To say this is a shitty way to wake up is something of an understatement.

The half-elf hisses a snarl through clenched teeth and takes several moments indulging in fathomless rage. Maybe if she were in a bit less agony she could come up with some kind of clever argument as to why this is unfair and dumb and should not happen and was monumentally stupid for anyone to do, but actually, she's kind of past that. Instead, the entirety of her mind is swallowed by something along the lines of I will find whomever did this to me and I will cut out their heart and feed it to them as they die, without quite so much specificity. She has no idea who did this, or why, or how, but she will find them and they will regret it.

Okay, okay. Anger's all well and good, but it's pointless if it's not directed. First order of business: cracking open her eyes to get an idea of where she is. Second order of business: try to reach a hand up to grasp at the hole in her chest and judge the damage.

She can't move.

Well, that's not entirely true. She can move her eyes, and she can breathe, but she's otherwise completely paralyzed.

This is potentially problematic.

Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrghhh!!

Breathe. Breathe. Fathomless rage when it has an outlet. What are her surroundings like? Can she move her tongue and mouth to talk? Wiggle her fingers, maybe?

Her surroundings: stone, unworked granite to be more precise. She's surrounded by rune-inscribed pillars.

There's someone approaching her. A woman, bald, with tattoos on her pate and simple red robes.

Red robes, bald head, tattoos; hello, Red Wizard of Thay. What, is she being studied by amoral wizards? Great. That's great. She has no idea how that could possibly happen, but that makes... some degree of sense, she supposes.

She watches the woman and lets her opinion of her situation be known with a little snarl. This half-elf: unhappy.

The Red Wizard casts Dispel Magic.

Nothing happens.

"Well, I was prepared for that," she mutters.

Greater Dispel goes to the same result.

"...hoped I wouldn't have to do this," she mutters.

Mordenkainen's Disjunction goes through. Ciaveth can move again... technically. Any attempt to actually do so will be met with agonizing pain.

She recognizes the spell. She'd be excited about getting to see it cast by someone besides Sand the grumpy elven wizard, and want to ask for a copy of it, except for how everything is horrible, this person is probably not her friend, and she is filled with fathomless rage. Mordenkainen's Disjunction is some serious spellcasting. That... does not bode well for her, actually.

Her fingers scrape across the stone floor into fists and she sucks in a larger (agonizing) breath. She is not, actually, dumb enough to try to attempt to get up. She curls inward, clutching towards the hole in her chest. Not mortal? Yep, not mortal. Probably would be if she ripped the stitches or sneezed too hard, but the hole isn't gushing blood, so. That's good. As long as she doesn't sneeze. Talking is probably fine, though. She can put words together.

"Do you, so happen, to know," she growls methodically, breaking up the words to make them more manageable through the pain, "who, put me here."

The Red Wizard furrows her brow, leaning down to administer a healing potion. "I don't understand. If someone did this, cut you open and trapped you here, surely you would remember? But you don't know, do you. I can understand your confusion... I- it must be very disorienting."

"Disorienting... is a word for it, sure," she grumbles. Infuriating is the word she'd use, but disorienting is accurate enough. The healing potion helps, maybe she can actually move now.

"Thank you," she adds, carefully beginning the painful task of picking herself off of the floor. She doesn't have to get all the way to standing just yet, but she would rather not be face down in the dirt anymore, thanks.

Okay, so, logic. She can pay attention to logic, right? Right. There's a hole in her chest; this is less illogical and insane than it first appears, because she had actually been carrying something notable within her chest. The broken shard of a magic sword. Not an efficient place for it, but she was a child when she acquired it, and seeing as how the thing was lodged in her chest, not very smart to just rip out willy nilly. Apparently someone decided to do that without asking her. Hooray.

Now how did they get her? The last thing she remembers, she'd just killed a big bad evil guy, and then the big bad evil guy's lair promptly started collapsing on her. Rocks fall, everybody panics and tries not to die. She... thinks she got hit in the head with something? Her hand checks her head for trauma, and finds a tender bump. Okay, so that is what made her unconscious. And then.... did someone fish her out of the rubble? Or something? In... the middle of the Shadow King's lair, in the Mere of Dead Men, which under his influence became even less friendly than the name implied. Lots of things aren't adding up. If she was fished out of the rubble, she's looking very good for it, and clearly she wasn't there for very long, because she doesn't have a Ring of Sustenance or anything, and while she feels hungry, she doesn't feel faint or starving. So that implies... someone was watching her and waiting for the perfect time to strike? For, by gaping hole in her chest, the shard of the magic sword that had once been buried therein? Again? Why do people keep wanting that very specific broken sword. Except, the last time someone wanted the sword shard, they'd been happy to kill her for it, and... she is not dead. Considering she woke up face down with a hole in her chest, in a magical prison, this does not seem like a mercy.

"Something's not adding up," she mutters, mostly to herself. Her eyes search her surroundings, and she adds, "... Are we underground?"

"We're in a barrow deep beneath the soil of Rashemen. The locals say that powerful spirits dwell here, hostile to those who enter... and those who try to leave."

Okay, that just makes no sense at all.

"... Wonderful. Okay. And... how did you know I was here to come scrape me off of the ground and feed me a healing potion?"

"I was told to come here by a woman named Lienna, a friend of my mother's. Before you ask, I don't know how she knew, but I intend to take you to her and make certain she gives both of us some answers." Her voice has an edge of frustration to it.

"But that's after we get out of here," she adds. "For the moment, haste is what matters."

"Prudence has always served me better," she says absently, but haste does matter at least a little bit. For some reason, the person who put her here didn't loot her body before dumping her here. Her Bag of Holding is missing, but her spellbook is fine, as is anything that she was physically wearing, including spell components. Even the cloak with the giant stupid star that she hates. Since she's not anywhere near Neverwinter anymore, and doesn't need to play the 'I'm very loyal, no really, please let me keep this keep so I can kill your big bad evil guy for you,' game anymore, it's going in the nearest ditch the minute she has a suitable replacement. It's very recognizable, though, so: Prestidigitation, now the cloak is covered in dried dirt that is still somehow less ugly than the big dumb stupid star that marked her as Knight-Captain of Neverwinter.

Then she retrieves her spellbook, checks it briefly for missing pages (there are none), and then starts preparing spells. Her head and chest hurts, and she's hungry, sore, and hates everything, but she's honestly kind of used to that by now, so it's not getting in her way.

“Both are admirable virtues,” the wizard nods.

”Patience is a virtue,” chirps a voice from inside Safiya’s robe. “I learned that from Mistress!”

”Not now, Kaji,” the wizard says, embarrassed.

... Okay, maybe she doesn't hate the little familiar that just embarrassed the Red Wizard, that was admittedly pretty cute.

"I suppose just teleporting out now that you've found me isn't an option for some reason, is it," she observes, between spell preparations.

“No, the barrow is warded against teleportation,” she says. “That’s why I had to walk in. I’ve prepared a teleport for when we get out, though, so we won’t have to trek all the way from here to Mulsantir.”

Ciaveth nods. "Pity. Do you have a light weapon of some kind on you, shortsword or something?"

"As it happens I do," she says, pulling a sheathed rapier from her bag. It's well-made and enchanted, and it shines with a cold blue light, but it's not a patch on the Sword of Gith.

It's really, really not. She will find her weird broken sword that was partially embedded in her chest, and she will get it back. It is her sword, it exploded and nearly killed her and she painstakingly put it sort of back together with magic, anyone that disagrees can go get bent.

"You or Lienna have very good information," she says, taking it.

"Lienna certainly does. I'm nearly as much in the dark about this situation as you are, in case that makes you feel any better... which I can't imagine it does."

"Nope! But I appreciate the disjunction, the healing potion, and the rapier anyway," she says, in a bright tone of voice that might give someone pause, considering the circumstances and how she's kind of clearly still furious. "I'm Ciaveth, by the way."

“And I’m Safiya, and in turn I appreciate the trust you’re putting in me. I’m sure you aren’t thrilled to be putting so much faith in a strange red-robed wizardess, but I promise - for what it’s worth - that I won’t make you regret it.”

She has a snappy retort along the lines of, 'Oh, I wouldn't be the one that regrets it,' that she swallows instead of says. That would be petty and unfriendly, and if there's anything she's learned from being the only adult surrounded by bickering children shaped like adults, it's that sometimes, you do not say the snappy retort just because you want to. Sometimes you shut your mouth and nod and act like you were taught literally any manners.

"If you mean that, thank you," she says, instead. "It's appreciated." Her spell preparation completed in the margins of all of the talking, she shuts her spellbook and pockets it.

"So, I'm in front because, uh." She motions to Safiya. "Wizard." It's meant to be phrased like a confirmation, but really, it's just kind of obvious that she's going in front, because really. Wizard. Ciaveth's a wizard too, but she's other things besides, including in (light, enchanted) armor, and as such she's significantly less delicate than Safiya presumably is.

"I certainly won't argue with that," Safiya says. "Here, let me-"

She casts Persistent Haste on both of them.

She smiles, just a little, at that. Haste is, and has always been, one of her very best friends.

Then she casts one of her other friends on herself, Extended Stoneskin. Also Extended Protection From Arrows. Oh, and Extended Greater Magic Weapon on the rapier. There, those are the ones that will last all day.

"Thanks. Let's hope we can just quietly sneak out of here." Somehow, she doubts it. Thus, the protection spells.

Safiya casts Premonition. Her skin shimmers with deflective energy.

"Let's hope," she agrees, not sounding very hopeful.

They hardly make it three steps out of the ring of pillars before the ground rumbles beneath their feet. "So much for escaping unnoticed. The earth spirits wake; ready yourself!"

Ciaveth sighs heavily.

"Yaaaaaaay."

There are several more buffing spells she could do, but she's not going to use them just yet. She only has so many of those, and they're short enough that she wants to save them for when she's fighting whatever is inevitably in charge of this place. Instead, she will make do with just stabbing with her (doubly) enchanted weapon, haste, and various protection spells.

(She misses her sword. The rapier's good, but it's still no Sword of Gith.)

These spirits seem to be groggy, or something; they swing their clublike appendages sluggishly, and none of them can seem to get in a solid hit. On the other hand, that might be that she's wearing enchanted armor and hasted and stoneskinned.

They each go down to a few choice stabs of her rapier, and a few Magic Missiles from Safiya's staff. "Hmm. Perhaps the tales of the great fury of Rashemi spirits were exaggerated," Safiya suggests.

"Well now that you've said that out loud, we're going to immediately come across something much, much worse," says Ciaveth in a deadpan. The quip reminds her of Shandra, which still hurts, even after so long after her death, but this is not the sort of problem one solves by not saying the cute quip that reminds her of her dead friend. Comparatively, it's an old pain. She's used to it.

Time to get back to trying to get out of here before she gets some new pains! What's the much worse thing that Safiya absolutely summoned with her words, she's excited to meet it and probably stab it.

She doesn't seem to have oh look it's a giant transparent bear spirit.

"Damnation," Safiya mutters, and hurls a Scorching Ray. "This is entirely coincidental."

"You keep telling yourself that, and we will keep on meeting bear spirits at entirely coincidental times that just so happen to coincide perfectly with proving you wrong."

Stab? Stab.

The bear spirit also goes down pretty easily. It's a bit more of a workout than the barrow guardian elementals were, but not much.

Safiya examines a nearby... campsite? "Who was camping down here? It's hardly the most hospitable location."

Ciaveth is just as confused.

“... it’s very old,” she observes. “See how rusted the cooking pot is? And there’s no sign of packing up the camp...” She looks back towards the place that was once her prison. “Perhaps whoever made that? I can’t imagine it took a single afternoon. But then why did they leave their camping supplies here once they were done...?”

Safiya finds a hefty tome entitled "The City of Judgement", which is heavily foxed and near crumbling. "They brought some light reading, as well."

(The book looks... somehow familiar.)

Ciaveth leans down to inspect it and try to remember where she’s seen this book before. It’s... not clear, it’s not any of the genres of book she took enough interest in to pester her foster father to get for her. And she hasn’t had much time for recreational reading, after, just spell books and magical theory and ancient Illefarn texts about one specific Shadow King related topic in particular.

“... Strange. I suppose that means the prison was never for me, and whoever dumped me in there was just taking advantage of what was already long there.” She looks at the prison again, squinting. She hadn't noticed, before, because she was very busy recovering from impromptu chest surgery and being very angry about her circumstances, but it contains a skeleton. She frowns.

"And the previous occupant died in it. Which I suppose says good things for its ability to hold a prisoner, but. This is... such a strange place to go out of one's way to dump a person. An ancient, forgotten prison in a spirit barrow? I wonder why here, in particular. This seems very deliberate."

"I noticed the skeleton as well. It bears no signs of violence, and - did you notice how it's positioned? Cross-legged, like someone just sat down and waited for death? And you're right - you'd think anyone with the wherewithal to get you into that prison without breaking the wards would be able to set up their own cage." Safiya shakes her head. "Questions, questions... let's get out of here so we can get some answers."

Ciaveth nods. "Yes, let's. Though I think I'll try to take the book before we go, see if it has anything telling."

Does the book crumble immediately upon being touched, even if she is being very gentle?

It's not quite that bad. The barrow isn't exactly a library, but it's protected the book from the worst of the elements.

Bound in blackened leather, the pages of the tome are brittle and cracked. The text is barely legible, faded and written in a spidery hand:

In my dream I saw a city, gray and forbidding, beneath an empty sky. Before its gates came a hideous procession - all the dead of the world, of a hundred worlds, awaiting the judgement of the gods.

And around the gray city loomed the Wall. Its bricks were souls, mortared by a foul green mold. These souls were the Faithless, who had denied the gods in life, or had never truly believed.

I drew nearer the Wall, and at once I heard the screams of those Faithless souls. "Cursed are we," they cried, "who denied the jealous gods, and now are forsaken." And other voices answered them, saying "Remember the Betrayer's Crusade. Remember the Betrayer, who swore to bring down the Wall. Have patience, for the Betrayer may yet return..."

After this, the original text has faded so badly that it is illegible. But someone has scribbled feverishly in the margin: Another reference to the Betrayer's Crusade... though Myrkul's priests deny its existence. The truth is in their vaults... in the whispering scrolls... the Lamentations of the Dead...

Safiya glances over her shoulder. "Myrkul? I suppose that makes sense, with how old the book is. It's still odd to see references to a dead god..."

"Odd, indeed. Hm. Maybe it's not involved after all. I don't see why someone would specifically want to read about... the... afterlife..." She stops, then looks back towards the skeleton. A question forms on her lips, and her expression changes to one of puzzlement.

"..... do you suppose," says Ciaveth slowly, "that the previous occupant was the one who made it? For... themselves? To die in?"

Safiya considers this. "It would explain why the campsite was left intact... and why the skeleton seemed so peaceful. I don't know if we can come to a confident conclusion, but it seems like a reasonable hypothesis."

For some reason, she wants to argue with it being a hypothesis. It's not a hypothesis, it's what happened, like puzzle pieces clicking into place. It makes perfect sense, it matches the feeling of despair and self sacrifice and what the fuck is making her so sure about this? Hypothesis is right, they have a lot of clues but no proof, so why is she so certain that it's what happened?

"Okay, hold on, we can leave the barrow later. I need to figure out how this prison works, something's... not right." 'Not right' barely scrapes the surface of it, this place feels familiar, the book feels familiar, the story feels familiar, she feels like she's remembering a dream except she doesn't remember dreaming. Did the prison trap the guy's soul? Did it rub off on her? Are the spirits around her psychically pushing the last prisoner's life onto her? Are they going to mistake her for the skeleton that died here? Is she?

She marches back over to the pillars and sets about studying them. She reaches out to touch the carved animal runes with a hand, trying to see how much of the prison's magical aura remains. If it's some kind of spiritual bleed through of a recently freed soul that had been trapped, that might make some sense...

There's a specific rune that draws her eye. It's a circle of dancers, surrounding a spiral which looks... somehow malevolent.

When she touches it, a thrill of wild energy surges through her body. The runes grow larger, and brighter, until they're the only thing she can see. Figures sweep past in a torrent of light and sound. Then there are more images, percolating through her mind. A wan but cheerful little boy, trailing in her wake. A woman with a more than passing resemblance to Safiya, explaining her latest arcane discovery, laughing and kissing her. A wall of screaming souls.

The visions pass. The runes are nothing but carvings in stone, and her eyes are clear.

Ciaveth blinks. She looks at Safiya, then back at the carving that brought some kind of vision.

.... This is not a coincidence. Her waking up here was extremely deliberate. Being saved by this person was very deliberate. Not necessarily deliberate on Safiya's part, but she is feeling very manipulated right now. Like she's been dropped into someone else's life somewhere in the middle and expected to pick everything up where they left off.

"Or maybe I actually just need to get out of here as fast as physically possible," she murmurs, faintly. "And teleport to Crossroad Keep and hide in the basement with the giant spider and hope no one finds me and drags me into their latest problems."

"I'd like to bring you to Lienna and find out what's going on before you return to your keep, but I understand the impulse," Safiya says. "Shall we continue onwards and upwards?"

"Yeah. Yeah, let's. I think this prison held more than just a corpse, though."

But yes, getting far away from this place that is probably bleeding the last occupant's soul is high up on her priority list. Brr.

Onwards and upwards! For real, this time!

They run into a couple more barrow guardians and a couple more spirit bears, but then they come to a ramp leading upwards.

When they ascend to the next level, there are two wolves waiting for them. They're not ethereal, but they're clearly not normal wolves either; for one thing they're brightly-colored and glowing, for another thing there's a glint of intelligence in their dark eyes.

"There you are, Red Wizard," the lead wolf says. "We caught your scent on the empty air, and it shook us from our sleep. But you were alone when you went below..."

"I don't know how I got here, sincerely apologize for my trespass, and would really just like to leave without disturbing your den with my presence even more. If this book is yours or belongs to anyone else, uh, present here, I apologize for touching it and would be happy to put it back, it's just very alarming to suddenly wake up here, and I was trying to figure out who was responsible and why they did it."

Gods, this is so annoying. She's absolutely about to be told that she's supposed to go keep the current occupant of the magic cage company, forever, because she smells like them from proximity, or something. She doesn't want to fight the big glowing rainbow wolf, but the big growing rainbow wolf is going to attack her. Honestly, Ciaveth just wants to leave this dank place, find and ruthlessly murder the person responsible for putting her here, have a good meal (she's starting to feel rather hungry, probably from the healing and however long she spent unconscious), and crawl under some decent covers to pretend she doesn't exist for a while. That's it, that's all she wants.

"Something was trapped in the Cavern of Runes. A poison at the heart of our dream, swallowing memories and names. Anything that emerges from there cannot be allowed to walk free. Those were the words of our god, before he sank into slumber."

"Look," says Ciaveth, the anger that had been held in check by her so far very reasonable company and lack of real outlet sliding into focus, "I am a person, not a poison. If your 'god' has a problem with that he can come down here and explain his reasoning himself. I do not want to be here, I was brought here against my will, so I am leaving."

The last part comes as a growl, with a note of finality to it. The growl from her lips changes to something more inhuman, something older and ravenous and from inside her, and she feels like she's been starving for years. Unable to eat, unable to even die, tortured and angry and above all hungry, and there's food right in front of her and it's standing in her way how dare it keep her from what she wants—

All at once, the growl rises to something like a scream, and she feels something bursting out from inside. Like she was hollow all along, and the fragile paper shell holding it in finally ripped, and the monster inside is revealed. It reaches forward, with power that's hers but not. She's so hungry, and the tasty morsel is right there, and she could no more stop this thing than she could stop herself from drinking water pressed against her lips while dehydrated. So she (it?) reaches, snatches the annoying feast in front of her like a starving animal, and forcibly drags it to oblivion. It's her, but it's not. She eats, but she doesn't, for a moment she feels strong and powerful and full, and the next she feels insatiable and still starving and like she needs more.

Her eyes flick to the second wolf. Mmm, that was good, but maybe what she needs is seconds...

Then her hands clutch her chest and she hisses in horror at the.... the.... whatever the fuck just happened, and the moment for the predator to pounce upon its prey is gone.

The second wolf turns and runs away.

"Are you alright?" Safiya asks. "That wasn't a spell... how did you do that?"

"I-I don't. I don't know," she murmurs, appalled. "I was just, I was starving, but it wasn't mine. Or. Maybe it was? I don't... I don't know."

She gingerly touches her chest, looking for the.... the something that the thing that was and was not her came out of. All she finds is flesh. Healed flesh, not the ragged wound that had been haphazardly stitched together and then dumped with a healing potion as a patch job. There's barely even a scar; it's not any more notable than the pale silvery scar that had marred her skin before she'd had forced heart surgery.

"It... healed me...?" Ciaveth whispers, hoarsely.

"Yes... you look more hale, as well. And whatever the effect was, it destroyed that spirit utterly..."

She picks up a glowing bit of matter from where the spirit stood. "Spirit essence. This... could come in handy later. Are you fit to continue, Ciaveth?"

"I. I. ... Yes, yes, we should. Get out of here now, regardless of anything else."

Mostly because she feels very much like a starving person who is trapped in the middle of a rather literal buffet, except the buffet is made out of people and aaaa.

Right, right, she'll. She'll just hold herself together. She can do that. She can keep herself from falling to pieces until she's out of this fucking place filled with delicious spirit morsels that taste very good and leave handy chunks of spirit essence that would be great for enchanting.

"Leave the spirit essence," she orders, in a no-nonsense tone of voice that hints that this is a woman who's pretty used to giving commands and having them followed, "we're taking nothing from this place, because they are going to be angry enough with us." Accordingly, she puts the book down. Not where it had been left, but close enough, and she is not going back down to the prison.

Safiya puts down the essence, frowning. "I don't think - never mind, you're in charge."

Accordingly, she follows behind Ciaveth, staff in hand.

"Thank you," she says, because she did just ask a Red Wizard of Thay to turn down a bright magical shiny, and then the Red Wizard did, so. A thank you is, in fact, in order.

She considers saying sorry to the worse-than-dead spirit wolf, but she doesn't think the wolf can hear her. And it might erode the fragile veneer of mission oriented ruthless pragmatism to reveal the sheer aaaaaa underneath, which doesn't seem like it'd help anyone at all.

Up! Can they actually just leave, please, or is there going to be something else that wants to try and get in their way?

Well, they make it up a little ways, but then there's this earthen barrier in their way.

"This... wasn't here when I came down," Safiya says. "Well, obviously it wasn't, or I wouldn't have been able to come down. It seems the spirits of the barrow have turned the earth itself against us."

She raises her eyebrows. She looks at the earthen barrier.

"Really. Really. Okay. Fine." Ciaveth clears her throat and raises her voice. "O, ancient and wise spirits," she says, sarcasm practically dripping from her words. "While I respect your intended purpose and your audacity, how do you really think this will end. Do you want to keep me, the person who just ate a spirit on accident, captive. Here. In this place. Of spirits. Is that really what you think you should be doing with your wisdom and your power. Do you think this will end well for you."

The last part comes as a bit of a snarl, and something hungry rises just below the surface, but it does not, quite, escape.

The wall crumbles before her.

Safiya raises an eyebrow. "Unconventional - I was going to suggest making an offering at that altar over there - but it does seem to have worked. Let's move on."

"Thank you," she says, to Safiya, and also to the spirits. She pats the nearby wall. "Good spirits."

They are moving on! Wow that was very dumb of the spirits to try to do, note to self! Not all spirits are very smart!

(She can probably eat the ones that are as dumb as these without even very much guilt!)

They don't actually encounter any more spirits for a while; perhaps the news has percolated through the spirit community that messing with this lady is bad news. They see tree roots coming down through the ceiling, implying that they're close to the surface.

"It shouldn't be much farther," Safiya says encouragingly. "How are you faring?"

What's this? Someone asking about her welfare? And trying to be encouraging and supportive? ... This might be the first time this has happened in months. Uh. She doesn't... quite know what to do with the question, actually. It gives her pause. When was the last time someone asked if she was okay? ... It was probably Shandra, that sounds very much like something Shandra would do. Gods, she misses Shandra.

"Uh," she says, a little preoccupied by long-stale grief and the sheer inexperience with the question. Her first instinct is to throw up a casual, 'Fine, eager to see daylight,' her second is to say something biting and snarky, but it'd be wrong to just toss it aside like it's nothing. It'd be like squashing a butterfly, or ripping apart a delicate flower. This is rare and precious and should be nurtured. Just, she doesn't quite know how.

"... I've been better. But also worse, so... About normal for my lately, really?" Wow, that was sad, yikes, too honest, too honest. "Fine if I keep focused," she assures, which makes it a bit better. Then: "Thanks for asking."

Maybe she should have just gone with the quick and clever option of wanting to see daylight, that was painfully awkward and kind of sad. Why did she not want to squash the proverbial butterfly? Being sick of being treated like a soulless hero-shaped husk whose only purpose is to forcibly drag everyone around her to kill the big evil thing that's threatening a nation, whether the nation likes it or not? Wanting to acknowledge that she has feelings and they matter? Wanting, like, at least one actual friend, instead of just a gaggle of powerful people you grudgingly tolerate because it's not like powerful adventurers grow on trees? Eugh, nevermind, this is very sad.

Safiya pauses, though she keeps walking. "I'll try not to break your focus, then," she says after a moment. Then, amused, "If this is your normal... do you often find yourself waking up in strange lands with unexplained injuries? I'm sure you get that question all the time."

“This specific instance is new. And usually my injuries are perfectly explained, but.” There’s another awkward pause. “General... shape of the circumstances? Yeah, this is. Familiar. If I tried to save a cat from a tree, the cat would end up lost, the tree burned down, and the old woman looking for her cat would be traveling with me now, and I’d be solving her copious emotional problems for her because apparently that’s my job. Uh. No offense. You seem fine?”

"I'll try to keep that impression intact," she says with a slightly awkward laugh.

Then, suddenly, her face contorts in pain. "Stop it! Leave me alone- not here, not now-"

Damn it, she just had to say it. You're supposed to know better than this, Ciaveth, what is wrong with you!!

"Safiya? What's wrong, are you all right?"

After a moment, it passes, and Safiya composes herself. "I- It's nothing, I think I... I should avoid spirit-infested barrows in the future. The chatter of the dead isn't meant for mortal ears. Speaking of which, the Rashemi say a god dwells in this place... an angry bear god who rules the barrow. Rashemi tales are colorful, but they're always true in part. Let's be on our guard."

Yeah, bullshit that was nothing. If that was nothing then Ciaveth is actually fine and does not have some weird soul eating monster inside her, and also she's the queen of Neverwinter and Luskan both. She's very talented, that way.

But, sure, if Safiya would like to not deal with it now, Ciaveth strongly empathizes and will assist and pretend that this was, indeed, nothing. She will accept the subject change.

"Great. Thanks for the warning." Hello, boss battle, how are you today.

When they reach the exit, it's a large chamber containing a raised dais upon which rest the bones of a truly massive dire bear. It also contains... a bear, appropriately sized for the bones and garishly colored in shades of red and blue.

"What stirs the air and smells so foul? Go back and die in the silence and the dark. I am tired and ill of temper."

“You and me both, pal,” grumbles Ciaveth. “But if you’ll excuse us, we’d really rather go live above in the sunlight, thanks. Go back to sleep and we can all stop bothering each other.”

"I'll not sleep while you yet live," the bear god rumbles. "I know what you are, little one. I smell the hunger that wakes inside you."

"I don't care what you smell," Safiya says angrily. "I won't let you have her."

"What do you care, Thayan? I know your kind - you love yourselves above all else."

"You don't know me, animal. But I know you. I know that your present form, for all its... color... is only a shadow of your true self. And I've shaped and bound far greater things than you."

"And I smell a wild storm in you, Thayan. Does your ally know the secrets you hide? Grief and confusion beyond measure... and something more..."

He shakes his head roughly. "Enough words! By the oath I swore, neither of you will leave my den!"

He charges at Ciaveth.

“It is very dumb to try to keep me in a den of spirits!” complains Ciaveth, but okay, it’s fighting time, then.

Step one: Curse of Impending Blades, on the big rainbow bear. Step two: draw the big rainbow bear away from the squishy wizard to give her space for casting. Step three: stab.

It's a solid plan, and Safiya seems to appreciate it. She expresses her appreciation by extending two fingers and casting a twinned Disintegrate. The green rays strike the bear unerringly.

He roars in agony and dissipates, leaving not even the dust of a successful disintegration behind.

"Oh, Disintegrate, my truest friend," Safiya says happily. "I don't think we managed to kill the bear god for good, but he'll be re-forming for a while yet. Let's get out of this place and see the sunlight again."

Wizards are such bullshit and it’s so unfair that she hasn’t been able to focus on studying wizardry exclusively. Instead she keeps needing to stab things. Because they’re trying to kill her. Sigh. At least she got to stab the bear before he got not-quite-dusted by the real wizard in the den.

“Yes, let’s. And prepare for when he inevitably comes after me, because I bet he’s going to.” Because of course he is. Maybe he’ll bring an army, that’ll be exciting.

"Regrettably, yes, I think that's quite likely."

They step outside, and Safiya casts Greater Teleport, and they're standing about half a mile from the gates of a modest city - not Neverwinter-sized, but not West Harbor either. "Just ahead of us stand the gates of Mulsantir. You've been eviscerated, paralyzed, assaulted by spirits, and insulted by a very large bear... how are you feeling?"

"Cranky. Generally offended at the state of the world and my treatment in it. Otherwise fine. ... You might want to change, though, I uh, don't. Imagine the Rashemi view Red Wizards of Thay fondly." Considering how many times Thay has tried to conquer its neighbors. Like Rashemen. The country that they are in. With its very famous Red Wizards of Thay. Who are, generally speaking, in charge of Thay.

Safiya nods. "Your resilience is admirable. And I have a disguise in my pack, not to worry."

She pulls a hooded green robe out from her bag and strips unselfconsciously to change into it. "Hopefully you have the energy for one more task before we find you some long-overdue rest. I've brought you here to speak with Lienna - she'll hopefully know what happened to you in the barrow, and why."

Oh dear that is a naked wizard, okay, looking away now, looking away!

"I'm fine. Honestly, I've barely used any spells. Being unconscious is like resting, anyway. It probably counts as eight hours of sleep."

"I'm sorry, I'd put up an illusory screen but illusion is one of my forbidden schools. I'm clothed again."

She is indeed clothed, and she's taken out a makeup compact to apply some concealer over her forehead tattoo. "I don't enjoy hiding who I am... but needs must. I wish Ipsit and Sefi had returned from scouting, I worry they may have gotten lost."

"It's fine," assures Ciaveth, whose blush speaks otherwise. Look, she might look all cosmopolitan and worldly, but actually she came from a little nowhere village in a swamp, so.

"Your... constructs?" she guesses, from context.

"Yes. They're homunculi - sentient creatures, created by my magics."

"Sort of like me," says the voice from inside her robe (which apparently made the transition). "Only not as smart. Or good-looking!"

"Much like Kaji, yes, but these were more primitive creations. It wouldn't surprise me at all if they got lost on the way. I sent them to find Lienna and let her know I was on my way, you see, but sometimes it seems like they can hardly navigate the halls of the Academy where they've spent their whole lives."

Ciaveth nods. "Well, I hope they're all right. Hello, Kaji, nice to meet you properly."

"Nice to meet See-vett too!" the voice says.

A small implike creature made of clay flies out from under Safiya's robe to examine Ciaveth more closely. "See-vett is pretty! Much more pretty than most of Mistress's Red Weezer friends."

Awww, he's cute. And she's not immune to being called pretty; she preens, just a little.

"Thank you. You can call me Cia if it's easier to say. That, uh, goes for both of you, I don't mind." Just not Knight-Captain, she is so sick of hearing that title. There is no reason for her to specifically mention that. Speaking of...

She takes off her stupid ugly yellow cape of Neverwinter, with its giant dumb ugly star, and she does precisely what she's wanted to do with it since she first got it. She casts Burning Hands and incinerates it.

"Hm," she hums, with an air of long withheld satisfaction. Then, back to business. "To the city, then? To interrogate Lienna?"

"...yes," Safiya says slowly. She beckons Kaji back into her robe and they walk along the road until they reach the gates proper. The gates stand open, and they enter the city without difficulty.

"The Veil Theater, where Lienna resides, is close to the gates, or so I'm told," Safiya says. "-ah, there it is. How convenient. Shall we go in immediately, or buy you a new cloak? Unless your spell was meant to indicate a distaste for the whole class of garment."

"Lienna first, then shopping. I think I'd want to buy more than just a new cloak, but it can wait." Her coin purse came along with her spell component pouches, fortunately for her. She had more money in her bag of holding, and even more back at Crossroads Keep, but this is enough to go shopping in a new city with.

"Our priorities are aligned, then."

The Veil Theater has a prominent stage, upon which stands a Red Wizard with a nasty sneer, and an audience, which contains half a dozen gnolls holding axes.

"Safiya!" the Red Wizard says. "The daughter of Nefris, here? I should have recognized those two homunculi as your handiwork..."

"What are you doing here?" she asks. "And what did you do to Ipsit and Sefi?"

"We caught them nosing around the theater. My minions toyed with them for a while, before dismembering them... your primitive little creations are no more."

Ciaveth winces, then scowls.

"Well, you're quite rude, aren't you. I don't suppose you're here to enjoy the local theater?"

"Unlikely," Safiya says coldly. "He never did have any class. No, this is one of the necromancy students at the Academy. A fledgling graverobber. When I left to find you, my mother was busy taking care of some upstarts at the academy. No doubt he's another pawn in that ridiculous coup."

"A shame I can't let you walk free, stranger," he says, ignoring Safiya's no doubt hurtful words. "But you're as likely to warn the Witches as to flee. As for you, Safiya - Araman would have us strangled if we let the headmistress's daughter slip away for a second time..."

He starts casting something, which Safiya promptly counterspells. "Moron," she says as the gnolls approach.

Yeah, the gnolls are her problem, aren't they. She knows the drill. Protect the squishy caster, blah blah.

Mass Curse of Impending Blades, she intones, at the gnolls, and then it is stabbing time so they do not bother the wizard while she swats an upstart student.

What's that? They want to hit her? Ahahahaha, funny, do you know how many people have tried to hit her? Many. Many have tried it. And a great many of them were better creatures than you, gnolls, and in greater numbers. To say she is ready for this is an understatement, she is a terrifying whirl of death and destruction and she doesn't even need her fancy broken magic sword to do it. Stabs for everyone that is dumb enough to come near her, which is going to be most of them, because she is coming for them.

Meanwhile the apprentice attempts to cast another spell. Instead of counterspelling him, this time Safiya Disintegrates him. As his dust floats downward into a neat pile, she turns a Cone of Cold on the gnolls.

Tralalala, stab stab stab stab dancing whirl of death and destruction, this is rather fun.

They run out of gnolls before any of them actually make it to the squishy caster. Ciaveth catches any stragglers and makes a point of herding most of the gnolls into easy area of effect zone.

"Well aren't we glad we didn't go shopping first," says Ciaveth, casually removing her rapier from the final gnoll's neck. She Prestidigitations it clean.

"Yes... that might have been unfortunate," Safiya admits. "Let's go backstage and see if we can find Lienna."

Lienna isn't backstage, but there's four captives being held by two gnolls in the dressing room. They're made short work of, and one captive who appears to be the director of the group, a dwarven woman, claps her hands. "A more timely entrance I have never seen in forty years of theater. I'm Magda, the director of this theater. Lienna told us you'd be coming, though she said nothing of slaying Red Wizards, nor of saving our lives! That Red Wizard wasn't alone... there's more of them, and they've followed Lienna into the back rooms."

"Okay. We'll go after them and see what we can do. Is there a key or something that we might need if they've locked the doors behind themselves or... something? And do you have a count of how many more of them?"

"I counted three of them... plus a couple of demons, or devils, or something like that."

"All for one old woman," Safiya says with a tone that indicates more disgust with the waste than the attempted murder of an old woman.

"Lienna is no simple theater matron," the dwarf says. "She has a secret - a shadow door that leads to some kind of reflection of the Veil. She fled through the shadow door, I'm sure of it. Still, such tricks won't stop the Red Wizards for long. Here, take this stone; as long as you've got it, the portal will open for you, and you'll be able to follow her."

"Great, thank you," she says, repressing a sigh. Hasn't she had enough shadow bullshit in her life. No? She gets to go to the Plane of Shadows now, too? Hooray. "Get yourselves somewhere safe, maybe inform some people in charge that Red Wizards attacked you and that we're handling them."

This is to cover for Safiya more than herself. Frankly, she expects she'll be fine when the authorities inevitably show up. Safiya, on the other hand, might be mistaken for one of the attackers, what with also being a Red Wizard of Thay. Best to get the witnesses that can attest that Safiya helped defend against the scary wizard invaders out early, to control the narrative.

To the back! Where probably there won't be anyone except a creepy looking portal!

The actors flee, thanking them as they go.

There is indeed a creepy-looking portal. When they enter the room containing the creepy-looking portal, Safiya's face twists in pain again. "Something's - not right - I told them not now! Why didn't I - aaah!"

Oh, dear.

"Safiya, what's wrong? You look like you're in pain."

"There's this- ringing in my ears, and this- burning- my skin's burning! No, please don't!"

"... Okay, I'm not doing anything." She sheathes her rapier and holds up her empty hands, far away from spell components. "It's going to be all right." Probably. It's probably going to be all right.

Safiya calms down gradually. "I- I thought you were- oh, dear. I suppose I won't get away with the barrow excuse again."

Ciaveth's lip quirks. She doesn't say, 'You didn't get away with it the first time,' but it's probably apparent from her expression.

"If you'd rather not talk about it and just move on and focus on Lienna's unwanted Red Wizard guests, I understand. Not like I have any proverbial legs to stand on, there. But if that happens in the middle of battle, I might not be able to protect you."

"Yes... yes, you make a good point. I suppose I should start from the beginning. As long as I can remember, I've heard... voices, that are not quite my own. Though this is only the second time the voices have been accompanied by pain, like the time in the barrow. I keep hoping to find some logic to the whispers, but they just come and go without reason. They sound human... familiar, almost. Quite often, the voices are more of a distant haze. But sometimes, whole words come across. During my apprenticeship, I read from the wrong scroll and, not knowing what I was doing, nearly incinerated myself. Before I could finish the chant, a voice in my head cried out and broke my concentration. It saved my life."

"Familiar, hm. Could be some kind of permanent monitoring spell put on you, but - that doesn't explain the empathic element at all, does it. Well, I have no idea what it is, but I don't think you're insane." Or, well, she doesn't think she's unmanageably insane, anyway. Ciaveth doesn't really think of herself as perfectly sane anymore, really, so that's nothing to flinch at. "Since they were so well timed and appropriate. But pain's only come twice, in all your life?"

"Yes. Those incidents were also far more... intense... than usual. Typically I'll hear the voices as if they were across the room, but this time I almost got lost in it... I thought, for a moment, that the voice was my own."

"That sounds frightening. I'm sorry. And these two incidents happened on the same day, hm. How are the voices now compared to what they're usually like? Louder, softer, about the same?"

"...I hadn't thought to check... but... usually there are one to three voices talking over each other... and now there's just one."

She pauses.

"It could be a coincidence," she says, sounding slightly ill.

Ciaveth winces. "It... could be, yes. I. I suppose that if it isn't, then. It could only happen once more. Cold comfort. I'm. I'm so sorry."

She shakes her head, feeling a little sick herself. "Well. Shall we go? I have two castings of greater invisibility prepared, once we find the other wizards we can give them a proper ambush."

Going back to business seems like it'd be good for both of them right now, frankly.

Safiya smooths over her expression. "Yes, let's. This portal will lead to a sort of... inverted parallel of our own reality. Not everything is as it seems in the Shadow Plane. Still, if our wits are about us, we should have nothing to fear."

Safiya is explaining this not because she doesn't think Ciaveth knows this already, but because it is soothing for nerdy wizards to state things that they know out loud to sound like they have control over things. She knows this. She's like, a quarter of a proper wizard. She gets it. It's a little annoying, but she'll let it slide, considering the circumstances. Honestly, it's not nearly as annoying as what she had to put up with before.

She nods. "Should be exciting, I've never been to the Plane of Shadow before. Despite my copious practice with outsiders that come from there."

"Hopefully we won't run into any such denizens on this occasion. Just my schoolmates and their fiendish minions."

"Hopefully."

First! Buffs! They both get Protection From Evil and Fox's Cunning, and then Ciaveth gets Cat's Grace, and then Safiya gets Extended Greater Invisibility and Ciaveth gets the non extended version of Greater Invisibility, because she is not the squishiest squishy available and so should not get the fanciest invisibility. And then, through the portal! Quickly before the invisibility wears off!

There's a single Red Wizard in here (well, besides Safiya) and an erinyes.

Safiya casts Split Disintegrate. The wizard collapses into ash; the devil warps out of existence.

"I've been quite lucky today," Safiya muses. "People do sometimes resist that, you know."

"Careful, call attention to it any harder and the universe will conspire to make sure you're going to fizzle the next one entirely," says Ciaveth, and then no time to waste c'mon through the next room before the invisibility wears off...

In this room, there's a table. It's got straps on it, to hold down someone's arms and legs, and it's soaked with still-tacky blood.

Perhaps it looks familiar?

NOPE SURE DOESN'T RING ANY BELLS THIS HALF ELF IS GOING TO KEEP WALKING BECAUSE GREATER INVISIBILITY ONLY LASTS SO LONG AND LINGERING ON TRAUMA CAN TAKE QUITE A BIT OF TIME, NEXT ROOM.

In this room, the shadowy equivalent of the Veil's main stage, there are two Red Wizards and two erinyes, standing around a burned skeleton. One of them flickers with magical protections.

"I thought I smelled incompetence," Safiya murmurs beside Ciaveth. "That's Khai Khmun, one of the most worthless piles of sputum ever to wear the red robes of Thay."

Ciaveth's invisibility wears off. The Red Wizard startles. "You- Araman warned me of you, monster! I want no trouble from you - run back through that portal, and I'll let you live."

Ciaveth huffs an annoyed breath. Of course, this is when the invisibility wears off. Well, Safiya has a bit longer, hopefully she can sneak to somewhere unexpected.

"Noted." She crosses her arms, and looks at the skeleton. "Lienna, I assume? You realize I had much more reason to talk to her than you did."

"Well, I was sent here by the great Araman, and with Lienna dead I've earned a promotion. It's a shame the old hag didn't put up much of a fight. She destroyed herself in a blaze of fire... must have known she couldn't best me. But when Safiya comes to investigate, I'll flay her. And I doubt she'll put up even as much of a fight as poor Lienna... or Nefris."

"Nefris?" She has a guess at who that could be, but she hopes she's wrong...

"Safiya's fool of a mother. Oh, she had no idea it was coming. She used every last cantrip she knew, but her loyal allies - her daughter, even - never arrived to save her."

Safiya reappears, behind the wizards and the erinyes. She looks horrified, and enraged.

Yeah, she's heard enough, thanks.

"Gloating is incredibly passé." She points a finger at this little prick and casts, Greater Spell Breach. Go get him, Safiya.

Safiya casts Extract Water Elemental. Khai screams in agony as every drop of water in his body flows out through his pores and forms into a vaguely humanoid shape, which begins pummeling his fellow student.

Khai's mummified corpse falls to the ground as the erinyes turn to attack Safiya.

That's Ciaveth's cue to go mess up that erinyes's day! She has haste, she can absolutely get between the erinyes and Safiya before the devil can make it to the squishy wizard.

Stabbing time!

One of the erinyes takes the bait (being stabbed) and attacks her; the other is still focused on the strange hostile wizard.

Safiya ignores her claws, which skitter off the barrier of her Premonition, and casts Baleful Polymorph. The erinyes turns into a squirrel, which Safiya then stomps on.

The erinyes gets so very stabbed for its trouble! She'd honestly be more worried about the other Red Wizard present, but Safiya sure solved that problem by turning the prick that reminded her vaguely of Bishop (may he rot in the dirt) into a water elemental. That squishy caster sure is having a bad time.

That particular squishy caster is having a very bad time, as a mass of sentient water is merrily beating him senseless and keeping him from casting any spells! Safiya tosses a couple of Magic Missiles at him from her staff, for variety.

Excellent. Ciaveth finishes off her erinyes, and then if there's anything left of that unfortunate subject of water based bludgeoning damage she can stab him too. But she suspects that she won't need to.

Yeah, he's gone by the time she's done with the erinyes.

"I always assumed Khai's ambition would get him killed," Safiya says distantly, "but I didn't think it would be by my hand. No matter... he will not be missed."

She nods. "No, I imagine not. He reminded me very much of someone I hated. And killed." She winces as she recalls what the little red prick was gloating about. "... I hope he was lying, but if he wasn't, I'm uh. Glad I helped get you some vengeance. And I'm sorry."

"I hope he was lying, too, but... he didn't have much reason to, did he? If he was telling the truth, I never should have left the academy when I did. My mother had the respect of the other wizards, but not their love. I'm running out of trustworthy people in my life. Just Kaji, and Master Djafi back at the academy... if he still lives."

"Do you need to depart and go back home? I'll understand."

"Thank you, but... I promised my mother I'd look after you. If those were her- her last orders, well, I'd like to honor them. Had the situation been reversed - had someone harmed me - her wrath would have been... merciless. I will grieve for my mother by helping you, and by finding Araman and crushing him."

Ciaveth nods. She understands that impulse very well.

"All right. Well, thank you." Her lip quirks, a bit. "That was very good use of the spell breach's opening, by the way, the water elemental was an excellent choice."

"Thank you. I'm going to guess you prepared that spell breach in the barrow in case I turned out to be, ah, a more traditional Red Wizard?" Her mouth quirks into a very slight smile.

Ciaveth smiles brightly back. "Of course! But this ended up seeming like a better time."

Safiya nods approvingly. "Reasonable of you."

She looks sadly at Lienna's ashes. "Lienna's association with my mother must have been very important... why else would Araman send his pawns all the way to Rashemen from Thay? Lienna was more than some common theater matron. At least Khai is dead, and Lienna's death avenged. I appreciate your help in killing the wretch."

"You're welcome. Though if I have an annoying git gloating at me, you absolutely owe me one for my help."

She's joking. ... A little. She's joking a little. Maybe Ammon Jerro will show up and she'll finally get to stab him in the throat like he deserves now that she doesn't need to work with him. A wizard would be very helpful for making that happen. It could happen. She should be prepared.

Safiya laughs. "I see how it is; you'd turn me against your enemies. Perhaps you've got a little touch of the Red Wizard in you, at that. Hopefully just a touch. Still, it's comforting."

"Good! I like to think I'm pragmatic." She looks at the charred remains of Lienna. "Do you suppose there's a cleric in this city able to resurrect her? I could afford a Raise Dead, if perhaps not a proper Resurrection. I have..." she resolutely tries not to think of the table that she definitely didn't see, "many, many questions for her."

"The question, I think, is 'would she come back?'" Safiya says. "Remember, she killed herself to avoid capture, and unless one of us cast the spell, which we can't, she'd get only the information that some Neutral witch or another wanted to resurrect her. Such a witch could easily be a patsy, and if they raised her under the right circumstances, it would be impossible to escape even by suicide. It's worth an attempt, but we should be ready for such an attempt to fail."

"... Eugh. Yes. You're right. And we'd probably still be out of a lot of the money to pay for the resurrection, because I bet the diamond merchants would not give full refunds. Even if we bring all of the diamonds back the day of." She makes a face. "Let's try just asking her staff first, that sounds much cheaper."

"Yes, let's. Shall we leave this grim place?"

"... In... in a bit, I'm. I'm going to check out the... table. In the other room."

The table that she thinks she maybe had chest surgery on. That table. The table she's been trying not to think about because it makes thinking very hard because she's angry and scared and furious about the associated helplessness and violation and and look there are many emotions, okay, she'd been putting them on hold for a reason.

Time to go check out the table. The trauma table. The table with blood that is probably hers.

Little care was taken in the table's construction, save to ensure that its surface was smooth and that it was long enough to accomodate a prone humanoid. It smells newly built, the wood felled from local Rashemi trees.

It continues to draw her eye, and there's an impulse to reach out and touch.

... This is definitely sized appropriately if it were, in theory, for her. The blood's splattered at the appropriate location, too. Right at where the chest of the subject was.

She ignores the growing sense of dread coiling into a knot in her stomach, and she gingerly reaches out to touch it. Was she fully unconscious, or was there some fuzzy, hard to remember haze of pain that reminds her of this place...? She doesn't know which is worse.

The tabletop is smooth. Polished. Something twists inside Ciaveth, where the shard once lay.

Her ears ring, filling with noise. A voice rises through the din: a woman's voice. Or is it two? They sound so much the same. Her vision blurs; dark shapes are standing over her, tightening the straps on her hands and feet, so tight that her wrists and ankles burn and bleed from struggling. The shapes clarify: two women, their faces nearly identical to each other's and to Safiya's, one garbed in red, the other in white. Other figures lurk behind, shadowy and more bestial in form. The cold fingers of the women brush Ciaveth's chest, run a cold blade across her skin. She cannot move. She cannot scream. She can only watch.

The twisting in her chest becomes a burning. An echo of blinding pain, growing and growing in its intensity. The women's arms are red to the elbows, their faces spattered in blood. One of the women, the one garbed in red, withdraws her hand from inside Ciaveth's chest. She holds a glittering shard.

The red woman lowers her eyes, gazes into Ciaveth's. For love, she whispers.

"Oh, fuck off with that bullshit," she hisses to ghosts, unable to stop herself from shaking.

Ciaveth removes her hand like the table burned her, and closes her eyes and focuses on breathing. Okay, so. So. Bright side. At least one of the people responsible for this... situation... is dead. That's good, probably. It saves her some time. It also loses her some satisfaction, but satisfaction is fleeting, death is more permanent. Of the two, she'll take death of the one responsible over the petty satisfaction of getting to kill her.

"But did I see what she did with the shard...?" she murmurs, jaw setting and reaching forward to touch the table again. C'mon, c'mon, she was at least a little bit awake for this, even if the Plane of Shadows remembers it better than she does, maybe it'll remind her of what she's forgotten.

The table is bloodstained wood, and nothing more.

"Damn it," she snarls with more heat than she intended, and she doesn't quite feel herself doing it, but it's her fingers on the edge of the table, flipping it and kicking it brutally into the nearby wall. It crashes with a much less satisfying crunch than she'd have liked. Still. Fuck that table. She'd set it on fire if she had another Burning Hands prepared, but she does not. Maybe she'll come back and finish the job, except she doesn't ever want to come back here again how dare they—

—She turns from the table and begins marching towards the exit before the tears start threatening to come. She does not particularly want to cry right now. Maybe later. For now, back to business. Lingering on loss and violation and agony and and and whatever else is going on in her head is not going to help her accomplish anything she wants to accomplish right now. She'll sort it out when she's run out of things to do for the day. When no one is there to see or hear her cry.

Safiya runs into the room. "Are you alright? I heard-"

She looks at Ciaveth's face and shuts up. "Let's get out of here," she says instead, following behind.

"I'm fine," she lies, and not even well. "Sorry for worrying you. We should probably not bother to resurrect Lienna immediately if we decide to, I'm. Going to need time to collect myself."

"Of course. We'll talk to her actors, first, and then we can seek out a local inn or flophouse where we can rest and recuperate. Or we can ask the actors after we've rested, perhaps that's a better idea."

"Let's find them, make sure they're okay and not going to flee the city in fear of more Red Wizard attacks, and ask basic questions to see if it'll turn up any more leads beside resurrecting the bitch. And then go sleep. I think I am quite done with today."

"I can understand the feeling."

They pass back through the shadow portal, out through the dressing rooms onto the stage, and out through the audience into the sunlight.

Three masked women teleport in formation in front of them.

She stares at them with the cold, uncaring eyes of a woman who is fully expecting them to either kick her out of the city or throw her into jail for unjustified and absurd reasons.

"We handled your Red Wizard problem," she says. "You're welcome."

The women look at her, unsmiling. "You crossed spells with our mortal enemies, foreigner, and drove them from our midst. For that, much may be forgiven... but not all."

"I've studied your laws, witches, and we've broken none. Why do you speak of forgiveness?" Safiya asks coldly.

"You know our laws, but I know you, child, even if these others do not," says the eldest woman. "You'll be better served by keeping silent."

"Look, Sheva," the right-hand witch says angrily, "the sharp-eared one! It's her who offends the land, and will draw the army to our gates!"

"Speak your name, foreigner," says Sheva, "and be warned that you address the Wychlaran."

Ciaveth turns her icy stare to the witch who called her ears sharp. Great. Racism. She missed that. A quip about them not being the only sharp thing she has dies in her chest, because just because she's had a long day doesn't mean she should be stupid. She smiles the same smile she aimed at Bishop before she gutted him like the traitorous dog he was. It is not a nice smile.

"I'm Ciaveth Farlong. Hello." She does the lovely little curtsy that's appropriate for Neverwinter's court, out of sheer petty spite. It is executed perfectly. She had plenty of reason to practice. "What a pleasure to make your acquaintance. To what do I owe this honor?"

"We are Witches - ambassadors to the hidden realm of spirits, and keepers of the sacred law. We bow our heads to the Triune Goddess, and to no one else. Magda told us of your... heroics... in the Veil, but the spirits tell a different story. They say that in one day's time, the bear king Okku will march an army of spirits to our gate, roaring for your blood. They say that you defiled his sacred den, and loosed a great evil upon the world. And the spirits do not lie. I can smell the wrongness on you, foreigner; it hangs upon you like a corpse-shroud."

She smiles pleasantly at the witches. It's... still not a nice smile.

"If you mean I was dragged into Okku's den while I was unconscious shortly after I had my chest forcibly cut open and woke up there, oh, yes. I know precisely what you're talking about. I am very sorry for accidentally bleeding all over Okku's nice den, I'm sure it makes perfect sense that he wants more of it to make up for it. Fortunately for you, I don't have any intention of staying here for very long. I came to question person responsible for my kidnapping and non-consensual surgery, Lienna," she points with a thumb towards the Theatre, "but the Red Wizards beat me to it, so I cannot, actually, ask her what the fuck. I'd like to ask her staff if they, perhaps, know anything about what the fuck. And then I will sleep in an inn, probably go throw lots of money at your market, and be on my way."

She is being purposefully unhelpful and petty and spiteful, but look, they started it. Who even wastes teleports on stupid shows of intimidation? If they wanted her dead they'd have disintegrated her from invisibility like a proper fucking wizard. Instead, they descended upon her like a pack of buzzards, expecting her to flinch. Surprise! She is not flinching.

"Then Magda spoke true?" the youngest witch says fearfully. "She said there were Thayans, that they appeared from the very shadows-"

"Calm, Katya; you are a Witch now, not a farmgirl," Sheva interrupts. "I do not doubt that you have suffered, stranger, but the bear god will not rest until one of you is dead. Until you have made your peace with him or defeated him proper, we will keep Magda and her crew safe - from Okku, and from you, if need be."

'If she had anything to fear from me she'd be dead,' Ciaveth doesn't say. It's not like she didn't have ample opportunity. Not to mention that it was Ciaveth who sent Magda to the witches! This is a paper thin pretense; they are using what little pathetic leverage they have against her to try to force her to do what they want. It's rude, and dumb, and most importantly it's really getting on her nerves.

"Oh, all right, you can supervise while I very politely ask her questions, if that would be okay?" she asks, perfectly innocently.

Sheva looks like she'd have a very nasty smile if she ever smiled. "We do not know what you are capable of," she says. "Perhaps you would rip the soul right out of her body as we watched, like a monster from the old tales."

The urge to burn this city to the ground is rising. Neverwinter first, then this fucking place.

"Oh, for the love of—! Look. I do not want to hurt Magda, as far as I can tell she had nothing to do with anything that happened to me. She just might know something about what did, so I'd like to ask now before she forgets any critical information. If I wanted to hurt her, I would have done it shortly after rescuing her, but instead I sent her to you, because I wanted to make sure she and the others were safe.

"I do not want to draw Okku the rainbow bear god to your city and cause a slaughter. If you want to toss a woman out to be eaten by an angry bear god to save your wretched cowardly skins, fine. I'll make sure he doesn't hurt anyone undeserving besides me, but don't you dare stand there and pretend you're being haughty and wise and reasonable. You are cowards who could not protect your citizens from murder. You show up after the real fighting has passed with your paper-thin scare tactics and expect me to flinch and bow my head and be cowed and play along with your farce. Fuck off with your sanctimonious narcissistic games, I am not playing."

"How dare-" the racist witch begins.

"It is good that we understand each other," Sheva says over her colleague, with a wicked smile. "You may go to the prison at the northeast of town, and tell the inmates that anyone who fights alongside you against the bear king will receive a full pardon. But before that, come; let us speak with Magda."

"Great, thank you," sighs Ciaveth, anger dissipating in the face of someone actually being reasonable and helping her. Amazing. She was beginning to think it was impossible. "That's very helpful, and I appreciate it very much."

Sheva dismisses her companions with a wave of her hand; they walk up the hill, casting confused glances back at Ciaveth and Sheva occasionally.

"You may come as well, Red Wizard," Sheva murmurs, walking towards the residential district.

"How did you know?" Safiya asks, following.

Sheva sighs. "You have make-up on your forehead, you're wearing a hooded cloak, and you have no hair. Please do not insult my intelligence."

"...how didn't those other two notice, if it's so obvious?"

"I didn't say don't insult their intelligence."

.... Ciaveth can't help it. She snorts, just a little. She follows the witch she admittedly kind of respects now. Okay, Mulsantir, you can escape from her list of theoretical cities that need to be burned down, one semi-cool old witch lady is all that stands between you and destruction. You'd better hope that racist one doesn't end up in charge.

"We can see about finding you some kind of wig, maybe. Or just go looking for a spell for it when we go shopping, that'd be more versatile."

Safiya sighs heavily. "I hate wigs, they itch terribly on bare skin. There's a reason I didn't pack one. I'd rather a disguise spell... but, once again, illusion is one of my prohibited schools, for reasons that seemed to make perfect sense at the time."

Sheva's eyebrows can't be seen behind her mask, but they're raised. "No witch would ever forego illusion. A good illusion is all things: defense, offense, utility... how could you do without?"

"I don't enjoy deception," Safiya sniffs.

"I'll try to find something suitable for my spellbook, then. I don't have any prohibited schools."

"Perhaps we can find a Hat of Disguise," Safiya suggests. "I don't hate hats."

Sheva leads them into a nearby home, unlocking the door. Inside are Magda and her actors. The actors are talking loudly; Magda shouts over them, "Pipe down, you rogues, and give some thanks to the women who saved our lives!"

"Alas, our thanks are all we have to give, for a cruel-hearted dwarf hoards our meager profits," calls one of the actors.

"Aye! And squanders our earnings on love potions, to steal the heart of Sweet Wallace!"

Magda sighs. "Honestly, milady, it's like chasing a pack of dockside waifs with a broomstick. And that's when we're not trying to put on a play. Mistress Whitefeather, what brings you to our little hideaway?"

"Ciaveth, here, had some questions for you," Sheva says.

Magda turns to Ciaveth. "Well, ask away."

"Ah, first... The Red Wizards made it to Lienna before we did. I'm sorry." Mostly because the bitch had some serious questions to answer, but also just in the general sense of being annoyed that she couldn't save someone. Still, Ciaveth has the class to give these people that probably knew her as a friend some space to mourn. "She... didn't suffer for very long, deciding to take her own life rather than surrender."

Magda nods sadly. "It's hard, but I thank you for trying to save her."

Ciaveth nods, because saying 'You're welcome,' or something seems disingenuous. She's not, actually, sorry that Lienna's dead, precisely. She's sorry that she didn't get to question her. Or maybe throttle her herself.

"I actually came to the Veil to ask her some questions about... some things she was involved in," she continues, trying delicately not to brutally trample all over their memory of their dead friend immediately. Yes, question about some things she was involved in. Like kidnapping her, cutting open her chest, and stealing a shard of a sword. Like dumping her in a prison at the bottom of a barrow that held something that is probably inside Ciaveth right now. Like that. "... Did she do anything strange in the past, ah, week or so? Meet with anyone, hang out for extended periods of time in her secret room? Something?"

"Thought you might say something like that," Magda says heavily. "There's not a one of us who didn't love that woman, but she'd been acting mighty strange of late, 'tis true."

"And the blood, Magda," one of the actors says luridly, "those ghastly droplets of red upon her white robe!"

"I hadn't forgotten the blood, Wallace. I was building up to it." Magda breathes in, then out. "No more than a few days before you saved our hides, milady, Lienna comes bursting out from that shadow-door of hers, all covered in blood."

"Covered in blood, aye, and not a drop of it hers!" says another actor.

Magda hisses him silent. "And before that, I saw the other woman hanging about... the red-robed lady, bald as a squalling babe. The both of them were up to some sort of mischief - that's all the red lady was good for, if you ask me - probably behind the doors of that secret room..."

The half-elf carefully folds her hands together to keep her fists from clenching. Covered in her blood, and not even bothering to clean any of it up. The bitch. She carefully exhales a breath through her teeth. She does not want to explain whose blood it was and why she's so personally offended, and she wants the actors' pity even less. There will be no lingering on Ciaveth's victimhood; she will simply just not tell them.

"Do you know anything else about the red-robed lady? Did Lienna meet with her regularly?"

"I know only what my eyes have seen. Her face was like Lienna's, so much alike that I thought them sisters. And her head was all covered with runes."

"I wonder if she was from my Academy," Safiya muses. "This might explain how Lienna was known to my mother."

Magda looks at Safiya as if seeing her for the first time. "Aye, so it might, for you look as much like both of them as they did each other. A little prettier, a little smoother of the skin, but I'd believe that you were Lienna's daughter... or that red woman's." Safiya looks poleaxed. Magda continues, "I saw her but twice - no, make it thrice. The first time was years ago... I awoke to voices in Lienna's bedroom, so I peered inside, thinking it might be robbers again. But instead, who do I see but a red-robed lady, chatting away with Lienna. I'm certain they knew I was watching... Scared me silly, you understand. Red robes mean naught but trouble. But Lienna trusted her, so I let the matter pass. I saw her the second time, maybe a few months ago, before the two of them disappeared for a good long while. And the third time was just before the wizards came. I saw the red lady near the portal, when Lienna came bursting out of her room, all covered in... whoever's blood that was." She looks at Ciaveth meaningfully.

"Mm," hums Ciaveth, ignoring the meaningful look. Yeah, congratulations, you have figured out the big mystery, Magda, you get a cookie. The cookie is 'Ciaveth is not acknowledging her trauma right now because she's working, but at least you understand why she's acting weird.' Enjoy.

"Would you mind if I were to go through her effects? To look for other secret rooms, or find keys to locked doors in the Plane of Shadow, or the like? I promise to be respectful and not to pick through her things like a vulture. It's just rather important that I get to the bottom of... all of this."

"Of course," Magda says, going through her pockets. "All you'll need is the key to her private chamber, and I've got it right here. When the wizards came, Lienna pressed it into my hands and bade me keep it safe. I'd half a mind to swallow the damned thing and make those Thayans go picking through my guts for it... but I've no doubt they would have. Here's the key, anyroad, but I'll not vouch for your safety if you're bent on going inside. I've never so much as peeked beneath the door."

"Thank you very much," says Ciaveth sincerely, taking the key. "You've been very helpful. Again, I'm... very sorry for your loss." There, that was honest, she is not sorry that Lienna is dead, but she is sorry that those who cared about her have lost her.

Magda nods. "We'll carry on. Is there anything else you need from us? Mistress Whitefeather wanted to keep us here a spell, but once we're back at the Veil you're free to rest there as long as you like. You've brought us naught but good fortune, and I'd tip any of these rascals out of their beds for your sake."

"No, that's all right, but thank you," she does not want your pity or your charity, and also doesn't super want to sleep in a theater with strange actors instead of a nice inn room with a door that locks, thank you, "I just might need to visit a couple of times to look over things, that's really all I want."

"Well, you're always welcome at the Veil whatever your purpose," Magda says. "And if you should wish to see one of our performances, you'll get in for free. Consider it payment for saving our lives, if you must."

"That'd be fine, thank you," says Ciaveth. Okay, free stuff for being heroic is fine, but she's still not sleeping here.

"This has been very enlightening," Sheva Whitefeather comments. "But I'm sure we all have other business to attend to."

Safiya nods, still slightly dazed. "Yes... yes, I believe we do. Shall we go, Ciaveth?"

"I imagine so," says Ciaveth, dryly to Sheva.

"Yes, I think that's everything for now. Thank you again." And then they can go. Preferably to find an inn. She does not want to have to do things for a little while. There have been enough things.

Safiya mutters to herself as they walk towards the inn that Sheva recommended, the Sloop. "For my mother to come all the way from Thay to visit this woman... on a regular basis? Nefris could hardly ever leave the Academy without some ambitious bastard crawling out and trying to depose her, so why would she visit in person multiple times instead of just going once and handing her a Stone of Sending? It boggles the mind. And why did that woman say Lienna looked like her? My mother never spoke of any family..."

Ciaveth gives Safiya her space. She listens, but she doesn't have any commentary to add. There's not much to be said, really. Accordingly, Ciaveth is very quiet on the way to the inn. They can get two rooms, because Ciaveth would like some privacy, and because while she finds Safiya surprisingly reasonable and likable, they're not up to room sharing levels of trust.

And then, when she has privacy and a locked door between her and the rest of the world, she carefully sits on the edge of her bed, buries her head in her hands, and lets herself cry. Frankly, she's a stranger in a strange land, and she's been holding back the urge to curl up and cry about how she thought she was done with the stupid annoying mystery solving quests. Not to mention... all of the other stuff, of which there's plenty. Apparently the rainbow bear god is going to show up with an army tomorrow? She doesn't have an army anymore, she left hers back in Neverwinter at Crossroad Keep, and it's not like she can go and fetch them. Probably they wouldn't even listen to her anymore, now that the thing she'd had them for is gone. Maybe she could just run, but she has the sneaking suspicion that running will not solve her core problem, so frankly she'd like to get the investigating what the fuck out of the way so she can be done. Maybe. Eventually. She wants so badly to be done.

She is scared, and alone, and angry, and tired, and tired of being angry. There's the niggling feeling that she's not alone, that she can't relax, can't let her guard down because something will crawl out from inside her and swallow her whole. Ciaveth is an eldritch knight, a brilliant wizard and a talented duelist both, stubborn and driven and capable of defeating at least one impossible, unkillable foe, and. And there was nothing she could do to stop any of this. She wasn't strong enough, she didn't have enough foresight, her allies sucked at defending her while she was vulnerable almost as much as they sucked at emotional management, it just. Happened anyway. Because some assholes were more concerned about the lump of magic silver in her chest than the feelings of the woman they were hurting to get whatever it was they wanted. They didn't care if they threw a good, innocent woman who has spent most of her energy for the past year trying to save as many lives as possible to some horrific thing in a barrow, and the bear god that wants to kill her for it. Whatever it is that she used to kill that—that—poor spirit wolf that didn't deserve oblivion, but got it because Ciaveth didn't know that there was a monster inside her she needed to stop.

It is quite a while, before she stops crying and sleeps. It is not a particularly restful sleep.

But in the morning she's.... better. Somewhat. She's somewhat better. The sleep helped, as did the space and the crying. Back to problem solving.

Problem solving for today is starting with shopping. There's a market, here, right? And would Safiya like to come?

Safiya would love to come! She has a magic hat to purchase.

"The disadvantage to a Hat of Disguise, of course," she says as they shop, "is that if someone sees through the illusion then they have reason to be suspicious. But if I just use it for minor features - hiding the unnatural sheen of the make-up on my forehead, giving myself hair - they'll think I'm merely indulging in," her voice drips with sarcasm, "feminine vanity. "

Ciaveth snorts, a little. "The horror. Personally I need new armor... or, hm." She considers. "... Maybe just enchanted clothes, the armor might be slowing me down, now. And also a new cloak."

Safiya finds a Hat of Disguise in the form of a simple skullcap and purchases it, putting it in her pocket for later. "If you think the armor's slowing you down, it probably is. As far as enchanted clothes go, we should be able to get you something that can stop a blade - you dodge very well, but it never hurts to be prepared. And for the cloak... resistance, maybe fortification if it's in the budget?"

"Let's see how much is left available in my budget after I find clothes." Her lip twitches. "Pity that my bag of holding was taken with my sword, I'd had a spare cloak in there. Among other things. Like potions, which we should also get."

"Yes, I imagine we should. I've got two hundred platinum pieces left after buying that hat; feel free to use that in addition to your own funds. It's all going to the same ends."

"Aww! Thank you. I'll see what I can do with just my own money, though."

Finding something that fits Ciaveth's preferences of 'practical, comfortable, pretty, and actually useful' is rather tricky. It takes some searching, some amount of wheedling to see all of a merchant's stock, careful analysis of where the heart of the enchantment lies, and eventually a trip to a skilled tailor to get the skirt part of a robe removed without damaging the enchantment located on the torso. Ciaveth pays the tailor a bit extra for speed, because Okku's spirit army does not wait for fashion, and fortunately 'remove the skirt please,' is not actually very difficult for a tailor to do in a rush job. The result is worth the trouble, though, and it's pretty and comfortable and reasonably protective, and allows much more movement for dodging around enemies like a lunatic. While the robes are being tailored, Ciaveth purchases a modest cloak of protection, uses most of the rest of her money on potions and a couple of scrolls to transcribe to her spellbook. She leaves Safiya's portion of the spending money alone out of a mix of principle, respect, and the knowledge that they might want to save money for if they decide to try to get Lienna raised.

The tailor is complete by the time she digs up all of this, and she happily switches to the much more comfortable clothes. She'll keep the armor for now, in case she turns out to be wrong about being better off without it, but once she's sure she's past it, it's getting sold. Ciaveth also takes the time to obnoxiously braid her hair back into an out of the way ponytail to reveal her delicately pointy ears as much as possible, because one of the local witches was racist and she kind of wants to tweak the noses of anyone of similar mind. Hey, she is not going to be able to pretend to be a native by any stretch of the imagination, so she might as well look interestingly foreign. .... Also pretty, she decides on a whim that she'd also like to look pretty. She can spend some small sum of money on 'indulging in feminine vanity' for makeup. Look, she has some kind of monster thing inside her, probably, she feels like being as aggressively herself as she can be is the way to go. And if she is being maximally herself, she is going to be gorgeous.

Her somewhat self indulgent set of tasks complete, she decides (after having lunch) that it's probably wise to go recruiting at the local prison, since the Wychleran were so kind as to let her do so. First order of business: find the prison. She begins her search of the city, smiling prettily at the many suspicious and dirty looks her obnoxious foreign half-elfness is earning her.

Among these lookers is a pair of teenagers, looking possibly even more foreign than her (on account of their wings), arguing quietly while sneaking (not suspicious but hopeful) looks at her. Eventually the boy of the pair, wearing a helmet with an impressive rack of stag's antlers attached to it, approaches them, followed by the girl.

"Hello. I am Efrem the Stag, and this is my sister, Susah the Crow. We couldn't help but overhear your... discussion with the Wychlaran yesterday," he says. "An army of angry spirits approaches the gates of Mulsantir. You will likely require help against such a host."

"My bow and my brother's sword will aid you," says his apparent sister, "should you agree to first help us find our lost sister, Kaelyn the Dove."

Huh. That sounds very useful, even if she's.... perhaps a little bit uncomfortable about strong-arming teenagers into battle.

"All right, I can try. Do you need someone to search with you, or is there some other reason you need help?"

"Kaelyn came here seeking the abandoned stronghold of Myrkul, the Death God's Vault, which is in Shadow Mulsantir," Efrem explains. "To enter Myrkul's sanctum would be a violation of our faith to Kelemvor, and so we cannot seek her out ourselves."

"Oh, I see. And Kaelyn's not a member of your faith, so she could go inside freely. All right, I'll look for her if I get the chance. But it'll have to wait for nightfall before I can, if she's in the Plane of Shadow, and depending on how close Okku's army is by then, it might end up being wiser for me to start the battle early before he can gather more spirits. You might be wise to also try to find someone else that can help find her, but I understand if I'm..." she glances at the nearby people that have been giving her dirty and suspicious looks, "probably your best hope. I'll do what I can, all right?"

Susah nods, awkwardly sidestepping the "Kaelyn having abandoned her faith" issue. "Thank you. That is all we can truly ask."

"We will be very grateful to once more lay eyes upon our beloved sister," Efrem adds, "and convince her to return to the fold."

Susah elbows him.

"Ow!" he says.

"Don't burden the lady with family business," Susah hisses.

Ciaveth suspects that Kaelyn might have had reasons to go to a specific place her siblings couldn't follow, but doesn't observe this out loud.

"Good fortune to you in your search," she says, because she doesn't actually know the thing to say to followers of Kelemvor, and nobody really dislikes extra help from Tymora.

The siblings are not offended, and thank her again before heading off to investigate the sights of Mulsantir.

"Interesting... did you notice the symbols on their armor?" Safiya asks. "Those weren't mere Kelemvor-worshippers, they were bona fide Doomguides. And half-celestials, too, if I'm not mistaken. They could be powerful allies."

"They could be, and I'll welcome their help if we can manage it, but... I'm not so sure their sister would want to return willingly, if we did find her. What with how she went to a place they specifically can't follow her because of their faith."

"Admittedly, that is potentially a confounding factor, but we should at least ask her. She may have had a good reason... besides the desire to avoid her family and their religious pestering."

"Yeah, I'm just saying I'm not willing to drag a woman kicking and screaming back through all of Shadow Mulsantir and then ordinary Mulsantir just to get their help. Not that I'm not going to investigate. Of course I'm going to investigate, I'm an adventurer, investigating is basically my job, and there's going to be an army out to kill me soon!"

"I think we're on the same page about all of that," Safiya says. "Besides, I'll admit to a certain amount of curiosity regarding this Death God's Vault. If we must be in Mulsantir, we may as well see the sights, no?"

"And systematically raid the less beloved sights for shiny things to sell so we can buy more appropriate shiny things for ourselves," agrees Ciaveth, sagely. "... And also making it safe for people and stuff. Ahem."

"Definitely on the same page," Safiya nods.

Ciaveth grins. "Now! Off to prison, that'll likely be the easiest place to recruit, considering."

The prison's pretty easy to locate; it's one of the only buildings in the city with its doors open, and there's a gibbet out front.

"What a charming piece of local flavor."

"Eh, it's more honest than Neverwinter, at least," shrugs Ciaveth. "There, you can go through a whole trial with evidence and arguments and everything, and then at the end someone can go 'Oh by the way, I declare Trial By Combat,' and the whole evidence thing is rendered null and void and you get to prove your innocence by showing how good you are at killing people. Honestly, this is much more palatable."

Is she bitter about this aspect of Neverwinter's justice system? Yes. Yes, she is bitter, and offended, and it personally burned her the once and she managed to personally prove her innocence in both the Trial and the Trial By Combat, but it was still incredibly wrong that she had to do the latter after having done the former at all.

"How... completely arbitrary," Safiya says. "Trial by combat? Is this because of their unnatural preoccupation with Tyr?"

"I have," she says seriously, "no idea. But it was very offensive. Along with how if you were not sworn to serve Neverwinter and therefore of Neverwinter's high class, they would not actually lift a finger to defend you from false enemy charges and would instead just ship you off to a foreign city to have a mock trial and summary execution. Until you swear an oath of fealty to Lord Nasher, the king-who-doesn't-call-himself-a-king of Neverwinter. Then you get to actually have a trial where they decide if you're innocent or not."

Is she bitter about this part of Neverwinter's justice system? Yes, very. Is it because it personally burned her? Yes, absolutely. She is very bitter and she has excellent reason to be.

"Or at least a trial where they decide provisionally if you're innocent," Safiya says. "That sounds utterly deranged. At least in Thay, we're sensibly corrupt. Bribes and spurious charges, not invalidating a trial because the defendant can't stab someone effectively or extraditing someone to our enemies because they're not nobility."

"See, that's still offensive, but that's less infuriating and at least more navigable. I navigated through Neverwinter's politics, but I really couldn't get through it without wondering if the fallen paladin Aribeth de Tylmarande didn't have the right idea all along. With how she tried to burn the city down." She coughs. "Anyway. Onwards to prison?"

"Onwards. To the prison."

Inside the prison, at the front desk, is another masked witch, this one even older than Sheva Whitefeather. "As you have disturbed the spirits," she mutters, "you now disturb me. For what reason are you here, foreigner?"

"Sheva Whitefeather said I could find help here against the Spirit Army. Was I mistaken?"

"You certainly are if you seek aid from these villains. But if you wish to persist in this foolishness, you may speak with the prisoners. Be warned: of the three in this cage, two you need not fear, but around the third... guard your thoughts."

"... From what, precisely? Telepathy, psionics? Do you have a mindflayer in here?"

"He's no mindflayer, our third prisoner," the witch says sourly. "But he has ways of seeing things he shouldn't."

Safiya's already halfway across the room, examining the runes of warding around the enclosed room where the third prisoner is kept. "Abjuration... obviously. But not of the obvious sort. This is closer to a Dimensional Anchor than Mind Blank. And... hmm." She doesn't elaborate in front of the witch.

Well now Ciaveth's curious, so she trails after Safiya to peer at the runes. .... Oh. Oh. These are. These are not good. Not in the sense that they speak of a particularly dangerous prisoner, but in the sense that they're actually kind of just bad at doing... whatever they're trying to do. They tried to change the properties of Mind Blank to extend to travelling through... the astral plane...? some place of dreams, maybe? but honestly this is just a mess and wouldn't do much at all...

... except, hm, this isn't the whole thing, some of it's inside the room, so if they open this door and peer inside...

There is a surprisingly lovely man with odd coloration, napping on a bed of furs in the middle of the circle, looking to all the world like he's quite happy to be there. At the sound of the door opening, he gives a somewhat grumpy huff and opens an eye to look at his visitors.

"Huh," says Ciaveth, who is too busy looking at the runes to pay attention to the person inside. "That is very interesting."

"Isn't it?" Safiya asks.

Then she looks up. "Oh."

"More would-be admirers, here to throw themselves at my feet?" sighs the pretty blue man, dramatically. "Here I was, settling into a relaxing dream, and now you've gone and spoiled it."

".... Admirers?" repeats Ciaveth, eyebrows raising archly. "If anything, we're admiring the runes."

"Oh, the scrawlings in chalk that decorate my prison? I hadn't noticed, did a child come by and scribble them there?"

Ciaveth makes a polite expression that says, 'If one did, it would explain the skill,' but doesn't say that out loud, especially not with the witch who probably scribed them right there within earshot. Instead she goes with, "What's particularly interesting is that they were modified after they were scribed. From the inside."

"Hmm," says the man, raising his eyebrows in mock-surprise. "A curious mystery indeed. Who do you suspect of altering them? Not me, I hope. I have an alibi."

He stretches dramatically (and artfully) on his makeshift bed.

"I really couldn't say," she says, giving him a look that says she is not buying any of that, "but whoever they were, I would sure be delighted to meet them, because they seem brilliant at runes and wards, and clever and observant besides, to spot that opening in this, uh." She looks at the mess of runes. ".... this."

The man hums again, this time with smug self satisfaction. "Indeed, and a clever conversationalist besides, I imagine many must jealously vie for the company of one so brilliant."

Safiya raises one eyebrow. "Must they? We seem to have beaten the crowd to your door."

"This would not be the first time I have had to place myself behind bars to keep admirers at bay," he says, sagely. "If you're here for that, I'm afraid the line's outside, and you'll have to wait in it like all the rest."

"My heart. It breaks." Ciaveth clasps a hand to her chest. "I suppose we'll just have to take our offer of a chance of potential freedom and go, then..."

.... The man squints at the both of them, and sits up, slightly.

"Offer of freedom? None but the Wychlaran could offer such a thing. I do hope your offer comes with their blessing, else your stay here might be long indeed. In one of the empty cells."

"Oh, it does." She raises her voice, to reach the other prisoners in their nearby cells, "Any convict that comes with us to stand with us against the army of spirits led by Okku will be granted a full pardon, by the word of Sheva Whitefeather."

"Hah!" says one of the prisoners. "The witches can only kill me."

The other one says "I don't take deals that obviously loaded against me, sorry."

"It is strange indeed for the insular witches to offer such aid to a pair of foreigners, pretty though they both might be," he agrees, amused. "It implies quite the hopeless battle, that they should not worry about the escape of their convicts, after."

Ciaveth hisses a breath through her teeth, annoyed. Of course native Rashemi would balk at fighting spirits, they practically worship the things; earning a spirit's ire is often a fast route to death or worse. Or so they believe, anyway.

"It is not hopeless," she clarifies, annoyed. "And I do not intend to throw your lives away at an army of angry spirits, and will protect you with mine, first. I don't intend to make an enemy of the spirits, either, ideally I'd like to talk to Okku. ... Admittedly that will probably involve a lot of stabbing before he's willing to see my point of view, but."

"It would take quite a lot of either violence or diplomacy to quell the hornet's nest of beasts marching to our fair city. They're screaming for blood so loudly I can hear it in my dreams. What did you take from the bear king's den, brave or foolish one, for them to hunt you so?"

"Nothing but my life after waking up in there, but apparently that's enough for that damn rainbow bear."

Safiya looks troubled. "Well... we didn't take anything, but I did break his rather nice rune circle... and there was that, ah, spirit. That you-"

"Okay, legitimate grievances with me he has, but he was after my blood from the start. His exact words were 'I'll not sleep while you yet live,' recall. Maybe he'll show up with a list of legitimate grievances, in which case I will peacefully answer for them, but as far as I can tell, his issue seemed to be what I am and where I woke up, instead of who I am or what I've done."

"And just what are you?"

"A very annoyed victim of kidnapping, assault, theft, and probably some other things besides when I was unconscious! Anything besides that I haven't had time to figure out because there is a bear god out to kill me."

"Few would expect reason from the capricious and vindictive spirits of the Rashemi wilds," points out the man in the mess of runes. "And what will you do if there is no reason to be found, hm? If all you lead anyone to is a hopeless battle against an ancient bear god and his garishly-colored furry rage? Why would one such as I follow you to such folly?"

"In order, stab him until he sees reason, let him have me before his unjustified rage is turned against anyone else, and." she pauses, and looks at him. She reviews the contents of her conversation with this person. He hasn't actually said no, has he, or even implied that he's not interested. He's mostly just prodded her to watch her react, which implies...

"... Aren't you bored?"

"Do I seem like I dislike my surroundings? I assure you, I am quite comfortable here."

"That wasn't what I asked. I asked if you were bored."

"If I were, what do you care? Do you have plans to keep me entertained?"

Safiya counts on her fingers. "We've fought a bear god in his own den, battled necromancers, and we're headed for the Death God's Vault to rescue a half-celestial former Doomguide if we've got time before the bear god comes back... is any of that entertaining?"

"Travelling the land with two lovely and talented young women, battling bear gods and necromancers and raiding the vaults of gods?" His mouth twitches. "Very well, you have a willing soldier at your side. Shall we be off?"

"Excellent. Is anyone else at all won over by that agenda?"

"You are madwomen and the bear god will kill you," says the first prisoner from before.

"I'm not even going to be executed," says the second, "and following you sounds like certain death, so... no."

"Great, then we can go," says Ciaveth brightly, like she hadn't even heard the contents of their refusal. She definitely did, but she does not care. Hooray, new party member! New party member that's kind of a narcissistic creep, but whatever, she's worked with more infuriating people!

Their shiny new party member looks at the runes ostensibly holding him and his spirit in the room. Then he casually slides a foot forward to smudge something, and hops over the whole mess with an air of self-satisfaction. The message is clear; it was not at any point holding him at all.

"Ah, at last, my eyes fall upon your beauty, my matron-of-the-cell!" he says to the witch jailer, before anyone else gets the chance to get a word in ahead of him. "I know your heart breaks at our parting, but alas, I cannot spend all my time salvaging the scrawlings of your bored child. Do let them know that if they don't improve soon, they'll be fit for naught but, hm." He taps his chin. "Sleeping away their shifts as a lackluster warden, I suppose."

The witch's mouth twists. "These old hands may not have the dexterity for runes, but they still trace the pattern of a curse well enough. Get out of my jail before I demonstrate."

"Oh, spare me your wrath, my gentle constitution could not handle the strain of a curse of a minor rash, or perhaps—"

"Nope," interrupts Ciaveth, with a finger jab into the back of his head. "None of that. Make friends on your own time, buddy. If you manage to upset the witches before we meet Okku, we will actually just leave you to their mercies. Out."

The newly ex-convict snorts, gives off an amused, "Fiiine. Spoilsport," but out the door he goes.

"Thank you very much for tolerating us, have a lovely day," she says to the witch, and then out they can go.

"A sarcastic dream-walker, a Red Wizard, and a foreigner cursed by the spirits... I don't think we'll have any trouble making friends," Safiya says when they exit the prison. "Should we collect the wayward angel now, and complete the set?"

"That still needs to wait for nightfall. And if we do find her there's no guarantee she'll join our merry band."

"A Red Wizard. My, we are very eclectic, aren't we. What company our strange foreigner keeps."

"You should have seen my last bunch. Or actually, never do, if a dwarf that wants to punch everything shows up here, you don't know me."

"Yes, what a drastically different state of affairs that would be from the current status quo."

"Oh. I'm Ciaveth Farlong. Nice to, uh, meet and get you out of prison? So far."

"Safiya. So far, I agree."

"Gannayev-of-Dreams," he says, bowing. "A pleasure to make your acquaintances as well." Amused head-tilt. "So far," he adds, teasing.

"Great! Do you need to go shopping for things, and do you have a supply of potions for emergencies?"

"That depends very much on how much spending money is freely available." He smiles and tilts his head. "I would not be up against your bear god with nothing but my wits, if that's what you mean. And while I do have a trove of useful items that I conveniently managed to stash before submitting myself to this city's hospitality, I would not turn down the offer of potions..."

Ciaveth forks over a spare healing potion. One.

Gann seems surprised. "... No extraction of promises that I won't take your charity and run off to the wilderness? No inventory of my supplies before diminishing your own? My, I'm touched."

"Run off into the wilderness without helping me with my bear god problem, and I will hunt you down, retrieve my potion by force, drag you back to prison by the scruff of your neck for reneging on our deal, and possibly poke you full of holes somewhere in the interim, depending on how much you annoy me during all of that," says Ciaveth, cheerfully. "But aside from that, no, I don't play power games with my party. If I don't trust you, I will let you know, and we will talk about it like adults instead of scheming like children, or we will part ways."

"Hm. Was that meant to deter? Many wouldn't find the prospect of being chased through the wilderness by a beautiful woman unappealing..."

Eyeroll.

"So! We should probably ask the witches about specifics on when the bear god's going to arrive, to see if we have time to go on a trip to the Plane of Shadow or not."

"We do. The bear god and his entourage should arrive tomorrow. I'd say, hmmmmm." He closes his eyes and hums to himself. "Mid-afternoon. Or so. He will not attack the city immediately, or even very quickly, but the longer we delay from there, the bigger his army shall be. Keep old father bear waiting at your own peril."

“...how do you know all that?” Safiya asks. “Especially with such precision.”

"His Fluffy Garish Colorfulness is marching his entourage at a set pace, and making quite the racket. The army of spirits will not tire, but neither are they likely to change their tempo. Attracting as much attention as possible is part of the point of the march. As to why he wouldn't attack immediately," Gann shrugs. "If I were a god of bears, and I had a spirit army, and I were in a country that worships and fears spirits, I expect waiting outside the city would get the witches to throw out my quarry and save me the trouble of laying siege."

"... How familiar are you with spirits, exactly?"

"How familiar is a merchant with his customers? A bard with his adoring crowd? Did you think I meant to fight an army of spirits armed with merely the ability to smudge chalk?"

"I kinda can't afford to be picky, if chalk was all you had I'd put you in the back and tell you to throw some."

Gann snorts. "An amusing visual, but no."

"Well, if you've got rapport with the spirits, that's even better. Perhaps once we've beaten the bear god into submission you can negotiate a truce."

"... Perhaps. But I suspect Old Father Bear will respect those who speak for themselves more than not. I think I'd make a better advisor than intermediary."

"What makes you think so?"

"He is a bear," points out Gann. "I don't know how many bears you've dealt with, but in my experience, they are not fond of treaties, wordplay, nuance, or anything even vaguely resembling subtlety. Speaking through someone else's voice would seem... craven. Or perhaps false."

"Perhaps we should offend a weasel god next time," Safiya muses. "-I know it's better to offend no gods at all, but given our track record I'm just trying to plan ahead."

"I really don't think my miraculous ability to offend people I've never met before can be aimed that well, sorry."

"Oh? How often does this occur?"

"Lots. I can talk about it while we go get your stuff? If everyone does in fact want to hear story time with Ciaveth?"

"I wouldn't want to pry," says Safiya, who looks like she wants to pry very badly indeed.

"Oh, I absolutely do, this sounds fascinating."

He does a graceful and kind of showy turn, and starts leading them off to where he stashed his stuff. He wasn't planning to stash it there a second time, anyway.

Ciaveth rolls her eyes, amused. "Let's see, in order." She starts ticking off her fingers. "Githyanki, for having a shard of a silver sword in my chest. They wanted it back, and didn't care if retrieving it would kill me or not. I think they also wanted to kill me for having the audacity to touch their sacred broken sword, but it's not like I did that by choice or anything, so.

"Luskans, for being an incorrigible meddler. That one I honestly earned fair and square, even if I didn't precisely meet the people who wanted to kill me. They get points for novelty, though, framing and trying to use Neverwinter's insane justice system to get me killed was clever. I think they sent at least one large bladed golem thing, I don't actually remember what that was even about, just that it kept trying to kill me.

"One very anti-social warlock and his army of fiends who did not understand what 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend,' was until after he'd killed my best friend." And possibly condemned said best friend, Shandra, to either Hell or the Abyss in the process, but she hasn't yet been able to get a scry through to confirm. The resurrection sure didn't go through. "We were actually after the same big bad evil guy, he just was dumb and murderous. But I needed him anyway so we gritted our teeth and worked together.

"Hmm. ... You know, for all that I ended up killing him, I don't actually think the King of Shadows went after me first, so I suppose that doesn't count. He was just sort of... omnicidal against everything that wasn't his long-dead empire. Raising undead armies, attacking innocent villages, that sort of thing. He needed killing, I stand by that.

"And now whoever kidnapped me and removed my amazing sword piercing, and the bear god. Hooray."

"You went up against a Githyanki sword-stalker team and survived? That's quite impressive - they're some of the most potent warriors of their race. Or at least the most potent warriors that the Lich Queen doesn't consume for power."

"Yeah, fortunately for me they were sending much less competent bladeling and dwarven lackeys instead of showing up personally. It helps that they were spread very thin by just how many shards there were, and how spread out they were. I still had to track down the sword-stalker team and cut them off at the source, but I didn't just have a team of sword-stalkers show up outside my house and kill me then and there, I had time to learn magic and get help and learn swordplay and whatnot. That turned out to be very dumb of them. There turned out to be a reason why the team didn't go get help from other teams or the Lich Queen herself, though. My broken silver sword? Uh, yeah, it's Gith's. Or, well. Was Gith's. It's mine now."

"I'm beginning to see why someone wanted that shard out of you so badly. The kind of resonance you could set up with a piece of the actual Sword of Gith... wait, didn't you say they took your sword too? Did you mean that sword?"

"Yes. That sword. I am very upset about it. I reforged the damn thing and everything."

"... Did you reforge it smaller, considering you still had a piece of it lodged comfortably inside you?"

"No, uh - okay so when I say it's my sword now, I actually mean I don't think anyone but me could use it. I had the sword piercing for most of my life, the sword is very fond of me because I'm charming and likable, and the sword is... kind of alive, and its opinions matter. When I say I reforged the sword, I mean... magically, I got the shards to all go back to their original place in the sword. It was still a broken sword. And I was the only one that could keep it together, since it loved me very much. So the sword was a bunch of floating shards held together by will and magic, and had some holes in it. Still perfectly sharp, though."

Safiya nods. "The idea of anyone except you using the Sword for its original purpose at this point would be laughable. Which makes it all the more confusing that someone with the capabilities to kidnap you in the manner they did would steal it. It'd be like trying to steal my familiar - there's no value in the thing itself except perhaps as a ransom. But we've received no communication from the thief."

"Yeah. And dumping me where they dumped me. There's something deeper clearly going on here, and I do not like it."

"Agreed. I was told to protect you, and I can't do that without information. Or, well, I can protect you against immediate threats, but I'd like to be more helpful than a wand of Disintegrate."

"Hey, you also can cast persistent Haste, that's pretty helpful," says Ciaveth, trying to lighten the mood a little.

"I'm glad it is. Gann, are we nearing your cache?"

"Indeed, quite near!" He waves a hand towards a bit of a tree's roots, and the tree obligingly rearranges them a bit to reveal a bag. Gann grabs it and starts sorting through the contents, humming to himself.

"Excellent. Is there anything you need right now, or should we go hit up the nearest tavern to try and sweet talk ourselves a barbarian with a large weapon who can stand in front? Because that was my second plan."

"How dreadfully cliché. No, let's go see you try and fail to talk the natives into joining us, it should be quite entertaining."

Unfortunately, Gann is right; the natives are, to a man, vehemently opposed to fighting an army of spirits, no matter what compensation they're offered. (The more compensation they're offered, in fact, the more offended they become.)

Before long, the sun begins to set, the shadows lengthening and swallowing the light, and the atmosphere changes. The shadow-stone in Ciaveth's pocket feels colder and heavier in the dark.

"The best place to find a naturally occurring portal into the Plane of Shadows should be a liminal space of some kind," Safiya exposits. "If possible, one that's associated with death or concealment. Graveyards, back alleys, the space behind a building... we might be able to find one in the shadow of that gibbet by the prison, if all else fails."

“Oh, let’s not go back to that place just yet, hm? The day has been disappointingly boring enough already without revisiting stale pieces of scenery.”

Gann did not find the attempts to persuade the locals to fight spirits particularly entertaining.

“Wandering back alleys and seeing if we find a portal, or someone trying to mug us first, then. Maybe we can get a rogue.”

Fortunately, though not very conducive to their dreams of contracting a rogue, they don't have to go through many alleyways. The portal looks like a rippling curtain of pure darkness.

Safiya squints in its general direction, tracing her hands through the air. "I think... there's something here," she says. "It's faint, though. It should be..." She points at the obvious portal. "Somewhere around there."

“... huh. You can’t see it? I guess that makes sense, with me being the one with the shadow-stone. Well, you’ll be happy to know that you’re quite right. Give me your hand?”

She blinks as she touches Ciaveth's hand. "Oh! That's very well designed - I suppose we'll hand-chain through the portal?"

“Yep! Everybody hold hands and hope that this works in the other direction, too.”

“It would spare you the bear god,” points out Gann, taking her other hand.

“No it wouldn’t. Just delay him. I’d like to get this wrapped up sooner rather than later.”

And in they go!

Shadow Mulsantir is somehow darker than True Mulsantir on a moonless night. The shadows feel physical, oppressive, in a way that the clean night air on the Material Plane doesn't.

Safiya looks up the hill on which the city is built and lets out a startled laugh. "I'm guessing that's our destination," she says, pointing to a massive building carved from what look like the bones of giants, complete with a grotesquely massive skull at the top.

"Tasteful."

"Myrkul was never really one for subtlety, was he. Well. Better odds that it'll have lots of expensive things to pry off of the walls and sell in the morning, I suppose. Time to go raid it."

She doesn't expect to get there without something trying to kill them all, but, hey. She hasn't gotten to stab anything today, this will be downright therapeutic. It also gives her and Safiya the chance to see if Gann is useful or just around to make sarcastic comments and preen his hair.

"Aponi," intones Gann placidly, when something inevitably shows up to try to kill them.

A great fire elemental swirls into existence and begins making the Plane of Shadow look more like the Elemental Plane of Fire.

The nightwalker who thought it was getting an easy meal is very unhappy with the sudden existence of the great fire elemental!

Safiya contributes a blast of concentrated sunlight, which helps as well. Soon enough the nightwalker melts into scraps of shadow, and the way to the Death God's Vault is clear.

Ciaveth barely got to stab anything, she's so upset. Well, in the immediate sense, in the non-immediate sense she's glad that party member number three is not just decorative. But how can she get therapy if things die before she can properly stab them? It's terrible! Stabbing things is basically her only vaguely healthy coping mechanism!

Well, into the Death God's Vault. She expects she'll get to stab things later.

The interior of the Vault is just as impossibly grand as the façade, in a very different direction. The ceilings are vaulted and high enough to fit a decently sized dragon; the flagstones are black marble; their footsteps echo loudly.

The entry hall's main feature is an enormous gate of black stone, carved with an intricate design that the eye can't quite focus on without getting very close. Someone else is that close: a young woman, clad in silvery armor and with white-feathered wings folded across her back. She turns as they enter, tearing her eyes from the door with a visible effort.

"There are few who would brave the halls of the Death God's Vault," she says. Her voice is soft, sounding like nothing so much as a constant, gentle sigh. "Many would come seeking treasure. Some would seek knowledge. What calls you three to this place?"

"You, actually," says Ciaveth, consciously removing the belt that holds her rapier and setting it gently on the floor. Peace offering! Look, this isn't the sort of thing she's going to threaten anyone over at all. See how she can state her intentions very clearly without saying a word? Amazing, that.

"Your siblings asked after you. They seemed worried enough to go stupidly fight a spirit army about it. Are you okay?"

She smiles wanly. "They are very kind. And very brave. I had not known they would follow me so far... but it would be unlike them to give up a hunt, especially one so close to their hearts. No doubt it was Efrem and Susah you met, for they are the hunters in our number, even though Efrem bears the name of the Stag. They are persistent indeed."

She grits her teeth for a split second, then clears the tension from her face, squaring her shoulders and stretching her wings. "I am Kaelyn, called the Dove. Formerly of the House of the Triad. My spirit now lies within the house of Ilmater."

"Hi, Kaelyn the Dove. I'm Ciaveth Farlong, this is Safiya, and this is Gannayev." The hagspawn clears his throat from behind her. Ciaveth rolls her eyes, then adds, "Of Dreams. Apparently. I have no stake in your faith whatsoever, and even less desire to infringe on your life or your choices! So I go back and tell them you're fine, but that you're, uh, deep in meditation and do not want to be disturbed by other people they might send? Doing very important work? Somewhere far away? I'm open to suggestions."

She shakes her head. "I cannot - hide from them. It would be unjust. I will not go with them, but they deserve to hear the truth from my lips. And..." She hesitates, then hangs her head. "I do not think I will succeed here, not alone. If I cannot find victory yet, I might as well find something productive to do until my position has improved, instead of staring at this hateful door."

Ciaveth nods, looking vaguely pleased at Kaelyn's answer. "Okay. Well, do you want to join us for ransacking this place for knowledge and treasure first? And, relatedly, would you like to stupidly fight a large spirit army led by a bear god that's out to kill me?"

Kaelyn looks shocked, for a moment, then smiles tentatively. "I would be happy to join you in both of those tasks. I have not ranged far outside this chamber - the rest of the Vault is filled with powerful undead, and I soon realized that, even with all the holy power at my disposal, I would not last long against them. But with companions at my side I might have better luck. Or we could take care of your spirit army and return to the Vault later - it has kept for this long."

"No, but thank you. Let's do it now and save the trip. The army will arrive tomorrow according to our resident expert," she motions to Gann, "it's likely our portal out will close just before dawn, and we could use the spending money. You're a...." She squints at Kaelyn, then pronounces, "a cleric, right?"

"Yes. I channel the power of Ilmater."

Ciaveth nods. "I'm an eldritch knight, Safiya is a wizard, and Gann is, uh. ... Gann, what are you, actually."

"Besides devilishly handsome, well spoken, knowledgeable, and powerful beyond compare?"

Ciaveth does not dignify that with an answer. "Nevermind. Gann is some kind of weird not-druid thing. Like the equivalent of a sorcerer to a wizard, but to a druid. Associated with spirits."

Gann seems to find this very amusing, but doesn't clarify his chosen adventuring profession.

Kaelyn bows. "Well met to you all. I will endeavor to ease any suffering that may befall you."

"I'm sure we all appreciate it," Safiya contributes.

"As the martial combatant most likely to be getting stabbed here, I appreciate it very much," says Ciaveth, dryly. She reaches down to retrieve her rapier and clip its belt back around her waist. "So, which side do we ransack first? Left or right?"

Gann lets out a loud theatrical yawn, but does not cast any sort of vote to speak of.

"The door to the right is locked," Kaelyn apologizes. "I have reason to believe the key is in the chambers to the left. Unless one of you has a particular talent at picking locks, we will likely have to explore the left side first."

"Left it is! Thank you Kaelyn. Do you need a spare healing potion or want to cast any buffs before we get started? I've got a spare Extended Protection From Arrows if you'd like it."

"Oh - yes, certainly, I would appreciate being protected from arrows. And I have a few spells that I can put on everyone -"

Kaelyn provides death ward and protection from energy for everyone. "I've mostly been focusing on, um, the ability to smite my enemies, since I haven't had allies to support. This is a pleasant change of pace."

"There's always a place for smiting one's enemies," Safiya nods.

Kaelyn gets an extended version of protection from arrows, and a thank you for the nice buffs.

Gann waves a hand and says a word and casts something on Kaelyn too, but he doesn't explain anything about what it does or why he's doing it. Or even ask for permission before casting it.

(It's owl's insight, if anyone in this party of spellcasters makes their spellcraft check.)