Shortly after leaving the Garrison, an irate Pennae Kesk comes storming up to you.
"You there! The fat one," she screeches as she points one long bony finger at you, "have you seen my worthless husband about?"
Asuriel is caught off guard, the last person she expected to be approached by was Pennae. She freezes at first at the accusation as the earlier actions of Maver pressing her index finger into her belly a few times and watching it bounce back out replay over and over.
She lets out a heavy sigh as her head sags down some, but thinks back on her conversation with Pavanna.
The only person you should blame for Pennae Kesk’s being so disagreeable is Pennae Kesk.
The words of wisdom echo inside her mind as the latest insult is tossed towards the oracle. She inhales deeply, doing her best to not let the heavy events of the day weigh on this interaction. She may not be able to hide all of her frustration, but at least her face does not redden this time.
She clears her throat and throws a tight-lipped smile onto her face, blowing right past the insult that was hurled at her. "Good Pennae. Why, I was so hoping to make your acquaintance again so soon. I wanted to say what a pleasure it was speaking with you earlier and hoped to apologize if my behavior was inappropriate in any fashion. If in anyway offended you, I offer now my sincerest apologies. I had hoped we could get off on better ground."
Wait until I tell Pavanna about this, she will most certainly look favorably upon my actions!
The oracle even lets a small natural smile develop on her face, confident in her actions of mediation.
"Aye, not many 'preciate a well made polearm. Nice to see someone pick this one up. Made 'er m'self. Now that I have you here, can I interest you in a crossbow. Very fine make, elven carvings on the stock, but the guts are all dwarven," she says with a grin that's only half joking.
As you play, the world moves at a lesser pace. People slow and stop to listen to the bittersweet music.The birds quiet, letting a maestro have his time to perform. Nothing seems to matter as the song swells through the crisp autumn air. Then as the end comes, everything seems to stop. There's only the music, the song of sweet Rosaline.
Then silence.
"So that's what the true Horatio is like," a familiar voice says. When Horatio opens his eyes, he sees Ameiko standing there, her characteristic smirk gone, replaced by eyes filled with sadness and a longing to help ease the pain.
"How often do you play like that," she asks, taking a seat beside the bard.
"I wish we could tell you, but we're bound by divine law. We can't without unmaking ourselves," Mags answers, "but I think there's something more pressing on your mind, isn't there?"
"Well, I think we'll avoid the words of wisdom, so that just leaves who's going to kick her arse," Cade says with a wry chuckle, "That I think we can help with, if you want."
"My finances are none of your concern, young lady," Maver says in a mock serious tone, "besides, I don't really care what others think of me, and I happen to be almost as rich as the nobles here. I live comfortably and make a fair bit of coin off my work, which is all I can ask for."
The jeweler heaves a comical sigh before continuing, "but if you insist, I'll accept your payment," he says holding one hand behind his back before graciously accepting the payment, after wishing you luck and farewell until the next time, he stands up to hug Pavanna and whispers for her to be careful.
It's only ten minutes after leaving Risa's place that you notice ten familiar coins had made their way back into your purse.
Pennae huffs and fixes you with a glare.
"You can start by telling me where my husband is," she fumes, obviously not impressed by your civility.
"Thirzin, are... are we going to be okay," she asks timidly.
Noro raises an eyebrow at the comments. damn, how do they know? she ponders.
well yesh, I would like to know who wantsh my assh kicked next. And...
she seems hesitant to continue, she keeps looking around hoping not to see any familiar faces. its like she nneds to keep up her tough girl persona but at the same time she is trying to let it go sometimes.
nevermind that lasht part, Jusht who will kick my Assh?
It's not the best performance of his life - the memories are still too new, the pain still harsh on the strings - but it isn't bad. Horatio's body feels light as the piece draws to a close; he slumps back when finished, as if exhausted, though he feels nothing. He allows his head to fall back over the back of the bench, arms spread either side, neck arched, face turned upwards towards the autumn sky. So lost is he in his little moment, that he starts in alarm at the familiar voice, body jerking as if woken from a deep sleep.
When he sees who it is, he relaxes slightly, straightening and pulling his hair back again. "I'm a man of many faces. You haven't seen half of them yet," he says with a grim smile, clearing a space on the bench. "Sometimes, I don't even know which is the real one anymore."
Leaning his elbows on his knees, he ponders the question. Hells, how long has it been? he asks himself. "Not as often as I should," he says eventually, staring straight ahead and not making eye contact. "It's not particularly lucrative. People don't want that kind of thing outside of orchestras and concert halls. Which, as I'm sure you've noticed, I haven't had much luck with, considering how busy I've been with all this 'heroing' business." He laughs bitterly, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.
"People want to make new memories, not dwell on old ones. When I play, I help that process. I'm a background accompaniment to a day of joy. I make people dance. I've seen young lovers' eyes meet for the first time when they get caught up in a swirl of excitement, their arms linking to my music. I've heard children asking their parents if they can have a violin, 'so they can play pretty music, too'. But bittersweet melodies don't sell, and I don't make the time to play for myself anymore." He lets out a deep sigh, leaning back again, staring into the sky. "That particular piece, I haven't played for years," he says quietly. "I'm frankly amazed I still remember it."
She looks up from her bemusement to see Pennae Kesk standing on the street ‘talking’ to Asuriel, for all the world looking like a bulldog baling up a wolfhound. And now to build more bridges between celestial and devilkin, she notes ruefully, stepping into the discussion. “Actually, Asuriel, I left him at Risa’s Place not too long ago. He’d almost worked himself into a swoon completing that piece I commissioned, and I bought him lunch to be sure he didn’t collapse on the way home from delivering the thing to me.”
She turns a concerned gaze on Pennae and adds, in all honest hope of being helpful, “I know he’s a hard-headed sort, especially when he gets wrapped up in his work, but you really do need to take better care of that man.”
Asuriel lets out an audible sigh of relief when Pavanna walks up.
Good. She can take care of this tenacious old human.
“I know he’s a hard-headed sort
Asuriel turns away and mutters under her breath, "Gee, I wonder where he gets it..."
"I could tell you, but you are not going to like the answer," Mags says with a shrug, "but since you insist, it's up to you and fate. Choices you make and the fights you choose will affect what happens, but so can random chance. All it takes is for one lucky stroke from a goblin to end you."
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't start picking a fight with us though, however there are other ways we can help. If you want, we'd be more than happy to pick up where your father left off," Cade adds.
"Doubt the price will be to yer likin' then. Shame Aldern didn't stick around, I was sure I could have convinced 'im it would be perfect for 'is mantle. Ah, well. Might as well get it out and let ye have a look-see," Savah says as she ducks under the counter and pulls out a large wooden case with silver and gold inlays. Inside the dark wine-red velvet interior is a very beautiful crossbow with fine carvings inlaid with various metals and gems. The mechanisms are equally beautiful. The crossbow is as much an artwork as it is a weapon.
"Bought it off an adventurer about a year back. Never thought I'd be tryin' to get rid of it. a year later. I had some of the wizardly folk in town look at it, and it has a minor enchantment on it t'help ye shoot truer an' with a might bit more punch. So would a 'undred an' twenty plat be to yer likin'?"
"If I'd known you could play like that, I'd have paid double for you to follow me around today and yesterday," Ameiko says as she watches the people go by. Some tipping their hats or nodding their sympathies, others hurrying along and looking away.
"It's... odd. I'm not sure if I want to laugh, cry, or just curl up in some corner and never go outside again," she says slowly, "I never forgave my father for what he did to Tsuto, and now... Now I don't know if I can forgive Tsuto for what he did to me. I loved him, I still do. He's my brother, but when Tilo asked what punishment he should suggest, I couldn't find it in myself to ask, to beg for leniency."
Ameiko shudders next to Horatio, tears silently falling down her face.
"I'm alone, and scared. My mother and father are dead, as is my only brother. I don't want to be alone, Horatio. I don't want to be alone..."
Pennae looks as if she'd been punched by the pair of demi-humans now talking to her. She takes in a shuddering breath and turns to Pavanna.
"Thank. You. That... Was. Most. Gra. Cious. Of. You," she gets out through gritted teeth before storming off.
Ping stops by a tree and slides down it to the ground.
"Am I doing the right thing," she wonders aloud. For a few moments, there is only the gentle rustling of leaves in the wind.
"Vell, dot depends on vot hyu are doink, jah," a deep, thickly accented voice answers, bring a squeak out of the small gnome.
"Ho, Hy guess hyu vas talkink to hyurself, jah? Vell, Hy em here so vhy are hyu vonderink if vot hyu iz doink iz de right ting?" A tall half-orc with a wide-brimmed hat and long, silky black hair slides around the tree trunk and looks down at the blue-haired gnome.
"My friends are going to fight goblins, and I... I couldn't handle it. I couldn't handle the fear and terror," she says, shame causing her cheeks to burn dull red.
"Ho, dot's all," the half-oc laughs, "vell, hyu iz in goot company, frauline. Hy vonder dot too," The half-orc sobers, leaning over his knees and looking Ping in the eyes.
"Dot doesn't mean ve iz bad peeple. Ve iz like enyvun else. Ve live, ve laff, ve love, und ve mess up, bot ve is living. Ve can fix et as long as ve iz alive, jah? Goblins ken be scary, bot dey's not so bright or brave. Dey goes after de vuns dey tinks iz easy. Und if deys still scary, hyu haff friends to rely on, jah? So if hyu ken't handle et, let dem help hyu handle et. Beink brave is not de same as fearless. Beink brave is doink vot is right even vhen hyu iz scared silly."
"I... I guess you're right... um. I never got your name," Ping says as she brightens up some.
"Hy em Gkirkhan, und vot may Hy call hyu," he asks in return.
"Ping Ibbleting of Whistledown."
"Vell Ping, if hyu leave now, hyu could still catch up, if hyu tink dot iz vot hyu need to do."
Noro gives a slight chuckle and takes a seat nearby. Firsht off, I never intended to pick a Fight with you. No reashon to. and ash for what you have told me. Well itsh jusht ash myshterious as alwaysh and tellsh me nothing I probably didn't already know.
after a short pause, no matter though, itsh probably for the besht that I not know.
Still, Noro looks troubled and seems reluctant if not afraid to say.
Olivius inspects the piece with a knowledgeable eye. It was worth that price at least. He'd almost be afraid to go outside with it.
It's a fine piece. I'll admit. But the city doesn't pay me that well. Remember, you're talking to a caravan guard. He chuckles. Gives me some time. If you can come down a bit, perhaps I can dig up some treasure or work a few shifts at the docks. You wouldn't happen to have a Ranseir as fancy as this, would you?
"Well, any time you like, I'll follow you around and play in time with your divine footfalls," Horatio jokes, trying to lighten the mood, even as he's confronted by the open display of emotion and loss next to him. After a few awkward moments of fidgeting with his knuckles, he sighs, wraps an arm around Ameiko's shoulders with a muttered, "C'mere," and pulls her a little closer.
"You're not alone, Ameiko," he says quietly, unsure whether it's to keep passersby from hearing or simply because it feels more real. "I know what it's like to grieve, and I can tell you, shutting yourself away isn't a healthy option. I did that to cope with my own loss - I didn't speak, I hardly slept or ate. I barely even played, because that seemed to bring no joy anymore. And that made everything much worse. So can I suggest the laughing or crying options? They're far better."
Trying to force a smile, he adds, "And you're not alone in this world, or even this town. People care about you, and they want to see you happy. I'm one of them. If you need company, or just a shoulder to cry on, come find me - I've got two, and Rosaline can't take up both of them. I'll be wherever the morals are few and the drinks are many."
“... was it something I said?”
Asuriel smirks, "I hope so. Well done my friend! That situation resolved itself quite well, don't you agree? Tell me, how did you know that would send her packing like so-"
The oracle catches sight of the thin case of polished mahogany and loses her thought. "Oh, that's beautiful. Is that new?"
The oracle catches sight of the thin case of polished mahogany and loses her thought. "Oh, that's beautiful. Is that new?"
Pavanna’s still looking after Pennae, and jumps a little when Asuriel’s question registers. “Hmmm? Oh, that’s just the presentation case. The holy symbol I commissioned from Maver is inside. The stubborn old goat” she raps her knuckles against one horn, as if to add And yes, that comes from a stubborn young kid! “insisted on refusing any payment for it, though.”
Seeing Asuriel’s keen interest, she pops open the case’s lid and turns it to the aasimar’s full view. “The man’s work is exquisite, don’t you think?”
A moment later, once Asuriel’s had time to appreciate the Iomedaean emblem Maver crafted, she draws the second case from her pocket and extends it to the oracle. “For that matter, he asked me to pass this on to you. I’d be interested to see it. Personally, I feel the man deserves payment for such artworks, but if you try to offer it, I wish you all the luck: I forced ten platinum on him, and he slipped the coin back into my pocket after we ate.”
Her words face off as she hesitantly takes the dark oak case with the golden sunburst on its lid slowly from Pavanna. She doesn't open it but just holds it in her hands looking down at the case. "Pavanna, If it's anything like yours I cannot accept such a gift. The amount of labor, nay, the materials alone are too expensive for a gift I'm afraid. The may will go hungry I, I..."
Her voice trails off as she looks down at the unopened case, afraid to see what is inside. With a heavy sigh she flips open the case to inspect its contents.
Her words face off as she hesitantly takes the dark oak case with the golden sunburst on its lid slowly from Pavanna. She doesn't open it but just holds it in her hands looking down at the case. "Pavanna, If it's anything like yours I cannot accept such a gift. The amount of labor, nay, the materials alone are too expensive for a gift I'm afraid. The man will go hungry I, I..."
“I made that very argument — and watched Maver trample all over it like a Hellknight on a destrier,” Pavanna shrugs, a little helplessly. “He says, very firmly, that his skills have earned him more than enough over the years for him to afford these generosities and still live comfortably. Of course, you’re welcome to try to persuade him to accept and actually keep your coin, but if you manage it, please: tell me how? I’ve met dwarves who weren’t that stubborn,” she finishes ruefully. Though Maver certainly has a lighter touch. Sczarni pickpockets could take lessons from him.
"Well, lad... the dwarf sighs heavily, loosening the knots of shaggy, reddish hair that begin at the nape of his neck and climb up the base of his spine, exposing several old patches of scar tissue, as well as precisely how long his hair is.
"My whole clan was known to hunt the formerly living. We were one of the few dwarves in our line of work. Came from Ustalav many years back, but never knew quite how far. I was the one chosen from my father's line to continue. I had just come back from my first real quarter century of training. It was supposed to be a night ta remember."
The dwarf's tone seems to fluctuate from a more practiced, Talden dialect of speech to his more well known Dwarven one, but he doesn't seem to notice the change himself.
"They were all dead upon my 'rrival. I salvaged what I could from the homestead and I have been here since."
Taking his shield and normally carried weaponry, the dwarf heads looking for an armorer. He tries to remain somewhat in good spirits, knowing a new suit of armor could be just the thing.
When Asuriel opens the case, she finds a gold pendant in the shape of a sunburst. Within the burst is an angelic figure with silver robes and silver hair that dances as if it were flame, a beautiful rendition of Sarenrae. This work of art hangs from a fine gold and copper chain that glitters like fire. For the materials alone, it's easily worth 150 crowns, though with the craftsmanship, it's likely much more than that.
As you and Ameiko sit there quietly, a low, smooth voice half-whispers to both of you, "He's right, Ameiko. You're not alone and you don't have to face those fears by yourself."
Lou hops over the bench and sits on the other side of Ameiko, a bottle in his hand.
"Looks like you need this more than I do," he says as he passes the bottle of sake over to the owner of the Rusty Dragon. When she's not looking Lou gives a Horatio a knowing look and mouths "Don't worry. I won't tell Noro."
Right as Thrizin walks through the door, there's a crash and a curse from the backroom. Olivius is up front standing next to a counter that holds a very beautifully made crossbow.
"Be right with ya," Savah shouts from the back, "Gotta find where that bloody ransuer went!"
"Perhaps," Magnhildr says, [/b]"But tell me, would you like to get stronger?"[/b]
As you walk about looking for the others, you hear someone call your name from behind. A few seconds later, a small, blue-haired and behatted gnome runs into your legs sending both of you to the ground.
Sprig winces at the cacophony and looks to Olivius from Thirzin's shoulder.
"Is she okay?"
Noro sits for a bit wondering how to answer. Well, of courshe I would, but If I shaid no, I would sound like a chicken, And if I shay yesh, I shound like I am weak.
after a pause, I shound like an Assh, I want to get shtronger, but I don't want short cutsh.
Horatio nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of Lou's voice, immediately withdrawing his arms and keeping them to himself. "See? Words of wisdom. I'm usually right about such things," he chuckles weakly, patting Ameiko stiffly on the shoulder.
After a moment, he stands, gathers his pack and instruments, and stretches widely. "Well, I'll take my leave of you two now. I'm sure the others are waiting for me to march us off. Just... remember what I said, alright? There are some people in this world who are full of light and life, and it would be a shame for that to fade."
With a small smile and a short bow, he makes his way to the town gates, a tune on his lips and a heaviness in his heart,.
She glances up at the aasimar and shrugs one shoulder. “What did I tell you?”
Magnhildr gives Noro a very mischievous smile.
"Well, I guess you know what to do, then. Just be prepared. If you face the priestess of Lamashtu, you will be facing your nightmares," she tells you.
"The goblins are just going to be a warm-up. Be careful, Noro," Cade adds.
Ameiko smiles and nods her thanks to you as you leave. When you look back you see Lou holding Ameiko close, just letting his presence comfort her.
After a moment, Savah reappears with a wickedly sharp and well-made ranseur.
"'Ello! How may I help ya? Looking for something for the wee fey,"[b] she asks Thirzin before turning to Olivius, [b]"is this what yer looking for?"
"Possibly something for her and something for me. Need to be a bit better prepared for what's coming up."
Go ahead, tell her you can't accept it. She knows that. What she doesn't know is that you deserve this. The Dawnflower is pleased with the work that I've done and has seen fit to work through Maver. I shall wear it with pride.
Something subtle shifts in the oracle's demeanor as she stands a little taller and lifts her head up. Somewhere between pride and arrogance she tells her tiefling companion. "It is perfect. I shall display it along with her goodwill at every opportunity."
She slowly withdraws it from the case and slips it over her head. After fixing her hair she turns to Pavanna and asks, "How does it look?"
That brutally catty comment hangs in the air between them for a moment, and Pavanna blanches as she hears herself. She knows exactly why her mouth said such a thing without consulting her brain, of course. For a moment, Asuriel’s preening put Pavanna back in a room with a clutch of Wiscrani noble daughters, all smug and spoiled and oh-so-condescendingly-‘kind’ to the ‘unfortunate child’ in their midst, and the stomach-churning wave of resentment summoned by the association did the rest.
That doesn’t make it any less hurtful. Or unfair. For all her self-importance, Asuriel has done too much for Sandpoint and for Pavanna to deserve a dig like that, and she’s been trying her best to control her own conditioned responses to tieflings.
‘I will be temperate in my actions and moderate in my behavior. I will strive to emulate Iomedae’s perfection.’
‘True heroism is remarkably sober, very undramatic. It is not the urge to surpass all others at whatever cost, but the urge to serve others at whatever cost.’
Practice what you preach, Pavanna Alazario!
“Asuriel, I’m... I’m so terribly sorry,” she says, softly and sincerely, meeting the aasimar’s gaze steadily, ready to take the lumps she’s just earned for herself without complaint. “I shouldn’t have said that. You didn’t do or say anything to deserve a remark so hateful. The people I wanted to assail with words like that are long ago and far away, and I shouldn’t be taking a whip to you for their sins. If you feel like boxing my ears, I won’t stop you.”
The truth? Her belief is more likely. She just doesn't understand how important of a vessel I actually am. I am not some simple Sarenrite like. This is obviously beyond her, do I fault her for that?
Asuriel knew that others looked at her as a possessing little too much piety or righteousness, but they were simply mistaken is all. She had made much headway with the tiefling in recent time, almost forming the foundations of what you would call friendship. Was it worth throwing that all away over a slight such as this?
Asuriel blinked again, pondering. Best not to say something you will regret later.
A still blank face responds in a flat tone, "No, no problems at all Pavanna. I'm going to head back to the Dragon now. See you around."
Once her business with Olivius is done, she turns her attention to Thirzin.
"Well, my friend, What can I do fer ye?"
"I should be the one apologizing," she says with a chuckle, "I was the one that ran into you. Anyway, I guess you and the others haven't left yet, that's good."
"Need a bit better armor. This is getting chewed up and doesn't quite match up to me weapon." He motions to the Dwarven weapon wrapped about his waist.
Noro only seems to half believe them as they give their warnings. I'm shure i'll be alright. Now if you will excushe me.
Noro goes to make her way back to the Dragon. she walks slowly as she takes in the information she was given.
"You two have got to start looking where you're going," Horatio chuckles, stooping to pick up Saroune's rather dusty book. Brushing particles from the cover and blowing along the spine to clear it, he hands it back over, looking the two arcanists up and down. "So, did you change your mind?" he adds, grinning widely at Ping. "Because I'm sure we'd all miss your lively exuberance if you didn't."
Savah thinks for a moment before motioning for both Thirzin and Olivius to follow her. She leads the pair past a tangle of polearms that must have been the source of the racket from earlier and into a room with a few armor stands.
"These are special. I didnae make 'em, but I know the smith that did, and she's as fine as any I've known. Take a look and see what strikes your fancy."
While Thirzin looks over the armor, Savah motions for Sprig to come over to a table to be measured.
"I'm not even sure I have anything your size little one," she murmurs as she pulls out a length of string.
As you reach the Dragon, you see Ameiko and Lou walking back as well, Ameiko looks as if she'd been crying a little, and Lou's arm is wrapped around her shoulders.
Ping nods slowly at Horatio's question.
"Someone gave me some good advice as I was heading out of town," she says, "besides, we would I even go? Back to Whistledown," she laughs, "nope, I'm afraid you lot are stuck with me."
"So, when are we leaving?"
Pavanna opens her mouth to speak again... then stops to think and make sure she’s in control of herself. Thank you for the demonstration of grace, Asuriel. But you’re right: a little time apart for both of us to calm down certainly wouldn’t hurt.
“... I, uh, I’ll see you there, a little later. For now, I think I might head into the Cathedral. Perhaps some time in prayer and meditation will teach me not to aim random acts of b%@@&ery at the blameless,” the tiefling says, subdued and shame-faced. “For what’s it worth, I was right about Maver’s talents: the necklace is exquisite.”
With that, she takes a couple of backwards steps away from the aasimar, then turns away. Unconsciously falling into the square-shouldered marching stride she learned in training, she heads for Sandpoint’s new church, hoping to find Father Zantus.