I look to the old man and then at Ragnvald covered in blood across the way: I will ask at the Desnan Temple in Magnimar. I will make sure that the Ulfen is not involved in seeking out a new priest for you good people.
Y...yes... the old man hesitates, sighs and explains He sacrificed on one of the last Founder's Festivals...but...but we still have the money here! the man quickly adds.
Since you all just look at the man without saying anything, he quickly gestures to the other villagers tto get the money. Only moments later, a large sack, full of jingling coins lies at your feet.
These are the taxes for more than 70 years!
I reach out and take the sack of coins.
Thank you. And while we do not speak for the government of Varisia, we will speak with our employer so that this now good town receives the benefits of being part of this great land.
If the taxman was sacrificed, what became of his goods? The person who hired us will want some proof that we discovered his whereabouts, or demise as the case may be. Otherwise they may suspect that we just knocked off a merchant train or found some deserted dungeon and quit before we got here.
"All that an he was dead anyway? Erm. Suppose we have the money, so who'd hand over a pile of gold if they didn't find him?"
I look back at Attalas: Well, are you a thief? Or a good warrior. If we want treasure, we can always find gnolls or barbarians or devils to kill. They all have lots of loot. If we took this money, we would be stealing from both this good town and the Varisian government. Do you want the tax enforcers to be following us. I an sure we could beat most of them, but do you want to be looking over your big shoulders all the time to see what assassin is following us?
"Nah Im sayin if we go back with the five hundred golds then isn't that proof we found the Taxman?
Belongings? Oh yes!
the old man seems relieved that he is able to do something...something that might soothe your temper. he gestures again and soon a horned helmet, a chainmail, a large axe, a beer keg and some very interesting depictions of women from Riddleport are brought forth.
That's all he had, I think.
I look at the items and listen to Attalas.
Turning to Attalas. It might be proof we collected the taxes, but not that we found the taxman.
When the equipment is brought.
This is proof. I look at the pictures. Not a very good judge of women from my point of view. Surprised he did not die of some strange disease, or angered husband.
I thank the man. Is there anything else we can do to help you all before we leave? I think you all have a lot of thinking and talking to do once we are gone as your town leaders have sort of been proven to not be the type of person you want to lead your town. Looking over at the dead bug-mayor. Especially that one.
If nobody else has anything to say, I, as the smallest person in the group other than Mobo, gather the equipment, strap it to my pack, and prepare to head out.
W...what if such a man...bug...returns? The mayor's forefathers have been good and just men before the dark one came to our village.
there's whispering from withing the huts and the people standing in the open quickly draw the wings of Desna over their hearts.
I will speak with the temple of Desna in Magnimar. I am sure that they will send a priest to care for their flock. It is apparent that this village was in the good graces of Desna before this dark one arrived. I am sure that she will take you back now that the dark one has been eliminated.
The Dark One...so he was referred to in the temple chronicles before they were lost when the temple burnt down...he surely is not eliminated, he only planted the seed of evil in the hearts of the Kriegler family. But you're right, let's hope that he is long dead.
Ragnvald looks up and scowls. "Do not hope. Fight. With your hearts and your rage. This darkness won because you let it/ This time your goddess has smiled upon you for you have nothing I want to take and no warriors I would test my steel upon. But next time, when Gorum walks his blood drenched path through your village again ynot even the innocent will be spared. So you must fight."
The old and several other villagers nod We will dream and fight! he says before you depart.
After a week of weary travelling, the white spires of the City of Monuments rise before you. Behind it the glittering surface of the sea lies and the sound sof the industrious city already reaches your ears...
No more horror please. Ragnvald needs true warriors to test himself upon. We turn every horror module into a bad comedy where the irony is that we're the monsters.
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We turn every horror module into a bad comedy where the irony is that we're the monsters.
The guards still eye you vigilantly as you enter Magnimar, but it gets even more annyoing once you are inside the city walls. Passersby openly stare at you, children gawp and a small band of guards is only one street corner away...always.
Jeminda however does not care about your looks and as you reach her house, the mousey woman looks expectantly at you
Where is he? she asks and adds and where are the taxes? then it dawns on her that that was probably rude Oh and how are you?
Attalas looks to the others to do the talking. By way of being polite he gives his best big goofy looking grin trying to appear friendly.
We are fine, unfortunately I cannot say the same for your cousin. Seems some cult to some dark god had taken over the town. They have now been eliminated. Unfortunately, your cousin was a sacrifice before we got there. We did recover his helmet and other things. And the unpaid taxes, for many years.
Jez pulls out the bag of tax money and the helmet and other stuff from the village.
Well, don't worry, he wasn't my cousin, just my brother in law. then the word "sacrifice" seems to reach her brain w...what? Sacrificed, by whom? His task was only to travel to Ravenmoor?! but quickly the jingling coins ask for her attention Ah great stuff, the taxes! The magistrate was already getting nervous, heh. Jeminda presses the bag against her breast like a baby I'm so glad that I hired you, phew. Oh, you can give his belongings to me, I'll give them to my sister...one question, did he fight bravely against this sacrificers?
"Dunno. But we smashed em up good". The Ogre seems rather pleased with himself.
Nymeria walks along with the group, wondering what her mother would think of her now, off on dangerous adventures with strange-looking folk...
I'm so sorry for your loss Miss Jeminda...Ravenmoor was a strange place gripped by superstition and violence, and I hope at least returning your...brother in law's things will bring you some peace. She says consolingly.
Ragnvald can't help but crack a smile at the goblins comment. "HE was sacrificed in the name of soem misshapen god. We wrote it off as a loss until the cult decided to attempt to sacrifice one of our own. This cult now no longer exists."
Yeah, so nice that you brought his things, actually, my sister has found a new husband anyway and since he was a violent drunkard, I think our family will survive the loss, ahem. the cheerful cold that is so typical for Jeminda can't surprise you anymore, still, she's a strange person...
Jez looks at Mobo rather quizzically.
Why waste perfectly good fire cooking the food?
Only about three doors further down the street you find a tavern from which the smell of roasts and the sounds of many drunken people waft over to your ear. The "Revolutionary resort of the most revolutionary revolutionist" is an obviously Galt-friendly mix of an inn and debate club. Today it's rather an inn since the whole crew of one of Magnimar's large man-o-wars has occupied the place.
Two bartenders and three serving wenches are hardly able to serve all customers and the catcalls become angrier and angrier the closer you get - silence falls over the tavern as soon as you enter. The sailors just stare at you and as one of them topples his tankard off the table it sounds like a thunderclap...
Ragnvald smiles broadly. He was going to like this place. He strides through the shocked faces and angry cat calls to the bar where he simply orders an ale.
Jez smiles already liking this place.
Evening gentlemen, don't mind us. Oh, and if anyone thinks that starting a brawl would be fun, remember, the ogre and goblin are the least dangerous among us, at least they have learned not start the fight.
Diplomacy:
Intimidate:
--> Hmm, not as frightening as usual.