A few acid splashes eventually stem the troll's healing, soon she lies still her twisted form somehow even more hideous in death. The half orc's frantic scramblings have shifted more rubble and the rotting form of a dead orc is now revealed beneath.
Working together the group are able to pry the bear trap from Brin's leg, quickly binding the wound and helping the injured Skald to hobble free.
Cromwin falls back with a splash as Brin pulls his leg out just before his hands slip and the trap snaps shut again. "Oof. Good pull Grok, Brin. Brin, can you walk? I'll carry Maurie. Grok, get the half orc, Brin and Zove, help him if you can. We'll tie our prisoner to Anvil once we're up on the top floor, just have to make it up those stairs before this accursed place does anything else to us." Cromwin stand and walks over to where he laid Maurie against a wall, lifting her gently and beginning to walk towards the stairs.
"Oh! By all that is written! It feels so good to be free of that damnedable device!
Brin holds his wound after the bandaging has been applied.
"Thank you, thank you for fighting on. I'm sorry I could not lend my blade."
He sees Maurie's slumped form and straightens. His resolve returns in an instant.
"Okay, let me help you with her. Stay strong Maurie."
Grok smiles as Brin steps out of the bear trap, releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding. He lets the trap slam shut, wincing slightly as he looks over the group. Not in good shape at all, not good, not good. Ya. Grok looks down and shakes his head while he speaks, then stands and walks to the half orc, picking him up with some effort.
I'll be fine, Brin's bleeding is surprisingly little, probably not life threatening...we need to get Maurie out though. Come on. Grok staggers off with the half orc over his shoulders, moving only a few steps at a time and ocassionally almost falling. It takes nearly two minutes to reach the larger room on the upper floor, by which time Grok is breathing quite hard. Sweat rolls down his back, where the rain hasn't quite soaked through his thick hide vest, and he greets Naurgost with a low and quiet growl through gritted teeth. He sets the half orc down with some effort, rolling his shoulders and looking around for Anivil.
"You did well, Brin. Your song came with us, even if your blade could not. Any of us could have been caught by this awful trap, and it would have been me if I had not suggested you lead. I am..." Cromwin shakes his head sorrowfully. "It should have been me. I am so sorry that you caught this in my place. As for Maurie, she isn't heavy, and I am unhurt. You can help most by leading the way with this wondrous light you've made."
By the light of Brin's magic, Cromwin carries Maurie through the twisted corridors of the basement and up the small waterfall made by the rain pouring down the stairs. Easily outpacing Grok, who has a much heavier load, Cromwin moves and whistles Anvil over such that Anvil is waiting near the top of the stairs when Grok manages to arrive with his burden.
"Anvil, stay! Grok, tie him to Anvil's saddle and we'll get out of here."
It does not take long for the half orc to awaken, and it is swiftly obvious that he is not thrilled with his current predicament. Thrashing and twisting he struggles against his bonds.
[dice=Knowledge LocaL DC 18]This half orc is named Daktani purportedly a thief and a near-do well. He is the kind of half orc stereotype that much of Trunau considers the norm.[/spoiler]
Grok reaches back and pats Naurgost on the head, guiding him forward slightly to look at the tied up man and setting a handful of meat on the floor for the wolf to eat while he speaks.
That wolf there is one that you may know, and you'd better hope it doesn't remember you. Grok grabs the man by the shirt tugs, lifting the half orc slightly off the ground and staring him in the face. His lips curl back silently to reveal a mouth full of teeth, long tusks towering above them. Now you'll be calm or that wolf just might enjoy your hands.
Grok grabs the man's sword and pulls it from his belt, then searches him quickly for other weapons, patting his boots and jacket for the feel of a dagger or vial of poison.
Then Grok grabs the long loose end of rope hanging from the half orc's arms and ties it to Anvil's saddle, long enough that it's possible to avoid any kicks from the horse but still rather short. Alright, let's go.
"Let me give it a go with our new friend here, once we're back to safety. Oooh boy, the Priestess and Paladin will have their hands full with us tonight."
Brin holds his sword out with his arm bent to support the weight for the long ride. He looks back at their prisoner every now and then.
We all heard the stories growing up, of the bards who could get you to confess when you stole a sweetmeat from the jar. I can create light, maybe I can coax information.
Cromwin gasps as Grok ties the half orc prisoner to Anvil's saddle, and he gets his first clear look at the man. "Wait a minute, Daktani?! What are you doing here? You're Trunauan, why would...I mean...I always heard...but...why? Why were you here, with that?"
The macabre corpse still wears a suit of sturdy chainmail, and his pockets hold a wand, a fine silver dagger , a red gold holy symbol that appears to show a bloody waraxe , and ten black onyx gems . From the smell and bloating it is clear the corpse has been here for days.
"Trunauan! Most of Trunau wouldn't piss on me if I was on fire you horse f@*~er! Get that fleabag away from me I don't know no stinking fox wolf! You'd best let me go I got powerful friends! just you wait, I'm gonna be someone when... Get off of me!" Daktani bellows thrashing wildly as he is attached to the saddle and attempting to bite at anyone and anything that comes close.
Grok is silent, taking a few easy steps towards Daktani from an unassuming position. Then his sword is out, and bashing the bound man in the skull repeatedly with unsettling ease.
Eventually blood begins to stream lightly from Daktani's skull, who falls limply halfway to the floor before Grok catches him. Sheathing his sword, Grok picks the half orc up and lays him across the horse, to whom he is still tied. Should keep him quiet while we enter Trunau, and we need to be on our way, Grok says, motioning for the others to follow.
Cromwin just stares uncomfortably with his mouth mildly agape as Grok pummels Daktani unconscious. "Thats, Grok...well, alright, I suppose that works. I think he might have been about to tell us something important; he's going to be someone when what exactly? We'll figure that out later though, come on and lets get moving."
Cromwin whistles sharply to Anvil, and starts walking out of the plague house carrying Maurie. "Come on Anvil! Lets get you out of this wet and cold and back into a nice, warm stable. Follow me!"
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The wand is weakly charged with the Cure Light Wounds spell.
Please keep a count, so I can tell you when it's extinguished
Trying hard to not to kill the half-orc, Grok's first blow grazes Daktani's shoulder, but the second catches him squarely in the jaw with a loud crunching sound and his eyes glaze as his body goes limp, before further curses are uttered at Grok.
Bite Damage
Wand CLW 8
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With the rain still falling the black darkness of the night closes in on the shadowy figures gathering outside the Plague House. Looking
up, the gloom is broken by the flickering torches burning high above in the lodgings of the inhabitants of Trunau. A figure slung over the back of a horse groans as the they move off, the party quietly reflecting on their next move, their next destination this late in the day. Slowly they make their way north around the base of the cliffs that raise Trunau above the surrounding countryside, their boots sinking into the newly formed mud on the path. The sound of rain and of squelching and splashing denote the travellers progress towards Trunau's only gate, their way lit by their own torches, casting a yellowy light a short distance around them. They travel on, it should only take a few more minutes before they can enter the town.
As the large sober gates loom before them a voice from on high calls down, "Halt strangers, what is your business here, this time of night." A white halo of light surrounds the head of one of the town's militia, staring down at them. his face wet and miserable like the weather.
Maurie moans a bit in her unconscious form as Anvil's movement jostles her. Clearly the rain is not helping the severe blood she has sustained.
Grok walks along next to the horse, feeling his armor and pack as they weigh down his injured shoulder, he adjusts the straps somewhat. It doesn't help much. Rain dripping down his face, he double checks to make sure that his sword is clean.
Never did learn what happened to her face, though it does look rather deliberate. Perhaps she wanted to look strong. Or someone else wanted her to feel weak.
Grok looks away, finding memories he wished were lost, and remembering his own scars. He checks Maurie to make sure she's still breathing, her skin perhaps paler than before, though it's hard to tell in the flickering torchlight. You're not dead yet, he mutters to himself.
Hearing the guardsman, Grok looks up. Why's he got that target? Must make him brave, to know we can see him and haven't shot him yet.
A few others as well, Grok says, adding to Zove. We're back from the Plague House, found someone who might know about the murder. Grok is somewhat uncomfortable stopping to parlay with guardsman while Maurie bleeds out, his voice a few notes higher than usual. He looks over at her now, draped across the horse, there is not time to stop, he says simply, to no one in particular.
"Hurry! I don't know how much longer she's going to be able to hold on, we have to get her to Tyari." Cromwin calls out to the guard, then looks down at the body in his arms, still slowly oozing blood. "Maurie is still with us, but she got torn up pretty bad. You must recognize Zove and I at least, so hurry up and open the gate!"
"Good gods man, we're the group hired out by your own captain. Stand aside for the wounded!"
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The guard wipes the rain from his eyes, "Oh, it's you." he says disinterestedly, "Best take your prisoner to the East Tower." comes as an afterthought. There is a sight pause, as you hear the rain pounding on the stone and gate, before the guard calls out "FRIENDS!"
The gate is opened and you pass another two militiamen, who seem more interested in getting back out of the rain than their duty. "Hurry along, com'on Zove get your friends to get a shift on." They close the gates behind you with urgency and scurry into their shelter, leaving you to make you way quickly along the darkened muddy road, up towards [i]Sanctuary[/i], where you enter.
A young lad greets you, asking you to stop in the entrance, out of the rain. Puddles quickly form where you stand as the wet clothes loose their moisture. From inside, the sounds of prayers seem to echo through the building, in a soft low mournful tune. The boy bows to you and excuses himself, "Most holy Varvatos, will attend at the closing of The Inheritor's eventide. Be patient and her blessing shall fall on your swords."
After a few minutes, the sounds die down and footsteps approach. The head of Iomedae's church in Trunau receives your news of the fight and capture of Daktani. She looks sympathetically at Maurie"Leave her here, we will tend to her tonight, she looks to have fought well and deserves Iomedae's strength to restore her. Come back when the cock crows, I shall expect you."
Grok walks through the gates, cracking his knuckles as he does and relaxing faintly, he thanks the guards. Cold night, he says, eying one of them, eyes bright.
After arriving at the Sanctuary and being told to wait, Grok looks intensely uncomfortable. He sits and scratches Naurgost behind the ears, then sits on his hands and bites his cheek. He stands and paces in the rain, checking Daktani's consciousness and Maurie's deathlyness far more often than necissary. Finally, as the doors open, Grok picks up the unconscious halfling, perhaps more urgently than is necissary, handing her off to a sturdy priest.
He lets his pack fall to the floor with a heavy thump, relaxing his shoulders and wincing slightly; he sits stiffly on the floor, just inside the entrance. One hand massages his brow, the other touching his wound, and finding the blood still wet. Probably just the rain, I can't be hurt too badly. Going to sleep well tonight. Grok looks about, surveying his comrades. Brin's still limping somewhat, probably not in good shape to do much fighting if need be. The other two are unhurt...though perhaps tired. Grok looks to his hands, palms up now and resting on his lap, a boy, all alone down there. Alive. No others now, emptied, or is it?
Grok's back straightens and he stands, staring through the walls and into the depths of the earth. What are they digging for? He winces slightly, glancing around again, and at Daktani. Come on, best find the tower and deposit our prisoner, keep him watched until he wakes. Then we're going to need to have a conversation. Meet back here tomorrow With those words Grok takes a few steps out, opens the doors, and slips into the night.
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It is only a few hours later when Grok returns, his wounds clumsily bandaged but already beginning to heal. He locates the woman they spoke to the night before, then in prayer. He looks around for the others, I wonder if Maurie's awake yet.
"Thank you for caring for her Tyari. I am just thankful we got her to you in time." Cromwin will lead Anvil, carrying Daktani, back out into the rain towards the suggested east tower, visibly less tense now that Maurie is under clerical care.
"Ug. This has been some night. Grok, Brin, will you help me get Daktani secured in whatever the guards might have for a holding cell? We're going to want to talk to him in the morning, I think, to see if we can find out if there is more going on. After we get him set up, then I'm going to head back to the Ramblehouse. I need a drink, a hot bath and a good night's sleep after everything we've been through today."
Cromwin will do as he suggests, securing Daktani, then returning to the Ramblehouse. He will take time to stable and feed Anvil before seeing to himself, but then will relax and rest until the morning, when he'll get up with the dawn to go check on Maurie.
Brin fidgets with his tunic upon arriving at the Sanctuary. He eyes the new companionship that Grok has created between the wolf and himself.
"I'm not sure it's so common for a wolf to bond with a human or orc. Perhaps you're discovering hidden talents too."
Brin smirks to himself at the comment. Magic, who'd have thought the Voice would manifest in someone from my town. And now this half-orc is developing hidden connections with nature. I wonder what it all means.
Brin is unusually quiet and more fidgety that most of his companions would expect from him. He continues to be lost in though, sometimes moving his index finger like he's writing bits of a story in his head. He shakes his head and meets Cromwin with wide eyes before shaking his head again and going back to his normal demeanor.
"I can certainly help bring this wretch to the holding pen. I think I'll stay at sanctuary tonight though. I could use their parchment and the quiet would be soothing. Plus, I don't want to leave Maurie alone for too long."
Brin takes a big breathe of night air and looks around the dark streets.
"There's a story of trouble being written here and we're all likely wrapped up in it now."
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A vague mist hangs over Trunau, as the sun tries to break through and burn off the remaining moisture in the air, that hangs on, clinging to every structure and creature as fine globules of clear water. The roads are still wet, puddles nestling in the ruts and holes of the road, the mud still making walking more difficult than it need be, fortunately there is no need to hurry.
The party meet in the Sanctuary, waiting on news of their friend Maurie, some trepidation that the injuries would take her to Pharesma's realm, but expecting that the priestess and her holy orders would bring the halfling back to consciousness and life. A grim faced Tyari Varvatos, eventually walks from the quiet contemplative silence of the Sanctuary towards the gathered friends. "Greetings my friends, your friends wounds were indeed deep and serious, it is well you got her back here, so that our healing salves and balms could start their restorative work. However, still she has not recovered her consciousness, perhaps you would join me in holy prayer to bring Iomedae's gracious healing upon her. Such healing does not come without a cost, I am sure you will find it in your heart to compensate the Sanctuary, with an offering to our Lady of the Swords, to do such a repair."
The priestess turns with a whish of her white and gold robes, befitting of such a cleric. Her long slender arm, beckons you follow. You all follow as, the sounds of your steps echoing in the large chamber, through a study wooden door, down a corridor lit by the flickering of torches, before you enter an antechamber. Here on a cot lies Maurie, her face looking serene in clean white robes, the red open flesh hidden behind clean ecru bandages, her breathe steady and strong. Tyari unsheathes the pristine longsword from the scabbard belted around her petite waist, its polished metal gleams in the torch light, as though the stars themselves would play along its blade. Laying the blade gently on Maurie, her soft strong voice calls out to her god, and the room is filled with a brilliance that hurts the eyes.
Leaving Sanctuary Cromwin leads the party to the East Tower, where the treacherous half-orc Daktani was left a prisoner of Trunau. Arriving outside the tower, the party is met by members of the towns council, Chief Defender Halgra with a red faced Jagrin Grath. "He knows nothing, just taken by his own greed and blood-lust, typical orc breed. I tell you we shouldn't trust any of them." They look up from their conversation and let their attention be taken by you, the new arrivals. Halgra speaks, her voice clear and bright, "So tell me about Daktani, it is said you caught him at the Plague House with a troll. What else did you discover that might shed light on their activities?"
Cromwin prays with Tyari, although he has never been particularly religious, he vehemently wishes for Maurie's safe recovery. He will tentatively pray to Iomedae, thanking her for her aid. As Maurie's eyes flick open, a wide smile brims across Cromwin's face. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Maurie. We killed the troll and captured the half orc, who turned out to be a Trunau resident. Everyone is safe, and well now thanks to Tyari and Iomedae. How are you feeling?".
As the group readies to leave to go and interrogate Daktani, Cromwin will thank Tyari profusely and supply a 50 gold offering out of his share of the coins found in the plague house.
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Cromwin is pleased to see Chief Defender Halgra there, impressed that she seems to be taking the threat as seriously as it deserves. "We did." Cromwin nods. "We have been investigating the plague house in connection with Rodrick's murder. There was a concealed trap door in the haunted part of the ruins, that led to the basement below. Someone had fixed up a room there, and we found a disguise kit and a lockpicking set earlier in the day. We had some trouble with a huge, square ooze and had to leave. When we returned at nightfall, we found Daktani in that room conversing with a troll. We weren't able to get much from what they were saying, or at least I wasn't." Cromwin turns to his companions. "Was anyone else able to hear any of their conversation? Regardless, we slew the troll, and we found another orc body that seems to have been crushed in a cave in. There were signs of digging, and a partial tunnel that makes me wonder if more than just the one Troll and Daktani were meeting there."
Me? Hidden talents? Grok says, looking at Brin. I always figured my visible talents were more than enough. Still...odd, Grok mutters, looking at Naurgost.
At Cromwin's behest Grok walks along to the tower, keeping a quiet eye on Daktanin before heading off for the night
As the light sweeps through the room, knitting flesh and filling Grok with energy, he lets out a sigh. Thank you, not having to live with wounds is extremely helpful...we'd still know next to nothing about the Plague House without you. As he speaks, Grok pulls a sack of coins from his pack, handing it to the priestess.
Grok ignores the bigoted words being passed between the council as they approach, either not noticing or not disagreeing enough to say anything. He looks on while Cromwin speaks to Halgra. I couldn't make anything out, though they may have been speaking Orcish. I really don't know, the rain was quite loud. Grok stands and looks at the rest of them, thinking over the details in his head.
We'd gone there because Rodrik was investigating it before he died. That burned ruin was full of all sorts of dangers, hurt us badly a few times, came quite close to dying with the ooze. We found a child there as well, I think you should try to make it clear that there's nothing there for anyone but death and bad memories. Once we've cleared it out, we would do well to try to level it. There's a statue as well, big and heavy and valuable and beautiful. Maybe we could set it up as a shrine or something, a symbol that even when everyone is dying, some things are...more durable. Grok looks back and forth between the two of them, then glances at his feet, mouthing words to himself. They've to put their faith somewhere, it doesn't do them well not to have it. He nods at Halgra, then continues. We haven't been able to get a good look around, and with the storm any good tracks will be mostly mush, hard to figure out how many were down there and what they were doing. But we know, as Cromwin mentioned, that there was digging, and we found some strange runes written on a rock, probably a big group, not just the two of them.
Grok cracks his knuckles, looking at the rest of the group, anything else? He glances back at Halgra for a moment, remembering, we found Rodrik's hopekinfe already, by the way, pyre should be...today.
Is Daktani awake and talking yet? I think I might have broken his jaw...unavoidable. Need to figure out what he knows, but if he's still limp we can head back to the Plague House first.
Brin wakes up at the desk, quill still in his hand and dry. He never even made it to the inkwell. He sits up and and yawns. For a brief moment the pulsing of pain from his leg becomes unbareable but he builds a wall of willpower in his mind and stands back up.
He moves over to Maurie's bedside and when the others arrive he joins them and the priestess. he then joins them in prayer.
Even with his eye closed Brin sees the divine light wash over him. The mangled flesh of his leg binding back together. He lets out a long sigh of relief.
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Brin frowns at Jagrin's comment and sees Grok's demeanor shift.
"Sounds more like a typical council person than any half-orcs I know." His voice takes an obvious sarcastic tone.
Brin holds his tongue and fidgets with the ends of his tunic while the others speak. His discoveries were of a different type down in the Plaguehouse, nothing that would aid an angry council. He has his shield strapped to his arm and ready, remembering the wolves that attacked them.
Thanks for keeping him for us, he's not told you anything, I suppose? Grok says, following Halgra into the tower.
After Halgra leaves, Grok eyes the guards about, I wonder if they've fed him. Suppose we'll find out soon enough. On the way to the cell, Grok stops for a moment and looks at the others. The boy we found yesterday could recognize Daktani, might be worth bringing him here. Likewise with the innkeep at the ramblehouse. Let's not let on that we'll bring them by, if we need to, see what he says first, Grok says, looking at the guards. Maybe one of you can go get them for us?
Grok follows the guards to Daktani's cell, taking off his pack and placing it far out of the half orc's reach, then stands with his arms crossed. Daktani? Conscious? I'm going to need you to explain what you were doing at the Plague House, if you've been there before, and why you were talking to a troll. Better not lie, or leave anything out. Grok stands gazing at the prisoner, stable and unmoving.
"I think I would like to speak to him for a bit." Brin says abruptly and then follows the large wooden door into the tower.
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In the cell, a badly beaten up orc, in bloodstained clothes sits forlornly on a stool, his legs chained together with old iron iron manacles. In front of him an empty dish, the remnants of gruel on its lip. The dejected half-orc looks up as Brin enters with the gentle words of a tuneful song springing from his lips and dancing around the half-orc's ears. He looks round at Brim, his eyes glazed a smile on his bruised face. "Awe, that's such a pretty tune." His body relaxes as much as his bruises allow, he looks open eyed at Brim.
He turns and sees Grok, by Brim's side and he blinks, a quiver of fear sends shivers through the half-orcs body, before he turns back to look at Brim. "Sorry, thought I recognised your friend, but I could be mistaken." The glazed look returns to his eyes as the tune stops and the half-orc sits placidly in front of you. Brin repeats Grok's questions as he looks intently at Daktani.
The half-orc looks about, his eyes darting around the cell, "Whatever you heard, you never heard it from me! Right! Walls have ears." he continues, paranoia taking hold of his mind. "But the Plague House was our meeting place, so's I could pass information onto 'The Tribe'. The troll was my contact." Once more he looks around, pausing and breathing lightly, his voice quietens "It was Skreed's plan, you know the scawny half-orc Skreed Gorewillow" he stops once more as if waiting for the worse to happen. He spits on the floor and continues with more confidence talking directly to Brin, as though he too were a conspirator, "The infiltrators are already in town, they are told to be prepared for the coming of 'The Tribe'. When 'The Tribe' arrive, the town will be ours, we half-orcs shall control it all. You be prepared, you can join with us be one with the half-orcs, if you fight by our side." He sits back, contentedly, having answered all the questions and more.
Cromwin waits outside with Zove, leaning against the wall and listening closely with a steadily sinking feeling in his gut as Brin works his magic and Daktani spills his secrets. "Damn." Cromwin mutters under his breath. "Zove, this is bad. The Troll is the contact for 'The Tribe'? And with infiltrators inside the town? We have to find them before this 'Tribe' arrives."
Grok looks over at Brin, arms still folded. Thought we could resist his powers? Maybe something different's going on...who knows. Grok leans close to Brin and whispers to him, worried that Daktani will overhear and not be so forthcoming. Who are the infiltrators in town? Could he choose them for us out of a group of people? Where would they be? How do we not get hurt catching them. And what's going to happen at the Plague House now that the troll's dead? What about the tribe, can we find them? How many are they, and how well armed? Is Skreed's special thing what they're digging for? Grok looks over at the smiling Daktani, eyes glazed over. Will he remember this?
Cromwin stares are Zove, wide eyed. "Can...can they do that? That's terrifying! Even if it isn't some sort of magical passage, though, it seems likely they are connected somehow. It might not hurt to see if someone can keep watch, at least for a day or two.
Cromwin puts his ear to the door, listening to Grok and Brin continue the interrogation. "Hm. Grok's got the right questions, and Brin seems to have him talking somehow. What we really need is to find out where the infiltrators might be hiding. Someone has to be helping them, or they might be operating out of an abandoned building or something inside the town walls. Maybe we could look for any buildings they might be using?"
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When the questions are posed to Daktani, he looks at Brin, disappointment written all over his face, "Umm .." he stutters his response, quiet and almost with a tear in his eye, at not being able to answer his new friend. ".. Well ... Umm... Skreed never umm ... well he never ... umm never told me ... all that." It seems the previous interrogation elicited all the useful information that was given to Daktani, all but one extra titbit, "I .. I ... suppose some else might turn up ... maybe even Skreed! You know, to the Plague House ... but it wouldn't be until late tonight ... I don't know, I could go and find out .. let me visit there about midnight?" he asks, unsure of himself...
Jagrin Grath is leaving the tower with Halgra, Zove and Cromwin overhear his last remarks, "I hope my son's last time on this earth is given the honour that is due, he deserves all the town to attend his pyre." Chief Defender Halgra replies "All the invitations were given out, including to those who investigate his death. Let us hope they attend and we can give our thanks more formally, in the wake. They seem to be making progress, they might have something more to report later or in the morning."
Looks like we're not going to get anything more out of you, Grok says, unfolding his arms and shouldering his pack. He walks back towards Cromwin and Zove, Come on, I want to have a look at the Plague House before the funeral, give it a good and thorough search.
"I agree Grok, we can check it out more thoroughly before the funeral. I think Daktani actually has a pretty good idea though; we should consider trying to lay a trap in the plague house tonight. Before we go, I want to swing by the market and pick up a few things. I have a bad feeling that we're going to be doing a lot of fighting soon."
Brin asks the man about the other night and the outpouring of information takes the bard by surprise.
It worked...
Brin stares down at his hand and then back to half-orc prisoner. Grok's sudden appearance at the edge of his face catches him off guard but he shakes it off and listens, then whispers back.
"I'll ask."
The half-orc babbles some more but then mentions the Plaguehouse.
"No, No. Daktani, that will be quite alright. You rest up here and don't worry about the Plaguehouse any longer."
What an amazing power...
Brin leaves the tower with Grok and moves off to the side with him.
"Did you see that?"
"The stories of our peoples' bards always contained mentions of magic but there hasn't been a magic-using Ulfen from my village in...well, ages. I just wove magic from the Tapestry of the Voice Grok!