Out in the open streets, the few people who hadn't the reason to head inside gave wide berth for Rhydd and his rather deceased-looking passenger. The angry man who had tossed Mallory's gifted blanket onto the campfire now sat in his corner with it wrapped around himself. The rest of the beggars were all there. Or, everyone aside from the redhead that had stood for most of the civil conversation.

It was clear Ogden had no intention of knocking on the large building that constituted the Town Hall. He steadfastly trudged up the stairs, placing both hands and using his weight to swing open the door in a heavy motion, only for it to be caught by someone on the other side.

"Ogden," the voice belonging to the gloved hand sounded. Slowly, and more quietly, it creaked open to reveal a bald, dark-skinned man clad in a white fur pelt and the trademark azure blue of Bryn Shander's authority.

"Markham," Ogden rumbled, striding past, to which the man didn't seem to pay any mind. He instead turned his attention to the two unfamiliar faces. "Good evening. I assume you're all here because of-" he stopped short as he spotted the decapitated, bleak husk Rhydd was carrying."Ah. Step inside." He gestured inward, allowing them to pass before he closed the door behind them. "How's your tavern faring, my friend?"

"Bloody hole in th'roof, that's how it's farin'," Ogden replied as he lead the charge down the torchlit halls. It was a rather spacious building, constructed mainly in wood, with doors leading to either side. The banner of Bryn Shander, bearing the same antlered wheat plant as the crest outside her walls, were proudly hung spaced out along the walkway. The leftmost door was open, allowing for a glimpse of a dining hall beyond. It had repurposed into a temporary lodging area for the unfortunate, and a guard tended to a couple of people sipping soup. They were, presumably, based on their appearance, mother and child. The Dwarf headed straight past and for another door at the end, this one closed and guarded, and Markham nodded for them to step aside and allow for passage.

---

Mallory's Investigation Check to search the Wight's body (taken care of in Kelvin's Comfort) [16]: The wight had almost nothing of value. Aside from a set of bloodstained keys contained in its pouch, that was, and a strange coin tucked away in a compartment inside its glove.

Mallory's Arcana Check on the Strange Coin [8]: A strange coin indeed . . . nothing about it reminded her of any currency she was familiar with, not even in passing. It was possible it wasn't a coin at all, but a mere chip or token of unknown purpose. But whatever it was, it was important enough for the Wight to keep separate from its keys. And it was certainly well-crafted, if a bit morbid in its motif.
This message was last updated by the GM at 14:21, Fri 11 Mar 2022.

Back out into the bitter cold once again.  Mallory had dearly looked forward to settling in for the night amid warmth, food, and as much booze as she could afford herself, but there was still so much to do.  Would there be a moment's peace for anything in Ten-Towns, she wondered?

As they made their way once more past the gathered beggars, she spotted the grumpy fellow bundled up and offered him a gentle smile but otherwise kept to herself.  That there was a bruised ego that did not need to be poked.  Once at the Town Hall, however, she stood aside while Ogden handled matters and gave a polite curtsy when attention was given her and Rhydd's way.  The young noble let Rhydd go on ahead first and remained close at hand to open any doors or clear obstructions for him as necessary since his hands were full.

Astre, meanwhile, dove once more from his companion's shoulders as soon as they were indoors and trotted along at his own pace.  Mallory gave a brief glance after him but otherwise paid little heed; cats would wander as they would and it wasn't as if Town Hall was so big as to lose track of him entirely.  While she kept along with the rest of the group to make their report, the Tressym sniffed and meandered about the corridor's shut doors until he eventually poked into the dining hall to explore.  Unless driven away by some stubborn guard first, of course.

---

As they go along, Mallory will invoke her Eldritch Sight and have "Detect Magic" up and running, just in case.  She would've had to drop it earlier when she cast "Levitate" since they're both Concentration effects.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:59, Tue 01 Feb 2022.

Rhydd had been to Bryn Shander before, of course, but he had never ventured inside the Town Hall. He would have stayed clear of it on this visit as well, but Ogden (the archer had heard the tavern owner's name spoken at some point during all the hubbub) made a bee-line for the building, and Rhydd judged that he had little choice other than to follow the incensed Dwarf.

Although Rhydd was not a weak man, the burden that he was carrying soon had him sweating underneath his heavy winter gear. The heat seemed to multiply many-fold after he had stepped into the Town Hall, and he reasoned that he was going to need to set the body of the Wight down soon, so that he could unbutton his coat and release some of the body heat that his winter gear was doing its best to retain.

~~Just a little bit longer, and I can set this thing down,~~ he reasoned, as he waited for their little group to gain admittance to the room where Ogden had led them.

Blood stained both carpet and wooden steps. Markham Southwell gestured for the guard to follow them down the flight of stairs, overtaking Ogden in the process. He was moving swiftly, with no intention to waste any time. "A shame," he said in his hurry. "Let us converse in my office.

"I assume matters have been handled. If not, a force has been mobilized to contend with the issue." It was a narrow, cramped area, dry and cold, torchlight dancing across the stone. But it was clean, and the doorways, furniture, and decoration were in pristine condition. A small dungeon complex made accommodating. Barrels and crates were stacked neatly, and at the landing were multiple doors leading in all directions, watched by two guards. The sight of the Wight clearly inspired curiosity in them, but with the Sheriff acting calmly, they kept steady. Through one of the doors, Mallory could see the faint shimmering of magic. Illusion magic. A blot, about the size of a crouching person. Markham let his visitors into the western room, this one containing tidy desk fitted with all the supplies a Sheriff might need and a couple of shelves containing literature. In here, yet another guard sat bandaging a young man whose guard gear had been discarded. On second inspection, the wounded man was completely unmoving, and his face, slumping away from the onlookers, wore lifeless eyes. The other guard stood in silence and Markham sighed deeply.

A momentary look of concern was given for Rhydd when Mallory noticed he seemed to become uncomfortable, though the notion of him being too warm seemed an alien concept to her when she would shiver by fireside in the north.  She moved to ask if he was alright but was cut short when their apparent host continued on and left them to keep up.  She picked up her heels to hurry down the battered hall even as her gaze momentarily lingered on what, to others, was just another of many closed doors in passing.  A flicker in her gaze bounced to and fro, but that was all of it before she continued after Ogden and Southwell.

"The immediate danger, yes, but there remain other potentials.  Plus the matter of damages to this gentleman's property." she volunteered her voice for the first time.  "There were nearly several fatalities but thankfully all were spared, and we assisted a Squire of the... the..."  The prim confidence Mallory usually maintained faltered as the environment around them grew more dire.  Bloodied stairs, battered guards, and the one seemingly most unfortunate soul of the bunch stilled her voice.  "...sir, what happened here?"

---

Meanwhile, Astre's ears flicked sharply on reflex as a voice reached him alone.  Not heard, but felt, and bade to act.  He abandoned his idle prodding around the entry to the dining hall and instead trotted quietly down the same hall his companions had passed until he came to a particular door.  The Tressym sniffed curiously along its edge and laid down flat on his tummy in an adorable flop with his snout pushed right up to the base, then arched up in a stretch propped up on his hind legs to see if there was a keyhole he could sniff as well.

---

Perception for Astre - Trying to see what he can of the inside of the room beyond the door through any gaps or the keyhole.  Sight based, so no Advantage this time.
Mallory Bonheur rolled 20 using 1d20+5
This message was last edited by the player at 22:38, Thu 03 Feb 2022.

The Sheriff, somber, glanced the way of the deceased man. "This brave man rushed to warn us of the danger. I believe the Squire you speak of encountered him as well, and frankly, I expected to see her here. I hoped to see her here."

The other guard put a hand over the guards eyes to shut them. The man had clearly suffered a slash across the abdomen since his leather armor was torn diagonally, and his companion had done his best to patch him up. But some wounds were too grievous to staunch.

"Fetch for reinforcements. At least five guards," Markham commanded the guard in the room. "And tell the gates to maintain high alert. The danger might have passed, but it might be only momentarily." The guard abode, and the Sheriff turned to Rhydd, "We'll leave the Wight in one of the cells, and I'll have some of my men see that it is restrained. Now — to whom do I owe my thanks?"

---

The lock was one of those heavy duty ones, with the large, weighty keys to accompany it. And that meant a large keyhole, perfect for peeping through. Astre could spy a series of cells on the other side. One was occupied, though the person in it remained somewhat out of view. He was gagged and bound, that much Astre could glean.

Theirs was a dangerous world at the best of times.  Even being from a metropolitan city, of noble standing, wasn't enough to fully blot away matters of violence and death that happened all around.  Mallory knew death, certainly.  But it never became any easier for her to face and she paled with the weight of realization that there were likely another two men slain nearby from what Khulekani had told prior.

"She... the Squire, I mean..." it took the young noble a moment to regather herself.  "She's at Kelvin's Comfort; she was injured during her battle with the Wight, so we came in her stead while she was tended to.  My name is Mallory and this is Rhydd.  We just arrived in Bryn Shander hardly an hour ago, and my companions and I assisted the Squire against the Undead."

In all honesty Mallory didn't quite feel right to speak for Rhydd but, given his usual brusque manner, figured he might appreciate not having to chat with an official.  She pressed on.  "The Squire said that you have a man in your custody responsible for this mayhem.  A Red Wizard?"  Even as she asked of it, knowledge filtered into her mind from Astre.  "I'm an Arcanist from Neverwinter; I hoped to offer my services, both to nullify the Wight's remains, and to identify further dangers your captive may offer.  A spellcaster, even seemingly rendered helpless, is still a very potent threat with a variety of contingencies at their disposal."

It hardly needed to be said given the bloodshed all around them, but Mallory feared even worse might come if the wizard had any further tricks up his sleeves.  And she knew by personal merit that any caster worth their wand was never without options.  "To that same end, do you recognize these?  The Wight had them and I have a sneaking suspicion I know what lock they pair to." she withdrew the blood-stained ring of keys from her satchel to offer out to the Sheriff.

---

Astre, in the meantime, dropped back down to take a seat beside the door.  There he remained, silent and patient, with ears perked to listen and remain alert of any changes that might come from within the apparent jail beyond the door.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:40, Thu 03 Feb 2022.

Rhydd glanced over at the prostrate guardsman, hoping that he might still be alive in spite of his grievous wound. But when his fellow guard gently closed his eyes, it was apparent that his spirit had left his body.

The archer slung the body of the Wight off of his shoulder and dropped it unceremoniously on the ground. "Let somebody else carry him to a cell, if that's what you want to do with him," he said to the man who seemed to be the sheriff. "I carried him here from the tavern. I'm done carrying him around."

He listened whilst Lady Mallory explained what she knew of the situation. Rhydd was glad that she had accompanied Ogden and him -- she has an easy way with words that he could not hope to match.

The wizardess's concern about the Red Wizard was plain to hear. And if she was concerned, Rhydd was doubly concerned. He had an instinctive distrust of magickers, and at this point Lady Mallory was pretty much the sole exception to that guiding principle.

He hoped that the sheriff would not muddle about with this and that. Unless the man moved quickly to allow Mallory to address her worries about the captive Red Wizard, Rhydd was going to have to step in and help him gain a better understanding of his priorities.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:51, Fri 04 Feb 2022.

"'Tis true," Ogden spoke up. He had, surprisingly, blended somewhat in to the background. Presumably due to his short stature. "Without this lot around, I would 'ave much more than a hole to contend with . . ."

When Rhydd slumped the body to floor, the Sheriff himself stepped forward and hefted it up on his shoulders. He found it was surprisingly light, clearly expecting the mass of a grown man. "You've heard correctly," he said to the Wizard. "Though I am unsure how wise it is to let just anyone near him. Yes, even someone who just helped dispose of a dire threat. As you say, a spellcaster restrained is still dangerous. Especially if said spellcaster has connections." He made no effort to mask the insinuation by the tone of his voice. "Beyond the dead . . . Undead, I mean. Dead?"

"To that same end, do you recognize these?"
"No," Markham replied. "Which means they don't lead here. I don't leave the jail cells with any of the guards stationed outside this building."

The Sheriff's overt manner was met with little more than a flat expression and critically arched eyebrow from Mallory.  "Oh, please.  Were I in league with the Red Wizard, he'd have already been freed without anyone ever knowing I existed in the first place." she countered in a deadpan tone.  There were times when she would purposefully boast of her abilities to make an impression but, in the moment, it was more to the point of ensuring the Sheriff took the matter seriously.  If he believed a caster's accomplice would be so careless as to reveal themselves with a 'walk in through the front door' bluff then it spoke poorly of security otherwise.  Not out of a lack of capability, necessarily, but simply that too many people just didn't know how to contend with magic properly.

That the key ring was not what Mallory assumed was met with a soft tone of curiosity before she tucked it away once again.  "Really then?  Questions for later in that case." Frankly, she was glad she'd not introduced herself as a Diviner that time.  "In any case, I don't expect to interview the man or anything like that.  I simply wish to confirm he's truly been neutralized.  That he still had this Wight under his control is evidence that merely binding him isn't sufficient.  An Undead of this variety is rare and difficult to conjure.  To be able to control one; either this Red Wizard is vastly more powerful than you realize and he's allowed himself to be captured for some reason, or he has magical items in his possession that are of immense danger.

Do you have a mage among your officers who could've identified any magical tools or equipment he might've carried with him?  Confiscated all clothing and accessories he was wearing?  Reviewed his grimoire to verify the scope of his spellcraft?  Sighted or slain his Familiar beast, whatever it may be?  Was he completely blindfolded and rendered unaware of his surroundings before being put in his cell, or does he know where he is?" she prattled off a string of possibilities that would need to be contended with.

---

Persuasion check w/Advantage, as requested
Mallory Bonheur rolled 13 using 1d20+3
This message was last edited by the player at 22:23, Fri 04 Feb 2022.

Lady Mallory's parade of dire possibilities relating to the Red Wizard who was close by was enough to curl the hair of a lesser man. As it was, they made Rhydd distinctly uncomfortable.

The archer leaned back against the wall of the room and fussed with the toggles on his winter coat until he could open the front to allow the free flow of air.

~~Unless this sheriff . . . what was his name? Markham? Unless this Markham is a total lackwit, he will pay heed to Lady Mallory's warnings, and grant her access to this Red Wizard magicker sooner rather than later.~~

He regarded the sheriff evenly, awaiting the man's response . . .

"No," came the Sheriff's replied staunchly. "Until further deliberation, none will be allowed into his cell. Wait here." There were no answer to Mallory's flurry of questions. Southwell went for the exit and had one of the guards follow him while one stayed behind, and made it clear that Rhydd, Mallory, and Ogden were all to remain. He closed the door behind himself, and Astre had to move aside once or risk being trampled. The gave a wordless glance toward the Tressym, expecting him to understand. Only when the winged feline was out of sight did he maneuver the Wight upon his shoulders to allow one hand free before reaching into a pocket for a set of keys and unlocked the door to the cell area.

"Don't take it to heart," Ogden chimed in. "He'll likely want to talk with Duvessa first. I know not a thing of Red Wizards and such, but I'd figure if one's to follow protocol, it'd be now."

---

Mallory's Persuasion Check to convince the Sheriff to let her visit the Red Wizards (w/ Advantage granted by Rhydd's earlier remarks) [10 13]: Fail.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:40, Sun 06 Feb 2022.

"Fool," Rhydd growled in Markham's direction after the sheriff had issued his "No Admittance" edit. He would have said it to the man's face, but Markham had already turned on his heel and was striding into the cell area, mayhap with the intent of forestalling any discussion on his decision.

"'Further deliberation' in the face of clear and present danger, once the facts have been clearly explained, gets people killed." the archer added.

He turned to Lady Mallory. "Can we afford to wait?" he whispered tp the wizardess.

"Sir, please, at least allow me to safely extract the necrotic bezoar before you--!" Mallory insisted as she followed after the Sheriff, only to have the door shut in her face.  She flustered for a moment in a red-cheeked huff and stomped the heel of her boot at such dismissal but, like Rhydd, more or less kept her criticisms from carrying further than their room.  She cast a sidelong glance at the guard who remained to keep an eye on them but left his presence without comment.

Rhydd's muttered question as she returned to his side with her arms crossed earned a rather helpless shrug and sigh.  "There's not much else we can do but wait.  I certainly can't just turn a blind eye to the danger this poses and leave, but pushing our luck and aggravating the Sheriff when his men lay slain around him is just going to get us thrown in a cell ourselves." Mallory's relationship with temperance was often shaky of late but she knew better than to poke a hornet's nest.  "No doubt the Sheriff is feeling quite overwhelmed by all this.  But he hasn't pushed us out into the snow yet, so there remains a chance."

"Don't take it to heart," Ogden chimed in. "He'll likely want to talk with Duvessa first. I know not a thing of Red Wizards and such, but I'd figure if one's to follow protocol, it'd be now."

"Duvessa?" she echoed in question.

---

Astre was still sat quietly outside the door to the cells when Markham came stomping down in the company of another guard.  While he did scoot aside so as not to be literally underfoot, he remained about where he was to idly sniff at the men and arch his side against the guard's boot in a passing rub.  Any mere look to drive him off seemed to fail entirely without recognition and it would take an actual gesture or sharp hiss through the teeth to actually make the Tressym scamper away down the hall.

Still, Astre didn't go too far.  Though he'd retreat well enough that the men wouldn't bother with him further, he still remained in line of sight to watch them at their task.  No sooner would they head inside than he'd scoot his way right back to the door once again to resume his adorable espionage.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:11, Sun 06 Feb 2022.

"The Speaker," Ogden explained. "Yer not from around 'ere, are ya? Markham doesn't strictly have to speak with her . . . but he will. He will," Ogden said, rubbing his shiny head as he found himself a chair to sit on.

---

Astre was allowed to resume his adorable antics, so long as they be conducted outside the cell area. Neither the Sheriff nor the guard left any openings for him to slip through — at least no blatant ones. Once the men were inside, his ears could pick up the clinking of metal — keys, chains, bars — as the men beyond presumably labored to properly restrain the Undead.

---

It became a test if patience. The guard kept a watchful eye on them, making sure none left the perimeters unnoticed. But if anyone tried, they would find that they weren't being kept against their will, just that the guard needed to take stock of where they were headed so they could be readily contacted if the need arose.

After what must have been at least twenty minutes, Markham finally returned to his office with his gloves in his hand. The guard from earlier did not follow him. The Sheriff allowed the silence to linger in the air briefly as he glanced upon his guests. Mallory in particular. "No grimoire was recovered. Aside from a wand, he had no items on his person save some loose change. Nor could we locate any Familiar. Could the Wight have been the Familiar?"

"No, most certainly not.  Though I was hoping to speak with the Speaker myself on matters of business, so there may yet be a serendipitous turn for the better." Mallory observed.  Though given the late hour, along with the mental and physical exhaustion of their day, she had no desire to try and manage a trade deal that evening.  Set an appointment for a later date, perhaps, but no more.

When Markham finally returned with a report, it most certainly didn't seem to sate nor impress the young noble.  Though she said it was best to be understanding of how overwhelmed the Sheriff must've been with everything, she couldn't help but give a dissatisfied sigh over his remarks and question alike.  It was only her deeply-ingrained etiquette that kept her from rolling her eyes.  "We can count ourselves quite lucky that is such an utterly preposterous notion.  No, a Familiar is a planar spirit tethered to the soul of a spellcaster by... ah... well, nevermind." she began to explain only to quickly realize it would be outright nonsense to the untrained ear.  Instead Mallory changed tracks to something more useful.  "Rather, the Familiar will be in the form of an animal of some sort.  A small creature like a raven, a rat, or such.  It acts as an extension of the spellcaster's will and body alike, and no self-respecting Wizard would be without one.  Binding this Red Wizard will not prevent him from utilizing his Familiar in the slightest."

The lack of a Familiar being witnessed meant it was likely somewhere nearby but hidden, or dismissed within its safe haven until an opportune moment presented itself to be exploited.  The lack of a spellbook on hand meant that the Red Wizard had it stowed somewhere else rather than on his person, Mallory reasoned.  There was no way he came all the way from Thay without it, after all.  "Sir, I appreciate your efforts but there are simply some matters that require a specialist.  His clothing, loose change, or even tattoos on his very flesh may be enchanted and require direct attention to verify." Mallory insisted as she gestured in the vague direct of the cells down the hall.  "When we first came down the hall, I just so happened to sense that there's an active illusion spell in one of the rooms there, about the size and shape of a man crouched over in there.  There's several things that could mean, but were you aware of that?"
This message was last edited by the player at 09:17, Mon 07 Feb 2022.

"Yes. We knew he could be disguised. We have not yet attempted to dispel the illusion, but there is overwhelming evidence pointing to him being who we think he is," Markham replied to Mallory's last question, taking time to think things through. His eyes were scrutinizing. Untrusting. "Forgive me, but I must ask — on whose behalf have you come?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:43, Thu 14 Apr 2022.

That they'd actually realized there was an illusion at play offered some small measure of reassurance, at least.  Khulekani had mentioned the captive had behaved rather calmly during his capture, so it was surely him... if he'd cast a spell on someone else to use as a decoy to be captured in his stead, the fellow would surely raise a far greater fuss.  She could only assume the guards had laid hands on him as well since his capture, so he surely couldn't have escaped already and replaced himself with an illusion to cover his absence?  At least she hoped not.

"Forgive me, but I must ask — on who's behalf have you come?"

That question drew Mallory out of her inner thoughts as she raised her gaze - at least the one eye that was still visible beneath her hair and bandage - to meet Markham's glower.  Had it just been her present she might've quailed a bit from the Sheriff or been much more deferential in her approach.  But Rhydd's presence bolstered her courage enough to not blink under scrutiny.  "In this precise moment?  His and the Squire's behalf, to deliver word and Wight." she gestured to Ogden briefly.  "In general?  My own.  Sir, I understand the position you're in and how all this must appear with the convenience of a witch like myself showing up but, I assure you, I've come only to help.  The Red Wizards are a consummate threat to all the people of Faerun; if he's truly one of their ilk then he was up to no good here, and these Ten-Towns have already endured enough strife.  My friend was nearly killed because of that Wight and who knows how many more might come to harm if things aren't given their proper care?  I couldn't just sit idly by and do nothing once I learned of this."

She paused to allow the Sheriff a moment to mull on that before she pressed once more, albeit gently.  "I'm not asking for unfettered access to your prisoner or his belongings.  If it would make things easier, I'll submit myself to any precautions you feel are fit if you would allow me to perform my appraisal.  I can detect magic at a glance and precisely define it within the hour." she urged with a softer tone. "If even that is too much for you then at least allow me to instruct your men on how to contain and dispose of the potential arcane dangers.  Please, sir."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:29, Mon 07 Feb 2022.

Rhydd was standing with his back up against a wall, with his arms crossed in front of his chest. The fact that Lady Mallory was still discussing possibilities in a rational way gave him some comfort, but the fact that she was actually pleading to be allowed to go into the cells and examine the prisoner hinted at just how serious she considered the situation to be.

Turning his attention to Markham, he said "You'd do well to pay attention to what she's saying."

"I know that I'd not care to match wits with a wizard of any stripe when it comes to matters having to do with magicks. If you've got the sense that the gods gave a turnip, you'll feel the same way -- especially since, from what I hear, these Red Wizards are much more powerful than most."

"Your best protection -- and that goes for your town and its people, as well -- is to have a knowledgeable wizard . . . ess on your side. Someone who understands what must be done in order to defeat the efforts of a Red Wizard."

Rhydd gestured towards Mallory. "There she is."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:56, Tue 08 Feb 2022.

The guard motioned away from the door as Markham leaned on his desk and remained silent for a while, considering Mallory's and Rhydd's words. "Hmm. We've had another . . . wizard instruct us on how to proceed with these matters, which I will admit have proven rather difficult. He did not, however, foresee the Wight. So there is truth to your words — we require more expertise." He paused for another moment, rubbing the trimmed, greying beard on his chin. Then he stood and opened the door. "Come with me."

Mention of another Wizard furrowed Mallory's brow with curiosity but she chose not to press on it at the moment.  Not when things were still precarious.  But when Markham finally seemed to concede she gave a small, relieved sigh.  "I'll do my utmost to be of help."

As the Sheriff tended to the door, Mallory took that quick moment where his eyes were away to cast Rhydd a grateful smile and silently mouthed the words 'thank you' to him.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:42, Thu 10 Feb 2022.

Rhydd nodded in reply to Lady Mallory silent communication. He elected to interpret Sheriff Markham's "Come with me" decision to include him as well as the wizardess, whom he followed into the cell-block.

He well knew that he would be as much use as a chocolate tea-pot when it came to matters of actual magicks. But he assumed that Markham would lock Lady Mallory and him into the cell area -- just in case something got out of hand.

And if that was the case, he suspected that he might be able to make himself useful for non-magicked tasks whilst the wizardess turned her energies and her attention to dealing with the ever-formidable Red Wizard.

Markham led the way into the jailing area. A limited and cramped place, holding at most five cells. The lack of natural light served to strengthen the feeling of claustrophobia — it was clear one currently found themselves a few paces beneath ground. Each cell was barred and contained nothing but a chamber pot and a bench. A single guard remained stationed inside the area.

The Wight occupied the nearest lefthand cell, and had been bound tightly and comprehensively to the bench with chains.

The Red Wizard was chained in the cell at the end of the corridor. His arms were raised and held in shackles that extended and attached to rings on each sidewall, and he sat kneeling, his ankles chained together as well. His head looked bandaged, though upon closer inspection it was just his nose that had been bandaged — the other cloths were a blindfold that covered his eyes and a gag that was drawn tightly to prevent him from speaking. The only sense he was left with was his hearing. He'd been allowed some modesty in the form of simple clothes, which hung loosely on his rather frail form. His brown hair laid matted against his forehead, pasty with sweat.

Mallory could see thin wisps of purple and blue magic strung from The Weave undulating and mixing around his form, wrapping him in a faint, ethereal shimmer. The visage before them was all an illusion, down to the last strand.

Markham paused, casting one last contemplative glance at Rhydd and Mallory. Then he searched his ring of keys. "He's been in custody for three days. Interrogations have been less than fruitful.  We do, however, know a few things, among them that a couple of Tendays ago, the prisoner hired a band of adventurers. They have since disappeared, and their location is unknown. You wouldn't happen to know anything of it?" he explained as he unlocked the door to the Red Wizard's cell.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:37, Fri 11 Feb 2022.

As before, Astre remained at the door's side while the others finally returned from their absence down the hall.  He fell in stride with the group when they headed into the jail, quick to trot along with the sharp clack of Mallory's boots on cold stone.  Once they arrived in the make-shift dungeon he scampered to a corner to once more hold his watchful distance.

The sight of the captive man gave Mallory pause.  Both in the sharp scrutiny of a critical eye that gauged for threats and, despite her objective knowledge, a sense of pity.  She knew full well he was allegedly a Red Wizard but to see another person in such a squalid state of capture wasn't easy to endure.  The immediate rise of empathy welled in her chest and she had to take a moment just to stifle it back down again under a weight of professionalism.

"Hm... that is an impressively dense illusion.  And it's been active for days, you say?" Mallory thumbed at her chin thoughtfully.  Even some of the more potent illusion spells couldn't stand up to direct scrutiny once their nature was revealed, so it certainly piqued her intellectual curiosity to see such a sample up close.  "This would make finding an enchanted tattoo quite unlikely.  But if one of his belongings is the spell's source and it's still been within the building all this time, he'd still be able to maintain a connection to it.  You're certain you've collected all possessions he had on his person?  All of his clothing?  Body piercings?  I'd like to examine them, if you could set them out aside."

"We do, however, know a few things, among them that a couple of Tendays ago, the prisoner hired a band of adventurers. They have since disappeared, and their location is unknown. You wouldn't happen to know anything of it?"

Mallory shook her head gently as she stepped into the cell once it had been unlocked for her.  "I'm afraid not - we've only just arrived among the Ten-Towns a day ago ourselves.  We'd have been here sooner still were it not for that inept scoundrel of a wagon master..." she bit back her ire at Niels for the moment.  "I'll require a few minutes of focus to perform my examination, during which I'll need to maintain physical contact.  Just a hand will suffice.  Is that permissible, sir?" she raised her free hand with a wiggle of her gloved fingers demonstratively for Markham's say-so.

---

Astre is keeping watch for anything amiss or suspicious.  Let me know if you need any rolls, but that's what he's up to for the time being.  Mallory, meanwhile, is ready to Ritual Cast "Identify" as soon as she's given permission.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:44, Fri 11 Feb 2022.

Markham accompanied Mallory into the cell. The Red Wizard quickened his breath in response to having company, but otherwise remained motionless. Though twitching his nose was all he was capable of in his current state. "The Wizard — a Gnome who recently returned to Bryn Shander — was here two days ago to confirm the illusion. But there's been no changes to his appearance. The brown haired, adult man before you is how he was brought in by the Radiant Squire. We're in the dark as to his real appearance. A wand, three coppers, twenty silvers and five gold was all he carried."

Mallory received a nod upon her prompt to touch the prisoner. Markham was close and armed, as was another guard. It was still a somewhat tense moment, as direct contact could be prime opportunity for an escape attempt. "As long as you don't doom us to fiery conflagration."

As a hand was laid upon him, the Red Wizard shuddered and his pulse rose once more. He bit hard on the gag, breathing laboriously. Time slowed down. The pearl on her family ring lit up dimly, barely enough to be perceptible, as she went through the rites.

Meanwhile, the Sheriff turned to Rhydd. "I'm certain you understand the reason why I'm apprehensive when it comes to who is allowed to see him. And I trust that you will not air any information carelessly."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:17, Sat 12 Feb 2022.

As she stepped near Mallory leveled her lantern rod just behind her legs and let it go where, perhaps to Markham's disdain over potential magical surprises, it floated affixed in mid-air.  But there was nothing more nefarious than the young noble simply using it like a bench to sit on as she settled in and began the process.

The most the others would know of the casting was little more than superficial at best.  On sight, there was only Mallory's eyes set half-lidded and a dull, nearly stifled illumination from the otherwise unseen ring that she wore beneath her glove.  Soft words whispered out under her breath; nonsense to the ear, more akin to random sounds and consonants than the more poetic style of chanting she usually performed.  But to Mallory herself?  To those who could perceive magic?  The world around her was aglow with the pulsing, thrumming paths of raw arcane essence that suffused creation.  She could see the leylines of The Weave all around and, with each sound she hummed out, sought to find each individual line's resonance.  Each one needed to be identified and plucked like the string of a harp in order to secure its tone, to build the harmony one element at a time that would reveal the truth to her.

---

Mallory Ritually casts "Identify".  That's her for the next 11 minutes, so if Rhydd wants to pick the Sheriff's brain about anything, now's his opportunity.

Rhydd looked evenly at Markham as the man spoke to him. This Sheriff seemed to be the sort who enjoyed giving orders, and apparently expected them to be followed.

The outdoorsman did not reply to Markham's comments. Instead, he turned and watched Lady Mallory as the wizardess began the process of . . . whatever it was that she was doing.

"How did this one," here Rhydd nodded his head in the direction of the chained-up Red Wizard, "first come to your attention?"

Markham paused at Rhydd's question. It seemed like they would have plenty of time to talk, so he took his. "Because he raised enough hell for the entirety of Icewind Dale to take notice. Several reports of a strange wizard began to surface in Easthaven about a month ago. Simultaneously, rumors of his presence in Good Mead and Caer Koenig came to our attention. We've been cooperating with the authorities in both towns, as well as Fireshear." Markham drew a deep breath, allowing the wizard's whispers the silence to be heard. "And then, a couple of Tendays ago, some dozen townsfolk in Easthaven were murdered. We have reason to think our Red friend here was behind them. And then there's the case of the missing adventurers."
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:40, Sun 13 Feb 2022.

"Hunh," Rhydd grunted when Sheriff Markham told of the trail of death and destruction writ wide and long, seemingly by the Red Wizard who was held captive only a few feet away from them. "He was not exactly subtle, was he? Or she. If that is an illusion that we see shackled there in that cell, we scarce know anything about him -- or her -- do we? Well . . . except that Lady Mallory has observed that very powerful magicks were required in order to bind the likes of a Wight to his or her service."

The archer thought for a moment. "I believe that I heard the . . . the paladin, I suppose she must be, though I know very little about the likes of them . . . any way, I heard the female warrior say that she had captured the Red Wizard. What a battle that must have been!"

"And she struck the blow that laid the Wight low . . . I hesitate to say that it is killed, for I have little understanding of such creatures. Any way, you should have seen how her blade glowed with a dazzling, radiant light, the likes of which I have ne'er seen afore."

"Of course," Rhydd was quick to add, smiling pridefully, "Lady Mallory, here, was instrumental in besting the formidable Wight. She used her magicks to lift the evil creature into the air, up above the floorboards. And there it  hung, unable to strike at us, whereupon it was quickly struck down by the paladin."

Rhydd fell silent for a moment, then added "The paladin told us in the aftermath of the battle that she was a squire of the Radiant Heart Auxiliary. None of that means anything to me. Do you know what a squire is? And have you ever heard tell of this . . . this Radiant Heart Auxiliary?"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:29, Sun 13 Feb 2022.

"I've heard of them, but never seen one in person," Markham replied. Rhydd's tale of the Wight's downfall brought out a slight smirk in him, despite him seeming the type not too generous with expressions. "They're a respected order, so it's no surprise Squire Kumalo impressed. And, hmm . . . perhaps their battle," he nodded to the Red Wizard, "would have been one to behold. Or perhaps it was a one-sided tromp. When she arrived, she bore not a scratch on her. The Radiant Heart Auxiliary are nothing to scoff at, and I cannot even begin to comprehend the power the main branch — The Holy Order — holds. For a junior Squire to join their ranks, they have to both serve in the junior branch for a long time and distinguish themselves from their peers. And there are no more than twenty-five senior members at any given time. So as you can imagine, most never ascend."

---

Markham's History Check on the Radiant Heart Auxiliary [18]: Yeah, that'll do it.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:59, Sun 13 Feb 2022.

"That is interesting," Rhydd remarked, seemingly quite impressed to hear about the Radiant Heart Order. Certainly, their squire had impressed him.

He took a moment to glance over at Lady Mallory, and satisfied himself that nothing untoward seemed to be going on, at least insofar as was evident to one  who was quite uneducated when it came to all things magickal.

"Just out of curiosity, did Squire Khulekani say whether she had trailed the mage, or whether they had met here by happenstance?"

"She arranged a meeting with him," Markham explained. "Somehow. He had fled to Hundelstone, a trade town just over the mountain pass, and was attempting to negotiate his way out his own mess. He agreed to meet with Squire Kumalo if and only if she fully disarmed herself. I suspect he thought he would have the upper hand. When she still demanded his unconditional surrender things turned sour fairly quickly."

---

I will reveal the results of Mallory's Identify once the conversation dies down. Just so we're all on the same page.
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:36, Mon 14 Feb 2022.

"It seems unlikely that her Order's vows would have allowed Squire Khulekani to be untruthful regarding whether or not she had disarmed herself. When time allows, I shall have to question her as to how she managed to best a powerful Red Wizard in such circumstances. I admit to being curious."

Rhydd glanced over at Lady Mallory, then at the Wight.

"Unless you have something else to add," he remarked to Sheriff Markham, "I suppose that we have little else to do other than await the results of Lady Mallory's investigation."

Instead of saying anything, Markham let the silence between them that followed speak for him.

The Red Wizard had somewhat calmed throughout Mallory’s ritual, but he still appeared tense under her touch. At various points he had mumbled through his gag, threatening to tear away her attention. Blood had begun streaking from his nose.

---

Mallory’s Identify results: The Red Wizard is affected by the spell Simulacrum.
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:17, Tue 15 Feb 2022.

The dull glow that shone through the leather of Mallory's glove took on a more defined form as, bit by bit, shimmering bands of light coalesced together into odd arcane shapes.  Like beams of a rainbow projected from a prism's facets.  The symbols came together into a complex and multi-layered glyph seven tiers deep that hovered in place over the back of Mallory's hand, all encircled within a sigil ring.  The same symbol reflected in the young noble's eyes before she blinked and, in that instant, it vanished away.

For a long moment she didn't say anything.  Her hand continued to rest on the Red Wizard's shoulder where it had come to lay in the first place.  Until she shifted down from her seat to instead kneel before the bound man and brush his matted hair off his brow.  A handkerchief was quickly drawn to blot away both sweat from his face and blood that had seeped down along his chin as she cradled the man's jaw in a gentle hold.  "You poor thing... I'm so, so sorry.  He had no right to do this." Her voice was soft but heavy with pity.

With a deep sigh she stood once more and retrieved her lantern rod from where it hung in mid-air, then turned her attention back toward the other men present.  She spared Rhydd a worried expression - clearly whatever she'd uncovered didn't settle well on her in the slightest.  Markham, however, would find her gaze steeled as she braced to give him some unpleasant news.  "I'm afraid your Red Wizard is still at large, sir.  This isn't him.  What you have here is a Simulacrum." she gestured to the bound captive and promptly continued since she figured nobody would understand what that meant on its face.  "It's a sort of... doppelganger.  A magically created duplicate.  It's a facsimile of the mage himself - all his memories, behaviors, and skills, but without the capacity to become its own person."
This message was last edited by the player at 08:21, Tue 15 Feb 2022.

On inspection, it was clear his nose was broken. And not only slightly so — it was completely shattered, the bone as rigid as a wet dishrag.

Markham stepped up beside Mallory. Contrary to the female mage, his expression did not convey sympathy or any of the like. "I see," he said. "That is unfortunate. Thank you — now the timeline of events make more sense. We were curious how he managed to move so quickly from town to town and assumed some form of teleportation." He paused as he further processed this new information. "When you say 'without the capacity to become his own person', what does that entail?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:46, Fri 25 Feb 2022.

"Given the nature of this spell, it's not as though he could have cast it in a reactionary manner to avoid capture.  But it's not at all unusual for powerful mages to use a Simulacrum as a sort of assistant.  Who better to aid you in your endeavors than another of yourself?" Mallory shook her head.

"When you say 'without the capacity to become his own person', what does that entail?"

That brought another pitying gaze on the poor wretch bound before them as Mallory mulled on how to phrase the matter.  "Please understand that I'm speaking from a theoretical perspective rather than practical experience; I've been tutored in many spells, but this one is quite unique." she prefaced.  "A Simulacrum is, in effect, a perfect copy of its creator.  But it bears a hollow, static existence; it can't grow, or learn, or better itself.  It has a will of its own but is beholden to the commands of its creator above all else.  And even if the Red Wizard were to die, the Simulacrum would not gain independence.

It can only weaken and degrade from this point on.  Its injuries will never heal, nor will it ever regain any arcane power already spent.  If you strike it down, or if the Red Wizard decides to create another to replace it, then it will simply crumble away into nothing more than slush and ice."  It was, in a way, perhaps cruel to speak of the Simulacrum's fate in front of him that way... but, as far as Mallory knew, a Simulacrum was aware of its own nature to begin with.  It wasn't as if illusory duplicates believed themselves to be the genuine article, especially if he had already been working alongside the real Red Wizard in the first place.

"It's an act of utmost cruelty by my measure.  To create a sentience, only for it to be used in so callous a manner." she hugged herself at the very thought.  "The Red Wizards of Thay are infamous for their abominable ways, though it says much of how craven they can truly be if they're even willing to inflict a version of themselves with such a fate."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 09:24, Tue 15 Feb 2022.

“So it is sentient,” Markham remarked. “It experiences pain? It’s more than a simple mirage?”

That sort of question earned Markham a rather wary look at first, but Mallory relented all the same.  "Yes, he does.  Despite the manner of its creation and existence a Simulacrum is, for all intents and purposes, the same being as its creator at the moment of its creation.  Until the moment the enchantment expires, this fellow is effectively the same as this Dzaan; they share all the same memories, mannerisms, and so forth."  She reached out once more to offer the bound entity a reassuring touch yet hesitated, then withdrew the gesture before it could land.

"This explains why there is no grimoire to be found; no Wizard would ever part with theirs.  Though I cannot be certain what spells are at their disposal without having the book to review, I can at least assure you that there are precious few of any danger that he might cast through nothing but a word alone." she continued. "I'll have to examine the captured items as well to make sure there's no magic among them but, that aside, you should be relatively safe in removing the gag if you wish to question him.  Just keep a few feet of distance or be prepared to gag him again if he begins to invoke anything."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:27, Tue 15 Feb 2022.

Markham let out a deep sigh, turning away from both Wizards. A few seconds passed, and it was clear he had no immediate intention to ungag the Red Wizard for questioning, despite Mallory's request. "I'm afraid this raises more questions than it answers. He may or may not be capable of magic. He may or may not be in communication with the real Dzaan. And, most importantly, he may or may not be innocent. In which case our current treatment of him would be indefensible." He thought for a few more seconds, standing straight and staring out the cell with his hands behind his back. "Would it be possible to erect an antimagic field of some kind?"

Rhydd shook his head as he listened to all that Lady Mallory had to say. "Clever bastard," he muttered under his breath. Given who was present, it seemed obvious enough whom he was talking about.

"I daresay that Squire Khulekani will not be pleased to learn of this."

Turning to Lady Mallory, he asked, "Is it possible that the Red Wizard might have more than one of these simul . . . whatevers active at the same time? Or is this one the only one whom we need to be concerned about?"

After pausing for a moment, the outdoorsman added another query directed to Lady Mallory. "So, then . . . do you have any idea how we should go about locating the real Red Wizard?"

"Regarding that," he added, tapping his chin-whiskers thoughtfully with a forefinger, "it seems to me that we would want our foe to continue to believe that we are unaware of his ruse. If that is the case, it seems to me that we should be very careful as to whom we tell about this . . . situation."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:42, Tue 15 Feb 2022.

"Would it be possible to erect an antimagic field of some kind?"

Before she could do anything about it, Mallory let out a barking laugh at such a suggestion.  Her hand immediately clapped across her mouth as a dark blush spread across her face, but a reflexive guffaw at such an apparently ludicrous request had gotten out all the same.  "I... ah... I apologize, that was terribly inappropriate of me." she cleared her throat primly.  "No, an antimagic field is quite out of the question, nor would it perform as you'd hope.  That would simply render a Simulacrum inert or possibly even destroy it."

Thankfully Rhydd spoke in and spared Mallory further focus from her faux pas, which she gratefully latched onto as quickly as she could.  "Only one Simulacrum may exist at a time; were another to be created, this one would harmlessly self-destruct.  The process of creating a Simulacrum is expensive and exhaustive, to the degree that very few mages could even successfully perform the ritual in the first place." she switched readily to an academic's tone to cover her butt.  "It requires rare, extremely expensive materials and an entire day of uninterrupted focus, through which the caster cannot eat, drink, or rest.  No, if the Wight was here in Bryn Shander attacking guards, I would imagine that Dzaan is unable to simply create a new Simulacrum and intended to have the Undead retrieve this one."

"It seems to me that we would want our foe to continue to believe that we are unaware of his ruse. If that is the case, it seems to me that we should be very careful as to whom we tell about this... situation."

"I would certainly agree about keeping the matter hush from the general public so as not to raise a panic, but it's safe to assume the real Red Wizard is already aware of the situation to some degree.  For a mage who can create Simulacrums and summon Wights, monitoring his copy with scrying or telepathy is mere child's play."  It did raise a troublesome matter to have on hand.  Whatever had drawn the Red Wizard so far east and urged such costly conjurations to aid him had to be very important, so it was unlikely he'd just cut and run.  But if he was backed into a proverbial corner and low on resources, he'd be especially dangerous.

"As for how to deal with this Simulacrum and how to find the real Dzaan?  Well..." Mallory sighed as she offered the bound prisoner a more critical gaze "I would say the Simulacrum is our best option.  This fellow here is, to every reasonable measure, Dzaan.  If he murdered people then it's either because he chose to do so or because the real Red Wizard commanded him.  Such a creature is not an innocent, blank slate being manipulated against its will by its creator.  It cannot defy commands, but a Simulacrum is of one mind with its creator to begin with; any conclusion one makes is the same the other would have.  Especially since the Simulacrum cannot change its perspective.  Both the creator and creation bear equal responsibility for any wrongdoing."  Her half-hidden gaze lifted instead to Markham.  "I understand it may be a difficult moral quandary, but I pity this fellow's state of being, not him.  He is every bit the wretch that the real Dzaan is, by definition, and deserves any justice meted against him for his crimes.  But one thing is certain of the Red Wizards; they are obsessed with their own self-interest.  I daresay this fellow here might be inclined to sell out his creator to spare his own hide.

I believe Squire Kumalo may be of service; I recall those of the divine order can magically induce truthfulness to gain confessions.  She would be instrumental in an interrogation come morning."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:13, Tue 15 Feb 2022.

Rhydd listened to Lady Mallory's explanation, and he prided himself that he actually understood most of it. Well, some of it, any way.

Looking back and forth between the Wizardess and the Sheriff, he remarked "Well, then. It sounds to me like bringing the Squire up to date on what is going on might well be our next step."

Turning to address Mallory, he added "Farwalker and Torgrim too, I would think -- as long as they are going to continue traveling with us. But I am inclined to draw the line there, and keep this knowledge limited to a rather small circle."

"Does that sound satisfactory?"

"Let's not get too ahead of ourselves, Rhydd." Mallory raised a gentle word of caution on the topic.  "This is the Sheriff's investigation, after all, and we're strangers to Bryn Shander.  Let's best not assume we're welcome to muddy about in matters simply because we've been permitted this far.

Besides, while I'm happy to volunteer my expertise in this sort of examination purely out of good will, contending with a murderous Red Wizard on the loose is a very different affair." she spared a sidelong look Markham's way along with a shrug.  "One that would demand not only careful preparation but suitable compensation."

Their little gaggle of cohorts had become rather in the habit of getting involved in local affairs of late, Mallory realized.  Some by request, others by their own wherewithal.  But she was already tasked with tracking down one murderer with a considerable bounty attached... goodness, if she wasn't careful, people might start to think she was some sort of adventuring vagabond hedge wizard!  "In my opinion, we should perhaps allow things to settle for the night.  Give Squire Kumalo a chance to recuperate, as well as both the good Sheriff and Simulacrum time to mull over their options.  Then reconvene in the morning?"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:23, Wed 16 Feb 2022.

Rhydd shrugged his shoulders. "As you wish," he replied.

"I admit to being out of my depth when it comes to matters pertaining to magicks of any stripe, so you must take the lead."

"Thank you for your aid," Markham nodded. He'd been facing away when Mallory laughed at his doltish question and given her no visible reaction, but had now turned his attention back to the Simulacrum. "You've given me a great deal to think on. Let me know where you are staying, and I will send someone to fetch you come morning. I hope Squire Kumalo may lend us her powers once more — any willing priests capable of truth zones have been driven from the town. Though if we can get him to answer our questions is another matter."

Markham, with his hands kept at his back in statuesque composure, stepped out of the cell and waited for Rhydd and Mallory before locking the door. Within, the Simulacrum remained chained, gagged, and blindfolded.

"We've yet to square away our quarters for the night, but once we figure it out among our companions I'll send word here to inform you." Mallory followed along quickly when they were ushered along.  Astre had likewise scampered up to rejoin the group since they'd finished and gave a sour yowl at his partner's idea of 'sending word'.

"Yes, that means you.  I don't want to hear you complain about it; you can fly and have fur to keep the snow off."

"Rrrwl!" the Tressym countered.

"Fine, I promise." she assured him in return as he gave a hop to land himself across her shoulders once more.  The young noble gave a sort of 'what can you do?' expression to the men about her.  "In any case, I can either take the Simulacrum's possessions with me to review overnight, or do it here if you'd rather not let them go.  I doubt there's any magic among them given this discovery but there's no harm in being cautious."

She gestured over to where the Wight's remains were bound up in another cell.  "I'd also like to remove whatever lingering necrotic essence is still within the Wight.  It's thankfully a quick process and one that doesn't require magic; I could even teach you both how to do it, just in case you ever have to contend with Undead disposal again."
This message was last edited by the player at 08:40, Wed 16 Feb 2022.

"Yes. If you wait here, I'll send in a guard," Markham replied to Mallory's offer to tutor them in ways of getting rid of any lasting necrotic magic within the Wight, "if you could show him. In the meantime, I'll lay out the Wizard's . . . Simulacrum's," he corrected himself, "possessions, though I have to insist they don't leave this building. Especially the wand. You may join me in my office for an inspection once you finish here." He then headed for the door, and a guard — the one who had been keeping watch in Markham's office and outside the cell area — soon entered with his own set of keys to unlock the Wight's cell.

The dead body laid motionless, constricted tightly by chains. No rattling or faint twitching of the fingers indicated any remaining motor functions, nor did it reek. Had it not been for its sickly complexion and the dull, grey flesh exposed at its neck, it could easily have been mistaken for any other freshly decapitated body. The guard, a tall middle-aged man, surveyed Mallory, prepared to follow instructions or replicate the steps she laid out. Markham had clearly already briefed him.

"As you wish, sir."  Mallory wasn't surprised that Markham wouldn't want the items removed from his control but, at the same time, she was rather inwardly annoyed.  It was going to take her some time to finish checking everything thoroughly and she'd rather have done it in the comfort of somewhere with good companions, warm hearth, and strong drink.

In the meantime, she moved along to examine the Wight's corpse.  Thankfully it seemed the guards had shed her blanket and rope into a pile nearby when they'd chained it up, so she quickly recovered those with a quick flourish of cleaning magic to ensure they had no lingering Undead musk, then bundled them back to her satchel.  When the guard arrived she offered him a polite nod of her head and gestured to the laid out remains.  "Good evening, sir, come this way please.  You too, Rhydd; one never knows when this sort of thing will come in handy.  I'll spare you the extended lecture on the topic of Undead but, in short, their bodies are animated by necrotic energy.  For lesser Undead like Skeletons and Zombies, the energy is spread throughout the entire form very thinly - just hit them hard enough and it disperses like a popped soap bubble.  Greater Undead like Ghouls, Wights, Vampires, and the sort?  They're trickier.  The necrotic energy condenses into a single point somewhere within their body and must be removed lest it contaminate the area after their demise."

The young noble shook her hand about briskly to work away any stiffness from the cold then, with her fingers splayed out limp and totally relaxed, slowly began to sweep her hand up and down the length of the Wight's form from head to toe.  "Necrotic energy is antithetical to living beings, so we sense it reflexively.  Animals are especially keen at it.  If you simply relax your hand and sweep across where the necrotic crystallization is, you'll feel your fingers begin to cramp."  She swept across the body several times before, just as her palm crossed over its left bicep, her fingers slowly curled inward in an echo of rigor mortis.  "Ah!  There it is.  Here, each of you try and see what it feels like yourselves." she invited the men to mimic her motions and feel the blood-chilling sensation of being so near to raw necrotic energy.

Once they had their turn at it one way or another, Mallory drew her field knife and made a careful incision over where she'd detected the welling of lingering energy.  To cut into a withered Undead's flesh was both easier and more difficult than fresh in different ways - it was dry and brittle without any splash of blood, but toughened by exposure and cold like leather.  But with enough wiggling of her knife she leveraged the gap open and reached in with gloved fingers to carefully tug free a tiny, matte black mass that looked akin to a naturally-formed mineral crystal.  Barely any bigger than a coin.  "There we are.  Quite diminished; it seems as though Squire Kumalo's attack destroyed much of the necrotic essence in the body to begin with.  All the better, really." she appraised the nasty little crystal in the light before she wrapped it in a spare bit of cloth for safe-keeping.  "If you don't remove the necrotic essence from an Undead, it increases their chance of reanimation.  Bury their corpse and the necrotic energy will seep into the surrounding earth, poisoning the plants and animals in short order, while also drawing more Undead to it.  If you burn it?  Half of Bryn Shander would come down with a heaving case of Crypt Lung before the week was out.

Once removed, the corpse can be disposed of by normal means safely, and the crystal itself can be destroyed by submerging it in a two-to-one ratio of holy water and high-proof alcohol, which will destroy the liquids and crystal alike.  I'll see to it this is done away with myself."

Rhydd pursed his lips thoughtfully and listened to Lady Mallory as the wizardess explained about Undead and something called "Necrotic Energy." The archer had never heard about any such thing, but then he would be the first to admit that there was much that he didn't know about magicks and the like. In fact, there was much more on the "Don't Know" side of the Ledger than on the "Know" side when it came to magicks.

He tentatively lowered his own hand when Lady Mallory invited him to experience the effects of the Wight's little concentration of Necrotic Energy for himself. The first thought that he had was that his hand felt somewhat paralyzed, the same way his arm did whenever he bumped the so-called "funny bone" in his elbow too hard.

The next thing that happened was that unlike the manner in which he had seen Lady Mallory's hand react to the dark Necrotic Energy, the fingers of his own had began to twitch and dance about, as if his hand were a spider that had landed on a hot stove.

"Ugh!" he exclaimed, yanking his hand away and cradling it with the unaffected hand.

"That's . . . I don't like it, not one little bit," he muttered.

He turned to Lady Mallory. "Can the Red Wizard re . . ." here he fumbled for the right word. "Can he put more of that Necrotic Energy into the Wight from afar? Or is he too far away for those sort of magicks to work?"

Mallory likewise gave a rather surprised exclamation to Rhydd's response, which in turn made Astre fluff up and bristle in a quick chain reaction of flinches.  "Goodness!  I'm sorry, Rhydd; I wasn't expecting such a strong reflex.  Some people are especially sensitive to Planar energies though... you aren't allergic, are you?" she immediately abandoned her scholarly air for one of prompt concern and reached out to take Rhydd's hand, only for it to be cradled away himself.

As for matters of the Undead's revival, she shook her head.  "No, the process of raising even the most basic of Undead servants requires various components beyond the Simulacrum's reach." she assured.  "And if the Simulacrum has been casting any spells prior, that arcane power will never return to him, so he can't repeat powerful magics."

The guard, along with Rhydd, followed the steps Mallory had laid out. Seek. Curl. Cut. Simple enough for even the dullest of guards to recall. "Good thing you're here," the tall guard spoke, "we might have buried him if not. Figure he won't be kept in a cell for all eternity . . ."

---

Once accompanied, Markham laid out the items belonging to the Simulacrum on his desk. "As I said, not much," he spoke, surveying the various coins and wand in front of him, "I know not the first thing about magic, so you'll have to inform me on the significance of the wand. If need be, it can be destroyed." Three copper, twenty silver, and five gold, as Markham had specified earlier, were all neatly arranged and sorted. "We'll concern ourselves with matters of the investigation tomorrow morning. For now, only the security of the prisoner and the citizens are of importance."

Once things were settled in the jail and they'd reunited with Markham, Mallory took a moment to glimpse over the varied items laid out.  Nothing leaped out immediately to her senses as bearing a magical aura, though she was well-aware a cautious mage could mask simple dweomers if they cared to.  Though if the Red Wizard was going around conjuring Wights, Simulacrums, and murdering people while seeming to appear in two places at once, she wondered if he was really all that concerned about being inconspicuous.

"Wands serve multiple purposes for a spellcaster; sometimes they contain spells of their own, though they are most often a medium through which our magic might be channeled.  Without a foci or a suitable material to serve as a conduit, it's difficult to shape magical energies into any sort of useful form.  The real trouble people run into is that it's hard to tell what items are dangerous in the hands of a mage when even the most innocuous of items are potent tools in our arsenal."  Mallory explained as she took up the wand in hand and began her concentration.  "A twig, a drink of water, one of their own eyelashes.  It's possible to read minds with nothing more than a single copper coin.  Summon a blade of searing flame with spices from your dinner.  I'm not at all a combative sort yet even I can tear a hole into another dimension with some rope or overwhelm an entire crowd with a bit of dust."

---

Mallory ritually casts "Identify", first on the Wand and again on the coins.  Hopefully the coins can all just be scanned together rather than one at a time, else we're going to be here for the next several hours watching Mallory chant.  ^^;
This message was last edited by the player at 23:14, Fri 18 Feb 2022.

Rhydd's eyes grew wide as Lady Mallory reeled off a series of innocuous, everday objects that magickers could use to sow murder and mayhem, if they so desired. How could a normal person deal with such deceit and misdirection?

It seemed to the archer  that the answer was -- they couldn't. Thus, the old saying "It takes one to know one" seemed to be doubly true of magickers. You needed a friendly magicker to deal with the unfriendly sorts who might be trying to kill you . . . or, at least make your life decidedly unpleasant.

~~Luckily, it so happens that we've got one -- a friendly wizardess, that is.~~

There didn't seem to be much to do other than stand around and watch as Lady Mallory went to work on the objects that had been recovered from the fake Red Wizard.

And so that was what Rhydd did . . .

None of the coins bore any magical aura. Nor did the wand, as it appeared like a simple twig and similarly to any other magical focus, it itself was not inherently magical. The room fell silent as Mallory conducted a closer inspection with Identify. When it concluded, she received confirmation that all these items were indeed mundane. Pocket change, after all.

"I see," Markham said. "The items will still remain in this room for the time being. We'll reconvene tomorrow to further question the Simulacrum. Perhaps now that the ruse has been unveiled he'll be more inclined to talk. I'll see you to the exit." With that, Markham headed out of the office, leading the way back up the stairs.

That same odd, arcane light glowed through the back of Mallory's glove as she performed her analysis but, unlike before, it didn't manifest into any sort of coherent sigil upon completion.  The light simply faded away, seemingly to no results.  To which the young noble just sighed quietly in a mix of relief and a little disappointment.

"Given that it's a duplicate in custody and not the real Dzaan, I'm not too surprised that he wouldn't have any magic items in his possession.  Still, better safe than sorry.  As the coins are just coins, then do with them as you will.  Perhaps give them to Mister Ogden to help repay a bit of his lost business from tonight." Mallory concluded as she straightened the lay of her coat with a tug.  "As for the wand: don't destroy it.  Assuming it does indeed belong to the real Dzaan originally, it's possible to use it as a medium for divination to locate him."

As Markham led the way back outside, Mallory offered Rhydd a gentle shrug and fell in step.  They'd done all they could for the evening and she was frankly more than ready to collapse into a bed, with or without a drink first.  Though the realization that they still weren't done yet and would have to find an inn to put them up for the evening drained away at what little enthusiasm she had left in her by that point.  "Just so you're aware, sir, the services I've rendered so far would've normally cost you, in all, around five hundred gold pieces at standard rates.  I volunteered myself tonight out of a sense of civic responsibility and, please don't mistake me, I'm very grateful for the trust and patience you've shown so far.  That said, if you've need of my arcane expertise going forward, I would advise you address the Town Speaker about having a budget approved.  I am at your service, but I do have my own expenses to think of."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:04, Mon 21 Feb 2022.

"I understand fully," Markham replied as he held open the door. By his lack of gloves and coat, it seemed he had intention to stay after Mallory and Rhydd had left. "Arcane expertise is hard to come by. You have my greatest appreciations for the services you've provided today. If you need any supplies for tomorrow, let me know and I can see it arranged."
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:39, Mon 21 Feb 2022.

Rhydd paused, and turned to face Sheriff Markham as the threesome came to the door of the town hall, and the wizardess and archer steeled themselves to step out into the bone-chilling cold.

"We aren't out of the woods -- as the old saying goes -- yet, I don't believe," he opined.

"But as I'm sure you realize, Sheriff, this could have gone worse -- much worse."

Turning his attention to Lady Mallory Rhydd said "Ready when you are."

Markham stood waiting in his office, looking over a document in his hands as his summons were let in. He seemed thoughtful, folding it up and setting it aside as the room became more crowded. Four guards were stationed both inside and outside the door, indicative of the heightened security Markham had ordered the previous night. "Good morning," he said. "I apologize for calling upon you so abruptly. Hopefully you've had time to break fast. Are there any preparations you'd want to be made as we commence the interrogation? Any items you'd require? Speak, and we'll have it arranged."

A short and lithe lady in an elegant, furlined coat of blue and gold stood by the entrance. While her face was slight, perhaps even mousy, she bore it with confidence, nose upturned as she silently spectated the arrival of those who would aid in the matter of the Red Wizard. This was Duvessa Shane, the Town Speaker of Bryn Shander.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:39, Fri 11 Mar 2022.

If it had been left up to the near-hermit of an outdoorsman, Rhydd would have simply ignored Markham's so-called "Summons". The archer had scant patience for those who lived inside towns and rarely ventured outside their walls, but made a practice of over-emphasizing their own importance inside those very walls.

However, Rhydd did not entirely trust Squire Khulekani at this point -- the remembrances of yestereve when Khylekani had impulsively laid hands on Lady Mallory and frightened the wizardess were still fresh in his mind.

And so it was that he went with the others over to the Town Hall, although he made no effort to sugar-coat his opinion of Markham's Summons by masking his own irritable expression.

Back at Town Hall once more.  It had really only been a few hours gone since they'd been active so late the night prior and then started so early that morning.  The biting cold outside had been useful to help wake up, at the very least.  Though it had done nothing to benefit Mallory's mood as a combination of tiredness, cold, hunger, and mounting dread all had her fighting to keep a scowl off her painted lips.

"Good morning, Sheriff.  And no, we haven't had breakfast.  If some broth or kaeth could be spared from the kitchen, I'm sure we'd be much obliged." the young noble managed to keep herself from sounding cross, though she honestly didn't expect any sort of hot drink to be presented on request either.

Though no introductions had been offered for the elegantly dressed woman in the Sheriff's company, even a stranger to the area as Mallory was recognized her immediately.  Bryn Shander might've been a backwater hole in the ice by her standards but it was still a major export town.  Its leader was a known figure and one Mallory had the good sense to offer a polite curtsy to in turn.  "Speaker.  I take it by your presence today that the severity of this situation hasn't been underestimated.  I've prepared a few additional spells that will assists with the interrogation and secure the prisoner against outside interference in the meantime." she offered Markham a glance and a cheeky smile "It's no anti-magic field, but it'll serve our needs."

---

Meanwhile, Astre fluttered about on his own outside in the bright, cold morning air.  Downy wings carried him on the breeze as he circled Town Hall from the sky and alighted himself onto a high peak to settle in for a stake-out.

---

Astre is staying outside on a high vantage point where he can keep an eye on things, while still remaining within Telepathy range with Mallory.  He'll move to maintain range as need be.  Otherwise his focus will be on keeping an eye on things outside the building and giving warning if it seems anyone/thing suspicious shows up.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:13, Sat 12 Mar 2022.

Khulekani had not slept well, though you would not be able to tell at the moment. After only a few hours of sleep, she had risen, taken a quick sponge bath in her helpfully provided room, changed into clean clothes, oiled and polished both her weapons and chainmail, twisted any stray hairs back into her locks, and generally made herself look like she was going to Tenthday Mass. And while there had been no time for breakfast, she had taken a long, steadying drink of ice-cold water before answering the summons.

And while the Squire looked once more like the shining knight that her Order liked to embody, it was clear from the downward cast of her eyes, and the brief, furtive glances at the others in her little impromptu group that she was anything but the confident young woman she was trying to appear to be.

When they were formally introduced to Duvessa Shane, Khulekani rose to her full height and clicked her heels together as if she was being inspected upon the parade grounds of her Order.

"Hail and well met, Speaker. Would be it that we were meeting under better circumstances. And good morrow to you, Sheriff. I fear we will keep meeting under less than pleasant times..." the Squire said with a respectful bow.

"I would rather not take meal until after the...unpleasant task that falls to us," she continued evenly.

"I would ask that you return this to the coffers of Tentowns. I was fooled by this magical creation, and I will not take a reward that was not earned. Second, I ask that after we have extracted whatever information we can out of the thing, you allow me to destroy the creation. It can serve no purpose for good, and ending its mockery of life might bring me some small penance," Khulekani asked seriously as he placed a large leather sack heavy with coin on the nearby table.

"Well, if you don't want the fee, I'll take it.  My spells and expertise are not inexpensive practices, I'll have you know." Part of Mallory couldn't deny that such a remark out the side of her mouth wasn't entirely in jest.

She offered Khulekani a soft shake of her head before her gaze turned back to Markham for some kind of back-up on the matter.  "From what I'm aware, Squire Kumalo has earned her pay by capturing the murderous Red Wizard.  Isn't that the case, Sheriff?  The fact that he was a Simulacrum doesn't absolve him of his crimes nor invalidate her feat.  Work done is pay deserved." the noble could only argue on financial practices just then.  What would become of the Simulacrum - be it containment or execution - wasn't up to her to debate one way or another.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:09, Sat 12 Mar 2022.

The morning was quiet. Astre, sat ever watchful upon the tall building, observed a near-vacant town market. Only a single commoner passed through with business elsewhere.

---

"There is no need to return the payment," the Sheriff said, echoing Mallory's sentiment. "It has been issued. It is a done matter. I think the Speaker would agree." Markham didn't look Duvessa Shane's way, nor did the woman nod — the understanding between them existed silently. "As for the Simulacrum's innocence, we are still in discussion. I will not punish another being — for you assured me it was another being yesterday," he commented, leveling his gaze at Mallory, "— for crimes it has not committed. Thoughts alone does not a criminal make. Crimes do. I ask that you bear with me. I have never had to sentence a Simulacrum before." The otherwise tough man, stood leaning with both arms upon his desk, looked deflated. At a loss.

Speaker Duvessa found herself a chair and gently sat down, ensuring her coat was in proper order before crossing her legs. It seemed she expected these matters to take a while.

"I have spoken with it," Markham continued. "Yesterday, after you left. He did not confess to any murders nor did he reveal the locations of the missing adventurers. But perhaps it will be different once he is upheld to divine truth. Furthermore, we cannot promise you, Squire Kumalo, the destruction of the entity. Since the Red Wizard is still at large, it might hold information on his whereabouts, regardless of what is revealed today. And since it is Dzaan, save his crimes, it would be worthwhile keeping it around both as assurance and as a dispenser of insights relating to his magic should the need to combat him arise."

"In short," Duvessa spoke softly from her seat, "it is not an edge we should readily part with."
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:04, Sat 12 Mar 2022.

There was a mild sense of frustration that knitted Mallory's brow as others continued to insist that the Simulacrum was somehow not at fault by nature of it being a Simulacrum.  She thought she'd explained herself well the night before, but it was perhaps a bridge too far to expect others to be able to so cleanly compartmentalize a matter like she'd been trained to do.  To divide the feelings from the fact.  She still struggled with it herself, admittedly.

"The Simulacrum is not merely some quick decoy cast out to distract pursuers while the true guilty party escapes.  It has its own will, limited by the nature of its creator as it may be.  If the Simulacrum did indeed kill those people, then both it and the real Dzaan are responsible.  A Simulacrum cannot defy the will of its creator, but it also cannot act in defiance of its own nature.  The thoughts and mannerisms of Dzaan and the Simulacrum are one in the same; if he has killed, it's because he was willing to do so, regardless of commands." Mallory reasserted.  A quick flick of her fingers yielded some slight of hand - a simple trick that produced a single copper coin seemingly out of nowhere.  She deftly rolled the coin up and down across her knuckles, apparently just to show off.  "Squire Kumalo's efforts will coerce the Simulacrum to speak.  And, even if he does try to wiggle and weasel in his wording, my own magics will both prevent outside interference and plunder his inner thoughts.  To that same end, I will submit myself voluntarily to the Squire's influence so that you may all trust that I too only report honestly in my findings.

One way or another, we will have the truth."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:20, Sat 12 Mar 2022.

"In a way I hope the Simulacrum was the one who did the killings," the Sheriff added. "That would make this whole affair much simpler."

"I apologize, there seems to have been some miscommunication on my part. I wasn't seeking your permission to return the reward money. I was asking that you see it back to your stores. Because I will not take what what I have not earned. I am not a Solicitor: Technicalities will not sooth my conscience. I will not take your gold until the real Dzaan has been arrested or slain for his crimes," the young woman said quietly, but firmly.

"I may not be a cloistered priestess, but I know enough of these magics to tell you that the Simulacrum is not ensouled. By the gods or any other power. It may appear to be a person, but it is a crude approximation of a mind, personality, or whatever term you wish to use. Slaying it should trouble you no more than snuffing a flame that is getting dangerously close to becoming a hazard," Khulekani insisted, knowing well her theological studies.

"But you are the leaders here. I will assist you and defer to your decisions, as long as they be just," the Squire said with a respectful bow.

OOC Mechanics
15:19, Today: Khulekani Kumalo rolled 17 using 1d20+6.  Persuasion.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:20, Sun 13 Mar 2022.

Mallory only barely managed to contain a roll of her eyes at Khulekani's insistence of giving up her fee.  Leave it to a follower of Ilmater to cherish self-inflicted wounds.  While the sentiment was noble at heart, Mallory's more business-oriented nature could not overlook throwing away money earned so easily.

"The Simulacrum's continued existence is indeed a threat.  If the real Dzaan did send that Wight here to free or slay his duplicate, then he will repeat that attempt no matter the danger it poses to Bryn Shander.  Destroying it would be a wise course of action." the noble wasn't at odds with Khulekani on that regard.  "Though it's not one that should be taken hastily either.  Let us learn what we can first.  There is reward to be gained in risk, especially from the mind of a Red Wizard."

---

Persuasion - I suppose this is more a case of Mallory arguing to try and bargain with the Simulacrum rather than just immediately executing it after the interrogation?  Mallory isn't going to raise a fuss about it either way though.

Mallory Bonheur rolled 12 using 1d20+4

"We appreciate your insights," the Speaker said from where she sat. Though, in this particular instance, the astute listener could perhaps glean that the delivery indicated the opposite was true.

I wasn't seeking your permission to return the reward money. I was asking that you see it back to your stores.
Markham seemed momentarily lost in thought. He had not internally resolved the moral dilemma as easily as Mallory and Khulekani had. "Very well," he said. "If that is what you wish, we will see it so the gold is returned. For now, I suggest we proceed with the interrogation. Once inside, both I and the Speaker will supervise, but I will let you do as you see fit. I ask you that you choose your words carefully, so as not to give it any leverage. Remain in control. The Simulacrum must know no more than is absolutely necessary. And, by the end, I'd like to pose it some of my own questions." He did not wait for any acknowledgements, but simply made to lead his visitors into the cell area.

---

Many of the Simulacrum's privileges had been restored. It was no longer bound, chained, or gagged. Now, it was sat on the bench, staring at the floor. In a way, with its nose still shattered and visage forlorn, it looked even more emasculated now than it had been bound. Truly a pathetic husk of a man. Be it from unwillingness or incapability, it did not make eye contact with any of its visitors. The Wight was still kept within its cell, its lifeless body still strapped to the bench — disposing of the Undead had not been at the forefront of priorities.

Silence clung to the air as Markham unlocked the Simulacrum's barred door and led Rhydd, Mallory, Khulekani, and the Speaker inside. Duvessa Shane assumed a position near the back as the Sheriff locked everyone inside before he gave berth for the preparations the mage and the Squire needed to make.

As the group began to set off down the hall, Mallory lingered but a moment longer beside the deposited bag of gold Khulekani surrendered.  She made sure to catch Markham's eye and wiggled her fingers over the bag, brows lifted with an imploring "May I?" sort of expression.  After all, if the Squire didn't want it... though all it would take was the slightest frown or shake of Markham's head for her to give up on that endeavor with a helpless shrug.

---

If Markham doesn't mind, Mallory will absolutely take that bag of coin, because Wizards finances be low and their utilitarianism be high.  But she'll leave it where it lies if there's any show of disapproval from Markham or Duvessa.

---

There was a part of Mallory which had to confess to some level of excitement at the prospect of the interrogation.  She knew much of Simulacrums in a sterile, detached sense.  She'd seen them before, conjured for demonstration or in the employ of far more powerful mages she'd tutored under in her youth.  The practice was never one that settled well on her soul, but she couldn't deny a scholarly curiosity at the opportunity to truly interact with one independent of its creator.  A Red Wizard, at that!  The sort of man she would be rightfully terrified of and disgusted by in any other case.  It made for a confusing yet bizarrely enticing prospect - truly a one in a lifetime chance that she couldn't possibly pass by.

That said, the noble went wide-eyed and flinched back on reflex the moment they entered the jail and saw that the Simulacrum had been given free run of its cell.  A hand instantly lifted, ready to ward off a threat the others didn't seem to realize could come.  Though "Dzaan"'s sundered, sullen state presented no attack.  All the same, she leaned nearer to Markham to speak in a galled whisper.  "Why in the world did you unbind him?!  Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?  He can still cast some spells without a focus!" she insisted with the tone as if she'd found Markham leaving a lit candle atop barrels of lantern oil.

Hypothetical scolding aside, however; there was a job still to be done.  Mallory gathered herself and gestured for the others to draw nearer into the cell with her.  "I'll need a few minutes to prepare, so please hold a moment, Squire.  Rhydd?  If he so much as twitches in our direction..." she left that request hanging, out of trust in both Rhydd's manner and knack.  If there was anyone she could trust to keep a watchful guard while she worked, it was him.

Once everyone was prepared in their own manner, the young noble raised her Lantern Rod overhead and began a low chant as she had the day before.  A lengthy ritual process yet again, but one that bore a different and more telling result for those nearby.  The light from the lantern began to bow and warp as Mallory cast her strange spell; it coalesced into a shimmering field that bubbled across the span of the jail cell and all those within.  Anyone outside the field would see its walls slowly grow more and more to an opaque, smokey grey until everything within was completely hidden from view.  Those inside the field, however, could still see through it perfectly well as the barrier appeared as little more than a gently fogged glass.  Most immediately notable, however, was the instant shift in atmosphere; the temperature promptly became a comfortable neutral point - neither hot nor cold, but just perfectly temperate, with the faint scent of almonds and vanilla in the air.

---

Mallory ritually casts "Leomund's Tiny Hut" within the jail cell to include the Simulacrum and everyone else who wants to be involved in the interrogation.  Anyone who is inside the bubble when the spell is cast can freely pass through it as they wish, but if they were outside it before they cannot pass into it once it's up.  The Tiny Hut is opaque from the outside, but sound still carries through, so anyone outside of it can still hear and speak to those inside.  https://roll20.net/compendium/dnd5e/Tiny%20Hut#content
This message was last edited by the player at 21:29, Mon 14 Mar 2022.

"Oof, I really should not have skipped breakfast." Torgrim lamented after taking in the pleasant smell of the magic field. "Should be plenty of time for that after our little conversation though." He glanced over toward the Simulacrum while twiddling with one of his unsheathed daggers. "Provided I'll still have an appetite, that is."

Rhydd was quick to nock an arrow and hold his bow at the ready when Mallory asked him to watch for suspicious activity on the part of the magicked creature -- in spite of all the discussions that had been ongoing, he was still uncertain as to whether it was a "he" or an "it".

The archer had initially been alerted to the fact that all might not be well when Lady Mallory virtually hissed her questions about Markham's giving the prisoner free run of his/its cell, so he was not surprised when the wizardess made her request of him.

He nodded to Torgrim when the Half-Elf unsheathed one of his daggers and glanced over towards the imitation Red Wizard. "Good. Help me keep watch, if you would. Your eyes might be quicker than mine to notice some tell-tale sign that all is not right with him . . . it. I am not well-versed in the ways of magicks."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:28, Wed 16 Mar 2022.

As Mallory cast her spell, Khulekani kept her eyes trained on the Simulacrum. Her brown eyes were hard, and focused, which was most unlike her normally open and kind look. The gloved hand at her side never left the hilt of her blade as the magical construct appeared around them. It was a magic that she was unfamiliar with, but the Paladin recognized it's purpose as she felt the comfortable air wash over her. She gave a small nod to Mallory before undertaking her part of this unpleasant business.

The chainmail clad warrior began walking a slow circle around the Simulacrum, staying just out of arm's reach. As she walked, a slow, steady prayer began to spill from her lips. Almost a whisper at first, but it grew into a thunderous command with every light step.

"Tyr, help me to seek truth today –
To find it in places and people that escape my gaze.
Teach me that in truth there is wisdom and understanding.
May seeking truth help me overcome fears and faithlessness.

God of Justice, help me to strive for truth in all that I do –
That my thoughts, words, and actions may reflect Your wisdom.
Show me that only in truth will I be free –
To live honestly and courageously,
To seek wholeheartedly and unconditionally.

Blind One, help me to cherish truth –
Knowing that You are the author of all that is right, honest, and true.
May truth reign in my heart, no matter what horrors I face –
Lies, mockery, confusion, or betrayal.
Your truth gives me clarity and peace.

Grimjaws, You created justice.
You are Truth.
Help me to know truth when I see it;
Learn truth when I am taught it;
Love truth,
Live truth.

Help me to share truth with others –
Those who are lost and wandering,
The brokenhearted and weary,
Anyone who is suffering from the pain of lies.

When I am a daughter of truth, I am free to be
Fully alive, fully myself
And an honest reflection of You.

Truth strengthens me
Guides me
Leads me
Protects me
Keeps me.
I am constant when I dwell in Your truth.
I am unafraid of what I may face.
I am vigilant and poised for speaking
The witness of who You are in truth."

When she spoke the final syllable, there was a subtle pulse in the air. Like heat rising from cobbled stone on a summer day. And at the edge of hearing, there was the sound of chains gently clashing together. And it was done. Speaking lies in this magical hut suddenly became much more difficult.

"Now...speak, thing. Where is the one who made you?" Khulekani asked coolly.


OOC Mechanics
Cast: Zone of Truth
Save DC 14

With the protective field set in place, Mallory once more tucked the Lantern Rod behind herself to lock it in place as a seat while Khulekani performed her own ritual.  The lengthy prayer was one that caught her ear as curious; as the Squire was unfamiliar with some arcane methods, so too was Mallory unfamiliar with some practiced by the divine.  But when the enchantment finally suffused the air and fell onto everyone within its reach, the young noble felt its invisible pressure weigh on her and let it flow across without resistance.

---

Mallory willingly fails her Saving Throw vs. Zone of Truth.  If the Simulacrum attempts to resist the spell, she'll use a Portent, but otherwise won't interfere at the moment.  She'll wait until questioning is underway before casting "Detect Thoughts" for the sake of avoiding redundancy.

Farwalker had remained quiet through everything, though that didn't mean she wasn't listening. She found much of the current situation to be more than a little ridiculous, but it was what it was. When everyone filed into the small space, she opted to stay out. Mostly because she wouldn't really fit in there with so many people. She even had to duck down through most of the doorways. The woes of being tall in a town of short people.

As Mallory's fingers wiggled above the fat coin pouch, it was not Markham who gave her a disapproving look, but Duvessa. "Absolutely not," she spoke. "You will receive your due payment. Test me further, and you might find my generosity dwindling." The reprimand was followed by the sharp clack of her heels as the office was vacated.

---

The Simulacrum's attention remained fixed to the ground as Khulekani finished her incantation and Mallory further shrunk the enclosure. Markham and Duvessa found themselves up against the wall inside the Hut, which, with seven individuals occupying it, had become rather cramped. "I did not find its . . . his state of being dignified. When I had him chained in the manner you saw yesterday, it was under the presumption that he was our culprit. Now, that situation has changed, and so too has his." Markham responded to Mallory's objection to the Simulacrum's free reign, leaning closer to avoid his words carrying. "Though I'll forfeit that it was reckless. If you wish, I can see him bound and blindfolded again."

The drawing of daggers and knocking of arrows tugged on the Simulacrum's attention where the casting of spells and rites had failed. "My . . . what an entourage, I must say," the decaying being croaked, its voice stuffed by its shattered nose. "Consider me honored."

"Now...speak, thing. Where is the one who made you?"
"Six feet under . . . or in a pile of ash," it answered without hesitation. The words bore truth, for Khulekani could sense within her that the entity had not struggled against the effects of her charm. Rather, it had submitted, fully and wholly.

---

The Simulacrum willingly fails its Saving Throw vs. the Zone of Truth.
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:39, Thu 17 Mar 2022.

Time would tell if the Simulacrum would need to be bound once more... though a blindfold secured about his skull would've been the least Mallory could hope for.  The real question was whether the stern-mannered authorities of Bryn Shander would see fit to let the Simulacrum live long enough to need further captivity.

"It would behoove you to be more forthcoming.  There's no benefit to dragging this out with being cryptic." Mallory advised.  Despite the dire warning she'd issued earlier, her tone came soft once more, especially in contrast to Khulekani's commanding presence.  Another case of the sweet and sour approach, it seemed.  "Please, elaborate?  What do you know of your creator's fate and his intentions here in Icewind Dale to begin with?"
This message was last edited by the player at 11:19, Thu 17 Mar 2022.

"Ah . . ." the Simulacrum continued, scrunching its mouth and nose as a streak of blood seeped through the bandages, "my one hope is that what behooves me behooves you. For you know I am naught but a copy of the real Dzaan, who exists no more. I know not what fate he suffered. All I know is he is dead. If my failed Message wasn't proof enough, the Wight coming for me is." He rubbed away some of the blood, taking care not to brush against his broken nose. "If I give you all I know I fear I might outlive my use. So instead of guaranteeing my destruction, I will hedge my bets. Are you familiar with the Arcane Brotherhood?"

Mention of the Arcane Brotherhood gave Mallory pause to cast an inquisitive look about - in particular to Khulekani and Duvessa.  "Broadly.  A cadre of cultists and usurpers who try very hard to bury their sordid history beneath a veil of academia." Whether she was simply being blunt or succinct for the sake of the uninformed present was anyone's guess.  To hear them brought up again with all that had been underway with Arkemos lately didn't settle well on Mallory's suspicions.  "I could conjure a hundred reasons a Red Wizards would be interested in the Brotherhood.  What's Dzaan's involvement, then?"

"They are a sorry bunch, regrettably," the Simulacrum responded. "Dzaan was-" he strained his brown and grunted, as if someone had struck him over the head. "I am a full-fledged member. As such, I am privy to a great number of the mysteries of this region. Have the first one on me — some leagues from here, there lies a spire to the ancient Netherese Enclave Ythryn. A trove of knowledge of unparalleled splendor! Long forgotten . . . As you've heard from the good Sheriff, I sent a triad of adventurers to investigate. I will lead you there."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:57, Thu 17 Mar 2022.

Mallory herself was in no position to attempt a bargain one way or another, nor was she particularly inclined to believe the Simulacrum despite the truth-compelling spell in place.  The entire Sword Coast, though particularly the far north, was absolutely riddled with Netherese ruins reputed and rumored to hold vast wonders.  Tell of yet another was little to be lured by, especially if it was so out of reach as to be a trouble for a Red Wizard.

Thus the noble offered to remark or reply on the matter just then.  She instead gave Khulekani a prompting raise of her brows; it was as much her interrogation as any, and the Simulacrum had brought up the murdered adventurers himself, after all.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:14, Thu 17 Mar 2022.

"How did your creator die? What are the Arcane Brotherhood's plans for Icewind Dale? What crimes have you personally committed or ordered against the people of Tentowns, and the glacier? I would know your sins, false-man..." Khulekani asked, pointedly ignoring the Simulacrum's bait.

"Why did a Wight come for you last night?" she added, almost as an afterthought.

"Bah," the Simulacrum heaved, "I have already answered your question — I do not know the fate my creator suffered. Who's to tell? Beheaded? Burned at the stake? Devoured by a pack of Crag Cats? The man was keen on making enemies on all fronts," he gestured to himself, "and I am the diversion. Now, with my creator dead, the Wight has come to retrieve me. Why? Try asking him — his name was Krintaas. Masterless, he was free to act on his own volition, as am I." After a pause, in which he continued to stare down at the ground for he dared not meet the Paladin's eyes, he continued, "ah, and torch anyone the Wight has slain, lest they rise again before nightfall."

---

I think an Insight would be appropriate to see if he is intentionally avoiding some of your questions or not.

Despite the utter nastiness of the entire situation, there was something about it that sparked interest.  Mallory didn't fancy herself some high-minded academic despite her education, but it was the nature of learned folk to be curious.  A masterless Wight given reign to act of its own will, yet somehow still keen to cooperate with its cohorts?  A Simulacrum that had potentially outlived its creator to fall to its own devices?  Either case was absolutely novel, but both together?  It was a dissertation journal in the making all on its own.

"Truly fascinating..." the noble couldn't help but hum.  Intellectual curiosity glimmered in her dark eyes, but she forced herself to set such thoughts aside.

"ah, and torch anyone the Wight has slain, lest they rise again before nightfall."

That got a scowl from Mallory as she considered the possibility.  A thoughtful rub at her chin weighed the likelihood before she looked back to Markham and nodded in confirmation of the Simulacrum's suggestion.  "It's unlikely, but entirely possible.  A funeral pyre would suffice once the bodies are first examined for traces of necrotic contamination."

Khulekani's barrage of forceful questions didn't seem to bear much good against an attitude like Dzaan's, so Mallory took a different approach.  "You didn't have to warn us of that, but thank you for doing so.  You may have spared a few lives today.  I believe that gesture deserves a concession in return; if you have a question of us, I will try to answer to the best of my ability." she offered gently.  "But even with Dzaan and the Wight aside, there's the matter of what you have allegedly done to end up here in the first place.  The band of adventurers you worked with: I've been told you killed them.  Did you?  If so, was it by your own decision or did your creator specifically demand it of you?"
This message was last edited by the player at 21:24, Sat 19 Mar 2022.

As the squire's divine magic pulsed through the air, Torgrim instinctively tried to resist its effects. Telling the truth, or at least fully, was not something he was willing to fully commit to. Still, the more he attempted to block them out, what began as the sound of chains blowing gently in the summer breeze rose in intensity and grew into a deafening cacophony of manacles, anvils and clanging steeple bells. The judgemental chorus chimed relentlessly until he was forced to reluctantly forfeit his endeavour.

OOC: Torgrim fails to resist the zone of truth with a charisma saving throw of 5 using 1d20+3.

As the witch and the squire took turns asking the prisoner their questions, Torgrim played into his role as a brooding enforcer, slowly twirling the tip of his dagger against his thumb.

"Are you familiar with the Arcane Brotherhood?" [...] "I am a full-fledged member."

"Now, I have little to no knowledge of the world of traditional wizardry and witchcraft, but I do have a bit of experience with brotherhoods, clubs, syndicates and general conglomerations of underhanded ne'er-do-wells. Simply saying you're a member is never enough proof to get you through the front door."

OOC: Torgrim would like to attempt to deduce if there is anything on the Simulacrum's person that would serve as proof of membership in the Arcane Brotherhood.

The Simulacrum had no items on it, bearing only the tattered gowns bestowed by Sheriff. Still, a tattoo or brand could indicate his enlistment, but aside from a few minor slashes and cuts, there were no symbols on his body. A thorough inspection would have to be conducted, with the approval of the Sheriff. Likely, such a search had already been carried out.

"I have not killed anyone," the Simulacrum responded. "And when I say 'I' hired the adventurers, it is not I, the Simulacrum, I speak of, but my creator. You don't know what it's like . . . the cognitive dissonance. I carry all his memories, yet I know they have been superimposed. The hiring of the adventurers took place before my creation. I was sent southward, where I was to make my presence known, and contact anyone who might be willing to aid our cause. That is when the honorless cretin," he scowled Khulekani's way, "violated the sanctity of our ceasefire by bashing my nose in and dragged me here." He paused momentarily, sighing to dampen his vitriol. "The adventurers, or mercenaries, or whatever you would like to call them, may yet still live. They were sent for one purpose — to locate the spire and scope out its dangers. Though if they did return they are very likely slain, along with anyone else who might know of its location."

---

Khulekani's Insight to gauge the Simulacrum's willingness to answer questions [8]: Unsurprisingly, the entity harbors a distaste for the Paladin, so its reluctance to go gush the plans of the Arcane Brotherhood might very well be for this reason or some other.

"And when I say 'I' hired the adventurers, it is not I, the Simulacrum, I speak of, but my creator. You don't know what it's like... the cognitive dissonance. I carry all his memories, yet I know they have been superimposed..."

"I have some idea.  Not to the intensity of your experience but... I do understand, to some degree, what it's like to have the memories of another inlaid onto my own.  The innate confusion of trying to reconcile having a memory of somewhere you've set foot yourself."  An effort at comfort?  Understanding?  Mallory leaned forward a bit in her seat with hands propped over her crossed knees to ease nearer.

---

Outside, up on the snowy eaves of the roof, Astre sneezed.

---

On the matter of the adventurers, Mallory allowed herself to test the limits of the Squire's spell.  In full truth, neither Khulekani nor Markham had outright told her the hired adventurers had been slain, but that was certainly the prevailing belief given the other murders attributed to Dzaan.  She found no trouble in repeating the reasonable opinion.  That was always the trouble with enchantments over divinations... perspective played a part and it was always relative rather than objective.

When the Simulacrum issued a barb about Khulekani breaking their truce in Hundelstone, Mallory perked a brow.  Matters of honor didn't really factor in to her at all, but she was left curious as to whether Khulekani's report of the Simulacrum first attempting to cast a spell at her was accurate.  Had she perhaps mistaken the intention and acted hastily?  Another matter of relative perspective, unfortunately.

"The adventurers, or mercenaries, or whatever you would like to call them, may yet still live. They were sent for one purpose — to locate the spire and scope out its dangers. Though if they did return they are very likely slain, along with anyone else who might know of its location."

"With your creator and the Wight both dead, and yourself in captivity, who would be left to slay them to protect your cause?" she continued with a gentle insistence.  "And what is this cause?  The method of your creation and nature make it absolutely impossible to believe you were conjured merely to act as a glorified guide post.  Surely you must have done more."

"Well, with me here and the Wight dead, there is no one left. And you are correct," the Simulacrum said, a faint smile drawn upon its battered face, "there is more. On that, I refuse to elaborate. Kill me, torture me if you'd like. Unless you bring me to the spire, these are the secrets I will die with."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:14, Sun 20 Mar 2022.

At the heart of it all, Mallory did not believe for a second that the Simulacrum would genuinely take its secrets to the grave if there was any chance it could leverage them instead.  The notion of a Red Wizard having the dedication to any cause or drive other than his own well-being was laughable to her understanding.  But it wasn't a bluff to be so readily called out either.

"There are reports of a dozen or so other murders in Easthaven.  Who committed those?  You, or your creator, or a yet-unnamed cohort?" she prompted squarely, then glanced about to the others.  "Beyond that, I find my queries having dwindled by this point.  What of yourselves?"

"Easthaven is a festering cesspool of debauchery and crime," the Simulacrum responded. "It is likely I killed someone while there. There is a man who goes by the name Brasn who lodged me until I became intolerable." It shook its head. "Apologies. Not me, but my creator."

That did sound like Brasn, alright Torgrim though to himself. At least the part where he willingly hosted a homicidal wizard, not the part where he let him leave without a parting gift lodged between his shoulder blades. The geese must have gone well and truly to shit since I left. Who could have guessed?

Torgrim approached and squatted closer to the Simulacrum, while making sure to stay out of lunging distance. "So when exactly did you enter the equation?" He asked, gesticulating with a dagger as he spoke. "Unless my math is off, you can't be more than what, a week old? Two?"

"Not really enough time to start a new and better life, is it?"

Rhydd had been watching and listening, his bow strung and nocked arrow pointing down at the floor. He perceived the back-and-forth questioning with the Simulcrum (he thought that he had the right word -- or, at least pretty close --  although he had never heard it before) to be a matter for the magickers, so he started and briefly showed a deer-in-the-lanternlight expression when Lady Mallory asked if "yourselves" had any further questions.

Luckily Torgrim quickly spoke up, which gave Rhydd an opportunity to marshal his thoughts. After a moment he said, by way of observation "A moment ago this . . . he, it . . ." he nodded towards the captive with his chin, "said that he had not killed anyone."

"But just now, I heard him say that it is likely that he killed someone -- mayhap several somones, we know not -- in Easthaven."

Without taking his eyes off of the prisoner, he asked "Squire Khulekani -- given this important -- or, at least it seems so to me ... a matter of killing people, that is . . . inconsistency -- is it possible that the prisoner has resisted your magicks that are, if I understand things aright, intended to compel it . . . him . . . to speak the truth?"

---

OOC: For ease of reference, the "I have not killed anyone" reference is contained in Msg. #86, while the reference to having "likely" killed someone in Easthaven can be found in Msg. #90.

"He did not resist the forceful influence of my gods. I would have been able to feel that," Khulekani replied to Rhydd, glancing his way momentarily before continuing her circling of the Simulacrum.

"Individuals are not omniscient when they are compelled to speak the truth. They speak it only as they understand it, from their limited and biased point of view. A clever individual might even be able to say completely factual things, but still mislead. Leaving out a detail or two, sating opinion rather than fact, that kind of thing. That is why simple, declarative statements are best for answers. Less room for ambiguity and misunderstanding," she explained to everyone, having utilized these magics more than once in the past.

"In this instance, even though this Simulacrum is, for all intents and purposes his creator, they are two distinct bodies. Whatever memories he may have, technically if this body did not commit the crime, 'he' did not commit the crime. From his point of view..." the Squire finished explaining.

"You will not simply move on from my questions with swift words, thing. What are the Arcane Brotherhood's plans for Icewind Dale? In no ambiguous terms," the paladin asked, eyes flashing with the fiery passion of her zeal.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:13, Mon 21 Mar 2022.

Squire Khulekani seemed satisfied that she had answered Rhydd's question, but to his way of thinking, she had just been talking in circles.

Either the Simulcrum* had killed people, or it hadn't. Saying one thing at one point and something just the opposite soon thereafter did not make it seem to the archer that the prisoner was being truthful.

But if Squire Khulekani and Lady Mallory were satisfied, that was sufficient for Rhydd. He had little doubt that both of them understood the nuances of the magicks that were being used much better than he did. Which was to say (in his case), not much at all.

---

OOC: *I am aware that Rhydd does not have the word quite right. He (IC), however, is not. And in any event, 'tis close enough for his purposes. :)
This message was last edited by the player at 19:20, Mon 21 Mar 2022.

"Unless my math is off, you can't be more than what, a week old? Two?"
"You are close," the Simulacrum responded. "I was conceived at the third of Uktar. Strange experience, to remember having created oneself. I was made to curl up and wait in a chest for three days, before I was sent southward. First I went here, to Bryn Shander, wearing an illusory guise. Then I traveled to Hundelstone, through the mountain pass. Up until last night, I have obeyed the command of my creator. For any wrongdoing he has committed beyond that point, know that you would make me atone in his stead. What justice would there be in that? The man is already dead . . ."

The Similacrum still did not dare look Khulekani in the eye. Instead, it turned to Mallory. "Take me to the spire, and I will tell you everything you want to know and more. The plans of the Arcane Brotherhood, my purpose, the adventurers' mission, Easthaven, and all else."
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:55, Mon 21 Mar 2022.

While the others spoke and questioned, Mallory took a moment to sort herself out as she stood from her impromptu bench.  The lantern rod came free at her touch so that she could step along toward the edge of the barrier where Rhydd lingered in waiting, drawn once more to the assurance of his proximity and by his curiosity.  She could tell plain from the look on his face that the Squire's reply left him confounded and rested a touch at his arm.

"The Simulacrum is merely confused by the nature of his memories.  He is mistaking his own experiences with those of his creator.  He bears all the same thoughts and recollections of Dzaan; not in some abstract, detached way but truly as if he were the one to have done them himself.  If these murders were committed by Dzaan before the Simulacrum was conjured into existence, the Simulacrum would still recall them as just as keenly and personally." she tried to clarify the matter.  "To be perfectly fair though, I've never heard of a duplicate to outlive its creator or what sort of unexpected effects that may have, especially when interacting with other spells.  This truly is uncharted water."

The Simulacrum's insistence of keeping its secrets and being escorted to its goal was met with a pensive expression from Mallory.  It was not her place to decide either way and, rather, she looked across to Markham and Duvessa.  She sincerely doubted they'd concede, nor would she ever advise to it herself.  But they had their own questions for the Simulacrum before all was said and done too.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:33, Mon 21 Mar 2022.

Duvessa and Markham had remained, observing the whole conversation during the minutes it had taken place. Duvessa, standing straight with her hands folded in front of her coat and with a stone cold expression that betrayed neither emotion nor intention, and Markham, who looked more cogitative.

"Sheriff?" the Speaker prompted once the cudgel was passed to them.

"Have you, the Simulacrum, committed any crimes?" Markham asked pointedly, staring the thing, person, or whatever it was, down.

"Thievery," the Simulacrum answered, unflinching, "The coin you retrieved from my person were ill begotten. I also believe I have outstanding fees for my stay in Hundelstone."

Duvessa scoffed audibly. "As the Wizard has already said, it would behoove you to be forthcoming. I find it hard to believe someone of your reputation have only committed minor offenses, regardless of how long you may have been in existence."

Markham stepped a bit closer. "They could only be among them and he would have answered truthfully. So let me be clearer," the Sheriff continued after taking a brief moment to best conceive of his next question, "to your knowledge, has anyone died because of any actions you, the Simulacrum, have taken?"

"No," the Simulacrum answered.

"Are you sentient?"

Silence.

A bit of bone dust drifted to the floor as Farwalker blew on the little carving. The bow was coming along alright, but armour was always hard to get right. “Squire. I would ask that you not call anyone a thing in my presence. I have been called such, or similar words through the years by those ignorant of what I am. It is disappointing to hear such things from you.” Farwalker’s cool, rumbling voice cut through the moment of silence. She didn’t sound particularly upset, just mildly disappointed, as she said. As always, she’d been listening carefully to the goings on. She wasn’t much of an interrogator herself, and the spell made her usual function in such a situation rather moot. “That does bring me to a question I do not think anyone has yet asked of the prisoner. What is it you wish to be called?”
This message was last edited by the player at 21:56, Mon 21 Mar 2022.

Rhydd nodded his thanks when Lady Mallory spent a bit more time explaining how the prisoner could be confused about killing people -- by getting his own memories mixed up with those of Dzaan, it sounded like. The archer decided that made sense, considering the circumstances of the Simulcrum's creation.

He pursed his lips thoughtfully when Markham began questioning the captive. Rhydd leaned over and whispered to Lady Mallory "Does 'sentient' mean what I think it does? And if so, how could yon captive fail to be sentient, given that he is supposed to be a copy of Dzaan the Red Wizard?"

It was perhaps a bit uncouth to slip into whispers right in front of the one they were talking about, but if the Simulacrum expected any sense of consideration in his position, he'd have to settle for being mistaken.  Mallory did find her fingers twitch for want of a folding fan to hide her face behind out of sheer habit though.

"Regardless of opinion or all appearances, a Simulacrum isn't a living being.  It's an illusion made physical.  This fellow here cannot and does not deviate from his creator's nature; if Dzaan doesn't believe a Simulacrum he's conjured to be a sentient being, then the Simulacrum itself believes the same." That the captive chose to remain silent rather than speak to his own opinion said plenty on the matter.

“That does bring me to a question I do not think anyone has yet asked of the prisoner. What is it you wish to be called?”

Farwalker's question was, of all present, the most merciful and generous even compared to Mallory's own gentle approach.  Yet it made the young noble turn to rest her forehead into Rhydd's shoulder for the sake of hiding a wince.  Gods above, it was like naming a rabbit despite it being destined for the stew pot...
This message was last edited by the player at 01:46, Tue 22 Mar 2022.

"Dzaan," the Simulacrum responded. "I wish to be called Dzaan."

Khulekani looked up in surprise as the Goliath's words, but then reminded herself that matters of theology and metaphysics were not common subjects outside of non-religious and high academia areas.

"With respect Lady Farwalker, this is no mere case of Othering, or showing disrespect. As Lady Bonheur indicated, this construct of magic is not a person, under any definition that you might come across. It was not imbued by a soul by the gods, and thus lacks the quality of sentience and true experience. Think of this thing as more an elaborate illusion or...highly lifelike puppet, created by magic, than a man. The strings have simply been cut, but the performance goes on," the young Squire said seriously.

"As for you, Thing, what about your current situation makes you believe you have any leverage at all? The only thing saving you from returning from the Weave wence you came is the good will of the Town's lawful masters," she said, indicating Duvessa and Markham over her shoulder.

"For one, the allure of the riches of the spire, to which only I know the location," the Simulacrum Dzaan said, "and my knowledge of the Arcane Brotherhood. For I assure you, you will need to know how to combat them," the Simulacrum looked the Speaker's way, "or do you intend to repeat your failures?"

"or do you intend to repeat your failures?"

That particular remark drew one of Mallory's eyebrows up in an inquisitive look over at Duvessa herself.

Duvessa paused under scrutiny, as if weighing the benefits of taking this discussion now. In the end she relented. "He is speaking of Vaelish Gant, a former aide of mine who secretly established protection rackets and worked to undermine the economy of Ten Towns. All for the benefit of the Arcane Brotherhood. He now spends the remainder of his days in Revel's End."

“I have asked you politely once, Squire. I do not care about the implications of what the man is. It seems I did not make it clear enough. Call nothing, and no one that speaks a thing in my presence. I will not ask a third time.” She didn’t sound particularly angry, just even more disappointed. And slightly exasperated. It was no wonder she was still just a squire. She didn’t even know who and what she was lecturing. Not that Farwalker wandered around shouting about having a sliver of divinity stuck in her soul.

Mallory could already see a potential debate rising and quickly cleared her throat to try and waylay it before it could get rolling with momentum.  "I think we're getting off track here.  Please, let's refocus ourselves." she interjected primly.  "Speaker, Sheriff?  Unless there's anything more to ask of the prisoner, perhaps we should adjourn to privacy for discussion of how to proceed?  He has been cooperative for the most part, which I believe deserves consideration for how we move forward from here."

“A wise proposition,” Duvessa said. “Squire?”

Khulekani didn't understand Farwalker's request, for it seemed nonsensical to her. There were many things that could speak that no one would even contemplate considering persons. But, she had more pressing matters at the moment, so she simply shook her head in mild bewilderment and continued her task.

"Just one more question before we withdraw: Do you have any plans to escape custody, or intentions to harm anyone is Tentowns?" she asked, narrowing her eyes is suspicion at the construct.

"Of course. What, would you have me say I intend to rot away in custody until I inevitably crumble? A sad fate," the Simulacrum rebutted. "If it would help persuade you toward the spire, I can exhaust my remaining magic. And to answer your remaining question, no, I seldom carry plans to harm anyone."

Duvessa promptly turned around, hesitating briefly at Mallory's magical barrier before passing through, leaving behind only soft swirls on the transparent surface. Farwalker, on the other hand, saw her emerging from a solid grey dome. The Sheriff soon followed.

---

Once in the office, Markham was first to speak up as everyone became situated. "I will not judge the Simulacrum's fate. I will keep it, I will restrain it, and I will have no qualms about revoking its privileges. This is a thing, not a living being. Passing sentence would be an absurdity." Chairs were provided for those who wished to sit, otherwise there were a few convenient spaces around the rather small subterranean office to occupy. Though, it was clearly not architected to house a Goliath and six other Humanoids of average size.

Duvessa, instead of finding her former seat, stood by Markham's desk and looked their visitor's way. "I will hear your counsel, so speak."

Mallory offered the Simulacrum a parting look before she turned and followed out of the cell.  The moment she crossed the threshold of the barrier it simply vanished out of existence like a popped soap bubble, with nothing more than the swirl of shifting temperatures in its wake as the different atmospheres blended back into one.

---

In Markham's office, Mallory helped herself to a proper chair and sorely stroked two fingertips up and down the bridge of her nose.  She felt quite torn between want of a strong cup of coffee or an even stronger cup of wine, empty stomach be damned.

"Whether the Simulacrum can be considered a person is wholly irrelevant at this point.  Though we've confirmed he's not responsible for killing anyone, he cannot be let free under any circumstances.  Dzaan was willing to murder in pursuit of his goals and the Simulacrum will do the same." the young noble set a rather firm stance right out the gate.  All the same, she afforded Khulekani a grateful nod.  "The aid of your spellwork and brusque presentation were very fruitful, Squire.  With it, the Simulacrum felt comfortable enough to try and manipulate us.  Well done."

To Markham and Duvessa, she shrugged.  "He's desperate.  In his desire to reach this Netherese spire, he's tried to speak to both our best and worst impulses: appealing to righteousness, leveraging the lives of innocents, offering to betray his own, tempting us with wealth and power." she gestured vaguely Duvessa's way in reference of the Simulacrum's offer to give a leg-up against the Arcane Brotherhood.  "Which means, to him, none of those are as valuable as what he's after at the Spire.  If he genuinely had anything to offer that he truly valued, he wouldn't surrender it in the first place.  Clearly he's telling us exactly what we'd like to hear.  Not a word of it can be trusted beyond his urgency to attend the Spire himself.  Whatever is to be found there, he yearns for above all else presently and that makes him rather dangerous."

Dark eyes drifted to rest on Torgrim.  "What do you think, Leyon?  You seemed to have the prisoner under rather sharp scrutiny yourself.  Any assessment?"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:13, Sat 26 Mar 2022.

Torgrim nodded half-mindedly along to Mallory's findings on the captive, partially lost in thoughts. Dzaan's connection to Brasn had come as a surprise, and now old unpleasant memories were slowly creeping to the front of his mind.

"What do you think, Leyon?  You seemed to have the prisoner under rather sharp scrutiny yourself.  Any assessment?" Torgrim's head nodded along for a moment before the silence and stares from his companions reminded him of his pseudonym.

"What? Oh, yes. Well, whatever Dzaan Two is, they are every bit as much of a snake as Dzaan One was, if I've understood the magics of this whole situation correctly. And given that he can't even seem to leave his name behind, I have little faith in any fundamental change."

"I've heard enough about the Brasn-fellow from Easthaven that he mentioned. If Dzaan One was bad enough for him to find him "intolerable" but too dangerous to simply have killed, then I want nothing to do with either."

"As for their fate, would there be a way to simply.. dispel them painlessly? No reason they'd even have to see it coming, simply.." Torgrim snapped his fingers with finality.

"Mmn... yes and no?  It is certainly possible, but the ritual to create a Simulacrum is a very powerful spell.  Unraveling such craft is no small feat.  I believe I could achieve it with a few days and supplied resources necessary to prepare, but I can't guarantee anything." Mallory didn't sound especially confident in her chances out of pocket.  "Given his current physical state, I daresay a swift executioner's blade would be more assured and painless at this point."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 19:30, Sat 26 Mar 2022.

"The involvement of the Arcane Brotherhood is worrisome. Far more, dare I say, than an independent Wizard of Thay acting on their own volition," Duvessa chimed in. She listened intently to every word out of both Mallory and Leyon. "It is pivotal that we uncover their schemes before they are allowed to take root. And I pray they haven't already. If you have any information, large or loose, bring it forth. I will see to it that the Simulacrum is destroyed. He shall hang publicly, so we do not reveal his ploy has been unveiled. But first," Duvessa turned to Markham, "do you think you can wring more information out of him? He seemed quite unwilling to tell anything of his syndicate, but he knew more. I believe a more fruitful approach could be employed."

Markham seemed about to respond, but from the way his mouth opened without sound, the words evidently didn't come as easily as he had expected. "I . . . if you're asking torture, I would hope my stance on it is not ambiguous by now. My faith forbids me."

"It is a thing, is it not?" Duvessa rebutted coldly. "Or am I missing something? Squire?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:06, Sat 26 Mar 2022.

"I could likely dispel him without issue." Farwalker said slowly, almost idly. She eyed the carving in her hand critically, then frowned at it in annoyance. It wasn't looking too great. Decent, but that wasn't good enough. She tucked the piece of bone away and fished in her pocket for a different one. "Not guaranteed, but very likely." She made the first cut very carefully.

"And do be careful of what you call a thing. I know a letter opener that would take great offence at that." Her tone was light, but still serious, her hands working cautiously and slowly at the piece of bone. Though, a slight slip with the knife wouldn't really cut her fingers. "Were I a simulacrum, and my creator deceased, my task would be to find a way to make myself whole once more. And no doubt, there are a multitude of ways to go about doing so." She paused in her knife work to tilt her head thoughtfully, "I can think of three, off-hand. And even if those three aren't even possible, no doubt there's more."

"There's also the trap of thinking of anyone capable of thinking, feeling, and yes even plotting your demise as a thing. Be very cautious of following that path. It is easy to lose oneself and do horrible things." Her cuts were still slow and methodical, careful, even if her voice had more heat to it than before. "After all, it's not like they're a real person. It's not like they feel real pain. It's for the good of the people."

"Yes," Khulekani replied without hesitation.

"Now, while it might not have the true experience of pain as one would with a soul, it is clearly capable of reacting to stimuli. Much in the same way a starfish might recoil from injury, despite lacking true sentience. Torturing this thing might not be as bad as harming even an animal, it would still be distasteful as...whittling a live tree still rooted to the ground. While my order forbids the use of torture, and I find it unconscionable, in this case there is more of a grey area I suppose. Physically, it will be in Human form until it dies, then it will revert to the simple materials it was created from. That might be a reason not to hang it in public, by the by. But until then, the once with the truncheon or knife would be harming living flesh. That might do harm to that person's soul, for no torturer is unscathed by their deeds. My recommendation would for us to seek more definitive answers while under the effects of my gods' will, and if needed make it clear that only our good graces keep the matter civil. And then execute it with a clean strike once it has given as much as it knows. Because under no circumstances must it reach that spire, that much is clear," she explained, rubbing the back of her neck in mild frustration.

"It is pivotal that we uncover their schemes before they are allowed to take root. And I pray they haven't already. If you have any information, large or loose, bring it forth."

"We did encounter some Brotherhood activity in Targos a few days ago.  A dropped thread, from the way things seem, but we can discuss that later.  I'd rather focus on just one criminal mage at a time."  When Farwalker and Khulekani seemed to start in once more, Mallory sighed helplessly.  She knew full well how stubborn Farwalker could be to stand to her ideals and the Squire seemed just as steadfast in her own convictions.  Admirable on their own, perhaps, but it was hardly the moment to be bickering and debating.

"Regardless of the Simulacrum's nature--" she interjected sharply "--the fact of the matter is he is presently leveraging innocent lives for his own gain.  Whether it be the fate of the hired mercenaries or those who would yet be harmed by the Arcane Brotherhood.  That alone is enough to condemn him beneath the eyes of the law."

The prospect of torture - let alone with so many present being forbidden to even attempt it if they wanted to - wasn't one that settled well on Mallory's soul.  To inflict suffering on another was terrible by any measure.  Whether or not the Simulacrum genuinely suffered or only bore an imagined facsimile was irrelevant.  At that point it wasn't about the Simulacrum, but more to how far their own morals could be bent.  She had already prepared herself for the eventuality... in all honesty, she'd dearly hoped Khulekani's spell would've been enough.  But Dzaan was intent on capitalizing on his secrets.

"The information Dzaan holds is the only thing keeping him alive.  He's wagered, perhaps correctly, that we would be unwilling to remain blind to perils by simply doing away with him.  He won't surrender his secrets to torture.  They are the only leverage he has." the noble heaved a long sigh before her gaze met Duvessa's once more.  For a lingering moment she hesitated to speak; once it was said, she couldn't go back on it.

"I can--" she paused again in a moment of reluctance, but steeled her will and pushed right on. "I have a spell that can pull information from his mind by force.  It isn't harmful, but he will know it's happened and will surely not allow a second chance.  Please understand: I am loathe to do this, as I consider it an abhorrent violation.  But if there are indeed innocent lives at risk, then I cannot sit idly by for the sake of keeping my morals untarnished."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:43, Sun 27 Mar 2022.

"How fickle our souls are," Duvessa offered as the morality of torture was discussed, "to not be able to distinguish between true and perceived harm. Your advise is fair, and I will heed it. The Simulacrum will not be tortured for information or hanged, nor will I ask of you anything you will find reprehensible. Though the Squire's insight raises a question — if we were to hang his clone and uncover his ruse in the end, did he construct it only to buy himself time?"

Duvessa didn't wait for a response before continuing. "This does not need saying, but I will say it regardless — I have no interest in the Spire. I am, however, compelled to concern myself with the Arcane Brotherhood. As such, I will wish to question Vaelish Gant, and I will need someone to make the trek to Revel's End. You have proven yourself most capable today. If you find yourself in need of employ, you can be certain I will offer you generous compensation." She very gently moved a gloved hand underneath her blue robe to produce a single coin purse. While far from as hefty as Khulekani's forfeited reward, the leather sack was still billowing, and though she had placed it carefully upon the table it was nevertheless accompanied by a satisfying thud. "Three hundred gold pieces, to serve as the pay you requested and as proof of my good will."

It's a start.  The thought promptly crossed Mallory's mind but tactfully remained unspoken as, to her standards, a meager pay for the sort of aid and advisory rendered.  Still, she wasn't going to turn her nose up at any gold and business relationships took time before they would truly yield their value.

"And what of the lost mercenaries then?"  One might argue that they knew the threats of their own field and could take care of themselves, but the idea of leaving others in danger didn't appeal to her.  "Are you confident you can keep Dzaan under control here in the meantime if we do indeed pursue these other avenues?  If he's in cahoots with the Arcane Brotherhood for this Spire, they might make a move on him as well."

"There's no such thing as a grey area when it comes to torture." There was a pause in her carving as Farwalker looked up at the Squire. Her voice and face was completely aghast at the thought. She shook her head and stood, shifting the started carving and knife into one hand, the other lifting her pack. "I am done with this conversation. It stands too close to Auril's spite for my like. Any worse and I will be forced into doing something distasteful." With the easy motion of having done something innumerable times, Farwalker shifted her pack over one shoulder and made for the door.

"I'll be at the tavern later. There are items I need to purchase." She said as she opened the door. It hadn't exactly been difficult to reach, what with the small room. And sitting close to it, having come in last.

"Goliaths and their convictions . . ." Duvessa stated, watching the wake of Farwalker. "Admirable. In a way.

The mercenaries will be left to their fate," Duvessa said with finality, turning back to the rest of the group, "and the Simulacrum will be destroyed. If you come by in the evening we will grant you your attempts, else we will dispose of it ourselves in a manner we find proper. But even rid of it, the threat of another Wight attack — or worse — yet looms. However, without understanding the risks, there is little hope to manage them. Intelligence is vital. Two days. That is how long I will give you to think on my offer, thereafter I will have sent Revel's End either you or someone else. Now, if you'll excuse me," Duvessa continued while moving briskly for the door, "there are others who will wish to know of these developments."

There was little opportunity to catch her on the tailend with any outstanding inquiries, nor was the swift farewell elaborated upon.

"We thank you," Markham offered, stood by the desk, "for all your help today, on behalf of the good people of Bryn Shander."

"Speaker, please, if there's even a chance these people could be saved, surely we--" Despite the firmness in Duvessa's tone, Mallory persisted after her with a quick rise from her seat.  Sure enough though, all she got in return was the sharp crack of a door being shut.  Mallory was left to turn her imploring attention to Markham instead with hopes he might be an alternative, yet...

"We thank you for all your help today, on behalf of the good people of Bryn Shander."

At that, Mallory's delicately painted lips turned to a willful scowl.  She drew herself up primly with shoulders squared and chin lifted, as suited a lady.  "Well, it appears we're no longer needed then." The bag of gold coins was snatched up with a jostle.  "However, I at least will return at sundown to speak with Dzaan once more."

"And you will be welcome," Markham nodded Mallory's way. "The jail will be manned at all hours, so you need only approach one of the guards outside. They will receive word of the importance of your visit prior and come fetch for me if I am not present myself. Though I suspect I will be."

"I would advise you inform Dzaan of my upcoming return as well to ensure he has something to anticipate, and consider replacing his shackles and blindfold in the meantime." she suggested.  "I fear that if he suspects something is afoot he may attempt something drastic to escape.  But if he thinks he still holds a position of leverage, he will hold onto it as long as he can."

"I will see it done," was all the Sheriff said in response.

Upon Mallory's and Rhydd's return, the Simulacrum was once again chained in the same way it had been the night prior. Hands outstretched, shackled to walls, blindfold to prevent him from seeing, and gag to prevent him from uttering a word. While the clone of the Red Wizard remained calm, sweat permeated its clothing. Markham ungagged him, but left all other restraints. It greeted Mallory amicably, recognizing her from the sounds she had made entering, and once the interrogation started it quickly became clear his resilience was unshakable, for he would not speak a word of the Arcane Brotherhood, spire, or the missing adventurers. The question came to a palpable standstill. After Mallory cited the incantations and gestured the spell, any established rapport was shattered. Though it could not feel her presence yet, for she only brushed against its surface thoughts, it understood what she had done.

Fear. Paranoia. The Simulacrum was intensely frightened, and had been so throughout the conversation. As fake as it was itself, so had its composure been. Within, it was terrified of its own death, and fleeting thoughts of its demise flocked its brain like bats in a cave. But it was when she began to puncture through that upper echelon of its mind that the Simulacrum's expression contorted into twisted agony, and it let out a building scream.

'Begone!' was the first coherent thing Mallory could read, the stolen thought reverberating within her own mind as clear as if the Simulacrum had spoken it aloud. It had been an echoing, insistent thought. The Simulacrum tossed its head toward the ground, flexing its arms and back. 'You'll wish to know of the location the tower?'

Now, it became a game. If one didn't want their words heard it was easy to suppress one's speech, but one's thought stream was a different beast entirely. However, a skilled Wizard had their safeguards for these means of interrogation.

'The Image of a Thunderstorm at Night, the Symbol of Chaos. The superior man is diligent and sincere, bringing order to the discord . . . Call to the Phoenix for rebirth from the ashes . . .'

Mallory was left to half-formed imagery, plastered atop feelings, rising and sinking. To fantasia. A blot on a map, east of Lac Dinneshere. A stone formation, jutting in a large field of open tundra. A gray-haired woman with an eye patch. The tortured screams of a man afflicted by Power Word: Pain.

And while the Simulacrum kept reciting its memorized scripture it simultaneously attempted to push Mallory out of its mind. But its thoughts were anchors, and her latch was tenacious. It failed, as yet more imagery and feelings stirred. A Tiefling with a face as pale as snow, wielding terror as a blunt instrument. Runes etched in a swirling pattern within a chamber, converging around a golden crystal disk. A burning desire to climb atop and become authentic.

'Think not of Sunblight' was the last thought Mallory could hear before the Simulacrum managed to wrest Mallory away. It was left heaving for air, and for the rest of the evening it would not utter another word.

---

Summarized, Mallory learns:

• The approximate location of the tower and what its exterior looks like.
• Of two people associated with the Arcane Brotherhood; the albino Tiefling and the woman with the eye patch.
• Dzaan recently tortured someone for information.
• A rune chamber exists within the tower, and it is the Simulacrum's immediate goal.

This message was last edited by the GM at 20:19, Mon 11 Apr 2022.

When the time came to return to the interrogation's second phase, it was a moment that Mallory had dreaded the entire day.  She afforded Dzaan what small kindnesses she could when he greeted her return with an affable manner; minor cleansing magics to wick away the sweat that matted his clothes, gentle conversation to ease his mood.  But, in truth, it was all nothing but facade.  A prelude to what she knew had to be done, what she hated to do; she'd merely been delaying it in hopes it could be avoided entirely.  Again and again she tried to cajole the Simulacrum's cooperation.  Any angle, any possible alternative to take...

But, in the end?  The young noble could only draw a long, steadying breath as she produced a single copper coin to hand.

"I know it's a worthless thing to say but... I am truly sorry for this." she braced herself as she gathered the coin atop her fingers and gave it a sharp flick up into the air to send it spinning up high.  That bright, almost musical chime of ringing metal echoed off the cold walls of the prison as the coin reached its apex and fell back down toward Mallory's outstretched palm but, rather than land, it seemed to lock into place above her hand.  Suspended in mid-air, still spinning as it began to pick up speed - faster and faster still, until it became a blur where it floated.  And as it sped up, that sound... to anyone else, it was just a soft metallic hum barely even audible to begin with.  But to Dzaan and Mallory both?  It grew louder and louder, mounted into an overwhelming, droning ring that blotted out all other sounds, that put such pressure onto the Simulacrum's head as to feel like it would burst...

Flashes of insight and intuition.  Scenes, feelings, sensations, memories.  All the sort of cluttered, confusion notions that Mallory herself was all too familiar in deciphering.  To her and Dzaan it felt like an age had passed yet, for any outside observer, it was only a matter of seconds.  When Dzaan finally bucked her influence with a greater effort, the coin stopped its spin instantly in a dead standstill, then dropped down into Mallory's palm without ceremony.

And in the wake of it all?  As Dzaan knelt with pained, terrified gasps?  As Mallory's face had drained of its color in a mix of disgust and shame with herself?  She drew another long, deep breath to steel herself, shuffled the coin back to the top of her knuckles, and flicked it once more into the air.

---

Once again, Mallory casts "Detect Thoughts".  She can do it up to three more times today - assuming she takes a break to Short Rest/Arcane Recovery a spell slot - and will continue to do so until she's either gotten all the information she can or Dzaan completely resists everything.

Mallory's remaining questions are:

- The last known location/names and appearances of the Lost Adventurers.
- Information about the bloody keys and token the Wight was carrying.
- Dzaan's last known location/hideout where his belongings would be.

She'll also try and plunder as much context as she can on everything else Dzaan has revealed, if possible.  She's basically going all-in at this point.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:37, Sat 09 Apr 2022.

A tiresome affair, for both caster and target alike, and to any outside observers Mallory's incessant psychic prodding was indistinguishable from torture. That the Simulacrum's sweat had been transmuted away from its clothes bore little bearing, for it would soon be permeated again as it twisted its body in agony in tandem with its mind to repel the intrusion. In between each casting, when the Simulacrum was afforded momentary respite, a visage of scorn, of deep contempt, faced Mallory, unmistakable even beneath his blindfold.

Together, they would familiarize themselves exhaustively with the first passages of the Hsao Chronicles. Again and again, it forced itself to repeat the acclaimed scripture until it remembered no more, and then it started over, all in an attempt to fill its mind with useless information so that Mallory was only offered the ephemeral to work with. But painstakingly, piece by piece, the puzzle could be assembled.

The Simulacrum knew the Adventurers. Their faces, their names. But it had not spared them even one thought upon Mallory's first casting. A human who went by Hadden, quite young and stately. He was a warrior from the region, bearing resemblance to the Regheds — if he didn't belong to their numbers he had at the very least spent a considerable amount of time here past the Spine. A Halfling with a chocolate complexion and a big, floofy fro. She was Apple, and was in the employ of Brasn. And lastly, a Dwarf named Firanna donned in heavy armor and wielding a mace of the finest Dwarven craftsmanship. A Tenday and two ago, they had been sent out to scope out the tower for a considerable reward. Three days later, the Simulacrum was constructed and the following day it was sent south.

The Simulacrum knew nothing of the key the Wight had carried. Markham, however, speculated it fit into the weapon's storage by the Eastern Gate, and sent someone who was able to confirm. The coin, on the other hand, the Simulacrum knew of. It was a Soul Coin, the cursed currency of the Nine Hells, and it contained the soul of the Wight as it had been in life. Dzaan had every intention to keep it safe on his person, so the Simulacrum could only presume the Wight had retrieved it after its master had perished.

The real Dzaan's last known location was a mystery to the Simulacrum. No matter how Mallory pried or prodded the information would not surface. Nothing concrete, no visuals, not anything. The Simulacrum had maintained contact with his creator through Messages, but that communication had always been one sided. The Red Wizard guarded his information closely, unwilling to reveal it even to a being that was for all intents and purposes himself.

---

We could get bogged down with Wisdom Saving Throws and Intelligence Contest, but for the sake of brevity I'd rather just have Mallory succeed on most of her points. This does assume she exhausts all of her available castings of Detect Magic, however.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:10, Mon 11 Apr 2022.

That works just fine for me, thanks.  The way it's all ended up basically summarizes the overall success level Mallory was able to manage anyway, so it seems fitting.

---

The look on Dzaan's face, half-masked as it was under a blindfold, was one that pained Mallory.  But she did not permit herself to turn away from it either.  She forced herself to maintain, to take in every moment of the Simulacrum's anger toward her.  The outrage, the betrayal, the hurt.  She would not allow herself to seek the relief of looking away, of not bearing every moment of it as she wracked the Simulacrum's mind again and again.  Not when it was her hand twisting the proverbial knife.  She did not deserve even a second's relief from facing the pain she caused.

Finally, when all was said and done, the coin fell once more to Mallory's palm.  She could do more, she knew.  She still had a reserve of magical energy to draw upon and continue to plunder Dzaan's mind.  But where the body was able, the spirit faltered.  Despite Dzaan's agonized reaction to her spellcraft, despite the pallor of her face and the sweat that coated her brow, it wasn't a physical pain that the experience yielded.  Rather it was psychological; the stress of having one's innermost mind broken into - to endure such abject violation - was more than enough to traumatize the body in return.  Mallory herself was in no better state; she wobbled in place as her legs weakened, burdened by the weight of what she'd done.  Though Dzaan was blinded, he'd surely have a bitter satisfaction of hearing her fall to her knees and heave a splash of bile onto the stone floor.  Her coughs and sobs were little compared to what she'd made him suffer through, but it was likely better than callous silence or some pithy remark.

In time, the young noble sat back on her knees as she panted to regain her composure.  Cleansing magic whirled from her outstretched hand purely on force of habit rather than focus as she purged the floor and her chin alike of her sick.  But even as her simple spellcraft tidied her up, did away with the sweat and run makeup, she still felt marred.  Dirty.  Tarnished in a way that would not be so easily rid of with but a flippant wave of her hand.  The two mages mirrored one another on opposite sides of the prison; each knelt, pained, and burdened by the experience neither of them wanted.

"Sheriff?  May I enter the cell and unbind one of his arms?  He deserves to strike me a few times, at the very least." she panted as she dragged herself up to her still-shaky feet with a heavy lean on her lantern rod.

Rhydd had gone down on his haunches as soon as Mallory went to her knees. He almost called for a towel when she became ill, but soon enough she had called upon her own magicks to tidy herself up. He was pleased to see that she was not so weakened -- mentally or physically -- as to be unable to look after herself.

However, her request of the Sheriff made him question whether she was, in fact, thinking clearly.

"Shhhh . . . Mallory. That is not a good idea," he murmured to her quietly.

Glancing over at Sheriff Markham, he shook his head in the negative as a follow-up to the wizardess' spoken request.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:08, Tue 12 Apr 2022.

Markham fully concurred with Rhydd's assessment of Mallory's proposal. "No. I will not allow that," he said. As Mallory had forced herself to spectate the entire ordeal, so had Markham. The severity of the situation led him to consider intervening at numerous points, but he ultimately decided against it. Though what Mallory had done was reminiscent of torture, it wasn't. At least not in the conventional sense.

"I . . ." the Simulacrum said meekly between sharp inhalations, ". . . forgive you."
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:48, Tue 12 Apr 2022.

Dzaan's words, genuine or not, left Mallory with a look as if she'd indeed been struck a blow.  It was the last thing she wanted to hear.  She would rather he'd scream curses at her, swear oaths of revenge - it would be better if he'd hate her.

"How could you possibly?" she retorted with a defeated tone.  Dark eyes hollowed, head downcast.  As Rhydd was there at her side with concern for her, a part of her desperately wanted to just bury her face against his shoulder and blot out the world for even a moment.  But, as before, she denied herself the pursuit of comfort.  She couldn't forgive herself.  She wasn't certain she ever would.  The best she could hope for was that the mercenaries yet lived so that it would all at least be worth something in the end.

Judging from Mallory's condition, Rhydd assumed that the casting of her magicks -- which presumably had been resisted by the Sim-whatever -- had left the wizardess exhausted. That, he could understand. What he did not understand, however, was her request that she be allowed to step into the creature's cell so that it could strike her.

And her latest comment -- the "How could you possibly?" reply to the creature's stating that it forgave her (for what, Rhydd did not know) also concerned him, for he could make no sense out of it. Seemingly her mind was unfocused in some fashion.

As best he could tell, the noblewoman was wrung out and drained, both mentally and physically.

Turning his head to look at Sheriff Markham, he spoke quietly. "She needs to rest, I think. Do you have a cot where she could lie down for a bit? And mayhap some warm tea?"
This message was last edited by the player at 18:35, Tue 12 Apr 2022.

"Yes. Take her upstairs to the common room," Markham replied, as eager to wrap things up as the duo. "I'll have the guards prepare the tea. And when she's properly recovered, we would be obliged if she tells of what she's learned."

---

Upstairs, Mallory was handed a blanket, given a seat, and served tea. Rhydd was given the same offer, as all were, though it was evident to the guards he was merely here to accompany his lady. Mess kits were tended to, filling the room with the pleasant scent of simmering stew. Some of the less fortunate in town found themselves here amid sprawled bedrolls — the woman and her child they had passed by last evening, a feeble man with a missing foot, and some of the vagrants Mallory had helped out yesterday. The red-haired woman was among them. Now, without her hood and cowl, it was clear she was a sprightly, young, and freckled lass.

Upon spotting Mallory, she discreetly scooted over. "Rough day, huh?" She spared the noblewoman a sympathetic glance. "Gonna be honest, didn't expect to see you in here among our sorry butts. No offense." By the way she tossed her glance around the room, the last addendum was meant for both Mallory and those around in equal measure. The one-legged man coughed weakly.

It took some ushering to actually get Mallory out of the prison without an answer from the Simulacrum.  Her eyes remained on him until the very last moment the door shut in their wake and, only then, did her gaze fall downcast again.

In both the walk upstairs and when finally given simple comforts to try and soothe her with, Mallory remained... diminished, somehow.  Her shoulders drooped beneath the weight of the blanket laid across them and the tea remained unsipped.  As she held it between her gloved palms the surface of the drink rippled ever so subtly with the way her hands shook.  When the young woman eased over to give a bit of chit-chat it actually took a few silent moments before Mallory even managed to reply.  "I'm performing a duty for the Sheriff.  It's... taxing." There was a numbness in her words.  Face still ashen and expression miserable as could be, even for the downtrodden in a place like Ten-Towns.  "I'm sorry, but I don't think I'll be very good company at the moment."

It bothered Rhydd considerably to see Mallory in her weakened condition. The fact that he did not understand the source of her problems made him even more concerned.

He decided that it might be a matter of her overextending herself when it came to using her magicked resources, or it might be something else. It clearly seemed to be something relating to the magicked goings-on that had just taken place downstairs in the jail area, but the archer did not understand the whys and wherefores of it.

When a break came in the conversation between Mallory and the red-haired townswoman, he asked the wizardess "Would magicked healing return some of your energy to you?"

"I can be back with Farwalker or Squire Khulekani very quickly."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:18, Wed 13 Apr 2022.

Rhydd's struggle to do what he could in the situation brought another sense of worry to the young noble's heart.  The concern was deeply appreciated, even if she chose to deny herself comfort as self-inflicted punishment, but a thought struck her as she looked up to her companion.  He didn't understand what had just happened.  But... what would he think of her once it was explained to him?  She'd not hold it against him in the least if he turned away from her despite his earlier proclamation to stay by her side.

"No, I'm not injured, Rhydd.  It's..." she began, though she stopped herself with a glance toward the woman once more.  "I'm sorry, but may we have a moment, please?"

Even in her state, manners and etiquette remained firmly in place with Mallory.  They had been drilled into her every behavior since childhood, after all.  Once the woman had given the requested space, Mallory shifted closer to Rhydd to speak to him in what privacy could be afforded in the common room.  Her voice remained soft and low as, in the wake of it all, it sounded as if she were about to cry with every word.

"What just happened in the prison... what I just did to him..." she began, only to falter as she tried to find the words.  "The spell I cast enables me to hear the thoughts of those around me.  To spy in on their innermost, private moments.  Their memories, their feelings.  All without them ever knowing I was even there.  Liken it to eavesdropping on someone at their window.  An invasion of privacy, but perhaps one palatable enough in that there's no real harm done to them."

She grimaced and stilled herself with a sip of tea.  Bitter.  "Or, when merely eavesdropping isn't enough?  To kick down the door by force.  To invade and defile the most sacred of privacy one has - their own mind - against their will as they try with all their might to fight off their attacker." The surface of her tea rippled once more as hot tears rolled down her face and into the cup.  "That is what I just did to him, Rhydd.  Every time he screamed out, every time he recoiled, was because I was pulling open his skull and taking what I wanted from him.  He was terrified from the very first second.  I subjected him to that violation again, and again, and again."

Mallory's head drooped once more as she couldn't bear to raise it, took look Rhydd in the eyes.  The shame of it all was too great for her.  "How... how could he possibly say he forgives me?"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:13, Wed 13 Apr 2022.

Rhydd found himself staring at Mallory as the wizardess gave a detailed explanation of what was bothering her.

"Really?" he blurted out when she had finished. "That's all it is? That's it?"

He shook his head in wonderment. "Not to be rude, Mallory, but you must have led a very sheltered life, to be bothered to such an extent by peeking into someone's mind."

Ryhdd took a deep breath, wondering how he could explain his outlook on such things, which was obviously so different from the wizardess's own feelings.

"Well, first of all," he began, "the fault lies entirely with this Dzaan . . . or whoever he is -- and not with you. He chose not to cooperate, and to resist your enquiries with all his might. Thus, the fault for all that befell him is of his own doing."

"And secondly, he should be grateful that all that you did was poke around in his mind a little bit. With something like this -- when innocent lives are at risk -- dire, very painful measures are fully justified in order to learn the extent of his knowledge, in my opinion."

"If push came to shove, in order to learn what he knows -- and hopefully save innocent lives, as I say -- I would have been willing to dangle him head-down from a low branch, over a slow fire."

"Your being willing to expend your own magicks and energies saved him from that."

"'Tis a hard, cruel world out there, Mallory." Rhydd fell silent and stared up at the ceiling for a moment, then continued.

"In order to discourage Orc raiding parties from venturing into territory that I see fit to protect, I nail body parts of their scouts that I have slain to trees that mark the boundaries of the lands that are off-limits to them."

"Brutal? Yes. But the Orcs understand such measures. I firmly believe that it saves the lives of some who cannot adequately protect themselves, who would otherwise surely perish."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:47, Wed 13 Apr 2022.

That her concerns were met with such a reply... Mallory didn't quite know how to feel about it.  On one hand, part of her was relieved that Rhydd could take the matter in stride.  He was the rough sort, after all - hardened by his lifestyle, to be able to give threats that had frightened her only days prior.  But on the other hand, she felt he did not fully grasp what it was she experienced.  There were some things that simply could not be understood second-hand, after all.

After a few moments of silence as she digested his reassurances, she spoke again.  "There is a difference, at least to myself, between fault and responsibility.  Dzaan made his choice, but so too did I make mine.  I didn't have to do that.  I chose to.  His refusal to cooperate does not absolve me of the responsibility of my actions.  What I did to him was no kindness.

When I was quite young... when it was found that I had the capacity to use magic, my teacher gave me a particular lesson.  The very first spell I ever cast in all my life.  He took me to the courtyard where a fine boar captured for the slaughter was tethered, gave me a scroll of arcane script, and bid me to it.  He would not tell me what the spell would do, only how to use it." she explained quietly.  A hand raised ever so slightly, one finger extended in an echo of the motion that had been made so many years ago.  "A whisper, a gesture.  That's all it took.  The creature howled in agony and dropped dead on the spot, just like that.  It was so simple... so effortless.  A wave of my hand and a life was gone.  I didn't understand at first, but in time it became clear what my teacher meant to impress upon me."

Another swallow of her tea to soothe her aching voice didn't really do much good.  She lifted her gaze just enough to peer Rhydd's way through the drape of her hair and found his own eyes set on the ceiling in his thoughts.  "One might say there's no real difference between that and slitting the boar's throat.  It was destined to be dinner either way, and its death was for the betterment of others, so what's the difference?  But it matters to me.  What that day taught me was that I, and those like me, have the capacity to do irrevocable harm with frightening ease.  The more you do it, the easier it becomes.  Magic allows me to enforce my will upon the world in a way mundane means never could, both for better and worse.  And, for that, there are lines we must set ourselves that should never be crossed.  Noblesse oblige.  Those who have power must use it responsibly, lest they become monsters and tyrants."

She shook her head and swallowed down a hard lump in her throat.  "I once swore to myself I would never kill another living creature, but in time I crossed that line without remorse.  Then I swore I would never kill an intelligent being.  With the Ice Trolls, that too was an oath soon broken.  I swore to myself I would never take someone's will from them, certain I could hold true to that, yet here we are." As she took another drink of tea, a part of her left wanting yearned for strong wine.  "I fear for what I might yet do, what I might become, that my convictions prove themselves so weak already."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:08, Wed 13 Apr 2022.

Mallory's building of word-castles in the air was dizzying to Rhydd. He had heard tales of those who could spend all day debating how many angels could dance on the head of a pin. He decided that not only could the young wizardess do such a thing, but she would revel in it.

He did listen intently to her, though. He owed her that, for all the unaccustomed smiles she had given him as of late.

When she had finished, he reached out and gently touched her lips with his forefinger. "Hush, now. You need your rest."

"And take comfort in the fact that your conscience stands such staunch, strong guard against the possibility of your abusing the power that, as you say, you so easily could."

"You, of all people, shall be e'er resolute, and shall not give in to the temptations that your Art whispers to you about in the dark hours of the night, when all else is quiet and still."

"So, do not beat yourself up over what needed doing in this instance. And take comfort in the fact that in spite of your concerns, your way of doing things was much gentler and less painful than mine would have been."

"Consider this, also -- your acting as you did undoubtedly kept our group together. For  I do not think that Farwalker or Squire Khulekani would have remained in my company, had I done what I was prepared to do."

"And in conclusion, my dear Mallory," Rhydd added with a chuckle, "allow me to end with the observation that you think too much."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:22, Wed 13 Apr 2022.

The touch to her lips left Mallory with a wide-eyed look and, despite herself and the moment, a sudden rise of red across her cheeks.  Though in the back of her indeed ever-busy thoughts she felt she was being condescended to somewhat - Rhydd previously pictured her a naive bookworm, fresh out into the big wide world with no idea of its ways.  Some bit of that perception still remained, perhaps.

But, at the heart of it, he meant to help her.  He offered a mercy and outreach she didn't feel she deserved in the slightest.  In return she stilled her troubled thoughts as best she could, let her reddened eyes shut, and rested her head to Rhydd's shoulder in silence.

"Of course, honey," the vagrant responded when Mallory asked to be left alone. She shuffled away over to the mother and child and conversed with them instead.

Sometime later that evening . . .

"Well of course the man's an absolute cad and I'd not trust him further than I could throw him.  But I'm an outsider to these parts and it behooves me to respect local authority, one way or another."
"Even when it would further our enemies' cause? I encourage you to think long and hard on this ideal of yours," Duvessa said, her judgemental stare as sharp as the reply.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:40, Tue 19 Apr 2022.

If Duvessa sought to rile a strong reaction out of Mallory by means of defensiveness or even just a reflex to authoritative scolding, she'd end up with a rather muted reply given.  Ever since the interrogation Mallory had seemed to lose much of her spark; she was sedate for the most part, more measured and somber than when the Speaker had first encountered her.  The experience had taken much of her spirit for the time being, it seemed.

"I don't know what your past or present situation are like, Speaker, so I may only speak by my own perspective.  Where I come from men like Naerth are as pavement tiles: commonplace in their sheer abundance, often filthy, yet deeply anchored and intrinsically vital to the city.  If one is pulled up, it will invariably be replaced with another just like it." the young noble explained in a passive tone, quite the contrast to Duvessa's barb.  "I am an outsider to these parts.  I know nothing of the local affairs, who is who, and such.  It would be a grievous error to cast judgments and make enemies before I understood the lay of the land, especially in towns that sacrifice people to a baleful goddess.  A nobody troublemaker from beyond the walls would surely make a very tempting target."

Throughout, Mallory hardly blinked more than a few times.  Her gaze rested steady and still on Duvessa's; neither indignant nor deferential.  "Both yourself and Naerth have shown me good and bad sides, Speaker, each worthy of praise and condemnation alike.  I have no involvement with the factions around here; their affairs do not concern me.  Whatever enemies you both hold are not mine.  I do not act on Naerth's behalf, nor on yours.  Why, I've acted more in the interest of the general public good and have saved more lives since coming to Ten-Towns than anything else.

I am simply trying to get by, make money, and go home while not hurting anyone in the process." A simple summary given with a shrug.  "Given your own choices today, I would think you would appreciate a decision made of raw pragmatism."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:34, Thu 21 Apr 2022.

"Forgive me," Duvessa replied, her visage ever scrutinizing, "when I say 'our enemies' cause' I mean 'the prolonged suffering and unnecessary death of civilians'. Something we surely both oppose. Speaker Naerth, however, does not. He only seeks to better his own standing and that of his organization, the common folk be damned. And the notion that there is an endless supply of competent corrupt politicians waiting in line is naive — it is my experience that his kin disappears when combated. Tomorrow then would yield a new ruler, and at times they are of the good sort. At times they are not. But nothing changes if men like Naerth are tolerated, or, worse yet, enabled."

She breathed deeply, the edge of her tone dulling with her outbreath. "It is my duty to take a stance. If those privileged choose to remain complacent, who then in my place?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:06, Wed 20 Apr 2022.

For a time, Mallory sat in quiet speculation to mull over Duvessa's words.  Her interactions with Naerth had the same feel of a duel which demanded quickness; to linger was to present the other with an opportunity to seize leverage and momentum.  Duvessa didn't strike her the same way at all and Mallory permitted herself to lower her guard just a bit in return.  The frankness of the Speaker was a refreshing change of pace.

"Perhaps things are simpler here." she'd let her head rest back a bit to gaze up at the ceiling amid her pondering.  "The entire population of Ten Towns could be absorbed into a single district of my city with nary a ripple to be noticed, you know?  The scale is so much greater.  Everything is so enormous, complex, and entrenched that changing even the smallest facet is a monumental task to even plan, let alone carry out."  Though the idea of a backwater settlement's leader calling a Neverwinter noble naive in matters of politics was laughable, Mallory's words bore no condescension for the difference between their worlds.  If anything, they were tinted with a sort of wistfulness.  "To make genuine, tangible improvements... and see it actually bear fruit.  Hm.  That is not something I've been able to do often in my life.  I'd rather like it, I think."

Another lapse into silence followed, but it was quite brief.  Only a few beats before the young noble brought her dark eyes back to meet Duvessa's once more.  "I've afforded Naerth my services, but we hold no loyalty to one another beyond mutual profit.  He has not asked anything of me that I felt would make Targos worse off though.  Nor would I entertain any requests that endanger others' well-being: I'm not so mercenary as to value coin over ethics." she leaned forward with greater intent, hands folded and thumbs steepled together.

"I know where I stand with Naerth and I have some idea of his intentions.  You, however, are another matter entirely.  So, Speaker; what do you propose instead?  What do you need?"
This message was last edited by the player at 22:02, Wed 20 Apr 2022.

Mallory's last question brought forth a slight smile on the strict woman. "You'll find me a simple creature — I wish only to rule well for the benefit of my people. We are currently faced with an unprecedented disaster, and my intention is to weather the storm until its source can be banished." She leveled her stare once more at the noblewoman, her seriousness returning. "I need a team. Gods and Arcane Brotherhoods can be felled, but it requires more than just politics. However, I will not cooperate with someone who's motivations might shift. Naerth is a leech. He clings to you with his teeth and removing him is difficult and at times painful."

"You'll find me a simple creature — I wish only to rule well for the benefit of my people."

Now there was a line Mallory had heard before.  Spoken as freely and readily from the mouths of those who held genuine goodwill in their hears just as much as those who used it as an empty platitude to hide their selfish designs.  Though as Duvessa continued, the young noble's expression quirked - first into confusion, then wry disbelief, before it finally settled to a more thoughtful manner as she rolled the notions about properly.

"You speak as if from experience." she pointed out on mention of Nearth.  "He is quite leery of you as well; enough so to urge me not to work with you in the first place.  From what I know he's relatively new to Ten Towns, so what might have gone on between the two of you to raise such pointed ire?"

"I'm sure he's spoken all manners of falsehoods to turn you, or anyone, against me," Duvessa answered, gently pacing through Markham's office. "I simply recognize the man for who he is. Though he has made little effort to hide his origins. It struck me as odd," she continued, her voice taking on an inquisitive tone, "how the Black Network suddenly decided to take an interest in Icewind Dale, a place often omitted from the maps due to its insignificance. Surely their efforts here yields copper on the gold compared to, well, essentially anywhere else, doubly so considering the economic hardship we're facing. An opportunity to pounce on?" She tilted her head as she aired the possibility. "Seems like a simple explanation, so I dug a bit deeper and found Naerth Maxildanarr used to be the accountant for house Cassalanter of Waterdeep — a highly prestigious position — until he was routed for embezzling considerable sums. So he's holed up in Targos, of all places." She stopped, grasping the back of a chair. "That he's Zhentarim doesn't register on the townsfolk — they'd be content being ruled by Asmodeus himself so long as their pockets are lined. And one can't blame them, for at the end of the day all that matters is whether or not there's food on the table.

What happened to my grain? You were part of the caravan led by this Niels ranger, were you not?" she asked Mallory. "That cargo was to be dispersed to all of Ten-Town. Do not tell me it fell wayward because of a blizzard — I find that excuse laughable."
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:40, Tue 16 Apr.

"Honestly, he's practically advertising it.  Who keeps Winged Serpents as so-called pets in this climate?  I can admire the dedication to aesthetic, but one must consider practicality sooner or later."  The Zhentarim had gone through many iterations throughout the centuries, being as old and well-anchored an organization as they were, but Mallory felt its most recent incarnation enjoyed its own air of drama a bit too much.

"That would certainly do it, though.  Normally one might think the Network was capitalizing on the situation to seize control of the waterbound trade, or perhaps as a foothold to begin operations on the landbound wealth of Fireshear or Ironmaster." Mallory reasoned as she turned her memories to maps and trade route treaties stowed in the back of her mind.  "It's more likely a matter of convenience then.  If a stray agent can turn a profit, all the better.  If he fails and disappears, then it's of no great loss to the Network either."

There was more to the matter, of course, but Mallory was not yet certain of her trust in Duvessa just yet.  There were bridges that she wasn't ready to take a torch to.  Though when it came to burned business relationships, mention of Niels sparked an immediate kindling right then and there.  The noble's visage darkened in bitter annoyance at the very mention of the name.

"I know that fool, certainly.  He owes me a fair bit of coin, and I owe him the flat of my palm across his cheek." she'd not been privy to what all the caravan was transporting aside from merchants and their cargo, but the revelation that supplies had been co-opted brought a moment of clarity.  She groaned and rolled her eyes.  "Ooh, that makes so much more sense now... I figured he was in someone's pocket rather than just being completely incompetent, but now it all comes together.

We were indeed 'lost' in a blizzard on our way here and I was left utterly baffled as to how Niels somehow managed to drive us not only entirely off Ten Trail, but to Targos' gates.  Then he forced the merchants to off-load their goods before he'd set out to Bryn Shander again, and even abandoned me and my companions entirely.  Took our fee and just left us high and dry.  We had to walk here and nearly died thrice over!  There is a Dragon out there!" she threw up her gloved hands as the sheer frustration of that whole affair was enough to revive some of her energy.  Nothing like a grudge to rally one's enthusiasm.  "Once I heard the merchants had been forced to move their wares, I assumed there was trade manipulation at work."

"Once I heard the merchants had been forced to move their wares, I assumed there was trade manipulation at work."
"I assumed so as well," Duvessa replied. She laid it to rest, but it was clear she wasn't entirely content with the answer, as if there was still something nagging her. The lack of trust went both ways. "Naerth will continue these games, and, unfortunately, he is a force to be reckoned with. He's an opportunist, and he has rightly identified the foothold he can gain to turn the Ten-Towns against each other.

As for the Dragon, we're familiar with her," she continued. "There's been sightings earlier on this month, but she steers clear of the towns, so as long as you're within a walled settlement, you're safe. As are the routes connecting the towns." After a pause in the conversation she gave Mallory one final appraising look. "Very well. I believe matters are settled. It is unfortunate, about your fare."

---

The Simulacrum sobbed even before it was time for its execution. Failing any magical alternatives for a more merciful disposal, it was decided a swift cut to the neck, down here in the jails away from the public, was best. Duvessa offered to swing the sword herself, but the duty ultimately fell on Markham.

And so he stood above the miserable mockery of a man, blade raised. "You may speak your final words, Dzaan, the Red Wizard," Markham said solemnly.

He looked up through tears, past the bars of his cell, and forced his bloodshot eyes to meet with Mallory's. "Die, you wretch. Suffer as I have. May your efforts amount to nothing."

The sword fell, and Dzaan, the Simulacrum, was no more. Before his head could reach the groud it turned into a dry, powdery snow, as did the dripping blood and stain on the felled blade. The rest of his body was soon to follow, and in an flash it was reduced to a heap of tiny motes of crystal flakes. Somewhere inside, beneath the bestowed simple clothes, was a banded lock of Dzaan's brown hair.

"Calling him an opportunist is apt.  The trouble is when one leaps at each opportunity without caution as to the consequences.  To be perfectly honest, and at risk of putting myself at some disadvantage --" Mallory began, in effort to offer at least some bridge of trust between herself and Duvessa "-- Naerth is a profitable business partner, but he has already crossed me twice now in pursuit of opportunity.  The third and final time is surely coming and, when that inevitably happens, it will not fall the way he hopes."

It was ultimately up to Duvessa whether she wanted to take the chance of entrusting any work to Mallory given her connections.  A worthwhile risk in taking her by her word, that she might gain an asset her rival hoped to use?  Or the danger of taking a chance on a two-faced mage, given Mallory's demonstrated knack for magically-aided coercion?

"It's somewhat funny... my original intent was to come straight here, to Bryn Shander, days ago in hopes of establishing business.  Had it not been for Niels, I never would have set foot in Targos nor met Naerth.  Curious how different things would have been had we met one another first, isn't it?

You need a team and I need coin, so I feel we can help each other so long as operate within boundaries of your making.  I'm no warrior though - I'm a seer, an informant, a scholar, and a enchanter of magical craft.  It is my place to empower those who would take more direct action.  I would hope all I've provided regarding Dzaan would be evidence enough of my skill and conviction, though I understand if you would rather hold me at arm's length." she offered a polite, deferential bow of her head.  "If you would have them, my talents are yours to purchase.  And, regardless, I will express your desires to those I know who could bear arms to your need.  Discreetly, of course.  Naerth will hear not a whisper from me of anything that has happened in our time together."

---

When the time came, Mallory did not look away.  Her jaw was set with a grim tension and eyes remained steady as they held Dzaan's gaze.  She had inflicted suffering upon the Simulacrum and, even if others perhaps did not think it was worth fretting over, would not spare herself from allowing him whatever measure of vengeance he could yield.  He deserved far more of her than an uttered curse.

And then, in a flash of steel, it was done.  It wasn't until the last motes of stray magic dissipated away into the aether did the young noble finally allow herself to close her eyes and heave a long, heavy sigh.  A hand raised to touch the button sewn to her collar.  The real Dzaan was long dead and the Simulacrum was little more than an echo of him, she knew.  It was another life she knew of only as a memory after death.  Another to carry with her.

Mallory stepped along into the cell and stooped to retrieve the bound coil of dark hair from the stone floor.  "If I may?" she asked of Duvessa.  A macabre sort of memento to keep, but it was of no use to anyone otherwise.