Death and Taxes - GM Budd the C.H.U.D.'s Feast of Ravenmoor

Game Master Budd the C.H.U.D.

"I better find a stable for Windmane first, otherwise I would have to take him with me to the festival... But I would be grateful to join you and relax a little."

She still thought that visiting the mayor would be a good idea, but since their schedule was pretty tight and the others did not seem to be in hurry to visit him either she had given up on trying. And if she had to join the festival in her tunic and pants, so be it. She might as well leave her armour on, which gave her a flair of knightliness, not as good as one of femininity, but but better than nothing. Not exactly an appropriate way for a faithful of Shelyn to present herself at a celebration, but their schedule was tight. Who knows maybe there were at least a few nice flowers at the pond Marleyna spoke of. And she could discretely find out what Marleyna knew about Armand.

"A half elf you say? It has been a while since I met someone of my kind I would certainly let a half-human pass. Do you think he will be here for the festival?" Calwen hoped not, since she buried him herself.

Bluff: She implies that she did not know about Armand and that she assumes that he was still alive.
Bluff: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16

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》Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (10) + 9 = 19 (note shiner)
》Bluff: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22 (hide use of wand)
》CLW: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8
》Heal: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16 (origin of bruise)
》Sense Motive: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25 (is she afraid? hiding something?)
》Linguistics: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27 (is she from around here?)

Bacarov spends a good portion of time listening. The child Orni is a wealth of information; like stumbling upon a crime scene where the perpetrator is still there and telling everyone how he did it. He makes a mental picture of the township thru the boy's eyes, noting the names but - more importantly - his enthusiasm level for each.

Then they meet the girl. Pretty, in that dark sort of way girls can be when their secrets are held close. The bruise on her eye sets Bacarov's teeth to grinding. Cowards hit girls, plain and simple. He's still fuming about it when Calwen makes her comment about disagreements. The Inspector sees the elf out of the corner of his eye but only nods in response.

A brush of the sleeve of his tunic and he has the wand in hand, still beneath the garment. As Marsh starts working on the girl's face, he subtly triggers the wand's effect to give the girl healing. With the substances Marsh is using, the flush of magical energies should be masked.

Bacarov listens to the girl, noting her speech cadence and accent, and wonders at her origins. He wonders at the bruise that had been on her face.

And he wonders at the half-elf...Probably Armand...

He nods in response to Warshawski's suggestion to split up for a bit.

I'll add more later after getting some repossession to my rolls above.

Dalton does little during the exchange but smile. Marsh does indeed look comical, but it's clear he's more in his element among these folk than the more proper city peoples of Magnimar. Silently, he shares Calwen's interest in the half-elf. In a town this small, we are bound to stumble upon a clue just by following our noses, he thinks to himself, remembering the expression his old friend had commonly used in his old adventuring party.

When Bacarov touches the wand to Marleyna, despite the fact that he manages to keep the device hidden, she jumps and grabs at her back. She shoots the Inspector a startled look and takes a step back, studying him. She rubs at her back for a moment and realization dawns on her, and she nods in thanks.

Regarding Armand, Marleyna shrugs sadly. "I dunno... he just up and left one day without saying goodbye. Maybe he'll come around for the festival, but I wouldn't get my hopes up."

"Anyway, if you want to drop off that lovely creature there, maybe Orni's papa will let him stay in the stable? Him? Her? It's on the way, anyway. C'mon, I'll go with you that far, at least."

Ornigaard jumps excitedly. "All right! An' then y'all can meet my pa! An' maybe we can have some cake!" Applesauce squeals as the boy squeezes it a little too tight. "Sorry, buddy," he says, stroking its head.

Assuming you're all ready to move along...

Marleyna scruffs Ornigaard's hair as she walks alongside him toward the Korzha house. The farmhouse is a bit larger than the Bartley place, but still quite humble. The barn in back and stable also give one the impression that the Korzhas are a bit better off than their neighbor, but given the state of most houses in Ravenmoor, that only counts for so much.

As you draw near, the front door opens and a tall, handsome man with a chinstrap beard and well-combed hair steps out into the light. "'Ey, boy!" he shouts, raising a hand to Ornigaard and smiling brightly. "Miss Marleyna, fancy meeting you here again so soon. What's this, Orni? You bring company?" He casts a glance about your group appraisingly. "Out-of-towners, huh?"

Ornigaard gives the man a quick rundown of the events that transpired so far, and the man nods appreciatively to you. He approaches and extends a hand to each of you in greeting. "Viorec Korzha," he says, bowing his head slightly as he shakes each of your hands- and bowing at the waist to both Calwen and Warshawski. He seems quite gentlemanly, especially for someone from this far out in the moors. "Orni, go put Applesauce in the cage with Creamcheese an' Pumpkin, then go get yerself a piece'a that cake Marleyna made us." When the boy leaves to do so, Viorec scratches his head. "Listen, thanks fer not hurtin' Applesauce. I know stirges go bad sometimes, 'specially if they get loose an' get a taste fer human blood- I been real careful with my lot, jus' pig's blood fer them- but that beastie's important to my boy. He would'a been heartbroken if Applesauce'd been hurt. I appreciate yer restraint, in any case." He sighs and offers another welcoming smile. "Now, obviously you folk're here on business- Magnimar, if I'm guessin' right from the cut of yer gib. Anything an ol' farmhand can help you lot with?"

Rumors of how inhospitable these townsfolk are seem to be greatly exaggerated, Dalton thinks wryly to himself as he's introduced to Viorec. Still, better keep our business close to the chest. I could practically feel the heat from Warshawski's glaring last time I opened my mouth. Wouldn't want to put my foot in it again...

"I am Dalton, of Manaket," is all he offers aloud, politely lowering his hood and offering a small smile as he shakes Viorec's hand, as he had learned to do since traveling to the North. In Rahadoum, smiles are more rarely seen between mere acquaintances, but are quite common in privacy. Here, though, he had grown accustomed to the Northern ways of smiling in greeting, smiling in passing, smiling at every little thing. It seemed to put others slightly more at ease with his outlandish appearance.

He falls silent when asked of their business, allowing those who can more wisely choose their words speak.

Dramin sees the homely man and just gives him a blank stare. If the half-elf was here in the city, this man may know of him. He doesn't know how to proceed with this, never being much for conversation. His eyes move about, looking for anything that may seem out of place on the man.

Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 3

Partway through he realizes how dull he must be and settles on keeping a magical lookout instead.

Casts Detect Magic focusing if he finds anything.
Spellcraft: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (9) + 9 = 18

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》Sense Motive: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (17) + 8 = 25

Bacarov flicks an eye back towards the girl's house as she describes their next steps. You get this good at hiding fear, means you've had to practice it night and day. His eyes narrow and the Inspector practices his own mask to hide a brimming anger. Wonder what sort of man you've got for a pa, Marleyna?

He swallows his anger until such time he can confirm his suspicion. If it bares fruit, he might have a conversation with Vinnie, maybe set the girl's dad straight.

At the topic of Armand, Bacarov gets the impression Marleyna may have had something more than hope in mind for the druid. As they had over to the Korzha farm he pulls Warshawski and Vinnie aside, trusting in their observations in human behavior. More eyes on the topic, the better.

When they arrive at the Korzha farm he focuses on the conversation and the man, pleased to find that his estimations based on Orni's behavior had been well founded. After greeting and shaking hands, Bacarov responds in kind to his friendly tone. But he stays alert to the man's reaction as he outlines the bahia of their visit.

"Well, myself and then other officers are here to visit with the Honorable Mayor Kreigler. But to be honest, we'd like to learn more about the town. It seems we've arrived at the right time too, with the festival starting." Bacarov let's his pleasant tone fall slightly and says, "We've heard though, that the mayor had taken ill. Is he still taking visitors?"

》Sense Motive: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (8) + 8 = 16
》Diplomacy: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28

I'm glad he's along, the monk thinks to himself as his eyes flick to his right at Sebastian. He manages to make us sound important and unimposing at the same time. Which of those words did he speak that triggered those opposing impressions?

The monk's eyes fall to the floor in front of him as he ponders the mysteries of charisma.

Bacarov was right. This was a divide and conquer situation. I nodded to him and stepped back.

"Officer Bacarov can explain." I said in passing to the man. "We ladies have a date with a bath. After days on the road we could use a bit of prettying up."

I slide one arm into Calwen's and another into Marleyna's.

"Let's go, shall we?"

Bacarov's manner seems to warm Mr. Korzha up even more, and he smiles and nods. "Well, I can certainly help you if you need any help getting around Ravenmoor. The mayor's health has been a popular topic 'round town these days; he didn't take too well to his wife's, er..." He takes a quick look around to make sure his son is not nearby before continuing. "...Well, since poor Miranda hung herself. He puts on a happy face for everybody, but it's plain to see the pain in his eyes. I think he's just ready to curl up an' join her in the great beyond, personally." His expression darkens a bit. "Cryin' shame, though. Andretti's a kind man. Been good to my family. We all knew Miranda was troubled, on account of bein' barren and all, but we were all shocked when she took her own life. In any case, I'm sure he'll make time to see you, but you'll have to catch 'im- he'll be runnin' around town all day, gettin' ready for the festival."

"An' who's this handsome little devil here?" Viorec says, his eyes landing on the little drake, Dio. He carefully kneels down and reaches out to pat the creature's head. "A river drake, by the looks of 'im. That's right impressive, tamin' one of these. Cute little bugger, ain't he?" Dio seems to enjoy the attention, though a dragon's facial expressions are sometimes difficult to read. Viorec looks up at the party. "There ain't a lot of stables in town, but if y'want, you can park this little fella an' that fine horse there until y'need 'em. Don't worry, I'll keep 'em fed an' watered. How long're y'all stayin' in Ravenmoor?"

In other words, if you don't want your animal companions to follow you around through town all day, you can park them here until they're needed.

When Warshawski, Calwen, and Marleyna move to depart, he nods and blushes somewhat. "Y'all have fun, then," he says, and watches them go for a moment. "Nice to see Marleyna have some sweet ladies to spend time with," he says quietly. "Poor thing. Bit of a pariah 'round these parts. I notice her black eye's faded right quickly. Y'all have anything to do with that?" He sighs. "What that Robb Bartley does to that girl ain't right. Ten years ago, I'd'a set that wicked beast straight, but I gotta exercise caution. Man's as unpredictable as the Dagwoods. He already came callin' here a few too many nights, leveling some foul accusations toward me an' my boy regardin' our watchin' out for his girl." He shakes his head sadly and puts such thoughts aside. "Well, I guess that's a good bit of information to start with; watch what you say to folk here in Ravenmoor. You'll find there's plenty'a friendly folk here, but there's more than a few types you gotta watch yerself around. The Lupescus are edgy folk, an' their girl Shel has been right cruel to Marleyna and my boy both in the past, though she makes sure to put on a good act when the Mayor's around. Robb Bartley, o'course. An' I doubt you'll see 'em, since they become recluses, but the Dagwoods that live out past the Mayor's place are... well, they're different. Only friend they got now is ol' Skender, the ferryman; he's Abner's ol' buddy from way back, but even he don't like Markham much. But lemme stop ramblin'- what can I help y'all with? Y'wanna come in an' have some cake, meet Mrs. Korzha?"

- - - -

More to come in a bit, including what the ladies find at the pond. Let's let Calwen check in first before doing that.

“Windmane is a stallion”, remarks Calwen as Marleyna wonders about his gender and pats his neck.

She smiles, since she is positively surprised by Viorec's demeanour and looks both and responds to his bow with a not quite as deep, but elegant and lasting curtsey. “It is a pleasure, to meet you.” She says honestly. Men like him were probably much of the reason that there were half-humans. Well, good looking and friendly men like him, not married men; a lot of elves would not care about that, but she did. “I am Calwen Snowpaw and accompany these travellers in the forest; as strange as they have become to me recently – well, over the past two or three decades. I would be glad to know Windmane on your land, I have a feeling he may like it. I will gladly compensate you for it.” She starts taking off saddle, bags and other equipment from him and pays great attention to how he reacts to all this.

As Viorec refers to Dio she kneels down by his side and touches Dio's back softly, though she tries to avoid raising the impression she would think of him as a pet. Regardless of the appearance, he was a little boy and she was watching out for him, along with the others. “That is Dionysus... he is still very young and he lost his family, so he is coming with us for now. He is not simply a beast though; he may not be able to speak Taldan, but he is fluent in Draconic, an outstanding fish hunter and a kind, yet somewhat shy creature. I do not believe he can be tamed, only educated. I am trying to learn his language as fast as I can...”

Calwen glances to Marleyna as Viorec talks about Robb Bartley. As he mentions that Marleyna was an outsider she raises an eyebrow and repeats: “An outsider...” in disbelief. She wondered, what on earth would have driven that man to hit Marleyna. She wished he would try that with her, he would soon find out how much an armoured fist of a warrior hurts in one's face. And then those false accusations. Calwen had little doubt that they were false and could imagine of what kind they were. She would not be surprised if that was someone else's idea and she could not bring herself to believe that it was just a scheme by Shel. It was a shame that the two girls did not get along with each other. A certain degree of competition was to be expected, but being two radiantly good looking girls in the same little town should have also given them a common ground at other times. There were many things she did not understand, but she did not want to ask Marleyna in public. It seemed to her that Skender was a figure in this village which was not to be underestimated; whatever was going on, if he was not in it he probably knew.

“Is there anyone particularly zealous in their belief in this village? I noticed those standing stones and people praying; I prefer to be the wasp than step into the wasps' nest.” she said in reference to Calistria. “Anything I should rather not say or an allegiance I should rather not promote to loudly? Anyone with a particular hatred for my people?”

She nodded to Warshawski and Marleyna to indicate that she was about to leave. “Would you mind if Dio comes with us? It's a women's thing, I know, but he is of a way too different kind to count as a boy in that regard. And I think he might love a beautiful pond in the forest.” She asks the two women carefully, though she is ready to leave him with Dramin (as the only one who can talk to him) and the others, if one of the two women disagrees.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 7 + 2 = 22

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 6 + 2 = 23

"Robb Bartley huh?, yeah it's a shame he'd treat his own kid like that. You actually seen him do that before? Some one should uh, . . . have a discussion with'im about it."

"But speakin of discussions, I always think they're better over a piece of cake. I'll take ya up on yer offer. Are you a fan of a fine brandy?"

Dramin gives a silent nod to Calwen and turns to Dio. When his back is turned to the man at the doorway, he whispers under his breath and Messages to the drake.

Draconic

He gives a mute grin to the man and fakes some sort of hand signal to Marsh, showing his agreeable attitude toward the cake.

"Dionysus, huh?" Viorec says, and pats Dio on the head again. "Good name. Well, if he decides he wants to come crash with your stallion, he's more'n welcome. No compensation necessary. As far as your questions are concerned, I don't reckon nobody in town has a particular dislike of elven folk, but most of the people here are pretty laid-back in their worship of the Dream Tender. I wouldn't worry too much about offendin' anybody, so long as you don't get smart with any of 'em." He waves as Calwen, Warshawski, and Marleyna depart with Dio in tow after helping lead Windmane to the stables and making sure the noble steed is comfortable.

"Well, you folk come on inside, then. We can talk more inside... I don't want to talk too much about ol' Robb Bartley out here in the open." he says, gesturing to the door. Bacarov, Marsh, Dramin, and Dalton follow him inside.

The Korzha house is plain, but inviting enough, with sparse decoration but a distinct feeling of a loving, traditional household. Well, as traditional as a household that has three pet stirges can possibly be, in any case.

He leads you to a long dining table, where an attractive, black-haired woman who appears to be of Shoanti blood is cleaning up. Mrs. Korzha even bears a few of the Hawk Tribe's particular style of tattoo, and she seems at least as fit and strong as her husband. She smirks as Viorec leads the party inside. Ornigaard hops up onto one of the seats at the table, his feet kicking excitedly as you approach.

"Y'all must be Orni's new friends," Mrs. Korzha says, wiping her hands off on her apron. "Welcome, and have a seat. There's not much cake left, but you're all welcome to a slice. It's a lemon cake- hope none'a you have allergies to that kinda thing." The cake may be a bit plain-looking, but it smells quite nice, which bodes well for Marleyna's baking ability.

After a few bites of cake, Viorec asks his wife to take Orni out to play. She nods, kisses her husband on the cheek, and leads Orni out of the house.

"That's my better half, Brekka," he explains after a moment. "Damned fine woman; met her when some'a her tribe came down to trade one day, 'bout ten years back. She's been keepin' me honest ever since. Now, what all would you like to talk about?"

- - - -

The monk doesn't comment on Robb Bartley's abusive ways, having suspected that someone close to Marleyna was responsible. He shakes his head, marveling at the vicious brutality humanity is capable of. It would never have been allowed in his temple, though it was not uncommon in the city of Manaket itself.

He comes up short for a split second when he enters the home and meets Brekka. Dalton has never seen a Shoanti woman before. It takes all of his discipline to avoid staring, his blood quickened in her presence. Her smirk forces his gaze to the floor. He stares at his lemon cake until she takes Orni outside, managing a respectful nod of farewell as she departs, then refocusing his attention on the quest at hand. He glances between Marsh and Bacarov, wondering which of them will explain. He isn't sure whether they will decide to reveal their true purpose to this man.

Calwen nods to Marleyna and watches her for a moment. Smart girl, she thought. "I am not exactly subtle, am I" Let us see whether we can seduce to accept your scars as part of yourself. Of perils you overcame.

She started to loosen the straps holding her armour in place. She casts a glance to Warshawski to see what she thinks about this, but decides to trust Marleyna. "Do not let anything worry you, we have a dragon to protect us after all. A small dragon, but still a dragon." She bends down and splashes water at Dio, to challange him to play in the water. She does of course stand no chance against a river drake, but that will not stop her from trying.

She sighs. "I am indeed not just here for the festival, and I know of the half-elf you spoke of and he will indeed not be coming to the festival. It was fortunate that I met the others, so I would not stand out as an oddity that much, veiled by a group of oddities. Is there anything more you can tell me about his visit? And there are a few other things which worry me. The Dream Tender, presumably Desna, and the way it shields the village from the blight around it. I have a feeling there is more to it than meets the eye. Personally I revere Shelyn; hence I think I can understand how important that competition for being Queen is, it would be to me, anyway. But I have spent some time in the frozen wastes of Irrisen. You would not believe the comfort the stars give one in the eternal cold at night, remind us that no darkness is ever truly all encompassing. They do not just tell us that there is always hope, but they show us. Not even the witches can cloud all the stars - may that be those in the sky or in our hearts. Desna teaches us to believe in ourselves. She does not usually fight our battles for us, but she shows us the path. That Desna would simply hold the hand over an entire village, the crumbling church, that strange... intense reverence occurs strange to me. Of course you likely are not aware of any other way, but tell me, did it ever occur to you that something was out of place? Do you ever call the patron of your village by 'Desna', 'Starsong' or 'The Great Dreamer'? I can trust you not to speak of this, can I not?"

She tried carefully to balance with how much to confront her and left her comrades out of the game for now. Whether she exposes herself to Marleyna or not is Calwen's own choice, but she cannot expose the others on her own instincts to trust Marleyna.

She looks around to ensure they are not being watched.
Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 13

As she drops the last bits of her clothes, she arches a bit to pose for Warshawski, beholds her for a moment and gives her a smile to indicate that she like her lush, human body. It does not appear as though Calwen has any hint of shame, since she continues moving naturally, if lighter as she is naked - her features may be rather girlish by human standards, yet she is too tall and the is a distintly womanly power within her as well as her own scars from many battles. To Marleyna she says: "You see this scar here on the outside of the left thigh, and there on the inside? A friend shot me intentionally with an arrow, so that I would be able to break from mind control of evil sorcery. And this one is new, though hard to see, since Sebastian - Mister Bacarov - healed it quickly. It is from a bandit's blow, a couple of days ago. This one her from the shoulder to the breast bone is from my early days as disciple of the White Rose, my order, it was from an orc. We could not heal it right away, but luckily a brother in arms managed to bring me back to our camp before I my lunges collapsed. I am... not easy to kill, though some have tried." She gives Marleyna a wink and dives into the water without any hesitation, spins a circle and looks around for Dio.

As her head reappears she continues. "Would you give me the honour of telling me how you got yours? We can keep a secret. By Shelyn and my faith in the hidden beauty in everything, even our scars. Are you sure you will not come in? It is wonderful!" Obviously she's freezing and not a particularly good swimmer, but that does not seem to spoil her mood. She starts to wash the dirt from the past days out of her hair. "Whether you become queen or no, it cannot change how amazingly beautiful you are. It shows in your warm brown eyes, your smooth shape and motions, the way you smiled when you first met us. On the risk of repeating myself: True beauty comes from the inside. And you are amazingly beautiful. There is nothing to be ashamed of." Not for you, anyway, but certainly for the one who did this to you. She eyes a little around at the edge of the pond whether she notices a flower that would befit Marleana's hair. A rose would do nicely. Deep and red, to her dark hair and eyes. It has to be deep, intense and of a warm colour, anyway.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12

This is not actually meant is one giant monologue. Interrupt her at any time.

The pond looked perfect after days on the river and on the trail. I didn't wait but began undressing. My pack had been left with the men. That just left my scarf, my sleeves, my clothing and my holy amulet. All those were removed in short order and I dived into the water. I stayed under for a long moment, holding my breath and letting my cares float away. When I couldn't hold my breath any longer I rushed up, gasping for air. Just in time to hear Calwen talk about her own scars."

Good idea.

"This one?" I said as I stepped out of the water and pointed to a long, thin scar on my shoulder. "Came from a tax dodger who decided he'd rather try to kill me with a dagger than pay his bill."

I pointed to a nasty scar on my inner thigh.

"A would be rapist who thought I was easy prey. His scar's a little higher up, right where he's missing something. Or two somethings as the case may be."

I turned around so she could see the patchwork of scars on my back.

"Captured by a sadist. He thought he could actually convince me this was fun. When I got free I made sure he went into the deepest hole in Magnimar I could find."

I turned back around and smiled at the young woman.

"We all have scars. I think we all have the strength to overcome them, too."

I'm not rolling here unless you need me to, Budd. This strikes me as pure RP.

Rolling's only necessary when the outcome of an action could be in doubt. No need to roll here, I say.

- - - -

Dramin takes a seat close to the monk, hoping that the air around him will be warped by the monk's attitude and draw attention away from his uncomfortable self. He knows that his now quiet exterior is a farce, inside he is constantly talking to himself and noting what interactions and small details he can glean.

On the mention of the Shoanti woman he takes a cursory glance, his eyes hungry solely for knowledge... and perhaps cake.

Knowledge (history): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (12) + 10 = 22 Information on the hawk tribe, their differences between the other tribes.

Calwen was expecting something like this, yet seeing how terribly wounded Marleyna was wounded, how some of the wounds had not completely healed yet, despite Sebastian's heal spell, still shocked her.

“This may be your business, but I will not let this go on.”, she mumbled. “Marleyna, it does not have to be this way. Know that there is another way. He will not lay hands on you while I am around, this I swear.” She could barely control the fury inside of her. She swallowed hard. If Robb Bartley was indeed her father, he was probably a drunk. Calwen would not be surprised to hear that his wife was dead. That he mistreated Marleyna did not necessarily mean, that he did not love him and she may feel protective about him. She may even feel responsible or guilty for what happened. But this had to stop. He needed to be stripped of his influence on her, whether or not Marleyna wanted that.

“By the brothers and sisters before me and beside me my heart lives, my songs dwell, my hope blooms. I shall pass on that blossom with sword or kiss, for the touch of that White Rose is mends every wound, so that any being capable of love shall be free to behold it.” she quoted her oath again. “And I shall not stand idly by this disgracefulness … this evil, in fact.” The more difficult question was what were to happen with Marleyna once Calwen was gone. But Calwen would help Marleyna, whether or not she wanted that; Calwen was not asking for permission for interfere. She just made it her business, and thus the business of the White Rose. In elven she spoke in a solemn yet somewhat defiant manner: “Meril faen cen'Marleyna dîn nith. În loth pladae a în erch pladadîn il rhudol e.”*

She had stepped in the water to play a bit with Dio, but she just did not feel like playing anymore. She swam a bit after him and half heartedly tried to grab his tail, but then mumbled: “I am sorry, another time, alright? I have not forgotten about you.”

“I am so very sorry to burden you with what I am going to say now when your great evening is about to come. This should be a beautiful day, but... I do not know when we get an opportunity like this again. Regarding Armand: No, I did not know him – I am afraid, he is dead. He was murdered when I found him.” She stepped out of the water and looked around again to see whether they were being watched. “Armand escaped a first attack, but he was wounded. But his predators pursued him and murdered him violently while he was trying to tend his wounds. Please do not ask me how I know all this, I cannot speak of it. Do you know anyone who uses a stick, rod, polearm – maybe a scythe, but it may be anything – which has a talon shaped lower end? I found such tracks in the ground. Do you know any flayleef users? Who would have access to blue whinnis poison, who uses poisoned scythes and sickles? Who would be able bind their victims in a magical spiderweb? Have you ever seen anyone ever wearing something like this?” She produced the broken mask she found from her bundle, trying to shield it as much with her body as she could and turned it in her hands, so that Marleyna could get a good look at it, but anyone potential beholder hiding in the bushes around them would be unlikely to see it. “It is broken. One of Armand's murderers perished and he left this behind. You probably understand how this would lead me to Ravenmoor.” She stepped a little closer and tried to describe to the man she found – his height, weight, his hair. “You have any idea who that was? Is anyone missing, maybe one of the Dagwoods?”

She lowered her eyes, stepped back to her bundle and put her tunic over again. “It is not right put all this on your mind. I am so very sorry for the darkness I show you.” She plucked a particularly dark and intense water lily blossem she spotted earlier and offered it to Marleyna. “I think that one may look good in your hair. I hope you like it and accept my apology for all the sorrow I bring.”

_________
* “The White Rose recognizes Marleyna, its sister. Its blossom shall touch her and its thorns all that haunts her.”

Calwen liked to talk. I wondered if this was an elven thing, a knight thing or just a Calwen thing. Nothing wrong with it, but I've often found that one or two directed questions always did more than entire speeches and a thousand inquiries. She had a lot to learn about teamwork when it came to an interrogation.

The girl's injuries were horrifying. This wasn't a beating. This was regular torture. Done with a crop, whip or stitch most likely.

I waited until Calwen was done and then I boiled it down to two points. Two points I considered important enough to cut through everything else.

"Calwen. Stand down for a second, okay? Finding Armand's murderer is important but you're going to terrify this girl with your intensity."

I stayed in the water as I spoke.

"We can get to what Calwen asked in a minute. Or even later. Right now, I think we've got something more important to deal with."

"Bacarov and I are both officers of the law. Technically, we have authority here. I'm not suggesting we arrest whoever is beating you. I realize that might cause trouble in the town. But we do have the authority to put you in our custody. You'll stay with us. Return to Magnimar with us. I'll make you my ward. You'll stay with me until you learn a trade and want to go off on your own. I'll make sure you're protected. Do you want to come with us?"

I held my hand out to the girl.

That I put so much into a single one post is more due to the nature of play-by-post games. Calwen would not swamp her with that many thoughts and information at once, but try to make an extended conversation out of it... but here in the forums that may take forever.

Calwen nodded as Warshawski spoke. If she took Marleyna under her wing and took her to Magnimar that would probably be the best that could happen to her. Calwen herself could only offer her a place in the Mierani forest, which was no place for a human girl; she would never be able to flourish there.

Alas, it might be tricky to convince Marleyna to take that step. Hopefully she realized that she was a victim and that needed to be changed.

She hoped that Warshawski did not actually believe it was all about finding Armand's murderer to her - it was about finding out what was behind that blight and putting an end to it. It was about people like Lyila and trying to prevent the things that happened to Armand to happen to another. It was about preventing the war in the shadows becoming an open war which would inevitably result in the destruction of Ravenmoor.

"Mmmmmmmmmmm <lip smacking> lemon cake."

- - - -

♤

♧

♢

Bacarov listens to the man give a brief dissertation on Ravenmoor. At the mention of Robb Bartley he coughs into his hand to cover up the invective that comes to mind. There was a day I'd tell Vinnie me and him should pay the scum a visit. He spies the women leaving for the river through one km the windows and drums his fingers along the tabletop. Specifically he spots Marleyna. Maybe that day will be tomorrow. Kid who can keep her heart gracious like that deserves better. Then Vinnie gives voice to the Inspector's thoughts, proving again why they've been friends for so long.

Viorec continues on about the town, the Dogwoods and Skender Cardzi and a Markham slip into his mind's journal for later inquiry. They'd be on his short list of suspects but he tucked his instincts away for the time being. For some, the painting didn't reveal itself until the colors dried.

At the introduction of his wife, Bacarov stands from his chair and greets her appropriately. "Ma'am, thanks for having us on such short notice. And if I may be so bold, you've done an admirable job of raising Ornigaard. He more respectful and gracious than most children I've encountered."

To Viorec's question, Bacarov nods and slips a glance to Vinnie and Dramin and Dalton. Bare with me guys, I'm going out on a limb... He'd seen the evidence for the past hour; the kid's behavior, the girl Marleyna as her fear dissipated in the Korzha household, even the appearance of the house itself. Bacarov is nearly at the point of understanding of the man across the table. But he's got one or two questions before he thinks a conclusion can be reached. Call him paranoid, call him what you'd like. Bacarov hadn't gotten as old as he is by not being careful.

"Well, Master Korzha, there is something you can help me with," Bacarov brushes at his lips to remove some cake crumbs. "I've heard there was a half-elf bloke who passed thru here not too long ago. I only ask because I know travelers rarely get out this way. Or am I wrong, have there been other strangers in town of late?"

Calwen sighed in relief as Mareyna agreed to leave this place behind. That would make things a whole lot simpler than she had thought.

"Good you want to go with Warshawski. We will probably remain in town for a while, but you can stay in our camp. I am curious to find out whether Dio likes your cake, actually." She smiled honestly and wide at her. "What I said in elven meant that my order recognizes you as a sister, as kindred. Whenever you meet a knight of the White Rose, tell them that Calwen declared you a sister and they will stand by you as though were their actual sister." Calwen stands by Marleyna's other side while Warshawski holds her hand and puts a hand on her shoulder. If she has to step in the water so deep that her tunic gets wet, so be it.

"When I was talking about a scythe I was thinking of a war scythe, a weapon, not a farming tool. You would have noticed if you had seen one. The blade more turned to the outside, the handle more straight and more massive..." she dismisses the thought with a wave of her hand. There were more and more indications that the village was indeed under the spell of an evil power which its people, knowingly or unknowingly, had submitted to a long time ago. But who exactly it were she did not know, only that it may be worth checking out the Dagwoods, but that may very well be dead end. And to check upon the mayor, his strange brother, and the circumstances of Miranda's death.

"Anyway", she said after a pause, "will you allow us to do your hair? Here... I have a mirror, so you can see what we are doing. And, of course, see whether we can fit her into that dress you offered, Warshawski. I would feel honoured if the two of you did my hair afterwards." she smiles, feeling comfortable in their little circle.

Some time later, probably when they are about to get back:
Calwen starts carefully: "On a more delicate subject: I wish you would not do it to take your revenge on Shel Lupesco, but because it is a worthy challenge, spreading beauty upon the world is a worthy goal. Especially in a place as dark and depraved like this."

She holds Marleyna's eyes with her own, even though that is apparently not easy for her.
"Maybe I am a shallow. Maybe I am naïve. Maybe I am a bit under her spell like everyone else. But I actually believe in Shelyn. I don't presume to know, much less understand, what she has done to you, but I cannot believe there was no way to get through to her. She may be a schemer and an intrigant, but that would not be a problem if her heart was in the right place. She does have a raw understanding of beauty and grace, if only I could get her to actually believe in it, not merely use them as weapons. She probably fears you, being lost in the cold world of the Lupescos. Unlike you she does not have the strength to hold on to compassion and honesty in this cold world. But that does not necessarily mean she is completelly lost yet."

Calwen had had the somewhat romantic dream to turn the two into actual friends. With the recent development, there was no space for that anymore. Two girls in a small village of the same age, but different like a warm summer night and a cold winter day in Irrisen. They might have complemented each other pretty well, if they - well, mostly Shel, probably - would have left some space for friendship. And given there very different taste they would likely not have fought over boys. That had probably been a futile idea, but she would not be herself if she did not believe in such things.

She raised her hand soothingly: "I said you are a sister to the White Rose and I meant it. If you need me, I will stand by you, no questions asked. Any implications on the way I am regarded in this village or my investigation are irrelevant, I stand by my kin. I just ask you to believe in your own beauty and be beautiful, inside and out and you likely will win. And please do not consider me a traitor if I try to get through to her and do not ask me to intrigate against her, because I would and hate myself for it."

She was curious what Marleyna believed in, if not Desna, but she would not ask her if she did not say it on her own.

Calwen and I both seem to have developed a little crush on the girl and her moxy.

"She's right about one thing. The desire to beat someone poisons the heart. If you want to try to win, that's fine. Doing it just to beat someone else? That's not the right way to go. Even if she is a stuck-up, cruel b~~#*."

I cocked a grin.

"We worship all sorts of deities in Magnimar. Myself, I follow the example of Ashava, the true spark. You might not have heard of her. Who do you follow?"

The girl was a wealth of information and, as I dried myself off, I filed away everything she had told us so we could share it with the others. The way no one ever called Desna by her name bothered me. The way they all worshiped Desna but stayed in one place bothered me. The preoccupation with stirges as pets and the half-stirge/half-men legends bothered me. The flayleaf bothered me, especially if so many people were blissed out on it after this monthly festival of their's.

Something wasn't adding up and I suspected it had little to do with the Lady of Butterflies.

"I wonder how many of the village's women end up giving birth nine months to the day after one of these festivals."

I mused out loud but the question bothered me. Drugging a woman was a common way to rape her.

Calwen raised an eybrow and cast an asking looking to Warshawski. "I would like to hear about this 'Ashava' on occasion. I cannot say I ever heard of him. Or her."

She could have sworn that Warshawski reveres Abadar, but that only shows how easily appearances can be deceiving.

She had heard that human women could become pregnant easily which would explain why they humans were at times complicated about something as simple as a bit of sex and had difficulties telling that and love apart. She certainly did not envy them to go through the trouble being a woman meant every single month. Thank Shelyn... no, thank Calistria I am an elf.

Bacarov was straight to the point. It didn't really take Dramin by surprise per se, but he was more shocked that the man thought well enough of his sense to do so; certainly there was a lot to learn from Bacarov and his methods if he was right in judging his talents.

He quietly sat. This whole rouse, while being useful, greatly limited his ability to use his spells. Between bites of cake and when he was wiping his mouth he would once in a while stand up and face the direction where Dio and the women went. The maneuver was really just there to buy a second where he could cast a Detection without people realizing he could talk. I'm sure someone will notice, but at the very least it brings us information in itself. If this man holds back that he knows he may slip eventually. His intimidating tactics and circular logic were the only thing he would be able to add with right now and he employed them happily. You can always judge the trustworthiness by what someone will tell you as opposed to what they hide.

When he sits back at the table, Dramin plays with the ring on his finger.

If the going gets bad, you my little friend will be the one shot we get to get out.

Knowing that his ring was capable of answering many problems he waited, judging the situation and keeping a spell on mind for the eventual problem that was going to occur.

Marsh chases the crumbles up off his plate with his fork. He intended to let his host reply to Sebastian's question before he posed his own.

- - - -

♤

♧

♢

I hate it when I'm right in cases like this... Bacarov drums his fingers along the tabletop at a faster pace, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. For Marsh, he knows it means the Inspector is ready for some colorful metaphors. Tell me I'm not hearing this? Tell me the scale of justice didn't just bottom out. He sighs, brows furrowed.

"It never ceases to amaze me the lengths people will go to in order to cast a shadow on the city." Bacarov learned early in his career that when conducting any kind of interview, the truth is an easier play than throwing your bluff cards at the first sign of trouble. Plus, the minor weakness you can throw in with the truth can sometimes work better than a boot to the throat. Now, Bacarov has to core over his anger with anger over Elias with a helping of truth. "I joined the Watch and worked to become an officer because I love the city of my birth. With all her faults, Magnimar is home. But every time I have to bring out my badge out in the field I feel like I'm ice skating uphill passed those who use their status in the city as a free pass to be an as..." Bacarov stops himself, letting his anger add the necessary flush to his face.

He pauses and takes a deep breath. Eventually an apologetic smile drifts across his face. "Sorry folks. Here you've been so gracious to me and my fellows and I'm trotting out a pet peeve like it's a prize cow at the market. Heh heh, my apologies. At the least, I hope this other man's methods haven't put the good mayor off of visitors from the city. And I suppose this slipshod tax collector will be another topic of discussion as I work up an appropriate apology."

If this business is true about Elias, think I'll take some time off to track him to Riddleport and put his b!&@!!!s in a vise!

"In the meantime, I don't suppose you know of how we could fix ourselves for accommodations? We might be here at least overnight..." Bacarov taps the table with a more jolly rhythm. "...or longer if we're able to stay for the festival."

》Sense Motive: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (11) + 8 = 19 (searching for truth in their story and their demeanor if it's altered in the course of the conversation)

Now she was starting to become seriously envious for the humans. It pained her to loose a promising young girl to their teachings. Well, there were some elven teachers on human academies. Building bridges between their societies was a very important task and wizards were outstandingly suited for that. “I am tempted to offer you a place amongst my people, but we live our life at a different pace.” She sighs. “If you have the talent you may still become a wizard. We may take care of that. Whether in the Twilight Academy or as Cipher Mage in Riddleport. Or...” she stopped herself. If she had the talent to become a wizard, she might have the talent to become a witch as well.

Elves looked upon witches with suspicion, because no one truly understood their power. There were many elven scholars who suggested that witchcraft should be regarded with suspicion and careful study. Others even suggested that witchcraft inevitably granted the powers of the “Dark Tapestry” (whatever that may be) a foothold in this world. But unlike humans, elves did not usually condemn witches or consider witchcraft as synonymous for evil. Calwen did not know any witches personally, but her order had dealt with them before and some of them had a pretty good reputation and had proven to be sympathetic to their cause, whatever it may be in the given instance. She had heard of a bonded witch, a half-human. A slippery little b!%$#, who loved to play the people who came to seek her out, but from what Calwen had heard, her heart was in the right place and most of her fellow knights she had played remembered it with a smirk.

“Well, there is more to the forest than meets the eye, depending on your perspective, anyway. And there are other ways than those of the human wizards. If you do become a wizard, I hope you do keep an open mind and heart to the things beyond the teaching of men. I mean, human wizards are smart – a lot smarter than me, anyway – perceptive and eager to learn like any other, maybe even more so... but their view is sometimes a bit narrow. Not always, but more often than not.”

On her notion what is supposed to come next: “That sounds like a gorgeous idea and I would feel honoured. Next time I am going for a travel, even into the deepest wilderness, I am going to pack a dress.” She found something she could use as a clamp to fix a particularly stubborn strain in Marleyna's hair. “Here you go. Hope you like it.” She picked up her stuff, got back into her armour and ready to go back. She had brought Marleyna enough pain for now, she would not ask about her late sister for now – if she interpreted her talking about Brie in the past correctly. She only acquitted her mentioning her with a briefly raised eyebrow and a subtle, concerned look. That could wait for another time.

She hoped it would not make things worse if she encouraged Marleyna to try to become festival queen and Shel won anyway. And Calwen was curious whether she could encourage Marleyna to pass on the crown (whether or not there was a physical one) before she left, should she win. Not necessarily to Shel Lupesco, by what Orni said Penny Loomis might be an option as well, but that would remain to be seen once and if the time came.

The girl wanted to learn magic. Interesting. I couldn't decide if we wanted to introduce her to Jodare or keep her away from him so she could meet a less arrogant wizard.

If such a thing existed.

"We've got a wizard in our party." I said at last, as I squeezed the water from my hair. I was glad Calwen decided to take charge of Marleyna's hair. I could only manage simple braids. "We'll introduce you. We have business here but, once we're done, you'll come with us and we'll settle you into learning whatever you want. You can stay with us in our camp, too. Your days of submitting to your father's fists are over."

I put extra meaning into those last words. Then I got dressed. Without the sleeves my clothing was simple enough. Breeches. A tunic. A belt. A pair of sturdy boots and my armor. Nothing fancy.

Once Marleyna was dressed it was time to try out dresses.

"I didn't bring one dress from Magnimar. I brought ALL the dresses." I explained as I slid the sleeves onto her.

Instantly, Marleyna's clothing transformed from simple to...

... not so simple.

Calwen's eye widened as she saw the dresses which Warshawski had brought with her. And while the dress she picked was not exactly to Calwen's taste, she preferred simpler elegance, there was no arguing that it was amazing and if Marleyna liked it, it would be perfect.

"I may have to offer Shel Lupesco my snow leopard cloak to make up for this." She tugged the edge of the cape she was carrying, warm, yet elegant, given that Shel was a blonde with similarly bright eyes as Calwen it would probably look good on her. "And we better figure out something for this Penny Loomis. Firstly for the sake of fairness, secondly because it may fall back on us if Marleyna is the only one getting such obvious support from us outsiders. I would not be surprised if Shel used that. The villagers will feel like being manipulated and distrust you, Marleyna, if is the only one to come in a dress - from the villagers' perspective - from a completely different world. Your wardrobe is wonderful, Warshawski, I am amazed you carry all this." She held Wasrshawski's eyes a while longer than necessary, displaying her calm half-smile.

The coming night was getting more and more complicated with every passing heart beat. She would not be surprised if they would have to fight for their lives before the dawning of the next day and it was very well possible that they brought Marleyna into danger. All those side affairs were too distracting her from her taste, but helping Marleyna was the right thing to do.

Dalton sighs when the man confirms - or at least supports - his fears. "We would greatly appreciate any help you can offer. I could sleep in the barn, I have before."

"Mr Korzha . . . What's going on in this town."

- - - -

Dramin looks about when their host mentions where they are staying. In a town like this, inns are trouble. Separate rooms means easier pickings, and that woman... He turns to Dalton with a look in his eyes, and twists his hand around his own head. Hopefully he remembers his offer to watch me overnight.

Dramin looks at their host, looks at Dalton and does a simple hand gesture indicating that it would be the two of them together.

The smaller area would also be much easier to cover with magic if need be.

Regardless of what was going to happen, Dramin was sure that this town had much more behind it, and this man probably did too.

sense motive: 1d20 + 7 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 7 + 2 = 12

Marsh wanted to believe what he heard, but wasn't satisfied with the answer. This man knew something was amiss, but couldn't put words to it. On a squad of watchmen the straightest member will be the last one to know if there is a dirty cop in the mix. Those that start getting soft moral edges won't include the squares in their story telling or shenanigans. This man was in a rough spot though. He had an outsider for a wife and a small boy to think of. Marsh felt responsible for them if the s~&& came down on them for their kindness.

He hoped the women weren't going to get the peasant girl beaten for their interactions. People got homicidal when you messed with their relationships, kids and pets.

Marsh merely nodded after looking into the father's eyes trying to find more, but not discovering it.

Calwen rubbed her temples. This was getting still more complicated. Marleyna offered Calwen and Warshawski very personal items from her mother and her sister for the festival tonight, but in order to do so she would have to sneak in and try not get caught by her father. Rejecting her offer would be most disgraceful, accepting it could bring her in danger.

On top of that the dresses would very likely be far to wide for her and she always found that elf maidens in human cut dresses looked like they were wearing a disguise. She liked some of the loose, floating styles, like an old Taldan stola and palla, which on top of that could easily be reaped to fit a much more slender elven body, but it was doubtful that Brie had had anything that would look good on Calwen and all in all it was not worth it.

“I would not want to expose you to the danger of your father catching you when I cannot defend you. I appreciate the offer, but I suggest we leave it be and confront your father with your departure tomorrow. Through the front door and you will take your sister's and your mother's dresses with you. Do not worry, I will not hurt your father seriously, unless it becomes absolutely necessary.”

Marleyna had been mistreated and had reason enough to hate her father. But how would she think about that in ten or fifteen years, when she was an independent woman that did not have to fear him? He still was her father and time made humans think about things differently, change perspective. Protecting Marleyna was the priority but she had no interest in humiliating him more than absolutely necessary. The loss of his daughter would be painful enough for him, even if he thought of her as an undesired burden for now. Whatever they may do, regardless how twisted they may be, in the end any parent loves their child. If necessary she would buy his cooperation with gold, even though she almost hoped he would not take it. Marleyna should not see his father virtually selling her.

“Are you ready to go back? We still have things to do and the others are waiting.”

Warshawski is around 5'10". A bit tall for a woman.

"Calwen's right. No risks. If you feel the need to get your things, the three of us will go in through the front door." Sending her in alone was tempting fate. Things are most likely to go wrong when you are being clever.

"I don't need a dress this evening, honestly. I don't wear them often and I'd rather be ready in case there was trouble. I hear some people can fight in a dress. I'm not one of them."

I threaded my scarf around my waist as a belt and slid back into my boots. My hair got tied back into a simple tail. Time to go back and join the boys.

♤

♢

♧

Bacarov lets his anger dwindle at the thought of Elias drinking the taxes away in Riddleport. There is something going in Viorec's tone that pits some doubt into the rumors.

"Thank you for the accommodations, good sir. You're most kind." He nods Marsh's way and still addressing Viorec says, "If there's something wrong in Ravenmoor and the people need our help, we're servants to them just as much as those dwelling in Magnimar. Any help we can lend is for the asking."

Bacarov stands from the table and smiles warmly. He knows the family is pressing against their standing in the small town by visiting with outsiders. "I think the only other thing we'd ask of you might be an introduction to the Mayor, if possible. Then I can see about troubling him for rooms for the rest of our party."

Based on his answer...

Bacarov will convene the group over by the barn as Dalton and Dramin prep their place of rest. As the others arrive he ensures they have a measure of privacy before asking Warshawski and Calwen how things went down at the river.

Marleyna considers the concerns of her new friends and relents. "All right, I understand. Let's head back, then, I guess." She smiles proudly as she joins Warshawski and Calwen in heading back from the pond.

- - - -

"I can do that," Viorec says after considering Bacarov's request. "I'm guessin' y'all will wanna confer with the ladies before we head across the creek to the Mayor's place. Lemme know when you're ready, an' I'll introduce you."

When Bacarov and the others head outside, they find Warshawski, Calwen, and Marleyna returning. Marleyna and Warshawski both seem to have changed clothes, with the Bartley girl suddenly clad in a beautiful and elaborate gown.

The barn seems clean enough, and well-maintained.

And Dio I hope?

"That was a relief after all this time of travel. Look who we found." Her voice sounds cheery, yet her face remains neutral and her eyes seem restless.

To Marleyna she whispers: "You better go inside, I want this to remain a surprise as long as possible." She urges her to move on.

"Something has come up. I am very sorry for the further delay, but I would like to deal with this quickly. I should be back shortly." Of course she wanted to deal with the mayor, assuming the others were up to it by now, but she wanted to deal with Shel as quickly as possible, as unimportant as that may seem in comparison; she meant it when she said she was not ready to give up on her and in the things to come she did not want her to be an enemy.

She gave Dio a smile (careful to not show teeth to avoid misunderstandings), touched his neck softly and motioned him to stick with Dramin. To the others she gave an asking look and then looked to Marleyna. Whatever you may think: This is a good time to say something nice.

Then she left for the Lupesco shop.

I admit, I felt a little strange not wearing my Sleeves of Many Garments. I had bought them years ago and they'd been on me every day since. They were amazing convenience, allowing me to pack a warehouse full of outfits into two slinky silks that I could stuff in my pocket as needed. I had to remember to get them back from Marleyna when all was said and done.

I waited until I was sure we were all alone, just our group and the girl, before opening my mouth.

Perception + Inspiration to make sure we aren't being spied on: 1d20 + 1d6 + 11 ⇒ (3) + (5) + 11 = 19

I'll continue assuming I don't notice anyone watching or listening. If there is someone, Warshawski wouldn't say any of the following.

"Bacarov, Marleyna's officially in our custody. You've already figured out what her father is doing to her. She's officially asked for our protection. So, she stays with us. She never goes anywhere in this town without one of us to escort her and when we leave, she comes back to Magnimar with us. She can stay with me until she figures things out for herself. She's interested in studying magic."

I didn't give them time to digest. There was a lot of information to share.

"I'll let Calwen talk about her fellow, Armand. First thing, apparently no one here speaks Desna's name. They all use euphinisms and titles all the time. Dream Tender. Slumberer. Marleyna mentioned that Armand asked about "the old Chenowitz" place. Apparently, local legends place monsters there. Night Creepers. Human bodies but the heads of stirges. Or maybe just humans wearing stirges masks. There's also a woman who keeps silkworms. Large ones. Her name is Alizna. It might be possible our webbing isn't spider but silk worm."

"I don't know Desna as well as I know my own patron but I do know her arch-enemy is a giant insect. A mosquito, right? Stirges as pets. Not refering to the deity they worship by name. People running around in the night wearing stirge masks."

"I'm not the only one connecting the dots here, am I?"

As they approach
Dalton raises a hand in greeting when he sees the women approaching. "Greetings! What a transformation you have undergone! Your gown is..." he searches for the right word. "It is spectacular!" he smiles earnestly as he waves.

After the info-dump from Warshawski

Dalton's mouth forms a grim line, nodding in assent when she comments on protecting the girl. He felt she needed it from the moment he saw her black eye, but didn't want to embarrass her by offering his help.

"I would presume Desna is not truly welcome in the hearts and minds of the people of Ravenmoor," Dalton comments, his voice sarcastic and dry.

♤

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♢

Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (9) + 9 = 18 (Aid Warshawski)

He takes it in patiently as Warshawski lays out what they'd learned and the suspicions inherent to the knowledge. In actuality, the thought of a 'anti-Desna' cult hadn't crossed his mind. Just your run of the mill psycho-backwater types looking to increase their life's lot by cozying up to a demon. Bacarov makes a mental note to do some research on Desna and any in the pantheon listed as her opposite.

At the mention of Marleyna's protection, he simply says, "Agreed." He didn't have to look back to know Vinnie was probably nodding as well.

Once she finishes, Bacarov moves into what they've learned. As he goes, he grabs his tobacco and pipe and begins the old habit. "Armand had mixed reviews here. He asked after the state of the crops and the history of the town. Then he departed two days later. Viorec guesses for the Churlwood which," He looks up from his pipe to see Calwen gone before saying. "That lines up with the time period of his passing."

He finishes the pipe and pulls a flint/steel scraper to light it. Soon the smells of cherry wood and rich halfling tobacco folks the area. "The Lupescus are edgy folk, with the cold-eyed girl Shel having a knack for cruelty. But they have the down home charm to play nice in front of the mayor." He sighs and continues. "Makes me wish Calwen hadn't darted off to make nice with them. But it is what it is. I'll trust in her thought process."

Bacarov puffs at the pipe and brings out his notebook, making notes as he talks. "Looks like there's a strange family named Dogwood up passed where the mayor lives. They're friends with that charming ferryman, Skender Cardzi, we met earlier. Seems most around here give them a wide berth. Might be worth a look."

"Then there's the mayor Andretti." Bacarov makes a note back on a precious page then continues. "Apparently he's not ill, but deservedly distraught over the death of his wife. She hanged herself, rumors are it was due to her not being able to have children..." He pauses, a twitch at his cheek. "...not sure on that one. But at face value, Mayor Kreigler is a widower. By Viorec's account he's a friendly sort, even been charitable to their family and earned their loyalty."

"Then there's our ginger-headed entrepreneur." Bacarov holds up a hand to brush aside some stray hair, the frown underneath easy to see. "He made it to town. From what Viorec reckons he was all in a huff about collecting the city's taxes. Demanded to see the mayor and all. It took Mayor Kreigler to calm the guy's flapping gums. Whatever he said, Elias left the next day." He grips the pipe stem between his teeth and gestures to the group. "There's rumor that he got the gold. There's further rumor that he started blabbing about a plan to go straight to Riddleport with the money."

He closes up his book and stuffs it away. "We can take it two ways; the rumors here and back in Galduria and the material in his room points to this guy making off with the money." A pause and he holds up his other hand. "On the other hand we see the rumors about an idiot as convenient. An easy cover for the truth we can't see just yet."

"Viorec says something odd is going on in town. We've got strange people and occurrences that line up with what befell Armand and points to something a heck of a lot worse than missing taxes."

He looks to the others to get their opinion and to see if there's anything he missed.

Dramin sees the women return and listens to Warshawski's story and hypothesis. If it is safe enough for those two...

He takes a deep breath, and his voice comes out like gravel, "Interesting Warshawski. To think that this so called girl-talk would yield so much fruit." His tone is neutral, as if he was trying it back on for such a long time past. When he hears about the 'Night Creepers' he wonders what those stories may have been based off of. Surely there was something in the past regarding these things. If they are real, they must be based on something else.

Knowledge (nature): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (17) + 10 = 27 Night Creepers and their potential existence in nature.
Knowledge (arcana): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28 Night Creepers and any magical stories on beasts that may have matched up the descriptions.

Perhaps he was too fixated on the things, though when she mentions the mosquitoes and the arch enemy of Desna, he feels a shudder run through him and it pulls him back to the conversation.

"This entire place is hiding something Warshawski and I believe it is linked directly to those stirges and mosquitoes." He absently puts his hand to his neck, "They were prevalent after reading that book, I don't feel it to be coincidence any longer." He doesn't mention too much with the new girl in the room, but he is sure they recall the prior horror that had happened.

When Bacarov begins speaking, he turns to him and listens intently. While he wouldn't admit it, the man did have a knack of creating points of interest to follow. This has gone much deeper than a little excursion to see how towns get blighted. It began to spiral out with those students and now--- He felt tired. Intrigue and deception was not for him, it just stood in the way of truth; another monster to be slain when they reached it.

"Bacarov. We need a plan." He looked at him squarely, "This place seems to have a web in more than a literal sense. Unfortunately, our time to pursue anything seems limited. If we decide to follow a lead and it doesn't lead anywhere, the very person responsible for this all--- and I do believe someone is responsible... They will catch wind and get away. This is no mere coincidence anymore. If it is and we are wrong, then all the better; but from what we have seen, the Aklo, the ritual mur---" He cuts himself off when he remembers the new one here.

"This place is dangerous and we should consider staying together in future."

He was really just stating the obvious, but with all the obfuscation in the air a simple fact helped him clear his head.

After a moment of quiet he turns to the quiet one. "Dalton. May I request that you continue my research for me tonight? I will provide whatever service I can for you in future." He looks earnestly at the monk when he asks and in a motion, pulls out his pouch from its hiding spot and the matching notebook.

- - - -

Marleyna pales as she listens in on your conversation, the realization that there is a great deal more at stake in your visit to this sleepy, isolated town than she had reckoned. Although she smiles pleasantly at Dalton at his compliment- blushing a shade, in fact- she soon goes and sits next to Dio, who has curled up in the corner of the barn, and quietly strokes the young drake's head as she tries not to impose upon your meeting.

Anyone present want to give Knowledge: Religion a try regarding Desna's mythological nemesis?