When Kazador speaks, Daisy shrugs. His 25 coins float over to him. "Then relax while we finish up." She winks and a pint scoots closer to him on the table as well.
Daisy looks at Perrin, somewhat taken aback. Then she shrugs. "There always be some that profit from war. Smiths and the like. Arms merchants. But it's hard to profit from a war ya lose. Nevertheless, there always be shady elements that can profit from anything someone is willin' to pay for."
Daisy honestly doesn't seem to suspect any prominent features of seeking to stoke a war between Helm and one of the greater power.
"My turn again. Now things get interestin'. What's the connection between this Elrin and the attack on yer town?" She leans forward intently.
Perrin nods thoughtfully at that, and for the first time he hesitates before answering her question, his mind whirring. If she is from Iustia... but then would she really tell us for fifteen pieces of platinum? And her reaction to that last question...
When he finally speaks, it is clear that he is choosing his words carefully. It is also clear that he's not trying to hide the fact that he's doing so. "Letters calling for the attack were... traced back to him. We think he might be a bit keener on war than the good people of Helm." Perrin takes a swallow of water, then looks up at Daisy with a slight smile. "And what about your boss people? How would they feel about a war between the big powers?"
Daisy smiles and nods graciously, adding 5 coins to Perrin's pile. "Thank ya kindly." She weighs his question carefully for a few moments. "They see such an event as an opportunity, as long as certain factors are in place correctly." She then leans back with a smile. "Last question." 15 coins float up onto Perrin's pile while 15 more hover, inviting response from Kazador."Why does the Elven council want war between the Bishopric and the orcs?"
Perrin shrugs helplessly. "You'll have to ask them. Elrin wouldn't admit to a thing."
"Okay, last question? Let's see..." Hmm... Perrin thinks to himself, what would Mel ask if she were here?
Daisy laughs at Perrin's response. "I'll be sure to do that." She puts the 15 coins offered to the two men back in her purse and waits for your last question.
Kazador sipped his ale, a look of bliss on his face. He drank it as if though he was in a desert and this was all of the water he had. Put together with the 25 plat in his pocket, and as far as he was concerned, everything was right in the world.
Perrin winces as he imagines the look Mel would be giving him right about now. She is pretty shady, he concedes, but how much have we given her, really? He holds a brief argument with himself, which both of him manage to lose.
Finally, he speaks. "Now that you've gotten some information from us, what do you expect your people to do with it? What's your next move?" He stares intently at the halfling, waiting for a reply.
Daisy beams cheerily at Perrin. "My job is to get the information up the chain. My superiors then sort through it and decide what happens. Personally, I'll probably be going to talk to some more folks after I report in." She gets up, sips a bit from a pint held in both hands, and starts to leave the room. "Good day to the lot of you! The drinks and the room are taken care of. Stay as long as you like"
Perrin stands with her. "Hey, while you're here I don't suppose I could interest you in a little side deal?" He pulls out the small polished stone Arla turned down and holds it up to the light. "You seem to have a fair bit of magic and money to spare. How'd you like to buy a runestone of power?"
Daisy pauses and eyes the thing. She casts a spell and turns it over in her hand. "Sure. It's a pretty piece. I'll give ya 300 plat for it." She holds up a substantial purse.
Perrin starts to grin but hurriedly changes it into a frown. "Five hundred."
Kazador’s eyes went wide. Such a fortune being so easily exchanged! He took the distraction as the opportune time to go for another ale while they weren’t looking.
Though the Colonel's guest room is well-appointed, and the bed soft, Mel's nap is troubled. She dreams, a jumbled series of unconnected images tumbling through her sleeping head.
Four ravens lined up on a tree branch, yellow eyes glaring malevolently.
A male figure hunched over in pain as his body twists and ripples, limbs elongating and warping.
Mel's parents, lying still and pale while human soldiers loot the room around them.
Mel looks down at a map of the world. Here the Bishopric, there the Elven Concordat, there Iustia. A drop of red splatters onto the map, spreading. Another. Another. Mel reaches up to find that she is weeping blood.
Someone takes her hand; it is Elrin. He leans in towards her blood-smeared face, his brow creased, his mouth twisted. "All. Your. Fault." he whispers.
Mel sits bolt upright from sleep, barely catching a scream in her throat. She lifts a shaky hand to wipe a faint sheen of sweat from her brow, shifts to sit on the edge of the bed with her head in her hands.
"Sweet Ostara," she whispers. "None of that. Let none of that be true."
Daisy laughs at Perrin. "If I were willin' to pay that, I'd make it on my own. 400. Final offer." After concluding the bargain , Daisy leaves hurriedly.
Arla then scoops up some coins for herself and breaks her silence "Given this strange exchange, I'll need to find you lodging someplace safe. Please wait at the Central Guardhouse until I return with arrangements."
Smythe knocks on Mel's door. "I thought perhaps you were lonely. I would be happy to give you a tour of our Central Guardhouse here, should that interest you."
He clearly wants the opportunity to show off his little domain.
"One moment," she calls back through the door.
"Wasn't getting any rest anyway," she murmurs to herself. "May as well."
Mel washes her face in cool water from a pitcher on the bureau, drying it on a fine linen towel left there. She looks in the mirror, pulls her fingers through her hair to loosen some tangles. She sighs a bit, noting redness in her eyes. But there is little to be done about that, so she shrugs and crosses the room.
She opens the door. "All right," she says. "Where do we start?"
At that instant, a rough man walks in the Central Guardhouse. He's not too tall, and his beating appearance is that of someone of poor origins. His beard is badly trimmed and the hair seems fuzzy underneath a hood. He carries a strange-looking strapped leather shield, but the only visible weapons are some darts on a bandolier. His outfit seems to indicate he's some sort of mercenary bodyguard.
Excuse me, please. - he says, and the voice sounds calm - I'm here about a robbery on one of the merchant lockboxes. Who should I address about it?
His eyes look around with curiosity - especially because of all the present, clearly dressed as adventurers of some sort.
Colonel Smythe replies to Mel "Capital! We will start with the entrance." Smythe brings you downstairs and begins pointing out minor architectural elements of his building with great pride. Upon overhearing the roughly-dressed man, he snorts. "I suppose you should address myself..." He looks with concern at Mel, not wanting to end his beloved tour prematurely.
"Duty comes first, of course, Colonel," Mel says. "The building will not go anywhere in the meantime."
Smythe nods. "Of course, of course. Well I'm sure whatever this fellow has to say, it's nothing that requires extreme discretion nor a lengthy conversation." He turns to Roet. "Well! What is it about the robberies? I know there have been a string of them!" The head of the watch looks very impatient and unpleasant.
Safely out of the Colonel's view, Mel winces ever-so-slightly.
Roet hears how Melira address Smythe, so he follows a similar protocol.
Well, colonel - I do have some information... About the Handle of the Reaper.
He paused for a moment, trying to assess from the reactions if he should continue.
I work as a bodyguard for the nearby caravans. I... Heard... From a bandit we... Captured...
He felt as if he was choosing too much the words and taking too much time - so he just decided to go straight to the point.
One of the merchant offices that was robbed by the guys of the Handle had an empty lockbox, yet they stayed there for several, several hours. I thought it was intriguing, to say the least.
Smythe arches an eyebrow in surprise. "That is odd indeed. Where is this malefactor now?" He turns to Mel with a shrug. "What but more evidence of my previous conclusion?"
Perrin eagerly agrees to the deal, and he remains smiling pleasantly as Daisy walks out of the room. Then he promptly collapses into a chair and stares in awe at the heap of money for several seconds. He bows his head as though in prayer and lets out a string of almost inaudible clicks, at which a small shadow darts out from beneath his cloak and through the doorway. With that, the doctor stands once more, ready to follow Arla to the guardhouse.
”Well, my wealthy limb-cutter, ye made out quite well! Where’d ye find that treasure anyways?”
Eve emotes a hidden smugness to you followed by a sense of surprise and then jealousy and the type of comfort she associates with dark enclosed spaces.
You head back to the Central Guardhouse without event and enter as Arla leaves to make housing arrangements. You enter right behind a rough-looking man and hear his exchange with the Colonel. You also see Mel looking less than pleased.
"Treasure? Hm?" Perrin looks distracted, as though listening to someone else. "Oh, right, that treasure! Found it on one of the elves, actually. The elves that you helped defeat. Which means..." He reaches into the bag and pulls out a hefty handful of platinum, offering it to Kazador. "Try not to spend it all on ale, okay? You should see what that stuff does to your liver."
"Oh. Um. Hi." Perrin does his best to edge around the discussion in the entryway without being too obtrusive. He glances at the apparent bodyguard curiously.
Perrin and Kazador walk into a discussion of lockboxes, unsure why it's happening in the foyer. Ev begins chittering and chattering to Perrin.
"She went behind the tavern into an alley. I was SO SNEAKY! She didn't even see me a little bit. Then she opened a metal hole in the ground and went down. It looked so nice and dark down there.... but I thought you would want me to come back so I did!!!" She seems pretty pleased both with her stealth and her self-control.
Roet replies Smythe.
Well, I believe the other guards on the caravan might have taken him to a constable or something of the sorts... I left before, and lost contact ever since.
This wasn't actually the truth - Roet knew the other men probably beat the guy to death for stealing, or hung him to a tree somewhere no one could find. Yet, he really did left before he knew his destiny, and as much as he could track the others - he'd rather not involve himself in the kind of hairy business that "disappearing with the guy" could lead to. Roet was, however, fairly interested in "fighting the good fight" and leaving the past behind.
Is there anything I can do to help? - he finally asked - I'm between contracts at the moment, and would love being useful and getting some coins in the process.
Smythe throws up his hands in frustration. "Well then what am I to do with this information?! As for your employment, I cannot offer you a position. But those are always available." He waves to some wanted posters with rewards attached for various criminals in town.
One of the posters catches your eye but you're not sure why.
Daisy is listed with a 20,000 gp reward. It was somewhat difficult to recognize her as she clearly was disguised in her meeting with you.
Smythe turns back to Mel and begins regaling her with the history of the architecture of the foyer. But after a few minutes, his precious tour is interrupted again. He turns with exasperation when he hears someone call out "Colonel Eustace Smythe!" But his frustration turns into surprise when he sees a woman wearing white robes bearing a gold-embroidered helmet.
This is a herald of Claudius, Bishop of Helm.
Kaz wasn’t sure why, but one of the wanted posters caught his eye. He plucked it up to get a better look at it.
Roet notices as Kazador approaches one of the posters. For a moment the Human ponders, but then he approaches him.
Good day, sir. Nice to make your acquaintance. I'm Roet Heineous. - he says, analyzing the armor and weapons of the Dwarf - I couldn't help but notice your interest on this particular individual on the poster. Well, I'm searching for some good coin at the moment... Maybe we could go for some hunting and split the spoils?
”This is for twenty thousand gold! Lad, the name’s Kazador. Ye think ye can track down yon laws? I say if Ye can we should take this to me friends and see if we can rustle up enough blades.”
Perrin listens curiously to Roet's story while a bat flutters around his head. He believes the stranger with the utter credulity of a man who has used up his last ounce of suspicion for the day. "Hi, I'm Perrin," he says, stepping up and offering a hand. "Colleague of his," he adds with a gesture at Kazador.
His attention turns to the poster in the dwarf's hand, giving it a quick glance. Then he looks again. He stares for a long moment, and finally gives a shaky smile. "Huh." He meets Kazador's eyes significantly. "Reminds me of a friend of ours.
Mel politely listens to the Colonel's demonstration of architectural knowledge. Thanks to his sage commentary, if quizzed, she could easily have explained the distinctions between and relative advantages of the techniques on display in the building. And if I live to be 700, she thinks, I sincerely hope never to hear the phrase "groin vaulting" emerging from his mouth ever again.
The approach of the Herald of the Bishop thus comes as a blessed relief. Not having been addressed however, Mel merely turns and observes her with interest.
Smythe talks aside quietly with the herald for a minute then orders his men to attention. Soon, the door opens again with knights in white armor emblazoned with the Golden Helm enter, followed by an elderly man in white robes with more knights following up behind. The man speaks in a soft voice that still carries to Smythe "Colonel, I received your message. We should speak in private." The procession enters a state room with Smythe then close the door with several of the Paladins of Helm waiting outside. The four of you are left near the entrance.
Several minutes later, an errand boy carrying a basket of sweetbreads enters the front door. He states that he has a delivery for an Elrin Weh and the guard at the desk begins looking through some papers.
Perrin draws a loose sheet of paper from his pouch and quickly jots down the information from the poster. At the bottom he adds "asking questions about the elven prisoners", then underlines it.
Perrin looks at the herald in curiosity, having no idea who she is. His eyes widen in surprise at the fancy people that follow, and he shrinks to the side of the foyer.
Once the procession has entered the state room and things have quieted down, he crosses over to Mel. "Hey. How's it been at the guardhouse?" His voice is casual, but his face is lined with worry. "We've had an interesting time." He hands her the scrap of paper.
The sight of pastries being delivered to a prisoner is enough to make even Perrin's weary suspicion grumble and raise its head from the metaphorical mattress. He peers over at the basket curiously, waving his hand and muttering.
The bread looks tasty but Perrin detects a moderate aura coming from inside one of the loaves.
I can definitely try if it'd help our cause... - Roet replies to Kazador, with a smile.
Roet looks at Perrin, then, and greets him.
Nice to meet you! I assume you're also onboard with the idea of hunting our nice girl here for some coin, right? Who does she remind you?
Roet steps back and lies against a wall while the paladins pass by. He lets his hood fall ahead and tilts his head to throw some shade on his face - he didn't have problems with the law, but was aware enough that his appearance and behavior sometimes would raise suspicions and lead to unnecessary questioning.
The man looks at the pastries with curiosity and a bit of hunger, but again keeps his silence. Yet, he's caught by surprise when Perrin starts muttering the words and gestures for his spell.
"Oh, um, sure," Perrin responds slowly. He shoots a nervous glance toward the guards. "Uh, it's nothing. Just one of those faces, you know?"
Perrin awkwardly raises his hand to get the guard's attention. "Um... is there supposed to be magic coming from that bread?" He concentrates further, trying to identify the source of the aura.
One of the guards turns to Perrin, not taking the young doctor seriously at all. "No of course not! Fool!"
There's a scroll of dimension door in that bread.
A burly guard walks up, nose to nose with Perrin. He sneers "Why don't ye take your country ways, kid, and get back to the country. We don't go pokin' our noses in everybody's business around here." He moves to rip the poster out of Perrin's hand as well.