

Vasili shakes his head vigorously--almost spasmodically--at the titles of "theologian" and "Freiherr." "I'm a man of limited gifts, who finds the Divine Law liberating. I am ill-at-ease without the guidance of the Law in my life. I was ordained to follow greater men, to serve them. I hope to do so for you."

"It is something worse than the Penitents, Jernspogmaler Abtor," Rastem Varreg says quietly, "or I miss my guess."

<He's set the mark,*> Vasili mutters under his breath, then turns to the Abtor as Renhalt takes on Rastem. "Please forgive your servant. A childhood affliction of the tongue returns to trouble me when agitated--a kind of stutter."

"Bad enough as it is," Renhalt replies. "We trust, of course, that nothing worse will, or could, be found here than the rites of the Penitents. You will wish to have our assistance, of course, Dommer Abtor. We are entirely at your service and eager to ferret out these evildoers as quickly as possible. How can we assist you?"

"Indeed, Dommer Abtor, what would you wish of us? Your associate fears something worse than the Penitents. Perhaps he should state his case, give us something else to look for.** Landsyf, you only recently discovered this, but did you hear of any participants who did not bring this upon themselves?"***

As he waits for Rastem and the Landsyf to answer, silent cat feet pad into the Helholt and pick up the pace, racing ahead to tell the others the story they will have to use.

*Bluff/Innuendo +14 to send a message to Renhalt
[dice]0[/dice]

**Bluff to get Rastem to spill what he has on the Thott.
[dice]1[/dice]

***Yet another Bluff to give the super-honest Landsyf something to agree to.
[dice]2[/dice]

"Speak of the devil and he doth appear -- or speak of the infernal scion of House Thott, as the case may be." Lena murmured, glancing at Yarek, then at the others. And of course he had to show up at this dangerous interval. Not five minutes before or after. "Good that I thought to mention healers. Goodman Avram, Goodman Marcel, could you see to the Landsherr? How does that go... Rich men, trust not in wealth, Gold cannot buy you health; Physic himself must fade. All things to end are made... Let's hope it does not come to that."

Fascinate DC 18 on Yarek and one of the two Mulani with Feray.

Richard seemed to be ignoring the goings on in the tunnel, or at least trying to. He carefully and quickly guided the red-haired woman towards someone else not currently occupied - Lena, or Avram, perhaps, anyone who remained away from Feray. Richard seemed reluctant to leave her, but turned to go get the Mulani now, preferably the one who did not seem fixated on Lena's voice at the moment.

“There, there, now.” Avram took the serving girl’s shoulder gently, ushering her to the back of the group. He did not say “This must have been very trying for you,” or “You’re safe now” — with the likely perpetrators standing right in front of him, it didn’t seem the politic thing to do.

On his way, the hetman caught Marcel’s eye, and inclined his head in Yarek’s direction. “Please; attend to him.”

Sense Motive +16:

[dice]0[/dice]

Lena might as well be speaking Patterna for all the attention Yarek is paying to her; his eyes are locked on Feray. She makes a small "keep calm" gesture, then breaks eye contact and deliberately turns away from him. "I'll go on up, then, Freiherr," she says to Søren, "and let you finish down here."

Yarek makes an odd sound, halfway between a sob and a laugh, and says, "Is that it, then? Is that all? You're just going to let us...just going to let her go?"

Another person rounds the corner in the hallway from which Feray and the others have come--this one a powerfully built Rashemani in his twenties. Seeing the confrontation taking place, he hurries forward, his bloodshot eyes staring and his posture aggressive.

"I would be fascinated to know how this foreign boy, who has been in the Helholt for five hours, has either the status or the insight to demand that I explain my reasons for believing that the heretics gathered here are worshipers of the fiend Iblis," Rastem says sharply. "But I think that conversation must await some future time. I say..."

"He is not a foreign boy," Renhalt cuts across his speech, equally sharply. "He is a member of the Jarenberg household and a graduate of the Red Academy. As am I. I hope you are not questioning my status, or for that matter my insight. Freiherr Boritsi has my complete confidence; his insight is valuable and very much worth heeding. Have a care, Dommer Varreg. Have a care, Dommer Abtor. For the Church to move against the Helholt and its masters is a grave thing, and one with repercussions for all our nation; for a deadly heresy I can see how it might be done, but for a lesser heresy it would surely be overstepping the proper bounds between the Church and the nobility. The word of one man, even so dedicated a servant of the Church as Dommer Varreg, is a thin strand to support so much weight. Let us hear your reasons and your evidences, and then we will know how best to help you root out the evil you say you have found here."

"We must strike now," Varreg grinds out. "Now, I say. This talk is to no purpose. If they cannot be caught red-handed they may not be caught at all. There may be lives at stake. The Slaves are known to delight in corrupting innocence and violating virginity--and doing even worse things, when they can. I fear such may already be taking place."

Nathan of the FoS wrote:"I'll go on up, then, Freiherr," she says to Søren, "and let you finish down here."

"I-I-I'll come with you, Good-Goodwoman," Richard cut in, striding past the others with purpose, stopping next to her. "There is something not-not right down here. It-it is not safe to go alone."

Nathan of the FoS wrote:Yarek makes an odd sound, halfway between a sob and a laugh, and says, "Is that it, then? Is that all? You're just going to let us...just going to let her go?"

The words, the accusation, hung in the air for a moment. Richard turned to look at the young man, so much younger, tilting himself so he could see both Feray and Yarek. He suddenly reached out and grabbed the Mulani by the shoulder.

"Do-do you say otherwise, Landsherr?" Richard asked, his voice quiet and steely. He looked like a different man, pulled to his full height, his eyes cold as silver. "You are-are-are the Thott, the Master of-of-of the Hellholt. Do you say otherwise?"

Upon seeing the incoming Rashemani, Richard instinctively stepped back from Yarek and pulled his sword, the blade making a dull rasping noise as five feet of steel came loose from its sheath.