A loud noise once again rings through the square, but this time it is a more familiar noise – the ringing of church bells. The enormous bronze bell in the high tower tolls twice, immediately drawing the attention of most of the village inhabitants towards the church.
The doors of the church are open, and a short, clean shaven man with jet black hair, wearing a simple black robe stands in the doorway, flanked by the soldier who entered the church a few moments ago. There is a suggestion of other figures behind them, but it is hard to make out the dark interior of the church from the bright sunlight outside.
“My people,” the priest calls out in a surprisingly loud voice for one of his short stature, “ there is no need to fear. The witch has not escaped. She will be put to death as Arton wishes it. There is no fire … as yet.”
As if on cue, the doors of the constabulary open, and a procession marches out. A soldier leads towards the timber platform in the square. Behind him, a male and female soldier lead a woman between them. She is small and slight, dressed in the ragged remains of a woolen gown. Her long dark hair is in disarray, unbound and hanging over her face. Her hands are tied behind her back and she hobbles awkwardly on bare and bloodied feet, and there is a gag in her mouth.
Three more soldiers with spears hurry to position themselves between the pyre and the bulk of the crowd, whilst two men in brown uniforms and less armor than the other soldiers hurry towards the south of the square with the soldier who previously remained outside the church. The tall soldier remains on guard outside the constabulary.
The priest begins walking towards the platform, still speaking strongly. “This woman has been found guilty of crimes against Arton, against the Empire, and against this village. She will pay for her crimes.”
Troy answers "Alright" and walks over towards the wood pile, noting Keildrithe speaking with the old man.
At the wood pile, he gives the two lads constructing the pyre a reassuring smile; no reason to harm them. He makes certain to face the constabulary, expecting to see more guards at any time. Meanwhile, he'll try to sway the milling villagers to be calm and have pity for the accused.
"Good people, please!" he raises his voice to be heard. "Gosia Troskie needs your sympathy now. She is a part of your community, and a gentle soul. None of us truly believes her to be a murderer. Give the girl a few days, and the true villains will be found and put to justice!"
Hoping that anyone who might currently be staying at the inn is out in the square, Laithe moves quickly into the room which would afford him the clearest view of the pyre and area immediately around it.
He gives the room a quick scan to ensure it is clear and moves quickly over to the window, opening the shutters and looking out at the square below.
He watches with interest as the doors open and the priest comes forth, but his features quickly turn to a scowl upon hearing the priest's speech. He pulls out his sling and a handful of stones and places them nearby, within easy reach.
As the priest finishes his speech, Laithe scans the square, taking in the guards - at first glance he counts 6 guards with or close to the witch & priest, 1 at the constabulary, 3 (including the 2 lighter armoured men) to the South of the square. He takes a closer look to see if there are any he has missed. He also tries to determine the best escape route, and if there are any trees or other plants present in the square or the streets leading away from it.
Seeing Troy step forward and speak, Laithe returns his attnetion to the sling bullets laid out before him and mutters "Ehlonna of the forests, may you bless these stones that they strike true and hard". He touches three of the stones and they glow briefly with the power imbued in them.
Seeing that the crowd is not in the mood for entertainment I attempt to melt into the shadows behind the priests and draw my weapons. As I take the hilt of my dagger and rapier into hand my finger rests on a small embossed symbol. "May fortune favor us." I say and prepare to have to go into battle.
Jirkin walks up toward where the woman is about to be burn Jirkin says to himself quietly " She doesn't deserve this... what do i do! Jirkin raise your family honor...no
“Gosia is a symbol of the old ways. That’s why she is being put to death. In some ways, you and I are similar symbols too…” He sighs again. “Whatever you choose Storyteller, I will help if I can. I have lived long, and I believe you will do the right thing.”Old man Relyin’s thin voice is becoming hard to hear over the noises of the crowd.
Still holding the old man's hand, Keildrithe turns his head at the sound of the procession entering the square. He then turns his head to face the elder again, squeezing his gnarled hands harder. Keildrithe then leans in and quickly murmurs the following to old man Relyin:
"Though I pray to all the gods that we are wrong, I fear that what you say is true. Your faith and counsel mean everything to me, venerated elder. Now I beg you pray for me, for I am far less of a man than my father was, and Terror threatens to silence me. But I must speak... for the sake of Gosia, I must speak... for the sake of our people, I must speak... lest a deeper darkness be allowed to set its roots in Barg..."
Keildrithe releases the old man's hands and rises. He closes his eyes and hums a few rhymes in a tongue that was ancient when the Karands were yet to bloom upon the earth, words that conjure images of sparrows soaring through the dawn in full chorus, through the morning mists that caress a placid, aqueous mirror... As he hums his tune, his unruly hair straigtens somewhat and his face takes on a peaceful expression and healthy glow.
His nerves steadied, Keildrithe unshoulders his pack, and pulls his cherished beldach out of it. He then hoists his pack again, over the sword that is sheathed on his back.
Keildrithe steps confidently out of the shadow of the Crow's Call, stares with contempt at the approaching procession, and then scans the square for a spot near the back of the crowd that is furthest from the constabulary and the holy guard (not more than 90' away from the pyre, and which ideally would provide him with easily accessible higher ground and an escape route).
Beldach in one hand, double-headed mallet in the other, he starts moving discretely into position, ready to start beating his drum...
"Good people, please!" he raises his voice to be heard. "Gosia Troskie needs your sympathy now. She is a part of your community, and a gentle soul. None of us truly believes her to be a murderer. Give the girl a few days, and the true villains will be found and put to justice!"
At your words, a few members of the crowd nod and murmer. Others look down at the ground, ashamed, whilst yet more give you hostile stares.
It seems that your words have at least gotten some folk to thinking – at least until the priest and soldiers emerge.
As the priest finishes his speech, Laithe scans the square, taking in the guards - at first glance he counts 6 guards with or close to the witch & priest, 1 at the constabulary, 3 (including the 2 lighter armoured men) to the South of the square. He takes a closer look to see if there are any he has missed. He also tries to determine the best escape route, and if there are any trees or other plants present in the square or the streets leading away from it.
The innkeeper half heartedly calls to you as you dash through the common room, but does not pull himself away from watching the spectacle in the square through the unshuttered front window.
Reaching the room and scanning the square below, you see the soldiers you mentioned, with the one soldier and two constables heading out of the square along the southern street. Looking further south you notice another soldier in the south watch tower, his bow nocked, looking intently in the direction of the square.
There is not much greenery around, although some small trees line the streets to the south and north west.
Seeing that the crowd is not in the mood for entertainment I attempt to melt into the shadows behind the priests and draw my weapons. As I take the hilt of my dagger and rapier into hand my finger rests on a small embossed symbol. "May fortune favor us." I say and prepare to have to go into battle.
You manage to slip into the early morning shadows on the western side of the town hall building, in the three foot wide space between the large building and a smaller shop-front beside.
You face the square and the platform – the priest and soldiers have their backs to you – and you doubt that you can be seen in the deep shadows.
Jirkin walks up toward where the woman is about to be burn Jirkin says to himself quietly " She doesn't deserve this... what do i do! Jirkin raise your family honor...no
The three guards rush past your temporary hiding place into a street to the south, searching for the source of the “fire” without seeing you.
You slip into the crowd, making your way towards the front and the pyre. A few people start and recoil at your mask , but most are too intent on proceedings to pay you much attention.
Keildrithe steps confidently out of the shadow of the Crow's Call, stares with contempt at the approaching procession, and then scans the square for a spot near the back of the crowd that is furthest from the constabulary and the holy guard (not more than 90' away from the pyre, and which...
Jirkin walks up toward where the woman is about to be burn Jirkin says to himself quietly " She doesn't deserve this... what do i do! Jirkin raise your family honor...noThe three guards rush past your temporary hiding place into a street to the south, searching for the source of the “fire” without seeing you.
You slip into the crowd, making your way towards the front and the pyre. A few people start and recoil at your mask , but most are too intent on proceedings to pay you much attention.
Keildrithe steps confidently out of the shadow of the Crow's Call, stares with contempt at the approaching procession, and then scans the square for a spot near the back of the crowd that is furthest from the constabulary and the holy guard (not more than 90' away from the pyre, and which...
Keildrithe walks, ghostlike, toward the back of the crowd, near the southwest corner of the square (perhaps 15' from the outer edge of the square, near the spot where the southwest street emerges onto the square). He tries to position himself in such a way that the buildings on the south side of the square will shield him from the archer in the south tower.
As he advances, Keildrithe calls out: "Good people, what the stranger says is true! We must have sympathy for poor Miss Gosia! Turn your backs on her... and who will come to your aid when it is your turn to be found guilty of sin or witchcraft? Mark my words, that day will come if you do nothing today to prevent her buring! Devout father, the people of Barg beg for Arton's mercy... I myself pledge to find the evil that stalks our woods and slays our children, so that Miss Gosia's life may be spared... for she is guilty of no such crime... Should I fail in this task, I shall forfeit my life to Arton, if it be his will that somebody die... But the people wish for peace, not bloodshed and divisiveness... what say you, people of Barg? What say you, obedient father?"
Keildrithe starts beating his drum very gently, in such a way that it is barely audible. While he keeps his stare fixed on the priest, he glances out of the corners of his eyes to ensure that no one is sneaking up on him from behind.
I begin to slowly move closer to the priest from behind, trying not to attract attention to myself.
Looking further south you notice another soldier in the south watch tower, his bow nocked, looking intently in the direction of the square.
Cursing softly under his breath, Laithe turns his attention to the bowman to the south, trying to estimate the distance himself between the marksman.
He then says another quick prayer to Ehlonna "Lady, if I am going to have any chance with this shot, I'm going to need your guidance".
I begin to slowly move closer to the priest from behind, trying not to attract attention to myself.
My take was this: Alton slipped behind the priest and soldiers as they made their way from the church (in the east) to the platform (in the north) and turned to face the crowd (facing south) - therefore Alton slipped behind them (At the north edge of the square, near the town hall).
He then hid, the nearest good hiding place to his location being a narrow alley at the west side of the town hall (but still near the centre of the north edge of the square).
I know, its easy for me, much harder for you guys. Feel free to keep asking for clarifications on things.
Keildrithe’s words ring out clearly and strongly throughout the square, accompanied by the almost subliminal beat of his hand drum.
Most in the crowd turn at his melodious words, and he can see that his words have had an effect. People nod or let out affirmative exclaimations. “Do we really know it was her? Why did we not witness the trail? She has been good to the people of Barg!”
Keildrithe feels that he has some good two thirds of the crowd on his side, though the remainder look at him with venomous glances, or look towards the priest, Padre Jalun, with expectation.
Whilst the bard has been speaking, Padre Jalun and his guardian have made their way up the short flight of timber steps to the five foot high platform. The three guards at the front of the crowd shift uneasily and tighten the grips on their weapons. The two who had been preparing to tie Gosia to the stake appear to be arguing quietly between themselves – perhaps swayed by Keildrithe’s words?
“My people,” begins the padre again. “Do not pay heed to this outlander. Arton offers you guidance now. Will you turn against the judgement of the Church? And indeed the Empire’s justice?” His voice sounds harsh and ugly compared to the bard, and although he gets a few ragged cheers from members of the crowd, few are swayed by him.
Scuffles and arguments begin to break out within the crowd. It appears things are about to turn ugly.
There is movement at the open door of the church, and a tall, thin man in the simple brown robes of a travelling friar steps out into the sunlight. He has deeply tanned and lined skin, thinning grey hair and a hawklike nose. His fingers drum at the handle of a heavy mace in his belt, and an ostentatious silver star of Arton hangs at his breast. The glimmer of mail can be seen beneath his robe.
The man steps forward a pace and then pauses, taking in the scene.
Laithe, Elhonna would truly need to be with you to make that shot. Probably three range increments, and the soldier has partial cover from the wooden upstand around the tower’s crows nest.
My take was this: Alton slipped behind the priest and soldiers as they made their way from the church (in the east) to the platform (in the north) and turned to face the crowd (facing south) - therefore Alton slipped behind them (At the north edge of the square, near the town hall).
He then hid, the nearest good hiding place to his location being a narrow alley at the west side of the town hall (but still near the centre of the north edge of the square).
I know, its easy for me, much harder for you guys. Feel free to keep asking for clarifications on things.
“My people,” begins the padre again. “Do not pay heed to this outlander. Arton offers you guidance now. Will you turn against the judgement of the Church? And indeed the Empire’s justice?” His voice sounds harsh and ugly compared to the bard, and although he gets a few ragged cheers from members of the crowd, few are swayed by him.
"If the Empire's Justice is to burn the innocent without proof of their crimes, if the church no longer serves the people, and if Arton insists that we treat each other barbarically, then yes, the people must resist the edicts of the church! Let all bear witness that I offered compromise!"
Keildrithe beats his beldach more forcefully and with increasingly complex rythms, intoning verses in an odd, yet strangely familiar and disarming pattern. He fixes his intense gaze and directs his words -- thus far spoken in Atuscan -- at Padre Jalun:
Hear me, o hear the voice of wisdom
Hear me, voice of this dying kingdom
Your eyes see only me...
Your eyes see only me...
Gosia must go free...
Arton set her free...
Now directly behind the platform I prepare to draw both of my weapons and murmur another prayer for luck.
At the odd yet mesmerising rhythm of Keildrithe’s words, the eyes of Padre Jalun seem to glaze over, and he stares, transfixed at the bard, not uttering another word. The crowd too is for the most part silent, staring in wonder at the apparent battle of wills between the two men.
This silence continues for but a few seconds before it is shattered by a shouted command of “Enough!” from the brown robed newcomer.
“Enough.” He says again more quietly, the eyes of the crowd drawn towards him. “Oldsun here,” he says, gesturing towards the bard, who’s name he seems to know although Keildrithe is ignorant of him, “claims that the judgement of the Church, and of the Baron, has been in error in this matter.
“Know you all that Arton is perfect, and therefore never wrong!” He pauses for effect, as the crowd collectively holds its breath and the soldiers tense for action. “But … at times his mortal servants can be … wrong. Although I strongly suggest that all the evidence in this case points towards Gosia Troskie being a witch, a worshipper of fiends, and the slayer of four of your daughters – perhaps something has been overlooked.
“Oldsun, you say you can find the true killer, and if you cannot you will stand in this girl’s stead? I find that – almost – acceptable. You have a week. If, by sunrise next Highday you have not convinced me, have not found evidence to convince me that Miss Troskie did not kill those girls – then both yourself and her shall burn.
“Are you agreed? Do you all agree,” he motions to the crowd, “at the wisdom of both Keildrithe Oldsun and the Church of Arton in this matter?”
There is a murmur of assent from the crowd.
“Until that time, Miss Troskie will remain in the custody of the constables, although you may talk to her to assist in your investigation if the need should arise. Now, is there any here who will stand with you, who will assist you in championing the wi – ah, young woman?”
He turns to the crowd. “There will be no burning today. Padre Jalun will be holding his service in the church immediately.” People start, as if shaking off a spell. A few begin to move hesitantly towards the church, looking between Keildrithe, Jalun and the newcomer as if waiting for anything else to happen.
Well, Troy was thrilled with the news. He had stuck his neck out to defend the lass, and now even if the criminal wasn't found right away, he wasn't being held responsible. He slipped away from the throng and moves toward Keildrithe, giving a small salute by touching his fingers briefly to his hat.
"Well done, musician. I'll be happy to bring the truth of this mistake to light with you. If you didn't catch it before, my name is Troy Kamgul. Well met."
Good job you two, i see you did very well in helping that poor woman, People call me..." Jirkin pauses for a second. "My name is Roy Jinkins"
I take my hands off of the hilts of my weapons and walk to where my companions are standing. Hearing 'Roy Jenkin' introduce himself I become a little suspicious, theres something about his face and voice that tells me he isn't being entirley honest. "I prefer to know the real names of those with whom I adventure. Tell us 'Roy Jenkin' what is your real name. I am not one who appreciates being lied to." Once again my hands are resting on the hilts of my weapons.
[ooc]Yes my action remains the same. Sense Motive 13 (10+3).)
Jirkin then walks up to the people(Troy and Alton)
Jirkin then walks up to the people(Troy and Alton)
I take my hands off of the hilts of my weapons and walk to where my companions are standing. Hearing 'Roy Jenkin' introduce himself I become a little suspicious, theres something about his face and voice that tells me he isn't being entirley honest. "I prefer to know the real names of those with whom I adventure. Tell us 'Roy Jenkin' what is your real name. I am not one who appreciates being lied to." Once again my hands are resting on the hilts of my weapons.
Jirkin looks at the ground, "um... i..i guess you found me out,"[ooc] only can see the right side of his face frowning. Jirkin then looks around as if he were looking for someone.Jirkin then whispers so only the people he wants to hear his name "People call me Jirkin Faluen" He picks his head up to see if anyone was watching him or if they could ear him.
He picks his head up to see if anyone was watching him or if they could ear him.
Keildrithe had positioned himself a little away from the bulk of the crowd - and people have begun to distance themselves from your little group lest they also get implicated with volounteering to help the witch ... so you doubt anyone else would have heard you, although much of the crowd is watching your group.
At the brown robed man's words, the "witch" - Gosia - looks up from where she is still held between the two guards. Her cheeks are tear stained, but she looks thankfully towards Keildrithe and the others. She has exotic green eyes, delicate features, and as her hair falls away from her face it can be seen that her ears are slightly pointed.
Laithe watches the battle of wills unfolding before him with fascination, holding his sling at the ready, but unwilling to break the spell which Keildrithe so skillfully wields.
The arrival of the travelling padre troubles Laithe more than a little and he studies the man closely to see if he recognises him. Something about the man strikes him as dangerous - there seems to be more than the simple robes he wears is letting on.
As his word ring out and he offers Keildrithe this deal, Laithe finds himself even more troubled. He is relieved that the encounter has been avoided, but he is suspicious of the motives of the padre. Laithe lingers a little longer at the window sill, studying him.
He then packs up his gear, says a quick prayer to Ehlonna, and quietly closes the window. Despite his remaining uneasiness, the tension that had built throughout the encounter began to ease and he makes his way slowly downstairs.
On his way through the common room, he says a quick apology to the innkeeper, mumbling something about needing a better vantage point, and handing him over a few copper pieces for the inconvenience. He then heads to the door, and seeing the men standing with Keildrithe, pauses once more and scans the crowd to see if he can see the padre and what he is doing?
I look somewhat less suspicious, although I still ask "Why did you conceal your name?"
I look somewhat less suspicious, although I still ask "Why did you conceal your name?"
"The Faluens is not a good name to have right now, my family has too many rumors in it... bad rumors that i plan to seek out more information on. I will tell you more later on, that is unless you want to hear about my whole life story...but i can't say it in an open area, or i will be the one up here.(the square where the burning was about to happen) I will be glad to help find the real witch and i may be able to find some answers too."
I accept Jirkin's answer and ask "How shall we proceed? I suggest that we investigate the woods around where the girl's bodies were found. First however I beleive that we should interview Miss Gosia."
As his word ring out and he offers Keildrithe this deal, Laithe finds himself even more troubled. He is relieved that the encounter has been avoided, but he is suspicious of the motives of the padre. Laithe lingers a little longer at the window sill, studying him.
Your suspicion that the friar’s motives are not altruistic may or may not be unfounded, but given the language barrier and the distance, it is difficult to read him from here. One thing you do notice, the man is (or believes himself to be) in some sort of position of authority over the village priest.
You make your way back downstairs and out into the square.
I accept Jirkin's answer and ask "How shall we proceed? I suggest that we investigate the woods around where the girl's bodies were found. First however I beleive that we should interview Miss Gosia."
Right at this instant she is still being restrained by two guards in the middle of the square, bound and gagged. However, the friar intimated that she would be imprisoned at the constabulary. Indeed, her guards look like they are making ready to drag her back in that direction.
Just a quick summary of everyone’s location and appearance:
The following characters are now gathered at the south west end of the square, slightly apart from the crowd:
Alton: A three foot three halfling with black hair and blue eyes, wearing a tunic and breeches under a cloak, and armed with a thin, ornate looking sword. He speaks in Atuscan.
Jirkin: A short, slim man, his features obscured by a white half mask which obscures the left side of his face, and a hooded cloak. A carries a quarterstaff.
Keildrithe: only slightly taller and less slim than Jirkin, with green eyes, unruly brown hair and several day’s stubble on his chin, dressed in leather armor under his black cloak. He carries a small hand drum and wears a sword strapped on his back.
Troy: a lean, clean shaven man with long red hair, wearing studded leather armour and with a sheathed sword and dagger at his belt.
Laithe (a tall man with messy greying hair, wearing hide armour and carrying a spear) is just emerging from the inn at the west side of the square.
The village priest and most of the soldiers (and Gosia) are clustered around the platform and pyre at the northern side of the square. The brown robed newcomer, the friar, is standing outside the church near the centre of the east side of the square.
The red-haired sell-sword gestures to the woman Gosia again and quickly speaks up so that the guards and perhaps the priest can hear him. "We'll need to speak with the lass, and to get her permission to search her property."
Laithe now leaves the entrance of the pub and moves over to where the group stands. He reaches out and clasps Keildrithe by the arm - "that was some performance" he says "if all my bumbling efforts at getting my message through to people only reached one person, I'm glad it was you".
He turns to Jirkin and holds out his hand, introducing himself "I am Laithe. If you are willing to help in our efforts to vindicate Gosia, then I thank you. We can use all the help we can get."
At the sound of Troy's voice, addressing the priest, Laithe turns with him, standing by his side and folding his arms, adding silent support.
I smile charmingly in a way that implies we are trustworthy and say "We really must speak to Miss Gosia if we want to complete our investigation and end this whole unpleasant affair over with in a satisfactory manner. Please, let us speak to Miss Gosia and we will be on our way."
The brown robed priest smiles – it is not a pleasant smile in any way. He gestures to three of the soldiers, who join him as he walks to within a few yards of where your small group stands. The crowd of villagers filing towards the church give him and his escort a wide berth.
“So, the five of you will stand for the woman,” he states, eyes hooded. You catch a glimpse of his crooked, yellowing teeth as he speaks.
“Yes, of course you may speak to her, I would not wish to hamper your investigation in any way. But of course, you understand my concern. If – if – I am right and she is indeed a foul witch, we would not want her bewitching the good citizens of this place, would we? You may speak to her back in her cell, for the safety of all, including yourselves. No, no, do not be concerned, we shall not attempt to detain you, you may come and go as you wish, you have my word.” He eyes your weapons, amused. “Besides, I am sure you would put in a good showing should anyone attempt any foul play.”
Behind him, two of the guards are already escorting the limping woman back towards the constabulary.
Laithe holds the padres gaze for a while, and then responds "thankyou, padre ...?" pausing for the priest to fill in a name, if he's inclined to.
He then turns to the group and says, loud enough to be heard by the priest "well, we've got 7 days to find the real murderer, so let's get started". Turning once more, Laithe walks purposefully past the priest and towards the constabulary moving to catch up with Gosia and the guards who accompany her.
Troy follows in behind, to join them in the constabulary for a session of questioning.
The man looks closely at Laithe, eyes narrowed.
“The correct title is Inquisitor actually … Inquisitor Vorn.” He motions for the guards to let you past to the constabulary if you wish.
You get the distinct impression that this is a man who gives little away. What you “sense” from him is probably exactly what he wants you to see.
Still, his actions may have helped prevent a riot, or one of the Barony soldiers doing something stupid. He knows that many of the villagers were swayed by Keildrithe’s words, and it seems unlikely that he would try to backstab or detain you at this point.
The man looks closely at Laithe, eyes narrowed.
Laithe flinches visibly upon hearing the title of Inquisitor:
His heart quickens, his fists clenche and knuckles whiten, and so he moves with purpose past the Inquisitor, knowing that now is not the time to undo Keildrithe's good work, but steeling himself for a shout or attack at his vulnerable back.
As he moves to catch up with Gosia however, his mind races - was this the man who slaughtered his people?
As Troy catches up, Laithe continues to walk but speaks quietly to him "This is more serious than I thought; we cannot trust this man. And I fear Gosia may not have 7 days as promised - nor may we for that matter. We will need to be on guard at all times."
Laithe now leaves the entrance of the pub and moves over to where the group stands. He reaches out and clasps Keildrithe by the arm - "that was some performance" he says "if all my bumbling efforts at getting my message through to people only reached one person, I'm glad it was you".
He turns to Jirkin and holds out his hand, introducing himself "I am Laithe. If you are willing to help in our efforts to vindicate Gosia, then I thank you. We can use all the help we can get."
At the sound of Troy's voice, addressing the priest, Laithe turns with him, standing by his side and folding his arms, adding silent support.
Jirkin looks at Laithe's hand, then shakes it, looks to be laughter on Jirkin's face "I am Jirkin"
The brown robed priest smiles – it is not a pleasant smile in any way. He gestures to three of the soldiers, who join him as he walks to within a few yards of where your small group stands. The crowd of villagers filing towards the church give him and his escort a wide berth.
“So, the five of you will stand for the woman,” he states, eyes hooded. You catch a glimpse of his crooked, yellowing teeth as he speaks.
“Yes, of course you may speak to her, I would not wish to hamper your investigation in any way. But of course, you understand my concern. If – if – I am right and she is indeed a foul witch, we would not want her bewitching the good citizens of this place, would we? You may speak to her back in her cell, for the safety of all, including yourselves. No, no, do not be concerned, we shall not attempt to detain you, you may come and go as you wish, you have my word.” He eyes your weapons, amused. “Besides, I am sure you would put in a good showing should anyone attempt any foul play.”
Behind him, two of the guards are already escorting the limping woman back towards the constabulary.
Jirkin heads in the back making sure that the guuards don't plan a surprize attack,