Everything that the boatswain said about the glory, the peculiarity and the richness of the BookTown district seems to crumble away as their vessel, so small and insignificant in the vastness of the Lyme, draws close to their destination. The ramshackle houses that crowd against the riverbank are, by turns, filthy, decrepit and barely standing... yet life bursts from them, hundreds of voices calling out to each other and out to the boats which are mooring, or departing, from the spiders web of jetties here. "These are the Backhouses... there's money in BookTown - and wherever there is money in Castorhage, that's where people flock to... this is the side of BookTown that you won't see in any guides - but without the folk who live here, the labourers, the indexers, the hod carriers, the tongawallahs... BookTown would grind to a halt".
Seeing an empty mooring point, the boatswain lashes his vessel to the jetty, "If you're looking for a guide, then may I - with great humility and respect - suggest that I offer my services? For just one Shekel, I'll take you to the Temple - such as it is - and maybe a library or two? And I'll even throw in the return trip back to the Chain Ferry... or, for five Pilasters more, back across to Festival?"
Aishe looks to the party for dissent, and if he finds none, he'll fork over the shekel. "You're a good man, and if you do right by us, we may yet have you take us all the way back to Festival. I know some of us are keen on visiting a library or two - but temple first!" he grins back.
There are always slums at the edges of the wealthy. They require lots of labor in their grist mills to keep the wheels of progress greased. He just hopes not to be one of those ground...
He steps off the boat and onto the dock, glad to have firm footing beneath his feet. He has some skill at swimming, but he knows his limits in that regard.
Through the Backhouses, avoiding more than a handful of beggars asking for coin, and out towards the public face of BookTown, the boatswain leads the group into the area he calls 'The Folio'. This place is a canyon of tall buildings and towers, linked by innumerable bridges and gangplanks, rope bridges, and ladders to enable the legalese and professors and studiers to get between the sellers more easily. This is a place that is vertical as well as horizontal. Towers are the order of the day here, towers and auction rooms and museums, libraries and bibliographers.
"The streets here run directly through the very heart of BookTown to the river, but then creeps ever outwards, extending like a spider’s web across the district. Way I hear it, it's slowly expanding. There's book sellers, there's bookbinders, there's parchment-makers, and all of the other trades associated with the written word... and look", arriving at a rather unassuming building surrounded by imposing gothic structures, "Your temple..."
The temple takes up a block of the city, on the edge of book town. It's far from the largest temple in the city, but given it's to a Lawful Good Dwarven god, that shouldn't be a surprise. However, the stone masonry is unbelievable, each stone fitted so well that there's no mortar involved, only ridges and slots that hold the stones together without need of mortar.
On stepping inside, the group finds dwarven priests, in full plate, with holy symbols on their armor. One of them steps up, apparently young, as his beard is only 10 inches long, steps up to them. "Aye, and mornin' to ye. What be ye needin' in the Temple of Torag?" He asks in heavily accented common.
Rigo steps forward, and gives an elaborate bow. "Visi kriaušės Toragas, jo palaiminimai gali būti tau." Rigo speaks in dwarven, before switching back to common. "Apologies, but I must ask for Sera Alphagora Argentblade. I have urgent message for her." He reaches into his pack and pulls out a silver holy symbol, a warhammer. "This is proof of my truth."
"All hail Torag, may his blessings be upon you."[/ooc]
"Вы кажаце дварфские??"Salom asks
Of Rigo in Dwarven. "якое цікавае істота вы, містэр Rigo!"
Rigo shakes his head. "My mentor refused to teach me Dwarven, for reasons he wouldn't state. Only Elven." The feline shrugs. "So not know what you just said."
Rigo steps forward, and gives an elaborate bow. "Visi kriaušės Toragas, jo palaiminimai gali būti tau." Rigo speaks in dwarven, before switching back to common. "Apologies, but I must ask for Sera Alphagora Argentblade. I have urgent message for her." He reaches into his pack and pulls out a silver holy symbol, a warhammer. "This is proof of my truth."
The dwarf at the temple door raises one shaggy eyebrow at Rigo and says "An do ye ver'ly 'spect any fit-ganger cin step up from the roadway an waive aboot a wee sleekit haimur an trooble the lugs o' Lafdy Sillerswuird ye've dissapointment a'comin."
Moira bustles in, smiling as usual: "Greetings, good sir. I am not sure what my companions have said to you just now, but I can tell by your admirable caution that an explanation may be in order: we've traveled here to purchase a truth spell in order to exonerate ourselves from the Tabaxi's suspicions of murder. I've heard that such things are available at temples, is that correct?"
Trying to look encouraging, trustworthy...
"An which then is it, ye crowd o' silly birds? Is ye wantin' to trouble Miz Sara or are ye shoppin' for powers that I reck are a good weight heavier than yer class? Shove off en leave a dwarf to is wark."
The dwarf turns away, apparently intending to ignore the crew.
Not easily discouraged, Moira says, "Oh, I think we've got the weight for it..."
She jingles a heavy coin purse, and the unique ring of solid gold on solid gold makes the dwarf turn once more.
The young cleric is obviously torn between his grouchiness at being interrupted at work, and his desire to facilitate a donation to the temple.
"Well then, if it be to the glory o' Torag, we might be able to give ye advice, then. Tho' know that in Booktown, the truth o' the gods is oft recked as less than the pretty worksmanship o' the legalese... if it's tha sort o' truth you want, there are many who'd supply it." Here he spits in the fire, showing his contempt for all convoluted attempts to twist reality through propositions and precedents. "But in this temple, truth is the real steel. It cin cut ye to the quick. M'names Talisker Dram, deacon o' Torag. Let's talk about the particulars o' the wark ye need done."
Aishe smiles as Moira manages to attract the dwarf's attention with the promise of gold.
He's ready to proceed waiting for Rigo to outline exactly what he wants to know so Aishe can tell him and get off the hook for a mauling.
As Moira and Talisker talk, Audria starts to get more and more anxious and fidgety.
I don't remember anything from that long ago. How is Rigo going to react to that?
Letting herself fall to the end of the line as the group travels. Barely paying attention to anything being said and looking around instead, trying to memorize as much about the area as possible.
Keeping quiet tends to keep her mouth closed so her foot can stay out of her mouth and she maintains that mentality now. Temples have never held much of Alexis's affection. Really only on that is helpful and this is not that one. Don't seem the place to find Cayden anyways. Dark and dreary city.
Rigo frowns at the Deacon, soon to be busted down to acolyte. Then he growls. "I say this not in threat, but to save your life. If you do not send for Sera Alphagora Argentblade, you will have angered her greatly, when she finds out. She will also be angry to find out you have extorted gold to do your job. I suggest you look closely at the holy symbol again, Acolyte. This holy symbol is as far above your reach as the stars in the sky." He holds the holy symbol up before the dwarf's eyes, letting him get a good look at a Holy Symbol that's given out to the senior members of his church only, one that is specifically reserved to Paladin's of Torag, and high ranking ones at that.
Talisker does a quick double-take, giving Rigo a shrewd once-over and making a hand-gesture of respect at the holy symbol. "Torag fergive me fer not seein' the warkmanship on first glance. And if ye bear it in his name, blessin's upon ye, too, despite yer disrespect to his humble servant. If there be danger to the temple, speak." He peers past the party into the very normal-seeming scene outside. There's no sign of trouble, or even of anyone heavily-armed enough to take on armor-plated clerics. If not, I'll be havin' ye kno that Miz Sillerswuird an' the church o' Torag aren' likely to take me life fer an honest mistake, knowin' that I'm good to work through such. An to that, I don' know where ye got that bonny an' blessed haimur since ye haven' told me yet. An it IS part o' my wark to provide castin' for a price, same's to any other temple. Now if ye care to step inside, I cin send a message along soon's I... soon's we hear a bit more from ye. Sit ye down and speak. If ye are one of us, Visi kriaušės Toragas, jo palaiminimai gali būti tau."
The deacon calls his brother smith-priests to listen to the tale, shutting the door and quickly explaining the situation in dwarven. They look deeply interested, a bit distrustful, pretty much dwarves being dwarves.
The temple whilst imposing on the outside is remarkably austere beyond its grand doors - marble stonework is the order of the day as the group follow Deacon Dram into a surprisingly large antechamber... much larger than one might expect, as if the neighbouring buildings had yielded much of their space to the temple, Rigo and Deacon Dram's conversation echoes from the walls in a strangely disconcerting way.
There is another thing particular to this antechamber, although it is less surprising given the dwarven heritage of this place - other than the main entrance from the street, there are no other doors... instead, flanked by a pair of lantern wielding statues, a staircase - broad and exquisitely sculpted - leads downwards...
The boatswain, who had followed the group into the temple, watches with a wry smile on his face as Rigo and the deacon verbally clash. He whispers towards the others, "Remind me to keep on his good side... temperament like that with the teeth to match - well, you don't want to be fleecing him on the fare".
Rigo growls again. "I have a message to her, from the one this was made for. I cannot give it to you. If you will not send for her, then I will leave. She will find out eventually. You will be an Acolyte then, I am sure. Per my mentor, she has a temper and a long memory. I am sure you know this already. It is your decision whether to risk it, Dwarf. I'm done begging. I have had my life disrupted, and been tortured, trying to deliver this message. If I fail because you are too stupid, then that is on you." He puts the holy symbol back into his pouch, taking longer than he should for some reason. Then he turns on one foot and begins to stalk out of the temple.
Aishe watches as the alway over-reactive Rigo chews out the very cleric they came to ask for help.
He sighs, and waits to see how the scene will play out. He has no horse in this race. He's only here for Rigo in the first place.
“If ye fail yer quest through yer own impatience, that is on ye, na me, lad. Don’ be so quick to shuck yer responsibilities onto other folks, Torag frowns on such." The cleric smiles bitterly at the impetuous feline, remembering what it's like to be in the first decades of life, the youth when people equate the disruption of their lives with torture. As a war hero who got this job in a quiet city temple because he was seriously disabled by torture after being captured while leading a heroic rear-guard action against an orc army, Talisker could have gotten pretty angry about this. Instead, he draws on his experience for perspective. He decides to assit the cat. Limping after Rigo's receding figure, he keeps talking: "An try to ken tha’ I’m doin’ my wark in askin’ ye questions, an’ doin’ it well. She’s nawt here or I’d a’ fetched her m’self. Give me a brief message for Sillerswuird and I’ll send it tae ‘er.”
Rigo pauses, then shrugs. "I cannot give you information. Is not for you, I swore an oath. Do not tell me Torag does not respect oaths when given on his symbols. Tell Sera Argentblade that Rigo of the Sharva has a message from the person who gave her the scar on her back. Beyond that, I can say no more. If you are still hungry for gold, there is another matter that is needed, a casting of a spell on these others with me, to determine if any of them are murderers, one that forces truth to be told."
"See, yer doin' it agin, actin' like I should know what ye havena told me yet. Ye didna mention any oath. Look, lad, I'm offerin' ye a Sending spell. If tha's not acceptable, write a note an' seal it, we'll send it by foot or by bird. If tha's not acceptable, ye'll need tae make yer own plans an' stop actin' like time's of the essence before draggin' yer feet when offered the best we have. Ken ye that the Sending scroll I just offered ye costs thousands a' good meals for the puir folk o' this parish. I hunger fer gold because they hunger for bread, and fer the glory o' Torag."
He looks at the party, greeting each in turn, his gaze lingering on Alexis and Audria. "They don' have the look o' murderers. Those tend to sweat a bit more, a this point. Doin' this tae we bairns don' strike me as a kindness, so young ones: only enter the circle if ye desire tae be put tae the test. Gather round, and prepare yerselves to speak the truth, by Torag. And ye," he turns to Rigo, "Frame yer questions well. Ye'll have three minutes. They canna lie tae ye, but they cin hold their silence."
Watching the back and forth between the priest and the cat. For crying out loud! This is ridiculous. At the last part Alexis rubs her face and steps forward, "I hope this cures your mistrust. Ask your damn question and nothing more."
"I do not know spells, and you speak of not knowing of my oath while expecting me to know you meant to send a spell message without telling me. As I said before, tell her Rigo of the Sharva has a message from the one who gave her the scar on her back." Rigo says, somewhat perplexed, at having to repeat the message a second time. "If that is too many words, then we are not using the same combination of math. If you need exactly 25, add that it is high priority, and then add 'over' as many times as needed to make it 25 words."
Once the circle is complete, Rigo asks the group as a whole. "Just answer yes or no. Did you participate in the murder of the Tabaxi in the Village you were in before being brought to this city? Did you know about it ahead of time? If you did know about it ahead of time, did you try to warn the victims, or report the murderers? Did you find out about it afterward? If you did, did you turn in the murderers? If you did not, did you know who did it, but still not tell the authorities?"
"No. No. N/A. Yes, you've told us all about it. No. When Moira gets to the last question, she tries to say "No," but can't. Strangely, neither can she say "Yes." She says, "I don't know why, but I can't say simply yes or no to that one." Which is the truth.
Aishe waits his turn, and speaks easily the whole incident having happened prior to his arrival in the village.
"No, No, No, Yes, No, No, I don't know who did it. It was just a story I heard."
Aishe too is telling the truth, though he wonders at the ambiguity of Moira's last answer. What does that even mean? he wonders.
He looks around the chamber, impressed at its size. Dwarves always seem to build large. Maybe they're overcompensating, but damn it looks good.
He waits for the others to finish.
Crossing her arms and glaring at Rigo, "No, no, no, no I only know about it now, no, no. Happy now?"
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As Salom enters the circle of truth-telling, a strange thing happens to him. He doesn't feel magicked or glammered, but only...only nostalgic. The way the light enters the dirty stained glass windows, the way the fabric of his clothes feels against his skin, the way his heart beats inside his chest, it reminds him of another time.
He stood before an altar. In a church, much like this one, but also unlike it. And the girl before him. Well, she was unlike anyone he's ever known. There was much he wanted to say in that moment. But there just wasn't time.
Time. Now that's a funny thing. The more one is given, the less one has.
"No."
"No."
"Objection, compound question."
"No."
"Objection, compound question."
"Objection, compound question."
Salom smiles dreamily out the window. "It seems we're out of time."
As the others enter, Audria grows more and more nervous. So much so that the magics take hold of her before she can even prepare some defense when she enters after all the others have gone. As Rigo asks his first, Audria tries to say that she wasn't involved, that she was not a part of the murder of Rigo's parents, but even the effort of trying to say the lie makes her head hurt.
"I... I don't know," she admits as she shies away from Rigo, wrapping her arms around herself.
"I don't know! I can't remember anything about myself from more than a year ago besides my name."
Rigo's eyes narrow at Salom's answers, and looks at Moira thoughtfully. "No, not happy. But won't talk of killing anyone who answered wholly and truthfully." He gives Salom a significant look, as he was the only one who refused to answer the rather straightforward questions. The big feline seems to shrink after that. "So will never get justice for family. So be it. Gods get to laugh."
Rigo's extremely dejected.
"Gods get to laugh."
Talisker sharply interrupts Rigo's angst.
"There's no place for blasphemy in Torag's house, lad!" Surprisingly, though, he seems to have softened toward Rigo since overhearing the questions posed in the interrogation. "Aye, yer a shook up young man, aren't ye? I shoulda chucked ye out by yer lugs auld lang syne, an moreso now, but I canna but feel that I have a message for ye as much as one to deliver for ye. The gods do laugh a times--Cayden 'ee laughs wi' Torag at the end of wark. But the good divines dinna laugh at suffrin'. Don' lose heart. Trust Torag, the law, an the good. An lad, ye should slow down. Good wark takes time, but it honors the maker."
He limps over to a locked cabinet, takes an fluted steel key from his pocket, and opens it. He's holding writing materials. Talisker laboriously scribbles Rigo’s message onto a tiny scrap of paper with a feather quill, saying:
"Fer instance, I've been askin' ye tae explain yer situation and ye refuse. I offer ye help, but ye don' seem to want tae listen tae the details. Then ye act upset when ye don' get the whole picture. Recall that ye were aboot to stomp out that door and remind yerself that Deacon Dram's patience is the sole reason yer message is getting sent today--even so poor a message as 'lad has message.' I'll send it by bird, no sense bustin' a Sending for such a message as tha, an' it'll go right swiftly anyhow."
He lifts the feather pen to the level of his eyes, going slightly crosseyed as he concentrates on it, speaks a command word, and shoves the message into the beak of the Bird Feather Token that is now in bird form. Talisker pushes open the front doors. It flutters out of the temple.
Turning to the party, he presents the bill. "Sixty gold for the spell, an' three hundred for the bird. I'll waive the cost o' the bird fer now, come back an' pay fer it if ye don' hear from Sillerswuird in a week or two--that'll mean she's denied ye, an yer a scoundrel if ye skip the tab. Sixty'll do ye fer now."
Moira approaches Rigo and tries to explain-- I'm... I'm sorry, Rigo. Let's get out of this place." She glares at Talisker as she hands over her ten gold.
Rigo digs into his pack, and pulls out his coin purse, and counts out 60 gold pieces from the 125 that was given to him from the 750 they got for taking the job about the ghoul whore. He stacks them up for the Deacon. "Not follower of Torag, just respect him." He looks the Deacon up and down. "Think he need to work on followers though, drunk Paladins and know it all Deacons so far. Expected better. Maybe just this temple, would make sense. Transfer all bad eggs one temple." He shrugs, and grins as he turns away from the Deacon, not caring if the others see the grin, as long as the Deacon doesn't. "Will be back in two days about message. Will be response, unless she dead. In which case, no message to deliver."
Rigo's eyes narrow at Salom's answers, and looks at Moira thoughtfully. "No, not happy. But won't talk of killing anyone who answered wholly and truthfully." He gives Salom a significant look, as he was the only one who refused to answer the rather straightforward questions. The big feline seems to shrink after that. "So will never get justice for family. So be it. Gods get to laugh."
"Yeah, that is a tough break Rigo. Still, if the accounts are correct, the whole village has been razed and its occupants imprisoned or killed. You may not have exacted your revenge personally, but the universe has balanced the scales none the less it seems."
Aishe gives Rigo 10gp, his share of the spell cost. "That's a lot of cash my friend, let me help with my share. After all, this is about the group of us who are left."
Not bothering to offer her coin to Rigo, this whole thing was cause he couldn't trust. Clinching her teeth at the nagging in her mind when Aishe hands over some coin, cause he is a good person.
Shifting from foot to foot as restless energy needs an escape. "Can we get going now. The gods gave Rigo his revenge in the slaughter of a whole village so that is done and over. You got it. Luck you. And so is my time here."
Turning and swiftly walking to the road but no further. Simply waiting for the others to leave the temple. Crossing her arms and fidgeting during her wait.
Alexis is the first to leave, her mood darker than the clouds above, out into the streets of the Blight once more... but the rest soon follow.
With the promise to return, and Deacon Talisker tutting behind him, Rigo leads the rest of the group from the temple... and out into a light drizzle that seems to have sent most of the populace running for the shelter of various cafes, libraries and bookshops. Those who are still on the streets are generally out because their jobs demand it - hod carriers, hansom cab drivers, tongawallahs... the boatswain, sheltering beneath his wide brimmed hat and against a statue of Torag, nods as Rigo leads everyone out into the street, "You ready to return? Or are you looking for anything else here in BookTown?"
Rigo fluffs up his fur, which gets wet on the outside, but the undercoat stays nice and dry, like most felines. Unlike most felines, he's not bothered by the water at all apparently. "Done yes, less someone else need something." He pauses, then looks around. "Any bookstores have books on languages, cheap? How speak and read?"
Seeing the drizzle, Audria's mood darkens further.
"Great, and I'm wearing a white tunic," she grumbles.
Rigo tilts his head at Audria, then turns to the guide. "And umbrella stand."
Salom follows along, whistling fiercely as he twirls his spear and carries Thea on his back. "Ah yes, Booktown! We should be remiss to fail to at least peek into a shop, hmm?"
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"Bookstore, please! Studying languages sounds fun! Shall we start an Elven study group? Or should we choose something really obscure and use it like a secret code? Also I want books on Castorhagian etiquette, local mourning and burial customs, werebeasts and how to get them to chill..."
Shuffling closer to Aishe, Moira whispers jauntily, "Maybe we can find secondhand copies of Madness, Clockwork, and You, or Diagnosing Amnesia in Cases of Adolescent-Onset Fire Power, perhaps The Cat Who Cried for Help (Tabaxi Edition), or Mama Grifter's How to Raise a Teenage Rogue... "
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"Opeta bardillesi, että hänellä on todella helppo huumorintaju 3 helppoa oppituntia." Rigo mutters in Elvish.
"Teach your bard to have an actual sense of humor in 3 easy lessons."
Aishe steps out into the rain and smiles. In prison, there was dripping. Tepid, metallic, and cold. This warm cleansing drizzle was another thing altogether and sharpened his resolve to avoid such places in the future.
When Moira slips next to him and whispers, he starts out of his revelry and laughs. When Rigo quips in Elvish he shrugs, "I really need to learn Elvish." he smiles at the big cat.
"That is a good question though Moira. Do we want to learn a code? I was going to try my hand at Elvish so I can get the jokes you all seem to be passing, but it could be something else too I suppose. Anyone have any suggestions? Elvish is very pretty though..."
"If want to speak where no one else understand, make up own language. If want to speak in code, make up own code. If just want to hide what speaking about from people on street, pick language not spoken anymore. Or pick something nobody want to speak, like Goblin." Then he rubs his chin. "Or pick 4 or 5 languages and mix words of each when talking."
[dice=Perception]1d20+3
"Opeta bardillesi, että hänellä on todella helppo huumorintaju 3 helppoa oppituntia." Rigo mutters in Elvish.
"Teach your bard to have an actual sense of humor in 3 easy lessons."
"More than three, I think," Salom replies in common.
"I do trust the notion of speaking in a rare, shared language. Perhaps something from the elemental planes to start. Rigo's mention of blending languages is novel, though it would be difficult to implement and understand. My current repertoire includes Dwarven, Elven, and Gnome, all commonly spoken in this urban menagerie, I am sure."
Shaking her head but moving with the group, again letting herself fall to the end of the chain. "Yep nobody ever thought to do this before."
Lacing both of her hands behind her head, "Sides doesn't learning a language like that take years?"
Moira gestures toward Rigo and Salom. "See! That's so cool! I'm really excited to learn languages together. An elemental language might be interesting... blub blub blub, shwoooosh, crackle crackle, thump bump." Moira waves her hands around, pantomiming each of the four elements. "I think I like Auran best of the four so far," she says, continuing to make windy whistles and whooshes for a moment.