Riloth 19th the 695th

"And all that time, Uncle was yammering at me through this stupid sword, trying to push me back to the path of my father,” Trish said, after completing her tale.

"He wants me to go back to the elves, show them Waas' majesty or some such nonsense. Well, wanted. Ever since I've met you, he's been less of a stick up my ass."

She looked at the hilt protruding from her exposed harness. She'd not touched it in my sight since the battle with the demon.

"I do not want to walk my father's path. I have nothing against Waas, but I will not serve her."

She'd recounted her whole story, bereft of any outward sign of emotion, but now it was catching up to her.

"Maybe you can walk your father's path your own way," I suggested. "He thought he could best serve Waas by bringing the elves back to her side, but to her that is only a means to an end. She's a Warden. She sacrificed her eternal freedom to contain her brother. I can think of a few ways a master-of-disguise-assassin-thief could serve her."

She continued to sit, staring at the ground, until finally she said

"Master-of-disguise-assassin-thief-pirate."

We shared a laugh and then sat in silence until she'd reined in her tumultuous emotions.

"We should probably head in and tell everyone I used to work for the evil dragon we are facing."

And we did. Trish told her story and drew a picture of Tavia, Bearskin confirmed it to be the woman he sought to save his people from.

"What now?" Bearskin asked.

"I think it might be time we pay Lord Barion a visit," I suggested. "I don't think it's likely Tavia is the source of the resets, but honestly, at this point, it wouldn't surprise me."

Daulf spoke up in support, "I think that's a sound plan. And I think you're right. The gods have nudged our paths together for a purpose. I knew not why, but now I'm certain. Faust's minions are still at work, and we've got a lot of catching up to do."

"I think you're just agreeing, so you get to beat the living snot out of Barion," Trish said.

A slight smile crept onto Daulf's face.

"I'll admit the thought had crossed my mind."

"So what are we going to do? Torture him?" I asked the room. "Does anybody here know how to do that?"

"Why are you all looking at me?" Trish said, as we all turned to her. "I don't know how to torture anybody. I may be a criminal, but I'm a confidence woman. People tell me things when I ask nicely."

Daulf spoke up, "I don't think it will come to that but, if it does, I can handle it."

"Oh of course. The tower teaches their seekers to torture," I said, in a tone heavy with disappointment.

He was quick to correct my misconception.

"I have never tortured in service to Illunia. These skills pre-date my tenure as her champion and I wouldn't even consider doing so if the stakes were anything less than where we are now."

The room stilled to an awkward silence and then Daulf continued.

"We will need a small room large enough for two chairs and a desk. Barion is a wizard. Do you have means of containing his magic?

He directed the question to Dagmar.

"Aye, I can manage that."

"Good. When we collect him we will need to secure evidence of his crimes. Villains are more likely to speak to their sins when the evidence of their misdeeds is laid out before then."

We all asked a few questions and then broke to find a room best suited for the task. Daulf chose one of the unused study rooms on the third floor which appeared larger than I remembered it to be. Roland brought some of his furniture in and Dagmar and Levar got to work creating the Will draining device I'd dubbed the Headband of Headaches.

The fact they ultimately decided to tie it around Barion's neck still bugs me. The name was perfect.

Riloth 19th the 696th-719th

A lot happened over the next few weeks. We enacted the kidnapping plan, we covered more ground in the search, and I experimented with you and Levar a lot. I think it'd be best if I went through each topic on their own.

At the reset, Dagmar and Roland set out to search. Dagmar took the Kituh to the low mountainous region to the north of the plains I was searching, while Roland explored the forest. Unfortunately, Roland found that using his Blessings caused false readings on the Will detector. Levar didn’t think they’d be able to counteract that, since Assuine’s Blessing allowed the user to draw upon the power of nature, a power that was very diverse and impossible to filter for without blocking everything. This meant that Roland would take much longer to cover the ground, still far faster than either Dagmar or I could explore the woods, but far from the few weeks he’d expected it to take.

I too set off to the Kituh with Dagmar. She went north, and I traveled south to town to kidnap a Lord. The task was laughably easy. Levar directed me to a sleeping concoction in his shop, and I dosed Barion while he slept. A quick Teleport brought us to the slaver’s tunnels, and a large sack of Barion’s own gold saw him on his way north hogtied in the back of a wagon under the Dahn’s next load of provisions and evidence of his crimes.

There is no honor amongst slavers it seems. After dropping off our captive, I went back to the library to do some more research on ensouled artifacts, but more on that later.

I returned to the Dahn to find Barion tied to a chair in the study room, still asleep. Arrayed nearly before him lay his journal pages where he contemplated his treason, the tax records from his stash of booty, a pile of gems from said booty stash, and a Trish's sketch of Tavia. The table had been runed to preserve the papers laid upon it so that we need not fear losing them if the interview went on past the reset.

“When will he wake up?” I asked.

Levar answered, handing Daulf a vial, “As soon as you give him this. Just hold it under his nose and he’ll wake right up.”

Daulf walked in and around the sleeping lord. Barion had been positioned with his back to the door, so that we could watch through the peepholes Roland had drilled without him noticing the additional audience. Daulf did a quick check of the documents before him and the captive’s bond before finally waking him up.

“What? Janet? Is that you?” came Barion’s groggy voice through the door.

More clearly he shouted, “Chosen Daulf? What are you—why am I—Untie me this instant! I don’t need to ask if you know how I am, for I know you are well aware.”

Daulf sat calmly through all the confusion and posturing, waiting for Barion to settle down. He yelled for a bit longer before he noticed the papers arrayed before him.

“Oh. I see,” he said in a more subdued tone.

“I appreciate that we can skip all the needless denials,” Daulf said, tapping the cover of the journal. “I know what you did, and I know who you did it for. What I want to know is the long-term plan.”

“I know nothing of that. I just wanted wealth and power. Our agreement is done, and I know nothing else,” Barion said, rather defensively. Even I could tell he lied.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t lie,” Daulf scolded him, like I imagine he would an unruly student claiming their dog ate their assignment. “What was her plan?”

“I will not say.”

“Hmm. Well, that was true enough at least,” Daulf said, getting up from his chair. “I’m going to leave you here. When you’d like to talk, just shout. Until then, we’ll send someone in with food each day. You should know that if you remove the collar from your neck, you will die immediately. You could try to escape, but you won’t succeed.”

There was no need to empty his waste bucket. One strange perk of the resets and the duplicate-disintegrating process was that once food had been 'used' it disappeared exceedingly fast at the start of the next reset. Except urine. We drew water from the fountain in the foyer and that never disappeared, though it did seem to turn back into pure water when the impurities went the way of dust—not that anyone was willing to try.

Daulf walked past Barion, cutting the bonds as he passed him. Levar and I jumped out of the way, just in time for the door to open, revealing Bearskin’s imposing form.

“This is Bearskin, we found him in your secret tunnel. He is not fond of you and will bring you all your meals, should you have any thoughts of escaping during them.”

And then he locked the door and we waited.

And waited.

Barion did not speak. He did not even eat at first. His first three meals disappeared, making it to the reset untouched. After that, Barion relented and ate. Each day Bearskin visited he asked, “Speak?” to which Barion shook his head.

For two weeks he persisted. He made a few futile attempts at escape, but eventually he removed his collar, and found Daulf had been true to his word. Removing the collar had caused a cut to appear all around his neck, quickly causing the lord to bleed out.

“Flood,” was all Daulf said when we’d found him the next morning. "I guess he's more devoted to the cause than his journal let on."

The next morning I picked him up again. This time we took a more psychologically traumatic approach.

We put preservation runes under his body so it wouldn't disappear.

“What? Janet? Is that you?” came Barion’s groggy voice once more when he woke.

More clearly he shouted, “Chosen Daulf? What are you—why am I—Untie me this instant! I don’t need to ask if you know—is that a body? Who is that?"

"Oh this?" Daulf asked in an even tone as he walked towards the body. He lifted the head showing the pale face to our captive. "It's you. We tried this once before, and you chose to end your own life. Let's hope you choose wiser this time."

Daulf repeated his questions from the first time. Barion sat silently staring at his corpse the whole time.

When we let him loose in the room, he ran right to the corpse and examined it for scars and birthmarks. He attempted his first escape that night, and the next morning, and at the meal delivery. After only a day, he removed his collar.

Daulf let out a heavy sigh.

"Torture it is."

It only took Daulf three hours to get answers out of Barion. I will not recount what he did, he asked that I not write it down, not that I would have had he asked.

Barion's screams filled the Dahn and when it was over blood covered the floor. In the end, Barion sobbed as he answered everything Daulf asked.

Tavia had approached him through his smuggler contacts and offered him anything he wished for his help in taking the city. His terms were magical secrets and control of Landing in whatever world remained after Tavia achieved her goals.

After the success, she invited him into her inner circle and offered him her blood and a means of maintaining his sanity. His journal had him debating but in the last few days he'd come around hard.

He didn't know the details of her plan but the end goal was to free Faust, and freeing the Avatar was the first step in that insanity. She made it seem like the escape of the god around which the planet was formed wouldn't destroy said planet and all life thereon but I’m skeptical.

Daulf pressed for details but there wasn't much. Some names of smugglers that Tavia employed, a few nobles and officials known to be her agents, and some out of date information on work Barion had done to support the first assault on the Hardune.

This assault, as we feared, had been intended to wipe out the Hardune completely in a single strike, while simultaneously allowing the Foresaken access to the Track. It appeared she had been wildly successful. The reports we'd heard before leaving Edgewater had not been promising.

The Avatar's escape was inevitable with most of the rivers still blocked. The Plume Lake would dry out, and the monster would escape its bonds to reign destruction once more.

The question was, why was Tavia still scheming if she'd won? The answer had to be that her plan was still vulnerable. The assassins on the road meant she saw us as a threat to her ultimate goal. Or she truly did believe the world would continue after Faust's release, and she wanted to make sure we'd not be around to see it.

He didn't know what Tavia wanted the children for, but he knew they were being collected to the east near Orinqth, which was a great confirmation of the slavers' information.

Daulf healed Barion after the session, and we set him loose in the forest. He ran after only a moment's hesitation.

"I'm a bit torn," I said to Dagmar and Trish. "That guy is super evil and deserves worse than what we did to him but... I feel a little bad for killing him after what we just put him through."

Dagmar spit in the dirt and said, "Calling that man a festering boil on a waste worm's arse would be an insult to boils."

"Oo, that's a good one," Trish praised. "You dwarves are so creative with your insults."

She'd perked up a lot after our talk. After sketching Tavia, she'd moved into sketching her parents and then moved onto helping Roland carve decor onto his pieces. Roland's work was good, but next to Trish's it appeared the scratching of an amateur. The art seemed to have reawoken something in her that had been absent since we met, and she no longer chafed at the confinement—much.

I left the two to their discussion on insults in peace. Inside I found Daulf, drinking heavily of one of the dwarven ales.

"Are you doing okay?" I asked him once he registered my presence.

"Not at all. I think maybe it's time I told you more about my past."

He was not drunk—amazingly—but his voice quavered a bit as if fighting to hold on emotions.

"Are you sure? It can wait. I don't need to know this instant."

"No," he said. "I think I need to explain. I have been a Chosen for thirty years, but Illunia was not the first god I served. Before I found redemption in her, I was the Chose of another god. Before I served the goddess of knowledge I served Ritchen, the god of vengeance and wrath."