Archedius wrote:Archedius stiffens slightly and cracks a smile briefly before turning to face the new entrant into the room.
"May I presume you to be Master Deltherin? It is good to meet you, I am Archedius Tagaris of Damara and I am in dire need of your wisdom and knowledge. I haven't much money to compensate you, but I'm hoping my symptoms might be of special interest."
The tall, gray haired gentleman replies-
''I am Delthrin, yes.
My servant has told me of your demonstration on the porch. Would it be too taxing for you to repeat it...not now, but in a little while? I should like to obtain a specimen for testing. Before we get to that, I would like you to explain your condition in detail, including any unusual events which you beleive may be connected with it.''
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
Blaise eagerly uses some of his talent. He feels a pleasant tingle in his tongue as the charming effect dances around his words. "I'm here to help you," he says to the imprisoned man, "but the dwarf here isn't. She wants to see you beaten and flogged for attacking that girl. That's unfair!
"But I have a lot of influence with the militia. I can protect you -- I might even be able to get you set free -- but they need information. You've been to that place many times, right? The women are NICE there, aren't they?
"Tell me everything you know about Nell -- you must have seen her, right? -- and a man called Fortis. If this information is good, I can help you."
_______________________________
OOC: Blaise is using his charm effect (Will DC 16 to resist).
"There are three rules for writing a novel. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are."
--W. Somerset Maugham
Alain makes his way over to Shana, stepping over a few of the subdued bodies on his way there, his expression staying in a state of surprise. Looking this way and that and then to Ironheart, he finally seems to understand. Tavern brawls were always a clear sign of the uncivilized sort.
Alain takes the diary from Shana with a somewhat puzzled expression on his face. "Who's journal is this?"
Alain turns to Jamethon with a somewhat uncomfortable smile on his face. He replies in a timid voice, "Yes, we apparently missed the...excitement. What happened here?"
Archedius wastes no time and relates the story of the rotting angel in service to the Witch-King of Vaasa during the Damaran war of independance. He mentions the rot being forced down his throat and the burning mark left on his torso from its handprint.
He makes sure to mention word for word what the angel said to him as it died, "No tomb can hold you; you will walk when you die."
"Master Deltherin, the vomiting began the very instant the angel spat down my throat and it has continued in the years since then. When I come in close contact to undead, I can feel the next mass I'm going to vomit move around and tear my flesh."
"My concern is that my curse not cause harm to others when I do die. I don't want some abomination to wrench itself from my corpse or worse yet, to rise myself. Remove this from me! Or at least allow me to keep my mind when I die! Please!"
Archedius openly weeps and limps over to a chair and sits in it before composing himself and looking at the Necromancer.
"your first bar brawl? well, you must be an awesome fighter... not a mark on you! The journal belongs to Nell, a courtesan who vanished at exactly the right time to be the female decapitated body. I thought as an expert reading-stuff-person you'd be the best to let us know what clues it contains!"
Alain looks down at the journal in his hands, somewhat taken aback.
"Amazing work Shane. I dare not ask how you procured this, but I will see what I am able to find."
He then makes his way to a table (if any are in operating condition) and takes a seat (Again, if any are not broken) and begins to pour through the journal. Idly, he brings up what he learned at the militia headquarters.
"Unfortunately, I was only able to dig up further questions. Questions whos answers may not have anything to do with our current investigation." He reaches into his jacket and produces the scroll and unrolls it before him on the table.
"I asked about a list of missing names and as expected I was given an extensive, yet no where near complete listing of peoples reported missing since the attack. What I did not expect was Captain Rask having already assigned a militia member to see to a very specific case. Unfortunately, this was where I had come across a bit of conflicting information." Alain clears his throat and sets the journal down before continuing his report.
"Upon perusing the list while I was in the Captain's office, I came across a name which had been made special attention to by a militia member by the name of Talbot. He had been assigned to investigate a missing person by the name of Aleena Korund. Now, Captain Rask had informed me the person was wife to a local spice trader by the name of Alexius Korund. I assume the Captain was simply not quite as informed as he would have liked to have been as I soon questioned Sergeant Talbot as to what he was able to discover in the course of his investigations...just out of curiosity."
"Talbot informed me that Aleena Korund was not wife to Alexius Korund, but his niece. This rather piqued my interests. I would think that if the decapitated body of a child had been found, Sergeant Talbot would have been able to close the case." Alain pauses for a minute, a somewhat troubled expression coming over his face.
"I seem to remember when last we all met, it was mentioned that Delthrin Tharkholt had referred to his creations as his 'children'." Alain stops completely, taking a deep breath.
"I feel that such a concept is quite unimaginable. Yet we are dealing with a man who knows no bounds as far as dealing with the human body is concerned. I don't hesitate to suggest that Delthrin's 'children' are perhaps...children. Worse yet, perhaps they are in fact his children. Or at least it may be possible this particular girl is. Of course this is mere speculation. But in the case of this missing girl, it may be worth while to investigate any dealings with Delthrin and the Korund family. Perhaps we can discern who the mother and father are."
"I was able to find out who the last person to see the young girl alive was. A former guard to the late Baron by the name of Jonet Prake. Prake had seen the girl in the halls of the citadel during the final attack. Unfortunately as far as I can discern his usefulness ends there. After seeing the girl he was involved in the Baron, Lord Scoril's last stand, fighting at his side. Of that particular battle, he is the lone survivor of the the men who fought alongside the Baron. Due to his courage in defense of his lord, he is to be honored at a ball this very evening. I do not know if any leads will turn up, but it may be worth talking to Prake directly."
"I was able to convince Sergeant Talbot to allow me to gather a group of militia members to provide security for the ball. Of which I leave that invitation open to the rest of you.
"Now, given the nature of this ball and the status of such an event, I would not be surprised to find Alexius Korund and Master Delthrin Tharkholt in attendance. And of course if that is in fact true, this could prove an invaluable opportunity for any non-militia affiliates to embark on any special investigations of their own, while the masters are away of course."
The prisoner rattles his chains, getting to his feet with some difficulty. He looks at Blaise with his one good eye [his right eye is nearly swollen shut- a mark he didn't have on him when Bliase and Rardi saw him last at the Palace].
''You can help me? Alright then, I'll talk. Nell, yes, I remember her- a pretty brunette. She was better mannered than some of her trade. I....unhhhhh.... cannot abide a mocking strumpet. As for this man, Fortis....''
The man suddenly doubles over and vomits convulsively into the filthy wooden bucket on the floor.
''Ohhhh.....I need to go to the healers....ohhh....''
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
''Well, that is interesting. I suppose that it wouldn't hurt to investigate this possible connection further. I won't be attending the party with you, though. I've set up a meeting later tonight with some fellows I know from my dead cart job who may know something useful to our investigation. ''
''Oh, and as for the fight, you'd do better to ask Ironheart about it. I missed the beginning of the brawl, having stepped out to take care of some business, and had only just returned a moment before Ironheart jumped into the fray. I really don't yet know what these men thought was worth a beating from him. ''
Here, Jamethon indicates the hulking brute who stands nearby.
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
ewancummins wrote:The man suddenly doubles over and vomits convulsively into the filthy wooden bucket on the floor.
''Ohhhh.....I need to go to the healers....ohhh....''
"Lovely," mutters Blaise. However, he looks with a little more concern a second later, worried that this could be more than simply a drunken man getting sick. He glances back at Rardi, wondering if Rardi feels the same way.
He says to the prisoner, "What's wrong? I promise -- I'll get help for you as quickly as possible. Now what were you saying about Fortis...?"
______________________________
OOC: Ewan, please make a Heal check for Blaise to see whether he thinks this is more serious than drunken vomiting.
"There are three rules for writing a novel. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are."
--W. Somerset Maugham
ewancummins wrote:
''Oh, and as for the fight, you'd do better to ask Ironheart about it. I missed the beginning of the brawl, having stepped out to take care of some business, and had only just returned a moment before Ironheart jumped into the fray. I really don't yet know what these men thought was worth a beating from him. ''
Ironheart gives Alain and the others a short nod.
"With me by your side, no human will pose a threat to you.
If there's glory to gain with it, you have my swords."
Delthrin listens intently to every word of Archedius' sad account. He then, with Archedius' approval, visually inspects the man's body, especially his chest and mouth. Delthrin is gentle during the examination, and evidently sympathetic in his manner. The necromancer appears to be employing some sort of magic, for he occasionally pauses to recite unintelligble incantations or else appears to concentrate deeply for brief periods. Archedius' does not see or hear anything unusual as a result of these possible spells, however.
''I would say that it is most likely the case that your body contains one or more cysts of undead tissue, which must have entered your flesh when the 'angel' attacked you. Removal of these cysts might prove fatal, I ought to warn you. Of course, should the undead tissue not be excised, it is quite possible that you will rise after death as an undead creature.''
The necromancer pauses to take a slow breath and seats himself in the chair that had lately been used by the veiled girl, before going on-
''I cannot promise success, but I will do my best to aid you. These cysts are something about which I have read in books, but never before have I actually encountered such. I will need time to prepare. There are other necromancers who may well be able to provide me with a cure for your condition, but it will doubtless take some time for me to contact them and to persuade them to help us. I will work as quickly as I am able, you may be certain. Indeed, I shall dispatch messengers today. ''
Delthrin stands.
''I will be in attendance at Lord Ildool's party this evening. My presence there is necessary. If you should need to contact me tonight, you will find me there. At other times, it is of course best that you should call upon me here at home.''
Last edited by ewancummins on Thu Apr 30, 2009 4:09 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
The man doubles over again, and this time he is coughing up more than just vomit- now blood pours out of his mouth!
Delight is to him- a far, far upward, and inward delight- who against the proud gods and commodores of this earth, ever stands forth his own inexorable self.
Rardi looks at Blaise. She didn't feel sorry about the man's condition given what she knew of him. Then he began vomiting blood. Her instincts took over and she moved to him.
"I heal ye then ye tell me what I want to know, bub."
Clutching her holy symbol, she offers up a prayer to Lathander. Her hand glows a radiant blue then she touches him, infusing him with her healing magic 2d8+8 for total of 16 hp cured on him
"That feel better?" Rardi now insepcts the man with her healers eye. She looks for any other sign of a beating he may have taken from the guards who brought the man in.
"From the bottom of my soul, Thank you! I will be discreet, none of my associates knows of my...illness or that I'm here meeting you. As far as I'm concerned, they will never know."
Archedius shifts his weight to his other leg and grimaces slightly as he does so.
"I hope the cysts can help you advance your art at the end of all of this. I am not sure if I'm feeling up to a social appearance, but I hope you enjoy yourself at the party. Red Knight be with you, Master Deltherin."
He bows to the necromancer, then to the veiled child, and takes steps towards the entrance of Blackpillars to leave.
