As the words offered in answer to the forth and final question left the lips of the dead man the room fell silent. The body once again fell lifelessly to the table with a slight thud.
The priest of Pharasma, quickly gathered his belongings and left the room with haste, only stopping momentarily to offer a short bow of courtesy to the Baron and assembled Lords as he closed the door to the study shut behind him. He clearly wanted no part of the discussion that would soon take place.
The stunned countenances of the remaining men in the room revealed their internal turmoil. They had been betrayed. Betrayed by the guard sworn to protect the kingdom and their lives. Betrayed by one of the first and most notable of the city craftsmen. Possibly betrayed by a Lord on the high council.
Anger stirred within the Baron. Anger that he had at the very least shared a bed with the daughter of a cultist and at the worst a complicit member. He thought back to earlier in the day when Ella had entered the room to read him the missives of the day. He remembered the look on her face, wordlessly beckoning him to his bedchamer. The dress she wore has been slit down the front and as she leaned over to hand him the package of letters the curves of her body drew his eyes from the papers in hand. He set his jaw in anger as he wondered where the poison dagger may have been hidden in such a dress. Was it hidden in his bed? Had he taken her offer would the men of the watch found his lifeless body, throat slit lying dead like a fool?
The events of the last few days fueled the burning rage within him. He thought back to handing the sentence of death to the barbarian in the dungeon. He had been trapped by circumstance. Betrayed by trusted men around him. Forced once again to put the needs of the kingdom above his own concerns and values. He sat in the eye of a storm of chaos and discord.
Chase had let the prisoner escape without consulting him. Zuhair and his insolence. Fizzle was once again conspicuously absent. Betrayed by the Vains. Townspeople murdered. His every decision questioned. No clear answers.
As he lowered his gaze so as not to betray his growing rage he saw the blood dripping from his hands. His fingertips had transformed into razor sharp claws. He looked on in horror as the flesh of his hands was turning red and scaly in color and texture. He had been clenching his fists in anger and must have punctured his own flesh. Those wounds had been immediately healed over as the shredded flesh had been replaced by the red and hard textured hide slowly creeping up his arm. The moment he took notice, the progress of the transformation stopped and began to recede. He quickly folded his hands into his robe.
On several occasion, in moments of great duress, his claws had manifested in this manner, but never before had he seen his skin begin to transform into the red scaly hide he witnessed moments ago.
He raised his eyes to see if anyone in the room had noticed. All other heads were bowed in silent introspection....except for Chase. He returned the stare of the Tiefling and saw, as their eyes met, a momentary expression of shock move across his face. Raam blinked quickly and when their eyes met again Chase studied Raam's face for a moment and then his expression returned to it's normal state of dispassionate observation.
Taking a moment to steady himself, Raam inhaled deeply. He faintly tasted acrid smoke. He exhaled.
"Men" he said calmly and deliberately. "We have been betrayed. Those responsible shall pay dearly."
