When Dalton mentioned the name Kyle, she was surprised. She would have held that detail back, especially in front of a child. Then again she had no real problem with it as long as they didn't bring Armand into play. She really wanted to know on which side folks were on before they used this bit of information.
She did not find the fact that they were searching for Kyle that problematic. If they had anything to do with Armand's death they would know that she knows that he was murdered and under which circumstances. Armand's was left at his own place, anyone would look there first. With Kyle it was a different matter. They did not know anything about his fate and had no reason to assume otherwise, which would consequently put them into the position to present them with any lie they wanted to.
The crux of the matter was: If they did not have anything to do with Armand's death and Kriegler did in fact try to help him, asking them directly would be the best course of action and spying on them only weaken her position and delay her investigation.
She did not interfere with the discussion, but her ears twitched curiously what as she wondered what the boy would answer. But even if he had seen him, he did not necessarily know his name.
Kyle was not her business, even though she would certainly help the others find him. How they went about it was for them to decide.
After a brief moment of barely-contained gasps and held breath after the spilling of Elias Kyle's name, Ornigaard clicks his tongue and says: "Nope. But it'd be fun if y'all came to the Festival fer sure. 'Specially if y'all can sing! I never heard a elf sing before. I bet it's pretty. An' don't worry, Miss Elf Lady, I ain't hurt none." He bites his lip for a moment and blushes, reflecting on Calwen's claims of his "knightly" behavior. "Anyway, if y'all wanna talk to somebody bout anythin', y'all should talk to my pa. He knows everything." He reluctantly starts to walk back toward the trail. "Y'all can follow me if y'want. Gotta take the ferry over 'cross the river, less y'wanna get ate up by the water-wolf on the way over. It ain't far across, but it's deeper than it looks."
He pats Applesauce on the head. "Didn' think I'd make new friends today! Good goin' Applesauce!"
"Sure kid. I'll tag along. What's this water wolf look like? That sounds interestin and the guys you said had painted faces, do you mean like masks or a clown?"
"Oh, did you awnser about the food?"
The monk, blushing slightly, pulls up his traveling hood and remains silent as they enter Ravenmoor. You've put your foot in it again, Dalton, he thinks to himself.
Calwen raises an eyebrow. "Is that ferry big enough for Windmane, my horse?"
The river was bad for her mobility with Windmane, but it was an advantage for Dio. Depending on whatever that water wolf was, anyway.
"The water-wolf? Oh, I dunno. I never seen it. Mr. Skender who runs the ferry's always tellin' people 'bout it, though. I think he said it looks like a shark with a wolf's head, or somethin'." He looks up at Marsh and grins. "Anyway, about the food? Yeah, there gon' be lots'a food there, but you don' wanna get too full 'cause the Feast's later, at dinnertime. They save all the best stuff fer last. An' that's when the crownin' of the Queen is, anyhow. But you can get some good sausages an' such, and you don't even hafta pay for 'em. An' the face-painted people I was talkin' 'bout were jus' the sho-wanties. Y'know, them tribal folks? I don't reckon none'a them are clowns. Not that I seen, anyway."
To Calwen, he continues: "I seen Mr. Skender cart horses back an' forth 'cross the river before. He might charge extra, though. He'll always find some reason to charge extra, even if yer from Ravenmoor. Mr. Skender's kinda greedy like that. But don't tell 'im I said that, 'cause I don't wanna get leck-sherred."
The trail ahead bends once more, and as you all come around the treeline, you can see the Lampblack River again. Two ramshackle structures flank either side of the shore, sheds to hide a small, flat-bottomed ferry. Tightly-drawn ropes cross the river, part of a cranked pully system that draws the barge across the black, mucky water. A trio of ravens perch on the roof of the shack on your side of the river, and one of them caws as you approach.
"You find that runaway bug'a yers, boy?" a drawling old voice shouts from inside the shack. A moment later, an old man with cracked, leathery skin, hair so thin that his scalp is plainly visible from every angle, and a crooked back makes his way out of the structure to greet Ornigaard. The grin on his face falls for a moment at the sight of you all behind the boy- and then twists up into an even bigger smile. "An' look at you- you brought me some business! Atta boy, Orni! Maybe I won't tell yer pop you been playin' on the other side'a the river, after all."
"Aw, you weren't gonna tell on me, anyhow," Ornigaard says, and steps aside as the old man approaches you.
One of the ferryman's eyebrows cocks as he examines each of you. His eyes hang on both Warshawski and Calwen a bit longer than anyone might like, before finally settling on the young river drake. "Even in the wildest fant'sies the Dream Tender done brought me in my long life, I ain't never seen a crew as motley as all this," he croaks. "Y'all got business in Ravenmoor? Y'all look like city folk." He then gestures to Calwen and Dalton with a dismissive wave of his hand. "An' I don't have a half a clue what y'all look like, other'n trouble. Y'all ain't come to give us folk a hard time on this special day of ours, are ya? 'Cause I ain't of a mind to let y'all aboard if'n you're lookin' fer trouble here. I'd rather let y'all take a swim with the Wolf o' the Waters, if that's the case."
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Bacarov chuckles at the man's observations, seeking a tone of agreement. "I don't think I believe it myself, and I'm part of this motley band. But what I do know is we're definitely not visiting your fair township with trouble on the mind." Bacarov knuckles his brow and bows slightly. "I'm Sebastian Bacarov, part of the Magnimar Watch. This is Officers Warshawski, Marsh and Jodare." He then gestures to the last four. "These are Mistress Calwen and Master Dalton, and their animal companions. Field guides for our little outing to visit Ravenmoor. Just part of a field assignment from Magnimar to check in with the Honorable Mayor Kreigler."
"From what Master Onri says, you're a capable ferryman and can see us safely across the Lampblack. Even in time to partake in Ravenmoor's famous festival."
》 (+5 to intercept secret messages)
》
"I for one plan on wrecking havoc on some food. I have heard about your festival up here a few times. Finally made it up here to see it for myself. Sounds like its gonna be a good time."
"Not to mention we brought some coin to spend . . . so hopefully we can be allowed to cross to spend some of it."
"We met Orin here along the trail lookin for his pet. He told us about the River Wolf. Sounds like a local legend to keep kids away from crumbling banks. Heh heh heh, or is there actually more too it? The farther you get out of town the more true myths start to become."
"I would assume it to be merely an expression," Dalton offers, adding "I assure you, my business in Ravenmoor is not to cause trouble." to reassure the ferryman.
Calwen nodded with a friendly smile to Skender as Sebastian introduced her. Her first impression of him was not exactly the best, but what worried her more was that feeling that all that seeming normality was but a masquerade. And so was her smile.
"Good man.", she greeted him. She knew his name, but since he did not introduce himself she did not want to surprise him with that. "It seems like it might be a wonderful night for songs and dreams under the Starsong." She stood upright, but did not return his look all too defiantly, but tried to act noble, but coy for now. Her voice carried a bit more elven accent than usual. If he had noticed that she was outstandingly well armed for a mere guide he did not let show so far, maybe it was a good thing that he overlooked the warrior while staring at the woman.
"City folk indeed," Skender says. "We don't get many folks from Magnimar up this way. But if'n yer lookin' to throw some'a that gold our way, I ain't gonna be the one to turn y'away. It's a silver piece a'head, one gold fer yer horse... two gold fer yer monster. I seen a river drake before, but this'n seems a little sweeter than the rest of its ilk. I'd keep 'im outta the water round these parts, though. Y'all doubt the Wolf o' the Water's real? Lemme show y'all somethin'."
He leads you into the shack and points to a strangely-shaped animal skull hanging on the wall. "That there's one'a the Wolf's spawn," he says. "Ol' Abner Dagwood shot it full'a arrows an' kilt it twenty years ago. The Wolf don't entertain nobody to swim in its waters. 'Specially misbehavin' children- he eats 'em up, guts an' all." He shoots a mock scowl at Ornigaard, who chuckles and hops onto the barge with Applesauce in tow.
"Skender Cardzi's the name," the old man says, extending a gnarled hand to shake each of yours. "Lookin' forward t'seein' y'all at the Festival later. Hope you came hungry- you'll be wantin' snacks before, an' then there's the Feast. Good eatin' fer all, less'n yer a vegetarian." He shoots a glance at Calwen, obviously under the impression that all elves are. That glance turns once more into a stare, but he manages to unglue his eyes from Calwen after a moment. "Anyhoo, I'll take payment up front. It'll be a tight squeeze, what with yer animals, so y'all don't get too excited or you'll fall right overboard, an' I ain't friendly enough to jump in after ya."
Once everyone has boarded the ferry, he asks: "So... y'all got business with Andretti, eh? Hope it ain't bad news. Don't think the poor fella can take much of a shock, his health bein' what it is."
"Nice'ta meetcha Skender. I will definitely show up hungry and I love me some meat."
"I'll pay for a ride across---wouldn't want to end up like a cow's cud in the River Wolf's jaws! Heh heh heh. Sounds like he likes meat too."
"Does Andretti have an illness? Or is it just age related?"
I was content to let the others do the talking. Someone had to keep their jaws closed and their eyes open. I watched. The river. The shore. The man and his boat. I watched everything. At least two people were missing because of this town. We couldn't let our guard down.
Dramin sighs when the man mentions gold and silver.
Its a good thing some of us have sense around these parts.
He rolls his eyes over to Warshawski and Bacarov. I may be young but I am a realist at the very least.
When Skender points to the head on the mount, Dramin just looks.
Really? He withholds a chuckle and gives Marsh a glance with a small glint in it, his mouth curving very slightly before dropping back deadpan in the background. It got him thinking though, could such a creature actually exist?
It was possible in a sense. This world was filled with many strange creatures. He internally shrugs and decides to take some time to conceal his component pouch while the ferryman does business. Might as well do this whole guard thing right I guess. Makes for an interesting challenge to say the least.
A few minutes later and he's doubling back on the stance.
It was dull.
"Oh, Andretti ain't but in his thirties. Last year or two his health's been poor; he's lost weight, an' sometimes we catch 'im coughin'. His brother's gotten a lot more protective of 'im, lately, an' it ain't like Leonard's ever strayed too far from his big brother's side in the first place. I worry for 'im; he does so much for this town, I'd hate to think he's not got long for this world." He looks for a moment as if he has more to say, but after glancing at Warshawski, he bites his lip.
After a few minutes, the little barge reaches the other side of the Lampblack, and you begin to file out onto the other side of the river. "Well, folks," Skender says, "welcome to Ravenmoor."
The man on the boat knew more than he was saying but he wasn't going to share it. Not with us. I held my tongue. Talking around the boatman or the boy was a bad idea.
But I was willing to bet coin that the mayor had a love bite or two on his neck.
"Sorry to hear that. I'm no cleric, but I've got some skill and I brought my healin bag with me. I'll see what I can do when we see him."
Marsh gives the ferryman a wave as he disembarks.
"Hey, see you tonight, uh?!"
Marsh smiles at the eight year old with them.
"Orni, can ya show us where to go? Lead the way kid---there could be a coin in it for you."
Dalton pays the fare with everyone else and stays quiet during the ride, feeling it best to pay attention to listening. He holds his hand up in farewell to the ferryman as he steps off, then lowers his traveling hood to open up his peripheral vision, exposing his shaved scalp and taking in Ravenmoor.
We made it here, he thinks to himself, but then again, that was the easy part.
Skender Cardzi hacks up a laugh and raises his hand at Marsh. "Yeah, we'll see ya tonight, then. Enjoy yer visit. Hope the business goes well, an' all." He then quickly returns to his shack.
Ornigaard grins. "Sure, I know all 'bout Ravenmoor. Where y'wantin' ta go? Y'all wanna talk to my pa? He knows everything about this town. If'n ya wanna see the mayor, I can take y'that way, too. But I need to get Applesauce back in 'is cage 'fore that. An' I can stop 'n tell Marleyna y'all are here, too. Y'all will like her. She's the purtiest girl in town, I think, no matter what everybody else says. I don't think Shel Lupescu's that purty- she got real cold eyes, that's what my pa says. But maybe y'all like that. I dunno."
Still holding onto his pet stirge, Ornigaard leads you out of Skender's ferry-shack and you all take your first steps into Ravenmoor proper. The earth here is muddy, even on the main road, no doubt thanks to the river and frequent rain; grass grows tall and unkempt in every direction. A narrow creek branching off from the river runs a bit to the south of here, curving northward after a ways and splitting the town into two sections.
The buildings you see up ahead are squat, and look almost ramshackle, with sagging roofs and soggy shingles; you'd think they were abandoned if you couldn't see people coming in and out of some of them in the distance. Moss creeps along the sides of most buildings, and the buzzing of insects and the constant squealing of cicadas does not cease.
As you begin your approach, the first building you see to your south Ornigaard points out as "the Weaver's," which he explains is where most of the town's clothing comes from. He describes the weaver, Alizna, as a sweet old lady, but she can be scary if you make her mad, and her silkworms are "real gross."
The road branches northward, toward the heart of town, and eastward, across the creek, where it looks like mostly farmhouses are located. Ornigaard takes you north. "That's the town center over yonder," he explains, pointing northward ahead of you. Up ahead, you can see that several buildings are indeed grouped together around a large clearing. You can see a few locals wandering about, doing their business up ahead; none of them seem to have noticed your approach. They are dressed in neat, functional clothing with little color or adornment; the men in plain tunics with buttoned vests and wide-brimmed hats and trousers held up by suspenders, while the women wear long-sleeved, simple dresses with full skirts and white aprons and headscarves or bonnets. The children and younger folks you see dress similarly, though most of these young'uns clothes are dirtied, and it seems as if none of them wear shoes. The folk seem busy, either hard at work or at play. The smell of some spicy meat cooking fills your noses as the town center draws near.
Before they cross the river Calwen tries to communicate to Dio to fly over it: She points at the river and says "Danger!" in draconic, mimics a flying gesture and arches her arm is if taking off and landing in the direction of the river. Finally she makes an asking gesture whether that is all right with him. Dio is easily afraid, which is not surprising after what he experienced, and he may be scared to be separated from her in a strange village, if only for a few fingers' worth path of the sun across the sky.
Calwen still had her doubts regarding the story of the ferryman regarding the river wolves. Chances are the skull was that of a perfectly normal wolf. But there is no point in arguing over it. She would certainly not sent Dio in the water to find out. Maybe he could carefully explore the truth about this later.
Either way, she pays for herself, Windmane and, if he chooses to stay with her, for Dio.
"I do usually eat vegetarian, unless there is no other choice. I am curious for the cuisine in your village the. The most usual things which people in such a remote village never think about can appear exotic to travellers like us." She better left an excuse open for not eating all that food. They did know that their enemies, whoever they were, were fond of poison.
The celebration would be an opportunity to get out of the armour and into a dress and a few flowers into her hair; she's curious whether Warshawski will join her poshing up, or whether that is beneath her. She still would have to keep her guard up, but she doubted they would be attacked during the celebration. More likely later, when everyone was sleeping it off, drunk and potentially drugged beyond that. She would certainly prefer to have a watch tonight.
Dio nods to Calwen, understanding her meaning. He looks up at Dramin before he takes off and says:
With that, and a few flaps of his wings, Dio gets a running start and flies over the Lampblack river, landing gracefully on the other side, where he tucks his wings back to his sides and nestles down in the grass to await your arrival.
♤
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♧
Bacarov grins broadly at two things: first, seeing the child's enthusiasm and positive nature, which eased his mind away from the thought the entire town is just one big cult...well, maybe it's not one big cult. Then second, seeing Vinnie's softer side. It'd been too long since the last time the big man had had a genuine smile on his scarred mug.
To the child's inquiry, Bacarov puts forward, "How about we visit with your Pa, Master Ornigaard. No sense putting off returning your Applesauce to his home." He looks to the others hoping there's agreement. "Your father sounds like a treasure trove of stories about Ravenmoor."
Dramin once he is within eyesight of Dio again whispers under his breath when he believes no one to be watching, and with a quick Message wishes good hunting to his compatriot.
When he hears about the woman with the cold eyes, Dramin falters in his step for a moment. Could it be her? He starts to think and recall the woman, but he stops immediately when he realizes how pointless it is. Its a veil, must be. No outsider would be that foolish to walk around as such.
He takes Bacarov's method to heart and just listens and keeps an eye out for any strange runes, incantations or words out of place in this crowbegotten town.
"So that's the Physic over there," Ornigaard says, pointing to the first larger building on your right. "If y'all got any injuries, Mr. Alexi over there can patch ya right up. Nice guy, too. He pulled my tooth when it was sore last week." The front of this building has a wide, overhanging roof that provides shelter for a few benches and chairs out front. A few locals who look a bit long in the tooth sit on those benches, rolling some dice around. A few of them look up to stare at the party with expressions ranging from amused surprise to disgust and suspicion.
On the other side of the square is a surprising sight: what looks to have once been a fairly large church building has fallen into severe disrepair, with entire sections missing from its walls and roof. Upon the steeple, you can see an opening where once there would have been a large, iron bell- now, the space is empty. You can just barely make out a holy symbol of Desna carved into the archway above the doors to the church. No one comes in or out, and there does not seem to be any sign of construction or repairs in progress.
Ornigaard makes no mention of the ruined church, instead pointing to the building next to the Physic. "That there's the Lupescu Trading Company- but we usually just call it the Lupescu place." He starts to say something more, but then he notices the girl who sits in a rocking chair out front, quietly needling away at a white dress. The girl is about sixteen years old and stunningly beautiful- long, curly blonde hair and pale blue eyes. She glances up at you as the party approaches, her neutral expression not changing. One of her eyebrows raises slightly as her gaze crosses the group.
"Um," Ornigaard says, his voice growing quiet, "that's, uh, Shel Lupescu... she's ol' Saul's girl. Lotta folks 'round here call her the town beauty. She's gonna be in the runnin' fer Festival Queen tonight, 'gainst Marleyna an'... uh, I think Penny Loomis? Anyway, y'all see what I mean? Cold eyes. If y'all wanna do any shoppin', this is the only place in town to do it, but I don't really like the Lupescus much. They're kin'a mean."
Shel Lupescu gathers up the dress she was working on, puts away her needles, and quickly goes inside the shop.
Calwen laughs melodically at the childish innocence. "Yes, whoever would consider a woman of such a cold grace to be one of actual beauty?" She winks to Ornigaard from her own, pale blue eyes. More to herself she whispers after the disappearing girl: "True beauty comes from the inside, lass. Shelyn bless you and you competitors." For young girls which had no other audience and no other way to stand out a contest such as this could be very serious matter; a battle as serious as any which Calwen herself had had to fight.
She tries a friendly smile and a nod to all the villagers that look straight at them, regardless of how they look.
"As this little town seems like a relatively isolated, tight knit community I would think it was best to pay our respects to the mayor, so to give him an opportunity to estimate us and welcome us on behalf of the people." She says to the others and then to Ornigaard: "Where would we find Mister Andretti Kriegler?"
She regards the temple carefully. Temples of Desna are in unusual in the first place. Desna is all about experiencing the new, delving into the unknown, follow the stars and celebrate the beauty found darkness. Their priests don't usually linger to build temples; Desna encourages to follow every new dreams, which makes them appear somewhat fickle at times. But to build a temple and then let it decay like this, in a village ostensibly tied to and protected by Desna? That would rather be an indication that something is wrong here. Yet she scanned the walls of the temple for signs of beauty, signs that it wasn't all forgotten, like roses clinging to the walls.
Regarding the investigation she would better take things slowly and light the celebration pass, see what she would find out by merely watching. She would have to tell Kriegler that she was curious how exactly the village managed to keep the blight at bay, everything else would appear suspicious.
Obviously, the temple of Desna hadn't been used in a while. Because they had stopped worshipping Desna? Or because Desna doesn't actually care about temples? I had a sour feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I stopped following the others for a moment. I needed to see. I needed to listen. There was a story here and we were pissing too many pages in the book.
"Sounds like yer sweet on Miss Marleyna kid."
Marsh looks over at the elf and gives her a subtle head shake.
"No rush to see the Mayor, I am sure he's a busy man and has the biggest night of the year planned. I want to get a chance to meet the young mans dad, Orni needs to introduce us to Marleyna, an besides we got a hungry little Applesauce here."
"How'd you pick his name anyway? He doesn't eat applesauce does he?"
"What happened to the church Orni? Somethin take the bell tower off?"
Marsh keeps up the conversational tone while he looks around.
But gets distracted by the elfs firm bussom thanks the Warshawski bringing them up the other night.
Heh, they have been spendin time alone . . . Wonder if?---Naw!"
"Looks like it happened before you were born though."
Calwen looks a little surprised at Vincent. The little church was probably already in a state of decay when Orni was born and that kinda question might get the boy into trouble.
She turns to Warshawski as she notices that she falls behind and steps by her side, scanning the environment while the human woman is communing with the spirit world. She gives Dio a sign, so he isn't surprised when she suddenly disappears. After Warshawski's sight clears up again she whispers to her. "I wanted to clean the butterfly symbol at the entrance and see whether I can do anything about the inside if we find the time. I am not sure whether the building is still safe, though. If the beams have drawn water it might not."
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Bavarov is thankful for Vinnie's intercession. He'd rather get a lay for the land prior to meeting the mayor. It's the whole reason he suggested the kid lead them to his house. Whoever raised a respectful child like Orni would most likely be of similar temperament.
As the girls observe the the remnants of the Desnan church, Bacarov drifts by on his way to follow Onri and the others. "Be mindful of outward intentions here." He keeps his words low for just the two of them as he looks about at those observing them. "They let this place fall to rot for a reason. If it's dislike of the faith, poking around isn't going to win us any fans." He turns to leave but pauses, considers the elf for a moment, then adds, "Just an observation, that's all."
He passes on as he sees the look in Warshawski's eyes. He didn't want to disturb her time to commune so he mosied on to catch up with Vinnie. Then he hears him ask Orni about the church. Bacarov's cheek twitches, wondering if it's too soon to jump on a question that deep, but there wasn't anything for it. Instead he listens carefully to the child's reaction.
(Orni)
As they continue thru the town towards Orni's house, Bacarov begins taking in the reactions of others in the town. Is there someone making moves to notify others? Are they picking up any 'shadows'? What about that girl who turned aside to go into the shop? What's with the shop for that matter? His eerie nice with business holding a monopoly over an isolated area wasn't all that positive...
》 (people watching the party | someone following)
》 (watching for secret messages being passed | i.e. 'hey, go get the shotguns' or 'get Hank n' the others...')
》 (Shel Lupescu)
》 (the Lupescu Trading Shop | Anything stand out?)
Calwen took a deep breath, takes a look around and keeps her voice low. "I am more interested in upholding the ideals I stand for and conduct exemplary than making fans, Mister Bacarov. They may have had a reason to let this building decay, yet we, as outsiders, do not have that reason. I seriously doubt we will antagonize them overly - I doubt that they would care much at all, for as long as we do not bother them with it - and I can assure that I have no intention of confronting them for letting this church decay. However, this is a human matter and Desna is not my patron. I will concede you and Warshawski that choice."
"On a different matter: I would consider it wise to make an attendance to the mayor at once. We are a heavily armed group of strangers in a tight knit, isolated community. Do you realize how alien we are in this environment? Many people might not be willing to cooperate with us, if their mayor does not give us his welcome. They need to know that we will respect their rules and while such villages do not usually have an actual diplomatic protocol, attending the mayor may simply be expected. If we ignore that we may indeed antagonize them."
To Calwen, Ornigaard replies: "Aw, the Mayor don't live but right across the creek from my place and the Bartleys'. If you wanna go see 'im, we can do that first, I guess. I jus' gotta go drop Applesauce off." He blushes a little when Calwen winks at him.
"I ain't sweet on no girl," he says stubbornly to Marsh. "Marleyna's jus' nice, is all. She's my neighbor, so she babysits me sometimes when pa's out tillin' the fields. An' what's wrong with the name 'Applesauce?' I like applesauce. It's better'n some names I know." He sighs. "I dunno 'bout the church. It been that way since b'fore I was born. Mayor says we don't need no church to worship the Dream Tender at. We got the troll-stones fer that, anyway." He points to the space beyond the Lupescu shop, where several large, flat, black stones lie. Several villagers are gathered amongst them, chatting or praying. A strange, wicker effigy with a gourd for a head and moss-covered, canvas wings like those of a butterfly stands among them. It vaguely resembles Desna, though the ramshackle state of the thing would probably put off a more devout priest like Marvene. "They took the bell down a long time ago an' used the iron fer all kinds'a stuff. Pa says they were 're-cyclin' it."
All around you, you see whispers and strange looks. Not all of these seem hostile, but it's obvious that not only are strangers rare here, but well-armed and armored ones accompanied by a warhorse and a young river drake are even more strange. A few people step out onto the road to watch you pass, but none seem to follow after you. You catch a few words on the lips of some of the town's elders: "-from Magnimar, mos' likely-" "-better keep a short leash on that beast-" "-like to get under that elf's armor, that's fer sure-" "-place'll turn into a right tourist spot, at this rate-" "-Leonard's gon' have a heart attack if'n he sees these folk-", etc.
You look into the windows of the Lupescu shop and find that it looks poorly stocked. You see farmtools, mostly, along with what appears to be preserved food in jars and other general goods. The large shed- nearly a barn- behind it has a fine, spicy scent of cooking food coming from it. You catch a glimpse of Shel Lupescu watching you from the window, another cold glare on her pretty features. A large, bald man stands behind her with the same cold, ice-blue eyes.
I could feel them as the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, one by one. Spirits beginning to gather. They were always desperate to find someone they could talk to. Someone who could talk to them. A bridge from their world into this one.
"There's spirits here but nothing out of the ordinary. Not right here, anyway. I don't get a sense of malice from the abandoned temple. It could be as the boy just told Marsh. A temple to Desna's something of a fool's errand. If she isn't offended by it being destitute, we probably shouldn't be."
"It was a good thought, though, Calwen." I offered Calwen a brief smile. She had gone out of her way to try to understand my sense of honor. As someone devout to her own ways, I could certainly do the same for her."
Marsh makes sure to smile and make polite eye contact with the villagers. He nods to the men respectfully acknowledging their presence and waves at the small children that can't help, but take in the sights due to their naturally innocent and curious natures.
He was trying to offset the elfs stiff militaristic and direct manner and Warshawskis weirdness. Marsh was a big man and he knew it. People could see what he was physically capable of, there was no need to make it look like he was walking the yard or beating a path to the Mayors door.
He knew Sebastian and Dalton were keeping an eye on things. He guessed that Dramin was probably observing keenly as well, but not exactly what it was he was studying.
That damn wizard bent sword swinger could he pondering the life cycle of waterbugs in bullywug infested waters for all I know.
"Troll stones huh? Oh yes, I see em."
"When was the last time you guys had out of towners show up Orni?"
"We used'ta not get 'em too often," Ornigaard says. "Here lately, seems like we're gettin' more. I heard somebody came through last festival, an' Marleyna told me there was a half-man, half-elf come through fer a couple days a week or two ago. I didn't see neither one of 'em, but I guess some of the folk 'round here think it's odd that so many comin' round these days. Say... I guess they'll be sayin' that about you folk, too, huh?"
He points off to a large, fenced-off area in the field up ahead. "Them's the festival grounds up ahead," he says. "'Posed to start up proper in a couple hours. If y'look hard, you can see 'em settin' things up, see? An then that over there" -he points off to the left, where you see a large shack and a silo- "is the Ravenmoor Mill."
Calwen nods to Warshawski and returns the smile. "Of course." Turning Windmane around she leads them to close up with the others. "If it is anyhow possible before the festival I would like to check Lupesco's shop for some cloth and see whether the weaver can make me skirt out of it. I have nothing to wear for the festival and while it is too late to get a dress, a skirt may be possible. Will you join me, Warshawski?"
The prospect of wearing human clothes did not particularly appeal to her, nor that of wearing patched up clothes. But she was the only elf at the festival and the way she presented herself would reflect on all elves. She had to try her best. Hopefully Shelyn would help her with this.
She focused on her more immediate concerns. So they were bringing the boy back first. Well, maybe she would have the opportunity to leave Windmane at a stable.
Orni's remarks on Vincent's questions were most interesting. she was curious about those troll stones as well. That wicker effigy of Desna occurred strange to and for a moment she thought they were going to burn it, but with the moss on the "wings" it seemed more like it was like this for quite a while.
Dramin listens to the boy talk on about the town, to him he seems earnest enough with showing him the place, so he is just taking it all in as much as he can. Everything here just seems a little peculiar. As if one small detail is off and I can't quite nail it down. He struggles to find what is weird to him but can't do it. When the child talks about the folk of the town, he finds himself tuning out somewhat, keeping an eye on anything that could be traced back to that woman and the book; sure that one of these other people can deal with the people filing.
When the boy explains about the trollstones, Dramin wonders what they could be all about, but not wanting to blow the cover he has so dearly worked on he gets complacent with only doing a quick and less exact examination upon passing by.
When he hears Desna referred to as the 'Dream Tender', he gets an idea. Perhaps this dream woman has been duping some of them. It is not as if invading a dream is for the gods alone. I hazard to say that they may be getting this whole thing wrong inadvertently. Who could be setting it up though; that is the question above all. He wants to develop his theory more, but right now doesn't seem like the time, he would need the information the others can gather before fine-tuning it.
"A'right, let's go over this a'way," Orni says, leading the group down the trail off to the east of the Festival Grounds. You see two houses up ahead, each with a small barn, and the further of the two boasting a stable to boot- that must be Ornigaard's house. You can also see the creek again, along with the bridge that crosses it. On the other side of the creek, the land swells up into a barren hill. The largest building in Ravenmoor stands atop it, a two-story, saltbox-style house with a roof that slopes down to a single-story in the back. A large, stone chimney protrudes up from what you might assume to be a centrally-placed hearth. It has an inviting facade, and seems better-maintained than most of Ravenmoor's buildings.
"Yup, that's the mayor's place," Ornigaard says. He then gestures to the nearer of the two farmhouses on your side of the creek. "An' this is the Bartley place." He cups his hands around his mouth and jogs ahead slightly. "Mar-leeeeey-na! Hey, Marleyna! You home?"
As you come around the side of the Bartley house, you see a number of laundry lines with a few pieces of clothing hanging up to dry in the midday sun. A short girl of perhaps fifteen or sixteen years stands among them, tip-toeing to pin a large man's shirt to the line. She turns and smiles at Orni, and you see that she is quite stunning. Her short, messy black hair is a contrasting style to the more traditional and conservative buns most of the women in Ravenmoor wear. Her plain, gray dress is tattered a bit at the hems, and she is barefoot like the younger children in town. She starts to walk over when she sees the lot of you behind Ornigaard, and pauses in her tracks for a moment, her eyes going wide.
"Look, Marleyna," Orni says. "Out-a-towners! You tol' me to tell you next time anybody from the city come up, an' look what I found!" Applesauce fidgets in the boy's grip, as if eager to fly over and land on the girl. "They're from- wait, where're you guys from again? Magnimar?"
"Magnimar," the girl- Marleyna Bartley- repeats quietly, her face flushing. She swallows, then regains her composure and curtseys to you before turning back to the boy. "Orni, I had some extra batter left over, so I made another cake an' brought it over to your place. You better go get some before your papa eats it all." The young boy nearly jumps out of his skin in excitement, and thanks her profusely.
She examines the lot of you, a hint of wonder in her eyes. "Wow," she says. Her drawl does not seem quite as thick as the other townsfolk. "Nice to meet y'all. Anything y'all need while you're in town, you just let me know, all right? I know people around here. I can, uh, help. However you need it, y'know."
"We're goin' to my place, if you wanna come," Orni says.
Marleyna shakes her head. "Sorry, Orni, I gotta get down to Alizna's and pick up my dress for tonight. I heard the Loomises went an' paid her extra for Penny's, an' I wanna see if I can catch her workin' on it an' see what I'm up against." She looks up at you all again, then adds: "But maybe I can catch up with you later? I'd love to talk to y'all. Y'know, if you have the time. About city stuff, an' all. If that ain't too much trouble."
"Nice ta meetcha Marleyna. Orin sung yer praises while showin us around town. We'll be here for the festival tonight so I am sure we can find time for answerin questions about the city and such."
"I know you gotta run, but I'm Vincent, that's Sebastian, this gal over here is Warshawski, this is Dramin, Dalton, the elf is Calwen and the drake is Dio."
"Good luck on yer bid for queen tonight."
"I have a healers bag with me. I could give ya a dab of sooth syrup---it would clear up that little shiner under yer eye right quick."
"It won't cost ya nothin. Just a gesture of appreciation."
Dalton neutrally glances over the various ramshackle buildings, trying to keep his disappointment at their shabbiness hidden. As he follows along on the tour, he notices the local girls and how strikingly pretty a few of them are. They certainly aren't hurting for good genes, despite how far-removed they are, he thinks to himself.
I winced as Marsh mentioned the girl's black eye. She didn't look like much of a brawler, so more likely than not she got that shiner from a boyfriend or her father. Neither was something a young lady usually wanted to bring up in mixed company. Men rarely understood the shame a woman felt when she was in an abusive relationship. Or the fear that it will turn deadly if dragged out into the light.
"Tell you what." I pushed in, interjecting quickly. "Calwen and I have been on the road for days."
I stepped up to Marleyna. "The men don't care if they smell like dust and dung but Calwen and I would like a chance to bathe. Maybe you could show us where the local girls bathe in privacy around here? We'd appreciate it... and in return I can give you a dress that will put anything your competition is wearing to shame."
Shelyn, give that I don't have to choose between those two girls! Marleyna was clearly the more charming, the more selfless one – well at least that was a very strong first impression. Going solely on the central tenet of Shelyn's dogma it was a simple choice.
Yet, Shel had fought at least equally hard for the honour of becoming queen. She may not be as selfless, outgoing, or centered within herself, but she did have grace, beauty and she the devotion to work on it. She would not be surprised if the title meant a lot more to her than to Shel and that there was a lot more pressure on her than on Marleyna. She was curious why Shel was so introverted in comparison. Or did they just catch her on the wrong foot?
If she was forced to make a choice she would have to see them both on the festival first – not just their looks, but also how graceful or disgraceful they carried themselves. Her apparent character gave Marleyna a large bonus, of course, but that was not all there is to it. She not have a great heart like Marleyna, but that did not mean she had no potential or less devotion. Maybe a little recognition was just what she needed. Or maybe it would drive her arrogant. From what Calwen had seen, they both deserved it.
“It's very nice to meet you, too. It is delightful to find such charm and joy in a haunted forest. Some hearts are brighter than every darkness. I am not ready to take sides yet, but... Shelyn bless you.” She turned her gaze down in an expression of shame, but she did not want to lie about this.
She would not have noticed the black eye had Marsh not mentioned it. Strange, she did not have the impression that her father was particularly violent from what she heard. A scheme by her competitor? Possible, but it might be anything. She shielded her mouth and whispered to Bacarov: “Sebastian, despite our struggle earlier, could you do me a favour and heal this? I know it sounds like a waste of an expensive spell, that may save a life... but as a woman and faithful of Shelyn I can imagine how much all this means to the girl. That should not be a disadvantage. I would owe you, by Shelyn.”
“I do hope we get a chance to talk at the festival. Let us know if there is a song you particularly like to dance to.” Calwen was not so sure whether she really wanted that. She would have to confront the girl with the dark things on her mind or gloss over it, which felt deeply dishonest.
Whatever was going on in that village she could not bring herself to believe that Orni or Marleyna had anything to do with it. But appearances could be deceiving. She really wanted to ask whether or not the festival was in any way part of the rituals that protected the village, but that might have given away her intentions prematurely. It would probably better to wait and see for herself, and may carefully ask questions when the celebration progressed and people got drunk.
She would not be surprised if Maleyna had met both Armand and Elias, but this was certainly not the moment to ask for that. Given Elias reputation it was possible that Elias was the reason for her black eye.
She really liked the idea of having a bath first, she should take that time, even if it would mean going to the festival with the clothes she had. Offering Marleyna a dress was a nice gesture, though Calwen would not have done that, that would have meant taking sides and Calwen was not ready to do that yet.
Geez Warshawski, I am tryin to bud a few relationships here, not start a war of local politics. If she gives this girl a dress its pickin sides and is gonna piss someone else off. Just what we need right now. Who the hell trades a dress for directions to the creek!? These people probably just fill up a basin and towel off like almost everyone else who isn't a noble or from the city.
Marleyna pales at the realization that her black eye is still visible, and immediately raises a hand to hide it. "Er... um... No thank you, Mr. Vincent, that won't be, uh... necessary..." She averts her eyes and begins to shy away somewhat.
Warshawski's offer almost opens her back up. "Well, uh... I mean, if you want to get clean before the festival starts up, the best place to do it is probably the pond up the creek a ways... Most folk around here just hop in the creek, but it's pretty gross, so I don't mind the walk. If you follow the creek up north a quarter-mile, you'll see it." She bites her lip, as if seriously considering the offer for the dress. "Well... it ain't like Alizna likes me much, anyway. I don't know what I did to her, but she's always tellin' people I'm trouble... I figure she probably ain't gonna do me any favors regardin' my dress, 'specially not bein' all chummy with the Lupescus as she is..." After a moment, she nods. "I can show you where the pond is, if y'like. I think a proper Magnimar dress would make these folks' heads spin but good. That'd really show that Shel Lupescu... be nice to win one over her for a change."
Calwen's compliments seem to help a bit, as well. "Thanks for the kind words," she says, but something Calwen said seems to be eating at her. "Yeah, I'll find you at the festival. I'm sure you won't be hard to find; ain't a whole lotta elves out here in this rotten country." She gives Calwen an appraising look, and adds: "Not since that half-elf came into town and left just as quickly. Anyway... that'd be neat. Nobody in Ravenmoor can play any music worth dancin' to, but maybe I'll give it a shot if you'll join me."
"Anyhow, it's nice to meet you all." She curtsies again. "Mr. Vincent, I might take you up on your offer after all."
Dramin winced when Marsh said his name aloud. That was not his to give. Despite the situation and the bad bluff at hand, he still gets somewhat upset. When Calwen mentions the bruise on her eye, he finds very little to latch on to. Regardless of how the woman looks this place and the townsfolk have potentially caused the deaths of many students and it was not wise to waste resources, and more importantly, reveal what cards they had in hand. He shifted slightly, tucking the component pouch a little deeper.
He puts his arm on Marsh's shoulder, hopefully trying to get his point across with an eyeroll.
They needed to tread carefully and this was not going to be fruitful if they were dead from lack of rest and resource. Until they had more information, making large revealing decisions was unwise.
Marsh feels Dramin's hand on his arm. He supposed that the spell dabbling fighter didn't get the use of the magic syrup on a teenaged girls eye---but then again Dramin had never been the father of a teenaged girl.
"All right then sweet pea. I've got a piece of clean gaze here . . . Just need about a tenth copper size drop here. . . There we go. . . Now we just need to hold it up. . . "
Marsh looks almost comical trying to manipulate the summer sausages and ham-hocks he calls his hands. Aware of his size and strength, Vinnies gentleness and care look more exaggerated than it would have for an average sized man. His face and eyes dedicated to the task, his mask of gruffness melts away. Two fingers pluck a stray lock of hair away from the injured eye and tuck it away behind the girl's ear.
He places the gaze on the wound.
"There we go. Nice and gentle like a butterfly's wings . . . Just pat it around . . . Nice and soft---don't rub it."
"There we go. Now you hold it sweet heart. It will absorb on the skin and then in a few minutes we can let it dry."
"There you are. Didn't hurt a bit did it?"
Marsh turns around and begins to load his supplies back into the bag.
The girl had spunk but she also had something eating at her. She knew about Calwen's missing friend and she knew about this town. She'd be a good source of information. And I never mind helping the underdog.
"If her father's the only merchant in town, your competition has an unfair advantage. We can even that out." I said to Marleyna. "Why don't you show us to the pond and we'll get cleaned up while the boys explore the town and settle?"