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Jarvyk Entry 19
14 Flocktime, 592 CY
Rumors and shadowed deeds run rampant in Cauldron, threatening to unravel the tenuous peace only recently established. It would appear that those who seek a harmonious, if not silent, solution to the deep seeded unrest are at great risk.
We learned this evening of Maavu Arlintal’s arrest and subsequent passage into the hands of the Magical Threats Agency. It was widely circulated that evidence, incriminating Maavu in some obvious way, had been discovered following a bar brawl. The details of that evidence, however, are still noticeably unavailable. This leads me to a series of uncomfortable suspicions. Suffice it to say that someone, or something, likely brought Maavu back to Cauldron, from Redgorge, in order to set him up for arrest; and that the intentions behind such actions are unknown to all but a few. We seek those few.
For now, we must also keep our senses attuned to the treachery within our own house. While the walls of Cauldron ebb and flow with political maneuvering so too does the house of the Silver Phoenix. Kort, as trustworthy as any among us, has found the ring of Alek Tercival to be missing from his office. With news of Alek’s demise burning through the streets, and access to Kort’s office limited to all but a few, a great concern of loyalty arises. Unless we have been set upon by some very well informed and skilled force of shadowed usurpers, a rat lives among us. This too shall be at the forefront of my personal agenda.
[the following passage appears to be equal parts ink and blood]
Fire rained from above this evening as the house of the Silver Phoenix resonated with murderous intent. Immediately following the discovery of Alek’s missing ring, as Kort and Karamus stood near to me beyond the threshold of Kort’s office, a band of assassins lashed out from the shadows at our feet. As they did, a silence befell our great room and Bransen’s life was nearly extinguished by a crazed half-orc with ensorcelled movement and furious steel.
The attacker floated from the balcony above as though the air itself had purchase. This directed our attention to that landing, where two other assailants were plainly visible. One shot Bransen several times, and deeply. Our fortunate, confused emissary of luck seemed to be falling before our eyes had time even to react.
Karamus moved quickly to mount a counter offensive, striking the half-orc warrior decidedly. Ashton retreated to what safety he could find, escaping the magical silence, while Bransen uttered a few words before redoubling his bravery and entrenching his stance. We were all caught greatly unprepared. I found myself unarmored and dazed, for a moment, before Jarl’s words breached my senses and Tedryk’s Grace sprung into action. Kort, as brazen as ever, ran for the balcony. Our new friends, Kan’ti and Greyjek, exemplified their own individual talents; which do not appear to be combat related.
Only seconds into the assault Karamus was felled by a great slash from the half-orc. As he lay at my feet, dying, I struck with Tedryk’s Grace. The creature’s weapon was freed from its grasp, as it was itself immobilized. Seeing our opportunity, I retrieved and stowed the instrument of Karamus’s undoing then stepped back to assess the situation. With sound being blocked it was difficult to get a full sense of the battle. I could not tell what was going on in the balcony above, or behind me down the hallways and stairs.
Without a more reasonable target, and weighing the gravity of the situation, I suppressed my apprehension and continued assaulting the disabled half-orc. Flashes of light and blurs of directed pain kept me aware that other aspects of the encounter were not going as well. I focused on the task at hand and hoped that the Silver Phoenix would not fall this day. My brethren are strong and able in their own right; on that and Clanggedin I relied.
As fate, or luck, would have it Bransen was able to revive Karamus from a distance and with his aid we secured what could be reached from the ground. The giant half-orc, dead as far as we could see, hung there a few inches off the great table. Kort, attempting to secure the balcony, seemed to be in a similar situation. As I glanced up to assess the battlefield I noticed his axe dangling over the side of the railing, his hand slipping from its grip.
It was about then that things went still. After a few moments it became obvious that only the dead, immobilized, and dying remained. Judging from those bodies, and the events of the battle, a sorcerer or some kind escaped. Upon searching the manor it became clear that the broken widow at the end of the upstairs hallway must have been the entrance and escape point. Something else also began to sink in. We were prize targets for someone. This ambush was certainly well orchestrated and, one could assume, well funded. The kind of foes we experienced could not have been had cheaply. Their kind, rarely followers of those with minions, demand a premium for the destruction we saw.
Praise Clanggedin, Kort and the rest of the Silver Phoenix survived. Kan’ti, unfortunately I believe, appeared to be spooked by the encounter. Immediately following the battle his presence could not be found. Greyjek, who spent the majority of the fight in his room, seemed equally shaken.
The question on everyone’s mind would change everything about our path, “Who wants us dead and how do they know so much about us?” The next few days should prove telling, if not fatal.