INQUISITOR KHALI – AFTERLIFE CLUB, MARI-KYE, ASSYRIAN SEA

10TH CARLISHAE, EARLY SPRING 845 PBM

Khali sat at the most comfortable table in the VIP area. Seated at the table with her were the people from whom she needed answers. The only others still on that upper level were all her people. Janus was behind the bar, likely cleaning the joint out. Ramirez was lying on the floor. Traviston was standing near the table looking menacing.

“You are lucky Ramirez did not drown. It was a close thing. This conversation would be starting very differently if he had.” Khali studied the people around the table.

‘Or if we were in Faylenia, and I had access to my usual facilities. Isolated, scared and either in pain, or in fear of the pain to come. That is when people tend to tell you their secrets. Instead, we negotiate.’

‘Kezzimeir is probably irrelevant, but you can never be too sure. I would think he will be keen to see things wrapped up so he can get his shoulder tended to.’

‘Hemas’tan, my next link in the chain. Probably thought he was pretty smart casting that spell to breathe underwater. Not sure how that was supposed to save him from the piranhas, but maybe he thought Kezzimeir would end things before he died. He tells me everything I need, or he dies. Probably ‘and’ he dies. I suspect his crimes have already tipped the scales too far to live. Maybe it was luckier for me than him that he cast that spell.’

‘Kravath was an added bonus. Was in the VIP area. Looks really unwell. Almost as if a massive shard of wood had impaled him about a week ago. And apparently his masters either can’t or don’t care enough to heal him. Unfortunately for Kravath, I doubt I need him either, but he gets to live long enough to tell me anything useful, including whether he was enthralling me back in the warehouse, and how the hell he got away.’

‘Madrath. You played me. Your explanations better be good or your shrine becomes a pile of smoking ash, perhaps with you in it. You should probably stop looking so proud of yourself too.’

“I will warn you that I have cast a zone of truth around this table,” warned Khali. “Anyone attempting to lie will be caught. The punishment for lying will be unpleasant. Kravath and Hamas’tan, how you answer these questions may well decide whether you live or die. Am I clear?”

“Can ya please explain by who’s authority ye think ya can harm me, love?” asked the dwarf indignantly.

“You are a criminal, who is associating with people spreading the word of the Dark Gods. The punishment for their crimes is death. Being an accomplice to these actions could also mean death”

“You have no juris… jurikdiction… juris…. authority here,” stammered Kezzimeir. “The five tribes don’t accept Inkwazition rule.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about all of that. The only thing you need to understand is that Faylen claims authority over all of Driax. Its probably because he created the whole thing. And rest assured that I take his views on my jurisdiction a lot more seriously than what the five tribes might say,” Khali replied firmly. “Any more questions before we get started?”

“As a fellow priest there are several agreements between the churches that mean you cannot harm me,” pointed out Madrath. Annoyingly he was looking at her, but not directly at her. His eyes seemed to be looking slightly to the left of her head. It was disconcerting, as Khali could not tell if there was something stuck on her face, or perhaps something behind her.

‘Are you doing that on purpose to rattle me, you weird little man.’

“There are agreements between the churches, that is true. But if you have been helping promote the worship of the Dark Gods, I intend to ignore every single one of them. I figure when I get to the gates of the heavens, I am going to care more about what Faylen thinks of me than whatever small, misguided deity you worship,” replied Khali.

“Ballotre,” was the single one-worded response from Madrath.

‘The God of mischief and trickery. Frequently also a church involved in the underworld and crime, which they then use to fund the church. Explains a lot. Not a minor god. But not a true major god either.’

“That won’t save you,” assured Khali.

“It might,” replied Madrath.

‘You are still so damn, annoyingly calm. What do you know that I don’t? Or do you just have a death-wish? Maybe it will come out when the questions start. Let’s start with the dwarf.’

“Did you in any way promote or assist these two, or anyone else in the worship of the Dark Gods?” she asked, watching his body language particularly closely for signs of deceit.

‘Dwarves are naturally quite resistant to magick. If there is anyone here on whom my spell may be ineffective, it is the dwarf.’

“Dark Gods ye say. What would any self-respectin’ dwarven pirate need a Dark God for lassie? Romard, the mighty God of the sky be enough for any man of the sea!” asserted Kezzimeir robustly. “And we darn’t offend him easily, lest he sink our ships and drown us all. Nigh… we not pray to any of the Dark Gods here.”

‘I detect no sigh of him lying from either my magick or my eyes. Guess we move onto Kravath. Can always come back to him if required. None of them are going anywhere until I know what I need.’

“Kravath, I will admit to being a little surprised to see you here,” Khali began.

“Go screw yourself, Inquisition scum,” Kravath spewed back. Khali’s expression changed to one of disappointment.

“Traviston, if you would be so kind,” requested Khali. Traviston reached down and took Kravath’s tied hands and placed them on the table. He spread out the fingers of his left hand on the table so that each was clearly straight, separated and very much exposed. He then placed a large, broad bladed cleaver on the table, not that far from the vulnerable fingers.

“I will get my information. How many fingers, toes and other … appendages, we have to cut off before then is really up to you,” she replied grimly. “Would you like a sample of what it feels like to lose something to my blade?”

Kravath was quite wide-eyed now. He shook his head.

‘Perhaps you will co-operate now. Although it probably assists in loosening the tongues of the others if you do not. You losing body parts won’t be quite as convincing to them as losing their own, but it’s close.’

“Easy one to begin with. How did you escape the warehouse?”

‘This doesn’t require you to tell me of your plans, or anything of your dark master. If you won’t answer this, then you are unlikely to tell me anything.’

“It wasn’t me, I swear. I remember being blasted off the altar, and…,” Kravath began. He then paused as he considered the words to continue.

‘Altar? That’s a fancy word for the shoddy table I recall you standing on.’

Kravath’s eyes drifted towards Hemas’tan. There was a very slight shake of the head from Hemas’tan and then Kravath stopped trying to finish his sentence. Khali responded with a slight nod of her head.

SLAM!

Traviston picked up the blade in a whir of movement and slammed it down, taking off Kravath’s little finger at the 2nd knuckle. There was silence for a full second more, before Kravath screamed in pain. He tried to pull his wounded hand back, but Traviston’s grasp was stronger and the hand only slid a few inches. Traviston;s leaned closer so that his eye was only an inch from that of Kravath’s.

Kravath was cursing, and most of it quite insulting to Khali and her heritage.

“9 ½ fingers to go,” she replied simply. “How did you escape?”

‘Now comes the real loyalty test. You now know each wrong answer costs you fingers. Are you really going to lose everyone of your fingers for your secret? And what then? We just start on something else. So will you die for this secret? I doubt it.’

“It was Hemas’tan. He must have cast some spell which recalled any preacher who got badly injured,” Kravath replied through his pain. Hemas’tan’s expression also took a turn for the worse.

‘Very good. He turns on Hemas’tan and confirms there are other preachers.’

“That is pretty powerful magick. Any idea how it worked?” she asked.

“Shut-up!” said Hemas’tan, his voice somewhere between rage and desperation.

“I think it has something to do with our dragon-amulets, but I don’t know more than that,” replied Kravath.

Khali looked to the table where all the items that had been confiscated from these four were now piled. She could clearly see two amulets depicting a red dragon. She noted the one from Hemas’tan’s neck was of a much higher quality and value than Kravath’s, even having chips of red ruby for its eyes.

“Hemas’tan… or anybody else, care to elaborate?” she asked.

“As he said. Screw you and your Sun God,” cursed Hemas’tan.

‘So very brave.’

“We will get to you soon. Then we will see how tough you are when its your fingers on the table,” retorted Khali, before returning her gaze to Kravath. “Were you using magick to enthrall the cultists?”

Kravath now sat with his head hung low. He had broken.

“Not me. That was the amulets too,” he replied.

“Back in the warehouse you mentioned someone had given you a gift to protect you from ‘us’. Who was that?” Khali asked.

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She saw Hemas’tan stiffen again. She whistled and Janus came over, clearly putting the nights takings from the bar into her pockets as she did so. Khali gestured towards Hemas’tan and Janus leant in close to him. A blade appeared in her hand from somewhere. She leant down, the blade disappearing below table height and towards his lap, and she whispered something into Hemas’tan’s ear. His eyes went wide and he nodded his head firmly. Janus gestured for Khali to continue.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear your answer, Kravath.”

“Hemas’tan gave it to me. He said those of us going into Faylenia had a special assignment, so we got special amulets, and he also sent an acolyte with me to help.”

‘Interesting. OK. Let’s start on Hemas’tan for a while.’

Khali nodded towards Traviston and then pointed at Hemas’tan. Traviston released Kravath’s hand. He immediately cradled it to his chest and clamped his other hand over the bleeding stump.

“I do not know anything about any of this,” interjected Madrath. “So, can I go?”

Khali mock laughed. “Nice try. You sent us here, so you know something.”

“I know they use the shrine to pray occasionally. I know that tonight I managed to gather all of the various crime bosses into one room. And by dawn I expect you will have killed my rivals, and hopefully torched this place,” replied Madrath. “When your strong-arm wakes tell him I appreciate his efforts. His saving you from the poison was spectacular.”

“You were the one who gave Ramirez the ‘tip’,” Khali asked, mostly rhetorical. Madrath nodded, still staring slightly to the side of her head.

“Why did you involve the Verdenel?” she asked, recalling his magick scream to make sure everyone in the bar blamed the Verdenel for the attack.

“Those particular Verdenal, the Varkonen here, and your new dwarven friend, currently control many of the criminal enterprises in the city. They do it in a very sloppy way, and they frequently conflict in ways which spills out and affects innocent people in the city, explained Madrath. “As of tonight, the church of Ballotre will run things. Anyone who wishes to continue to operate will need pay a devotion fee to the church, and conflict between parties under our devotion will be banned. You will have made Mari-kye a much safer city, Inquisitor.”

‘And the church of Ballotre much richer.’

“You had nothing to do with promoting the worship of Dark Gods?” she asked.

‘If he answers no to this, unless some other conflicting evidence comes to light, then I cannot punish him for anything. Nothing else he has done here violates the law of Faylen. In fact, I suspect the Lord of Light would approve. Well… if the Lord of Light were to acknowledge that crime and the existence of outlets for certain vices is inevitable. Which the non-Inquisition part of the church does not.’

“I did not, replied Madrath solemnly. “My God prefers to remain neutral in the conflict between your master and the Dark Gods, but we were not assisting them here in anyway. I wasn’t even supplying them their drugs.”

“Which is actually part of the reason you moved against them,” pointed out Khali. Madrath grinned slightly and nodded.

Traviston had now repeated the process of grabbing Hemas’tan’s hand, and laying it out on the table. As he finished unfurling his fingers Hemas’tan’s eyes went wide. He glanced to the knife and his resolve collapsed.

“OK. The amulets have a spell in them,” blurted Hemas’tan. “They trigger if the wearer is hurt bad, and it teleports them back to a oom we have here in Afterlife.”

“Contingency spells linked to powerful summoning or teleportation spells. Pretty powerful stuff,” commented Khali.

‘More powerful than I could manage. And I suspect more powerful than this barbarian is capable of too.’

“I will tell you everything I know if you agree to spare me,” bargained Hemas’tan.

“I agree to spare your worthless soul if the information leads to whoever is above you,” Khali replied.

‘Of course, I suspect you and I differ on what sparing your soul means.’

“The amulets were made by a man named Anders. We had to meet him in Drasak,” confessed Hemas’tan.

‘The dam is broken. We must be careful he does not include lies, but from here he likely tells us what we need.’

“Where did you meet this Anders?” Khali asked.

“At a tavern called the ‘Eternal Watchman’. It was down an alley near the northern markets in Mascherata,” replied Hemas’tan, resignation and defeat in his eyes.

‘Mascherata, capital of Drasak, a nation controlled by the Assassin Guilds. There may be no nation on Driax that is as immoral, or so in dire need of a cleansing inferno to rip through the place.’

“What did he look like?” asked Khali.

“Tall man, with blond hair and blue eyes. Strange accent from the west. Wore plate-mail armour and carried a bastard sword, even to our meeting. Still felt soft and pretty though, like rich city-folk.”

“Who set up the meeting?” probed Khali.

“We were first approached years ago by a man named Ronardo. He gave us money and taught us of the Great Dragon. He later asked us to start doing things for him,” replied Hemas’tan.

‘Who the hell is the Great Dragon? Does he mean Razilin’Tera from the ancient stories? What does a 1000 year old dead dragon have to do with anything? Let’s keep that till last. Don’t want religious zealotry to get in the way of good information gathering.’

“What does Ronardo look like?” Khali asked.

“Hairless rich Lotese noble. Fancy clothes. Speaks a lot. Likes sound of his own voice.”

‘Sounds like most nobles to me.’

“Did you happen to get the last name of either of these nobles?” prodded Khali.

“Of course. We judge you by the feats of your father and father’s father,” Hemas’tan replied sternly. “Anders is son of Hightower, a great warrior. Ronardo is son of Nathoman, although why anyone would claim son of coward merchant I do not know”.

‘Ok. Neither of those names mean anything to me. But nobles cannot be that hard to find.’

“What is the plan with all the preachers you are sending off?” Khali asked. Hemas’tan hesitated slightly.

“I do not know,” he replied. Khali’s magick detected a lie, but she didn’t need it to detect that one.

‘Not a great liar this one. Strong, violent barbarian types usually aren’t.’

She looked from Hemas’tan to Traviston, about to give him the signal to begin chopping. Hemas’tan remembered his predicament.

“Wait…” pleaded Hemas’tan.

SLAM!

His eyes shot to his hand. The knife was embedded into the table just to the side of his finger. Hemas’tan’s breathing was now quite ragged.

“They are to go and find those who feel the current rulers have forgotten them. The poor, and those kept under foot. Speak to them of a new god who wants to return them to power, to allow the strong to take what is rightfully theirs.”

‘That could be a compelling message if delivered right. Not sure it leads to a capable force on the battlefield, but from inside the walls of a besieged city it could be very dangerous. Hell, even just running amok in a normal city it could be hugely problematic.’

“Where did you send them?” Khali asked.

“All over. We send a single agent to each city within two weeks ride of here. To a few special places we also sent acolytes to assist.”

“And all the preachers are of the five tribes?”

“No. Many. But we do not care. Any believer who is fervent with his words may be a preacher.”

‘How very tolerant of you. Willing to send people of any race to their likely death in a far-off place, likely at the hands of a burning implement wielded by an Inquisitor like me.’

“How many have been sent back to you?” Khali asked hopefully.

“Two, including Korvath,” replied Hemas’tan.

“Where is the other one?” Khali asked.

May as well bring him to the table too.

“She died from her wounds. All we got back was a body. She had a cross burned into her chest, so we suspect it was one of your order,” explained Hemas’tan

‘Ahh, my mistake. Never assume corruption can only be found in males. We are better than that. As for the cause of death, we can only hope it was one of us. I wonder if they got anything else out of her.’

“Which city had she been dispatched to?” asked Khali.

“Faylenia.”

Our capital! What a foolish place to try and set up a chaos cult.

“Oh good. The suicide mission. How did she get assigned that plum gig? Drew straws, she got the shortest? Wouldn’t pleasure the right cult leader?” taunted Khali.

“She volunteered. Believe it or not Inquisitor, but not everyone likes your order,” explained Hemas’tan.

“I assume nobody likes it. You aren’t supposed to. We find the darkest parts of the mortal soul, and we cut out the corruption with flaming blades. If you encounter us, chances are we are looking for you or someone close to you. And chances are strong that shortly after that you hate us,” retorted Khali.

“Quick side question,” Khali interjected into her own discussion. “Given you have magickal powers of some kind, how come your tribe hasn’t killed you yet? I thought Korellian barbarians didn’t think much of magick, and the Varkonen least of all.”

“My powers are gifts. I did not study magick. The gods wanted me to have these powers. They mark me as descended from a dragon. Some of my people tried to kill me. I killed them.”

‘Innate powers. Hemas’tan is a sorcerer then. A dragon with water breathing though? Its possible but it certainly isn’t Red Dragon heritage flowing through his veins.’

“Who told you that you were descended from a dragon?” Khali asked skeptically.

“Ronardo detected it with his magick. He said that is why he sought me out. He can detect those chosen by the Dragon,” replied Hemas’tan proudly.

‘Interesting. Almost certainly a lie. But a compelling tale.’

“How did Ronardo tell you what to do?” Khali asked.

“The amulets. It allows Ronardo to speak inside your head.”

“Can you speak back?” Khali asked. Hemas’tan nodded affirmatively.

‘I guess I will be keeping those. One to send back to the Inquisition, and one for me.’

“Can you initiate the calls from your end?” Khali asked.

“I can.”

“How?” she probed.

“You must sacrifice someone to the amulet. Its blood will activate a connection to Ronardo.”

“Have you ever tried that?” asked Khali.

“I have not,” Hemas’tan replied. Khali kept waiting to see if her lie detection spell would say that was a lie, but it remained silent.

‘Hmm. Am I willing to sacrifice one of these to try and setup a call with this Ronardo? I am not. We will hang the two barbarians. They are guilty of worshipping the Dark Powers. The others get to live.’

“Where would I likely find Ronardo or Anders now,” Khali asked.

“I do not know. The last time I saw them was when I met Anders in Drasak.”

‘No lie detected. Ok, I think we are coming to the end of this little gathering.’

“Who is the Great Dragon?” Khali asked.

“He is the Dragon of strength,” replied Hemas’tan proudly. “He rewards those who are strong, and those who build great empires over their weak neighbours. He will grant Varkonen vast lands to rule, much gold, and many slaves.”

“Does he have a name?” Khali queried.

“He has many names. The Great Dragon, the Unyielding Fire, Razilin’Tera.”

‘So it is the evil dragon from the legends.’

“You know he is dead right? Been dead for 850 years or so,” replied Khali. “Died when the paladin Xarron jammed a sword into this chest.”

“He is a God. He cannot die. And soon, he will walk the earth again.”

‘I feel like if a dragon who died 850 years ago was a God, we would know about it by now… right?’

“Have you seen any priests of this Razilin’Tera perform feats of magick with their prayers?” queried Khali.

‘Not 100% fool-proof test, but other than wizards pretending to be priests, if a priest can call forth magick, then some kind of entity is answering the prayer.’

“Who do you think created the amulets?” replied Hemas’tan. “I have seen both Anders and Ronardo summon the power of their God”.

‘Wow! If that is true, then this God is real and could be powerful. I suspect the Inquisition will wish to know of the possible arrival of a new major God in the neighbourhood. Particularly if it’s the Dragon who tried to take over all of Driax the last time he was in town. This is also a lucky break for just about everyone here.’

“We are done here. Kravath and Hemas’tan, I cannot find you guilty of worshipping forbidden Gods, because technically worshipping Razilin’Tera is not forbidden. But I will be sending you back to Faylenia, where the church can decide what to do with you,” sentenced Khali.

Both barbarians hung their heads in resignation.

“The Afterlife will burn,” she continued, looking straight at Kezzimeir. “You allowed cults to gather here, and then to send their agents into my empire. But I cannot be sure how much you knew, so you get to live.”

Kezzimeir’s emotions played across his face in a flash. Denial, followed by rage, followed by resignation at the reminder the Inquisitor could do far more than just burn the place. He was indeed escaping with his life.

“What of me?” asked the priest of Ballotre, his smug grin beaming back at Khali.

“You are free to go,” she replied begrudgingly.

‘You both helped and hindered my investigation. But dammit, you also manipulated my investigation to your own purposes.’

She slapped the priest across the face with her gauntleted hand.

Her hand passed harmlessly through the priest, the image flickering slightly as it did so.

An illusion?! But then where is he?

Khali immediately began a prayer to detect magick in the area around her.

“Please Inquisitor. Let us not embarrass you or your lord by trying to see through the illusions of the God of Illusion. Just focus on the fact we both got we wanted today.”

Her prayer completed. But as she looked around the room, Khali had to concede she could not see auras of Illusion magick anywhere.

“May we assist each other’s causes again in the future,” came an echoey version of the priest’s voice, but trailing off like it was getting further away.

“Alright. You heard the judgements. Let’s make it happen,” barked Janus with enthusiasm. “Burn the joint. Two for express travel to Faylenia.”