(Live RP done with Andrew in the car while driving, transposed from memory as best as I could once we got home. XD)

 

Delilah wakes up, groggy from a short, fitful sleep. Wondering if it was all a dream... As her body stabs with pain and refuses to move, she remembers… it’s not.

She sees, or more rather, feels she is still tied at the hands and wrists, with poultices and salves dressing her wounds. They hurt like hell, and remembering although the woman who came to tend to them was none too gentle, they are starting to mend. She also remembers she wasn’t treated very kindly when they dragged her back here, having removed the stolen robe and backhanding her for her insolence. Her jaw still ached from it, likely discolored and bruised.

Moving her eyes the best she can, she sees she is still in the same room, on the same table as before. The room is still bare. Her things are gone, with the exception of her silk rope which is hung in the corner by the door. It looks like they thought she stole it from here when she killed the two cultists earlier, and just returned it.

She glances up at the cultist required to watch over her, vague memories of the last few hours. It looks like she has a dedicated guard now because of her escape attempt. It seemed they brought in a new guy every 30-60 minutes or so, and each force fed her the alchemic liquid each shift—much more often than necessary, but not wanting to take any chances. It had a taste like club soda mixed with sulfuric acid, and was horrible to endure.

A portly somber looking fellow sits in the chair now, mumbling to himself, not realizing she’s awake.

“I don’t even wanna be here…” he grumbles, frustrated and rather sad. “So many other things I could be doing…” He sighs to himself. “I miss my brother… and my sister…”

She watches him as he talks. He prattles on to himself about his predicament, his family, his life. After several minutes of this, she’s feeling a mix of emotions like a ball of incredulous, irritated empathy. She thinks to herself, “Why do I feel for this guy… maybe I can use this to my advantage… ugh I hate… I hate using people now. I used to all the time, why do I care now?? What’s wrong with me? I can do this.”

She gives him a sincere look of curiosity mixed with concern. (high persuasion roll). After a few extra minutes, he looks down at her and sees with surprise she is awake. “Oh! You’ve—you’ve been listenin’ to me, huh?” He gives her a look of uncertainty, but then relief. “You know, it’s... it’s nice to talk to someone who listens. These guys, they don’t listen. They don’t care.” He grumbles.

Over the next 30 minutes or so he continues expounding on his life story, excited now that he has an audience. He talks about his fractured family, his mother and father splitting up, and how he and his brother had to go with their dad (to their disgust). How they grew up in Manchent in Alwyn, but went with him to Northern Vespa to raise goats. “I hate goats.” He talks about how he missed them all being together, and leans in close to her. “Can… can you keep a secret? My brother an’ I… we was always fans of our mom. We woulda lived wit’ her in a heartbeat.” He sighs.

The whole time, Delilah keeps up the facade of feigning interest or surprise, excitement or sadness. Sometimes… she doesn’t have to pretend much. She hates that she’s feeling empathy for any of these monsters, but… she can’t help it. He talks about his attempt at joining this cult, hoping to make it “like a new family” so to say, but also hoping that their new power will help him convince his dad to leave his new wife and family, and get back with his mom.

“Hey you look like… you look like you was from Alwyn… You was there when we got you.” He gives her a look. “From your clothes, I’d say… iunno… Southern Vespa?” She tries to look excited, like he got it right. She blinks twice as if to say “Yes”.

He looks super happy and shifts in his chair to get closer to her. “And, and you looks like you…. Was a sailing girl? You a sailor?” She is still dressed up in Sarah’s clothes, albeit without the rest of her disguise on. She struggles to smile and blinks twice. He is visibly delighted now.

“Oh this—this here is so fun. Yous is blinking a lot. Is… is that meanin’ somethin?”

She blinks twice again, trying to signal to him that it’s a code. “Ooh, I see, that is like…. Like you is saying yes? Then what is no?”

She gives one slower blink, then stares at him.

“Really now, this is… this is somethin else. I love this.” He looks a bit sad, and pulls out a vial of the alchemic liquid he’s supposed to give her. He stares at it, flipping it around in his hand. “I was…. Supposed to give ya this. They’d get mad if I dinnit. But…” He looks at her and puts it in his pocket. “I likes talking wit’ ya.” He leans back in his chair, watching her. “Yous and me… we just in the wrong place at the wrong time, huh? We not so different.”

She tries to nod her head, looking to the ground and back at him.

“I’m not so good with alls this. I’m not that bad ofa guy, you knows?” He pulls out his daggers, looking at them. “I’m not good wit’ stuff like… these.” He sighs, putting them away again.

“Yous… yous going to a bad place.” He looks sad. “It was interestin’ when they first… when they first initiated me. I didn’t know wheres their secret base was, see? But I had to go to get initiated. They had a totem--” He catches himself. “Oh… maybe I sayin’ too much. You wasn’t supposed to knows that.”

Delilah looks confused at the mention of a totem, and tries to urge him to keep talking.

“Well… I suppose now you knows…” He continues to describe it in minor detail, but mostly the feel of the place. Of some castle like building. A few tidbits of minor horrific detail. The more she listens though, the more Delilah gets a well of realization in the pit of her stomach. (high knowledge/insight roll)

(high survival roll to try to talk) “I…ve… s…seen it. Bef…ore.” She struggles out.

He stops dead and looks at her. He leans in close. “You… yous seen the totem before? When? Wheres?”

(medium survival roll to try to talk again, can only say one word.) She struggles a bit, and forces out one last word. “W---wuxia.”

His eyes widen. “Ooooooh… you seen it before wes found it….” His smile grows wide, like he can relate to her even better now. “Did… did you feel its influence?”

Too tired to try to say more, she blinks twice. Very, very knowingly, remembering what happened when she was there last.

“Woah… that is… that is so interestin’ miss.” He leans back again. “It’s… it’s too bad theys wantin’ to use you for a sacrifice and all. Yousd make a good fighter for our team. You seem very capable like.”

A new scheme starts forming in Delilah’s mind…. A possible plan B if she can’t escape this airship. She looks eager, trying to nod her head and blinking twice. She stares hard at him, hoping he understands.

“Yous… you wanna be on our side? Yous wanna be a cultist? Is that right?”

She blinks again excitedly.

“Woah, wells… that would be something. Maybe—maybe I could… hang tight for just a moment. My shift is almost up, let me do somethin’ reals quick like.” He makes for the door, and before he leaves he turns back. “Oh by the ways, my name is Gerald.” With a smile, he disappears.

Delilah immediately takes the time to wriggle against her paralysis and her ropes. She eyes her silk cord in the corner, unable to activate it unless it is in her hand, and she sighs in frustration. A tingling can be felt in her fingertips, but she’s not able to move quite yet. Her throat is loosening up more though, and the burning numbness is subsiding.

After a few minutes of this, she stills as she hears his boots coming back down the hallway. Gerald comes in, excitedly. Closing the door behind him, he comes back over to sit down. “So I got my shift extended! I told thems I was really happy to helps with you, and keep an eye on you careful like. So we can talk more. This is so nice.” He eagerly scoots closer.

He begins talking more about his family, his life, what interesting things he can think of with the totem. Time passes rather slowly, but soon enough his 2nd shift is coming to a close. By this point, Delilah has some feeling coming back to her hands and feet. Her legs and arms tingle, and she can make slightly better sentences with Gerald. He looks at the door, then back to her. “I’ll be right back again. I’m gonna make em think I, like, really don’t wanna bes here, but I’m doin’ my best to likes, keep you secure, ya know?”

He looks worried, but she tries to respond. (medium survival check, can say three words). “Use… y…your strengths.” Delilah mumbles to him. He looks at her. “Yeah… yeah I… I suppose my strengths is talkin. And stuff… I’ll do my bests.” He smiles and hurries off.

Knowing she doesn’t have much time before he returns, she bides the minutes, formulating a plan. Seeing his face when he returns though helps set it in motion. He enters again, kind of pale and wide eyed. He walks up slowly and somberly to the table.

“So theys uh… they said I was gabbing too much. Talkin’ too much with yas… They said I couldn’t stay heres no more, and another fella is comin’ in instead.” He looks downcast and pulls out a vial, swirling with the mixture from earlier—but stronger. “They said I needs to uh… give you a double dose of this hears stuff. I don’t wanna. But… they said if I didn’t do my job, they’d… they’d jab my eyes out.”

Delilah feels and looks visibly disturbed at that, not putting it past the other cultists to keep good on that promise. Now able to talk with some effort, she struggles out, “I d…don’t want t..to g…et you in t..trouble.” She tries to seem genuine, and in a very small way… she is. She glances back at the rope on the wall, then him, and then back to the rope.

“L…let’s ma..make it b..believable. Wh…why don’t y…you tie me up m...ore. And I…I’ll take t…the m…edicine.” (high persuasion check)

He looks at the rope then back at her. “That’s a good ideas! Ok… ok let’s do that.” He goes over to fetch her magic rope from the wall, and comes back over to tie it around her. He unties her wrists first, and she lets her arms fall limp to the table. He ties them up behind her back with the new rope, and since it’s so long, ties it around her torso. He takes the rope from her hands and ties it once around her upper arms, knotting it as well as he can.

“Okay there, how’s that?”

Delilah smiles and says, “P..pefect Ger…ald.”

She eyes the vial and grimaces at the thought, trying to ready herself for drinking it again. He looks at it in his hand.

“Sorry, I… I really don’t wanna do this part. I know it ain’t pleasant-like.”

She shakes her head slightly, fibbing. “I…it’s okay. B…by now, I…I’m getting… u…used to it.”

Gerald comes over and pulls down her loose gag bandana and gently opens her mouth. Looking rather guilty, he tips the vial into her throat. Delilah struggles trying not gag at the more intense concoction, holding back the intense urge to vomit.

“Okays, I’m… I gotta go now. The new guy… Happy… he’s… he’s not very nice. Sorry.” He looks sad, and they hear boots coming down the hall. They both glance over as the door is knocked open, a tall, lanky sort of fellow striding in with a sneer.

He looks down his nose at Gerald. “Get out of here, loser. You’re done.”

Gerald takes one last look at her, and hurries from the room, closing the door behind him. The new guy looks down at Delilah now, getting in close. “So you’re the one we’re having to deal with, huh? What a joke…”

He looks at the door and back to her, then grabs her face and roughly opens her mouth. He takes a sniff. “Good, the doofus did give you the stuff.” She resists the urge to either bite him or spit in his face, but opts not to irritate such a nasty fellow…yet.

He sits down and scratches himself, spreading out and leaning over the back of the chair like he really could care less. “I can’t believe the boss. You’re nothing.” He gets a crooked grin on his lips. “I could make you squeal… I could stab you over, and over…but he wouldn’t like that.”

He pulls out his daggers, twirling them expertly. “I could take him on though… I could totally waste that cocky bastard.” He definitely seems like the kind of fellow who can kill well… and who has killed a lot.

He looks at her, and with a sneer, flashes a dagger right toward her face, stopping a hair above the skin on her forehead, right between her eyes. (rolls and fails a cha save)

Delilah flinches slightly, closing her eyes at the empty threat. She opens them again and glares at him.

Happy just laughs. “You are pathetic. But…” he eyes her. “You did kill two of those other losers. But two is nothing. I’ve killed… 62.”

He stands, slipping off the top of his robes so he can practice his daggers better. All along his right arm are tattoos of little smiley faces. He looks down at them, and at her with an evil smile. “Each one is for one of my kills.” He taps one of them, the tattoo gleaming in the low lamp light. He leans in close to her with a dagger hovering over her skin, as if debating… considering. “Maybe I should carve you a couple… give you two. What do you think, eh?”

(fails another save)

Delilah looks visibly disgusted and distraught, struggling not to be. Happy just throws his head back and laughs.

He observes her again, then looks at her ropes. He makes a frustrated face, picking her up and turning her on her stomach. He looks at how the ropes knot around her hands and around her torso. “Ugh, freaking Initiate. Such a chump, doesn’t even know how to tie ropes right.” He pulls them tighter, cutting into her wrists with her own cord. She can feel her hands becoming a bit numb from the effort. When he’s done he flips her back on her side roughly. “That’s better.”

He stares at her. “Why don’t we just tie you to the table…. Leave you here.”

Delilah feigns dislike at that idea. (High deception roll) She tries to shake her head no.

“Yeah… Yeah. Let the stuff wear off. So what? Let you squirm… let you scream…. Let you curse us aaaaall you want. It won’t help you.” He smiles evilly.

Delilah continues to look just as distraught, and he seems even more excited.

“Yeah… We should do that.” He glances away, then glances back. “But no. They’d say no. They want to keep you quiet.” He scoffs, unhappy.

He steps away from her, twirling one of his daggers. He practices for some time, focused and quiet….still just as cocky. She watches him the entire time, planning what to do. The minutes tick away. He seems to forget to give her his own vial of the voice-killing potion, and Delilah starts to feel the tingling numbness wearing off. Her body is all but active again. (high survival roll).

She grips the end of her silk rope tightly in a slightly shaky hand. She tries her hardest to be quiet (stealth 15) “G…greatness.” She mumbles under her breath.

The rope animates at her thoughts, and she wills it to go toward her guard. Her mind swims with an endless debate. “Should I do this? He’d kill me… He’ll kill others. This is an evil person. But they’re not all evil… are they? I can take him out… I’ve already done it, I… I can do it again, can’t I?”

The rope snakes around his ankles. He does a big flourish with his dagger, tossing it in the air above his head.

Delilah strikes. The rope pulls tight and he looks down at the last second, “What the--?!”

Swept off his feet he slams against the floor hard, cracking his face against it. She has the rope ready to strangle him, but instead, his dagger comes down and skewers him right in the back of the neck. He goes limp immediately, blood pooling out. Dead.

She relaxes in mingled disgust and relief. “Undying…” she mutters, and the rope coils and goes limp. After a moment she starts to wriggle from her bonds, (high slight of hand check to escape) and manages to squirm free of Gerald’s looser bonds.

Climbing down carefully from the table, she tests the weight of her body on her healing wounds. Part one of the plan… successful. “But,” she thinks, “I can’t escape like this… I can try, but… I might just have to be dramatic about it. Lean into my strengths… right? Let’s give them a show.”

She leans down and slips the dagger from Happy, wiping it on his robes. She grabs his second one, looking at the paralysis poison gleaming on the edges. Staring down at him, she rifles through his pockets. Leaving a small sack of coins there with him, she instead finds a scroll. Putting the daggers down, she unrolls it and reads.

The first side is a list of hits… names, all scrawled down the page. It looks like people he was supposed to capture, subdue, but not kill… rather, bring back for sacrifices. She cocks an eyebrow at a note crudely scribbled in the corner.

“Malice is back.”

She looks at the man on the floor, with his strange and cruel tattoos, and back at the paper. (rolls super low knowledge/insight type check, got a 3).

She thinks to herself, “Is this… Is this Malice?” She looks at him again, and just cringes. “I imagined someone a bit more…. Intense. This guy seemed more showy… threatening yes, but…” She tries to remember back to what Rhys was just telling her the other day on the train, about what he knew of Malice. It did sound like a different person… maybe. “I’ll have to ask him when I see him, I suppose… If I can see my friends again.” She looks at the door, fear and determination swirling.

She turns the paper over casually, not expecting anything, but stops. Her blood runs cold. Reading and looking at the diagram, it appears to be a picture of the totem. Undoubtedly… the totem from Hatashiganai. It mentions the blood sacrifices needed, shows a picture of a few crystals… she knits her brow. “I… I can’t let them keep doing this. I brought them a crystal, damn it. I need to get it back, if THIS is what it is powering.”

Determined to go through with this plan B now, and praying to Tarj it works, she folds up the note and stuffs it deep into her pocket. She takes her rope and slings it over her shoulder, and takes a dagger in each hand. Exhaling, she heads for the door and opens it.

Going down the hallway, she meets no one else. She heads up the stairs, to the door she got to before. Gritting her teeth, she slams the door open.

Stepping out into the bright sunlight outside, Delilah looks around. (medium perception check).

Miles, and miles…. Everywhere… is just water. They are over the middle of the Perretic Ocean.

The ship does not seem designed with any extra one-man vessels to escape with. But she does notice several cultists milling about, who were taking orders, stop dead in their tracks…looking at her now.

She takes a deep breath and smiles as best she can. (high persuasion check). She holds up the daggers with her hands loosely, fingers splayed in a type of non-threatening manner.

“H…Happy isn’t so… Happy anymore.” She looks around at each of them. “I w…ant to t…talk to the boss.”

A cold, cool voice sounds above and behind Delilah. “We can’t seem to keep you caged up, can we… little mouse?”

A chill runs up her spine, but she turns to look up at the head cultist again. Her face is set with determination, and she shrugs her shoulders in a somewhat mocking way.

He looks down his nose at her. “I don’t like to be… insulted. Do I?” He looks around at the other cultists nearby. They all start mumbling “No, no. Not at all.” And he smiles again.

She swallows the lump in her throat, still holding her daggers loosely and unthreateningly. “Happy w…was insulting. He w…was nothing.” (high persuasion/intimidation roll). “I re…request to b…be put in his place.”

He sneers, highly amused at her gumption. He seems intrigued. “You want to join with us, then? We will have to see about that... I may be the captain of this ship, but you will need to speak with my commander.”

Looking finished with their conversation, he says, “You should get some sleep… until we get there, little mouse. Then we can discuss your… dedication.” He says the word with a dripping venom. “We’ll have someone go with you again to your room.”

She tries to keep from shaking, and attempts to be equally intimidating. (High intimidate roll)

“As long as y…you ca..can send someone competent this time.” She says in her raspy voice, a little smirk twitching on her lips.

A gleam enters his eye, even more amused now. Snapping his fingers, he has a fellow come up to him. “Yes Cyrus?” the man replies.

“Take over the helm for me for a bit… I shall be… attending to our guest for a while.”

Her blood runs cold again, and her hands feel sweaty. She didn’t intend for HIM to come in with her. “Crap…” she thinks to herself. “Maybe I can use this to my advantage… I have to try.”

He jumps down with ease to the lower deck from his vantage point by the helm. He lands right behind her and Delilah stiffens, trying to remain steadfast. Cyrus snaps his fingers again, and four cultists approach them in a circle.

“You should take it easy,” he says. She feels a tickling in her mind, but shakes it off. (high wis save roll). Delilah gives him a look over her shoulder, showing whatever happened didn’t affect her. She notices his hand on her shoulder, glowing a vivid, sickly green.

“I see you have a resilient mind, little mouse.” He says with a poisonous smile. She smiles back, trying to meet his intimidating look. “I’ve d…dealt with that b…efore.”

He nods to the cultists, and two come up on each side to relieve her of Happy’s daggers. She peaceably lets them go. Cyrus hisses in her ear. “Let’s go back down and have a little… chat.” Her plastered smile turns into a bit of a grimace, and she tries to steel herself for whatever is about to happen. (low cha save against his intimidate).

They go back down into the hold to the holding cell. He pushes the door open. “Ladies first,” he sneers. Delilah walks in, trying not to shake, and mocks back, “S…orry I di…didn’t have time to clean up… I wasn’t e…expecting company.” She leans against the metal table, watching him.

He chuckles slightly. “Oh, Happy… I see. Tsk.” He walks in, eyeing her like a hawk.

“So you want to become one of us?” He ponders it. “I’ll allow it and believe it once we get there. Once you talk to… Oregg.” His eyes are cold and calculating. “You have to give your life, your soul, your whole essence to Mephistopheles. THEN… I’ll believe it.”

Delilah gives a stiff nod, feeling a heavy weight in her soul thinking of Tarj, her promises to her God, to herself… She tries to keep her expression blank.

Cyrus looks back at the dead cultist. “…How’d you do it?” He looks up at her again.

She looks at Happy on the floor, and gives a little shrug. She holds up her hands, saying, “I c…an’t use magic like you…”

(failed wis saving throw) Delilah immediately feels a compulsion enter her mind, flickering through her consciousness. Although she absolutely hates this man in front of her, suddenly… he feels… more agreeable. He will be a new co-worker soon, won’t he…? Her expression softens to a peaceable smile.

“I’d like to ask again…” he smiles back. “How did you kill him?”

She looks confused a moment, and then takes the rope from her shoulder. She holds it in her hands. “I…. tied him up.” She looks at him on the floor. “He w..was throwing his da…gger and it stabbed him.” She shrugs.

Cyrus is surprised, and looks intensely suspicious. “Let me see the rope, please.” He holds his hand out to her. She looks at it, and calmly passes the rope to him. Deep in her mind her subconscious is screaming, trying to fight its way out… but can’t.

The leader looks over the rope, turning it in his hands with almost a child-like wonder. “How does it work?”

She cocks her head again. “I t…alk to it an..and it listens. It was given t..to me as a g…gift.”

“Surely.” He says coldly. “What do you say to it?”

Delilah stares at him for a long moment. “Greatness.”

He looks at it, holding it close to his face, and says… “Greatness.”

It slowly snakes and coils around her, and she holds her hands out, feeling the rope. He watches her.

“What do you say to stop it?”

“Undying,” she says, and the rope falls limp in her hands, the rest falling to the floor. (rolls wis save, succeeds). Delilah suddenly blinks away the stupor, her eyes darting between Cyrus and the rope. Without any further hesitation, she yells, “Greatness!!”

The rope springs to life again with a renewed vigor and coils around him, up his body and neck. His eyes glow immediately with a bright red light, and he speaks in an infernal tongue. (she fails a wis save)

Delilah’s body immediately stiffens with magic, bound and held even more still than the paralysis poison from the daggers.

Cyrus glares at her. “Greatness.” He says again. The rope returns to coil around her upper arms and body, avoiding her hands, pinning her in place.

He then speaks in her mind, in a common tongue, saying, “Oh great Lord of Terra, heart of our hearts…. Joy of our joys…”

A cruel, harsh voice echoes in her mind along with Cyrus now. “Stop patronizing me.” It hisses, almost vibrating and shaking with power. The voice of Mephistopheles.

It continues, “Who is this here? Why do you call me?”

“Here is your next sacrifice, my Lord….”

The voice seems pleased. “Good.”

(she fails her int save horribly)

The word resonates like an earthquake, fracturing, literally breaking Delilah’s mind with its power and evil. Madness seeps into her consciousness. Without any further resistance or thoughts of her own, she simply begins snickering, giggling… rocking her head back and forth, and repeating one word over and over again.

“Greatness.”