Zanzu beckons to Kuhn-Duhn, "Let's check out this bording house, what have we to worry about from a couple of gnomes. They'll be happy to get some good honourable custom." he clucks as he laughs at his own joke. "Be best if you come along, you know sometimes I rub people up the wrong way, not used to such intelligent avians as me!" he continues to chuckle.
Diplomacy:
Kirilarien's performance received looks of mild curiosity from most of the patrons but the maimed Orc who was apparently in charge of the place was moved to tears by her performance. He sauntered over on a crutch, accompanied by one of the serving girls with a contented smile on his face; producing an onyx black gem from his clothing and holding it out before the Azata. The girl spoke for him-
He was saying you can rub his lucky stone for free if you like, miss, as a thank you for the song. He normally charges 50 iron bits to do it. He also wants to tell you his name; he is called Lucky Bjorc Balsam.
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Vincent, Khun-Duhn and Zanzu made their way past the curious-looking chapel and to the boarding house they had heard tell of. The trio received plenty of scowls and foul glances from the locals as they walked through the common.
The rambling plank structure appeared to be comprised of the dismantled remains of dozens of freight wagons and other assorted scrap lumber. Stenciling above the door named it as "Bender Bros".
Stepping inside you can see that it is one of the nicer and more structurally sound buildings in town, despite its ramshackle appearance. The ceilings are low at just 6 feet high but the place is kept moderately clean. To the left as you walked in, was a check in desk, manned by a Gnome that bore more than a striking resemblance to the other Gnome at the bar of the Sipping Blood Tavern. He wore black leather armour and bore a scraggly black beard below his bulbous nose. He seemed to wear a perpetual sneer on his face but was very polite as he greeted the trio and introduced himself as Jashanah Benderkaupft, at your service, fine hosts.
After introductions and some small talk, Jashanah got down to business, speaking very cordially and respectfully.
Now, its five iron bits for a night and we have six rooms free. Usually, we charge an additional iron bit for dinner but we're happy to waive that on the first night. The rooms all have locks on the door my lord he assured Lord Vincent so no grubby locals going to be robbing your bits and pieces. So how about it eh?
While Vincent spoke to Jashanah and made some general inquiries about the area, Khun-Duhn and Zanzu ended up spending some time asking around outside to the various locals and passers by. The Bender brother imparted the following rumour to Vincent amidst the conversation, as he made enquiries about the Desolation-
Nobody ever goes to the old ruins of Tsar and lives to tell of it. They say its walls are still guarded by the ancient defenders who kill anyone who comes within bowshot...
Zanzu ended up speaking to one of the traders, on his way back to the market. Seeing an opportunity to snag a potential customer, he said-
Need supplies or other such things? The place to go is the Celestial Emporium. It was established by angels and has heavenly prices. Need armour or weapons? Talk to the Usurer. Need horses? Finn’s Livery. A cold drink or a bit o’ company? Head on down to the Sip of Blood Tavern.
Khun-Duhn tried to make inquiries but was actively shunned by most people he approached. Eventually, one of the Campies said to him-
The guy in charge of the Camp is the Usurer. I’m not sure what that word means, but it sounds official. He’s also the local money-changer and blacksmith. People say he doesn’t sleep but just sits around all night in his home thinking up new ways to make money...
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Arachiel and Durin spent some time wandering inside the Celestial Emporium as they made their way to the south-east edge of the camp. The aura of quiet menace that pervaded much of the rest of the camp was not felt here, but was replaced by a dozen or so merchants of ill repute peddling their wares and supplies. They both noted that many items being sold were battered and of low quality, as well as quite possibly acquired in nefarious manner.
While moving through the camp, Durin noticed that as the afternoon wore on, less and less people were around. It seemed many people retired very early in the evening here. When he asked a merchant about this, he had this to say-
Nobody goes out much at night here in the Camp. People that do tend to disappear. I think it’s the doings of that death church myself, but don’t tell ‘em I said so. I don’t want them coming after me. Funny thing is, anyone who stays inside is usually alright, even if it’s just in a tent or a lean-to...
Durin felt the man was sincere in his sentiments. Arachiel himself heard little of interest in his inquiries; until he found the aforementioned home of Simon the Hermit at the south-east edge of the camp- a simple wickiup of tree bark standing by itself that showed signs of greater care and attention than found elsewhere in town. He bid the pair greetings once more and after Arachiel asked him for any information they might need to know about the area, Simon told him this after a heavy silence-
A strange peddler comes through town from time to time. He’s the only one I’ve heard of that seems to be able to cross the Desolation without trouble. He only sells to people he chooses, and it’s said that those who buy his wares receive good luck.
After the conversation with Simon, Arachiel and Durin moved around the edge of the camp, heading north. They came across the stables; an adobe house in very poor repair fronting a fenced paddock. A few broken down nags munch on the sparse grass within. A large barn of faded planks stands next to the crumbling adobe with a sign painted on its side in large pink letters stating that this is Finn’s Livery. A couple of men were breaking horses at the other side of the paddock.
Vincent steps back hearing the price, but then nods as he listens to what's provided.
I will have to see Usher again after this. I'll need more iron bits and less gold.
"Tsar you say? Sounds like a dangerous place possibly filled with villains and treasure. I will discuss with my companions this place if the name ever appears again. Thank you my man." at this Vincent gives the brother a iron bit for his time.
Zanzu listens to the merchant and quietly asks, "You do a good job selling others here, but what do you have to offer me?" as he tries to engage him in conversation. Wonder where he comes from and what he might have loosely about his person, or hidden in his robes?
Kirilarien's performance received looks of mild curiosity from most of the patrons but the maimed Orc who was apparently in charge of the place was moved to tears by her performance. He sauntered over on a crutch, accompanied by one of the serving girls with a contented smile on his face; producing an onyx black gem from his clothing and holding it out before the Azata. The girl spoke for him-
He was saying you can rub his lucky stone for free if you like, miss, as a thank you for the song. He normally charges 50 iron bits to do it. He also wants to tell you his name; he is called Lucky Bjorc Balsam.
The lyrakien smiles charmingly at Lucky Bjorc.
It looks as if you have survived the very worst that the Desolation has to offer Bjorc. I would be most honored and grateful for the privilege of touching your lucky stone! I'd also be most pleased to hear of your exploits. Was it your stone that saw you through?
Following her chat with Lucky Bjork, Kirilarien flies around the tavern greeting each patron graciously in turn no matter their appearance and asking about themselves. After a time she tries to turn the conversation to two matters. Firstly, what job seemed to have ended the Pounders. Secondly, the perils of the Desolation especially anything recent. She happily sings again if asked. Any drunk patron that tries to grasp the little sparkly flying woman finds it impossible.
As Kirilarien leverages her strengths, Marcus mostly observes, acutely aware diplomacy is not one of his.
Without being overt he attempts to listen in on the mercenaries and find out the reason for their good humour. He also studies the drunken elf, attempting to work out whether approaching him seems like a good idea.
Could be interesting. And perhaps if we make things safer around here at night we might actually be seen in a more positive light by some of the locals. Curry some favour. If that is even possible...
The Gnome pocketed the offered iron bit swiftly with a thankful bow, expression still slightly resembling a sneer.
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As the merchant nodded eagerly and pointed to his stall, offering to lead him there, Zanzu caught a glimpse of a fat purse at the man's belt. He suspected he hailed from Bard's Gate, judging from the accent. He seemed to deal in survival supplies; tents, waterskins, packed food rations and specialised clothing.
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Detecting magic upon the stone Lucky Bjorc proudly held out for Kirilarien to rub, Marcus focused upon the magical aura emanating from it, detecting a faint aura of transmutation.
Bjorc nodded enthusiastically as his waitress translated his frantic hand signals.
Erm, he said he found it after the Elves tortured him, but before he escaped the dragon. So... he says it saw him through maybe half his ordeals. He says... wait, that was just a scratch, never mind...
Kirilarien turned on the charm and in short order it was clear that the amiable tavern owner was very fond of her and he was delighted to hear her play (with his one good ear).
After a conversation with the Azata, the Orc touched her hand gently and made one last set of hand gestures to her. The wench struggled to translate-
Um... I think he’s saying ‘Beware the Black Beast in the Pit’. Either that or ‘There’s blackened beef on the spit’... I’m not sure which; I haven’t worked here very long...
Although information on the Desolation was generally lacking in Kirilarien's inquiries, several patrons remembered that the caravan the Pounders were escorting was from Bards Gate; and one mentioned that the ambassador Sammar, who lived opposite the boarding house, had been set to set up and manage the trade route the caravan had hoped to establish to the rich lands to the north of the Desolation.
Other than this information, Kirilarien found that the locals were especially tight-lipped or ill-informed about the Desolation itself. Nevertheless, the inebriated Elf shared one tidbit as she made inquiries.
If you travel the roads of the Desolation at night, you’re sure to run into the Lost Caravan... all that’s left of the unluckiest merchants to ever try to cross the wastes. You’ll see and hear strange things that can’t be explained, but that’s okay. Just step aside and let ‘em pass, and more than likely they’ll go on by, though a few people do disappear. Those that bother them, though, are doomed to join their cursed journey forever...
Marcus couldn't be completely sure but he thought he heard the mercenaries toasting the downfall of the Pounders and something about Ogre's getting what was coming to them. The drunken Elf definitely seemed unfriendly to people around him, even by the standards of the Camp. Worse still, he had a rugged look and powerful physique that suggested he was also one of those in the camp most capable of making good on a threat.
As the day wore on into late afternoon, the party eventually found themselves reunited in the Sipping Blood Tavern. The streets of the Camp were suspiciously quiet and they were by this point, the only patrons in the tavern, other than the unfriendly looking Elf.
Kiri thanks Bjorc effusively for the assistance and promises to come back to sing often.
As the rejoined group compares notes, Marcus exclaims at the boarding house prices.
Five bits a person! Thats twenty five gold pieces a night. For each of us! For Heavens' sake, we'd pay less at the finest inn in Bard's Gate!
Calming himself, the mage mentally sorts through what the group has collectively heard.
Well we have a few leads at least.
This man, Sammar, should have more information on the caravan. He apparently lives across from the boarding house.
People disappearing at night.... Did anyone actually go into the church? Ok no. Its not difficult to believe that something might be sneaking in from the Desolation. If so we might find it difficult to catch unless we can work out its patterns.
This other mercenary group were hardly quiet about their pleasure in the Pounder's downfall. It seems unlikely they would have been so if they had a direct hand in it. Indirect ... perhaps.
So maybe investigate this death church and talk to Sammar? If we are going to stay at this boarding house for more than a few nights we're going to have to negotiate some kind of deal before we run ourselves out of coin.
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"I would certainly like to look into this church and the disappearances of those who stay out after dark. As you say, Marcus, it may be difficult to work out the patterns, but I think we should start out with the church. If we fail to see what is causing the disappearances from there, then we move out closer to the edges of camp to see if it something coming in from the Desolation."
Agreed. From the look of the things the locals definately think theres something about. Rampaging hill giants barely concern them so we should be on our guard.
If the locals have a problem with the death church, then they surely would have done something about it by now. I don't think we should presume to "solve" the "problem" of the church after having been here less than half a day.
My feelings are much the same with the Pounders. I don't want to get mixed up in local grievances without knowing more. The end of the Pounders may have been for the best for all we know.
Now, the people disappearing at night seems like a problem some of the locals would like solved. If it turns out to be the church, then so be it. We uncover the proof and then allow the camp to determine the course of action. If it turns out to be something else, then we are free to deal with it I guess.
Given the rates of the boarding house, perhaps just spending a night out of doors in the camp may be just right way to begin our investigation...
Now I know that making ourselves a part of the community may be essential to our long term success, this being our likely base of operations, but ultimately our real goal is out in the Desolation yes?
Now, the people disappearing at night seems like a problem some of the locals would like solved. If it turns out to be the church, then so be it. We uncover the proof and then allow the camp to determine the course of action. If it turns out to be something else, then we are free to deal with it I guess.
Given the rates of the boarding house, perhaps just spending a night out of doors in the camp may be just right way to begin our investigation...
Khun-duhn nods in agreement with Durin's suggestion. "Best way to find whatever's been snatching folks not in shelter at night is to not be in shelter at night," the wolfish half-orc growls.
Mmm. Well a night we're out searching is a day we're not relearning spells for tomorrow. We might want to rest up tonight and see what we can see tomorrow?
And yes Durin is right. We shouldn't get too comfortable here. Our goal is the Desolation. And then Tsar and what ever Hell waits for us there.
Kiri makes a face.
Quick someone snap him out of it.
Durin lifts an eyebrow at Kiri. Sorry?
"This news about dissappearances is worrying. So far we seem to be impressing the people of this town, but if we were to stop the dissappearances, then perhaps we can be heroes to these people." he voices his hopes with what might be accomplished. "I would like to investigate this church now, but I must agree with Marcus that we might want to rest up tonight to make sure we are ready and strong for anything that might be in there. It may be empty, but if it is not then we will need to be prepared."
Durin groans and shakes his head at the sentiment of resting overnight. I once fought in a battle that lasted for 3 days straight... we didn't eat or sleep... we didn't have time to! We didn't have time to bleed!
Zanzu clucks in disappointment as the group tend towards spending the night outside, after hoping for at least one night of comfort in a bed of sorts. "Then let's look at that abandoned camp you found, might be the easiest way to set up for the night's activities, if that's what the consensus is."
Seeing the merchants bulging purse, Zanzu distracts him with conversation, whilst he carefully takes note of the man's alertness.
Durin lifts an eyebrow at Kiri. Sorry?
His speechifying.
Its still a few hours to nightfall
Why not at least investigate this church and see if we can find any leads?
His speechifying.
Wait... what? You mean you can stop him? Durin smiles at Marcus.
As for the church... you know my feelings. But if you insist on paying it a look see then I think it would look overly aggressive if all six of us go barging in there.
Perhaps just a few of us...
It is obvious that Durin is not intending on volunteering to be one of those going...
"Believe I would like to change my suggestion and would like to investigate this church. I'm ready for combat if we run into anything." he says with a smile as he looks to the group. "I do not believe it'll matter. This town had a orge living in it and would've thought that would be intimidating."
Why don't Durin and I try and talk to this Sammur while the rest of you visit the church? Kiri can fetch us quickly if needed.
Let's be on with it then...
Zanzu follows the others towards the church, but rather than enter with them, he lets the shadows on the building disguise his presence, whilst he searches for another entrance into the building.
Zanzu attempts to relieve the merchant of his purse.
"In all honesty, how drained of resources can we possibly be? Surely not many were expended in that brief battle with the giant."
"Still have most of my spells. And my weapons are always ready for battle against evil," Khun-duhn growls in response to Arachiel's query.
It is child's play for you to lift the purse without being seen. When an opportune moment presents itself you see your take; twenty iron bits.
The afternoon wore on as the group made plans and they noticed fewer and fewer people still present on the streets as they went to their differing destinatons, many already settling into their primitive shelters.
Zanzu, Vincent, Khun-Duhn, Arachiel and Kirilarien went to the temple by the Common, the former looking around the building itself. The charcoal grey walls of the building gave it a sombre appearance, only emphasised by the skull and scythe above a setting sun painted on the door in red.
With little other recourse, the group knocked upon the door while Zanzu skulked around. The door opened to a single, dark room with a 40 foot ceiling of thatch below the tarp, ensuring very little light inside. Crude wooden benches faced an altar inside and the only illumination provided inside were red tapers burning in black iron sconces, mounted to the walls. Along the walls, various sentences are written in red paint, in a language none of you are familiar with.
The door has been opened to you by a grim-looking hobgoblin; he paints his face bone-white and wears only a black-hooded robe. You also spot two more hooded figures inside the church itself. The hobgoblin spoke with a slow smile.
Good evening travellers. I am Father Death. Are you simply exploring your new home or can I render assistance in some manner, hmm?
Your pretty confident there are no secondary entrances to the building.
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Nearby and opposite the boarding house ran by the polite Gnomes, Durin and Marcus found themselves at a sod house, complete with thatched roof and fieldstone chimney. Deeply recessed windows were blocked by heavy wooden shutters. There were signs of recent repair to this structure. Knocking on the door led to an anxious looking man approaching middle age poking his head out of the door, his expensive clothes and their style clearly marking him as a career diplomat.
Y... yes? he asked, clearly anxious.
Marcus shares a quick look with Durin and gives the man a reassuring smile.
Good afternoon. Sammur is it?
I am Marcus Claudius and this is my companion Durin Stonehammer.
We arrived at the Camp today with another of our company, a paladin of Myr.
Lets talk about how we can help you.
Zanzu sits on the steps outside the religious building, watching as the town quietens down. Taking the time to pick and clean his deadly claws, he clucks to himself, taking time to darken his clothing with the dirt and dust around him. despite his look of relaxation, he listens out for any untoward sounds from within the temple.
Durin, nods when introduced and does his best to look as least threatening as he can...