To All: "As Bataleigha suggests, let us go to Valden."
Enoby nudges the tiny dragon on her shoulder to the side slightly in order to pull the hood of her cloak back up and over her head and face.
"Fortunately, night is soon upon us. It will be much easier for me to see," she says half to herself.
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Deko nodded his head as he opened the door. "Deko lead way! Deko know town like back of hand!" Looking at the back of his hand, he exclaimed, "What this mark on Deko's hand? Deko not see it before!" Too busy looking at his hand, Deko once more walked into a stationary object, this time a light pole.
Having escaped the town hall with minimal damage -- mostly to Deko's pride, but any memory of that vanishes quickly -- you make your way across town to the east side.
The eastern end of town lies in the shadow of the hill upon which the keep is under construction. Atop the hill you see the bustle of workers in the distance: stonemasons carving blocks, laborers hauling the, an architect looking at drafts and securing posts and ties in the ground to provide guidance to the builders. A pair of Burne's Badgers loiter about the drawbridge, which is currently down; they stand at attention as Burne makes his way back in to the partially-completed structure.
A small dog runs up to your group, sniffs at you, barks a few times, follows you a short distance, then runs off.
A pair of farmers headed toward the main road -- and probably south to the Inn for beer after that, or perhaps off to the brewery directly -- spots your group, and though they give a quizzical look for a moment, they easily recognize Fezzik (who wouldn't, after he'd lived in the town for a while?) and give you a wide but polite berth.
You arrive at Valden's shop: A weatherbeaten building with a sign showing a cart and horse. There is an attached barn to one side and another barn in the rear. You note that there are people moving around in the back, and the front door is open a crack. Like many of the buildings in the town proper, this one is a store in front and a domicile in back.
After you give a perfunctory knock, a thirtyish man answers the door. He has tousled hair and a sour look. He appraises your group with a small amount of surprise, but he finally says, "Can I help you? You... don't look like you are looking for a wagon."
"We'd like to speak with Valden," Bataleigha states. "We have a few questions we'd like to ask regarding a recent loss of his. Burne sent us."
To Valden, and the group: "Ahhh, Mr. Valden, you are quite right, we are not seeking any wagons at this time. However, should we find ourselves short in the wagon department, well, enough about that. As I am sure you are aware, I" he puffs himself up on Enoby's shoulder and stretches his wings a bit,"am Zinnath, mighty dragon and apprentice to Grand Master Burne. I have been directed by the Grand Master to lead this group of bipeds, with a specific mission in mind. A mission of utmost importance, and one which while I shall not divulge the exact nature thereof, you will no doubt be able to guess at its importance by the very fact that I was put in charge of looking into it. As well, the nature of the questions that we might have for you, will of course lead you towards certain assumptions, but I will ask you to not divulge the nature of our business and this conversation to others."
Zinnath's eyes whirl around a bit, and he clucks a couple times, letting the gravity of all of this sink in before continuing, "so then, to the crux of our business, if we may? In your travels, and or your conversations with travelers, have you become aware of any strange occurences, creatures, events, sights, or locations resident to, or in the particular environs near to the village, per se? And if so, whether it be hearsay, or first person experience, would you please recount it to us, in a such a fashion, ergo, that we can properly associate your information, with other information we may have from various sources, which of course, we can't share with you, and shan't share with others what we hear from you. So, then, umm, what do you know or suspect?"
And then he adds, just to the party, and excludes Valden, "those legal words I picked up from a book recently."
"I'm Valden," the same man says, and turns to focus on Bataleigha. Just a few seconds later, a young fellow -- a teenager, it appears -- arrives next to the older man.
"Need any help, pa?" says the teen, but Valden waves him away. "No, no, son, I think this'll be fine."
The teenager nods and goes back to working on a wagon wheel in the workshop.
Valden sighs and steps out front. He says, "Bein' the wainwright, I have a couple teams of wagons that're used occasionally by tradesfolk -- small-time merchants making a quick trip, and so on. Anyway, 'bout two months back I let one out to a merchant who was carting a large shipment of local ale and trade goods -- mostly furniture from the carpenter -- down to Nulb, then he said he was plannin' to go to Kron, maybe trade for some tools there and make a quick circuit back. Fellow's name was Barek, an' he had plenty of coin. Hired on a few swordsmen, even had a mage workin' with him. Well, I guess none o' that mattered because he never came back. Last time we had a visitor that came up Nulb way, word is that he never arrived."
"Usually the roads aren't this kind of dangerous," says Valden, shaking his head wearily, "an' the fellow even took some precautions, so now I'm out a wagon and a team of mules. Plus of course whatever happened to the poor fellow Barek and his employees."
"Ehm, is that what you wanted to know?" he says a bit brusquely, peering at you from underneath a knitted, concerned brow.
Bataleigha stares at the man for a moment before nodding her head and stepping away, allowing the others to ask further questions if they have any.
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Kyrie raises an eyebrow in Zinnath's direction. She's been known to use some hefty words in her day, but even that was some verbose vernacular.
"Was there any investigation into Barek's disappearance? Did the visitor from Nulb mention anything? Even if he and his shipment were waylaid, there might still be the wagon or signs of a large battle that passers-by might notice? More so if there were a mage involved."
they easily recognize Fezzik (who wouldn't, after he'd lived in the town for a while?) and give you a wide but polite berth.
at Valden's shop: There is an attached barn to one side and another barn in the rear. You note that there are people moving around in the back, and the front door is open a crack. Like many of the buildings in the town proper, this one is a store in front and a domicile in back.
Leaving the talking to the smarter in the group, Fezzik follows his training and walks to the corner of the building in order to inspect the premises. He tries to see what is in the back barn but doesn't lose sight of the group at the front.
@Fezzik: The back barn has people up in the rafters/loft area.
The half-ogre lumbers around behind the building, peeking and poking here and there rather casually.
Valden eyes Zinnath and says, "I'm glad that Burne is finally taking this seriously. Sort of. As far as I know there was some discussion of sending a team to look for the missing wagon, and I assumed you were it. First anyone's approached me about it, anyway. A month I could see, the trip to Kron to trade and back is not a weekend jaunt; but at this point, knowing the caravan never reached Nulb, I have to assume the worst. I invested a lot of personal stake in that -- a wagon and team -- and I'm worried that it may be a sign of worse things to come if it's not figured out. Plus if the roads get too dangerous, nobody will want to use them for trading and I won't have any business anyway, and then how will I feed my family?" He looks genuinely worried and wrings his hands briefly.
"All I want is to find out what happened to that trade group, maybe find the missing folks and see if my wagon and team can be recovered. The visitor from Nulb was just passing through, said he was on his way to Safeton, stopped at the Inn for a day and then was on his way again; he said he hadn't seen hide nor hair of any traders on the road, which is what got me really nervous. Maybe there were signs of a battle but if so he didn't mention 'em."
but even that was some verbose vernacular.
Zinnath was encouraged by the man's willingness to answer questions, so far. He pressed his line of questioning, allowing all to hear again, "Barek you said his name was? So, he was transporting ale and furniture was he, and hoping to return with tools huh? To Nulb and Kron? Is there any reason to assume that he might have been engaged in any illicit activities? The guards he took, were they local mercenaries? Any chance they were of dubious character themselves, I mean beyond their obvious propensity to be willing to commit violence for a paycheck? Is Barek a local, and if so, does he have family or a home around? You say he had plenty of coin? Would that have been common knowledge when he left? Perhaps he was waylaid simply for simply larcenomious reasons, or perhaps his furniture or tools were the targets? Just so that we know what we're looking for here, when you say wagon, is that the two or the four wheeled ones? Do you place a maker's mark of any sort on your products, so that we could positively identify the item if we found one?"
Satisfied that there is nothing unusual going on, Fezzik smiles and nods to the workers and then returns to the front of the building, staying off to the side so as to not get in the way of the conversation.
Valden straightens slightly as Zinnath bombards him with questions, since now it seems like someone is actually paying attention to his problem.
"Barek was the merchant who hired use of my wagon, yes. He had three swordsfolk and a mage to assist in guarding the wagon. Not exactly a grand caravan, but still, he filled the wagon up with barrels and lashed several pieces of furniture to the top. His guards were hired help from Verbobonc -- ex-military, by the look of them; studded leather, spears, short swords, the sort of thing you see on militia. Barek's not local, but he arrived here with a mule of his own and several bags of wares for sale; primarily goods from the big city like painted ceramics and jewelry. He made enough trades that he needed to hire my wagon to move his additional goods on to Nulb and beyond."
Valden opens the door to the side-barn, and there is another wagon inside. "Matched this one," he says. "Four wheels, sturdy, open back, half-canopy in front, coachman's bench. My mark is on the wheels, here." He bends over and points at the wheel hub, where it has a simple design in the shape of a letter "V" with a dot over it and a wavy line under it, burned into the wood with a brand. He stands back up and says, "If the wagon wasn't seen on the road, someone would've had to haul it off somewhere. That would leave tracks, but it's been months now so there's no telling if there's anything to be found out there."
"Occasionally wagons get stuck in the swampland, folks have to use boards to lever them out, but again, nobody mentioned actually seeing it."
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As the small dragon started to say really big words directly into Deko's head, one could almost see steam start pouring from his ears as he tried to understand what was being said. Finally, giving it up as a lost cause and hoping to save his poor brain, he instead started flexing the muscles in his right arm, fascinated by the way they moved under his skin.
"So finally someone is respecting the power of the dragon properly," thinks Zinnath only to himself.
Zinnath releases his tail grip on Enoby's neck and takes wing towards the wagon. He flies under it, and over it. He inspects the wheels, to get a good idea what their tracks will look like, and finally he takes a mental picture of the maker's mark. Occasionally he emotes a "hmmmmm" or a "very interesting" to everyone, as he has heard such things done in similar situations before.
Finally, he flies back to Enoby's shoulders. To everyone he says, "despite my lack of understanding why bipeds drink ale and other noxious beverages for the purpose of impairing their judgement and other bodily functions, it would seem that this was exactly what it appears to be, a trader carrying goods, who was either waylaid, or got lost in his travels. Do any of you have questions for good Valden here?"
"I am finished," Bataleigha states flatly to the man. "Thank you for your time."
To the PCs: "Shall we then to the Inn, or to the trading post?"
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Deko looked up startled as the others finished their questions. Putting on his best grin, showing off his row of jagged teeth, he said, "Deko thank you for words!" to the wainwright before looking at his companions. "Deko say we go to shops! Find good food there! And drinks! Yes, find good drinks!" And, once again, Deko turned around to march off only to run into a flag pole.
As Deko accidentally slams into a post while turning around, Valden casually moves up to help the half-orc back to his feet. "Sorry about that," he says. "Been meaning to move that hitching post back into the field area between the barns."
"If you're going to the trading post," he adds, "Stay on your toes. I don't... those new traders have um... I think they're not really invested in the welfare of the village, I suppose?"
Deko gets Fezzik's attention at the sound of food as a low grumble emanates from his stomach. "Food? I hungry, so I go there," he says as he follows the others.
"I have need of some trail rations should we decide to go off in search of the missing wagon," Bataleigha says. "If we visit the trading post, perhaps only some of us should enter--no sense in showing our full strength to a potential spy. Maybe we could even set a trap of sorts if, indeed, these traders seem 'off'--perhaps I could let slip that I'm in town seeking evil raiders and Zinnath could watch for any reaction."
To the party:
"So shall I ride on your shoulder for this? I'm guessing there might be an adverse reaction to Enoby? Although no one will tell me why?"
[To Zinnath]: Enoby is a dark elf--a drow. They are almost as universally evil as white dragons...maybe even moreso.
Perhaps you can sneak in through a window and observe things from hiding...or maybe even fly up to the roof and do some spying to see if anyone leaves the place right after we do.
You head west to the trading post. It's a large but rough-hewn structure, reminiscent of the kind of gear-stuffed single-story shack that you'd expect to find out on the rugged frontier, not in the heart of a prosperous farming community. Several lean and ragged dogs lie in the sun behind the place. Large numbers of barrels and crates are likewise stacked in the back. The front door grinds slightly with wood on wood as you push it open. The entire place is stuffy, filled with smells of wood, leather, oil, and dust. The ceiling is not terribly high and many items are hanging from pegs or straps, and Fezzik has to duck down quite a bit to get inside, though the wide doorway at least can just barely accommodate him.
A man approaches from the back of the large warehouse-like room, waving as he comes toward you. "Good day! I am Rannos, one of the traders of this fine establishment," he says. He gives a nod to Fezzik and continues, "What brings the Badgers here? Though it seems to be more a mixed assembly of people with one of the Badgers along. Do you need more supplies for the keep? For the troops? Or for some of these new travelers here in town?" He flashes a gap-toothed smile as he gestures expansively about the room.
On the way there:
To All: "As suggested, I will fly high and watch for strangeness outside."
As they arrive, Zinnath will do as requested: hide
+4 in forests
And watch for strangeness.
"Good day, Rannos. I require ten days' worth of trail rations. Other than that, I should be all set...unless you have anything out of the ordinary for sale."
Enoby calmly directs her thoughts at Zinnath.
"Small creature, I must inform you of something but I must trust that you will betray no hint of the information I am about to give you and proceed in such a way as to impart no hint to the others present."
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Deko paused and thought for a moment, ignoring the twinge of pain in his head. What did Deko want from here again? Was it food? He was hungry, but the tavern would feed him. Drinks? He was thirsty, so he pulled his handy flask of whiskey and took a swig. That hit the spot for him. There was something he was forgetting, though, something important... Words! Deko needed words for leader person! Clearing his throat, and being sure to put his own words in the right order, he started to speak. "What can tell of store person who go bye-bye?" he asked, only occasionally slurring a word or five.
Zinnath continues to stay hidden outside and scan the area looking for odd things.
Fezzik had been to the trading post before, usually just to pull the cart back to the tower. He had never been inside, and now seeing how cramped it was, wished he had stayed outside. He was starting to get annoyed with all the items hanging from the ceiling as they hit him in the head if he did not duck.
When Rannos greeted them, he smiled and nodded. But at the mention of the Badgers, he became confused and looked around to see who else was there. Realizing he meant the group he was with, he shook his head no. "Not Badgers, friends. Important job." He suddenly stopped and looked concerned. "I hope I not say too much," he thought as he looked at the cleric to see if she seemed upset.
"Room too small. I go outside," he said as he carefully made his way back out of the building, trying not to knock over too much.
Bataleigha added a sack of apples to her order. She kept an eye on Rannos, if only to see how he reacted to the words of the lumbering halfbreeds.
Rannos says, "Traveling provisions? No trouble at all. I have some good local bread and some fresh and dried apples, plus a selection of jerked and smoked meats -- goat and mutton, mostly -- and I have a small amount of hardtack. The fresh food will only last a couple days, of course, but the jerky and tack will stay edible for many days. So, do you need ten days' worth for just you, or for each person in your... company?" he says slickly as he starts fetching small sacks and filling them with foodstuffs.
"Just a moment," he says as he finishes pulling some apples from a barrel. "GREMAG!" he shouts toward the back of the store. There's the sound of a slamming door and a heavyset man with a black goatee arrives. "Gremag, where are the pressed apricots?" Rannos says to the man, then turns and says to you, "This is my business partner and associate, Gremag."
Gremag grunts and says, "I moved them to a box in back so they didn't get crushed. If they stayed in that sack, someone would've put something on top of them."
Rannos smiles and says, "Pressed apricots and apricot preserves too, if you like. The preserves are excellent to add some flavor to the hardtack, makes a tasty sweet spread with a bit of tang."
Bataleigha nods at Gremag, committing his name to memory. To Rannos she says, "Just for me, thank you. Two days' fresh food and eight days' hard tack, jerky, and dried fruit will do fine, and the apricot preserves sound wonderful. Oh--and don't forget the apples."
Rannos smiles toothily and says, "No problem! Let me just do a quick count here..." he stuffs apples in a small bag, places fresh bread in a separate sack, and then wraps a bundle of hardtack, jerky, and apricot preserves in a ceramic jar sealed with wax. "That'll be... five gold, four silver, if you don't mind."
Bataleigha frowns initially, but after doing the math in her head decides she's not being totally ripped-off. She digs into her belt pouch and fishes out payment, thanking the man for the goods. She then walks out the front door.
The cleric starts heading back toward the inn, trying to act nonchalant.
While packing food for Bataleigha, Rannos looks puzzled; his brow furrows and he says to Deko, "I'm not sure what you mean? It's just me and Gremag and the dogs here, nobody has left recently."
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Kyrie catches the sound of some yelling and someone mentioning preserved apricots. Her mouth starts to involuntarily water. 'Mmmm. I hope she got some. And then I hope the dragon doesn't eat them all!'
She starts walking along behind Bat. When they get out of earshot she asks, "Well, how did it go? And, more importantly, did you get any dried apricots?"