"Point." 

"Anyway, you don't look like being a cultist has been very kind to you lately, would you like to defect?" 

"Hey! That's our tactic!" squawks one of the other cultists. 

The first tiefling glares back at Lusilla. "If you believe Lady Minagho will be less displeased with me for blatant treachery than for failure, you're a fool." 

"Well, the thing about being a crusader is that you don't have to stand around and let Minagho do whatever she wants to you! I, personally, threw her off a balcony." 

Some of the cultists take a nervous step back. "You're the Death Star," says the one who earlier objected to her stealing the demons' personnel-tempting tactics. 

"I'm the what? Have people been calling me that? Dear gods, desist." 

(Daeran breaks down giggling.)

"It's my lucky day, then. When I bring Minagho your head," um, wait, her true form doesn't have one of those, "or corpse, or whatever, she'll forgive me and remove this brand!"

"Or she could murder you, for funzies, because she's a demon."

He scoffs. "Don't mistake us for those damned Deskarites! The devotees of Baphomet don't go around destroying things for being useful!"

Doubt. 

"Say, aren't you Faxon, that little clerk from the town hall who kept badgering me for bribes to get rid of some bill or other? Well, you turning out to be a cultist is definitive proof of something we all know to be true: all bureaucrats are the spawn of the Abyss." 

(Lusilla makes a mental note to ask Anevia or Rathimus or someone later to explain "bureaucrat" to her.)

"You arrogant celestial spawn! Do you see now? We're everywhere! You looked down your nose at Faxon the clerk, now you will bow before Faxon the overlord!"

"I'll repeat what I said to you in the town hall the other day: I don't deal with parasites." 

"Curses? You can't touch me!" Ulbrig crosses his fingers, stands on one foot, and spits three times over his shoulder. "Hex me, vex me, I care not! Say a spell, your tongue will rot!"

Everyone pauses to stare at him. 

"...That won't save you from demonic magic, I'm afraid. Not even if you hop up and down a little bit." 

"How do you know? I've been doing it my whole life, and I'm still curse-free!" 

"Ulbrig, you were turned to stone for a hundred years." 

...

"Say, as long as you and we are in one place, any interest in monologuing at us about your plans?" 

Snort. "Why not? You won't live long enough to tell anyone, if it were even secret anymore, which it's not. Now that the city has fallen under our control, Lord Xanthir has ordered us to strip Kenabres of anything that might be of interest to him. He is a great master of occult and magical arts, and many of the relics in this museum have the potential to prove useful to him." 

"Who's Lord Xanthir?"

Scoff. "Who's Lord Xanthir, she asks. Xanthir the Plagued One is one of the greatest wizards alive! Or...whatever he is. His might and majesty are known to all!"