Unbolath ponders the man's words. Clearly a dilemma, and likely something to be investigated. His assigned responsibility was to make sure the wagon and the livestock arrived safely at its destination. What to do with the prisoners, extra mouths to feed. People to watch and potentially watch out for, criminals, petty perhaps if Burt was to be believed, but some may be dangerous. Perhaps sensing the potential freedom, apt to attempt a risky maneuver. Did Unbolath have any duty to turn them in, or set them free? He wasn't even a citizen, or for that matter even from this world, or plane. A universe of grey...
"So, you're all aware of its contents and working for someone who's interested. I'm only the latter, so if you don't mind..." Derrick sighs and steps over to the wagon, prepared to remove the tarp and see whatever's underneath.
Valind's face screws up in an almost comical expression of anger as the prisoner speaks
" what you say is true, then the company is almost certainly acting outside of Aeromnian law! Violating the rights of Due Process for Aeromnian citizens, falsely imprisoning individuals, and engaging in the practice of slavery for profit are all serious charges! Heads should roll!"
"I assume there were no Valindorians present at this penal colony of yours?"
Thikka snorts. "If there are, cleric, then they're criminals too. Sounds like some guards and jailers and company folk need to be taken out and horse whipped before they're hung." She continues holding her hand under the cloth covering the wagon's load, waiting for Bhen to come back and report. She tilts her head, looking thoughtful. "I suppose we could have a trial, if you really feel it needed."
"!" the halfling grunts "Of course there has to be a trial! That's what makes it Law! Without it society simply becomes a violent anarchic contest of strength!"
Thikka snorts. "Or we help people faster because the murdering rapist doesn't get off on some legal technicality some fast talking lawyer thought up." She spits. The tone of voice reserved for 'lawyer' is about the same tone that most people would reserve for 'bottom feeding demon spawn hell maggots'. She eyes Valind thoughtfully, as if trying to figure out if he is a lawyer as well as being a delusional cleric.
Minerva didn't look up, she had her own opinion on laws and such,
but perhaps it was not best to comment given her fiendish demeanour and illicit proclivities.
Instead she bent further over drawing and tries to subtly hide her face further;at the same time she moved to shuffle her more illegal paraphenalia deeper into her more well hidden spots.
Ritmush sits on the cliff and listens to the various conversations.
Huh, lots going on here. The not hairy halfling Vain-lend seems to have some ideas about "Rules". Boring.
I wonder whats in the crate though... bet its bacon. Nobody can resist bacon.
I can hear well-ish from here but I guess if I want more information I have to go down there. Guess I gotta' be careful wha'I say though as the hairy not-a-midget looks like she wants an excuse.
Ritmush sets his crossbow down and retrieves a rusty morning star from his back. He cautiously jumps down the cliffs ridges and moves to a comfortable distance from the group.
"Hrmm... does this mean I gotta feed em'my bacon or not?" ritmush asks mostly to himself. Looking to the nearest raider he hems and haws for a moment, rocking on his heels before speaking "Hey when yer' friend said dragon-men did he mean them guys with the big frills an' shiny yellow eyes?"
Please, just be careful
Thikka's eyes narrow, and she casts a cantrip. She stares at the wagon. Looking at her sleeve, she has Bhen step back onto the wagon from her sleeve. Looking at him, she wills him to show her where he went, using both her empathy from a familiar, and her empathy with rats, to get the idea across.
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Portia, looks on as the contents of the wagon go from normal to the bizarre in a matter of seconds. She looks on, not knowing what she sees, then it all clicks, at once.
She looks around, nervously as there are new faces amongst her group. Could she trust them she wondered. Derrick, Valid, Sithudan, and a few others were with her from the beginning. But what about Thikka, this strange Ritmush character, and Minerva and the others. Will they think she crazy, or can they be trusted.
After a few stressful moments, she decides that these newcomers went into battle with her against these prisoners and slaves. The could be trusted...hopefully she wasn't wrong.
Guys, guys. Derrick, Valind, take a close look at these strange artifacts and gizmos. They look like the other ones don't they. The other ones from the other night. And think back to the other night, when we went spelunking. One of the prisoners said the Dwarf's name was . How many Dwarves would have the exact same name? Derrick, Valind, you remember don't you?
Thikka holds out a paw to Bhen, and let's him crawl back up he sleeve. "There is something odd about that box. It's interfering with my attempts to analyze it. It's forcing me to push my senses somewhere else away from it. Also, when Bhen enters it, he vanishes from the world, then reappears when he exits it. I believe this box is highly dangerous, especially as it appears to have some way of forcing those around it to avoid directing their attention to it."
Ritmush tilts his head in the direction of the raider. "Well yeah, ah course I's know about them. Big dumb lizard heads couldn't turn an' search a bush if it'd save their life. They live way up north an' they are big lazy jerks."
Minerva can't help but get curious, and stands to get a little look into the wagon as she goes for a fresh charcoal stick.
She can't help but frown.. odd magical junk was never good. Though a nice chest, even a simple box was... interesting.
She sat back down to continue drawing, drawing her cloak tighter around herself and tugging her gloves a little bit more firmly on, itching at something on the back.
Hmm...this box is extremely interesting
Rolandor casts detect magic and concentrates, trying to identify the type of magic
Unbolath walks over to the wagon as well, joining the others in the analysis. He glances at the items and the box. After listening to the others and Portia, and attempting to piece together the story fragments he asks the elves "Why do you have these things? What do you hope to accomplish with them?"
"The box may be an extradimensional space. Perhaps for magical efficient storage. Or it may have a more nefarious purpose. Perhaps a prison of sorts."
Derrick's frown increases as he uncovers more and more of the strange artifacts, recognizes their form and appearance. Victor's cryptic warning makes Derrick pause for a moment in his visual search, and although he doesn't understand the man's words, he grasps their meaning.
The young man looks up at Portia's comment and question and nods. "Yes, I remember. The creatures... and Karl, yes. This just gets worse and worse..."
In a flash, he's rounded on the elves in charge of the wagon, his eyes burning with anger. "You. You're smuggling dangerous artifacts away from company property, most likely with intent to sell or otherwise use them for poor purposes. Our priest can read you your rights and decide what exact wrongs you've done, but say what you have in your defense."
You’ve got it all wrong, soldier, Wiani says holding her hands up defensively in front of her. We never knew what was in the wagon, exactly, we only suspected. Please let me try to explain. Give me a chance. This might be hard to understand, but you’ve got to believe me. My real name is Elsinore Hughes, and my associate is Miguel Danvers. We are not from this world. We resemble your worlds elves well enough that we were selected for duty here. We work for an organization known as the Interplanetary Relief Society and …
Victor takes a step up behind Derrick and points at the elves, smiling he says, I knew you guys were IRS the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew it.
Let me finish, please the woman you know as Waini goes on. Our organization first received a report of unusual technology being found on this planet three years ago. Six months ago one of our agents came to Fort Horizon on a tip. She filled several reports and then went missing. Miguel and I were sent here to find out what might have happened, under cover, in disguise. We learned about the WEAC’s role in recovering these unusual artifacts, and as far as we can tell everything they are doing follows protocols monitored by the IRS. Then we learned that the Captain of the fort was selling artifacts to an unknown buyer by smuggling recovered items out of the fort. That’s when we concocted the story of us wanting to move to Mystic Valley. We believe that the captain’s contact for selling these items is in Mystic valley. We suspected the shipment was going to include such artifacts be we did not know exactly what would be included. We were going along for the ride in hopes of uncovering the captain’s contact and what was happening to the artifacts. Now maybe your friend Victor there can explain what he knows. For all I know he is the captain’s contact. I’m telling you the truth, and I’ll cooperate with you in any way I can, but I need to find out who these objects were going to and why.
Thikka eyes both people, watching for telltales, increased pulse rate, sweat, eyes flickering in the wrong direction, and other indicators of people lying or caught in a lie or being correctly accused of a crime.
"Inter?" Valind asks, overcome by what he's hearing.
Ritmush looks up from to hear the last half of the conversion engulfing the wagon.
"Yousha' really pick easier lies ta tell when you're hopin' ta get outta somethin'. Though I gotta say ya gave tha' one some thought, not heard tha' many words on such ah obvious lie in a long time."
the young human says, turning to the humn named Victor"I like your friends hat though, its real nice. An'hes real good at lookin' angry at cha' I bet he was gonna say 'Once we get ta'town I'll handle their arrest' then ya all vanish on tha wind." Ritmush finishes, seeming to have arrived at an answer he is willing to believe.
If you’ll let me examine those goggles on your head, for a moment, I can perhaps show you that I am telling the truth.
Ritmush blinks for a moment, before looking to the very strange woman.
Wonder when she's gonna realize the holes deep enough already. Lies are hard ta do when ya start with the outlandish to begin with. shrugging he walks over to the cart"Sure, they're jus an ol'pair I picked up in the forest. Good fer keepin' the sun outta yer eyes and mutin' bright things." The young man says as he removes the goggles, buffing a lens that had become slightly fogged before handing it over to the woman. "Jus' don' break 'em I like those an' I dunno where I'd find anotha' pair. An'if yer gonna be doin' magic tricks ya wanna tell me where these came from?" ritmush says as he removes several odd looking gold coins from a belt pouch "Traders always look at me weird when I use 'em an' no one's be able ta' place em."
Thikka waves a paw. "Oh, I think you're telling the truth. But just because you think you're telling the truth doesn't mean you're not brain addled." She says with a wave. "Inter Planet Airy. Planet is an old word for world. Planet Airy, well we certainly have air. Unless you're using -ary as a suffix. In that case, it would mean 'to do with planets', or world like, or worldly." She speaks out load, puzzling through the odd term. "Interworldly... Ah, interplanar. She is not from this plane, she's from another plane. That would actually make much more sense." Thikka says, finally feeling she's puzzled out the woman's strange words. "So these devices are from your world, and you are tasked with tracking them down and making sure they are not taken to other worlds?"
"Oh! Inter" he pauses "Wait... Interplanary? You're interplanar?"
Unbolath nods, not particularly fazed by the concepts discussed. "So as I understand it, assuming the team here works through this and agrees, your plan is to continue to Mystic Valley and attempt to ferret out the Captain's contact? Oddity of the scenario and surrounding circumstances aside, I would lend my aid where able, although I no longer consider myself bound by my original contract due to the nature of the cargo and intent of the mission."
Unbolath turns to the prisoners, staring at them for a bit, pondering their situation, but ultimately says nothing.
Portia, stands there slightly slack-jawed at the events unfolding. Strange artifacts, such as those found in the cavern. Inter...planetary something or other. The Captain, smuggling these weird artifacts out to somebody for something... her head start to throb at all the information just dumped on her.
Portia, whistles, and Issabelle swoops down, and lands on her shoulder. Portia sits down, feathery friend in tow, and she grabs her waterskin and takes a swallow from it, and offers a cap full to her loyal companion.
Portia, "pets" her on the head, You're not from somewhere beyond my comprehension are you, Issy?
Droka speaks up: "Actually, he doesn't mean he's from another plane. I am, but he is not. I hail from the Shadow Plane, and back home we know of other places that are not connected to Riom but can only be reached via shadow travel. Some of them are hostile to life in most of its forms, but others contain beings much like ourselves. I take it you two are from one of these places, but how did you manage to learn the secrets of shadow jumping? You're clearly not of my people."
I have heard of beings able to transition between planes, although I am not familiar with the exact inner workings and know-how to do it. I had heard about such things in my studies, but thought little of it at the time. These items here are truly odd and pose a real issue...as in what do we do now?
"dunno why grass would be 'hostile' ta life. well 'less yer talkin about grass with giant flaming gophers hidin'in em or somethin. I bet thos'd be deadly." The young human states*
"An'grass fields or shadow fields. Livin in their giant cloud tower or tha'lights a tha'stars themselves I wanna see what the grassland lady is gonna show meh."
The scruffy looking one says, eyes focused intently on the now declared Agent Hughes, waiting for whatever she will use.
Wanna see this trick, bet its gonna be great.
*
Ritmush look from 'rough stoney guy' to the now labeled rat person mouth open eyes glinting as he starts to ask a question "Wha.."
She lights people on fire, an'shes got a big stick. Maybe I should ask her what witch cursed her to be a giant talking rat later. I mean it's not like anythin' like a rat person was BORN a rat person. Tha'd just be weird.
Oh, I bet she likes cheese. Or maybe bacon. Oh BACON CHEESE! Huh... anyway I should probably ask her when I got a convenient rock to jump behind. I dun' like bein' on fire or at least I don'think I would, Beardy guy was on fire once and he didn't like it.
Jaw opened for the several second long pause ritmush closes it looking back at the group before shrugging and tilting his head. "Eh, s'not important."
Derrick just stands by in all the talking, confused by the scene unfolding before him. Interplanetary customs agents, a detective, the major quite possibly being a criminal along with the rest of the WEAC... Derrick's training to become a samurai prepared him for many things, but not this.
With nothing to say that isn't incoherent half-questions or something his allies have already covered, Derrick shakes his head and takes a few steps back, blinking. He glances around and, seeing that Minerva also hasn't been caught up in this, walks over to her. "Might want to sketch quickly, because things are happening fast," he comments, forcing a smile across his face.
Minerva smiled up at the armoured man, and paused her sketch "I'd agree Mr Tramsen." She twirled her worn and blunted charcoal stick between blackened fingers, critically running an eye over the two sketches and the doodlings she'd done, the notes that had been scribbled in the corner about the events unfolding around her "Things are never so simple as they seem..."
"...and at this rate, I'm going to run out of charcoal." she finished the sentence after a pause, standing up and drawing her belt-knife to sharpen the stick, looking to Mr Tramsen even as she tucked the rolled up sketchings into her bag. "Shall we walk then, Mr Tramsen? They look to be talking awhile, and we might as well get the lay of the land ahead."
She was more relaxed now she had put charcoal to paper, and hardly bothered to tuck or hide her Horns under the hood, though she still shivered if ever the Cleric looked over at her, and the Tail remained under the cloak.
Derrick glances back to the wagon, then turns back to Minerva. "We might as well. I don't think they'll notice if we leave." He rakes his hair back and offers his elbow to the woman. "Shall we?"