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?"