Dalton only smiles and nods at Marsh. Turning back to the campsite, he begins setting to gathering up the bodies and putting them all downwind of where they'll sleep. It's an important labor for the victors to dispose of the bodies of the slain, he was taught - to teach him and remind him that even victory carries a terrible cost.
Having fun bad-mouthing my procedures? Bacarov grinds his teeth and calls over his shoulder. "A good beat cop knows how to check the street before running his mouth too." He glances over his shoulder. "Their bindings aren't standard issue . I've spent time with the likes of thieves and know how to secure a prisoner. Plus, I'm not keen on ending up like the bodies I investigate. Check them, wrists compressed and elbows tight, fetters tight too. How about I put you in a set and we'll see how long it takes for you to break free and start pulling your pud on how big and bad you are." He turns back to the gnome and growls over his shoulder. "Try not pissing on my abilities, Vinnie."
Dramin doesn't notice the friction between Bacarov and Marsh and just silently nods to the bigger man, his face back to its usual mask of indifference.
"Well then Marsh, if you want to do a check on them, please do so while I prepare my magic tools. It makes things much easier if we divide it up as I need a quiet space anyway." He looks toward Dalton who is gathering the bodies. "We can do a thorough magical analysis when I return."
He walks off, purposely passing by the gnome on his way to his tent, his eyes fire for a split second. You allowed the deaths of students, knowledge seekers who could have done great things. May Nethys take your mind if you make it that long.
"I wasn't insultin your handcuffin Sebastian. It doesn't take muscle to get outta cuffs when you got a hidden key. I was tryin to show the kid the ropes. No sense in getting him killed by just followin examples and not knowin what he's seein. Your dad teaches that course right? I get the message though."
"Dramin ain't gonna listen anyhow. He can figure it out in his own way. I'll let you do your thing."
Marsh moves off towards where the monk has gone. He remains quiet resting against a tree with his eyelids closed.
The Update, Part Two - Spoils, plus a Rebuttal
- - - -
On your way back, you notice several large, scattered, monstrous tracks leading into the nearby brush from down by the river. As you follow the tracks' path into a crop of nearby foliage, you see a pair of pinprick lights staring at you out of the greenery. You hear heavy, labored breathing coming from within, and a pool of dark, thick blood pooling out from below the bushes. Whatever creature lurks within makes no move to leave its hiding spot.
- - - -
Before the gnome can answer any of Bacarov's questions, the remaining brigand leans forward. "Hey, lawman! How's this for a 'horse?' This whackjob is feeding you a mouthful of crap. This guy- look, I ain't no law-abidin' citizen, that's for sure, but... this guy's a whole different breed. You shoulda seen him in that est-yoo-airy place; chilled me straight to the bone. An' Akka- the poor ex-Hawk Tribe gal whose head your big man caved in- you shoulda seen how he got in her head. I mean, she was a psycho already- how do you even get kicked out of a Shoanti tribe, anyway?- but when he got his hooks in 'er, she went way over the edge."
The Professor "sneezes" loudly and suddenly, and shoots the brigand a truly demonic glare, but the brigand only sneers and continues.
"I mean, killin' dragons and sellin' their organs for a tidy profit? I was all on board for that. But the Professor here- , that's the little weasel's name- he took one look at those poor magic students and he snapped. Never seen anything as scary as that little man right there."
"Silence!" the gnome shrieks. "Do not listen to this man, officers. He is a common highwayman and obviously cannot be trusted. And I did not 'put my hooks' into poor Akka! You know full well of her mental instability! Her obsession with collecting ears as trophies! That woman needed no encouragement to engage in full-blown slaughter!"
The brigand nearly leaps up from the ground, his face twisting in anger. "Well, none of us were plannin' on murderin' those students! You said somethin' to her in that devil's tongue of yours and she got all crazy-eyed and started cavin' people's chests in and cuttin' ears off while they were still alive! We didn't sign up for all that, you insane old coot!"
The gnome practically screams into Bacarov's face: "This man is a liar and a scoundrel! You should kill him immediately! Call your thug and have him smash this criminal's skull!"
- - - -
The gear you are all able to scavenge from the fallen brigands, including the Shoanti and the Professor, are as follows:
"Oh. This is the part where the rats turn on each other." I loved that about criminals. They weren't very big on loyalty in general. Especially the hirelings.
"I realize that they broke Magnimar law, Bacarov, but the little gnome weasel here mind controlled a Shoanti woman and lead her to her death. She may have been in exile but I bet the local Shoanti tribe would love some justice taken out of the little asses' hide anyway..."
The Professor- Nettleby- glares at Warshawski. "You wouldn't," the gnome says, and suddenly the color begins to drain from his face. He clenches his jaw and lowers his gaze, and you notice sweat suddenly beading up on his forehead as he begins mumbling to himself under his breath.
Bacarov yanks a handkerchief from his pouch and jams it into the gnome's mouth. "Sorry slaphead, I'll put a stop to that." He's quick to stop the magic user from uttering an enchantment. "If you're able to spur someome to that kind of savagery, killing academy students, I'm not taking any chances."
Bacarov considers the henchman's tale, sifting thru the slang and extracting the description of the type of magic used. Something that kicks a person's mind into a fever with a helping of aggression...what sort of magic am I dealing with here?
¤
He nods agreement to her assessment. Then he gestures to the thug. "His story checks out clearer than the gnome's." Bacarov says to Warshawski. "Earlier in the forest, I found the drake they'd been hunting. Tried to heal it, sort of a 'I'm a friend' type thing while we stayed hidden. When the gnome and his group found me, I tried a misdirect, I've had the unfortunate necessity to learn Infernal in my past. So I got slaphead here talking in it and he was all sorts of eager to parlay with the 'demon' I was pretending to be."
He sees Marsh moving out of the corner of his eye. So does this mean you downed the Shaonti when she was under a magic spell? Bacarov stays focused on the now, leaving that lineif inquiry to his return to Magnimar and the inevitable trial.
To Warshawski, "So we have a gnome with a grudge against his old school, goes into business for himself organ-legging, then stumbles upon the Estuary. He flies into a jealous rage seeing students entrusted to the field..." He points to the dead Shoanti. "He turns her aggro, then sees to it the kids pay for getting what he never received; trust."
He looks to the henchman who'd spoken up ad is about to warn him to not stand, but he learns too late that his legs are bound and falls over.
Dalton is cradling the dead Shoanti woman's body in his arms when Bacarov gestures to her. Though he had been diligently moving the bodies to a place downwind, he had been paying sharp attention to what the investigators were saying during the interrogation.
He's carrying the dead woman away when he calls over his shoulder, "How close is this local tribe you speak of, Warshawski?"
Calwen was about to leave the river drake be when she noticed all the blazing red blood. That was not the course of nature, it had been hurt by men. She had to do something about it. Then again, river drakes are probably dangerous and she wasn't sure just how domesticated it was.
Had it been mentioned that the beast spoke draconic? Not that Calwen did, but if it were so it might be intelligent enough to realize that she was no enemy. Calwen climbed off Windmanes back, stuck her torch carefully into the ground were it would not set anything aflame and addressed it: "Hello there. I do not mean you harm, but you are hurt. I can help you. Would you come out, please?" She spoke Taldan, chose her words as simple as possible and her soothing tone obvious. From her backpack she took one of the two healing potions she ... borrowed from Armand's place (she took only those and the journal and while she did have a bit of a bad conscience she doubted Armand would mind). She held it up. "Healing potion" she said.
(aid Warshaeski on Shoanti)
He makes a good point. Can't say as I've had much experience with the tribes. There was a drunkard down in Dockaway we suspected of a murder...he'd been an exile but at least innocent of the charges. Bacarov waits for Warshawski's impressions of his summation and if she knows anything on the Shoanti, maybe he can help with the latter.
The injured beast slowly creeps forth from the brush, revealing that one of its wings seems tattered, and half a dozen crossbow bolts have riddled its flanks. Judging from its small size and proportions, it appears to be a juvenile. It sniffs around cautiously before approaching and staring at the potion. It seems almost as if it knows what it does. Its gurgling voice utters a few sounds, but you do not recognize the language.
The Professor seems to have put himself into some sort of trance and is rocking back and forth with his eyes closed. Despite being gagged, you can tell that he is still trying to speak.
The remaining brigand looks up hopefully at Bacarov and Warshawski. "So, uh, how far is that horse gonna carry me, officers? And hey, hey, I can tell you where the rest of our gear was stashed! What we have on us was just the bare minimum. We had a little camp set up not too far from here- not like the rest of these chumps are gonna need any of that stuff anymore. Whaddaya say?"
The way the little criminal was rocking back and forth and trying to mutter disturbed me. There were too many little niggles and broken rule in magic. Even gagged and shackled it was possible for the gnome to unleash some sort of hell. I leaned down and spoke in the man's ear in gnomish.
I let my warning sink in, giving the gnome the chance to make the right choice.
"Bacarov, the Hawk tribe ranges a few days to the north of here, in the same region we're going. The Hawks trade with Ravenmoor regularly. The woman Marsh killed was a member of that tribe. She could have given us more information on Ravenmoor. She had probably actually been there."
I looked at the woman's spirit, floating above the professor's head. I could see her, even hear her, but I couldn't compel her to talk.
I straightened up and stretched my back out.
"Getting their stash might be a good idea. Clues, if nothing else. We should take the prisoners back to that little town while we're still close to it... and decide if we need to knock out the gnome or listen to what he's chanting."
He turns to tell brigand, responding to his announcement. "We'll see, depends on if your unconscious teammate backs your story. Why don't you keep that mouth of yours shut for now." He turns back to the gnome and Warshawski, curious as to what the gnome is trying to do.
"No, an ounce of prevention..."
...
"We'll try this again when you're not being a sneaky bastard..."
Bacarov retrieves his sap from his hip pouch, braces the gnome to stip his rocking and hits the gnome across the face.
(bound gnome)
He looks at the weak results of his hit and decides to give him another. "You've got to be kidding..."
(bound gnome)
He watches the gnome for a little while as he speaks to Warshawski. "I've got little desire to treat with the tribes. But I'm not sure what sort of welcome we'll get in Ravenmoor either. Are they going to be willing to imprison these folks while we collect the city's due? They don't like visitors, much less criminals." He chews on the situation for a while, playing or the scenarios in his mind like a theater production.
"Now using that small town..." Bacarov considers the idea. "Not sure if they're outfitted to hold prisoners..."
(did the town have a shire reeve with a place to keep prisoners?)
Dramin returns from his tent, some time having passed. He was quite fast today and it pleased him, though he wasn't sure as to what the reason. Chalk that up for later I suppose.
He sees Bacarov and Warshawski still interrogating the gnome. His head shakes as he focuses to avoid the whole situation, as his thoughts on the gnome were abundantly clear earlier. Perhaps the monk has found something so far.
His small journey takes him to the monk who is still performing his ritual to the dead. "Dalton." Dramin looks like he is going to say something but upon surveying the bodies, he stays quiet and instead looks at the bodies slowly, trying to find anything among them that may be of worth to a mage.
"How is he doing? He refers to the dozing behemoth under the tree.
The muttering gnome ignores both Warshawski and Bacarov's words, and puts up no resistance as the Inspector knocks him out cold with his sap.
Dramin finds nothing magical on any of the brigands; the only magical fare they carried was the wand and the set of bracers the gnome had carried. Perhaps in that stash of gear the remaining brigand had mentioned...
Dalton is just finishing setting the Shoanti woman down against a tree. Her destroyed skull flops to one side, everything above the woman's lower lip completely pulverized. He sets her hands folded over one another in her lap and stands up again, crossing his arms as he looks down at her. He glances over at Marsh.
"Well enough. I don't think we've seen the end of the fighting between those two, though. This is just a temporary cease in hostilities." he shakes his head.
"I've considered asking him to join me in my meditations, or my morning practices. I think it would do him good. My sensei cautions me against...evangelizing, however. It's better to try to live and let live."
Calwen is shocked by the state in which the little drake is. Why do I end up offering my few healing potions to injured, intelligent beasts? But this was different. The drake needed help and fast. She held Windmane's reins with one hand so he would not panic.
"I am sorry, but I don't understand you." She pointed at herself, said "Calwen" and performed a curtsey. Hopefully it was indeed smart enough to not bite her arm off, the simplest way to feed the potion to the river drake was to simply fill it into its mouth. She uncorked it and let the drake smell it. If he plays along she fills it into its mouth, having a good look at its teeth and jaw while doing so, to figure out what it usually eats - a beast that lives from catching fish has slightly different teeth that one that hunts deer.
"Either way, these wounds need to be treated. That is beyond my skill, but maybe one of my comrades can help. Hmmm... do you have family?" Damn it, what's draconic for family? "Family?" she repeated more slowly.
She gestured to it to follow her. She wasn't quite sure what the others would think if she brought a drake into the camp, but she could hardly leave it alone. She lead Windmane a few steps and looked around to see if it would follow her.
And when you wait long enough, a suspect talks and options open up... He considers the little township behind them. "Wolf's Ear had a garrison..." Bacarov recalls. "...they'd be outfitted for holding these clowns until we make the return journey. And if we don't make the return...the garrison rotates troops, the suspects can be brought to Magnimar with them."
He nods as though the conclusion is obvious, looking to Warshawski and offering it up. "We gather the rest of the evidence, get these bastards back to Wolf's Ear. It shouldn't throw us off schedule by more than a few hours, right?"
Once they're in agreement, he'll make the pitch to the group.
The Drake downs the potion thankfully, and you notice that its wounds seem to close somewhat. It says something again, its voice clipped and difficult to understand, but you are sure that you hear it say "Calwen" somewhere in that jumble of unfamiliar sounds.
The River Drake is an omnivorous creature, feeding off fish primarily, but not above heading up onto shore to hunt for other sorts of game.
It cocks its head to the side at the word "family," and again says something in its own tongue. It glances at the river, in the direction of that distant glow on the horizon. It shudders and says something more, something that sounds hateful to your ears. Finally, it seems to understand your gesture, even appearing to nod its head in understanding. It begins to follow after you toward the camp.
- - - -
Bacarov and I were on the same page. We couldn't let our prisoners go and we couldn't drag them all the way to Ravenmoor through bandit country.
"First, we get told where the stash is. We retrieve it. Then we take them back to Wolf's Ear and drop them off. Agreed."
A little later Calwen approached the camp. “Good morning, my fellow travellers”, she called out, but not too loud, since she did not want to alert enemy scouts. “I have found the lost river drake. He – or she, I am not sure of that – is wounded and needs help, so I brought him along. Do not be alarmed, he is pretty friendly and quite intelligent, although I am unable to comprehend the language it speaks. Actually he seems nice, though that is hard to decide without understanding him. Does any of you speak... draconic, I suppose? He seems pretty young, I think it was best we treat his wounds, and to find his family. If river drakes have families. The problem with the larger bandit camp remains however. The fires of the attack can widely be seen.”
She sighs and rubs her forehead. As though she did not have enough to worry about. “We cannot linger here for long lest we are to be discovered. But we may have to go hunting. He needs something to eat.”
She turns to the drake. “Friends. Safe... well, relatively safe, given the circumstances, anyway.” She indicates putting food into her mouth. “Eat? Hunger?” She gets one of the rations for Windmane and one of her own elven rations out, bit an edge off the latter to show that it was edible and offered it. “He – she, whatever – is probably thirsty, too. Lost a lot of blood. I gave him healing potion, but he needs more care than that.” She got her water skin out drank a sip and offered to give some to the drake. To the prisoner she cast only a brief glare: “And don't you dare utter any suggestions as to what we might do with him!”
.
.
.
Hmmm, more concerns. I was afraid there might be more of these poachers about... Bacarov switches tasks and departs the unconscious form of the gnome and walks slowly towards Calwen and the drake. On the way he begins drumming a beat along his throat and releases a portion of his magical energies. In addition, he withdraws his CLW wand and shows it to the animal. "Well if it isn't my old hiding partner... Remember me, big fella?" He waggles the wand and grins. "You speak, I listen." He points to his mouth then to the drake then to his own ear as he says the last.
Bacarov stops short and crouches, letting the drake approach him for the healing.
As he waits, he mentions to the others, "What Calwen found lines up with what our prisoners have stated. That fire may be coming from what's called the Estuary, a magical academy outpost for studying these fine creatures here. The little bastard and his crew trashed it and then chased after the young drake here to tie up loose ends."
"On the bright side, a quick return trip to Wolf's Ear and we can safely ensconce our prisoners and evidence with the garrison. Plus, there's likely a hefty reward for those not on the job like Warshawski and I. The trip would set us back no more than a few hours, and we'd still get into Ravenmoor early morning as planned." He maintains his focus on the drake and continues. "On the bad side, we've might have more of these yahooes out there stirring it up. We'll need to investigate and gather evidence, shut down the operation for good." He glances to Calwen and nods agreement with her assessment. "Thanks for scouting the area. That's some good intel."
Back to the lippy thug but still facing the drake in case he approaches, "Tell us, chunmeroo, are you and your mates here it? Or are there more of your crew? Remember our ground rules...truth saves you, lies kill." He nods friendly to the drake. "Keep in mind our young friend here seems a chatty sort, so your tale better line up."
》Cast Comprehend Languages (30 minutes)
》 (awake thug)
》 (awake thug)
》
¤ ¤ (1d8+3 CLW | GM Budd, I'll let you roll it)
Marsh opens one eye and looks at what the elf has brought into camp.
"Heh, heh, great. We can go back to Wolf's Ear drop this group of prisoners off, commander their belongin's before they've been convicted, go on a treasure hunt, find an enemy camp, capture additional bandits without hurtin anyone while doin so in an ecologically friendly manner---go back to Wolf's Ear---drop off more prisoners, then go deliver a body to a hostile wildling tribe that excommunicated the dead person in the first place, fight blight, rescue baby woodland creatures that will later grow up to eat our kids on the banks of the river---find it a foster family if needed . . . and go collect back taxes."
"Hey anyone remember that guy we were Lookin for? Elias was it? Maybe we can work that guy into the schedule somewhere."
Vinnie gets up and appraises the state the drake is in. His hard exterior softens somewhat.
"Yeah, this one ain't full grown. Normally nature is best left to its own, but ah hell. . . Ya can't help, but feel for the thing. . . Hang on to yer potions, I'll go get my kit an sew em up. Hopefully Dramin can convince it not to turn me into a steaming s#$+ pile of acidic goop."
His humor sharpens as his normal outward appearance returns. The big man glances at his companions.
"I mean, wouldn't want to cheat Warshawski of her amazin day in court prosecutin people for justified self defense against mayhem committin homicidal maniacs. Oops there I go again, thought crimes of microagressin verbalization. Better add that one to my fish slip for the jailer."
Vinnie goes to his gear pile and gets out an extensive field medicine kit.
"Calwen, I'm gonna need you to be a witness so you can attest to me bein a good Samaritan an not annoyin or molestin wildlife or some s*~$. Hey Warshawski!? You wanna call fish and game and find out if I am allowed to rehab a draconic non fur bearin semiaquatic life form without a permit?"
Vinnie puts the kit out where the drake can see what he's doing. The big man starts showing the creature what he has in the kit even though it's obvious that the draconic creature has no idea what he's actually saying.
Those watching him long enough may recognize his tactics are those found tried and true by parents for eons and across all cultures when dealing with a child injured and frightened of the unknown for the coming treatment.
"Hey Dramin, tell this thing we are gonna fix its owies and make the hurtin stop. Hey and find out if he or she has a name too please."
The brigand groans as Calwen approaches with the drake. "Ugh, don't worry. I'm done with these drakes. You do with that beast what you will- I'm over all this." He looks up at Bacarov. "It was just us on this run. Akka- the Shoanti- she was the leader, and us four were her gang. The Professor hired us for this job. I don't know if he has a crew of his own, but I'd be pretty surprised if anybody out there could tolerate bein' around him for too long. He might talk pretty for you, but that man's got somethin' wrong with him."
With the ability to understand Draconic bestowed upon him by the spell, Bacarov is able to understand the drake's words. It takes a few steps forward, accepting the light of your healing wand, and begins to speak as its wounds begin to close further. When Marsh approaches and begins to treat its injuries, it allows the big man to do so without incident.
"This one lives at the estuary with its mother and its father and nest-mates. Wizards from south-city also there, studying and feeding. Two teachers, five students. Kind to this one, they were. Friends. This night the wicked ones come. Kill mother and father and nest-mates while sleeping, take wizards hostage, burn their spellbooks. Take pieces out from this one's family and put them in cylinders with green water. Big woman scare wizards, cut off student's ear before elf-teacher stop her. Little gnome burn him with fire-stick, smiled while watching. Students cry. I hide in back room, was there with student when the wicked ones came. Listen and watch while gnome makes magic, make big woman angry until she kill others. Gnome take parts out from them, too. Take parts and not put them in cylinders, just take them for fun. Then they come in back room and find me with last student. She try save me. They shoot her with arrows, I escape into river. Swim long and hard, even when shot, but hard to swim with so much injury. Can swim no more, go on land and hide in bushes. Try to wait till morning, but they find me. Then meet bush-friend, wait and hope. Sorry this one did not help. This one was still hurt and frightened."
"This one is hungry. This one thinks friends should let it eat the wicked ones and then go back in the river. But not eat the gnome. Something bad inside the gnome. Maybe get sick if eat that one."
The flies were thick today. I kept hearing a buzzing sound. Probably attracted to all the s$&& nearby.
"I believe him. I think this was a small operation. It would have to be, to poach on owned land and get away with it." I said to Bacarov. "The drake's going to be hungry. I doubt our trail rations will do much for it, though. I don't think we have the time to go hunting, so maybe it can come with us and we can get some raw meat in the town. We'll also want to send a note to the magic school, let them know what happened."
To Marsh's initial outburst she only replies with a smile and: "I did not know that you have children."
Calwen has no clue as to what the drake is saying, she has difficulties enough deciding where one word end and another begins in its language, yet she listens attentively and tries to mimic the sounds without actually vocalizing them. She tries to be as soothing as anyhow possible as Marsh treats him, but the being is indeed intelligent enough to realize Marsh only tries to help him.
Curiously she looks to Sebastian wondering what the drake had said.
The creature's story boils inside Bacarov. He nods understanding and sighs. After getting hs mind right he begins relaying the information to the others. "Looks like we've got something even worse with this gnome. I'll have to ensure the garrison has a mage-cap on hand. He's going to be worth a lot of information back in Magnimar. His sort of research might lead the Watch to other dark dabblers like him."
Bacarov grinds his teeth Marsh's way. "Do you ever just shut the hells up, Marsh? Ever? We get it, you're the big man on the battle field with that demon-faced masher of yours. Yeah, we get it you don't like Warshawski or have an ounce of respect for what we do. So at the risk of sounding 'edgy', keep your idiotic comments to yourself!!!" He feels like his head's going to pop. "Try and remember, after big mashers like yourself get done doling out the pain, it's folks like me and Warshawski who's left to sort out the mess afterwards. So let us do the job!"
He stashes his wand and goes over to Calwen while addressing the others. "Any constructive ideas regarding checking the estuary for evidence? The dead there deserve a proper burial. I'd like to then cart the prisoners to Wolf's Ear and deliver a message to Magnimar to get the gnome transfered immediately." He takes a breath and steadied his nerves. "Next stop would be Ravenmoor as planned. Puts us back 4 hours or so assuming no further trouble. We can dig a bit into this crew's operation, find out some more regarding the blight perhaps, then go into Ravenmoor all the wiser."
His guts are still churning. All the times I've stuck up for you, Vinnie and you've always s@$$ on my job, my love of the law. He glances at Marsh, then he suddenly feels weary. Think I'm about spent, mate.
Dramin sat back and listened to the men and women talk about the new arrival, he was still fuming at the gnome and what they did. He walked over to the shackled and down gnome and took out his small ritual dagger. He took a deep breath and remembered that the man could still be useful to finding more information regarding the now dead students.
He walked.
Overhearing the tail end of the drakes story he turned to it, "Hail dragonkin. We mean you no harm, I offer our names to you before you yours. I am Dramin, and the others shall introduce themselves to you as well." He points to the others and asks them to introduce themselves one at a time, Dramin translating for them, his whole time his eyes analyzing the specimen hungrily.
"Now I know this will not be enough, but we have what remains of your kind. If you desire we can provide them back to you." His voice is actually kind to an extent and his voice sombre. "However, those others who did the killing are in our charge now. We cannot provide them to you as they took family from me as well; fellow wizards and mortal folk. They must pay in the end." He takes a deep breath, "If it is not too much if you can show me the final resting place of my fellow mages I would be most appreciative."
He stays near the drake to translate anything else. Though he is lost in thought.
"I agree that time is in short supply, but I hope Wolf's Ear isn't far, we do have a hungry drake on our hands, and I am not ready to feed it the bodies of people, not even our enemies. Best not teach it that eating people was a good idea under any circumstance. A hungry drake whose family is dead, which will not make it easier."
She ponders for a moment and starts to assemble her composite bow. "When he said that they took parts of the academy folk I suppose he means the ears? I am afraid I do not have constructive ideas regarding a search for evidence, or burying the bodies, but if we do take that time, I strongly recommend that I, along with one more capable hunter, try to find something for it to eat, other than people." She fixates Sebastian. "You think this may be connected to the blight? Despite their detestable habits and their sadism they seemed primarily driven by greed..."
"I want to know what they were doing with the fellow magi. If this is linked to Ravenmoor it could mean many sinister things. Bacarov did you see any markings on the gnome that are suspicious or out of the ordinary? Anything occult or infernal?" He doubts the link but it could always be more than greed as Calwen points out. "Calwen, I asked the drake if they could assist us to find the bodies, we will see what happens I suppose; though I fear this goes deeper than just experiments, sold organs and a missing taxman."
Vinnie locks eyes with Bacarov's.
"I don't have disrespect for what you do, not at all. I didn't even use'tah dislike Warshawski, but you keep hangin around with her and she'll lead you to ruin. I didn't know you could thump handcuffed and bound that weren't activly tryin to escape. Is she gonna turn you in for color of authority?"
"How about this scene here? How are you going to present it objectivly in court? Dramin, Dalton and Calwen here all saw it pretty much as I did. Warshawski apparently didn't."
"How about you quit talkin for your girlfriend who's happy to let you carry her torch of righteousness for her while she can hide behind you."
"I've had her back plenty of times. She slaps me in the face you don't say s%+# about it. I try to talk to her about it, she don't even respond."
"She's poison to everything she touches. Manipulative. Didn't see me stringin some young thing along in our travels did Ya? She drives wedges. Doin the same thing now. Gettin you to think I am suddenly some kind of out of hand murderer."
"You may not like how I say it that's fine."
"I'm not gonna just let her walk you to an early grave and stay silent."
I couldn't help it. After Marsh's little speech, I just couldn't help it. It rose up out of me like bubbles in champagne.
I laughed. Long. Hard and from my gut. Because he had just said some of the most ridiculous crap I've heard in my entire life.
"I am so sorry, Marsh. I didn't realize I was stealing your boyfriend." I wiped the tears away from my eyes. "For the record, big guy, yeah, I think you murdered a woman when you could have subdued her and it hurt us. I think she might have been mind-controlled which makes it worse. I think you should stand trial for that. If the court rules it was self-defense? Fine. Justice served."
I shrugged my shoulder.
"Bacarov's honor is good enough for me. I trust his word because I know it means something to him."
As I talked, I kept an eye on the prisoners. I didn't want them to escape while we were busy infighting.
"And you have never actually tried to talk with me about anything. Not since this whole thing went down. You've talked TO me. You've talked DOWN to me. You've shouted at me and you've condescended to me. You've called me a b~&~~ multiple times and suggested I was a whore because I have deep religious beliefs. Never once have you actually tried to talk with me."
I shrugged my shoulders.
"And after your whole rant about good cops and bad cops and how you were somehow using crushing someone's skull as a valid law enforcement intimidation method? I don't think you have a lot of room to be talking about anyone manipulating anyone. Or is manipulation only alright when a man does it?"
"Oh boy here we go with the feminist b~!*%+%& again"
Dalton approaches the group, his work completed. He gazes between the two officers with a placid expression, his eyes carefully blank.
"We can worry about what we say in court when we return to Magnimar. For now, a hungry drake is my concern." He gestures back where he came from with one wide sweep of his arm. "Let the drake eat the bodies of the slain, and then go about his or her business, while we go about ours." he stretches his shoulders a bit, rolling his neck. "I'll be fully awake for hours now after that warm-up."
"Yeah well, you can say I didn't whack Warshawski when I coulda. I still don't actually hate her---yet."
"There ya go fella, all stitched up."
"Drakes normally eat just about anythin, especially if it's ah . . . Had a chance to age a bit if you know what I mean. This one's been raised around people. Drakes are intelligent like people. They don't run on instinct as much as other reptilian creatures. Not sure we can just release it. Might have to take it back to the college. You could take the organs there too I guess. Better than lettin it go to waste."
"Hey there buddy, you like bein scratched back here by your head crest? Oh I bettcha do. I bettcha do. . . Yeah there ya go."
Marsh looks at the group.
"Look, I'm not goin back to town. I can track back to these guys' lair and the estuary place no problem. Whoever wants to come with me is welcome. Sebastian, can catch back up with us on the road. I know he's gotta see to those in his custody first."
The drake looks back and forth between Bacarov, Warshawski, and Marsh. It cocks its head and looks at Dramin. In Draconic, it says: "This one wonders if it comes at bad time. Should this one come back later, when these are done yelling? Or is this human courtship ritual?"
It purrs like a cat when Marsh scratches it. "This one thinks the big one is not as unkind as it acts. Father sometimes puffed out chest when angry at having to take tests for wizard. Said unkind things and stomped about. But still kind at end of day. The big-friend seems the same. Should not yell so much, or friends might think him unkind for true."
Marsh continues to patch up the drake, doing a remarkably good job with it.
In response to Calwen's question regarding the Blight, he shrugs thoughtfully. "My line of work is based on connections. Living in a city full of secret cults and people who just kill for the thrill, one thing that always stands out are the connections. Evil's like a sloping pit, you circle it long enough and you fall in..." He waves to the gnome, "The youngling drake mentioned he'd be willing to eat all of them except the caster. Makes me think the meat's bad...and if that's the case then it's a rot that's more than skin deep. Like a blighting of his soul." Back to Calwen, he then gestures around. "I've read evil begets evil, so if this Blight is as deep as you think it is, it'll attract others of its ilk."
Dramin asks intuitive questions too. Bacarov is thankful for the opportunity to further distance his mind from the conflict. "Nothing overt, but he did start chanting. I've seen similar in my past so I doused his torch for the time being until we can sort it out. But you might have something there. Like the gnome influencing the barbarian into atrocities, maybe the blight not only attracts the evil, it enhances it. Good thinking, maybe we can learn more from..."
Then Marsh does what he does best, never let it go. Bacarov is going to respond, tell Marsh that yeah, he knocked him out, didn't kill him. And oh, by the way he was in the midst of spell-flinging but if it wasn't conclusive he got knocked out, not dead for it. Bacarov prepares to inform Marsh that he never expected or trusted him to show for court, even if the case would be dismissed. That's why he stood for him and the charges. He's about to lay into him again...
...but he stops. There's no changing you, no admitting different points of view. I tell you the gnome was casting, you come back with something else.
Then Warshawski puts the oil on the fire. It's sensible, but it's all in the delivery. Add to it Bacarov is just tired of the coversation. He'd side with the law every time, Warshawski is on that side now, but Marsh wouldn't see it that way. All he's seeing is Sebastian is being manipulated by the girl.
It's Dalton's idea that brings him back to the present. "Don't worry, Dalton, I know it'll be me at any sort of inquiry. But as for the disposition of bodies? Can't say I know the right thing. Your upbringing in Rhadoum may not have influence of the gods, but I don't know if we'll be pissing off Pharasma by feeding the dead to a drake."
He sighs and heads towards his tent. "I'll start compiling notes and get packed up. Dramin, if you want to scout out the Estuary, I think we can do that first. If burial isn't possible, then we can collect names for the Academy and they can see to it. But like I said before, it'll serve us to be wiser going into Ravenmoor. If it costs us a few hours, so be it."
Marsh starts in again, one more comment for the road. Bacarov just shakes his head. "Glad to hear what you will and won't do, thanks Vinnie." He continues towards the tents. "I'm fine getting these guys back to Wolf's Ear. I'll meet you on the road to Ravenmoor."
He pauses. Dammit I need the evidence. The more the better when it comes to cases like these. "Dramin, I know your passion for uncovering the truth at the estuary. If it's available, I need to have you secure as much evidence as possible. The mages at the Watch and the Academy will appreciate a much as you can find. We can take it back with us after Ravenmoor."
"As for the organs, the combination of their state and the tools used to extract them lend towards evidence as well. I'll take them with me. Certain techniques in the dissection might give us hints as to who trained the gnome in his harvesting ability."
He moves on and gets packed up.
Then the drake speaks. Bacarov pauses and looks back, giving the drake a clear sign that he understands. That's why it kicks me in the guts, buddy. Sooner or later you have to push the b&%*&$~$ off your life lest you always smell like it. He offers the drake a gesture that's says, 'stay put, we're done'.
"Yes. Most of us mortals are like this. Its a shame really, we could accomplish much more if we only ever worked together. Stay if you desire." He speaks to the drake in draconic, with a slight sadness to his voice, as if he realizes the fault within. He knows that Bacarov can hear and understand but he doesn't really pay heed to his reaction if there is one. He puts his hand on Bacarov and in draconic speaks loud enough for the drake to hear, "I told the dragonkind that if it wanted the pieces of its kind back it could have them, I do not wish to go back on that despite the circumstances. If it has any specific way it wants to deal with the situation... it is its to decide." His statement seems absolute and doesn't quite leave much room for movement.
"With regards to the estuary, you can be certain I will scour the place. If what you said about the gnome and the drake's appetite is true, then perhaps there may be something to find which can assist or demolish my hypothesis." He faces Calwen, "Elf, if you wish to follow up on this blight, please accompany. We have much to discuss." Dramin then goes back to his usual self, falling into his moderate and clinical ways like clockwork.
"Are you sure you want to split the group up like this?" I asked Bacarov. I trusted his experience here. Tax investigators always flew solo. The city guard were trained for group work. But I needed to be sure. "Guarding prisoners is a two person job, in any case. I'll go with you. The number of spirits circling the gnome are mind-numbing. I need to make sure he's on the road to justice."
The idea of splitting up sets off alarm bells in Dalton's head - he remembers his former adventuring group, and past horrible experiences that began with the party splitting off to do separate tasks. "I'm against dividing the group, for the record," is all he says aloud, however.
Bacarov shrugs. "To be honest, I don't really care." He says to Dramin. "If I'm not allowed to do my job one way, I'll do it another. Give me a few minutes with the organs. I'll need to draw them in my book and detail what I can."
"As for dividing, I'm not for it. But I've got a duty to perform here. The crime in front of me over the potential crime on the horizon I've got to set priorities, unfortunately. And I recognize that mine are not the same as other's." He pulls out his notebook and drawing implements and gathers the organs to hand. "I've an assignment to look into Elias, to assist in the investigation of back taxes owed. But there's a reason a murder investigator withba knack for puzzles was attached to this little cadre." Bacarov cracks his neck and sets to work. "As Calwen and Dramin have mentioned, there's something larger going on here. Homicidal gnomes, blighting, strange occurrences in the Churlwood...all of it pointing to this craphole Ravenmoor." He chuckles with no mirth. "Like those Pharasmans say, death and taxes."
"Like those Pharasmans say, death and taxes."
Calwen listens to the conversation and stands close to the head of the drake as Marsh treats him. Calmly and melodic as ever she starts to talk: “If there is a chance there is more to these people than mere banditry we need to find out. In order to bury these people a little help from the people of Wolf's Ear might be welcome, but we don't need them to trample over the tracks there.”
She runs her fingertips through her hair, pushes them behind her pointy ears, which move as they try to pinpoint the individual sounds in the environment beyond their group: “Given that we don't know what else lures out there splitting up might not be the best choice, but going on different paths for a couple of hours might help to put things in perspective. Thus, I am going hunting for now and will join up with the investigation of the scene later. If someone went to Wolf's Ear right now to apprehend the prisoner that would be a good thing, too. Be sure to warn the villagers that his display of harmlessness is but a masquerade. If you can bring some fish or a living sheep or goat for our little friend here that would be perfect.”
With a brief glance to the drake, which seems indeed amazingly well patched up she continues: “I'll be hunting. Eating the bodies of intelligent people is not something intelligent creatures should do. Whatever sins they may have committed in life is not for us to judge any more and there is no reason for us to defile their bodies. Warshawski... if you need another woman to talk to... I am there for you. You are most welcome to join me, even though though you might be of help investigating the site of the attack.”
To Dramin she says: “Could you tell him that I will bring food and that he is not to eat those people? What's draconic for 'food'? And that he is the most handsome river drake I ever met? Or the prettiest, I am not so sure whether he is a he or a she.” He was of course the only river drake she ever met.
“Either way, we should break up the camp first”, she says and goes and starts to disassemble Warshawski's tent with a glance to her, to see whether she is fine with that.
"I cannot tell a drake to not eat as much as I can tell a river to not flow. I will explain, but it will be your words and your responsibilities to hold true to the word."
He also explains the words, or phrases, for food and basic draconic flattery as best as he can as he uses them.