Pain. It surges through bone and blood. It tears at Belmarniss' heart, where the Relic of the Reaper once rested. A hole has been carved in her flesh, just above her heart, and raggedly stitched by an unskilled hand.
The witch who piped up before does so again. "We can only help you in certain ways, outlander," she sniffs. "To tell you how best to defeat the telthors would be a betrayal, no matter that Sheva hopes you will succeed."
"Well, if that's what your inner phylactery of faithfulness is telling you. Where's the prison?"
"Up the hill, by the gibbet," says Sheva. "We will speak with you again if you live."
And they vanish as suddenly as they appeared.
Safiya nods. "They're incorporeal, so force effects are most effective, and they tend towards... physical strength rather than magical... hello," she says to the two teenagers who have just approached the pair. One, a boy wearing a helmet with an impressive rack of stag's antlers attached to it, raises a hand in greeting.
"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," 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."
How yakshavey. "Nice to meet you. Uh, lost like she got turned around in the woods or like she has been kidnapped or what."
"Kaelyn came here seeking the abandoned stronghold of Myrkul, the Death God's Vault, which is in Shadow Mulsantir - the city's mirror on the Plane of Shadows," Efrem explains. "To enter Myrkul's sanctum would be a violation of our faith to Kelemvor, and so we cannot seek her out ourselves."
"...huh. I have never been to the Plane of Shadows under my own power, but I guess there might be time to check it out, especially if there is another handy portal just lying around, is there?" She turns into a water elemental for no reason. She's still hungry. She turns back to normal.
Safiya nods. "This city is somewhat notoriously close to its shadow counterpart, there should be plenty. And the stone we got from Magda should let us through other shadow portals just as easily. It wouldn't be too out of our way, although we'd likely want to wait for dusk if we want to get back in a timely fashion."
Efrem nods awkwardly. "Kaelyn has... abandoned her faith in Kelemvor. For this she was exiled from our grandfather's court. She now follows Ilmater, god of suffering and of martyrs."
"We hope to convince her not to become a martyr herself," Susah adds.
"...is she going to want to come back if we go say 'hey your siblings are concerned'?"
"If she does not wish to come back to the fold we will accept her decision," Efrem says.
Susah grimaces. "But she has the right to know that we would take her back. She left before we could reassure her, and we fear she may have taken her banishment, um, personally."
"It would seem difficult not to," Safiya mutters.
"Okay. So, that's on the to-do list for after dark, and we'll see in the meantime if we can recruit more backup from the prison."
"Thank you, stranger," Efrem says. "You are a friend to the House of the Triad and to the Menagerie." Then he and his sister trot off.
"Interesting," Safiya says when they've left. "Those weren't mere Kelemvor-worshippers - judging by the symbols on their armor, they were bona fide Doomguides. And half-celestial, too, if I'm not mistaken. They could be powerful allies."
"Kelemvor's elite clerics. They concentrate mostly on the destruction of undead, but they don't lose much utility to the specialization. And usually, in order to become a Doomguide in the first place you must destroy a powerful undead creature, so they're well selected for competence."
"No, regrettably, they're positive energy spirits. Superficially similar to an outside observer, but alignment-neutral and far trickier to deal with."
"Irksome." She turns into a moose because it occurs to her and she has Shapechange and WHY NOT.
The prison's pretty easy to locate; it's one of the only buildings in the city with its doors open, and there is, as promised, a gibbet out front.
"What a charming piece of local flavor."
"I suppose you're right. Small mercies."
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, outlander?"