[b]Set![/b]

"At once!" 'Jerry' manages to get up onto her knees, and sniffs with as much ragged dignity as she can muster in that position. "Brute! Stand aside, by order of Jerioth ab-Ishtar!" The troll gives the three of you a [i]look[/i], as much as something with such a craggy face can, and you can feel the slow rumble of its heart. (Trolls are difficult; their feelings are [i]solid[/i], very tricky to penetrate and understand.) Then, obediently it shuffles aside, its huge chain dragging noisily on the floor behind its foot. "Caphtor!"

[i]bing![/i] "Hello, my lady," Caphtor says, this piece of her more present and aware than usual. "Are you aware that you are restrained?"

"It's fashion," Jerioth sneers, punching down the only way she can; you can feel the angry, tearful spite radiating off her. "And I did not ask for your opinion. Shut your useless mouth and open the Nameless Library. The Inquisitor requires the volumes that we, blessed of Ishtar, keep out of the sight of the ignorant and the feeble-minded."

"The... Inquisitor?"

Jerry looks back behind her, expectantly. That's your cue!

***

[b]Marianne![/b]

Hah! Give Jerry the chance to put that mask back on over her face, that air of complete superiority, and she grabs it like she's drowning. Pathetic. Her bravado will melt when you lift that ruined veil off her face, fold it in fourths, and cup her chin in your hands. She'll beg you to have mercy, to give her even a slave's thick veil, but you will give her a kiss and tell her that she is to sing, little bird, sing a story of Ma-ri-Ann...

The troll watches you with those sullen red eyes. How do you feel about trolls? They're huge, most often used for construction work and to guard places like these, and one swipe of one of its hands could send you flying all the way across this hall. If Jerry found her courage, or a priestess happened to stumble in here in some grand comedy of errors, you would have one hell of a fight on your hands. But they're not vicious, the way a lot of the Salamanders are, just single-minded about carrying out their orders. If you didn't know better, if you hadn't heard them humming strange vibrational songs to themselves in the dark, you might even think they're just animals, or very strange robots.

***

[b]Canada![/b]

The janissaries raise muskets and fire. Or, at least, the two in the back try to, and are unpleasantly surprised when their muskets just make a low rattling sound of defeat. Those two see the melee that ensues around you and Jason and retreat to find reinforcements and working muskets; you would have been able to cut them off if this Salamander hadn't averted her eyes from your distracting face and grabbed you, shield and all, in a bear hug. Ugh, if word spreads that there were mechanical malfunctions with the weapons, your mild-mannered alter ego back home is going to [i]get[/i] it. Still worth it, but you'd hoped to avoid triggering that failsafe. Anyway, back to the Salamander: it takes a head-butt for her to loosen her grip, and by then Jason's already had his sword knocked out of his hand.

Take a Powerful Blow. This isn't the grand, dramatic sort of fight where you stagger back up and defiantly slam your shield into the ground, this is a chaotic, messy fight where the question isn't whether you'll win but how badly things are going to go south in the meantime.