E causes his mug to glow with a soft, drunken radiance while Rokan takes the time to survey the bone-field and to ask some questions.
The man Zantus referred to as Naffer says: "People in and out? Nobody, mister, except Father Zantus! Leastwise none I saw. I'll have the bodies of those poor souls who died today to put earth over soon, but they's still lyin' inside the church for now, right Father?"
Zantus nods. "To the best of our knowledge, nobody would have a reason to have come in or out of the cemetery today, and we've seen no one-- I myself entered earlier and approached the crypt when I noticed the door open, but did not go inside... as I said, that seemed unwise.
"As for who is buried here- it is a crypt that's housed the bones of many of Sandpoint's notables-- past mayors, the priest of Desna before me, and so forth. The Valdemars," he gives a tiny nod at Sonya, "prefer to have their dead interred in a family crypt in Magnimar, as do the Scarnettis as I understand it -- so mostly our little crypt is for people who performed good deeds for our little town, but who had no great family name or fortune for a grand burial, precisely."
As Zantus talks, Rokan's eyes rake the soft cemetery soil and grass. Sure enough, he does indeed find tracks: signs of passage to and from the crypt. Mostly it is goblinoid feet-- but the sharp-eyed Shoanti's hunch proves correct, and in one section of slightly-muddy earth he picks out the light imprint of a booted foot, human-sized. It could definitely be the same track he noted outside.
A quick perusal of the originating point of these tracks leads towards the town's outer palisade wall.
Sonya watches Rokan inspecting the dirt, and with a wave her hands a set of four lightly glowing orbs rise from her palm. They bob over in the air and begin almost a small dance around the shoanti as he does his inspection, shedding light across the ground.
She watches the open door intently as both her and E's lights illuminate the edges of the open crypt. "Do you happen to know who the last person was who was interred here?"
Seraka drapes her bardiche across her shoulders as she hangs about the back of the group. She keeps her mouth shut, happily playing the role of laconic half-orc muscle. She wanders over to Hundred-Feathers. She leans over him as he finds the tracks.
"Finding anything good down there, Feathers?"
Zantus looks on as the little lights float from Sonya's hands; the slowly sinking sun sends long shadows over the cemetery grass. "The last person? Hm, that would be Father Tobyn-- the priest before me that I mentioned. That would have been about five years ago."
He lowers his voice out of respect for the dead man. "He died in the fire that burned down the old cathedral, the poor man. He and his daughter alike. I believe she was interred here as well. Such a tragedy."
"Finding anything good down there, Feathers?"
Rokan shrugs, "Good? No. Useful? Maybe." He keeps his voice quiet, making sure the Father and his gravekeeper can't overhear as he points to the boot print. "I did some tracking earlier. Followed the goblin prints from the walls back towards their lair. On the way, I saw a boot print like that one." He looks back towards the bulk of Sanpoint. "I don't know how many people in these walls might have this same print, but I won't discount the coincidence."
He then raises his voice to Father Zantus, but includes Sonya, who seemed to have some knowledge of this town earlier. "Who might want to disturb the bones of the previous holy man on the completion of the new cathedral? We're there any against its construction? Or did the man have enemies in life?"
He steps nearer the strange burial-structure, squinting within.
The dancing lights around Rokan follow his gaze, and turn their revolving dance into a bouncing march into the open doorway.
Zantus shakes his head, seeming mystified by the questions. "Enemies? Tobyn? Everyone in the town loved him from what I hear-- I never met him in life; the church sent me here from Magnimar to oversee his funeral, and to take over the spiritual duties of the town. But I don't remember a single soul having a poor word for him the memorial. And no, the Cathedral hasn't any enemies-- if anything, it's been the one thing that the feuding families have managed to agree on lately! Erm, no offense, Miss Valdemar."
Sonya has heard of no foul rumors about Father Tobyn, or enemies he might have had.
Rokan steps up to the ajar door and peers in, with Sonya's lights casting a glow over his shoulder-- and finds himself face to face with the fleshless grin of a skeleton. A moving skeleton.
"Walking Bones!" Rokan shouts as he looks for a way to confine them to the crypt. "Zantus. You and your man fall back."
Rokan slams the door, pushing his weight against it as he looks back at Sonya and Seraka. "You two get ready, then give me the go-ahead, and I'll open the door and fall back."
Rokan then briefly details what he saw in the crypt, hoping one of the others may be able to shed some light on the best way to destroy these creatures.
|
The samsaran tightens his grip around the tankard's handle as he moves to a spot adjacent the door.
"I believe, friends, that we bash the daylights out of them." Leaving the rapier in it's sheath, he clasps a second hand onto the glowing tankard. "Or, perhaps maybe even into them."
"I hear edges and blades aren't as useful, though the stronger of us," he looks at Seraka "May not need to worry about it so much. At least, that's what I heard at the Acadamy."
"That makes this less useful," Rokan mutters about his bow as the team gets into place. As they ready to throw open the doors, he stows his bow, pulls out a club and scroll, and—at the last second—murmurs quiet words of power. The words take on a rhythmic, chanting pace, and with each beat, seeming like some kind of earthy heart-beat, the club pulses, grows, and grows wicked barbs.
"I'll have to get a mace another time - for now we've got what we've got."
Sonya draws her greatsword and nods to Rokan and the door.
Seraka straps her bardiche to her back before unstrapping her lucerne hammer. She swings it about in wide, rampant arcs before bringing it down with a thud on the earth in front of her.
"I came prepared."
She slings it over one shoulder.
"Gorum! Show which of your daughters wields your favor!"
Rokan flings the door back open, and the skeletons are revealed having crammed against the door, practically spilling out into the open ground with the eagerness to reach the living! Mindlessly they surge forward, the first of them attacking Rokan as soon as it gets within reach, but the others stuck milling behind their bony colleague.
Sonya sees an opportunity and steps back, dragging the tip of her greatsaxe against the ground, giving off sparks before a gout of flames briefly erupts from her sword, washing over the skeletons.
As soon as the flames appeared, they disappear again, leaving her axe lightly steaming in the night air before she adopts a combat stance once again.
A cluster of skeletons, a wash of flame!
Two of the skeletons somehow avoid the full on blast, but a third crumbles into incinerated death. The remaining two are rather singed.
Seraka strides forward, making sure to throw her weight into each step upon the ground.
"HEY SONYA. FEATHERS."
She winds up her hammer, focused on a last guestimate of where her hammer's going to hit.
"You might wanna duck."
She lets loose the swing with abandon, trusting Gorum's luck.
And Rokan complies. Then he steps into the gap created by the two devastating attacks. Quickly getting his bearings, he swings for the final skeleton's rib cage.
A burst of fire-- one skeleton falls. A Shoanti with a hammer, another Shoanti with a club--
--in less time than it takes to tell, the skeletons are destroyed. Poor E, standing and waiting for a dance partner...
Zantus runs up from the forty-feet or so back he'd been hanging once the violence stops, worried. "What's going on? Is it goblins?"
When the skeleton fragments are shown to him, he looks even more alarmed. "Undead?! In my graveyard? "
With the undead defeated, the interior of the crypt is empty of threats-- but not undisturbed. A black pile of something-- cloth?-- rests on the floor.
Furthermore, one of the wall alcoves has been broken into, showing very recent signs of damage-- tool marks around the edges of the hole. The light of Sonya's drifting globes reveals part of a carved name still legible: E Z A K ******* B Y N.
Rokan pauses for a moment in the sudden quiet, and he kicks at the blackened, smashed bones. He gives a small half-smile back at Sonya and Seraka, "You guys are like an enraged bear."
Then he steps forward, whispering his own heatless flame onto his club , which he raises to take in the gloomy, eery scene. He holds it towards the disturbed alcove. "This Elder Tobyn. What was his first name?"
But what holds Rokan's curiosity the most is the black pile on the floor. He whispers a few more words, calling on the spirits of wind and stone to reveal any magic auras on the black pile.
Then he steps in for a closer, wary look.
Sonya kneels and picks up one of the charred bones of the now motionless skeletons, brushing off the soot and turning it in her hands. She squints at the other graves around the room, looking for any others that had been opened.
"Nothing else was disturbed outside, was it? No disturbed earth near the graves?"
"I think someone might have left these here as a trap for anyone who came snooping."
She hands the bone to Naffer. "I'm not sure who these bones once belonged to, but I am sure a proper burial is still warranted."
Rokan scowls at E, then Seraka, then back down at the cloth.
Seraka slings the lucerne hammer on her back again, switching it out for her bardiche. She leans against it, a supremely-content-with-herself grin on her face.
"You ain't bad yourself at mixing it up with us bears, Feathers."
She idly scans the area as the others focus in on the cloth. She remains wary--and hopeful--that more battle might come.
Zantus's voice calls back from outside in response to Rokan's question: "Father Tobyn? His first name was Ezakien. Why?"
The part of the name missing doesn't appear to have been either time or intentional defacing, exactly-- just where the hole smashed in by the presumed tomb-robbers happens to intersect with the name.
The spirits of the Shoanti lands swirl and settle over the black cloak, and they do indeed find thin traces of weak, fading magic upon it. Rokan perceives no immediate dangers: he picks up the black cloth, revealing it to be a robe, human-sized, with a simplistic stitching of white skulls on the hem.
There are no other graves despoilt. Directing the magical lights into Tobyn's crypt reveals that the bones that once dwelt within are missing.
Naffer carefully takes the bone fragments that Sonya proffers over, with an awkward bow to her. "I'll see 'em in-tered, ma'am, yes!"
Zantus stands in the doorway of the crypt, looking both confused and concerned as the desecration is pointed out. "I don't understand," he says, shaking his head. "Really, the man didn't have an enemy in the world, that I know of. It was so tragic and senseless, the way he died. I suppose none of you would know very much about it, not being local, exactly-- meaning no offense, Miss Valdemar, as your family is very local, of course."
Zantus steps back outside, finding the close air of the crypt-- which currently smells of charred bone-- to be unpleasant. The sun is going down over the ocean, and Zantus gazes out at the red-hued western sky with his hands clasped behind his back. "Of course I'm not really local myself-- I only know what the church said when they sent me here, and what the townsfolk said. He, and his foster daughter, were in the living quarters of the old church, which was just wood... I don't think anyone knows what caused the fire. Some say a candle must have toppled over, others think a stray spark from a fireplace or the like... of course, there's always those who say demons must have been involved. But not every tragedy has supernatural evil at the root of it," Zantus sighs.
"This isn't really an auspicious omen-- the grave of the old priest desecrated," he says unhappily. "Between that and the goblin attack-- could I ask you not to let this crypt business be told to the townsfolk at large?"
"You ain't bad yourself at mixing it up with us bears, Feathers."
With the thrill of the fight still in his veins, Rokan can’t help but smile and shake his head. But the gravity of the moment sobers him quickly.
He points to the robe, ”That has fading magic on it. Can anyone tell what it is?”
He listens to Father Zantus’s story, quickly dismissing the rest of the interior of the place and heading back outside. ”I will speak of this only to the leadership. Sheriff Belor definitely needs to know.” He begins moving out from the crypt, looking for any new signs. ”So this looks like it was more than just a random raid. Too many goblins. On this day. Wth this body being disturbed and the bones being taken away?”
He casts about for anything. ”How did they get in? And out? And why?”
Sonya reaches out to touch each of the floating lights, which had been dimming and slowing their little dance in the air. At her touch, each one renews its dance with vigor, and lights up the room once again.
She looks at the robe handed to her, running her thumb across the stitching. She frowns and hands it back to Rokan.
"I'm not sure, but it was probably left by whoever broke into the tomb. I can't imagine anyone around Sandpoint wanting to get buried in this."
--
She glances to the bones Naffer was picking up, the smashed in tomb, and then back at Father Zantus. "Well... I can appreciate not wanting to startle the townsfolk any more than they already are, but I think they have a right to know about what's happening in the town."
"It might be up to Mayor Deverin to decide when that happens, so I will stay my tongue - but who knows, if Father Tobyn was as respected as you say, perhaps the town might have a few new volunteers for the militia."
|
|
E runs his hand over the cloth, pausing to rub parts of it between the side of his forefinger and the pad of his thumb.
"Dunno. Seems pretty dark though, with the skulls and all." he pauses for a second. "Hmm... dark... yes."
"Not that I want to ruin anyone's post-fight glow, but something strikes me as a connection of fragile sorts. Feather, did you not say you found tracks not belonging to goblins in the nearby vicinity? And this robe is too large for a human yes? This tomb also remained undisturbed prior to the goblin attack?"
He looks to Zantus' nod, but knowing he's going to get it, continues on over himself.
"My friends. A conspiracy theorist I am not! However, the circumstances warrant such a leap! I do believe the goblin attack was orchestrated as a distraction. The noise of villager's cries and battle would have obscured any ruckus so that this tomb raiding thief could obscond with secret goods unobserved, and do so without caring about the damage he left in his wake!"
The samsaran begins to calm down a little. "Sounds like the plot to some of those novellas at the Academy library..."
"It does sound far fetched, but it's also too many coincidences - why would goblins just suddenly attack, and on the same day why would anyone want the bones of a man who has been dead for years? If it had been a simple grave robbing, that would make sense, but nobody takes bones by coincidence."
Rokan nods agreement to the group’s conclusions, continuing to search for any remaining cemetery clues.
While the nature of the robe may be unknown, it's certainly ominous with its skulls and the like.
Zantus nods when Sonya mentions telling the mayor. "Of course," he says hurriedly. "I didn't mean you shouldn't tell those with the need to know! Only that this story ought not be bandied about carelessly in the inn, or similar."
Zantus dutifully nods along with E's theory-crafting, still looking perplexed and troubled.
As for further clues-- the tracks Rokan already noticed that lead both into the cemetery, and back out of it, seem fairly straightforward: a group of goblins and at least one full-sized humanoid entered, came to the crypt, and likely used tools of some sort to break into the niche-- the bits of broken stone suggest nothing more complex. Nothing else seems disturbed except for Tobyn's resting place. The tracks lead back out to the cemetery wall, and from thence to the outer wall-- Rokan's tracking of earlier in the day would suggest to him it was most likely the same small group.
Zantus strokes at his trim beard. "We should notify the sheriff, and the mayor. Thank you for your help-- I'm quite glad I didn't try to investigate the crypt myself!"
Seraka continues wandering about in the background. She begins slowing as a thought begins to mull in her head. She continues listening until the conversation is over, waiting to see if someone else would bring up the subject. When no one else does, she finally steps forward, raising a hand, her bardiche resting against her shoulder.
"Hey...wait a sec...."
She turns to Zantus, her head cocked to one side. She taps him on the chest with her pointer finger.
"You said he had a foster daughter."
Seraka's face tightens as she stares at Zantus as she prepares herself to ask her question.
"You find her body in that church, too?"
Zantus turns, peering at Seraka. "Hhhmn? Oh, right."
He scratches his head a moment, squinting thoughtfully. "I presided over her funeral as well, yes. She wasn't placed into this crypt. Huhm, I think I remember where she was buried..."
The priest leads through the cemetery to humbler gravestones. The grass has grown somewhat thicker here, and it takes him a few moments searching to find the right stone, especially as night has fully fallen now. "Here--"
The plain gravemarker reads Nualia Tobyn, may Desna hold her in peace. There is no sign of any disturbance to the grave.
"They said she was a beautiful young woman," Zantus says regretfully. "I never got the chance to meet her, obviously. Well, shall we make a report to the mayor?"
***
Zantus's presence grants quick entrance not just to Belor but to Kendra Deverin as well. The two accede to Zantus's request for a moment's time, and clear out an office to talk privately with you all in.
Zantus explains briefly that he'd noticed a door ajar in the graveyard, that Belor had suggested your assistance, and that you had helpfully answered the call. He provides a short summation of the skeletons within the crypt, and the theft of Ezakien Toybn's bones. Sheriff Belor and Mayor Deverin both listen with concerned expressions, the mayor sitting at the desk with her hands clasped beneath her chin, and Belor with his arms crossed.
"How troubling," Kendra says with a frown. "A raid is terrible-- but can at least be chalked up to goblins being goblins. If there's something more going on, though..."
Belor shakes his head. "Goblins-being-goblins strike at solitary travelers, or small groups on the road, or outlying farmsteads, Mayor," he says shortly, then clears his throat. "With all due respect, ma'am. But a raid like this? We must have killed two dozen of them, and chased the survivors over the cliff killing them as well. Goblins are mad little creatures, but they are cowards, and not prone to suicidal attacks for no reason. I wish Shalelu were in town, she might have caught wind of this mess."
Kendra nods thoughtfully and looks back at the lot of you. "You seem a resourceful lot, even if you're strangers-- excepting Miss Valdemar, of course." (She offers a slightly weary smile at Sonya.) "We appreciate your help thus far. Belor is stretched thin at the moment-- our guards have never dealt with anything like this before. Half of them hadn't even seen real combat until today. We're normally a quiet town...
"Belor said that you two Shoanti came on a mission of your own," she says, favoring Rokan and Seraka with a direct look. "I can ask you no favors-- if you have a first duty to your people, so be it. But if you are willing, I think we could use some people to try and help us get to the bottom of this. All of you, of course-- I only know that you Shoanti may have pressing business elsewhere."
Rokan is quiet at the meeting. Belor’s insights regarding the goblins is new to Rokan, but they do reinforce the group’s suspicion that the raid was more than just a simple raid.
The mayor’s shift to talking of staying on catches Rokan’s attention, though, and his features begin to set in a stubborn scowl. He takes the opportunity, though, to launch into his task.
”You are correct, Mayor.” He gives a gesture that includes Seraka, ”Our Elders sent us here to recruit this town’s aid and support in some troubles they believe is brewing up north. There seems to be signs of unrest up north. We don’t know the extent of them, but a few of the tribal leaders are concerned that it is greater than the usual giant raids.” He sounds like he’s launching back into a rehearsed pitch. ”If this is true, it’s a threat to all of our Lands, not just the Quah’s. With your aid or refusal, our task is complete,” his voice intensifies, filling with hate, ”… and we can return to where we’re needed. To hunting giants.”
He looks between the town’s leaders, willing them to agree.
Sonya looks surprised. "You were there during the attack, you saw the cemetery. There's something more going on here as well."
"If the threat of the giants is as great as you say, Sandpoint will need to devote all its manpower to fighting that threat - but we can't do that if we have to contend with goblin raids as well as whatever this... plot is."
"Please stay and help us, your tracking has already been a great help, we'll be able to solve this problem much faster. Surely the tribes wouldn't send you simply to deliver a message and leave if you had a chance to help both our causes?"
|
|
The samsaran holds up a finger as he turns to speak to Rokan, stopping as Sonya beats him to the punch.
"Should we not retaliate against these illiterate monstrosities, find them at their lair and force them to flee? After making them disclose their larger partner, of course."
His eyes lights up and he smiles. Holding up his finger and turning to Rokan again, he adds "And you seem an excellent tracker Shoanti, your skill could lead us to the menace."
Mayor Deverin looks mildly taken aback at the vehemence in Rokan's tone, but spreads her hands slightly, apologetically. Belor remains standing, his chin lowered to his chest and his arms crossed, grimly silent.
"As I said: we have no claim on you, Shoanti warrior. I am saddened-- and alarmed-- to hear that there is trouble in the highlands. But what Sonya Valdemar says is true: I cannot send half our town guard-- or even a handful of our guard-- off to struggle against giants, when there is a trouble brewing on our own doorstep," Kendra says. "A mass goblin raid, in daylight, would be disconcerting enough, but if there is something more sinister to it? If some evil person is, as your findings seem to indicate, plotting something darker? Sandpoint may herself need to ask for help-- from Magnimar or Korvosa. I cannot send our own protectors away to fight giants in the Shoanti lands. I'm sorry."
The woman seems genuinely regretful over that, but firm. "If it's supplies or coin you need rather than manpower, I may be able to do something. And I willingly would, for what you have done for our town today. Beyond that, I can wish you nothing but safe travels, Shoanti warrior."
The Mayor turns to look at Seraka's towering form. "Does your clansman speak for you as well?"
Rokan’s stubbornness is writ plain on his face as he’s confronted from multiple angles. He struggles to form a response, and—after a few moments—bends to dig around in his pack. He quickly pulls a pair of objects, both wrapped in simple oiled cloth and bound with leather straps.
He steps to a table. One object—the larger one, which moves like a bundle of sticks inside its wrappings—Rokan sets on the table. The other he holds delicately. Pain and anger flash in his dark eyes as he begins to carefully unwrap it. Inside is a roughly-made child’s doll, one that looks like it could belong to any young girl among Rokan’s people. The doll seems completely worn out. Faded colors. Worn little clothes. Hair matted with dirt and thick with a darkness.
”I have few friends. Markov was one. He was my,” he gives a word in Shoanti, then translates it,” … my hunt-brother. A brother to me not of blood, but of spirit. He and I were to accompany our Teacher to the meeting-place after the raids picked up. Sitting at our campfire one night, he pulled this doll out. ‘My protector,’ Markov told me, holding the doll jokingly in his hand. ‘From Issi.’ That is his daughter.” Rokan interjects before resuming Markov’s voice, ”’She won’t let anyone touch this doll. Ever. She sleeps with it. Bathes with it. It is her favorite thing.’” Rokan sets the doll down on the table, his hands recoiling back as if it could hurt him. ”She gave it to him before we left. To protect him as he traveled, so that her da would come back to her.”
The young Shoanti unwraps the second object, which does, in fact, turn out to be a bundle of wooden objects. But instead of sticks, it is a well made bow … only reduced to a few broken pieces of what it once was. ”This was Markov’s bow. He was the best shot in our village.” He gives a fleeting glance at Seraka as he continues, ”i was given my name Hundred-Feathers because I swore I would outshoot him at least once. I spent weeks practicing all hours of the day.” He gives a shake of his bald head, ”I have outshot him only three times. But I have done it.”
He steps back from the items on the table, his eyes lingering on them. ”We never made it to the meeting-place. We were ambushed in the night.” He points to the pieces of wood. ”The giant’s club that crushed my hunt-brother destroyed his bow.” Then to the doll, ”The giant’s club that crushed my only brother broke a promise from father to daughter.”
He looks at the assembled group (except Seraka), ”You ask me to put off my task to help your town. But what you really ask is that I put off repaying the giants for the life-blood they have taken from me. From Issi … who will never again see her father this side of death.”
“And my task is not so simple.” The young Rokan, as reserved as he is, displays his internal struggle for everyone to see. ”I was not tasked to deliver a message. A bird with a note can do that.” His fists clench, ”My task was to convince you to help. To stand with the Shriikirri against whatever threat it is that endangers the lands that is all of our home. And I was sent because the Elders know I will not abandon the obligation they have given me.”
He looks at Sonya and Esegia, no small bit of accusation on his features, but he addresses the town’s leadership. ”I was given no authority to offer agreements on behalf of my people. But I can offer this. You respect my skills as a hunter and tracker? I will help you find and repay the goblins for what they have done inside these walls. And I will help you find the person who left that boot print.” He looks at Belor and Deverin, his eyes intense and unwavering, ”And you will agree to help the Shriikirri … in whatever ways you can. And you will not delay.” He points out behind himself, to the town beyond, ”You have a responsibility to these people. I understand that. But I fear time is against my people, too. I will help you now. Swiftly. And you will help the Shriikirr. Swiftly.”
Listening to Feathers tell his story and give his position, Seraka chews over some thoughts like an oversized piece of tobacco. Several times throughout his story, Seraka nods, multiple interactions with Feathers finally having context. She finally stands and slaps the table with her palm to lay claim to the floor.
"Feathers gets all the big Duty and Honor stuff with his story. I just got three words for you to remember: Giants. Are. A#$*+#&s." She makes a chopping motion with her hands to emphasize each of the three words.
"They will come through and break everything and everyone. I fought my share in the arena in Magnimar, so I know. They will be your problem before too long if we don't chop them down to size soon."
She grins and sits back down, leaning back in her chair.
"Lucky for you Sandpoint folks, I'd like some practice before moving on to the bigger game. Just hope we get this situation resolved before the bigger game comes to all of us."
Rokan nods over at the much larger Shaonti, grateful for her show of solidarity as he awaits the response of Sandpoint’s leaders.
Sonya listens to Rokan's story, her face a mixture of sadness and anger towards the damage the giants had done - and would continue to do, as it sounded.
"I took an oath to protect the innocent - whether the live in this city or not. Once Sandpoint is safe, I will do everything in my power to help you, Rokan."
Mayor Deverin listens soberly, her hands clasped on the desk before her. Belor's chin remains at his chest, but Rokan can see the occasional dark flash of his eyes up towards the broken bow, the ragged doll.
In the silence that follows Rokan's words, as well as those of the two women, Kendra Deverin gently touches the broken doll.
"Your words are heard, Shoanti. The words of both of you.
"If you will help us seek the cause of this... attack today, and help make us safe against those responsible-- then you have my word that Sandpoint will do all that we can to aid your quah. I so swear it by the Master of the First Vault, who observes all deals."
Belor pushes off from the wall, rubbing at his jaw. "My guard know nothing of fighting giants," he rumbles, looking at Rokan, "....but perhaps they can be taught. I shall see about increasing the training. That should be done in any case; it will simply include more lessons on aiming higher." A grim smile briefly crosses his face; he nods to Kendra, and to the party, and turns to leave .
Mayor Deverin folds her hands on the desk's top. "I understand you already have lodgings, at the Rusty Dragon, those of you who are visitors here. I suppose there is not much tracking that can be done at night. If you have further questions I can answer for you, please, I'm at your disposal if it will help us get to the bottom of this-- otherwise I'll bid you goodnight, and pray that the morrow brings clues by daylight."
Rokan bows respectfully to the mayor’s agreement, delicately re-wraping and putting away both doll and broken bow. He doesn’t look happy … just resolute.
”I suppose there is not much tracking that can be done at night.”
Rokan considers, ”You are likely right. I could search more, but the light—and my own fatigue—is against me. If you want, I can take another scouting trip out in the morning, though time and nature have a way of covering clues.” He pauses, looking between the mayor and Belor, ”We will await word from you in the morning, unless you have a task in mind already?”
As Belor leaves, Rokan gets his attention. ”If your men are to fight giants, please know that I am available to give them any help they want. I have only fought giants a few times, but anything to help your men, I will give.”
|
|
My guard know nothing of fighting giants," he rumbles, looking at Rokan, "....but perhaps they can be taught. I shall see about increasing the training. That should be done in any case; it will simply include more lessons on aiming higher.""
E lets out a delighted laugh, finding amusement in the simplicity of Belor's joke. "Well done!"
Lowering his volume back to normal, "I am glad that our little band of travelers is still traveling as a band! I'm looking forward to a hearty meal, a soft bed, and some drink to wash away the taste of that foul fight. In the morning, we move to find out the who, what, where, when and why of today, yes?"
He takes a drink from his mug, pale foam highlighting his soft blue skin, "Should be exciting!"
Rokan gives E a disbelieving shake of his head, though he can't keep the grin off his face. "You have a strange sense of what's exciting, Esegia."
Then he turns to Sonya, "And I know my people would appreciate any help you can give." His stony reserve softens, "... as would I."