Vincent decides to make the first move in this situation.
"Greetings Father." he gives a bow "To be honest we havn't been here long, but I am curious as to the temple itself and what services you may provide travellers from the south?"
Diplomacy:
Khun-duhn nods in agreement with Arachiel, following Durin's example and trying to look less threatening while also glancing around the interior of the temple.
Although "Father Death" clearly recognised Arachiel's faith and was perhaps wary of it, the Hobgoblin seemed quite cheerful in response to Arachiel's niceties. Khun-Duhn didn't see a lot going on inside the temple itself.
A pleasure, a pleasure to be sure. We provide curative magic, last rites and other clerical services for the camp. While we venerate the God of Death, we are in no rush to bring that death to anyone; it will come soon enough, in a place like this; and we are patient. The Desolation is beautiful. It provides death in more ways than you can imagine: sudden death, slow, lingering death, death by sword and tooth, death by poison, the wracking death of disease, or the extended painful death from thirst. Think about it... what ways must exist to meet death out there that haven’t even been discovered yet?
Father Death looked right at Arachiel as he waved a stern finger.
We do no harm to anyone and break none of the Usurer's laws. Now, what insights can I offer you? Rumours, you say? Do tell.
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Sammur looked immediately relieved, although anxious to hurry you inside. He is middle-aged with only a touch of gray in his hair. The worry lines on his face seem to have deepened recently.
Please, please come in!
Inside, the interior is clearly newly furnished and the bed looks barely slept in. Sammur hasn't been at the Camp for very long.
As for how you can help me; you certainly seem like capable sorts. You say you travel with a Paladin of Muir, hmm?
I'll start with my story. I am Sammar of Bard’s Gate, recently installed diplomatic agent to the Camp. My masters have elected to reopen the northern trade route through the Desolation, and I have been instructed to set up an embassy here to oversee the city’s interests in such a venture. I arrived here with a caravan some weeks ago and set up facilities to serve in the interim until a caravan route could be successfully established and lucrative trade opened up. My caravan departed north not a week ago to open that route and seek valuable trade with the exotic lands of the north. They are not expected back for several months, but I fear ill fortune has befallen them.
Though the caravan had its own contingent of guardsmen, for added security they hired a band of ogre mercenaries led by a hill giant to safely escort them across the Desolation. As you are aware, the giant leader of that band returned in none-too-good-a-shape and without his ogre warriors. It is too soon for the giant to have escorted the caravan all the way across the Desolation and already returned to the Camp. Therefore, I fear the worst.
It is my understanding that you are adventurers who seek to enter the Desolation anyway. All I ask is that you search for the lost caravan and return with any survivors or news of its fate if there are none. For this task I can assure you that you will be richly rewarded by my government. Bard’s Gate is a rich and powerful city with vast wealth from its commerce. It knows how to repay those who give it assistance. Please, will you help me?
|
Although "Father Death" clearly recognised Arachiel's faith and was perhaps wary of it, the Hobgoblin seemed quite cheerful in response to Arachiel's niceties. Khun-Duhn didn't see a lot going on inside the temple itself.
A pleasure, a pleasure to be sure. We provide curative magic, last rites and other clerical services for the camp. While we venerate the God of Death, we are in no rush to bring that death to anyone; it will come soon enough, in a place like this; and we are patient. The Desolation is beautiful. It provides death in more ways than you can imagine: sudden death, slow, lingering death, death by sword and tooth, death by poison, the wracking death of disease, or the extended painful death from thirst. Think about it... what ways must exist to meet death out there that haven’t even been discovered yet?
Father Death looked right at Arachiel as he waved a stern finger.
We do no harm to anyone and break none of the Usurer's laws. Now, what insights can I offer you? Rumours, you say? Do tell.
"No one has said that your church has done any harm to anyone, Father." Arachiel says with a soft smile.
"One of the more troubling rumors has to do with those who remain outdoors after sundown never being seen again. Naturally, the assumption is that these individual are no longer among the living. Would you have any insights as to the cause of these disappearances, again we are newcomers to the Camp, so please forgive any questions that might be common knowledge for those who have been here longer."
Marcus looks sidewise at Durin following Sammur's sort-of reward offer.
We will need to confer with our colleagues but I suspect they will be willing to look out for your caravan.
It would be helpful if you could recall anything of significance that may give us a clue as to what befell them. The giant was burnt by acid. Any idea of what may have caused that?
We also gather at least a rivalry between the giant's band and the other mercenary group. What do you know about them? Did your caravan discuss any arrangements with them before hiring the giant?
Khun-duhn carefully studies Father Death as he speaks, seeking to discern any deception in the hobgoblin's words or manner.
Durin watches and listens to Sammar as he speaks.
Please forgive my candor Sammar, but as an emissary, a hired mouth if you will, much like I am a hired sword, you are paid to convince fellows like us to risk death in the desolation for promises of "rich rewards". I am hoping that you can be a bit more specific with regards to the reward. It has been my experience that when such a thing is left unspecified, and to the imagination of the listener, disappointment usually results. The offering man's idea of "rich" rarely matches the recipients.
Durin's eyes twinkle and he smiles, showing he means no offense.
I just think it best to be up front as much as possible to avoid the possibility of future tensions.
Father Death looked at Arachiel with a slight, crafty smile as he replied-
I'm afraid my acolytes and I don't know the details, but everyone has been advising one another to be in shelter when the sun goes down... For the past few weeks as a matter of fact. Sound advice, even before those out late at night started going missing... Oh, but make no mistake- they definitely pass from this mortal coil. Bodies have been found, especially near the Common.
You don't think he is lying but you have a hunch he is withholding information.
___________________________________________________________________________
Acid? I have no idea. I have not left the safety of the camp and I was hoping I wouldn't have to... You hear all kinds of rumours about the Desolation.
You mean Clantock's Furious Fourteen? We heard their services were inferior to the Pounders, and say what you like about them, but Ogre's led by a Hill Giant would seem a formidable deterrent to attack, no?
After hearing Durin out, Sammur looked even less happy.
I can only give you my assurances good Dwarf, but if you are to head out into the Desolation anyway, surely it costs you little to keep an eye out? The caravan was headed directly north on the main track so it shouldn't be hard to find... I'm unable to give you specifics without speaking to my superiors but I can give you assurances on behalf of Bard's Gate- that the greater your success in finding and returning survivors of the expedition the greater your reward shall be.
Your pretty confident he believes what he is saying; and its true that Bard's Gate is a prosperous city that looks after its own.
Don't look so down Sammar... this is only good natured negotiations. I would think that you would be used to this sort of thing, given your position in general, and this place in particular! Durin smiles broadly again.
Tell you what, since we are going out anyways, as you say, I will keep this eye out for your caravan, for free, gesturing to one of his eyes, And I will keep the other for our business. But now, if something to do with this caravan requires both of my eyes... well, then, I'll be expecting some sort of decent reward. Durin good naturedly ribs Sammar with his elbow, careful not to nudge him too hard. Sound fair?
Sense motive:
I don't trust him, but for the moment we need to learn more about this new place we've arrived at.
"No one has seen what may have claimed these people before their mortal coil was shed?" Vincent asks as he continues to listen to this hobgoblin. "You say bodies have been found, but how long between them dissappearing before their bodies have been found? No possible way that they have been abducted and then dumped?"
Fairly certain that they've got what they can out of Sammar, Marcus waits to hear the man's response to Durin's proposal.
As the two leave.
Very well Sammar. If you hear anything that may assist, anything at all, please let us know. You will likely find us at the boarding house, at least after tonight.
At the church Kiri scans the hobgoblin priest for evil, expecting to find an aura but trying to get a rough sense of his spellcasting ability.
"No one has seen what may have claimed these people before their mortal coil was shed?" Vincent asks as he continues to listen to this hobgoblin. "You say bodies have been found, but how long between them dissappearing before their bodies have been found? No possible way that they have been abducted and then dumped?"
"And in what condition have they been found?" Khun-duhn adds to Vincent's questions with a growl. "For someone familiar with the myriad forms of death, surely you can tell something about how they died."
Zanzu yawns as he sits on the steps outside the temple's entrance.
Durin's broad smile and cheerful words did not cheer up the somewhat miserable diplomat.
Its not a matter of negotiation, Durin, because I simply do not have funds or the ability to promise them, without sending word to Bard's Gate. Nevertheless, Bard's Gate rewards those who assist it. I appreciate you keeping even one eye open for the caravan and its fate.
Sammur shook Durin and Marcus' hands.
I'd suggest you get into shelter soon. Its late and you don't want trouble.
___________________________________________________________________________
They are always found the next day, usually with their...
The white-faced hobgoblin looked straight at Kiriarien and snarled at her as she began her spell. He spat out a Good day! as he slammed shut the door to the church before even answering Khun-Duhn. Behind them, the group spotted Marcus and Durin being led out of the building opposite by a middle aged dignitary.
Durin shakes Sammar's hand enthusiastically while responding, Who says we want to avoid trouble? with a twinkle in his eye before heading out the door.
As Marcus and Durin make their way through the rapidly emptying streets to meet up with the others Durin remarks, I wonder what that poor fellow did to deserve a post here? He doesn't seem to cut out for it, nor enthusiastic about his job...
...of course, losing an entire caravan probably hasn't ingratiated himself with his superiors either at this point.
Vincent looks to Kiriarien and shrugs.
"He wouldn't have reacted if he had nothing to hide, but I do not feel like confronting an entire temple with so few of us, especially if we do not know for certain that he is in the wrong or not." he listens to Arachiel's suggestion and nods. "Sounds good, let us meet up with the rest and see if they have found out anything interesting. If whatever has been out there in the shadows taking people away tries anything, it'll find itself at the end of our blades."
Zanzu follows on, listening to the conversations. He shrugs as he realises the visit didn't seem to be such a success. "Well lads, where we making our beds, back to that deserted camp, for a nights entertainment." he winks at Durin and Arachiel.
As Durin listens to some of the others as they make comments full of bravado, much like his own usual boastings... he cannot help but think that they should be careful what they wish for regarding tonight's investigations. Whatever has been plaguing the town is obviously scary enough to keep otherwise very tough and capable inhabitants in after dark. Overconfidence could get us into trouble... just look at what happened to Gurg and his companions in the desolation.
It is agreed then? We spend tonight in the Pounder's old camp? After we spend a wee bit more time in the tavern that is. I believe I left some ale on the table earlier this afternoon...
Zanzu looks at Durin, opening his eyes, "We could guess that, Durin, for the ancient blood calls you to it's nature, like all of your kind. So, I'll join you in the tavern and let you fill my cup with ale, but we must be quick, night will quickly fall upon us." Zanzu almost hops ahead of Durin as they stride towards the tavern.
The Pounders camp has more than enough bedrolls available but the decent tents and shelter they no doubt once had pitched up were likely long ago looted...
Durin groans, looking wistfully at the tavern in the distance. And leave you here to have all the fun by yourself?
"I will wait here with Arachiel," Khun-duhn growls.
Durin sighs and turns his back to the tavern. You know I will not enjoy myself while my friends are lurking about in the dark looking for things that go bump in the night. If something should happen to one of you, I would never forgive myself. There will be other nights to enjoy an ale. We have business to attend to...
Durin hoists his hammer off his shoulder and grasps it firmly in both hands. Mumbling under his breath to no one in particular, Durin muses, How is it that they always know how to do that?
Addressing the others more directly he adds, What is the plan? Just wander around? Split up or together? Maybe use one of us as bait and lay in ambush?
"So serious, no time for fun, eh Durin? Best we follow him and keep him from bringing the 'good folk' of this rat hole down on us." Zanzu grumbles under his breath to Durin, whilst his eyes look intently at Arachiel. He shuts his beak tightly together, clucking as he does, in annoyance as the group make their way together. "You know Durin, I'm sure if we don't go looking for trouble it'll come find us, it's worked in the past, what was that witch's name, Grey Yolanda, wasn't it. She really got upset with us trespassing in her marsh, made it much easier to find her and those kids she abducted. Never liked that place, dank and wet." Zanzu mumbles and grumbles on to Durin. "If we're staying out in the open, then best we prepare first, I think some branches wouldn't go amiss." Zanzu looks around the desolate place, "A shovel, I wanna go buy a shovel if we're staying out here. Anyone brought a shovel with them?" he calls out to the group.
A quick wander around the common revealed that the group were now the only people on the streets of the Camp; in various shelters, tents and pitiful shacks as well as a couple of finer abodes such as Sammur's, the residents of the town were already retired for the evening. The group also noted that the tavern was already closed...
Zanzu is able to make a extremely crude shelter without much trouble, although it is little more than used cloth with sticks holding it up. The night is already beginning to feel quite chilly...
Sat by the fire, the group could not help but notice that the Desolation is a truly dry place. The occasional night breezes often brought a haze of white, powder-like dust from the north; lending to the overall feel of gloominess and isolation felt throughout the camp.
An hour passed. Other than the occasional voice, snoring or animal sound, the Camp was eerily quiet.