Another day dawns at the edges of the Verduran forest. The night's pouring rain fled as the sun's first rays were cast on the dark clouds, and the fresh scent of leaves and grass greets you. A delightful spring morning, showing how the nature is waking up and preparing for the Summer, to bloom in full glory. Some songbirds play their calming tune on the treetops, their song echoing in the hilly terrain.
The caravan, consisting of the four persons recruited as caravan guards and the caravan leader, Silas Gribb, has found shelter under a tall, broad oak with heavy, bushy branches. The thick cover of leaves has left the campsite relatively dry dispite the rain. The smallish caravan has only two horses, a large carriage with seats on the sides for the guards to rest their feet. The cargo itself is packed tight with a large blanket covering the crates completely. Even at the beginning of the journey from Maheto, Silas Gribb, the caravan leader, has been protective about the content of the merchandise. "Weapons," he has told everyone again and again, and of course, Maheto's main export product is weaponry. But he has promised a lucrative deal to the guards, having given them a healthy startup gold to gear up for the trip.
Silas Gribb is already up and drying out the tents. The short, stout man is bald but has a long, unkempt moustache, and sports a begrudging expression nigh all times. No wonder, that, as he has told tales of gruesome fights in which he has earned his formidable scars. It comes as no surprise Silas Gribb is a fighter at heart, and never leaves himself unarmed, not even when asleep. A dagger in the boot, one strapped to his left thigh, and many other weapons that are surely hidden somewhere on his body. Coming fom Maheto, the center of armament production, it's cheap and easy to find a weapon for each of your limb, and more.
"Hurry up now," Silas Gribb rushes, "the good weather won't cherish us indefinitely. We're about to enter the Verduran forest, and that's when friendly field neighbourhood ends. All kinds of dangers lurk behind the trees. Highwaymen are the least of our troubles, really. Those pesky fey and their territorial disputes..." The caravan leader kneels down to roll the dried up tent and strap it close tight.
"And a good morning to you too, Silas," the man who is known as 'Copper' quips to the caravan leader with a smile. "You seem to be warm and grumbly this morning. Fine attitude for one who took a few more of my soon to be hard earned gold pieces last night."
Without the context of his playful smile and light tone, one might think Copper was being a bit of a sore loser, but that is not the case on the bright and cheery morning.
Copper rolls up his bedroll, whistling along with the birds as they flit and chirp in the branches above.
"Fey you say?" he questions offhand. "Don't suppose you have any cold iron in those crates?" Copper cracks a grin, wondering if this time, the umpteenth time he has asked, will finally send Gribb over the edge.
People aren't themselves when they lose their temper. They are impetuous, and prone to rash decisions. Ripe for upping the ante.
It isn't long before Peka's meager belongings are strapped up and hanging from his back again. He checks his pouch one more time, taking a deep breath when he doesn't even see his nick-namesake in the leather folds.
"Hey boys, whaddya think. Fey?" He turns to the others who have been hired on to this caravan as well.
Silas glances at Peka. By now he knows well how eager he is to gamble, and takes to his own advantage, of course. Silas lets out an amused sneer.
"Just stating the facts, Copper. And carrying cold iron weapons through Verduran forest is a two-edged sword; the weapons themselves are effective against the blasted fey, that I admit, but similarly it invokes hostility. So better just for me to keep the blanket on." The caravan leader lifts the packed tent aboard the carriage and pats the covered wooden crates.
"Fair enough" Copper says with a chuckle.
He hefts his pack onto his shoulders, hooking his thumbs under the straps and pulling down, forcing the weight more evenly across his back while he leans forward slightly, waiting patiently for Silas to give the tell-tale clucking sound to his horses to set them on their way.
He looks up to the trees above him, admiring the dance of the birds and their enchanting song. He purses his lips, and does his best to whistle along.
The sooner we are in that forest, the sooner I am away from my latest debts. Guess I'm not going back to that town anytime soon. Or ever.
Copper looks down at his fabric wrapped knuckles, the tattered threads covering the scars and mis-shapen fingers of a thousand fist fights.
I guess not everyone likes my smile. Seems they wanna hit me no matter what. I win? They accuse me of cheating. I lose? Well, you can't get blood from a turnip any more than you can get copper from an empty pocket. Heh.
Copper continues his soft whistling as he begins to wander a few feet ahead of the wagon, staring up at the trees.
Thorvalt rubbed his pounding head. His "grandfather" was getting started early today. His great-grandfather was an inquisitor of Droskar in life years ago and did not believe in leisurely mornings, or leisurely anything for that matter.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up" Pelligar muttered to himself to the ancestor knocking about in his head. A single barrel of ale was why he was leaving Maheto. A gift from one temple of Cayden Cailean to another. Fine ale, but Thorvalt had the sinking suspicion that it was because Brother Veyn discovered the truth about Thorvalt's headaches. Easier to move him out of the brewery and make him someone else's problem. As always, Grandfather Nortom made his life more difficult.
"No rest for the wicked, I imagine," Thorvalt said, trying to perk himself up, "I suppose it would be bad manners to tap the keg before we arrive in Wispil."
A raven-haired woman yawns from behind her hand, leaning on the tree. Dressed in a simple black dress, she shakes her hair, and raises a thick leather falconer's glove. A hawk's cry is heard as an animal lands on the glove, claws digging deep into the leather.
Taking a few slow steps towards the caravan, she sighs, perhaps a bit too theatrically. "Fighting the fey is futule, darling...", she says, tossing a look at the blond man. "If you ask me, it's much easier and simpler to entertain them.", she pauses, before sending a cold smile at Peka. "Childish goading attempts may work, for instance, or asking repetitive questions. You should try those, should we meet some."
She takes a small wrap and puts in on her shoulder, then strings a small crossbow and puts it across her back. I can't wait to leave these woods and find a decent teacher..., she thinks, staring at the forest.
"You think the questions would do the trick?" Copper asks the snarky woman.
"I can goad. If anyone can goad, it's me." He tosses her a playful wink.
Who wears a dress in the woods? Copper takes a moment to look her up and down. A lady... That's who.
Favoring her with another wink, he walks by and reaches out to pet the majestic bird. Copper pulls his hands back quickly to avoid the inevitable snap of the razor sharp beak at his outstretched fingers.
He takes that same hand and non-chalantly runs his fingers through his hair, as if that is what he meant to do all along.
"Bad manners Thorvalt? Nay, it would be bad manners to serve them spoiled ale! We should test it, make sure its still good." He favors the dwarf with a wide grin.
"Ha! Don't worry grumpy gus. I'm just kidding. Unless you say yes. Then I'm not kidding. I explained the joke again didn't I? So awkward. Ale? Water? I guess we are moving soon. Ale later."
A man in browns and greens appears silently from the woods. This might be alarming, if the man hadn't done the same on each morning of their travels. Bow on his shoulder, the man walks over to the fireplace, and drops down a freshly hunted rabbit.
"Found this during my prayers. Thought it might be a nice change for the trail rations."
Supposedly he is a priest. But truth to be told, he doesn't look very priestly. His dull eyes, scarred face and greasy hair look anything but holy. And should he give a sermon with his droning voice, one must be a saint to stay awake. The symbol hanging around his neck represents a bow and a half-nocked arrow, so the man must Erastil as his patron.
"We should be going. More daylight hours for our travels. Whether fey or highwaymen, I'd rather meet them when it's not dark"
"Right you are, man of the wild," Silas comments on Benedict's words. Being the caravan leader, he is keen to make sure even his employees are well-equipped, and takes a long, hard look at Rose. "I strongly advise you to don something that won't tangle in the brush, lady. It's not a dress code, only an advice. You don't want that to shred, after all."
Once everyone is finally ready to continue the arduous journey, Silas Gribb goes over to the campfire, making sure it doesn't appear all that recent, and sets off as the driver of the carriage. The horses pull the heavy wagon slowly, and reach the maximum speed; walking pace. Still, it beats walking on the narrow trail, which happens to be very muddy after the night's rain. Luckily the sun shines brightly, and overall the weather is very pleasant.
"From here on it'll be at least a hundred miles before we reach the Verduran Fork. And another hundred miles to Wispil. There aren't many settlements on the way, some small inns and taverns that somehow survive among the hungry woods. I'd advise against staying in those; they tend to lure a lot of outlaws in hiding, as you can imagine." Silas takes another look at Rose, she being the only female in the group. "And as you know, most men aren't as polite as the ones huddled around you now." He flashes an unusual grin, one that's good-natured, but maybe a bit on the disturbing side. Regardless, he turns back to face the road ahead, chuckling lightly.
Rose returns a polite smile to Silas. "Thank you for the concern, Master Silas." The hawk flies off and perches on the wagon, keeping an eye on the conversation. She smiles. "Though while someone's been telling me this ever since I joined, I can't help but notice that my clothes seem to be the only ones intact. Or clean, for that matter.", she retorts, pointing towards several suspicious stains on Thorvald's shirt.
Her eyes flash for a moment, before another courteous smile appears on her lips. "I was utterly surprised by your courteous manners, it's true. I do find your colourful vocabulary quite lacking, however. I only learned one new word, and I suspect it's being made up.", she says, returning the man's stare.
As the wagon departs, she sits on the edge, pulling out a small book, and starts reading. The hawk continues its watch. After a while, she raises her head. "Do check the food you salvage by me. Food poisoning is not something you want while on a wagon."
Ha! Now there is a man who can get along in the wild. So glad we hired you too. Peka rubs his hands together at the thought of the meal.
He finds convenient ways to not really do anything to help prepare it, always deferring that someone else is better at this.
He chuckles at Rose's banter with the caravan leader. C'mon darlin, what fun is life if you can't get a little dirty? He says with a wink.
Now don't get crass... we still have a long ways to go. And she hasn't shot you down yet. Well, except for those first two times. Third time is a charm, right? Just like at the tables.
"Oh, do you not see well in the dark?" Thorvalt says to Benedict. He shakes his head softly, just enough to rustle his long red beard, "Humans. You crack me up."
"Nothing wrong with the stains of hard work," Thorvalt says solemnly to the human woman. Inside, he winces. That sounded more like Grandfather Nortom than him. The old man had been inside Thorvalt too long, he feared. And there really was nothing worse than a dwarven devotee of the god of toil, unless it were a duergar devotee.
"I've never met a fey, unless you count a gnome," Thorvalt muses, "I've heard of ones that look like human women with fox tails, who bewitch men to giving up their coins."
"You measure a man by his vocabulary?" Silas asks incredulously, turning his attention to the dwarf. "Now don't they all, fey I mean, bewitch men? Dryads, nymphs, sirens, they've all got something going on towards males. Ever heard of a male nymph that'd bewitch women? I sure haven't."
The day passes with no incident; the sun shines brightly throughout the day, birds sing their melodies, and not a single soul is met on the normally busy trail. They make a short stop midway to cook lunch—Benedict's rabbit, that is—and are soon on their way again.
Close to dusk they come upon a large timber lodge situated slightly off from the road. A welcoming sign over the door says "Weary Traveler Inn". Overall the building is in excellent shape, albeit some moss covering most of the roof. A small, covered area beside the building functions as a temporary stable for horses, donkeys, what have you. Presently the stable is empty, much to the convenience of Silas Gribb.
"This is good," Silas Gribb says with a smile, "I was hoping to get here before sunset, and without any hassle. It appears we are the only travellers here at the moment, but that can change as the night comes."
The caravan leader begins to veer the horses to the cover, hops off the carriage, straps the horses to the poles, and then fills the troughs with water and feed. This all happens in a blink of an eye, he's done this multiple times before, of course. Silas turns to look at his guards. "You head on it, if you like. Remember, I'm not paying for your stay or food or anything. You may sleep outside if you so wish, but my bad back's aching for a soft cushion!"
"I see well enough in the dark, dwarf. But I'd like to see the enemy from hundred paces. Gives us a fighting chance. Nighttime gives the edge to the enemy." Benedict answers Thorvalt, knowing very well the differences in vision between human and dwarves. And he suspects the dwarf knows this as well, and is just being annoying. Cutting the conversation there, Benedict moves on to pack his tent.
Never had no bewitching from nymphs, myself...
---
Most of time the warpriest walks ahead of the caravan, scouting the terrain. But at times he get bored, and falls back to pace along the carriage. He stares at the woman, sitting and reading in the carriage, for quite some time. Deep in his thought, his lips move slightly in his internal dialogue. After a while, he voices out the question he has been pondering: "And why a girl signs up for a guard duty? You have the looks of a city dweller, not of a caravan guard. If we come across highwaymen, they might consider a fancy lady as much worth capturing as anything Silas has on his crates."
---
"Well, that was a quiet trip. Easy money, being a guard." Benedict remarks once they get a sight of the inn. Travelling without incidents is a little bit boring, but it almost feels like cheating to getting paid without having to work for all the money. Of course, this insight is better get unsaid, at least to Silas.
"There will be plenty of chances to sleep in the wild, so best take use of the indoors while we can." And following his own advice, the priest of Erastil walks in to secure a bed to himself. A common room will be fine for him. Generally people tend to give him a wide berth, even when the room is packed.
"I didn't sign up as a guard, my dear, I signed up as protection. The two are similar, but still different.", Rose replies to the huntsman. "I dare assume I know sufficiently about the woods, or the fey, more than most in here. And I'm all aware of the dangers and wounds around, and I can aid with those. As for the capturing, I assure you, it would be slightly harder than it would appear at a glance." She walks to the door, entering the inn.
Copper watches the devil in the black dress saunter into the establishment, then turns to the others who are still outside.
"That woman's tongue is as sharp as her bird's talons," he says, watching with interest as she walks in. "I pity the highway man that thinks to capture her for his plaything."
The man eventually follows, waiting until no one can see him before looking into his threadbare and empty coin purse.
No drink, no room. Might have to keep trying to get the dwarf to crack that cask. This is going to be a long night.
The wooden door swings shut behind him, and Peka surveys the scene, expecting the room to be empty except the fiery woman who entered just before him.
The tavern is rather quiet indoors, with only two other people gathered at a wooden table. They, and the innkeeper, both raise their eyes towards the new visitors. The innkeeper is happy to serve more customers while the others rejoin their previous conversation.
"Travelers on a long walk, eh? Ha, you stopped at the right place! I've got food and drinks, bed and uuh, games! Everything one would desire far from the bustling cities! So what'll it be?" The excited innkeeper taps the counter, waiting for a response. He's a balding man with scraggly, graying hair, and is of average build. His face is weathered, showing signs of hard life in the past.
[Secret to Peka 'Copper' Yarvin; Thorvalt Pelligar: It appears the innkeeper is nervous. Although the fireplace is not lit, he's sweating a little.]
Drink! Definitely drink. Peka says, pulling a chair out and plopping his semi-weary body into it.
What games would you be speaking about? he asks with more than a passing curiosity.
Maybe I won't have to worry about paying for my room.
When the bartender gets closer, he whispers, And are the beds as empty as your tavern?
The strange nervousness of the bartender is not missed on Copper, who considers himself adept at reading other people. If he was terrible at that, then he would certainly lose far more often than he already does at his wagering.
"Games? Of what kind?" Benedict asks. Games of skill he might enjoy, and games of chance he will scorn.
"I'll be having whatever you'll have hot. And half a pint of ale to go with that." The hunter lays down his weapons to lean on the nearby wall before choosing a chair for himself.
Rose walks slowly towards the bar, her bird flapping its wings. It slowly turns its head to look at the two strangers, and begins staring at them. Raising an eyebrow, the woman turns and graces the two men with a small head bow, before turning towards the bartender. The bird continues its stare. "I'd like a portion of whatever stew you have as well. And a pint of ale as well.", she says, taking a glance at Peka, sighing internally. Surely there are smarter things than trying to poach free bedding from a forest tavernmaster, dear.
Upon receiving her drink, she nods at the bartender. "Do tell, how often do travellers come around this place? And what news do they bring?", she asks, taking a sip of the ale, tapping on the bar.
"It'd be downright sacrilegious to not sample the local ale," Thorvalt says after thinking a moment. This did not play well to Grandfather Nortom who berated Thorvalt for wasting his time with such merry-making. It must drive his ancestor crazy that his great-grandson was a worshiper of a lackadaisical human god as opposed to the Dark Smith. Thorvalt mainly gave praise to Cayden Cailean, but he still made a few prayers to Torag. Thorvalt often wondered what Grandfather's reaction would be if Thorvalt was a worshipper of Shelyn.
"How much for pint?"
That barkeep is nervous about something... I wonder if the others can see it?
Copper decides to make some new friends. If they had anything to do with why the barkeeper seemed on edge, he would probably find out in a hurry.
Not many people on the road lately, eh? he says with a charming smile as he pulls up a chair at the table with the two strangers sitting at it.
Peka Yarvin, though most folks call me Copper. Just passing through ourselves. What brings you folk out this far into the wilderness?
"Darts, cards, the usual," the innkeeper says, absent-mindedly starting to dry up some droplets from a dirty glass. "Aye, the times are quiet, not many hunters in the woods for some reason, the game'd be good."
The innkeeper is more than happy to oblige, and begins pouring ale to three pint-sized clay mugs. It seems the mugs have seen many hands in the decades they've been used, and as such are missing bits and pieces. Some have had handles, some where even bigger, some had a smooth finish. Still, they do their job just right.
The innkeeper eyes the dwarf as he pours the drinks. "I'm going to disappoint you, but this isn't exactly local. This is Cassomirian ale. You see, there aren't many breweries around these parts. Those fey, well, they favor wines. Odd wines at that."
"Ale's 4 copper a pint, common stuff. Beds are 2 silvers a night. And lastly, stew's one silver for a portion."
The two men sitting by the table turn to the newcomers as they hear the group inquire information about latest events in these parts of the woods. Both them are close to middle-age, and sport clothing fit for a hunter; loose sack cloths of earthly colors—brown, green, and gray—and longbows with miscellaneous equipment leaning against the wall. "Normally the road's busy, but I'm guessing there's something keeping hunters and traders away this particular day. But other than that there's nothing big to tell. Oh, but have you heard, there was a stage fight in Oppara, or so they tell! Those artsy baffoons finally got to each others' throats, ha!"
"A fight on the stage? Or a fight that was staged?" Copper feigns interest. News was news, but he was pretty sure he would forget about this little bit soon.
Probably the lead male found out the lead female was screwing his understudy. Jealousy gets 'em every time.
Copper looks over to the barkeep, absent-mindedly fiddling with his empty coin purse, the only copper to his name being... his name.
Not much going on where we were comin from either. No traffic, no news. Slow day for anything exciting I suppose. Say, either of you care for a friendly wager? I'll put your stew on my tab if you can get a dart closer to the bullseye than me. Otherwise you pick up my tab.
Copper flashes a playful grin, raising his eyebrows just a touch to see if they might take the bait. He ignores the groans of his new companions, only hoping they don't spoil his fun before he can get started.
"A real fight, I hear," the other man says with a smirk, "and it seems like even those props can draw blood!" The men seem amused by the fact even elitist artists in the 'big city' degrade to savagery once in a while.
"Itching for stew, eh?" one of the men asks, responding with an equally playful smile. "There's very little to lose, so why not." The man rises from his seat and looks at the innkeeper, who points at the frame on the wall with shutters. The man nods, and gives out his hand for a handshake. "Name's Heward. Best of luck to you."
Rose doesn't respond as the price is given, merely reaching into her pouch and drawing two golden coins. "I believe that would be sufficient. And let the winner of the... skill contest treat themselves for the amusement.", she says, leaning on the bar and crossing her legs. She reaches into her pouch once more, drawing a strange-looking mixture and passing it to her bird, which springs up and starts eating.
I do wonder if the braggart has something to back his claims. This will be interesting.
Ha! Well just about anything can draw blood if you use it right. I once saw a man cut another man's heart out with a spoon. Copper shudders at the memory, then tries to line up his shot.
The dart flights bounce off of Copper's fingers just as he lets go, causing the projectile to go askew. It spins in a wobbly flight pattern, losing height quickly and barely catches the bottom part of the board.
"Hey! I hit the board. At least I didn't stick anyone in the head like at the last tavern. Heh! Well it looks like the stew is probably on me," Copper says with a smile and a polite bow, allowing Heward to step up to the line.
Do you know what the actors were fighting over? 2-1 odds its over a woman and her bed, or at least who has been in it. the gambling man tries to continue some small talk.
"Gambling is a sin." Benedict mutters between his spoonfuls of stew. The words were not meant to anyone in particular, but loud enough for everyone to hear. Slowly the man finishes his meal, and rinses his mouth with long gulps of the ale. He stands up, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and walks to Peka.
"But I'll take you on a game of skill," he says, and pokes the man gently on the chest. Then picks up the darts and walks over to the dart board. The man throws the dart, like one would throw a kinfe, and it lands far away from any scoring area. Benedict grunts something and move away to give space for the next thrower.
"Well, as long as its ale, Cayden won't mind," Thorvalt said, "Or wine, really. I don't have much taste for wine myself but we're called to be adventurous."
Thick dwarven fingers stumbled around his coin purse and pulled out a silver. "A pint for me and the old man," Pelligar said, nodding towards Silas.
Heward takes place at the spot and gets ready to throw a dart. He flicks it towards the board, and manages to hit the second ring; not a good shot, but a lot better than what the caravan guards manages to produce.
"Seems like I got free supper!" Heward laughs, patting Copper on his back. "But if your throwing skill is that bad, you can't be ordinary hunters in these parts. What brings you to the midst of the forest?"
As Copper begins to ask about the stage fight in Oppara, the other man at the table turns. "Details are shrouded, but word is the man felt defiled after his crush—another actress—had intruded on someone else's loins, hah! So pretty much as you predicted."
The innkeeper, meanwhile, is more than happy to present ales and stew to the newcomers, for proper exchange of currency, of course. It takes but a moment for Silas Gribb to finally enter the inn, after fastening and feeding the horses. As he enters, he merely glances at his employees and walks right over to the counter, and drops a small pouch of currency to the innkeeper to enjoy. "Right this way," the innkeeper says quietly, and the two then head off up the stairs, leaving the clientele on their own.
"Well, that's rude, I bought him a drink," Thorvalt says. Then staring at the other cup of ale, he licks his lips "On the other hand, that's more for me."
Lazy roundabout shame of a dwarf! screams Grandfather Nortom in Thorvalt's head. You should be in a cave mining or at a forge!
"Ha! Well played friend. Dinner is on me it seems." Copper laughs and slaps the man on his shoulder.
"Just passing through really. I have a hard time staying in one place, and this merry band seemed like they could keep a poor sap like me alive to the other side of the forest. They didn't protest to loud when I asked to tag along." he answers with a wink and a smile.
"I tell you what. At least do me the honor of letting me win my dinner back. I tell you what, I'll even sweeten the deal. Dinner and a comfortable room, and maybe a little something of what he is having up stairs. Next dart takes all. Eh?"
Copper flashes a sly wink, speaking behind the back of his hand when referring to whatever their caravan leader just went upstairs to do.
Or whoever he went upstairs to do...
He raises his eyebrows once or twice, hoping to suck the man into the bet. Inside his heart begins to race and his head gets a little tingly. The excitement is palpable in every nerve ending on his body, though outwardly one would never tell how worked up Copper is.
This is it! The rush! The hook is baited, the fish has nibbled, and now it comes to this. A bowl of stew is hardly worth getting excited for, but a comfortable bed, perhaps joined by someone soft and warm... Or will I lose and end up in the mud outside because I don't have the coin to pay what I bet?
Rose quietly sips her drink, nodding to Silas as he enters. Hearing the conversation about the stage fight, she rolls her eyes. It is utterly incomprehensible how simple people are fascinated about what others daily actions.
Hearing Copper go for double or nothing, she chuckles, raising a cynical eyebrow. "Do let me know when you're betting your underwear, dear.", she says as she turns around, leaning on the bar.
Copper gets a broad grin on his face and winks at the feisty woman. "That is only when things are going really poorly," he says before raising his eyebrows and nodding his head slightly to her, hinting at the rooms upstairs, "or really well."
Heward chuckles as Copper is eager enough to double the pot. He takes up another dart as Peka throws his dart, and deftly hits near the center. The man is slightly taken aback. "Huh, guess you can throw a dart after all!" Heward then positions himself on the spot and throws his dart, but misses it almost entirely. Not one to sour a defeat, Heward merely bursts out laughing at his silly shot. "Well now you earn your victory, pal!" he says loudly, wiping his moist eyes, "I haven't thrown that bad since I was a toddler! The stew's on me, it seems!"
The innkeeper and Silas come back downstairs to the lobby as if nothing had happened. Silas looks at his guards and clears his throat. "You're in luck, the innkeeper's in need of any money he can get his hands on, so I bargained a larger room with four beds. You all can stay there, or if Rose prefers privacy, she'll get her own room and I'll save some silver and sleep with the rest of the men."
And endure the dwarf's stench...
"Most excellent Silas! I knew you were going to be a fantastic employer." Peka exclaims.
I have won my dinner, my room has been paid for. Now all I have to do is see if I can get the lady to buy me a drink, and no one will know my coin purse is empty!
"Your's was a good toss, but even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in a while, and so it is with me today. I'll at least do you the honor of eating with you. Good company makes a lost bet worth it. So tell me more about this little love triangle at the theatre." Copper spirals into relatively meaningless conversation and shares a few good laughs with the strangers. The conversation ebbs and flows from current events to the political landscape in Taldor and even a rumor or two from Absalom itself.
After a while, his throat parched, he saunters over to the others.
"Well, no luck on betting away my breeches, unless you want to buy me a drink and head upstairs for some private dice games." He says with a wink.
And whatever Silas was doing up there with the innkeeper... That certainly has me intrigued. I wonder if I could sneak up and see what they are hiding...
Doesn't let go, does he. Rose gives an amused glance at Copper, before smiling. "I am afraid I already had my fair share of disappointment tonight, dear, and I'm reluctant to add more." She takes a sip from her ale, nodding at Silas. "Thank you for the offer, but I will be getting my own. I have a thing or two that need doing before I sleep, and I'd hate to inconvinience you."
Now why would he need to talk to the barkeep in secret? Smuggling, perhaps? Rose thinks as she bites into her meal. It is a possibility, however unlikely. I would assume that men mostly smuggle towards bigger towns and not dilapidated forest inns. Unless he's picking up something. Would need to see if we have the same number of crates we did.
Copper mingles with the two men, drinking and eating, chatting about the rumors and events of today, and seems to have a certain affinity with the group. Copper hears little of use, only useless gossips about opera, which is quite peculiar. These two men have an oddly broad understanding of the artistic scene back in Oppara. After pointing his observation, both of the men laugh and nod, admitting they both worked as stage hands before ditching the demeaning job and head to the forest to become hunters. Still, they keep up with the latest news, just in case they hear something about their former co-workers.
Heward and Todd—the other man—bid Peka a good night as he leaves the jolly folk and returns to his colleagues.
Silas shares only a smirk. "We've got a long journey ahead of us. No inns till we get to Belhaim. That is going to be our next stopping point. And Rose, that suits me just fine. Regardless of what you decide to do with your time, I will retreat to catch some sleep. See you in the morning!" Silas Gribb almost immediately turns and heads up the stairs.
"Your loss dear." Copper winks before heading upstairs to crash. "You know, disappointment is a gift. It gives us perspective on just how great the finer things in life can be. Just let me know when you're craving some 'disappointment', I'll be happy to help give you a new perspective."
What's better. A woman to keep my bed warm, or the moment right before the cards turn up and fate is revealed? She isn't wrong, both can be disappointing. Copper muses to himself as he tromps up the stairs.
He crests the landing on the second floor, looking around for anything that might give him a clue as to what Silas was doing up here with the innkeeper, his curiosity unquenchable.
Though truth be told, that moment when the pile is still sitting in the center of the table, just before the cards turn is as exquisite as that first sordid embrace under the sheets. So much potential hanging in the balance. Yes, that is the place to live. Who cares how it all turns out in the morning, its the roll of the dice, or the roll in the sheets. Thats livin. Everything else is just grey fog inbetween.
Up the stairs a long corridor opens up, straight as an arrow to the back, ending in a closed window with wooden shutters. Sturdy wooden doors line the sides, all six of them. All the rooms upstairs appear to be locked, save the one reserved for the caravan group.
Eventually the group heads for a good night's sleep, some accompanying the others, Rose deciding to reside in her own room. The commotion downstairs in the main room stays calm, and eventually quiets down as Heward and Todd take their leave, leaving the forest inn for a stay outdoors. The owner of the tavern soon locks the doors, shuts the lights, and retreats to his own bed as well.
The night is calm, with a light shower washing the green woods. By dawn the sun greets the forest through the wet leaves, its rays penetrating through the foliage, and through the cracks of the window shutters. Inconveniently, the rays strike right at Silas' eyes, who is first to wake up again. His displeased grunting soon wakes the others up as well, and they all begin to make their way back downstairs for a quick breakfast, and then for a long, long journey towards Belhaim, then Wispil.
Silas Gribb takes a meticulous check on his cargo, a more thorough investigation than what he usually did. He takes a look at every crate, checking the covers and the nails. Counts them once, twice, three times. He appears very concerned, and takes a look at the caravan guards. "One can never be too sure," Silas explains the curious faces. "It'd be too easy for some dishonest people to snatch cargo from a merchant. Seems like no one dared, though!" He ends his speech with a laughter, fastening the last straps. He hops onto the driver's seat and soon the caravan is on its way.
The days crawl as the winding forest trail meanders about, taking long routes around boulders, huge trees, and other natural obstacles. The occasional downhills and uphills further slow down the travel, forcing Silas to push the horses lest they make the carriage sway and fall. And not to mention those few trees that have fallen over, requiring the guards to get up and lift the trunk off the road. Finally, after a week of uneventful yet arduous traveling they see the first signs of residence; the fence bordering a large field. In the distance, they see a farm house, and some trails of smoke in the still air. "Finally", Silas exclaims, letting out a relieved sigh out with a shake of his head. "I had not remembered the road was that bad. Sorry for the bumps and sores, maybe we'll get a smooth, soft bed here in Belhaim!"
Without wasting any time, Silas makes the last bit of travel to the center of Belhaim. It's high noon, but Silas has promised the group they'd stay there for at least the day to refill the stocks, and leave in the morning. The journey would continue towards Wispil, where Silas would pay the last bit of the reward.
Silas hops off from his driver's seat, and begins to tie the horses' leashes to the poles. A group of people have gathered to gawk upon the newcomers; visitors seem to be rare in this rural village amidst the deep forest. Silas pays little attention to them, although some come closer than is socially acceptable. "Never seen a caravan before?" Silas eventually asks sarcastically, annoyed by the villagers' presence. He is shortly interrupted by a group that advances through the crowd. The leader of the group clears his throat; he's wearing a clean uniform, just as the rest of the men, and sports a sharp longsword on his belt. The man's the village's sheriff.
"Now you must be Silas Gribb, am I right?" the sheriff asks with a hint of schadenfreude. He begins to circle the wagon, knocking the wooden sides with his knuckles. "A little bird told me," he begins, chuckling to himself, "a caravan matching yours would happen to pass by. And lo, here you are. You wouldn't happen to know what your cargo holds."
Silas, on the other hand, agitates and glances at his employees before turning to the sheriff. "What my cargo holds is none of your business." But before Silas can continue, the sheriff lifts a finger and rebukes Silas. "Tut-tut, didn't your mother teach lying is a sin? Word is you're trading impermissible weapons to enemies of the state. Enemies of Taldor. Guards! Cuff the man!"
The other men jump at Silas before anyone can even react; either they've practiced this whole operation for days or they're just immensely adept. They push Silas to the ground, making him puff air out of his lungs, and expertly tie him. The caravan leader struggles to set himself free, but he is no match for a trio of trained soldiers. Then the sheriff turns to look at the shocked caravan guards with intrigue.
"You lot wouldn't have anything on your conscience about this, hmm?" the sheriff asks, ridiculing as he smiles smugly. "Now's the time to come clean lest you prefer to come along with Silas here all the way on foot to Cassomir for some quality jail time in the Swift prison."
The crowd around is watching the spectacle with intrigue. Silas is already thwarted, so it is now the caravan guards' decision what they want. The sheriff looks at them expectantly. Judging by the man's equipment and overall appearance, he is around 40 years old, and has fought in a war or several. [Secret to Thorvalt Pelligar: He has a very commanding voice, and it would probably be a very small feat for him to order the entire village to attack a group of caravan guards if he so wished. A certain glow of brutality, remorselessness shines from his eyes.]
"Woah woah woah everybody, lets just calm down for a minute before we go gettin all crazy here." Copper laughs as he pats the air down in front of him, arms wide in as unthreatening manner as possible while moving into the center of the area.
"Now we were hired by Silas here to guard this caravan from thieves and unscrupulous folk. I can vouch that none of us know what our employer here is carrying, and that was by design. However, if you arrest him here, then I don't get paid, and that would really ruin my day. I am sure we can come to some form of agreement here so I can properly earn my gold."
Copper approaches the leader of the authorities. "Now if the charge is dealing in illegal weapons, could you be more specific, before you drag my employer off? What weapons would be illegal? And why can't we just check the crates to verify? If he isn't doing anything wrong, then it shouldn't be to difficult to clear up, right?"
"A bird, huh. If only birds could speak, what wondrous truths we'd learn.", says Rose, taking a long glance at the sheriff. I'd happily avoid... misunderstandings with this man... But if he continues trying to shake us down, I'll happily flay his kids before his eyes.
"I am by no means an expert in Taldan law, but I am pretty sure you're supposed to go on a little more of a limb, here." She crosses her arms, looking at the village, the mob, and the sheriff. Worth planting the seed. "Of course, I am but a simple caravan guard, but I wonder how long a village of, say, five hundred people, can live off the profits of an entire weapons shipment. Especially, if said weapons are made from an uncommon metal."
She sends a charming smile at the sheriff. "Of course, as the foremost paragon of law in this lovely village, you could probably present your evidence against our poor caravan master, and issue a just verdict? In civilised places, every man is able to make a defense for himself?"
"We want no trouble", Benedict says and raises his hands up non-offensively. "But are you arresting a man on rumors. Let him speak in his defense."
Benedict is unarmed, but he has seen enough combat to have his weapons close by. This situation is rather complicated. He should defend his employer, but he has little wish to oppose the men of law. And if the sheriff's claim is right, would he want to work with a criminal?
"My enchantingly beautiful companion and the not so enchantingly beautiful one over there are right. What kind of law man arrests and confiscates on rumors and hear-say? There is no need to call your reputation and integrity into question here, let the man have his say, and we can all be on our way." Copper's smile is practiced, and veiled. He glances down to the shackled Silas, and his look hints at the possibility of a bonus.
He didn't say anything about guarding the caravan from the law...
"Not by mere rumors," the sheriff chuckles, picking a rolled up scroll from his coat, "I received word from Maheto shipments of explosives—you heard me, all the way from Alkenstar—were confiscated in the dead of the night. It took them more time than they wanted to find out who took them, by then Silas Gribb and you lot had left the city of weapons."
The sheriff takes a warm-hearted look at Rose, though the smile carries a sense of sarcasm. "Dear lady, I don't work on a whim, of course not! I know the laws of the land, and of Taldor, as well as I know my pockets." He begins to address the whole crowd instead of just the guards, holding his arms high as the speaks aloud with a booming voice.
"This man, Silas Gribb, has performed treason! His means were to betray the fine people of Taldor, and gift our enemies with weapons of mass destruction! If it weren't for the brave souls back in Maheto, his treachery would have gone undiscovered! What do you have to say for yourself?" The sheriff points a rather accusing finger on Silas, who lays on the ground, arms tied to his back.
"I did not smuggle any weapons!" Silas cries out. "I didn't know my contractor had me transfer weapons to the enemies of the state! Don't accuse an innocent, gullible man to the noose!" The man appears to panic, rigorously trying to set himself free albeit being held down by two strong men. The man seems to not be himself; he's acting a lot more defensive, not as belligerent as he has during the voyage. It is as if he was on the verge of tears, but the crocodile in him is strong.
"Well I would say it is high time we all see what is really in these crates, right?" Copper says as he leaps up onto the back of the wagon. He looks around furtively for a crowbar, and not seeing one handy, takes his dagger out instead. He jams the tip underneath the lid and pushes down hard to try to pop the top off, his curiosity overcoming his sense of restraint.
The dagger does an adequate job, and before anyone has a say Peka has opened up one of the crates. True to the sheriff's words, it holds numerous odd, black and round iron cases with a short cord sticking out of them. They've been packed sparsely, separated with a thick layers of hay.
"Surprised?" the sheriff asks mockingly, "it was taken to Maheto to research how to reproduce them. Silas here must've set back their research by weeks if not months."
The crowd grows agitated as the bombs are brought to light. The common populace has the understanding these Alkenstar devices bring the destructive power of an archmage to the common criminal, and are thus feared and loathed. All the eyes strike at Silas.
"Well this changes things, and not for the better I'd say." Copper flips the lid of the crate into the dust on the ground, then jumps nimbly off the wagon.
"It's bad for Silas, cuz he got caught transporting illegal weapons. I can do a good enough job getting myself into trouble, so don't think for a second I am going to brand myself a criminal by defending his illegal schemes." He slips his dagger back into its sheath on his side before he spins his handbo and sticks the tip of the wooden pole on the side of the wagon and leans against it.
"It's bad for me, because I've got an empty coin purse and I still want to get paid. So whaddya think, sheriff? I'll help you any way I can to finish bringing this rotten scum to justice, if you can just find it in your heart to squeeze the money he was going to pay me out of his conniving hide."
Copper flashes a snake oil salesman type smile and bows slightly with his arms out to his sides, then winks at Rose.
The sheriff evaluates Peka with his sight. From head to toe, he makes an amused sneer. "Traveling the Verduran forest penniless? Well, I'm guessing a weathered man like yourself could find some jobs in our town whilst me and my deputies are gone taking Silas back to Cassomir. We've often been asked to perform some jobs for odd coins. But no lawholding, you're not authorized!"
The sheriff then turns to look at the group as a whole. "Judging from your reaction you had nothing to do with this. Very well, you're off the leash, but I can't promise you any compensation as of now. Maybe once the paperwork's finished in Cassomir which, eh, might take some time. Consider it a long-time investment, so to speak." The sheriff seems both relieved and a bit troubled that the group of caravan guards doesn't appear to be with the scheme, but are now disgruntled their employer has been caught and is being taken away, leaving them without the last half of the payment.
"But do not look at me with your murderous gazes, Silas Gribb is the man that bluffed you into his smuggling. The man we are taking to Cassomir, since over in these villages he'd might pass for a hanging. Too swift a sentence for a criminal of such magnitude, if you ask me."
I wonder where loyalty would lie in this case. She chuckles in her head. As if that means something. Reliability, yes. Loyalty, no.
Rose nods at the crate with a smirk, tossing a longer than usual glance at Peka. Doesn't fall on his back, that's for sure.
Taking a couple of steps towards the cart, she takes a long look on the explosives. I guess it was true that a crisis and an opportunity are the same thing. If we could get our hands on these explosives, and leave none the wiser, we'd get a lot more from the bargain than whatever this fool was due us. Would require them leaving them here, however...
Finally opening her mouth, she sends a nod to the sheriff. "You've convinced me, sheriff. I suppose there's no harm in staying here for a while." Except the absolutely mind-dulling ambience of the countryside.
Thorvalt's primal memories, from his dear old ancestor, flashed of several raids of unbelievers, of enemies of the state. Nortom, lacking the wits he once had, still had the urge to join in. Thorvalt weighed that. He thought that it was quite likely that Silas was lying about his lack of knowledge.
"Our personal property, I assume stays with us," Thorvalt pips up, "I've got a barrel of ale up there." He points a thumb at the caravan wagon.
Peka turns to the others who had signed up with him to act as guards for the caravan.
"Well, it looks like we might be stuck here for a bit. I for one am uncomfortable not being able to afford my next drink, and something tells me that working with you three might help demand a bit higher price for... whatever it is we can get hired to do. What do you say we take a look around? Who knows, maybe we can hired on another caravan leaving this gods forsaken place and get out of here after all." The scruffy man smiles, pulling a hip flask out of a hidden pocket and taking a long pull.
"What? Yea, I've had it all along. I just don't like to use the emergency stash unless I have to." He cracks a grin. "Hey lawman, where's the watering hole here? The boys here and the lady are thirsty. Probably going to need to find a bed to sleep in too."
Preferably one that comes with a soft and willing woman with loose morals.
With directions in hand, he nods to the others and makes his way to the place that hopefully has the most rumors, chances for unscrupulous work, and perhaps a game of dice or cards.
Benedict's shoulders slump a little when the evidence against their employer become clear. Seems he and the others were fooled into an illegal operation.
Still, this could have ended worse.
"Thank you, sheriff," is all he says. Meaning his business with Silas and the sheriff is now concluded. Looks like he's stuck in Belhaim for a while. Walking back home is an option, but alone and with low supplies there's an element of danger.
He looks at the others. "What now?"
Following the rest as they head to the tavern, Rose is deep in thought, numerous ideas and suggestions popping up and getting shot down in seconds. Turning to regard Benedict, she smiles. "Now, dear, we look at what we have and what we can. If we see an opportunity, we take it. I've no intention to reside in this backwater slump any longer than I have to, but heading out without a group behind your back is an idiotic notion."
She weighs the three men with her icy blue stare. The blond one would probably be interested in following, and will probably even make his own reasons. The dwarf is unhygienic, but seems capable. As for the trapper, he seems to say little and think a lot, sadly.
She gestures towards the tavern. "I believe I may have an idea or two, that I'd much rather discuss in private. In places like this," she says, scowling, "the only thing harder than keeping a secret is to marry someone who's not your cousin."
With that, she walks in the building.
"You may keep what isn't classified as contraband," the sheriff says solemnly. His attitude visibly turns from a stern law officer into one more attuned to keeping residents content and safe. "I do have to apologize for my and my colleagues nigh immediate department, leaving you stranded in this rural yet isolated village."
To Peka's question, the sheriff nods, chuckling a bit. "I guess you do need a drink after this revelation. There's a few places to refresh oneself, one that comes to mind is The Wise Piper."
The sheriff whistles, and his men begin grabbing gear and Silas on the wagon, preparing to board it and take it to Cassomir. They allow Rose, Thorvalt, Peka, and Benedict to retrieve all their belongings and personal treasury before setting off. The crowd around soon starts to disband just as the group begins to head towards the only thing they want, a drink.
As Rose rushes into the tavern adviced by the kind sheriff, a young taldan lady stops them by the door, smiling to them apologeticly. "I saw what happened there on the market square," she begins, pointing at the direction where they were coming, "you've truly been in the eye of the storm. Now, I'm a resident in this peaceful little village, Talia Orem by the name, and I'm the owner of the Wise Piper. I can only imagine what confusion you must be in! Stranded here, it must be tough. If it can be of any consolation, I can provide you free room and board for a few days, long enough for you to pick up where you left."
Talia smiles innocently, awaiting an approval.
Affecting his best charm, Copper dips into a polite and slightly exaggerated bow, slipping the innkeeper's hand into his own and kissing the back of it.
"Such a pleasure to meet you milady. Your generosity is unmatched in all of my travels, I cannot thank you enough."
Shall you be joining me in my room tonight then?
Peka smiles, "With your company and your undoubtably soft and warm beds, I am sure our time here will be relaxing, instead of arduous. Is... ah, Is there anything that you wish from us in return for the free room?"
Like the company of a strong, ruggedly handsom man to keep your bed warm?
"Why don't we start with that drink while we chat some more." Peka begins to lead the group inside.
Rose rolls her eyes almost audibly at Peka. "Oh, but I can see that you're doing your best to pay that debt, darling.", she says, sending an understanding look at Talia. "If you keep that tail-wagging of yours during your stay, I'm sure the inflow of patrons would vastly benefit the establishment."
She nods politely at the generous hostess. "That said, we truly are thankful. I've rarely seen such hospitality." Usually I'd need to cast a spell or two.
The dark-haired woman continues. "But where are my manners. I'm Rose, dear, pleased to meet your acquaintance.", she says, bowing slightly. Raising her falconer's glove, the bird of prey regards Talia with a stare. "And this is Niv. I do apologise for bringing her in without warning, but she is far from the most disruptive of patrons."
Quite surprising, the village. Apparently, not all forest villages are filled with inbreds and closed minded buffoons.
She sits on a table, fixing her dress. "Well, idle hands are the devil's playthings, as they say. Perhaps you'd be aware of a situation around these parts that could be resolved by people of our...", she stops, throwing an appraising look at the group. "Unorthodox problem solving capabilities, as it is." She shares another rare smile.
Talia offers Peka a warm, pretentious smile, but remains polite. "Aren't you the gentleman!" she giggles with some sincerity. Her attention is later brought over to Rose, as the fine lady addresses Talia by an introduction. "Birds are okay, as long as they don't litter," she says, sternly. Or at least tries to, shortly succumbing to slight giggles.
"I'm guessing you all are thirsty by the throat," Talia says, retreating to the counter, starting to pour mugs full of ale. "Maybe this'll get you to tell tales of your journey here. We rarely get the luxury of traveling abroad, so anything you tell of a place not filled up with trees is an exciting story. I'm afraid this village is completely void of anything that'd need... unorthodox problem solving capabilities."
Peka offers his arm to the gracious hostess as they walk into the building, leaving his charm meter cranked to the max.
I'm not getting Rose out of that dress any time soon, surely the ladies of this village could use a little outsider love and attention.
"...So we're staring at each other, massive pile of gold in the center of the table. He's chewin on his matchstick like he's some brooding big tough guy. His face gets all red, and by now mind you my heart is going about a million miles a minute. I don't know how I kept my face calm, but I swear the whole room could hear my heart pounding."
"After about two minutes of that hard stare, and I swear it felt like two hours, he throws his cards on the table in disgusts and folds. I couldn't believe it! Biggest pot I ever bluffed. Well he wasn't to happy with the look of relief that came across my face, because he pulled his blade right there and stuck it in my face..."
Peka tells his story with dramatic flare, pausing at the spots that elicit the biggest reaction from the damsels in the room, all too eager to play the humble, 'aw-shucks' blond-haired bad boy from some other town.
"Talia, another round?" Copper flashes his charming smile again.
Need to get this evening moving along. It's as exciting as a Lastwall funeral in here. Which one of these ladies is going to keep me company tonight?
Talia provides another ale, but with a notion it'll be the last one for the day; it is only noon, after all. Too early to drink heavily. And by the looks of it Talia's a claimed lady already, and takes Peka's flirts as flattering compliments. She wows and giggles at the man, so if this were another universe, maybe Copper would get lucky and see gold.
"Oh deary me, stabbed in the face? Must've been a dull blade, there's not a scratch on your face, dear!" Talia says after the story, bringing a small pot of stew to the table for the group to eat. "It's on the house, but don't get piggy just 'cause it's free!"
"Haha! No no my dear, just pointed it at me. My apologies for misleading you..." the sly man winks at the woman.
Copper finishes the less interesting conclusion to the story while he drains his most recent ale, hiding his disappointment that there would be no more booze.
We are in the middle of nowhere... What else is there to do but drink?
Not wanting to ruin his buzz to much, Peka picks at a bit of the stew, politely deferring until later to have more. Drink finished and enough stew in his belly to keep it from rumbling, he saunters just outside the door to take in the view.
He smiles and waves to the people passing by, putting extra emphasis on his charm whenever a lady is near.
It's going to be a lonely night, isn't it? Ah what I wouldn't give for some of those Kelishite maidens tonight. Eh, if we are stuck here long enough, I'm sure even the most plain of them will be a welcome... relief.
It never really occurs to Peka just how... uncouth... his thought process truely is.
Benedict grumbles something as a form of thanks, and digs his spoon into the stew. It looks like another boring evening, but boring is better than picking up a fight with law enforcement. Still, it would be good to come up with something. Spending days just eating and drinking dulls the mind.
And that Peka looks like he'll get into trouble with the locals sooner or later.
"We could go hunting tomorrow. Get plenty of food that way. And make a few coins with pelts. Anyone know their way in the woods?" the hunter speaks with his mouth full of food, making it hard to get heard over Peka's excited bantering.
Rose raises her eyes from her book, a gesture shared by Niv. "I could come. While I'm not the best tracker, I believe I could gather herbs or similarly useful plants. Tell me, Talia dear, is there something in these woods we should be aware of? Except the fey, of course." She shifts her stance on the chair and continues. As much as I'd stay in the tavern, the longer we do so, the less our chance of grabbing the bombs are. If the sheriff doesn't leave with them...
"It's still mid-day, we could go hunting right now!" Copper smiles disarmingly at his recent companions.
Anything to get the blood pumping, since the beast with two backs doesn't look like a viable option anytime soon.
Copper twirls his handbo around, leaning against a doorframe. A hip flask appears in his hand and the man takes a quick pull, obviously disappointed that the ale has already stopped flowing.
Why I haven't made friends with a priest of Cayden Caileen yet is beyond me...
Rose sighs. "Drinking before a hunt makes a solid contender for the stupidest thing you've done all day, dear." She looks at Benedict. "I am ready as well, Benedict. I suggest you take the lead, since you do seem to be the most experienced. I'll point you to any prey that Niv might spot. Obviously I'd recommend that we return before nightfall."
She shoulders her crossbow, and packs a quiver at her hip. Niv flaps from the table to her raised arm.
Talia chuckles ever so slightly at Peka's gestures, bidding him a good day as he walks outside. The village seems lively even at noon, in comparison, of course. The sheriff has already left, leaving the remnants of the curious crowd behind to gossip and ponder, chatter about who's going to protect them from bandits. They all laugh it off, making bigger claims about expert archers among their midst, and how people are just as easily hunted as are elk and other woodland creatures.
Inside Talia continues to serve the rest of the group, taking swift looks at the scraggly man, Benedict. She has hard time hearing him talk, no wonder with a mouth full of food. "Dear, people would understand you better if you'd have table manners. No talking while your mouth's full!" Talia scolds Benedict, showing a motherly side of her, "but yes, there are lot of hunters, scouts, and scavengers in this village. And many more take long walks in the woods to clear their heads, be it either from booze or brawl. Pick any man you want and he'll guide you in the woods, for a fee of course." She pauses a moment to consider what Benedict had said. "Pelts are a common commodity over here, something we regularly sell offtown. They aren't terribly valuable, unless you find something uncommon, or are an expert skinner."
Talia turns then to face Rose. The innkeeper seems to be a tad annoyed by the lady's antics; condescending, belittling Peka—although Talia somewhat agrees what Rose says—and the looming presence of uppity. Regardless, Talia keeps a friendly face, smiling warmly. "The fey don't give us any trouble unless we provoke them," she begins, "there's an old, abandoned quarry to the east which is now inhabited by some kobolds, if I reckon correctly, but they haven't made a scene of themselves at all. We just stay clear of it, you know, to not provoke them to do anything stupid. Other than that... well, no, it's a pretty ordinary forest." Talia shrugs, unsure what Rose wanted to hear.
As Talia is telling tales of the locale, the walls of the inn rattle as though shaken by thunder. [Secret to Peka 'Copper' Yarvin; Rose Waerloga; Thorvalt Pelligar: Or more akin to that of a massive landslide.] Peka sees what's the cause; a huge plume of dust riding to the northeast. A young man rushes from that direction towards the tavern, out of breath and stops at the doorstep. "Tell everyone, the Witch Tower has collapsed!" Before Peka gets the opportunity to ask any further questions from the boy, he runs off to tell the news to others. Those within the market square look at each other—puzzled, horrified, even scared—and begin to head northeast to gawk at this event.
Peka gets a mischevious grin on his face as the commotion boils over. He ducks his head inside the tavern door, shouting to get his companion's attention.
"Hey! Maybe it won't be so boring out here after all. Let's go check this out!"
Without really waiting for them, Peka runs off after the boy to the center of the town where he continues to spread the news that seems so dire. He approaches a couple of people talking in hushed tones with worried looks on their faces.
"Help a stranger out? What exactly is the witch's tower, and why is it such a big deal that it just collapsed? Besides the obvious of what could make something like that collapse..." He flashes a charming smile and waits patiently.
A witch's tower? I would very much love to check that out..., thinks Rose as she walks out onto the street. "Now, let us see what is going on? Surely we might even be able to receive some monetary incentives for aiding the town in it's turmoil.", she smiles at Peka. "And, yes, I believe we could get some pelts along the way, if need be."
"Law of supply and demand, right Rose my dear? The demand for someone brave enough to investigate is high, and the supply of people as capable as us is low. The market is in our favor." He flashes the smile right back.
Don't say the thing about beaver pelts, don't say the thing about beaver pelts, don't say the thing about...
Peka doesn't always know when to keep his mouth shut, as evidenced by the innumerable fist fights he has gotten into over the years, every one of them either about women or money. This time, however, he is smart enough to leave the crude innuendo in his mind.
"The what..?"
The locals seem to be familiar enough with this Witch Tower. While waiting for the answer, Benedict moves along the crowd in hopes he could catch a glimpse of whatever is happening in northeast. Maybe there is something of interest happening after all. And if not, he can always return to his previous plan of hunting.
"I can't stay and talk, man!" the boy says hastily, pointing away at the various houses around. "I have news to deliver!" With that, the boy dashes off to shout the news to other befuddled villagers, whose intrigue is roused by the news of the collapse.
Pretty much the entire village gathers around the remains of the tower. Most are polite enough to keep a distance, not to get too close to the tower. There might be some superstition about that, too. However, two loclas putter about aimlessly. One wanders about scratching her head, and the other stands with hands on his hips, chewing on a stalk of grass. Some hushed voices tell those two are the freshest recruits of the sheriff, and they clearly are not trained to handle this kind of a situation.
Someone from the crowd shouts a suggestion. "Would the wizard Hunclay know something?" Eyes turn towards a manor not far, sharing the same hill as the tower. The deputies begin to argue with each other, their speech undecipherable.
Peka looks at the dumbfounded villagers for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and marching right into the rubble and mess. He pays no attention to the gawkers as he picks about, looking for clues amongst the rubble as to what might have caused such a collapse.
"Could it have collapsed from old age and decrepitness? If something knocked it over, I suspect we should find clues to that somewhere. Check near the base, look at anything large enough to suggest it used to be load bearing. Another good place to look would be the stones near the top of the tower."
Eventually Peka looks up and over to the apparent wizard's manor.
I guess we will be going there next... He muses to himself.
Lacking knowledge about architecture, Benedict cannot even guess would a tower collapse by it's own. So that analysis is best left to others. But the hunter has keen eyes, so the very least he can do is explore the site for any signs of sabotage. Slowly and silently, Benedict wanders around the rubble, kneeling every so often to study the ground for what at first looks like a footprint of some manner.
"We can go see the wizard, all right," he finally acknowledges, once he is done with his search.
The raven-haired woman smiles back at Peka. "That was indeed what I was implying, dear." Hah! Supply and demand. Maybe he has had a thing or two beaten in his head.
Rose shrugs, rolling her eyes as she hears the deputies arguing. "Fools.", she mutters, loud enough for some bystanders to hear. She raises an incredulous eyebrow at Peka. "My, that is the first sensical thing I heard leaving your mouth since we've met. Are you sure you're alright, dear?", she quips before sighing tiredly. "Unless you count knowledge of stonework as one of your sporadic virtues, I would suggest leaving now, before you mess something up. And, do bring the village's mason here. Guessing what did that would be utterly pointless without someone with a knowledge of architecture."
I wonder why they call it the Witch tower. Wizards are usually the ones overcompensating. I'd usually guess that the moronic crowds can't tell the difference, but apparently they do.
She gives a glance at the rubble, trying to figure out anything particularly bewitching, before turning to one of the onlookers with a smile. "Excuse me, my dear, could you please tell me why you call, er, called it the Witch Tower? Take it the village has a history with it?"
Someone behind Peka reacts to his speech. "What would make a building centuries old collapse all of a sudden, and so violently? There had been no signs of decrepitness," a female voice says behind
The deputies seem relieved someone else has filled their shoes and taken up on visiting the wizard Hunclay in their stead. It goes without saying, the body language of them is clear, the wizard was a tad intimidating person. Then again, what's not to be feared about a powerful wizard?
One onlooker is educated enough to answer Rose's question. "It's part of an old castle, Castle Tula, if you've heard the name. It was razed some 200 years ago. Maybe it had a witch in there, dunno about that though. It has been vacant ever since, but is owned by the baroness."
Benedict does a thorough checkup about the surroundings of the tower while the crowd curiously watch over his actions. An enormous heap of cracked stone and splintered wood from the tower lies in a low mound here, tumbled partially down the hill to the southeast. The mound of rubble forms a natural ramp that leads up to the now-exposed second floor of the tower above. Benedict does not, however, find any suspicious tracks or footprints around the tower, save those laid by the wandering deputies.
"So outside forces it is then." Peka claps the dust off of his hands as he stands up, then follows by dusting off his breeches, thereby replacing the dust that had just been cleaned off of his palms. He places one of those dirty hands on his chin as he thinks deeply for a moment.
"Natural forces though, or deliberate? Probably won't find much else here..." He mutters more to himself than anything.
After the several minutes taken to carefuly scan the area and the rubble, his own assumptions set and list of questions yet to be answered in his brain, he looks to the others.
"Where to next? Lots of options, most just as good as the next. How about that Wizard?"
"Uh-huh," Benedict mumbles, and starts walking slowly towards the pointed manor, where the wizard supposedly lives. He doesn't have any particular interest in talking with wizards. But since some of his fellow ex-caravan-guards have trouble staying silent at all, Benedict trusts they can handle the conversation.
Strange for a tower to fall by itself... But if this was done on purpose with mundane means, I would've found some tracks
Benedict is the first to brave the manor, reaching the porch of the grand estate. Immediately the keen-eyed huntsman spots a charred corpse of kobold on the wooden panels. As the crowd had moved to follow Benedict's advancement, loud gasps can be heard as they see what is uncovered. "Kobolds?" many voices whisper to each other, "how could it be?" The voices are enladen with confusion, disbelief, and wonderment.
One of the deputies, seeing how an outsider has shown courage no townsfolk has, tries to make up for his own befuddlement. He promptly walk over to the porch and sternly knocks on the wizard Hunclay's door. With no answer to be heard, the deputy harumphs. He is almost reaching for the handle, when the other deputy shouts from the crowd. "Don't touch it, lest you dear the fate of the kobold!" Again, the crowd gasps quite expectantly. Suddenly both deputies seem horrified; the manor could indeed be trapped with multiple arcane tricks that'd fry anyone trying to enter it without the wizard present...
Indeed, the wizard Hunclay is not even amongst the crowd. Once again the crowd murmurs.
The crowd's noise dies down quickly as they begin to make way for who appears to be the leader of Belhaim. A middle-aged woman clad in luxurious clothes arrives with a much younger man. The man takes point, shooing the deputies away from the porch in addition to Benedict.
"It appears the old witch's tower has finally collapsed, but you must not let it distract you from your daily duties. Be on your ways and return to what you were doing. My son, Arnholde, will take charge of the situation here with the deputies, and we will uncover what caused this sudden calamity," the middle-aged woman says. She begins to eye about the dispersing crowd, her eyes gazing towards the odd group of three. The lady comes forth with confident steps, dressed in a black and purple dress fit for royalty, adorning an iron rose brooch, and long, silver ear rings. Her smile is welcoming and warm, despite her pronounced authority.
"It is not often we stumble upon visitors, and your presence here sure is a coincidence," she says, squinting her eyes a tiny bit. She lets out a slight chuckle before continuing. "But worry not, I do not assume you to be the culprits to this collapse. I am Lady Origena Devy, baroness of Belhaim, pleased to meet you. I take it you were with the caravan that was confiscated for carrying contraband? It just might be your lucky day today. Mulle and Hodd here can't handle this without the Sheriff to hold their hands, and I want to know what happened here. You seem to be a capable bunch, given your arms and equipment. If you go in there and look through the rubble—find out what happened and why there are kobolds in my town—I'll pay the lot of you handsomely. While you're looking around in the ruins, keep an eye out for any signs of our local eccentric, Hunclay. It seems somewhat suspicious to me that he's not answering his door. Let me know what you find, alright?" [Secret to Benedict the Ugly: There's a certain strain in her tone.]
"Mmm.. was hoping the wizard had answers. Guess not." Benedicts voice is barely above a mumble as he kneels down to study the kobold's corpse. It looks like the rumors about wizards enjoying their privacy are true, at least. While the hunter meticulously investigates the kobolds belongings for clues, his mind works hard for figuring out reasons for this creature's presence. Natural causes for the tower's collapse seems more unlikely now.
Only then Benedict remembers the lady. Ruling class of this town, it seems. The hunter-priest would hunt down the kobolds as his sacred duty to protect the community, but if the woman wants to pay them for it, all the better.
Why doesn't Peka or Rose say anything? They are much better with words. This is some noble, perhaps? Should they be addressed in particular way?
"Yes, we will look into these kobolds. Uhh... Ma'am."
Peka observes the regal woman approaching them with a wry smile. Hrmmm... Middle aged, refined, not to bad on the eyes, willing to pay us for our efforts. Perhaps we can see if what they say about lonely, powerful women is true...
"Indeed we were, Baroness." Peka bows politely, taking the woman's hand and kissing the back of it. "On the caravan, that is. It is a shame about all that business. We are grateful that your authorities were smart enough to see we were unwitting accomplices in that whole deal."
Peka deftly moves beside the lady to survey the area in front of them, sweeping his arm out in a wide gesture. "Your offer is most generous, and on behalf of my companions, we happily accept. You will certainly want updates as we investigate. Should we report directly to you, at your home?" The undertones of Peka's question are intentionally subtle, and his charming smile is equally ambiguous.
Keep it simple, just need to gauge her reaction. Is she flirtatous? Or all business? Patience...
And just like that, the bud of respect I had for the man is gone., thinks Rose as she audibly rolls her eyes at Peka. She crosses her arms, letting her owl take to the skies. "Of course, baroness.", she says, saying the title the same way someone would pronounce 'Mrs.' "It is a pleasure to meet you as well. My name is Rose, and the gentleman's name is Benedict. The other one is Peka.", she says with a smile.
She takes a look at the door, starting to talk in an incomprehensible, sinister whisper. As she detects nothing conclusive, she frowns to herself.Damnit. Raising her eyes from the handle, not saying anything. "As far as I recall, kobolds are quite the crafty pests. We could assume that they're responsible for the tower collapsing, but there is only one way to know for sure.", she says, avoiding any questions in regards to the door with a cold gaze. "We will get on it straight away, baroness.", she mentions with a smile, as she starts walking away from the crowd, motioning for the others to follow.
As soon as the trio moves outside of hearing range for most of the populace, she looks at Benedict. "As far as I gathered, Benedict, you're quite the tracker. Do you think that maybe you can see where the kobold came from, before meeting its fiery end? I'd understand if you don't, dear, the stampeding masses had probably made your task much harder", she asks with a trace of understanding, raising a shaped eyebrow. Her eyes rise to the skies, as she locks down Niv with a cold, blue gaze. Building. Old Human Male. Find. Then come back., she relates as she pats down a non-existing wrinkle in her dress.
I wonder if there is something interesting in the Witch Tower. Though, I would sincerely doubt that a sister had had such a thing built. Overcompensation is a male flaw., she thinks as she makes her way towards the tower.
"Well, first things first, and the reason for the tower's collapse comes first," Lady Origena Devy explains to Benedict, "the kobolds living in the old quarry have left us alone in our businesses and have never caused any trouble, so I'd find it odd they'd decide to pester us now with a collapse of a building and leaving a calling card..." The baroness glances at the kobold's corpse still lying on the manor's porch.
The lady initially flinches Peka's sudden maneuver, but is too surprised to pull her hand away. Letting the desperate man make his advancements, she subtly scuttles away just a tiny bit. "Your... enthusiasm is most surprising, yet very welcome in our current situation. And you are welcome to report to me when you have something to report, of course, but don't make unnecessary visits a habit." The baroness gives a warm smile to Peka, but his expertise on women tells her expression hides an ice cold stare. Rose spots the same miles away, no wonder there.
Lady Origena Devy is more than happy to meet the third member of the group, who appears to possess the manners and demeanor of a noble. "I'm most glad to make your acquintance, miss Rose," she says, this time smiling genuinely. "It is certainly nice to know whom I'm assigning this mission. If this matter is thusby clear, I will return to my estate and leave Arnholde to keep the area clear for you to investigate. I suggest you don't pay too much attention to Hunclay and his manor. If he stumbles across you sneaking about his mansion, he might not be very... amiable."
Damn. Thought for sure she would be a cougar for sure. She might just be more interested in someone like Rose than me. Peka furrows his brow in contemplation, then shrugs his shoulders.
To each her own. There will be others in this town for sure.
Peka waits to catch eye contact with Rose, then nods at the Lady Devy, raising his eyebrows a couple of times and giving her a playful smile.
"Do you think we should go take a look around the quarry? Perhaps something with the other kobolds might give us some clues as to what this one was doing here." Peka directs his question to the other two with him, making it clear with his body language he doesn't care much where they go first.
"The kobolds might think bringing a corpse of their own would be a provocation of war," Lady Origena explains, "so I strongly advise against snooping around the quarry now. For what we know the kobolds might blame us for their loss."
Peka grimaces, though not because of the dissenting opinion, but instead because he realizes that the lady is probably right.
"Well then where might the wizard go, when he is not at his home?" Copper asks out of curiosity. "Or perhaps do you know of anyone who might be familiar with the tower here? Perhaps there is some detail they remember about what it looked like from the inside before it fell that would help us out."
Benedict and Rose scout the area around the tower while Peka remains to mingle with Lady Origena Devy.
Only fragments of the first and second floors still stand. An enormous heap of black, cracked stone and splintered wood from the tower lies in a low mound here, tumbled partially down the hill to the southeast. The mound of rubble forms a natural ramp that leads up to the now-exposed second floor of the tower above. The tower's original, ancient iron front door remains in place, but it's bulging, indicating how the rubble on the other side is pressing it shut, preventing anyone from using it to enter the tower.
From below it seems the second floor has only some smashed furniture and a sprinkling of rubble.
Meanwhile, Peka further asks for advice from the baroness, who sighs in response. But her sigh isn't a sign of frustration, more of saudade. "Familiar with the tower, yes, I might just know who," the lady says, gazing at the tower with a long stare. "My late, foolish husband had dug his nose too deep in the damn tower and lost his life poking around. I know not what caused his demise, but he hasn't returned, so it's safe to presume his death. The tower has become a... memorial. And after all this time, I'm not so surprised the tower fell—the wizard Hunclay has long pestered me for permission to knock the tower down. This whole setup is... worrying."
Rose nods at the baroness' suggestion to not provoke the kobolds. "Perhaps we should take care of the body, and find a way to relate the information to the kobolds in a way that they could think it over. I must admit, I still do not know Draconic to the point where I'd consider writing a message, but perhaps someone in here knows how to do so?" She looks to the skies. "It is in the nature of truth to be revealed. It is better for them to know the deaths from us, rather than some kobold finding out the charred corpse in the middle of the village, is it not? But we need to find the wizard, first.", she finishes with a roll of her eyes. Of course the wizard would be gone just as we need to talk to him. She takes a look at the crowd gathering and sees a young boy. "Hello there, young man, would you like to do a service for me?", she asks with a smile. "I'm looking for some sharp-eyed kid to keep an eye out for the wizard, and to run and find either one of us,", she points towards the trio, "or let Talia at the inn know that he is back. The payment, when you perform this, would be a gold crown. Do we have a deal?", she asks, extending her hand. I'd much rather the kid be spotted than a potentially crazy wizard than I, or one of the others.
Why we left the man to talk with the baroness, I do not know., Rose thinks as she climbs the hill. "The door is blocked, Benedict.", Rose says, waving at the bent out of shape metal. Most of the posture in her voice and movements is significantly dulled. "We would need to climb, and I have to admit I could be better at it.", she mentions as they approach the rubble. "If you find something you can't recognise, let me know, and I'll do the same." Her words are much simpler and to the point as before.
"I say we try to get to the first floor, somehow. Perhaps there would be a trapdoor or loose stone we could use to get there without having to risk breaking it further.", her reply after the analysis of the second floor is finished.
Rose attempts to climb the rubble.
Once upon the second floor, she begins searching for remains of what could have happened here.
"I am sorry for your loss, Baroness," Peka says with genuine sympathy. "How long have you been alo... ah... pardon me, without him?" He asks, some of his social awkwardness finally coming through. The man turns back to the tower and exhales a deep breath. "Was there anyone else who shared his curiosity? Surely he wasn't foolish enough to go in alone, was he?"
"Mental note for myself to ask the wizard why he was so interested in knocking this tower down." He mumbles to himself.
"Did someone say climb?" Peka announces his presence after his lingering discussion with the baroness.
"Turns out her husband disappeared some time ago poking around this tower. She just assumes he is dead. If he did die in here, we might just find his body poking around the rubble. Plus whoever else might have been with him."
Peka examines the broken wall and door, assessing the challenges of scaling the rubble to get inside and perhaps throw a rope down to help get the others up.
Benedict leans all his weight against the iron door, trying his strength against it. But it soon becomes evident the rubble beyond the door will not give way, and the man leaves the door alone. "Yes, blocked," he confirms Rose's earlier remark. But he had to try.
But even if the main door is blocked, there seems to be easy way in via the second floor. Benedict hastens his steps to catch up with the woman, and starts climbing the rubble towards the upper floor. Once there, he takes his trusty longbow from his shoulder, and checks that his arrows are in place. "There might still be kobolds about," he explains his behavior, before joining Rose in the investigation of the tower.
"It's been years, really, closer to a decade," Lady Origena explains, "and I assume many have succumbed to their curiosity. It is, after all, over two hundred years old. But I don't keep track of the people spelunking in ruinous towers, not my style."
"It seems your companions have decided to move on with the investigation. Maybe you should join them." The lady says the words with no hostility, merely slight amusement, and departs with a svelte turn.
Rose and Benedict both manage to get topside on the tower with relative ease, and now see a trap door on the floor set against the northwest wall, but a stout timber has fallen across it, promptly blocking access to it.
[Secret to Benedict the Ugly; Rose Waerloga: ]
Peka, while not as suave and debonair as he would like, is finally able to show off a bit to any onlookers as he clambers up to the second floor. On at least two occasions, he pauses dramatically, toned muscles flexed and displayed in a dashing pose.
"What do you see? Surely there is something interesting here." He trails off a bit.
I hope there are still kobolds here. The villagers will really think we are valuable if we could dispatch a pack or two of those sneaky creatures. Peka's mind spins as he listens to Rose and Benedict talk out the beginnings of the search of the second floor.
"I like where your head is at, Rose." he smiles at the lady. "First floor, first order of business..." he mutters to himself as he looks around for a way to get down.
"This floor's clear!" Benedict reports, once it is quite evident there are no kobolds in here. The hunter-priest relaxes his grip on his bow, and throws the weapon over his shoulder.
Only one way to go...
Suspecting that Rose is far too lady-like for physical labor, Benedict walks over to the timber-covered trapdoor, and starts lift the rubble out from the trapdoor's way.
Now where is that womanizer..? This would be done much faster with two pairs of hands.
It takes little effort from Benedict to lift the heavy timber off the trap door. The door seems safe enough to open, and so Benedict does the honors. It opens up to a dark room, one wall replaced with thick debris. The tower's large ground floor has mostl collapsed under the rubble, but along the western portion of the room a section remains clear of debris. An iron trap door set in the floor is directly below a companion door in the ceiling above. Shattered wooden furniture lies scattered around the corpses of two small, green-scaled creatures.
"Nice work Benedict! Sorry for not helping you sooner, I was enchanted by the view." he throws a sly wink at Rose, just to keep her on her toes.
"Isn't that curious..." he mutters as he drops into the room delicately and sees the corpses. "I wonder how long they have been here?"
Before inspecting the bodies closer, he does a quick once over of the room, making sure there are no threats apparent, then looks to see how long the bodies have been dead for.
Peka kneels down to inspect the kobold corpses. Even to the untrained eye, Peka easily notices the blood is still liquid; these kobolds died to the collapse. Their bodies are partially under the rubble.
Otherwise the floor is void of anything of value.
"Ah-Ha!" Peka exclaims with a satisfied grin, "These kobolds were alive in here when the tower collapsed. Now we must find out if they caused it, or were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Peka gives them a once over to see if they have any gear on them that might indicate whether they had been here long enough to be squatting, or if they might have traveled from some distance away. He then looks around for signs of something or someone living in the blocked off room, clearing some of the rubble from around the bodies.
After a minute of grumbling to himself about the light, he decides that perhaps it would be best to light a torch.
The kobolds don't appear to have anything of use now, since all their equipment got shattered in the collapse. Regardless, it's evident they were lightly equipped, as the rubble lacks any signs of large weaponry.
"Better question is, why they were here in the first place."
And perhaps investigating the tower ruins thoroughly will provide the answers. Benedict taps his greataxe, to check it is still in place. He favors longbow, the favored weapon of Erastil, but he is not sure if it is the optimal weapon in such cramped space. But the bow still in hand, the priest stands by the trapdoor, and motions for Peka to open the hatch.
The ladder continues down to a dark cellar, which opens into a large room with two wings, west and east. Both sport several old beds with ripped sheets, showing signs of decades of wear. On the south side there's wide corridor leading to an old iron door. North of the door, between the two wings lies an alcove holding a grinning iron maiden.
From the west wing strange munching can be heard emanating from the east wing. With a cursory glance there appears to be a pair of giant centipedes feasting on some carcass, minding their own business. They appear to disregard the humanoids entering the barracks.
Rose glances over the centipedes, sighing. "Dear me, how lovely. Do let me know if you need more than crossbow bolts from me on these ones.", Rose whispers, unsheathing the small crossbow from her back. "The centipede is usually a carrion eater, and wouldn't attack us. I'd be careful, regardless.", she continues.
"Peka, my dear, if you wouldn't mind going in first?", she turns towards the blond man, smiling. "Go towards the closed door. I'll stay in the middle, if you don't mind.", she continues.
"I'd like to see what those corpses are. Perhaps more kobolds?" Peka muses for a moment, sliding a dagger out of a sheath, and slipping his whooping stick into his off hand for the moment.
"Hope you two don't mind, but I would rather get these things out of the way before something goes wrong."
The brash gambler cocks his right arm back, pinching the tip of his dagger blade between his thumb and forefinger, Looking to Rose and Benedict for confirmation before loosing his blade at the unsuspecting carrion eaters.
When the group ventures into darker parts of the tower, Benedict utters a quiet prayer to Erastil. And the priest's prayer is answered by a light, which starts emenating from one arrowhead. With this arrow ready and nocked, Benedict is ready to move onwards.
--
"Probably another kobold." Benedict voices out his suspicion about the carcass. It might not be worth bothering the centipedes. But since Peka is picking up a fight, let him have one. He places himself to have a clear shot at the creatures, draws the bow, and takes aim along the shaft of the arrow.
"Go", he whispers, and releases the arrow right after Peka's dagger leaves the man's hand.
Peka rushes over to the centipedes, but his blade is thwarted by the thick carapace. Similarly, Benedict's arrow is easily deflected by the same carapace. Sensing a new threat, the vermin turn to face Peka, and attempt to make him their new dinner. With his newfound abilities, though, Peka easily steps away from the hungry insects.
Well that could have gone better... the gambler grimaces.
Now without a blade, his hanbo in his left hand, Peka decides to use his feet to optimal effect first. Keeping his balance, he lashes out with his right foot, hoping to punch through the carapace of the hundred-legged creature.
Benedict scratches his nose for a moment, thinking how could he not hit such immobile enemy. Not wanting to brood on his miss for too long, he grabs, draws and releases another arrow in one fluid motion.
With a deft kick Peka is able to penetrate the thick carapace, squashing the monstrous vermin into a mushy goo. The other one, sensing the pheromones released by the dead one's body, keeps protecting its food. But before it can get to that, a swift arrow flies by Peka, expertly hitting the centipede square in the head. All movement stops in its body, and the vermin threat has ended just as quickly as it started.
"Huh.", Rose says, expertly ducking away from a splash of goo. "That was quite the show, gentlemen.", she continues, lifting the skirts of her dress as she walks over the centipede bodies, heading towards the door. "Now does anyone have skills in the realm of skullduggery? Or should I find you a crowbar?", she asks plainly, pointing towards the iron door.
A flutter of soft wings reminds of Niv's presence as the owl flaps down towards the centipede and begins to feed. "Do remember to clean yourself after, dear.", Rose says kindly, but sternly to the owl as small giblets of flesh start disappearing down the owl's gullet. "Fairly nutritional, I've heard.", she flashes a toothy smile at Benedict.
"There are many things I am good at, darling." Peka flashes a playful smile, fully expecting a grimace from the lady.
He approaches the door, looking carefully for anything that might be intended to keep intruders and skullduggers out before inspecting the lock. Satisfied when he is sure nothing is going to fly from a secret hole and stick him in the neck, he gets to work on getting the door open.
I wonder how long it will take her to notice I have no clue what I am doing...
"Yes, nutritious. Helps to survive if no game is available." Benedict's answer sounds uncomfortably like he has experience on that. Whatever humor Rose had on her remark, is completely lost with the hunter.
Benedict retrieves his arrows, in hopes they could be used for another shot. And while disloding the arrow from the centipede, he finds a good opportunity to check that the creatures were feasting on.
The door refuses to budge by normal means. It does appear to be locked, and requires a key. Of course, a skilled locksmith could open the door with proper tools.
"Need help?" Benedict asks, after watching Peka inspecting the lock for a bit too long a time. He moves closer and prepares to give a hefty kick to the door, if Peka decides to crack the door instead of the lock.
"Erm... Yea. Lend me your shoulder..." the cocky, but slightly humbled man responds to Benedict's offer.
"One... Two... *HRNNNG*" he counts in order to time the blow as he lowers his shoulder and rams the door.
With proper teamwork both Benedict and Peka are able to knock down the door, which falls from its hinges and plummets to the ground, creating an echoing, loud thump. A plume of dust jumps up behind the dark, chilly corridor, leading both right and left. In the dim torchlight they spot obvious jail doors on both sides, including a peep hole with a sliding metal sheet, and a low hole at the bottom for food and water deliveries. Each of the doors are slightly ajar, and have rusted hinges. No bones or other signs of dead prisoners lie within these cells.
With no obvious danger ahead, the scout ahead to see where the corridors lead. The odd architecture reveals many cell doors, and a longer corridor that leads up another door, which differs from the cell doors. This one is a sturdy, steel-reinforced wooden door.
A curious semicircular stone ridge runs along the ceiling of the hallway. It's about 6 inches across, and blends quite nicely to the ceiling.
Peka grins at Rose and pats Benedict on the back. "There is more than one way to pick a lock." He chuckles as he steps over the slab and into the darkened hall.
"It doesn't look like anyone is home, but let's try to be a little careful. I'd be happy to scout ahead, but I'm not that great at being quiet." Peka shrugs his shoulders as he looks down at the door while the clouds of dust begin to settle.
"I doubt the kobolds made it into this hall, unless they had the keys." Copper shares his thoughts as he looks into each of the cells he passes.
Peka has no trouble seeing all the fine details on the wall's masonry in the dim torchlight, leading the brave way to the unknown. The curious semicircle in the ceiling appears to have a clay crust, and underneath it would be made of some heavier material. The ceiling's just over 7 feet above the ground, so Peka can easily reach the low ceiling.
He soon comes upon something that raises his interest; a crack in the wall with moss pushing through it. Incidentally, it appears to be a secret door leading to another corridor, but time has eventually made the secret mechanism fail and made detection a lot easier. Inside this another corridor a much more stale, rotten smell greets Peka's nose. The cell doors here appear to be fast close, but otherwise identical to the ones in the previous hallway.
Water dripping in a distance echoes throughout the barren corridors, breaking the eerie silence. It is evident this place hasn't been traversed by humans or other sentient humanoids in a very long time. The cold, damp environment has a small breath of fresh Summer air, the breeze coming from the open trap door where the group came from.
"I'll guard the rear," Benedict mutters and waits for the others to move. Then, with slow steady steps he starts following Peka and Rose. The priest moves as silently as his boots and armour allows, but he normally stalks on softer ground, and the hard dungeon floor seems to make a lot of noise.
"Let's investigate this first," Benedict points to the corridor beyond the secret door.
Benedict grunts, suddenly losing his balance. His head is spinning, as if the world had suddenly went upside down. The priest leans against the dungeon wall, and rubs his temples. Then, the feeling passes, and the world feels stable again.
"I'm fine," he says, and readies the bow once again. "Are we going?"
Peka coughs once, then twice, trying to clear the smell from his nose.
"This way," he managed to choke out, waving his hand forward.
-Posted with Wayfinder
Rose walks slowly after the two, before smiling, raising her crossbow. "Age before beauty, my friend.", she says, the white owl perching up on her shoulder. "I'd suggest looking whether or not the door's locked?", she suggests almost patronisingly. "I don't know if either of us has the... artificer skills needed to open a door without a key, do we?"
"Heh. My shoulder worked just fine last time. You would be surprised what a well placed body part can do for getting where you want to go."
Peka almost can't contain the chuckle at his distasteful humor, but manages to nonetheless. The grin on his face says it all anyways.
Keeping his eyes peeled, and a lit torch in front of him, the gambling man carefully works his way down the secret hall, musing about how he is likely the first living thing to do so in a very, very long time.
Copper sees that all the iron doors in the secret corridor are still locked and held closed fast, and some appear to have rusted shut. Opening the rusted shutter creates a loud screech, and inside the cells are bones of deceased humanoids huddled to the corners in a fetal position. It is apparent even without closer inspection these individuals died of starvation.
Peka gets to walk the forgotten corridor for some time before suddenly an arm surges through an open shutter out into the corridor. The pale, scrawny arm flails about as if to find something to grab onto. A hoarse voice speaks in pain and agony beyond the iron door.
"Oh, gods, kind faces! Aroden bless you, noble souls! I ain't seen the jailers in ages, I think they forgot about us! We ain't eaten in days and the water's all but gone-my cousins're both sick. I swear we'd give back the boar if we could, but we ate it, starvin' as we was. We didn't even know it was the baron's lands, didn't know we was poachin'! I beg you, we're all gonna die in here! Kindness, noble souls, we've suffered awful! Good Baron Sarvo wills it!"
"How long have you been here? Do you know why the tower collapsed?" Benedict lowers his bow, and approaches the prisoners.
"Do you have any food or water with you?" he asks his companions. "I left mine at the inn."
"Water! Food! Good Baron Sarvo wills it!" the prisoner whimpers, apparently ignoring Benedict's questions.
Baron Sarvo was a Belhaim lord who rebelled against the crown in 4500 AR, and was the last Canteclure to rule Belhaim.
Rose walks calmly into the room. "Baron Salvo, you say? The name rings familiar, yet I can't quite put my finger on it...", she whispers, putting a finger on her lips.
She struts confidently towards the prisoner. "Darling, we didn't expect to see you here, and we've had all sorts of drinks and food outside. Why don't you answer my good friend here, and we promise, we'll take you outside and give you all the food you want?", she purrs.
"You mentioned sick cousins, did you not, dear?", she asks, looking around. "I might be able to mend their sickness, as it is, but you need to tell us what we want to know." The warmth in her eyes disappears suddenly as she turns around, looking up at Peka. "Darling, we might need to take a small trip to the inn. It shouldn't take you too long, I think?", she whispers in the man's ear.
Peka nods along with Rose's suggestion, oblivious to the coldness and condescension in it.
"Lemme just figure out how to get this door open..." he says, looking over the bars intently.
Hoping that age has withered away the lock's strength, Peka tries the brute force method first.
Peka's hands cannot grip the bars well, and they slip right from his fingers with barely a yank. Undeterred, he tries again.
"Hey, maybe we should look for a key or something. Don't worry pal, we will have you out of there in no time!"
As he looks, he brushes up to Rose while Benedict is nearby as well, and speaks in hushed tones. "So anyone have any ideas how this one survived for so long while everyone else appears to have withered away to dust a long, looooooong time ago?"
Peka's attempts to use brute force on the door, but failing that Rose is unable to reach the prisoner within the room. Still none are able to see the face of the man behind bars, but Copper realized the man's arm is too pale to be real, actually, it's slightly transparent! But quickly, suddenly, the prisoner's pale arm begins to wither in front of the group's eyes, its skin peeling away in a rapid pace.
"So... hungry!" the man shrieks, its howl echoing in the corridor as the arm straight out vaporizes in front of the group, the bony fingers turning into fine dust and gusting away in an invisible breeze. A strange and uncomfortable sensation grips the adventurers, their stomachs convulsing forcibly. All of a sudden it feels like none of them have had any sort of meal since their departure from Maheto, starving the moment they passed the gates.
The room beyond where the prisoner was is completely empty, not even holding the bones of the dead. It appears barren, even lacking chains attached to walls.
Amidst the plain walls there are vertical cracks that go along the walls, forming what distinctly looks like a secret door against the northern wall. Upon closer inspection it really does appear to be secret door, leading somewhere.
Peka tries to get away, recoiling in horror and berating himself for not seeing something like this coming. The pain is overwhelming in his stomach, so he drops his pack and digs through it with an unnatural urgency.
"Don't judge me..." he whimpers to the others, for some reason worried about what they might think of him as he begins to stuff his face with the trail rations stored in his backpack.
Breathing heavily, the pain in his stomach begins to slowly subside. Crumbs all over his face and chest, he looks feebly up at the others, holding out more rations should they be as hungry as he was.
After the aching in his stomach has faded to a manageable level, Peka notices the flask of whiskey at the bottom of his pack. "Whats this love? How did I forget about that?" He unscrews the cap, taking a pull and savoring the burn that goes down his throat, as well as the beginnings of the flush that seems to take the edge off of his anxiety.
"Well hopefully that ghost doesn't come back. Let's see what else is in this room."
Peka pokes around the cell, hoping to find something useful.
"Hey! There is another door in here! To bad this poor chap couldn't find it before... well..." Peka trails off as he pushes, pulls, and otherwise looks for a way to open the secret door.
Benedict feels a lurch in his stomach, and suddenly an immense, ravenous hunger overcomes him. He looks back and forth, trying to find something, or anything, to eat. But before he is able to take a single step, his knees fail him, and the priest falls towards the cold dungeon floor. His consciousness fades into black, and in his last thoughts Benedict wishes he had brought some food with him.
It takes about a quarter of an hour for Rose and Benedict to get back on their feet, and wake up from their slumber. Peka is quick to offer his rations to the weakened party members.
Peka sips on his expensive whiskey while time passes. He tries to give his companions bits of food at a time, so as not to upset their stomachs with too much too soon. The minutes tick by in the dark and musty hall.
At least no one is chasing us...
After a long wait till the group feels rejuvenated enough, Peka opens the secret door. Beyond opens a long corridor leading to a contraption filled with gears and chains connecting various parts to another. It sits there dormant, with the exception of an idle ball of crackling light above it.
It appears to be a lightning elemental, a small one at that. It doesn't seem to do anything at the moment.
Beside the contraption there is a lever painted with red, although the paint has cracked badly, showing the its long age. In addition to the machine, the corridor holds nothing else of intrigue.
Rose barely has time to react before a bellowing pain in her stomach sends her into blackness. As she wakes, she takes a long look at the surroundings, eyes catching the sight and nose catching the smell of food and locking onto it. Now don't go crazy. Why would I be so stupid to move that close to what was obviously something unnatural in nature... Oh and he's there. Of course he hasn't fainted.
Rose stands up, reaching over for the food. "I must ask, dear, was it necessary to drag me through seemingly every patch of mud and dust on the way here?", she says coldly, taking her food in small bites. "Although, thank you.", she says with a trace of a smile, dusting herself off.
Finishing the dry bread, Rose passes on half of a jerky to Niv, who gulps it down in a single bite. "Manners, dear.", she says to the owl, patting her on the head. "So, anything interesting while we were... preoccupied? Or was it just an opportune moment to enjoy the company of liquor in peace and quiet?", she asks, giving a hand to Benedict. I believe I could possibly eat a whole chicken right now., Rose thinks as her stomach rumbles. Fully ignoring the sound, she taps her crossbow, and as the wood starts glowing, she taps her foot. "Shall we?"
"If only I could have caught you before you fell," Copper says to the lady in a slight bow. Whether it was mocking or genuine is nearly impossible to tell.
"It would have been more peaceful, if not for the rumbling in my own stomach. Thank the gods I found this at the bottom of the pack though." he smiles, lifting the flask in the air. After a bit of thought and internal struggle, he decides to offer the flask to both Rose and Benedict, though secretly hoping they will decline.
"I've no idea what this would be. To bad Silas didn't hire a bookworm eh?" he smirks as he inspects the strange machine. "So anyone have a problem with me pulling this lever?" he asks as he reaches for the red painted contraption.
There isn't anything pointy here is there? Just gotta make sure this isn't some sort of torture device before I pull this thing... he gives another once-over, pausing to see if either of his companions have any objections.
Rose takes a long look at the flask, before grabbing it. She runs her sleeve over the neck of the flask, before taking a few strong sips. "Thank you, dear. I am afraid my knowledge of machinery is somewhat rusty. I'll be sure to... rectify that when I have the chance.", she says, returning the somewhat lightened flask to Peka.
She rolls her eyes. "I would very much advise against it, darling. I'd like to see if there is any magic active in here before you continue. Unless you'd prefer us taking several steps back and see if you get incinerated or turned into a frog.", she smiles, waiting for Peka's reaction. Suddently her eyes flash and turn pitch black.
The apparatus doesn't appear to be magical by itself, but the sparkling object above it appears to have magical components. In fact, it appears to be a "living" thing, some sort of an elemental.
"Careful with that.." Benedict mumbles, remembering far too well the strange dangers this old tower hides within its crumbling wall.
"Perhaps we better search rest of the tower, first," he advices. But in case Peka decides to pull the lever, the priest stays back, fingering nervously the bowstring in his right hand.
The elemental creature doesn't react to Peka coming over to the contraption. The machine appears to be dormant, with a chain leading to the edge of the western wall and the ceiling.
Peka's hand pulls back, away from the lever.
Would you rather... Incinerated or turned into a frog? Hmmm... Incinerated. Not sure I could convince someone to kiss me if I was a frog. For Aroden's sake, I can't even get them to kiss me now...
Peka offers a weak smile to Rose and backs away from the contraption.
His eyes follow the chain, studying the wall and where it leads to on the ceiling.
"You are probably both right. Maybe there is something else here that would give us a clue as to what this is. I'm not sure it helps us with our quest to find answers about why the tower collapsed in the first place." Looking back at the contraption one more time, Peka lets out a sigh.
"Yes, we can come back later..."
Peka turns to leave the room, confident there are answers down here somewhere.
The contraption appears to be climbable, although the risk of injury seems present. Peka decides to leave the machine alone for now.
"Let's search all the rooms here. Then search rest of tower."
Benedict loses bit of his tension, now that Peka wasn't going to pull the lever. Wiping cold sweat from his forehead, the priest moves back to the corridor. There he places himself in position by the next door, waiting for Peka to open it.
All the while trying to forget the horrible churning in his stomach.
As the party scours through the dungeon, they eventually come to a conclusion; there's only one door left unopened at the end of a twisty corridor, a curious half-circled tube going along the ceiling connected to a curious contraption with an elemental creature attached to it.
And just to make sure they didn't miss anything, they double take the barracks where the ladder leads back up. Near a forgotten corpse they find a pair of curious truesilver (mithral) daggers, with peculiar notches and grooves on the blade's flat face.
Staring back at the strange contraption they left not to long ago, Peka finally screws up his courage to climb up higher and get a better look at this elemental, magic looking thing.
"What do you suppose it could be? Could it power something like this, or is that even possible?" Peka asks, laying is ignorance of the arcane arts bare for all to see.
Peka is able to climb higher to see the elemental from eye level. It doesn't react at all, but small, harmless arcs of thin lightning travel intermittently between Peka's metal objects to the creature.
Rose sighs. "Well, I suppose we'll be forced to do something with this. I am assuming that you'd still be willing to pull said lever, wouldn't you, dear?", the witch smiles at Peka, remaining at a reasonable distance. "As for the power, I am afraid I know only a great deal more than you, and sadly still not enough.", she says, a trace of annoyance in her voice. [
"Nevertheless, I don't believe that an elemental this size would be able to cause much harm. Not with you being so brave and noble to protect me.", she smiles, turning to the elemental in turn. "I am afraid that I'm somewhat lacking in my knowledge of Auran, dear. I'm sorry if this would cause you harm, and I hope you understand.", she says slowly to the elemental.
"Pull it, darling!", she says to Peka.
The elemental, surprisingly, doesn't reply to Rose.
Without further ado Peka complies thanks to Rose's kind words, and climbs down just to pull the ominous red lever. The contraption comes to life, and the elemental above begins to strike lightning to the machine, powering it up. The gears start to whirr and turn, a coil of chain starting to pull the heavy iron back to the machine through the curious tube in the ceiling. The loud clangs echo throughout the corridors, and once the contraption has finished its business, silence returns to the dungeon. The elemental above appears to have been consumed, since most of it has been vanished to power the gear-laden machine.
"Fascinating..." Peka mumbles, staring dumbfounded up at the ceiling where the elemental has shrunk.
"Who comes up with this stuff?" he says with respect and awe in his voice. "Where do you think it went, whatever it did?"
Eager to see what the chain might have been connected to on the other side, Peka verily runs back to where they came in, heading upstairs to find what the tube and chain might have been connected to.
Peka follows the tube excitedly, not waiting for the others. When it disappears through the wall, he verily runs to the nearest door he thinks may lead to the other side of the chain.
"C'mon! You two are slower than a sea slug. Don't tell me you aren't at least a little bit intrigued! I know you couldn't be afraid, what with me here to protect you..." Peka uses Rose's own words with a wink and devious smile. He is confident it will either make her laugh, or annoy her to no end.
Either outcome, he decides, is equally worth the jab.
Rose sighs, putting a hand on her hip. "Oh my, how could I possibly forget my powerful guardian. No, dear, it's because some of us have the composure not to act like an excitable puppy about to be adopted, darling. Patience is yet another virtue I notice you lacking.", she sends a condescending smile at Peka. "Although, I must admit I am a little bit curious. Do be careful when you open the door, dear, if there's a trap I don't want blood on my dress." And then he says I don't care...
Rose stands carefully, a small pool of darkness visible in her hand. "Just a precaution, dear."
It takes a few attempts from the eager Peka to finally push through the swollen door, its turgid, wooden planks pushing agains the frames. The decayed door falls down, creating a loud bang as the irons fall on the stone floor.
Beyond the door opens a curious yet flagrant room. There can be little doubt what purpose this chamber once served. The dank room stores an ancient rack, a fanciful brazen bull, an iron maiden, a cauldron, iron chairs with sharp edges and cruel protuberances, and a wooden table upon which sit various implements of torture. A bronze plaque affixed to the western wall depicts a crowing rooster above crossed spears. Underneath the spear, a short phrase is inscribed:
"Confession Cleanses the Soul - Pain Clarifies the Mind."
The plaque depicts the crest of Canteclure, accompanied with the family motto.
"...Clarifies the mind..." Peka mumbles to himself as he begins to take a few steps into the room, echoing the words on the plaque.
That doesn't look very comfortable. Maybe I should just stay by the door.
Peka continues to shuffle forward, his expression curious, but his mind clouded with confusion. "...Cleanses the soul..." he speaks again, his nose scrunched up a bit as he seems to be deep in thought.
All the while he mumbles, he continues his trek across the room, making a bee-line for the iron chairs.
Hey dufus. You in here? Who is controlling this ship? Stay by the door, stay by the door!
For reasons he may never fully understand, the confused voices in his head continue to scream at the apparent danger the gambling man is walking straight into, yet he cannot stop himself. He approaches the Iron chair as if it were a throne, and reverently turns.
"Confession Cleanses the Soul. I cheated that man before I took the caravan with Silas. Slept with his wife too, the poor woman just wanted someone to pay attention to her. That's why I had to leave so fast. Yes... Soul Cleansing." His face does not appear to be relieved, now that he has confessed his burden, if it ever truly was a burden on his soul.
In a sudden flash, Peka flips his cape away from his backside and sits down on the sharp chair, all the while his mind screaming at him that the plaque is a dirty, heretical lie.
The chair's sharp edges barely hurt Peka, but enough to make him bleed. A high-pitched cackle emanates above the crest, and soon from invisibility a form of a raven appears sitting on its edge. It begins to speak in a shrill voice.
"Greetings, fine citizens of our glorious empire! So good to have visitors, though I fear I have no refreshments to offer. I assume you are here for the treasure. Well, I'd be happy to assist, provided that
you give me what I require! It has been so long since I was able to ply my trade. I require only that each of you shed your life's blood in this room—simply take a seat in one of my lovely chairs."
The raven motions towards the same chairs Peka sat in with its wing.
The phrase in the plaque is a solid advice, and one Benedict is no stranger to. Beneath his tunic, his back is filled with scars from self-flagellation, and even now they remind the priest of the relieving touch of pain. But while surely a sinner, Peka doesn't seem quite a repentant type. And yet he spits out confenssions and forces himself upon the chair. Something is not right here... And the appearance of the raven doesn't make this any less strange.
"We seek no treasure. Just the reason why the tower collapsed."
It looks like a raven. But real birds don't talk, nor appear from thin air
And anyone demanding payment in blood cannot be up to any good. Not moving an inch closer to the chair, Benedict moves his hand almost automatically to grab and nock an arrow.
"Who are you?, and why you want blood" he demands.
"You wouldn't hurt a harmless bird, would you?" the raven answers with the now-familiar shrill voice. "It has been awfully quiet and dull under the earth here, and I merely wish to once again make the best out of my old profession. Maybe I know a thing or two about what you know, but, well, I made my offerings clear, didn't I?"
The raven turns its head around as if to check all its surroundings, imitating very birdlike movements.
Peka turns his head in a trance-like manner, tilting it sideways just a bit, much like the bird he speaks to.
His voice is monotone, giving very little infleciton until the last few words. "Pray tell, what is that profession? Come now, Confession Cleanses the Soul." Peka's body remains still, though his head tilts along with his speech in an eerie manner.
"I've heard of wizards who keep crows to help them study, because the peculiar birds have a knack for picking up and even speaking languages. You aren't a friend of Hunclay, the local wizard of these parts, are you?"
The pain of the blades is biting, but so far seems to be annoying more than anything else. He remains still, and the scene is creepy to behold, as he awaits the bird's answer.
"Hunclay? Never have I ever even heard the name!" the raven quacks, "nor have I had myself a master for a long time. You are clever minds, and speak up so openly! It's refreshing, but also... it spoils the fun. My master was a torturer, as you already gatherer, a profession some like to look down upon, yet in times of war my service becomes invaluable."
"Ah. The ancient crest of Canteclure...", Rose mentions, shifting her weight from one leg to another. She sighs at Peka's confession. And what's wrong with that? A fool was cheated and a fool was cheated with..., she thinks as she smiles at the bird. "But of course, I wouldn't, dear.", she smiles. "She would, however.", she nods at Niv, the night owl's claws digging deep into the leather gauntlet.
"That would be if you were a defenseless bird, however, and clearly, you're not. I suggest that we start and introduce ourselves to each other, and then have a civil discussion about this. I am Rose.", she relays with a confident tone. She smiles. "Plus, the smell in here is torture enough, if you can't live without it."
The raven steps awkwardly on the crest's edge, as a man would shift into a more comfortable position on a chair.
"To keep my true identity as an enigma, I'll keep my guise", the raven fully admits, turning its head to look at Rose with both its eyes. "You are all free to guess all you want, however, but it would be a fruitless endeavor. Regardless, I am Harzogopas. It's been an immeasurably long time since I last had a chat with witty people such as yourselves."
"And since you are so reluctant to bring gratification to a raven on a crest, I guess we can talk about something else than this curious dungeon we are in. Tell me, who was this Hunclay you spoke of? And what are you doing in here anyway? It probably comes as no surprise to you why I'm trappd here, surely you haven't come all the way here to meet poor, lone Harzogopas, now have you?"
"I am Peka. Copper they call me sometimes, usually on account of that being the only thing in my pockets."
As long as he doesn't move, the blades seem to have settled and cause no further damage. A part of his mind screams to get up, but curiously, he can't seem to bring himself to.
"We are here to investigate this tower, and why it had collapsed. Now it is your turn to share some information. We can see clearly this is a torture room, and you are apparently it's master. Why is this place here, and who used to inhabit this place? "
"I can't give you any more information about the wizard Hunclay, save his name. We are searching for him, in hopes he could help she'd some light on what has happened here. "
-Posted with Wayfinder
Rose looks at the raven, a flicker of darkness crossing her eyes. "My loose-lipped companion is indeed correct. Frankly, Harzogopas, I am not terribly fond of exchanging niceties.", she smiles. "Though one can surely be witty when talking business, too. Tell me, have you anything to offer that could be mutually beneficial? And what purpose does the blood sacrifice serve? Purely out of... professional interest.", she smiles, casually leaning on the door's frame.