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Before Miss Baltwin can respond, Edgar casts a quick look reward toward Valore. The youth knows the elf could aid in the investigation of this woman and help determine if these children are indeed being neglected, or even worse, in outright danger. Even earlier this day the youth had watched as Valore used cunning magic to grow his stature two-fold, showing he was more than capable of handling himself, and even more so, a confident weirder of the arcane.
These thoughts pass for Edgar in the blink of an eye, as his striking gaze seems to ask the unvoiced question, Why hold back from aiding the others?
A moment later and the youth has turned back and is once more awaiting Miss Baltwin's rebuttal.
A young girl with a dirt smeared face looks up at the oracle with a smile only a child could wield. "Yessir!" she says, looking from Ifran to Auntie Baltwin, then back to Ifran. She whispers, not as quietly as perhaps she had hoped "She can be a big meanie, but I was super sick when I came here, and now I'm better! I ain't got no parents, and she makes sure we eats good, long as we do our part."
She stands there with her hands behind her back, rocking back and forth with a huge smile on her face, waiting for the praise and affirmation that all children so desperately seek.
Bugdip hears the continued coughs and sniffles of children in the rooms upstairs as he walks deeper into the house. Meanwhile, Auntie Baltwin is exasperated on the front stoop. "You can't go in there! Who knows what kinds of frog disease you will pass to those children!" she shouts. She moves to cut Bugdip off, but becomes confused and spins in a circle when Nugats enters and goes in a different direction. Eventually she turns to respond to Edgar.
The look on her face is one of incredulity, of betrayal. "How... could.. you! Young Man! Fine! You've got me!" She says, looking to Bugdip and Edgar, hoping that this initial admission will get them to turn around.
Auntie Baltwin is used to herding cats and children, but appears to be flummoxed by her apparent lack of control of the suddenly intruding pathfinders as they scatter in her house and out front.
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"Well then, my lady," Edgar says coldly, staring at the woman as she turns to and fro, watching the scattering pathfinders. "It won't stop my friends from continuing their investigation, but you had probably better start talking to me about what they are going to find..."
The youth looks as Ifran begins speaking with a little girl in the front yard, and then turns back to Gigla Baltwin, his eyes locked on hers.
"Please don't fool yourself into thinking we owe you anything. Our allegiance here is to these children and verifying their safety. Speak if you wish, but no one is stopping their search."
"Continue on, my friends!" Edgar call loudly to the other pathfinders. "I"ll watch Miss Baltwin here, and listen to what she has to say. Search this place out and leave nothing hidden!"
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Once firmly inside her residence, Nugats heads towards what could only be described as her kitchen. There he begins to pull open larders and cabinets alike in search of his spoonful of sugar. He see various pots and pans, dishes, plates and spoons. Some items he takes and holds up to the light (not that he needs to) and some substances he touches to the tip of his tongue or raises it to his nostrils for a quick sniff.
He lays down on the floor, looing at the underside of the tables, turning the chairs over, and wiping is face on the different napkins found in the drawers.
Once he is finished, he sits down and wipes his forehead with the newfound napkin, "All the searching is exhausting work. Good thing they did notsend us to fight that dragon. Not sure that I am upto it."
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And just as commanded, Tybain pushes in, dodging the old lady. Something in the back of his skull tells him it's best that he stays clear of the children. But why is that? He's famous, they'd love to see him! Did something happen?
Instead, the man heads to the kitchen for investigations. He opens a the closets and cupboards, poking his head inside to see if there's anything suspicious.
Auntie Baltwin looks inscenced that she would be accused of doing anything to endanger the children. She fumes at Edgar, opening her mouth to say something, then closing it again. The cat has apparently gotten her tongue.
Finally she throws her hands up in the air, tears starting to well in her eyes.
"Fine! Enough! Enough! You have me. Sometimes I spend a little to much time with a bottle in my hand, or whiskey in my tea."
Her admission echoes down the halls just as Nugats and Tybain begin opening doors and drawers. To their surprise, (or perhaps not) they find a half-gone bottle of whiskey.
She gets down on her knees in front of Edgar, clutching his cloak in her hands and wiping her tears as she sobs at his feet. "I swear I would never hurt these children. I heal them, it's what I do. And I am very good at it. Parents bring their children from all over to have me help them! Sick kids come in, and they get healthy. Most of the kids just get dropped off by parents and they never come back to get them. So I take care of them, give them food and a place to live."
There is no doubt of the sincerity of her words and her admission from any who hear her.
Meanwhile, Ifran continues his conversation with the young girl out front, while the boys playing marbles just beyond them continue in their games, blissfully unaware of the presence of the pathfinders.
"Well ya see mister, she can get kinda cranky until she has her coffee. But she does tell really super awesome and funny bedtime stories! And the food she makes is sooooo yummy!"
Aside from the bottle of booze, Nugats and Tybain see a few cats meandering about the house, and several children running from room to room in an impromptu game of hide and seek. They turn up nothing else incriminating.
Bugdip does not find Alice, though it doesn't take him long to discern that she isn't there, and that the head mistress was lying to try to keep them out of the house. The reports of the sick children are indeed true, however, as he opens the door to a room containing a young boy with a pale face, and an empty bucket near his head. He appears to be quite sick, but not in dire straights.
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"Hello, young human tadpole," says Bugdip, unsure of a polite way to address a child, "I was wondering if Auntie Baldwin is treating you well and giving you the medicine you need to get better. We are here to help, so it is okay. You can tell me anything and I promise you will not get into trouble."
Bugdip still wants some assurances from the children, and he does not appreciate that Auntie Baldwin was lying about Alice.
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"Thank you telling us the truth, my lady," the youth says, keeping a steady eye on the woman. He believes her words to be true, but wonders if there could be any further omissions she is intentionally leaving out, as the conversation started with things left unsaid, Edgar cannot bring himself to trust her now. "You left out this information before... How can we trust you have not left something else out at this point?"
"It sounds like you try to do good work, and I'm sure tending for this many children is not easy, so no one would begrudge you having a difficult time of it. But we need to be sure there is not something worse yet to be uncovered."
"What you have admitted to here will be taken to Ollysta Zadtian, to be considered further, unless something worse is brought to light..."
"Yessir... Ahhh.. Mister Frog sir." The boy looks equally terrified and intrigued by the oversized amphibion in the room with him. "Momma said I was gunna die when she brought me here. Then Auntie Baltwin did something and made me feel better. I'm still sick, but Auntie Baltwin says I'll be all better in a few more days. I just hope mommy comes back to get me. Some of the other kids say that their mommies left them and never came back. I'm sure they are just busy. Mommy wouldn't leave me here alone, would she mister frog?"
Responding to Nugats, the woman, who is looking eye to eye with the gnome now that she is on her knees, "Well, heh... They are kids and there are a lot of them. Sometimes I need a drink or three to get through the day ya know? It ain't easy. But if you force me, I'll choose the kids. Go ahead, report what you must to the Silver Crusade. I'll pay my penance." Her voice trembles as she speaks.
"*cough* *cough* Well... I heard someone say that I was as good as dead. I'm not sure, it was so hot and everything was spinning and fuzzy. I think she gave me something icky to drink. It tasted like black licorice. I hate that stuff. I felt a lot better, but I'm still sick. Since then, she does this little sing-song chant thingy every morning, and I get a little bit better. Auntie Baltwin says that next week I will be good enough to go start working like the other kids!"
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"Can I ask you to say again what you just told my friend?" Edgar's voice calls out as he approaches Bugdip and the child. When Gilga would give he and his friends no new information and seemed to take a hard stance that her troubles with alcohol were the worst of her failings, Edgar decided to venture further into the orphanage to learn more. His ears perked at the mention to Bugdip of the children working. "You mentioned something about starting work next week?"
There is concern etched in his voice, but he does his best to contain the growing anger and frustration at Gigla Baltwin. He is afraid the child will take any hint of anger in his voice personally, as if Edger were upset with them, when that is the opposite of true. as young mister Blackwood only has concern for these children. "Can you tell me about the work you will do, and what work the others do?"
"I'd like it know anything you can tell me, don't be afraid to talk about it at all. If you'd rather, feel free to direct me to one of your friends that already works... and I can speak to them."
"Uh... sure." The boy looks scared, and suddenly clams up, pulling the covers halfway over his face as the frog and Edgar question him.
He points at the door, presumably towards someone else. Anyone else really as his shyness overwhelms him. In a blink, he buries himself under the covers and begins to sob.
"Enough enough enough you heathens!" Auntie Baltwin comes barreling into the room.
"If I've told you once, it seems I have to tell you a thousand times. He is sick! He came in with filth fever so terrible he nearly died. Medicine like you seem to be holding back from me saved his life. The Silver Crusade isn't the only place that gives me medicine, and this inquisition isn't worth endangering my children over. If this is what these kids must endure to get aid from your overzealous pathfinder society, then I "
Baltwin's bluster is quickly played out as she interposes herself between the boy and the pathfinders, then shoos them out of the room.
Auntie Baltwin pushes the pathfinders out the door, grabbing Nugats and Tybain from the kitchen. She grabs another empty bottle of whiskey from the sitting room and tosses it at them in a huff as they walk out the door. Just before one of them can turn around to say something, the door slams in their face, and the sound of a deadbolt and door chain can be heard sliding into place on the other side.
The awkwardness of the last exchange passes rather quickly as the pathfinders make their way back to Lady Ollysta and the Silver Crusade.
"Welcome back pathfinders. Tell me, Did the delivery go ok? What of Gigla Baltwin and her Home for Sick Kids?" she says in an even, assertive voice.
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"Auntie Baldwin is a drunk, a gambler, appears to be accepting payment for some kind of illicit service," Bugdip pauses to think of what else to say, "Oh, and she also seems to be using some kind of magic to cure the kids rather than use all the medicines provided. Maybe she's selling them. We suspect she may also be using the kids as free labor. I don't know if any of that is illegal, but I do not believe she is deserving of our medicine. Perhaps someone purer of heart would be best suited to run such an orphanage."
Bugdip shakes his head at the kinds of politics and situations that seem to be going on in a big city like Absalom. The sheer face that there is such a thing as an orphanage is so strange to him. Surely those tadpoles should be immediately adopted by another family.
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Tybain nods and shakes his head as the others speak, although it's quite hard to be sure on what parts he agrees to and which he doesn't.
One thing is certain: Tybain shall not be joining the Silver Crusade. Let others deliver parcels to gray old women, he will be looking into something more adventurous.
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"She seems to mean well, though. I mean, she does help the children, though I am unsure of what she is doing to send them out to do work. The children get healed... perhaps not as fast as the expensive medicines would heal them, but they are helped. She did smell of whiskey a little, though. She like playing cards as well." Ifran looks confused, and unsure of whether what he said made sense, or would help.
"Thank you, pathfinders. It seems I may need to get the authorities involved to ensure the children's safety. And perhaps our generosity is better served in other needy people's hands. And thank you for your honesty, Master Valore. Admitting to shortcomings takes as much courage, or more, than facing off evil denziens of the nine hells." Lady Ollysta gives a polite bow, and then excuses herself to address the issues the group has brought to her attention.
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Returning with the others, Nugats reflect upon the tasks he was sent upon. Retrieving a crate, solving a puzzle, wrangling an imp, and most importantly, helping children.
Was Auntie all that bad? Didn't she do good? Is it wrong to take a drink every now and again? Somehow pieces had escaped him. He didn't like that.
"These challenges have left me with more questions than answers. I am not sure that this is right for me. I felt at home in my lab reading ancient tomes. I must take a greater role in any upcoming challenges we may face. I appreciate the trust that you have placed in us, and I hope that I have lived up to your expectations."
The pathfinders finish their business with Lady Ollysta and leave, heading back to the Grand Lodge. Pleased with themselves overall for completing the minor tasks set out for them by Ambrus Valsin.
The sun has begun its descent towards the western horizon in earnest, and the dim light of dusk blankets the six as they make their way back through the foreign quarter to get to the Grand lodge.
A throng of people blocks the street ahead. A performance art group commandeers the street, drawing graffiti to create a jolly hellscape complete with illusory devils comically dancing around in circles. A few citizens avoiding the crowd slip off-street through a nearby alley, the only egress past the gathering.
Grudgingly, the group follows the trickle of people who are trying to get past the blocked street. Just on the other side is the main artery that will take them to the front steps of the Grand Lodge. As they begin to filter down one of the alleyways, a spine-chilling laugh pierces the air, and an unnatural mist drops down on the entryway after the group has already made their way between the buildings. Several men and women scatter instantly, recognizing the danger they have walked into. One woman drags a young boy by the arm while she clings to the baby on her hip to get away from the inevitable confrontation.
The hair on the back of the pathfinders (who have hair) stands up, and suddenly everyone but Edgar recognizes the unmistakable face of a familiar Halfling with a comical handlebar mustache.
”Kill them all, and quick! The circus show will keep everyone busy while we steal these ignorant pathfinder’s gear and gold. We will be gone before anyone finds the bodies!” A striking red-head announces with a sinister snear.
The ambush sprung, the pathfinders see four figures on the other end of the alleyway. A younge, lithe red-head with giant ringlet curls and a long skirt, embroidered with silver and black thread and a high-necked woolen blouse, is shouting the commands to the other three behind her.
The Halfling, Ledford, with pointy ears and the long mustache wields a greataxe, crafted for his size, and does little to conceal the chain shirt that covers his torso. The human male, Larkin, has short-cropped light brown hair, a light complexion, and forgettable brown eyes. Larkin wears rumpled worker’s clothing with a heavy coat over his chain shirt. The other female, Halli, has full golden blonde hair that frames her healthy, smiling face, punctuated with steely blue eyes and thick red lips. Halli wears a well-made, green silk dress in the most current fashion with a shimmering black scarf draped across her shoulders, and fidgets as the moves.
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Why is that elf looking at me funny? Nodding... Must I follow? More people in front. A halfling with mustachio, do I know him? Yes, familiar! He must be the one who introduced me into the Society. Happy reunion!
Tybain starts running forwards, arms wide, ready to embrace his friend. But halfway there, he realizes this halfling looks different. The mustachio is different, wrong clothing, and no hat. And he is drawing his weapon! At that moment Tybain's running stance turns to one meant for charging an enemy, and he springs to Ledford with two mighty leaps swinging his Scizore in wide arc.
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Oh a fight! Now I can prove to all of them that I am a worthy addition to the team!
Drawing forth his arcane energies, Nugats begins to cast a spell. Once finished a single bolt of energy races out of his outstretched hand and flies towards Halli.
"Best to give up no before we have to killall of you! No one robs us." Trying to sound braver than he is, Nugats try to snarl but it only sounds like a dog snoring.
Valore approaches, setting himself up for a strike, while Tybain wastes no time in turning the tables on the would-be ambushers. His Scizore cuts deep into the Halfling who dared impersonate his beloved friend. Nugats unleashes a sizzling, bright blue bolt that stings the giggling blonde in the back row, which only elicits a louder, slightly demented laugh.
Deandre whistles loudly as the battle is joined, a disconcerting sparkle in her eye. She weaves her hands, casting a spell, but the spell fizzles as she tries to do it without the two pathfinders in front of her taking a swing.
”Dammit you fools! What the f$&@ am I paying you for! You better earn your spot in this group right now or I’ll stick you with my blade while you sleep!” she yells in a shrill, not-so-attractive shrieking voice.
Ledford is all too happy to oblige, champing at the bit to get into the fight himself. The ornery Halfling flies into a spittle inducing rage, and takes a swing at the masked man in front of him. ”Hey Metal-Face! Meet my can-opener! ”
for He misses poorly.
Larkin grins his forgetful grin, and lunges for Tybain as well with his rapier, bolstered by his two companions at his side.
for He also misses, despite his advantageous position.
Finally, Halli joins the fun with a giggle and a snarl, unleashing a nearly identical, save for the red color, bolt of force right back at the plucky gnome.
Halli’s strike is true, though not due to any skill of her own. She frowns at its apparent lack of catastrophic damage.
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Bugdip gulps down hard, and surveys the situation. "Well, time to fight something other than rats and demons! Unless we think they can be talked out of it?" He hears Deandre screaming at her minions and decides that, if there is a way to talk them out of things that she will need to be take out first.
Preferring to rely on his rapier, Bugdip realises that he won't be able to get it out in time to do anything worthwhile just yet. He'll have to rely on sorcery.
"Burning hands" he completes his incantation.
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"Seriously, why do we have to fight? Why are you fighting us, folks?"
Ifran casts murderous command on Ledford.
"You don't have to fight," Deandre says, sweetly while batting her big eyelashes. "You could just drop your weapons and we can cut your throats much easier that way. tee hee!"
Ledford has murder in his eyes. He looks around for a moment, confused, then shakes it off with a laugh, leaning towards taking another swing at Tybain.
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As a mirror image of the bolt he sent towards Halli comes back at him he reels back, looking at the hole burned through his overalls, shirt, and skin. He places a hand over the wound reflexively, gritting his teeth.
This is no time to shrink back. be bold. be brave. Be a hero.
Nugats again sends a sizzling bolt of arcane energy through the air, this time at the ax wielding Ledford.
Valore's impressive display yields no damage to the plucky red-head, but Nugats scores with the unerring missile of force on the angry halfling.
"Ye'll pay for that ye stupid garden decoration! Ha!" Ledford yells, his rage and bluster doing a poor job of hiding his dire straights.
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This was life. There's nothing better than ballet of blades, exchanged blows accompanied by witty remarks.
"GGHHHH..." In all honesty, Tybains verbal output will not win any prizes in a duel of wits. But otherwise the stage-fighter seems to be in his element. The received blow seems only to encourage him for even more furious battle. With a surprise move, Tybain leaves his Scizore for defense and instead delivers the assault with his head. The steel mask hits the halfling's face with disgusting crunch.
Tybain lunges forward, his masked face smashing mercilessly into the crown of the halflings head. Blood sprays from his ears and the pint sized barbarian drops in a heap to the ground. Without hesitation, Tybain steps over top of the unconscious fighter.
”You useless fop!” Deandre screams at her hired muscle. If looks alone could kill, Tybain would be a bloodstain on the ground next to the bleeding Ledford. Since they can’t, she tries for a more direct method. She steps down to pin the masked man between herself and Halli, and Lunges at Tybain with her shortsword, hoping to deliver a quick and crippling blow.
for
Larkin sheds no tears for the abrasive Halfling, but does realize that the numbers suddenly aren’t in his favor. He looks around nervously, but decides in the end that the masked man must die. He grimaces at the loss of his advantageous position.
for
for
Darkness and the feel of warm blood washes over Tybain as he is ushered into unconciousness.
Finally, Halli giggles with a wicked laugh as her would-be attacker goes down in front of her. Since the gnome is to far away for her next trick, she fires off her acidic ray at the elf standing in front of her boss.
for
Her attack goes wide of its intended mark.
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Finally stirred into action, Edgar at last rushes forward to help his endangered friend. He hopes this is finally his moment to prove his worth to the others, and to do one of the most important actions someone can do in their life- protecting one's friends.
As he moves down the narrow alleyway, the agile youth draws up his rapier. Instead of outright protecting his advance, he feigns leaving an opening through which the woman could attempt to strike at him, hoping in turn to use her own attack against her. As his feet slide to a stop beside Tybain, Edgar turns back at jabs the impossibly sharp blade at the woman.
[dice=party attempt]1d20+6[/dice
[dice=attack, if parry successful]1d20+6[/dice
[dice=damage, if parry successful]1d6+4[/dice
Unwilling to allow an opportunity to slide past her, Deandre lashes out at Edgar, emboldened by the fact that her and Larkin just took one of their targets out.
The shortsword flashes out, but Deandre's eyes widen as it is suddenly and forcefully pushed aside by a dancing rapier. She narrowly dodges a wholly unexpected return strike.
"Get up you bleeding imbecile!" she shouts in vain at Ledford.
Just as quickly as he parried the woman's strike, Edgar gets into place and lunges out again. Luck is not with him again, as the point of his weapon misses its mark a second time.
Valore continues to swing, quarterstaff and magically charged hand. The quarterstaff goes wide, but the elf plants his hand on Deandre's shoulder, releasing the corrosive energies.
Ifran gives Larkin a cross-eyed look that forces the man to question his loyalties.
Suddenly the normally starry-eyed look he holds for Deandre turns dark...