"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.