Time, which happens to be precious. He is a construct, nothing more than a tool.
She says the last part with quite a bit of venom.
"Vertielle, that was uncalled for.
Have you no heart."
"Hokay, den. Hy hope hyu haff a lovely morning Mizz Imrijka."
I have a heart, Eva. One I was BORN with, not one taken from the dead and cobbled into a machine that pretends to be alive.
Vertielle leaves then, going back to studying the various timetables, testimonials, and other such documents she had retrieved earlier.
As Vertielle turns to leave, the creature speaks "I not machine. I not tool! I real."
His face shifts into an odd rictus as if laughing.
Sense motive everyone.
The stitches on it's, no his, face limit the range of emotions it can display, but you're sure of one thing.
He's not laughing.
He's crying.
Wood looks pensive and speaks up,
"Although my magical opinion would make me agree with Vertielle and attribute this to misguided anthropomorphism. I think Eva is in the right here."
Wood looks at the creature with renewed interest. "Smart people have discussed what it requires to be 'alive', 'aware', and 'intelligent'. I am beginning to think this creature may be all three."
Wood approaches the creature with a smile and shakes his hand. "How do you sir? You are not what I expected. We truly want to help you and free you. I think the most important start to helping you is to understand you. When did you first know you where intelligent and aware as much as the people around you? How did you come to be locked up and have to fight to escape?"
The Beast seems to ponder a bit. "Father. I did what he wanted, but...he...sent me away. I was angry. I get angry, I can't...I don't know what I do then. People always send me away...hurt me, I get angry, but they break easy. I thought, get learning, show them, but they don't listen. Children listen, but..." here his face contorts again in that odd laughing cry. "No, no, why? Not me, I take her back, but..." He doesn't seem able to continue with whatever thought that was.
"You need to tell us who father is, and who the woman is?"
Wood speaks in his kindest possible tone.
The Beast still seems locked into whatever thought brought about the emotions currently choking him and just shakes his head. He refuses to answer any more questions at this time.
Wood is looking for a magic shop.
"We need to find out who this father figure is and meet him. Then I need a Disguise Self scroll."
We may want several Divinations, as well. Speak with dead, Augury, Blood Biography...
"I also think Speak with dead would be a good idea."
Wood is excited to shop for magic in a new place.
He holds out his elbows in traditional escort style for Vertielle and Eva if they want to come.
Rova is unnerved by the whole affair; Rova understands he's 'not exactly normal', and has experienced similar situations. The fact the Beast's a construct doesn't seem to register as it's responses seem normal enough (except for that wierd cry/laugh thing).
"Long night, it is."
Gkirkhan and Zhiden are able to aquire transport for the group and meet with the Inquisitor back at the courthouse. As for the rest of you, you can find the scrolls you're looking for, but it will take two hours.
You shlud be able to move out at 2 PM. Morast is 8 miles east of Lepidstadt.
Gkirkhan introduces the others to Imrijka, pointing them out as he says their name.
"My frineds, dis lovely lady iz Imrijka. Imrijka, dese are my friends, Vertielle, Eva, Rova, Wood de Vizard, and Zhiden, de schneaky vun! Vatch out for dot vun, he vill steal all de ladies' hearts fi dey are not careful! Bot hyu probably knew dot vhen hyu say hem dis mornink."
Gkirkhan helps the ladies into the wagon before hopping in himself.
Zhiden's eyes went wide at hearing Gkirkhan describe him. Everyone in the group certainly knew it wasn't the case, but Zhiden wasn't too keen on having his name associated with such talk. A moment later, his expression changed, and he decided that it might be too late to prevent the proverbial horse from charging into a tree, but it might not be too late to have some fun with it.
A sly grin spread across Zhiden's face as he said, "Oh yeah, I've been trying to keep it a secret, but I suppose some things are too obvious to keep secret. To tell the truth, in Lastwall they call me Indigestion, because of all the young ladies whose hearts burn for me.
In the solituted of the wagon, Wood tries to copy a Disguise Self to his book.
Vertielle casts a spell that makes the inside of the wagon glow green for a split second, then climbs in with Gkirkhan's help.
Zhiden's joke was bad enough to elicit a groan from Gkirkhan of all people.
"Ugh, He iz goot vit de schneakink, not so much vit de jokes."
I'll soon be taking a journey to investigate evidence of desecration, during which it's possible some townsfolk were killed. I'd like to be able to speak of the event with the deceased.
You get some weird looks, but they sell you the scrolls. "If you do encounter proof of such desecration, report back to us immediately."
Vertielle smirks almost imperceptibly.
I shall inform an agent of the church as soon as any evidence is uncovered, she promises.
... The very moment I know, she continues, mostly to herself.
She sleeps in the carriage, knowing it could well be a lengthy night.
You arrive in Morast and meet with Headman Lazne (as per the previous posts). Does anyone else have more questions?
Wood explains, "I am looking for an adult male near the scene or having magic abilities in the town. He would be near the area the 'beast' first was spotted. Can you help me?"
"Nobody saw any strangers, ifn that's what ya mean. Anyone here that saw the creature never returned."
Rova speaks up, having set the wagon so it's parked.
"Ok, iff I kin summeriz dis, sumthin' was attackin' lone folks at night, then started breakin' inta houses, an' ya set a trap an' it ran off inta th' swamp where a 'caimen' wudever tha' is, dragged in under?"
"Yep. We chased it to th' boneyard an that's where one o th' biggest blood caimans I'd ever seen caught it and dragged it under, cussing ta best th' band."
He turns to Imrijka. "That's why we sent to the church. We figgered the land was contaminated an we want it reconsecrated."
She nods. "That's why I sent here. Can you take us there?"
Lazne nods. "Happy to. These folk coming too?
Some of us, surely, Vertielle pipes up.
The tall wizard looks at the townsfolk,
"How did it come to be in town in the first place, the beast?"
"Don't know. Must'a been livin in th' swamp. Who knows why a creature like that does what it does?"
"Hy vill."
Gkirkhan's face wears a mix of apprehension and excitement.
"Show us where he was discovered and the path of the chase."
"We are here for the truth, and that is all."
The headman looks over at the tall wizard. "That should be easy. I already told you...he fled through the swamp to the boneyard. The only way to reach it is by boat. If you all are coming, lets get going. I want our Boneyard cleansed."
The headman calls to the rest of the village and several other men arrive. You all load into smal coracles, one and a pilot to each and the headman leads the way to a tiny, miserable island rising from the swamp with a tangle of trees covering its dour, reed-chocked surface. Hundreds of fetishes hang from the trees - simple, roughly humanoid figures made of sticks and bound with twine. Larget fetishes are planted in the ground on various parts of the island, leaning drunkenly in the soft mud. A large nest built of sodden swamp wood sits high in the boughs of a trio of tangled trees on the northwest side of the isle.
The headman says "We'll be back in two hours. We've got to hunt a bit. Let us know if you'll need more time."
"Vell dis looks like a friendly fun-place."
Gkirkhan's sarcastic remark does little to hide the agitation manifesting as his thumb rubbing the head of his hammer.
Zhiden became more and more apprehensive as they approached the small island. By the time they'd arrived, his hands seemed glued to his weapons, and his eyes darted around as though he expected an ambush at every turn. He stayed with the others, very close at hand.
Vertielle whistles a merry tune completely at odds with the rest of the group, and hops ashore with a sick ker-plop of worn boots into sinking mud.
Wonder what a caiman looks like, she muses.
Evangline:
Rova:
Vertielle:
Wood:
Zhiden: In
Evangline:
Rova:
Vertielle:
Wood:
Zhiden: In
Everyone except Rova stumbles across the remains of an old campsite. Around a smal firepit you find a waterskin half full of wine, the aged remins of some trail rations, and a curious glass vial.
The bottom of the vial still contains the dried remains of a green substance smeling vaguely of carrots.