I prefer to swing hammers and the like. Just in case I come across something needing it, you wouldn't have a spare battle aspergillum would you?
Deep purple lines seem to be running though out his body, growing outwards from his core. At his temple the skin is starting to tear, a blood stained compress covering where something seems to be protruding from within him.
As you enter another leech seems to die from the short connection to Kenter, falling away as it does. Two others already lay discarded on the floor. Casting your spell and concentrating on his aura you can just barely register the Graf is suffering from an ongoing magical ailment. It has a faint aura of a type you can't identify, nor can you make out if it is from a spell, item, or other mystical source. You can attempt a Spellcraft check to dig deeper, or check with the others, as you prefer.
Brother Mason nods to Musami, I do have one in stock, a solid dependable weapon crafted by Hiram Smythe last season. It can hold one of our vials ready enough, for a cost combined of 30 orbs. She then leans out a bit and addresses the dwarf directly. If you can return the weapon intact and unmarred, I can rent it to you instead for 1 common a day, plus the cost of the blessed waters, which is not refundable, 25 orbs.
I can perhaps fashion my own in time. I shall rent it, if that is acceptable. Thank you. He hands over 25 orbs. Can we settle the rental cost when we return, or would you like a number of days in advance?
If anyone asks, we agreed upon a three day rental? You can settle up when you return, though if damaged the church will require you to pay the full price of the weapon. Sound fair?
"Thank you -err- Brother Mason. Quite a concept for your Cuthbertines. I suppose a male in a nunnery would be a Sister then, all being fair." He smiles, trying to hide his obvious confusion at this. "But, as to curatives, I would be happy to settle in coin. And perhaps, at a later time to discuss your faith so that I may understand." He indicates two minor curatives and a holy water. "And what of that blade back there? What would the priesthood 'of the cudgel' need with a blade?"
Musami nods his ascent to Brother Mason, accepts the aspergillum and heads back up to see how Zokama is making out.
Nodding to Filnefillan and holding out the items requested Brother Mason comments, There are no brothers enrolled in our nunneries, as all nunneries are adjunct to a proper friary. Sadly I am just the odd duck about the coop, as the saying goes. Checking over her price list Mason comments, Your total would be 125 orbs good elf, and I will always make myself available to extol someone regarding the virtues of the Wise Fool.
Looking back to the blade, This came to us from the weapons of a goodly knight two seasons past. He had been grievously wounded and was delirious with fever. He claimed to have been a Knight of the Hart on a secretive mission for the King of Veluna but his band was waylaid by brigands led by a vampire, of all things. He claimed to have been wounded and left to die while his brothers were carted off. He traded the sword for healing, vowing to return, but never did. She gazes at the sword, turning her head a bit, then shrugs. No one ever found out if he had been truthful that day, or what became of him. The sword has awaited a new owner ever since.
Zokama starts back to the group only to see many of them coming to join her. She explains that the Mayor has an illness that is magical in some way, and asks their assistance in finding out what it is because she can't identify the aura.
She ducks back into the room, and gently moves the compress aside to see what seems to be protruding from him.
Braggi feels overwhelmed by this magic affliction thing, together with undead, gnolls, elemental summoning and everything else. The fact of having a young maiden acting as a Brother and bearing the title is the cherry on top. He is a man of action, and needs something to be done.
He looks around a bit in case he finds something useful that Manson could sell or rent. Having overheard before that skeletons require bludgeon weapons, he decides to ask, trying to dodge the situation of calling her 'brother'.
"Er... do you have anything big I can use to crush bones?"
Chuckling slightly Brother Mason pulls from the cabinet a reddish brown wooden rod just under 4 feet in length, banded in rivet studded rings of cold iron and topped with a chain of similar links ending in a broad cold iron ball, itself shaped like a bursting star, with each short ray forged to resemble a blunt cube etched with a sun rune. This is one of my favorites, a heavy flail. Mine is not as fancy, but either serves well to remind transgressors of the might of Saint Cuthbert, and both should crush bone rather nicely, or so I would think. She holds it out for Braggi to get the measure of it. It was forged in the Kron Hills by a weapon smith who owed Canon Terjon a debt. It wasn't really one the Canon could use so he donated it instead to the church, though no one has offered the coin to claim it.
She checks her ledger and frowns a bit, The ask on this is just over 300 orbs, but I can try to arrange something if you are interested.
Not having realised anything particularly untoward has afflicted the Mayor beyond the regular infirmity of old age coupled with great responsibility, Navith takes his leave to attend to engineering matter at hand. Following Lord Burne's somewhat curt assent to seek out his foreman, the Pelorite does so, hurrying off to the construction site with any who might wish to.
"I am Navith Kanhai, disciple of Pelor. Lord Burne advised me that I might speak with the foreman Jayfie or the engineer Blackstone..."
A couple of workers direct Navith to the man named Jayfie Lonnis, the site foreman. He is sitting under a small half building shielded from the sun high overhead, looking over a pile of papers and illustrations. As the cleric approaches the man pips up in a high pitched, oily voice. You're early, chapel stone ain't laid yet. Come back next week, mebbe, smirking.
"A spirited debate would do wonders for my constitution, Brother Mason. Perhaps over wine sometime, provided your temple duties are fulfilled." He smiles at the priestess.
"I'll be back for that lovely sword at some time in the future, but these shall be great for our needs for now."
Fil pulls out his funds, sad to depart with funds so quickly after losing so much so quickly, but the life of an adventurer does require such. Looking about, "Where is Zokama? And Navith? Did they go back to the Mayor?"
He pays thusly:
170 Silver Nobles (17 GP)
58 Gold Orbs (58 GP)
5 Platinum Plates (50 GP)
Please correct me if I'm wrong.
Brother Mason smiles back at Fil, I expect some interesting tales for such an encounter, perhaps after you have taken care of the business you seem to have planned. My duties usually leave me free most Earthday evenings. The priestess quickly counts out the coins and confirms the amounts are correct.
The page indicates Zokama went upstairs, but that Navith left the building.
Zokama first casts Spellcraft (with Detect Magic up) to see if she can figure out what is going on:
Then she asks those present if she can take a closer look because the mayor is suffering from a magical malady.
(In case I need a check to have them let me get close enough to move the compress.)
Musami looks at the mayor. He is not a medical man, but every soldier sees must have a small degree of knowledge about healing, or they do not live long.
Once made aware of the young woman's suspicions, Calmert himself begins changing his treatments, moving to the other room to acquire other scrolls and options, if available. Myella stumbles back away from the bedside, tapping herself cap, collar, core in Cuthbertine fashion to ward off any wayword magic, knowing nothing else to offer. Lord Burne Devarn thanks Zokama saying, Any help you can offer would be greatly appreciated. He moves back the compress, showing the elder's forehead. What make you of this?
Small, almost crystalline growths are protruding from around the man's brow, sharp, roughly hexagonal, just over a half inch above the skin. Below the surface, thin deep purple tendrils throb and burrow just below his skin, spreading outwards in spidery patterns, the crystals pulsing slightly with an almost perceptible tyrian light. It's like it's alive, growing... The wizard stands and adds his own casting to the mix, muttering confirmation as Zokama reports there is a definite necromantic energy involved in the illness, likely a curse causing the vicious spreading beyond what should be possible. He confirms it is ongoing, such that it is likely from a cursed object or physical source.
Seeing the wounds and behaviors of the infection Filnefillan involuntarily clutches at his own scarred chest, the pinkish raw skin no longer pained, though he'll likely carry that memorial for a decade or more while the skin regrows to a normal hue.
Navith smiles politely in return.
"Master Lonnis, I fear I have you at a disadvantage, for I know who you are, foreman of this site, but you are under a misapprehension as to who I am. Navith Kanhai, at your service. Your Lord Burne directed me to seek you and engineer Blackstone for aid in remounting a sundered monument at Emridy Measows, so it can be reconsecrated."
Mindful of the town council's urge to keep the populace calm Navith purposefully neglects to elaborate.
"If you are familiar with the monument, you may know what is needed. Elsewise, engineer Blackstone may assist?"
Once Navith informs the man of the reason for his visit, and his needs have been approved by Lord Devarn. Oh well, iffin his highness demands it, yeah sure nuff. Blackstone's over at his manor, down the hill, across the way. But fer ya I'll just stop it all fer a bit. He calls over one of his men, giving him hushed orders and gesturing around the site to different supplies as he does so. He then turns back to Navith and claims Okay, I got my men stopping everything fer ya. They'll drop the stuff ya need down by the foot of the hill, say mebbe an hour to gather it all and cart it down. I take it ya got a cart or wagon fer all this stuff, or are ya gonna carry it yaself? Looking the cleric up and down, Not to doubt but I don't think ya got's shoulders for it. As the man talks a few of the men nearby turn away, hanging heads or shaking side to side. Clearly they are used to his poor behavior and condescending tones.
Navith ignores the jibe.
"The foot of the hill will suffice. I am sure a wagon can be found. Thank you for your swift and useful help Master Lonnis."
With that the Pelorite returns to the Church, by way of stopping at the blacksmith to inquire generally as to the availability of a wagon, and if directed to the genersl store.
At the blacksmith shop the boy Tomi is hard at it, putting the lessons Musami showed him to fair use, though he still has a growing pile of off angled nails by his bench. If you need a wagon good sir you would need to speak to the town teamster, Master Grimes. His shop is past the trading post, next one down. The boy smacks his hammer down once more, letting out a whoop and a cheer. Yessir, number, umm, what's ten past fifty plus a hundred? That's this one. He then realizes he was mid discussion. Sorry sir, what I meant was don't talk to Corl, that's his son. He's a bully and a dunder. Talk to Master Grimes or the missus. They can tell you what they have left after the caravan mustered out.
Braggi weighs the weapon and nods. "Seems a nice thing. Would you be willing to offer the same as with the other one, a rent and purchase if I don't handle it back? If so, consider it a deal" he says, offering his hand.
With that Navith heads over to the teamster's building and inquires after Master Grimes.
Arriving at the teamster's shop you notice a small group of children playing across the roadway from the house, a hoop from a broken wagon wheel forming a goal of some sort as they pitch stones in a high arc from a starting position to land in the center, or as close to it as possible. In the barn beside the shop three men are talking, one of them checking the shoes of a horse taken from the adjoining corral. There are two large wagons and a small cart parked just past the home. The corral holds five horses and seven mules. The door to the home is open and voices can be heard within. A small pull bell is attached to a stand next to the house door.
Does anyone here know when this started to happen to him... where he was, some new thing that he got, who he was with... anything?
Zokama examines the man and everything he is wearing (still with detect magic), to see if he has a ring or any item on that might be cursed, or if the curse was placed on him directly.
Is there any holy man or woman in town that knows how to remove a curse? ... Who isn't likely to be the one that laid it? If so, we need to send for that person in order to save the mayor. If not, are there scrolls somewhere that would allow a lesser holy one to attempt the removal?
Sadly the lord shakes his head, Canon Terjon likely could manage such miracles, but they are beyond my abilities, as too likely those of Calmert. Perhaps he can find a scroll of such, but we've had little call for such resources in Hommlet, at least none before now.
Burne places the compress back over the mayor's forehead and then pulls the blankets back up and over the old man's legs and torso. Kenter began complaining a bit of aches and nausea about the same time that Mytch and Jaroo were killed, though it is likely he was feeling bad just after we discovered Rufus' uncle had passed. The lord walks over to the stained glass window, opening a small pane fixed to swing in to allow air into the chambers. Masadil was the reason Rufus and I eventually settled here. Rufus needed his uncle's sponsorship with the Knights, and I found the lands beautiful, turning back to those assembled, beautiful and full of underlying power. I foolishly thought untapped reserves awaited someone to pluck them from the weave, though now I realize other powers already had that idea. And now they threaten my town, my people, my home.
Burne takes a seat as Calmert comes back into the room, his head shaking. I have a scroll which may, and it's a slim chance, of slowing the disease. It might buy us some time, but we need Canon Terjon or Deacon Y'dey, if we could somehow contact her. Looking around, Calmert asks after the other priest, frowning as he realizes the man is away. I will attempt the spell myself, though I would prefer a bit of assistance to be sure.
The mayor visibly seems to relax a bit as Calmert entones his spell, a wave of sparkling white stars washing over his body. Thanks be to Cuthbert Calmert mutters, touching, cap, collar, and core. This will buy us a day, and I will endeavor to repeat the spell from my own blessings tomorrow, but I cannot say how long our father will hold my hands. We must do something soon.
Lord Burne looks to the group, I fear we have a host of trials today. I thank you all for your assistance, and support. While you make work of the bones at Emridy I will task the Regulators with checking over Nevets' manor. I will likely need be there as well, less we have problems like others have implied.
Glancing again at the old man, his gaze remaining there, I may be able to contact Y'dey and Terjon, perhaps they can return early if at all. One day at a time I suppose. Face the dusk to praise the dawn.
After confirming with the page, Fil will walk back to seek the Lord Mayor and to formulate a plan with the others.
Arriving at the teamsters, not knowing what impropriety might be achieved by approaching the men in the barn directly (having bern warned a possibly irascible man dwells here), and stopped short by a seemingly open and welcoming door yet beside a bell, Navith elects to pull the bell and awaits an answer.
After a brief moment a woman comes to the door and looks over the priest. Are you here about hiring out a wagon, or other such business?
Assuming Navith answers in the affirmative the woman says her husband is off on an errand, and my son can't keep his nose home where it belongs, more for whomever is inside, but Dude can help you. He and a couple of teamsters are checking over one of the horses we got in trade this morning. You'll find him over the barn.
Checking at the barn the priest finds a tall thin man, dark curly hair, cutting away some rough scaling from the horse's hind hooves. Seeing you, he nods to one of the other men, causing him to take over the process while his fellows move in closer to supervise. The man walks over to a bucket just outside the barn, splashing some water over his hands, ringing and shaking them out a bit before wiping them off on his trousers.
Holding out his hand to Navith he says, Welcome sir, boss Grimes ain't here right now. You needin' a horse, a wagon, or a cart? Prices are fair, nodding at a small placard tacked to the barn door.
Horse: 70 orbs sold / 5 orbs daily
Mule: 8 orbs sold / 6 nobles daily
Wagon: 40 orbs sold / 3 orbs daily
Cart: 15 orbs sold / 12 nobles daily
Tack: 30 orbs sold / 3 orbs daily
Dark Bold print at the bottom states References required for daily lending
Have a few in stock, feel free to look 'em over.
Navith greets the man warmly and looks over the draught beasts for sale. Then the wagon and cart.
"Your strongest yet most obedient horse. If that is one and the same and only horse you have, so be it. Same for a mule. And a wagon. To buy. I'm sure given this outlay you might dispense with the need for references in order to hire tack for the two beasts. But if such is still required, ask Lord Burne or Brother Calmert."
Navith removes his coin pouch, and counts out 25 nobles and 10 plates. He makes sure to pay Grimes wife if that is more secure, and makes arrangements to pick them up as soon as is possible.
"Not quite a king's ransom, but much gold indeed... [pauses momentarily, looking down the road] "One thing - who is jostling the tailor?"
On his way out he finds Grimes again.
"The horse and mule. What are their names?"
Hmm, sounds like some Regulators found a new toy to annoy. Jinnerth the tailor may be a bit mossy, but he don't deserve that. The man spits towards that direction. Imagine that's Furnok, those pair Kobort an' Turuko, mebbe the new guy too. He leads the priest over to the corral. They behaves well 'nuff when the spellslinger Spugnoir or that drunk Xaod are wit' 'em, but cause trouble if left on the lonesome.
He nods towards the corral, containing the horses and mules. He whistles loudly and some of the horses skitter about. He points to a blood bay mare as one of the men comes out of the barn. The horse seemed to ignore the whistle, just staring intently at the whistler. Lead out and ready Admirra, Jubel too, pointing at a nearby red roan mule. Kit them up to the Warner wagon with tack.
Dude holds out his hand for the payment, Mrs. Grimes nodding from the doorway before returning inside. Admirra looks after Jubel like her own colt, leaning in, but he ain't. He looks to her as a momma. They should work well 'nuff. Yer wagons gonna pull a bit, so keep tight to her and give him a lead.
Brother Mason wishes Braggi luck and expresses the hope that everyone returns safely and soon.
I may be able to contact Y'dey and Terjon, perhaps they can return early if at all. One day at a time I suppose. Face the dusk to praise the dawn.
It would indeed be good if they could be recalled. I am sorry that I cannot do more.
She turns to Musami.
When your group is ready to head out to face the undead, please let me know. I am performing at the inn tonight to fulfil an obligation to the owner, but other than that, I am available at your convenience.
She heads back to the inn.
Navith tries to remember the Regulators names, and does well to remember Admriia and Jubel. He asks to hire an extra mule for a few days, and if the two mules (Jubel and another) could be harnessed to the wagon. Navith leads Admirra away, telling Grimes he will pick the other beasts and wagon up later as he heads to the church.
Once at the church Navith ties up Admirra and finds the rest of the party, letting them know he has secured the requisite equipment and appropritate cartage.
Finding that Zokama has headed to the inn Navith asks the party for one or two members (Braggi/Musami/Fili/Toruk) to return with him to the teamsters to pick up the beasts/wagon, head to the engineering equipment left "at the foot of the hill" by Lord Burne's construction crew and then head back to the inn hopefully in time to listen to Zokama preforming.
Failing that he will inform Calmert he needs a few stout Cuthbertines' aid.
Update: Hommlet 1 bell past noon
The sun is peeking out from behind a few clouds rolling in slowly from the west, darker edges showing on the horizon. A light wind rustles the emerging grasses and budding fruit trees around town.
The Memorial Monument at Emridy Meadows rests roughly 14 miles from Hommlet, a journey of which two thirds is along the north road.
Navith rounded up anyone interested at the Church to assist with gathering the supplies offered by Jayfie. Calmert only had one acolyte available to assist, Ronald Ryunnwrathi. It would take roughly an hour, maybe two to pickup, load, and cart the wagon over to the Inn.
With the spells easing the Graf's condition Calmert has left the man in the care of Myella and returned to other duties. Lord Burne Devarn returned to the tower, reportedly believed to be looking into contacting Canon Terjon, Deacon Y'dey, or Lord Rufus. The other members of the church staff are tending to their duties while the prisoners are relaxing outside, a moment of peace and calm to reflect on their ordeals and the things experienced only a short time previous, beneath the stones of the fallen moat house.
The stable manager Dude made available a second mule, an older black and gray appaloosan john mule named Splotches. The mules were harnessed to the wagon, and waiting. Mrs. Grimes commented Debits are on the account for five days as noted and confirmed by the tower chancellor.
Passing the tailor's shop the man's door sits open, the man on a small chair outside sewing at what might be a militia uniform upon his lap. It appears the Regulators have moved on since earlier.
Travelling to the base of the hill the group finds a small bucket of worn nails, eight 4"x4"x8' beams, three 4"x8' round poles, three coils of 50' hemp rope, two pulleys, and three 6"x6"x10' beams. Tools provided include two hammers, two shovels, one two-man saw, one crowbar, and a small glass pyramid half filled with green water. Watching from further up the hill is Jayfie, under a small tarp, hastily erected, sitting in a folding stool. He waves as Navith and party arrives.
The inn is picking up for the late lunch rush, half filled with villagers and travelers making their way through Hommlet. Indeed it seems with the spring in bloom travel is once again returning to the roadways, seeing many coming and going between the centers north and south and east of the small hamlet.
Ostler and Molly are busy keeping the kitchen running, Alison is keeping the tables stocked, and patrons are spending a few coins and enjoying a bit of shade before returning to the afternoon's endeavors.
Of the recognizable faces Kalizar sits in a corner speaking with the wizard Spugnoir. Another table is taken by a dark armored man quietly drinking from a tall flagon and scowling at no one in particular. Those from the first tower meeting recognize the warrior as one of those hired to investigate the town's troubles, marking him likely a member of the Regulators. The elderly man Zokama assisted earlier has left, likely home to enjoy the brief relief the bard offered him.
Tomi has finished crafting nails for the day, instead turning to a set of horseshoes needed by an impatient customer. A burly brown haired young man, late teens, is there hounding him to hurry his pace. Tomi seems to struggle working the bellows, cherrying up the shoes, then beating them back into shape with both a quick and still competent pace. The efforts only seem to make the other lad more impatient, who continues scolding and ridiculing the younger craftsman.
Musami accompanies Navith to the teamsters to fetch the beasts and equipment. Once they are settled he heads to the smithy to check in on Tomi and his progress.
Seeing the young man in need of a helping hand Musami sets Tomi to the bellows and hammers the shoes out himself.
Musami's arrival and assistance caused a bit of embarrassment and fear in the bully abashing Tomi. The young man tells the dwarf, Nevermind, I'm late fer sumetin. Juss 'ave Tomi drop 'em off atta stables when done. He then quickly leaves, practically taking off in a sprint once at the corner of the street.
Thank you sir, Tomi offers, Corl is the biggest bully in town. He's always pushing kids around when no one's looking. He then helps work the bellows while Musami finishes with the horseshoes. I guess I'll have to get used to it if Master Smythe keeps me on. The Grimes' do a lot of business in town, rings for wheels, bands for wagons, shoes and nails. I just wish someone would pop Corl a good one. Teach him to watch his tongue. The boy flashes momentarily angry, then turns red, embarrassed. Sorry sir, that wasn't very nice. It's just... he kicks at the ground, looking away, sometimes I just get so mad I can't stand it. Some people aren't nice and don't deserve to be treated nice back.
Once the shoes are completed Tomi mentions he will close down the shop, tamp the coals for rest, and deliver the shoes as promised. It's been a good day don't you think. Thanks you so much for helping me. With you I know I can keep things up until Master Smythe returns. He's got to keep me on, right? No more farm for me. He starts putting the tools back in their places, muttering under his breath, I hope.
When Musami arrives at the Inn and attempts to pay Kalizar the remaining balance the apothecary waves him off. I must admit, mentioning that you and your band had taken a shine to my wares has really boosted my reputation here in town. So, in a way, you've already paid me back in full. He leans over a bit, conspiratorially. If anyone asks though, a good word here or there would be greatly appreciated. You and yours have a better opinion in town over this poor sod's companions, gesturing to Spugnoir, sitting on the bench opposite. The young mage shakes his head a bit, but smiles over to the dwarf and nods towards the nearby chair, if he would like to join them.
Musami will take a seat with Spugnoir and Kalizar. He'll order a stout beer and settle in.
He adresses Spugnoir Hello, my name is Musami Forgeborn. We have not met but let me buy you a drink, and one for Kalizar here too.
After exchanging small talk a thought dawns on the dwarf. Say Kalizar. You don't have anything in that travelling workshop of your that would be useful for a curse, would you?
Alison brings the beer for Musami, a wine for Spugnoir, and a spiced mead for Kalizar.
Spugnoir mentions he was present the night your caravan arrived in Hommlet. This was before I agreed to join the Regulators as their only arcane member. A decision I think may have been for naught. While their leader intends to be a defender of the town, the rest I fear are layabouts and dullards. He sips from his wine, I have grown fond of the town, having thought to try my hand at exploring the moat house, though, pausing respectfully considering the news of your friend I am glad my fears prevented it. My condolences for your losses.
Kalizar adds to that, Yes, I quite liked your friend, though I didn't get much of a chance to learn more from him and his little friend. I had so wanted to gain one of his seed pods for myself, I have a tome that suggests a way to grow one of mine own.
Regarding curses the pair have a short discussion over the nature of such magics. I am really more involved in alchemical creations and curatives, poisons, diseases and their antidotes. Mind you though I do have some experience second hand, in a scattered variety of subjects. He gestures respectfully to Spugnoir, While curses are beyond myself and my friend here's casting abilities, Spugnoir nodding, and outside what I normally traffic in, I do have a couple of remedies which may be of assistance. Cures alas no, but in treatment. Is this about lycanthropy? I heard a rumor which I won't repeat. Or is this something else?
Fil ends up watching the mayor rest for a bit before returning to the inn, picking up the end of the lunch rush. He picks up on the lout scowling at everyone in the room. Fil's had a bad couple of days. And, frankly, the Regulators are inept. He wants to get one to talk.
"Really, lad, there out'n be a bit more happiness in your life. If you keep your face like that it might just stay that way, or did it already get stuck?"
Fil smiles mirthfully, and, once he's noticed.
"One for me and one for this young one, too. Maybe he'll smile if he has enough libation."
Once the drinks are served
"Filnefillan Lotusbow at your service, and who might you be?"
Upon closer examination Filnefillan realizes the dour man is wearing the heraldry and icons of Hextor on his armor, an ornate holy symbol of the a black hand holding six arrows crafted of red gold within it's mailed fist. The man looks the elf over up and down, glances at the server, and nods once.
Hmm, a bit soft to be a hero, don't you think. He nods once to himself, as if listening to someone beside him. Still, you're alive so that's something. He stands, taking off his left gauntlet, setting it on the table. He then reaches his unarmored right to the elf, offering a handshake. I am Xaod Eurozslayer, martial servant and spiritual scourge master of the mighty Hextor. Unarmed I shall greet you.
I was sent hear by my faith, for what I do not know. Looking around the room at the occupants he shakes his head, then takes a long draught from his mug, draining it, and sets it aside to await the maid's return. I thought it was to help this town, but that is proving a mistake. Saddled am I with lesser men of no honor, no steel, quivers bereft of strength, drive, or courage, all the things for which Hextor grants pride.
As Alison sets the fresh mugs upon the table he takes up his, again downing it fully, and places the empty beside the other on her tray. Another miss, until I am leaking or the cask is dry. He sets five plates upon the tray as well. And food, don't care what, just as long as it's bloody, dead, and doesn't interfere with the mead. Glancing at the elf, But something living for him, flowers and grasses maybe, and don't do it anything painful, his dark eyes watching closely.
Zokama, seeing a likely audience, grabs a stool and starts singing a lively ballad of adventure, intrigue, lost love, and eventual betrayal in the hidden city of Veralos. She doesn't sing so loud as to drown out people's conversations, but loud enough so that people can follow along if they want to know the story.
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The travelling crowd seems to react fairly favorably to Zokama's tales, clapping, stomping, and occasionally tossing a few cheers out as the set comes to an end. The locals seem entertained, but being more rustic and provincial than the more cosmopolitan merchants passing through town.
During the event Alison made the rounds of the tables, speaking softly with the audience and assuring everyone was kept content during the bard's performance.
Afterwards Ostler Gundigoot comes over to the beaming maiden, carrying a small pouch. Very well done miss, very well indeed. He hands the clinking muslin bag to the girl, smiling. Just over two orbs in mostly commons and nobles. Surely doing that every afternoon you can make a good life for yourself. Certainly enough to have a place, decent food, and such comforts as you desire. Maybe not in Hommlet, but certainly in Verbobonc or Veluna City. He pats the girl on the shoulder before moving to head back to deal with another customer. Congratulations.
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Zokama, flushed and happy from her performance, thanks Ostler, and bows to the crown, telling them that she will perform again tonight. Then she leaves the inn temporarily to take a walk and clear her head. Not knowing the town, she just picks a random direction and starts walking, keeping her eyes open and seeing what there is to see.
She follows along a bit and finds herself standing before a large stone, erected tall and oblong, it's wide base reaching, narrowing towards the sky. The entire area is close about with large, ancient trees, only a small opening in the canopy above showing a clear blue sky. Beneath her feet the trees' roots branch strong and wide across the floor of the clearing. The stone itself rises nearly twenty feet, it's surface weathered smooth in places, caressed lovingly by time, and yet other nooks and crannies seem to host a variety of mosses and lichens that splotch the cold granite with colors and patterns both relaxing and entrancing, yet beckoning, calling, all at the same time.
As Zokama breathes in the air her senses catch a multitude of sensations, thoughts from her childhood, happy times, sad times, memories of family and of home. Then quite suddenly she notices an old man standing nearby, bearded and careworn, long white whiskers matching a thinning patch tucked under his tasseled cap. He watches her intently, a soft smile upon his lips. As she looks closer, taking a step towards him he holds up a finger, wagging it back and forth. He smiles wider, bringing his finger up to his lips, then, softly like a breeze, shushes her. Confused she starts to step back, looking down to realize the green grasses, worn path pebbles, and colorful varieties of flowers are all gone, replaced by great lines of blue, of green, yellow, and white, softly leading out of scattered pools of deeper color.
The glowing lines wind about across the blackness of a smooth glass plane, it's surface as deep as night, but strangely clear, like the outside of a mirror. With in it, or perhaps more accurately beneath it, long spiraling tendrils of awful bright purple pulse and squirm, beating against the underside of that night-like surface, grasping at and choking off tiny pinpoints of color as it finds them.
A wave of panic starts to overcome the bard, desperation, closeness, her chest tight, heart racing, blood pounding loudly in her ears to match the pounding rhythm of those tendrils, when suddenly an aged hand grabs her by the shoulder, spins her about, and drops her solidly to the ground in a heap. She falls back to land against the cool hard surface of the towering stone, once again back in the grove, alone, dripping in sweat and feeling the rush of adrenaline slowly subsiding. For a moment she thinks herself alone, only to notice a burly black bear snuffing at the air in her direction, sitting quietly on all fours beside a small cottage she failed to notice earlier. The bear huffs, cocks it's head quizzically, lolls it's tongue once, twice, yawns, and lowers himself to the ground, curling it's fore-paws under it's chin before drifting off to sleep.
"Well, this looks...substantial. Let us load up!"
After no small amount of exertion and much sweat Navith asks Jayfie to provide a rough sketch of what should be constructed to erect the stones. He does not forget to ask what the pyramid is for, guessing it is some kind of spirit-level.
Now loaded, Navith takes the wagon back to the inn, stables the mules and then fetches the horse Admirra. Stabling her, Navith heads inside.
Ietsuna
