"One also cant redeem someone if they have been ran through which is what every thing assosiated with this group seems to have tried to do to us so far."
Muchorak looks puzzled at Esteriande's remarks, more so he doesn't understand her speech, but he does understand Naria's, "You still think to redeem this evil?" He moves to the lumped masses that only moments ago attacked them, "They who would bring such devilry to even your home lands. The have forsaken everything unlike the people of this city. Yes they have forsaken much but at least they still attempt to cling to a life."
Romon tries to recall the names of sawmills in Magnimar and te one in Sandpoint.
"Could it mean the sawmill back in Sandpoint? Aldern must have had some reason for planting the body there. 'The Seven's Sawmill'. If these 'Brother's of the Seven' bought up Foxglove Manor, why not a silent interest in the sandpoint Sawmill?"
Know(local)
Romon also votes for a good dinner before anything else. "I really know this great place for Shoanti food. It'll be just like home for Muchorak."
|
"Memories of the sawmill are not stirring my appetite...", Marak says, reslinging his haversack over his shoulder, having pilfered some out of date travelogues and (to him, anyway) fascinating texts on the ramifications and repercussions of the death of Aroden.
He pauses to examine the bodies of these mysterious men, whose clothing is merely cleverly-disguised folds of skin, hoping to note anything unusual about them that might make them possible to identify if they are encountered again later, disguised as someone they would normally trust...
Faceless Stalkers or Ulgothols are an ancient evil related in some way to dopplegangers their origins are lost in the mists of time but stories of them have been around for hundreds of years.
Nomadic in nature, they move from community to community, using their change shape ability to masquerade as the target community’s dominant race and to pose as travelers, merchants, or pilgrims.
Once established, the gang of stalkers systematically murders the village, leaving the bodies for scavengers while they enjoy the settlement’s resources. Occupation by a gang of ugothols invariably leads to the settlement’s ruin, as the faceless stalkers squander stores and resources, and ruin structures left behind. Once a settlement has declined to the extent that even the ugothols find it useless, they move on to their next target.
THey are capable , it is said of assuming any man sized humanoid form and are almost impossible to detect in such a guise
Romon you recall a mill off that name on Kyver's Islet.This small island at the mouth of the Yondabakari river is given over almost completely to lumbermills, shipwrights, and noisy workshops best situated away from homes and quieter businesses. From the northernmost point of the islet rises the Floodfire, a small lighthouse that warns ships away from the shallow waters and half-submerged sandbars of the river
"You still think to redeem this evil? They who would bring such devilry to even your home lands. The have forsaken everything unlike the people of this city. Yes they have forsaken much but at least they still attempt to cling to a life."
"At ze time at which you began to turn the first into fillet mignon, zey were to our senses still men, and men can be redeemed. Zese creatures' deaths' I do not regret - it is clear now zat zey were assassins - but let us not risk slaying ze innocent."
Muchoraks face shows obvious signs of confusion; it's evident he still has a problem understanding Esteriandes accent, "I will gladly give unto those what had been done to my people."
The large man sighs, "If those that came armored had the visions you speak of perhaps things would not be as they are and my people would not have suffered. Innocents would not have died. But they did and in parts my people still suffer."
"For which you 'ave my compassion," Esteriande lays her hand on Muchorak's shoulder. "'Owever, two evils do not make a good; ze path of retribution is easy, ze path of virtue is 'arder, mon ami, but let us do zat which is good, not zat which, convenience, 'atred an' pain urges us to do, non?" Esteriande has no idea how unintelligible she is to the tribesman.
"I offer no love for the devil." Muchorak pauses recalling their current situation, "We should go now."
"Muchorak's right. We could all use something to eat. But before we go we should clean this place up a bit. Maybe dump the bodies in the cellar. If the shape-changers have friends it wouldn't be auspicious to have them walk in on this all flagrante morte." "We could leave the animals here. Then we'd know if anyone came while we were away and we'd draw less attention in the streets."
"I've been thinking. I might know where a Seven's mill is, but my memory is a little foggy. We can grab a bite to eat on the way."
If the party is amenable:
Romon will lead them to a little dive in the lower class neighborhood of Lowcleft. On the way he guides the party past the base of the Arvensoar, saying with a slight sneer, "Home to Magnimar's finest." From the base the tower clings to the cliff that divides Magnimar until it breaks free at the top and reaches skyward.
The dive is the Moon's Spears. The proprietors are an old Shoanti couple from the Moon Clan. The house specialty is spiced bits of meat roasted on skewers. They also feature fermented milk which Romon avoids. "It's good when you drink it but watch out the next morning."
"I offer no love for the devil."
"Nor do I," Esteriande agrees, "but I offer it to men. Ze worst mistake to make is to assume ze man is ze devil."
"Muchorak's right. We could all use something to eat. But before we go we should clean this place up a bit. Maybe dump the bodies in the cellar. If the shape-changers have friends it wouldn't be auspicious to have them walk in on this all flagrante morte."
"We could leave the animals here. Then we'd know if anyone came while we were away and we'd draw less attention in the streets."
"I've been thinking. I might know where a Seven's mill is, but my memory is a little foggy. We can grab a bite to eat on the way."
"Agreed - we can even use zis 'ouse as a base of operations, it is per'aps not a place our foes would suspect."
Esteriande takes to the Moon's Spears immediately, clearly appreciating the cuisine.
Having been a bit bored, as usual, while her friends talked and talked ('So talky talky these two-leg friends of mine!' Ali picks up noticeably at the mention of going to eat.
Remembering to switch to Gnome form just before entering. Once inside the vegetation wild druid avoids the specialty, instead picking through for things she can eat which never had parents. Lunas though eagerly wolfs down both his and his den-sister's share of the tasty meat.
As you come towards the end of your meal the door of the eating place opens and two large and ugly looking men step in and take position either side of the doorway..they are followed by a slightly built, better dressed, but no less pockmarked and unprepossesing individual who scans the tables before fixing a beady gaze on your group. He make his way over to you the bruisers shadowing his moves..
"Romon 'awkridge?" the weasly man inquires "Don't try and deny it, we all know who you are.The Princess wants to see you chummy.Toot Sweet..or she'll be in a right two an eight and you wouldn't want that would yer"
Esteriande casts a curious glance at the newcomer , summing him up but keeping her façade polite and courteous.
"I beg your pardon, Monsieur, but our friend," she emphasises the word, "'ere is on urgent business with ourselves zis evening. I am sure 'e will be 'appy to settle matters wiz your 'princess' at a ... more convenient time. Please convey to 'er our profuse apologies and regrets at ze delay. In ze meantime, why do you not take a seat and enjoy ze 'ospitality - at our expence, naturellement."
Diplomacy:
"Princess?" Naria mouths the word to everyone else seeing if any of them have any idea what the man is talking about.
Ali does not like these men and the way the ask to take away her sneaky friend. Growing slightly, Lunas joining her, she sniffs lightly at the air, trying to smell the the nature of their soul.
Esteriande and Ali
"You must be new in town Sweetheart" the weasly man replies to Esteriande "otherwise you'd know that the Princess don't wait for no-one"
"So what's it to be 'Awkridge do I take you to 'er..or do I tell 'er that you are ..otherwise engaged"
DC 12 Know: Local(auto for Romon)
bazaar’s regular traders and her “court”—a sizable gang of toughs and money collectors.
A passionate woman in her late forties, her quick wit, aristocratic bearing, and silver tongue are as famed as her fiery temper and unforgiving memory. While many in the city still see her as little more than an exceedingly public gang lord, those who frequent the chaotic maze of stalls and shops know the service she provides.
Romon sizes up the two men and desperately runs through the aliases he's used over the years. Sometimes it occurs to me that having only one name could be a convenience. Coming up dry, he settles for stalling.
He puts on his best lower upper class manner. "Gentlemen, you have me at a disadvantage. I'm not this Hawkridge, but an audience with the Princess is not to be scoffed at. I tried to win one myself a few years ago over the matter of something valuable of mine that was taken from me.
"Please, sit as my friend suggests and eat with us. When we've finished, and I assure you it won't take long, we shall happily accompany you to see her highness. Perhaps I can bring up my old business."
If they sit Romon will order them whatever they like and make sure they have some of the fermented milk.
Diplomacy:
The Weasly man declines the offer off the meal
"Well you just eat up then..she'd be upset if we didn't let you finish..and then you can bring your bit off stuff there.." he leers at Esteriande "..and your other mates along if you want them to 'old your hand. Don't worry mate herself isn't mad at yer..not yet anyhow""
Muchorak welcomes the smells of the Moon's Spears, not home but still a close enough memory, he honors the owners with speaking in his native tongue...
The Shoanti eyes this foul man and his 'escorts'; and yet after his last remarks he finds it hard to contain his annoyance...
"Más rud é nach raibh sé do na ballaí a bheadh an fear seo agus a puipéid a bheith marbh le haghaidh iompar den sórt sin dímheasúil. Ní amháin diúltú do thairiscint Kindness mura ciallaíonn bás amháin a thabhairt."
"If it were not for these walls this man and his puppets would be dead for such disrespectful behavior. One does not refuse an offer of kindness unless one means to bring death."
Esteriande smiles pleasantly back, listening to Romon's reply.
"I 'ave 'eard of zis 'princess' - it should be an interesting meeting."
The Weasly man declines the offer off the meal
"Well you just eat up then..she'd be upset if we didn't let you finish..and then you can bring your bit off stuff there.." he leers at Esteriande "..and your other mates along if you want them to 'old your hand. Don't worry mate herself isn't mad at yer..not yet anyhow"
Romon doesn't understand a word Muchorak says, but the Shoatni's manner is clear enough. "Peace, Muchorak. This is a nice invitation. If it weren't someone would be wearing the latest in three foot long steel piercings."
Romon turns back to the weasel. "You had my first name right. It is Romon. What is yours, my good man?"
Romon will follow up with elliptical questions on how they came to the princess' attention and the state of business in the market.
When everyone's ready to go Romon will take care of the bill with a nice tip.
"You can call me Mr Smith" the weasel featured messenger replies.
"Dunno..all I know is that she want's to see yer..something about yer mate Cearnis"
"Business is good, why wouldn't it be?"
It's fairly obvious that this guy is an expert at keeping his mouth shut.
Romon
Esteriande studies the messenger as we conclude the meal, content that there is no immediate hostility to defuse.
Sense Motive:
"You can call me Mr Smith" the weasel featured messenger replies.
"Dunno..all I know is that she want's to see yer..something about yer mate Cearnis"
"Business is good, why wouldn't it be?"
It's fairly obvious that this guy is an expert at keeping his mouth shut.
Romon looks up sharply at the mention of Cearnis. "I think I'm full. Everyone else ready?"
If no-one has any objections?
You leave Lowcleft and make your way along a wide boulevard towards the shore..as you enter the famed Bazzar of Sails the air becomes pungent with the smell of a hundred spices..and a thousand unwashed persons of varying race and species.Thankfully the spices tend to win.Here in the largest Market in all Varisia you can buy anything thqt is legal..and a good deal that isn't.
Voices cry out to you in a dozen or more accents importuning you to buy their wares ranging from fine silks of Tian to exotic beasts to simple foodstuffs..it would seem the whole world is here.
Still walking on two legs, Ali gapes in awe and not a little fear at the overabundance of overwhelming sites, sounds and especially smells which bombard her. Unconsciously crowding close to Big Bear, she makes it difficult for him to walk properly. As well she puts her hand in Lunas ruff, keeping him nearby as well.
To no one in particular she says softly "What is the magic of this place! That they should gather all the people and all the things of the world together in one place?! Ali did not know there was this many people and things in all of the world!"
For his part, while similarly overwhelmed, Lunas takes things much more in stride, his wolfish stoicism serving him well.
Romon offer Esteriande his arm swaggers out in front of the party. He is nearly skipping as he breathes in the bustle, the smells, the energy. He's out with his troops in his town, and life is very very good. If I could just talk them into staying here, we could own Magnimar. What a time we could have.
He knows where the sore spots in that plan will be. Along the way he points out to Muchorak two different weapon smiths, "Good quality stuff there and they're not even the best in the city." For Ali it's a small park. "There's a dozen little places like this and some beautiful gardens. We'll go tomorrow."
At a flower vendor he buys blossoms for the ladies, a rare live orchid all pink and blue for Ali, daffodils for Naria, pink roses for Esteriande.
These "acquaintances" of Romon worry me more than the shape-shifters and walking dead. At least they were overt. Our fellow men can be more subtle and fighting them might require more than steel.
Inikai points to a stall selling horses and says to Muchorak in Shoanti:
"What is the magic of this place! That they should gather all the people and all the things of the world together in one place?! Ali did not know there was this many people and things in all of the world!"
"It ees ze magic called 'commerce' mon petite loup-garou," Esteriande smiles. "It appears bedlam, non? But in truth all is ordered. See?" She indicates one of the smiths that Romon points out. "Ze smith is most skilled at making ze tools to 'unt and farm, yet 'e may be a poor 'unter or farmer 'imself. With commerce, 'e exchanges ze best tools for ze food 'e needs. Zat is 'ow ze city works, and becomes more zan ze sum of ze parts. If every man 'as to make 'is own tools, do every craft, 'e may do one well, but many badly. Take a group of men, one 'oo makes good tools, anozer zat may farm well, anozer gifted at carpentry, anozer at building 'ouses, and with commerce, ze society can 'ave ze best 'ouses, ze best tools, ze best food. Zis is ze magic of ze city, and why zere are many cities in ze world."
Esteriande accepts the roses with a gracious smile at Romon.
"Merci, mon ami, zey are most delightful. You are clearly a connoisseur of beautiful things zat delight ze senses when you wish."
|
|
Surrounded by merchants hawking their wears, a bolt of embroidered cloth catches his eye and Marak speaks up, "Speaking of commerce, now might be a perfect opportunity to pick up any raw materials if anyone wishes for me to provide them a warding cloak or similar enchanted item, such as a headband or belt to enhance wit and insight or physical might."
"There's obviously a much better selection here than in Sandpoint. We could even coordinate our colors or display some sort of shared insignia or heraldry, if anyone is of a mind to do so."
...
Esteriande accepts the roses with a gracious smile at Romon.
"Merci, mon ami, zey are most delightful. You are clearly a connoisseur of beautiful things zat delight ze senses when you wish."
Romon smiles back. Oh yes I am. "They're nothing compared to the delight you -- " he pauses wondering how hard to push his hand --"give us all. They are a pale reflection of the perfection of all you ladies." He magnanimously expands his compliment to include Naria and Ali.
Khalib avatar
Surrounded by merchants hawking their wears, a bolt of embroidered cloth catches his eye and Marak speaks up, "Speaking of commerce, now might be a perfect opportunity to pick up any raw materials if anyone wishes for me to provide them a warding cloak or similar enchanted item, such as a headband or belt to enhance wit and insight or physical might."
"There's obviously a much better selection here than in Sandpoint. We could even coordinate our colors or display some sort of shared insignia or heraldry, if anyone is of a mind to do so."
The idea of colors instantly appeals to Romon, "That's a great idea! Then people would know we were all part of our gan -- fellowship. Maybe something with wolves or bears? Or a dragon! In black, black cloaks. Or with the seven pointed star stylized into a flower."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Having begun, just barely, to understand the concept of commerce, if not the reason, Ali watches quizzically as Roman purchases the flowers. She accepts the gift with a large and genuine smile, clearly delighted both by the action and the fact that she can hold them to her nose, blocking out the other overwhelming smells. But with wide eyed innocence she asks him "Sneaky man, Ali no understand. Why you need give shiny yellow rocks...this be 'buy', yes yes? For beautiful flowers land gives for free?"
Then after, as Esteriande attempts to explain the market in more detail Ali simply stares at the pretty woman. Between the accent and the unfamiliar words and concepts the small Gnome is lucky if she understands one word in ten. She nods her head politely although her incomprehension is clear on her face. Smiling to show her gratitude despite her lack of understanding she asks innocently once again "But, but, Ali no understand this- When all people in world is here now, does that mean all rest of world is empty?" as she marvels at the possibility of such a thing.
Your'escorts' don't seem particularly fazed by the presence of Lunas and Ursas..but then they have probably seen everything
daffodils for Naria,
"Oh um er uh thank you" Naria stutters out upon receiving the flowers going slightly red faced. One gets the impression she isn't used to receiving gifts like that.
"They're nothing compared to the delight you ... give us all. They are a pale reflection of the perfection of all you ladies."
"Why, Monsieur Romon, you are proving quite ze poet," Esteriande laughs, "it seems your reputation in Sandpoint was indeed undeserved," she chuckles as if pleasantly surprised.
"But, but, Ali no understand this- When all people in world is here now, does that mean all rest of world is empty?"
"Non, Ali, ze rest of ze world is not empty, zis is only one bazaar - everyone 'ere belongs 'ere. Zere are many cities in ze world, and many markets in zem all. Ze world, it ees a verry grande place."
Not unfamiliar with bizarre’s and the crowded streets; the Shoanti stands tall as if he was the beacon of his tribe his companion next to him. He nods at Inikais comment but keeps his eyes on the crowd. He rests one hand on his coin purse to prevent thievery.
The market bustled with activity, traders from far lands gathered amongst the various Shoanti tribes hawking their wares. Some brought cloth, weapons, jewels and magical trinkets. Most experienced traders enjoyed the Shoanti bizarre, at least those that understood their laws; this wasn’t his first experience with the market; just his first as the party lead for the event. He led his small group around looking for what they came for; the Shoanti people didn’t need much but this trip was special they had been sent by their shaman. She needed something in particular. He found the booth and also found the vendor waiting for them. The business was concluded with ease and the group began its journey out of the bizarre. Muchorak had some younger members of the tribe with him and took them for a short tour, taking them past some foreign food vendors and some of the more exotic merchandise.
Suddenly he felt the hand on his waist line then saw the boy run with his coin purse. The boy was no tribal member but it didn’t matter these visitors were in their lands now and held to the Shoanti law. He drew his bow in a moment, notched the arrow, and let it loose. The boy stopped, an arrow in his back, and fell to the ground dead. Muchorak walked over to him and recovered his coin purse and arrow. No one looked at him with disgust or revulsion; save for the expressions of shock from those new to these lands. The tribal members paused at the commotion then continued about their business, they knew that thievery was not tolerated, and they knew Muchorak was within his rights as a victim of the crime.
The memory washed through the large mans mind and he wondered if these lands held the same laws for thievery. He knew these civilized people were different in their views and new that poverty was caused by them; at least how he viewed it. Thinking again on his memory and knowing the difference in his culture and theirs, “Romon?” once his roguish companion offers his attention the Shoanti continues, “What is the law in this land of thievery?”
DC15 perception
On the edge of the bazarre a large and almost palatial tent has been set up your escorts seem to be leading you in that direction.
Perception
Perception Wellard:
Thinking again on his memory and knowing the difference in his culture and theirs, “Romon?” once his roguish companion offers his attention the Shoanti continues, “What is the law in this land of thievery?”
"Don't get caught," Romon replies automatically. Then the implications behind Muchorak's question filter through. Did Muchorak think the city peopled entirely by thieves? Could he be that simple? Or was he worried that he might be a mark? Or...
Romon laughs to cover his initial response and settles on a serious answer. "Of course thievery is not allowed, but it's for the Watch and Justices to keep the law. And Hellknights. They keep the law too."
Hellknights, the name conjures images in his mind, images of civilized men in dark metal armor; men who slaughtered the helpless, defenseless, and pushed his people back. He knew many stories of these vile men; these men of murder, rape, and evil. They were evil defined in his mind; as it was taught to him.
“Hellknights?” The word leaves his mouth with disdain and disgust, do these people truly let such villainy walk amongst them unchallenged?
"Non, Ali, ze rest of ze world is not empty, zis is only one bazaar - everyone 'ere belongs 'ere. Zere are many cities in ze world, and many markets in zem all. Ze world, it ees a verry grande place."
The wild druid's jaw drops open and the look she gives Esteriande is a combination of both disbelief and incredulity at her claim that there are many such places as this. Even if Ali added up all the two legs she had ever seen in her life before, it would not come even close to the amount of people she saw now. And pretty lady was saying that this amazing amount of people around her was only a small part of all the two legs in the world?? Ali simply could now conceive of such a number. But she did not think her pretty lady friend would lie to her so....
Closing her mouth and huddling close to her pack leader and her den-brother the young girl begins to consider, for the first time in her life, what impact one so small as she could possibly have on such an unimaginably big world.
Romon feels a swell of affection for the Shoanti.
"Yeah. I don't like it any better than you, brother. Take it up with the Mayor."
|
|
Marak notices that Ali seems a bit intimidated by the sheer number of people around, and says to her in a low voice, "Just remember, Alisebett, that all these people are clustered here in the city because they lack the skill necessary to live in the much larger world beyond its walls, where people like you and Muchorak walk without fear."
"Lunas is wiser in the ways of surviving in the world outside of these walls than many you see here. They do not see it as such, but this city is a cage, that they cannot easily escape."
A line of people are waiting outside the tent but your guide leads you straight past them and past the wwell armed guards at the door..no one asks you to hand over weapons but you get the impression that you aren't really considered a threat....
Inside you pass through a couple of what for want of a better word can be described as rooms until you are cnducted into the presence of the 'Princess of the Market'..a slightly overweight redheaded woman of Varisian extraction somewhat past her prime but still exuding an aura of sensuality..in her younger years she must have been truly stunning. She sits on a throne like chair and waves away the sychophants surrounding her
Mr 'Smith' bows low.."The man Romon M'lady..and his..confederates."
"Ah Mr Hawkridge" she says in a voice which is almost a purr "..or should that be Mr Scoliolo, how kind off you to answer my summons so quickly..please..introduce me to your companions"
“Hellknights?”
"Some fools zink zat obedience to order is all it requires to make a society, and zat emulating ze lords of 'Ell will achieve zis," Esteriande's lips curl with disgust. "What zey really desire is not society, merely money and power for zemselves. I 'ave no time for such," Esteriande makes a dismissive gesture before we enter the palatial tent.
"Ah Mr Hawkridge ... or should that be Mr Scoliolo, how kind off you to answer my summons so quickly ... please ... introduce me to your companions."
Esteriande assesses the woman we face.
Perception:
Sense Motive:
Muchorak stays silent at the slobs words, though his mind wanders...how sad it is for these so called 'civilized' people. They have forgotten their strengths and caved in to weakness. And this is what rules them, a slob, someone of former glory now slowed by lethargy. The warrior looks upon this woman imagining what she may have been in her younger years. A woman to lead men perhaps, but was it with strength or with guile?
Esteriande