"To Percival she adds, "Very eager. You should pay her a visit if I'm not to your tastes."
Cerise, Chaetris and Kael make their way up to the hill to Allustan's charming red and deep blue abode. The light rain splashes softly into the pools in the meditation garden out front where a well-composed wizard sits cross-legged, watching you approach. Short hair with a long, meticulously groomed beard, Allustan regards you with a serene expression. As you approach, you notice that the wizard is somehow completely dry. And it's not as if the rain is running off to the side or falling through him. It's like the rain hits him, but his hair and red robes are not damp in the slightest.
The retired wizard stands up calmly and awaits your approach. His charismatic voice is not at all as gentle as you expect given the environment, but it is very friendly.
"Greetings and welcome! What brings you to my abode?"
He has the definite air of someone who doesn't need to be the slightest bit threatened by the approach of a group of people with weapons.
The half-orc regards the wizard curiously, mentally deciding, Wizards are weird... And I hope this one can't hear what I'm thinking....
Kael looks to his companion, then in their absence, speaks up. "A good and dry day to you... my companions and I have come upon an assortment of magical and esoteric goods for which you might be interested in purchasing. Or at least know who might be a buyer."
"I do not suppose I'll be visiting Constance," Percival says rather formally, hastily adding, "wouldn't be especially fun."
"Uh," Percival begins hesitantly, choosing his words very carefully, "Pythia...I think we're going to go places. You know...leave...this place. That's my plan after we, uh, finish what we started," he glances at Prose, smiling faintly and nodding silently, "don't you want to come with us?"
"Hmm?" Pythia asks Percival. "You want me to leave with you?" She smiles widely. "I go where fate leads me, Percy, my dear! It led me here, it led me there and when it leads me elsewhere, I'll go." She shrugs as if that were obvious.
"Yes, well...you will go where you're fated to be, as will I, as will all of us. But I don't see why that would impact your decision about leaving with us?" Percival seems to be becoming more comfortable with the idea of talking about leaving, comforted that no one has told him he's being stupid yet.
Pythia smiles. "Now you're talking sense! See?"
With a look at Purple Prose she remarks, "He's catching on."
Percival laughs politely, looking down and branding himself "sensible." He looks back up, turning to Prose and nodding. "A few days off and who knows what after is good, then?"
The mysterious elf watches the exchange between Percival and Pythia with one eyebrow raised. With a smooth and very casual motion, Purple Prose is suddenly standing and flows around the desk and up to the trio. With a calm cock of her head, she manages both to look polite and dangerous. She speaks almost as though she is musing aloud to herself.
"Finish what you started... Pythia dear, what have you been up to?"
Her calm serenity is almost tense with its implication.
Kael looks to his companion, then in their absence, speaks up. "A good and dry day to you... my companions and I have come upon an assortment of magical and esoteric goods for which you might be interested in purchasing. Or at least know who might be a buyer."
The wizard breaks his calm regard with an almost sly smile. "Ah... yes. I am dry, but you are not. Very keen." With that the wizard beckons you follow him with a gesture and steps briskly toward his front door. "Come. We can continue our discussion inside... where you will also be dry."
Allustan holds the door open for you to enter and uses a cantrip to dry each of you... and his floor.
Inside, his foyer has the definite design of one who doesn't mind subtly flaunting his comfortable wealth. Almost like a big vaunted library, this room must take up the majority of the house. There are more books in one place here, than anywhere else in Diamond Lake. In the center of the room is a large table with chairs around it. A few books sit here and there on the table, though not enough to give the place a disorganized look.
The wizard beckons you to take a seat at the table with him.
"Please... have a seat. You said magical and esoteric items?" His expression appears calm and friendly.
"Same as always," Pythia replies with a happy smile. "Would you like to see my dream symbols?! Oh, there's a great many I haven't tried to show you yet! And I haven't written any on my skin, just like I promised!" She nods enthusiastically.
As she reaches into her pack to pull out her scribblings, she continues, "Although I highly doubt I'll be done with them anytime soon! Dreams don't just stop!" Pythia laughs at both Percival and Purple Prose as if the thought of ever stopping were absurd.
Pythia proceeds to pull out some of her frantically scribbled paperwork from her backpack--paperwork she has no doubt shown Purple Prose (and every whore on staff) on many occasions.
"Oh! Also, I visited a couple graves and killed a man-eating owlbear." Pythia shows off her torn, bloody dress as proof of this.
Then she looks down to the owlbear and coos, "Didn't I, baby?"
As always, Pythia seems completely insane.
Chaetris enters Allustan's home with Kael and Cerise. Stepping into the foyer she doesn't even notice when Allustan's magic dries her. Instead her attention is focused on the library. With her eyes wide she wanders the room gently touching the books and reading the titles before sitting at the table with the former adventurer.
Chaetris begins with an awkward stutter. "Um, sir. Thank you. Er, we think we may have found an unexplored crypt. Well, at least unsuccessfully explored anyway." She quickly looks around to make sure no one else is around. Suddenly realizing she may already have said too much. "We may have run into a bit of an issue though." And then the floodgates open and the whole exploration comes pouring out in a mad rush.
The mysterious elf lets out a long sigh and rests her face in her hand briefly. With a shake of her head, she looks at Pythia again with a frown.
"I think perhaps it is best if you did not come to work tonight. If your fate... is to lead you with this young man, you should follow it."
With a not-so-subtle roll of her eyes, Purple Prose returns gracefully to her desk.
"Now if you would kindly remove that creature from my place of business."
The baby owlbear begins nibbling on some of the flower decorations to which the Lady gives you a very stern look.
The middle-aged wizard listens intently to Chaetris' story, making for a very attentive and engaged audience, including several keen questions to clarify various situations when appropriate. The story complete, he rubs his chin thoughtfully for a moment before commenting almost as if to himself.
"It sounds like you've made quite a unique discovery in this tomb. The Wind Dukes are ancient and mysterious entities. There may be a lot we can learn from them. I would be very interested in seeing it someday."
Breaking his self-musing, he takes on a more brisk tone. "But... it sounds like you have more pressing matters. A necromancer in town, perhaps? You should be careful. Hmmm... in the interest of discretion, I'll give you a fair price for any 'magical and esoteric' items you may have and if you promise to take me to this tomb of yours in the near future, I'll leave my door open to you in case you run into trouble. Let's say, sometime in the next two months?"
His friendly smile does little to hide his intense curiosity in the tomb, though you're sure if he really wanted to, he could find it on his own. A man of honor, then? Or perhaps he's just lazy.
"Oh. Well, alright, then. Goodbye!" Pythia remarks. "Come along then, baby browl."
Pythia guides the owlbear back outside with Percival.
"Looks like I'm fired," she tells Percival once they're outside. "You know, fate led me there. There's a symbol on the door and..." She smiles lightly, but looks a little melancholy. "Well, I knew that was the reason I was here. I was meant to be there. I had foreseen it."
Then she smiles with excitement. "But, it looks like it's time to move on. That map. The sigils showed me that's where I was meant to be next and I know that when we're done there, I'm going to have more to do. I'm meant for something more. And I think you're right, Percival. I think that more is going to be with you. And the others."
With a twinkle in her eyes she finishes "We're going to find our destiny together!"
She dances happily in the road, stomping mud under her leather shoes.
Kael opens his mouth to try to caution the more talkative investigator; after all, they hadn't completely cleared out the cairn and there were still some of the most interesting parts were yet to remain! Yet there was no putting the proverbial djin back in the bottle... or words back in an elf's mouth. He remains mute as Chaetris talks, and then mulls over the wizard's response. He takes a very long time to consider his next words, then responds.
"You have been more than generous... which is almost unexpected in a town like this. I'm used to looking for a catch in any show of generosity, but you seem honorable. Which is why I ask you two things. First: while attempting to learn more about the grave robber, we discovered an owlbear, which we were forced to dispatch. With it, though, we found a baby owlbearcub. It has sort of taken one of our party as a surrogate mother for now, but it's likely we'll need to find a more permanent home for it. Do you know anyone that would be interested in purchasing it or training it?"
Even more difficult than finding a home for their newfound pet comes next: "Second, these Wind Dukes. Do you know much more about them? Or what this might mean?" He lifts up his chainmail enough to show the tattoo on his arm, then lowers it.
The old wizard nods sagely at Kael's questions. "Your first question is easy. Fester has been known to catch and train exotic creatures. He'll be your best bet, if you can find him." Allustan smirks gently at this before continuing.
"The second question is not so. The simple answer would be to say that the Wind Dukes of Aaqa are long past gone and anything you find of them is ancient history and no more. But it is never so simple. The impact they left on the world was significant. The Rod of Seven Parts is likely still hidden in the world, scattered in pieces, though nobody knows the truth to that for certain." With that, he gives a shrug. "Let's say for now that you simply found a remnant of an ancient culture and it means nothing more. I may have a different answer for you after I have done some research and have seen the tomb for myself."
"Baby browl," Percival nods at Prose as he leaves, feeling somewhat responsible for Pythia now that he's helped to get her fired. He listens as Pythia chatters on, "our destiny." Percival repeats again, keeping pace and keeping an eye on the owlbear, who he quickly picks up. "Shall we visit the Feral Dog? Buisness, pleasure, bit of both. Though perhaps we ought to keep the owlbear a secret...eh...it's probably too late." Percival pets the creature disdainfully, as though he regrets liking it, "The others will catch up eventually."
"It's as good a place as any." Pythia remarks with a smile.
"Come along, Browl! Destiny awaits!" She exclaims, pointing towards the Feral Dog. Then she sets off, trudging through the mud down the street.
Chaetris looks a little chagrined for a moment "Sorry, I didn't mean to just ramble on like that. I have a copy of The Chronicles of Chan on order with Taggin. Just think it's supposed to be here by the end of the week. If that'll help."
"Once we are sure the tomb is safe, we'd be happy to give you a tour. At the moment it isnt a very hospitable place." Cerise said wryly.
She turned to the rest of the group. "We should probably go find Percival and see what trouble Pythia has gotten him into soon."
Chaetris looks a little chagrined for a moment "Sorry, I didn't mean to just ramble on like that. I have a copy of The Chronicles of Chan on order with Taggin. Just think it's supposed to be here by the end of the week. If that'll help."
The sage smiles gently and nods. "You should bring it by when you get it. That volume should be quite revealing. I skimmed a copy once, long ago."
Allustan looks about and frowns slightly. "I have some matters I should have attended to earlier, but you should return, and with your friends, when you have settled things. Do you have any other questions before you go?"
It's as polite a dismissal as you've probably gotten in a long while.
Chaetris stands and makes a small bow. "I don't think I do. Thank you very much for your time. We have a few more stops to make here in town as well."
15 Patchwall – 595 CY – Starday – Late Afternoon
The trek down the street to The Feral Dog in the dreary weather reminds you exactly why this place is so terrible. There's nothing happy or exciting going on whatsoever. The people who walk by occasionally barely spare you a glance as they rush to their destination. Those that do notice you, glare at you as if in a challenge.
There's nothing welcoming about Diamond Lake.
When you reach the square, there's a little more activity, though none any more friendly. The buildings crowded around all show signs of habitation, though you can't help but notice that The Feral Dog is almost dead quiet compared to the church next door. Not that there's a ton going on there either, but whatever song the few inside are singing sounds anguished at best.
Three patrons sit at the bar talking with the rough-looking bartender, Gorvic.
"Eh... yer dog looks abit weird. If you wan'im ta fight, take'im downstairs ta get kenneled til'tonight."
The rest of the patrons scowl at you but say nothing.
"Oh, he's not here to fight. We're waiting for someone." Pythia explains. She urges baby Browl over the the table in the corner . "Come along boys, this looks like a good table."
Once they're seated Pythia leans over to Percival and whispers, "Do you have any money? Cause I don't."
Pythia wanders over to the bar to hit on the patrons and the barkeep in the hopes of one of them buying her a drink.
She smiles sweetly and throws an arm around one of the men's shoulders. "Hey boys! Rough day? Which one of you lucky fellows is going to buy me a drink?"
With little else to do at the moment, Kael joins his companions heading towards the Feral Dog. He still had some reservations from the -last- time he was there; someone tried to pick a fight with the half-orc. Not the first time, nor certainly the last, but it still made him grit his teeth as he entered the unsavory den of the drunken despondent. Seeing his other companions, he approached Pythia and Percival. "Did you find out what you needed? And... did anyone remember to get some lamp oil?"
Percival pats his pockets, then pulls his pack around and starts looking through it. After some time, he gives up. "Um...I do not. But usually we can order and then pay at the end, once we're ready to leave, by which time our friends will have gotten here with some money." He eyes the other people in the bar, not wanting to let them know that an unexplored dungeon has been found. "Um, Pythia?" Percival leans over until he's extremely close, whispering almost inaudibly in her ear. "I'm not sure if we've already mentioned this, but remember not to let anyone know what we found, okay? It's our secret, and our destiny, not theirs." Percival glances back around one more time at the other patrons. Not that we deserve it more than them, but they'd probably get themselves killed if they tried to go exploring like we did.
By the time Kael arrives at the Feral Dog, Percival has surely figured out some way to get an ale in hand and another in his belly. "Hey there," he says cheerily, "we haven't gotten the lamp oil yet. Come, sit at the table for a minute." Percival sits back down, relaxed now that he's had a few minutes with his pack off and his legs resting. "We've got not a copper between us, as it turns out, we were just wondering if you've got any on you?" Percival makes sure to keep his voice relatively quiet and an eye on the other patrons, in case they prick their ears up.
The bartender scowls at Pythia's response. "Eh.. whatever ya say. Well... ya either gotta muzzle'im or leave'im outside, then." The burly man doesn't look like the kind of guy who has a lot of patience.
-------------------
Pythia does a good bit of flirting with the lonely patrons at the bar and manages to get drinks for herself and Percival, somehow. You'd think that a blood-covered wench would have trouble, but this seems to be just the right environment for it not to matter. It's entirely possible that the blood is helping her cause, even. When the others arrive, both Percival and Pythia have had a few drinks already.
Pythia shrugs and wraps the rope around baby Browl as if it were a muzzle, but it's only for looks. It doesn't really do anything and isn't tight at all.
Pythia performs an erotic dance for the men at the bar, and disappears with one of the patrons for a while into a back room.
Eventually she returns with a few drinks for she and Percival, which she sets down on the table with a smile.
"There you go!"
When they run out of drinks, Pythia manages to get a few refills for 'free.' Or, more correctly, she doesn't have to pay any further for them.
By the time the others arrive Pythia and Percival have an array of empty mugs on the table around them. Pythia's more than a little tipsy.
"Hey, Kael!" She remarks with a smile. "You missed the dancing!" She waves a mug at him. "No need to lend Percy coin, I paid already."
Noticeably, her armour is sticking out of her backpack, her shield is on the floor beside her chair, and she's wearing clean clothes--if they can be called that. They don't cover much. Too short, too low cut, and sleeveless, Pythia's tiny dress has more in common with a shirt than a proper dress.
Percival waits while Pythia dances, neither staring lewdly nor ignoring her completely. Mostly, he pesters Gorvic to go ahead and give him alcohol ahead of time.
"Hey Pythia, you should probably change back into your armor, if you're going to be drinking." Percival's tone is friendly, as he's grateful for the drinks.
Cerise did not particularly like the Feral Dog. When she had first come to town a few days ago, she'd naively thought it was just the sort of place to find rough sorts who wouldn't mind helping her with her exploration of the tomb. Instead her purse had been stolen and she'd found a certain prophetic prostitute.
Good and bad fortune, in equal measure I suppose, she mused to herself. Still, a part of her wanted to burn the whole seedy tavern down.
"Looks like we ought to go get some oil before the shops close, eh Kael?" Percival finishes his drink and stands up, "shall we all go together? Perhaps we can just wait until tomorrow."
15 Patchwall – 595 CY – Starday – Evening
There is only the slightest trickle of activity in warning. A few miners here and there arriving early. But as you are enjoying your drinks in relative peace and quiet, it happens.
Like torrent from a broken dam, the miners flood through the door almost all at once. It's as if the entire town has an appointment here and they're late. The patrons file in and start filling up chairs, several of them bringing muzzled dogs and dragging them downstairs. Curiously, the table in the middle of the room remains completely empty.
Soon, it becomes apparent why, as a few minutes after the flood of patrons, another group enters the tavern. Lead by a towering albino half-orc the four of them all have numerous bandages wrapped around various appendages. Behind the half-orc follows a quiet, wiry man with long, clumpy black hair that falls over his large eyes. Next, a shorter, stocky man with his short, brown hair cut into a flat-top. An angry red scar marks the left side of his sneering face from the forehead to the tip of the chin. Finally, a balding, loose-clothed man with a scowl. The group casually takes a seat at the open table, only the wiry man so much as glancing at you. Unlike the rest of the miners, these four don't seem to be covered in dirt. The half-orc has a very familiar brand on his forehead.
Percival looks down at the bottom of his most recently emptied mug, it's been a long night already. "Okay, okay, we stop drinking now, and then in a half-hour or so, after he's had a few, we go talk to him. The marked one, that is. Wouldn't want to give him an edge."
Percival begins to play with the baby owlbear, trying to see if he can get it to bite him without actually causing it much distress. He's oblivious to the fact that an owlbear cub is a sure sign to anyone paying attention that their little group has recently been to an abandoned farm.
Kael glances around, then looks back at his drink, sipping it lightly. "Sounds like a plan. What exactly were we going to be asking about, again?" The half-orc shrugs as he tries to remain unobtrusive. "I know that his buddy was probably the one that... Browl's... mother ate. And there's a grave robber around. Is it just to see if the two were related?"
Pythia giggles, cheeks rosy from liquor. "I don't remember." She puts an arm around Percival and whispers loudly into his ear: "Do you remember?"
Suddenly Pythia gasps and swats Percival's hand away from Browl.
"Hey, you... troublemaker! I'm trying to get him off human meat, not onto you!"
Pythia makes a kissy face at Browl and says in a silly voice, "Don't you nibble on that silly, little, man! Don't you do it! Don't eat Percy!"
She tosses him some rations.
"Mmmmm!" she says to Browl.
The baby owlbear is happy to nibble on anything put in front of it, human or not. Surprisingly, the creature seems relatively calm despite the commotion, though it gets rather unhappy if Pythia moves away from it too fast, extremely unhappy. Like, wailing, gnashing, biting, get thrown out of the tavern type of unhappy. The afternoon crowd turned out to be perfectly content to let Pythia bring it with her for whatever... endeavors she wanted to go... do.
Remarkably, the albino and his companions don't seem to notice the creature standing small beside Pythia at your table. They seem content to drain mugs of ale and banter loudly about nothing.
Very shortly after the bar fills up, a group of people gather near your table and begin tossing daggers at the back wall in a competition of sorts, though it's mostly small games for copper coins.
The gathering is made up of mostly humans but has a couple of unusual attendants. One, a female elf with a nimble figure and an air of casual competence, the other a boastful little halfling that seems to be able to back it up well with his tosses. It's hard not to hear their conversation, though it's mostly a mix of boasting and complaining about work.
"We're going to ask him what he was doing at the old land family estate digging up graves." Percival stands up, "Come on, friends, we should be on equal terms by now." Draining the last of his final mug, pinky finger raised daintily, carful not to spill any, Percival looks himself over. He's long since changed out of his bloody armor, and the white shirt underneath is still quite clean. His pants are flecked with red and have mud at the ankles, but they'll do just fine.
Leading the way, Percival arrives at the table in front of the white half orc. "We were, um...what were we doing again?" Percival suddenly turns away, not showing his back but not showing much respect either, looking at Pythia. "Something about an owl...no...a bear. Or maybe..." Percival looks back at the half orc, genuinely confused for a second. "A bearowl?" He finally says, nodding.
Cerise shut her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose like she had a headache. She'd been quite content to let the others take the lead while interacting with people in this awful place, but drunken Percival combined with Pythia just being herself was a recipe for disaster.
She got up and joined Percival, slipper his arm into hers to help steady him.
"An owlbear, dear. You're getting ahead of yourself," she corrected gently, focusing on the pale half-orc and giving him a winsome smile. "What my friend here was trying to say is that we saw that same marking on another man yesterday and were curious about it. It looks fearsome. There must be quite a story behind it."
Kael wanders up behind Percival, staring down the opposite half-orc, his hands open but clearly adopting the role of 'heavily armed, hired muscle.' He leans over on a table looking almost bored, picking at the grain of the wood of the table with his thumb.
Need to have a united front in this one, I think
Percival is slightly alarmed when Cerise takes hold of him, but smiles distractedly and places a hand gently on her shoulder. He tries not to put too much weight on her, standing relatively straight with his other hand awkwardly at his side, looking up at the half-orc occasionally. This is complicated.
Pythia is--at the moment--oblivious to her companions conversation with the half-orc, so enthralled is she with speaking to her feathered baby.
The albino half-orc immediately scowls and stands up from his chair, giving you an intimidating glare. Towering over you with his greataxe leaning nearby, it's not the safest you've felt in recent history.
"And why should I care about you?"
Not the most elaborate reply, he phrases it somewhat as a challenge.
His friends, except for the robed one, casually get to their feet as well. The seated balding man suppresses a smirk.
Percival is used to being tall, and a moment ago, looming over Cerise, he felt tall. Now, as the half-orc rises to his feet, Percival seems to shrink slightly, receeding into his drunkness and wobbling slightly. "Umm..." he begins, scrambling for an answer, "we care about you? And it seems like you're getting into some trouble, we should probably," Percival looks around, "should probably talk about this somewhere we won't be overheard." Looking up slowly, Percival is suddenly still and focused. "Wouldn't want any of these patrons getting dismembered like your friend."
Kael rises to his full height as well, shifting and stretching a bit to show off the ripples of his muscles under his fortified chainmail and his impressive display of weaponry. He looks to Percival and snorts. "Care is probably a strong word." He turns to the thugs. "Look, we just killed the thing that ate someone with a mark just like that one." He pauses and points at the brand. "We just. Want. To. Talk." The half-orc holds himself ready, like a potential dervish of death. The greataxe made him cautious, but backing down at this point would surely make them targets. When staring down an alpha of the pack, you needed to present yourself as someone that was too much effort to attack.
Noticing the ruckus, Pythia stumbles over to the group, still dressed in her work uniform.
"Oh, are we making friends?" she asks drunkenly. Noticing the tall half-orc she wanders up to him. "Am I making friends with you?"
"Oh! That mark! We found that mark, you know, and THAT means they want to ask you about... that!" She scrunches up her nose. "I can't remember. Someone got me drunk."
Assessing the half-orc she says, "You don't look like you want to talk. You look like you want to fight. Will you talk for a lap-dance?"