"Oh!" the mother, Isadorer, exclaims. She blushes a bit, even though you referred to Bophre, and not her. "Well, let's hope it never comes to that. Too many people are going missing. Our druid and his wife were due back by here more than two months ago, but no one's seen them. I think they took a wrong turn or came upon some nasty trouble - though what could be scary enough to give them trouble I'd rather not think about!"
She insists you all stay and sit awhile. She pours out tall glasses of milk for everyone. "Malak farm milk is the best in the world. You'll find it very refreshing, I promise."
Those who drink the milk find it to be, indeed, the best dairy product that's ever graced your lips. It's not long before she's bringing out full platters of food, insisting you all stay for supper. At the end of your stay, she places in Hanzo's arms a large crate full of 10 jars more of milk. Tucked in-between the jars is a small pouch with 200 gp.
"Certainly they would be able to handle a kobold or two. You never know with these wilderness loving druids where they would wonder." Sheaorlis commented but notices quickly that his words could have been a little too harsh. "Do you know what path they usually follow or if they were so late on other occasions?"
After waiting to see that both the guests and the master of the house were drinking from the milk Sheorlis tried a sip timidly at first then drank the whole glass.
Joriannika hugged Mrs. Malak back, exclaiming, "We're so glad we found them, and that Bophre and the others made it back safely!"
When they entered the farmhouse, she knelt by Bophre, still giving her a bit of distance. "Hello again! I'm really glad you're safe and sound. What you went through was terrible, but you're home now. If you ever need anything, please let me know."
Joriannika was thrilled to stay for supper, getting to know the Malak family better (and glad she'd taken her bath first). She steered the conversation toward lighter subjects, hoping to set Bophre at ease - but she was thinking about what might have happened to that poor druid and his wife.
When offered the milk, she accepted it with thanks, and amazement at its quality. "This is the best milk I've ever had!"
Lowering her voice, she asked Mrs. Malak after Sheaorlis spoke, "Do you know where the druid and his wife live? Maybe we could take a look for them, make sure they're all right."
Hanzo also hugged Mrs. Malak back, and stayed for supper, which he was thrilled about simply for it being a good, free meal. He thanked Mrs. Malak profusely for the milk, though he was wondering how he might keep it cold. "Not to be impertinent, Mrs. Malak, but do you think we could use your cellar to keep the milk cold in? Then we'll also have an excuse to come back and visit often," he said with a roguish grin.
He suppressed a sigh when Jori offered to go look for the druid. He wasn't fond of the wilderness at the best of times; wilderness that might have killed a druid was wilderness he Did Not Like.
"We just have to do the job for the Baroness first," he temporized.
"That's a good idea, Hanzo. I was about to suggest we need to ask Talia for antoher favor and store the milk in her cellar..."
Thomas also frowned at Joriannika's suggestion. He was really looking forward for some relaxing.
At the sincerity of Jori's words, Bophre makes eye contact for the first time, though only briefly, followed by a few shaky nods in agreement. Despite attempts at light conversation, it's not long before Bophre stands and weakly says she is going to turn in for the night.
Replying to the inquisitor's inquiry, she gives a simple, slow shake of the head. "I do not, unfortunately."
At Hanzo's request, Isadorer Malak's eyes widen slightly as if it hadn't occurred to her that you wouldn't have a place to store the milk.
"Oh! I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking. I don't mind storing it for you here. Oh, Talia has a very nice cellar too, I inspected that myself to ensure it would keep our products. If you're staying there, I know she'd let you use it. But either way is fine with me. I'll cook for you anytime."
"They live on the small island just west of here. Cross the bridge into town, turn left along the river, and you'll see it behind a row of trees."
The cleric remains mostly quiet during the visit since he was not directly involved with the freeing of the girl, but attends as he is now a member of the larger group.
He converses politely and pays some respects and compliments as he tries to access the situation.
He observes the girl. The cleric having seen horrors, both medical and mental from battlefields to city streets tries to make a medical assessment.
He asks for his gods blessing to guide his words.
”Sometimes when you are the most exhausted you find it most hard to sleep. May I offer you something from my medical kit that will help you sleep and avoid fitful dreams. Taken with this most wonderful milk I think it would do you well.”
Bophre is actually in decent physical health; A sick, hurt, or dying slave is a worthless slave, in a slave-owner's mind. But you are practiced enough to know that this young girl's scars are deep. Much deeper than flesh. You're confident one of the powdered herbs in your kit will aid her considerably, as it relaxes the mind and body, as well as suppresses dreams.
Bophre looks at the cleric a moment, then at her mother, then back at the cleric, and quietly thanks you, accepting the offer.
"Yes, the milk, is not bad..." His gaze drops to the crate with the jars of milk, feeling awkward from the small talk they've been having. Noticing the young lady excusing herself, the inquisitor snaps back to his usual senses. "I pray you return to full health soon. It seems we have more pressing matters at hand. Should we pay the druids a visit as well? Their disappearance should not be ignored any longer and if something had happened to them the authorities need to be informed." Sheaorlis tried not to sound too accusatory after the warm welcome they were given.
the next morning, Thomas woke up and felt much better. After their return he finally got his bath and in combination with a bottle of rum he could temporarily shut Belmanok up.
After breakfast, he didn't wait for any company and went straight to Baccus Smithy, who had had this winderful blade. He was hoping to make another useful purchase in the form of a shine breastplate. And wow got he lucky. Smithy had a marvellous piece of fresh metal shaped into a breastplate and ornated with the structure of dragon scales. Due to Thomas' average human stature, it fit him almost perfectly, with barely any modifications.
the next morning, Thomas woke up and felt much better. After their return he finally got his bath and in combination with a bottle of rum he could temporarily shut Belmanok up.
After breakfast, he didn't wait for any company and went straight to Baccus Smithy, who had had this winderful blade. He was hoping to make another useful purchase in the form of a shine breastplate. And wow got he lucky. Smithy had a marvellous piece of fresh metal shaped into a breastplate and ornated with the structure of dragon scales. Due to Thomas' average human stature, it fit him almost perfectly, with barely any modifications.
During your small talk with the surprisingly gentle smithy, he mentions a rumor to you
"Now this here is just hearsay, so don't be going and taking my word as law, but I aheard talk of strange sightings people may or may not have seen out in the hills. Just, be careful if you go a'wanderin in the hills. There's old mine shafts and dank caves all over the place and, it's said that many are infested with the ghosts of miners."
"I know we said we'd clear the house, but how pressing could that be? The... owner is dead. And that druid and his wife may be in trouble," Jori reasoned.
***
The next day, after another bath, Joriannika was feeling good. She tipped the innkeep and tithed to the church of Shelyn, listening to a sermon to lift her spirits.
Then she walked into town to see what supplies she might pick up.
Hanzo took some of the milk back to the inn with him, asking the innkeep to store it in the cellar for him. He drank some in the morning, and after getting clean, he was feeling a bit better.
He went into town immediately to resupply, thinking that some good armor or something would be useful. He found Thomas at the smith, and poked about while he was talking to the smith, looking for anything interesting.
Talia says she'd be more than happy to store the milk in the coolest part of her cellar. She also gently reminds you that she will have to start charging you for the rooms she rents to you. It is a business, after all.
Isadorer Malak has offered, however, to let you sleep in the empty stable they have, from time to time.
While at the Shrine of the Seven Roses, Joriannika listens to Nilos Genser, a Shelyn cleric who is genuinely Friendly, and also a little flirtatious. He demonstrates musical talent as well as those gathered sing songs while he plays a custom-made organ-type instrument.
Afterwards, while talking with Jori, the topic of Bassy the gnome comes up.
“I know everyone says Bassy’s the oldest person in town, and I’m sure it’s true, but she still looks full of youth, almost like a child. Whatever the case may be, they say her grandmother was a friend of Lady Belhaim! If that’s true, can you imagine the stories she’d have heard growing up?”
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The cleric somberly walks up the steps of the Inn towards the librarian-wizard warmly called “Bookworm’s” room. He pauses at the door for a moment and then knocks.
The rustling of scrolls and miscellaneous items being knocked over are accentuated with urgings for the cleric to come later or wait for him to come out and a fervent claim that the occupant is on the cusp of a linguistic breakthrough as always.
”I am sorry Bookworm, I can’t just go away this time and I have a duty to complete and you have said yourself how rigid my dogma can be when following the code.”
Stone says with dry humor, but also great remorse in his voice.
He licks his lips.
”Look, I uh, well . . . I just returned from the warrens and um. I am the only one to return Bookworm. The dwarf and the ifrit, they . . . They didn’t make it.”
He lets it sink in a while before continuing.
”We encountered a group of Kobolds at the entrance. We were able to subdue the majority of them after they tried to kill us. You know how she is, er, was. She wanted to bundle them up and save them all, heh render medical aid and whatnot, make sure they weren’t bound too tight and such.”
”The Inquisitor we told you about yesterday, well . . . He and I went down one tunnel while the dwarf got some of the Baronesses men to watch her captives. So the Ifrit and her came down after us, and uh . . . I’m not really sure what happened, but they missed a pit trap and it claimed them both.”
”I have her thunder stick and it’s magic dust and the lead seeds it eats. I know she wanted you to have it. I never made amends with her before she went. I hope she found her family waiting for her in the afterlife.”
”And “Smolder the Good Lookin”, well, hopefully he and the Amazon are together for the eternal now.”
”I’ll miss them both actually.”
”We could have used you down their buddy. There were strange languages and cultural and magical interests and talk of dragons. You would have been useful for sure.”
He pauses and listens ear to the door.
”I’ve found a new group since I believe you said you were going to be out of touch for a while.”
”One of them was a masked elf that had those paired Mithral daggers you were interested in. He’s already departed and took off with them though. No one knows where he was headed.”
<<<<“Sigh”>>>>
”So I am going to be looking into some local trouble it seems. Before I get back to my own mission. We are going to make entry on the Wizard Hunclay’s house. Just thought you might be interested.”
He waits again.
The cleric somberly walks up the steps of the Inn towards the librarian-wizard warmly called “Bookworm’s” room. He pauses at the door for a moment and then knocks.
The rustling of scrolls and miscellaneous items being knocked over are accentuated with urgings for the cleric to come later or wait for him to come out and a fervent claim that the occupant is on the cusp of a linguistic breakthrough as always.
”I am sorry Bookworm, I can’t just go away this time and I have a duty to complete and you have said yourself how rigid my dogma can be when following the code.”
Stone says with dry humor, but also great remorse in his voice.
He licks his lips.
”Look, I uh, well . . . I just returned from the warrens and um. I am the only one to return Bookworm. The dwarf and the ifrit, they . . . They didn’t make it.”
He lets it sink in a while before continuing.
”We encountered a group of Kobolds at the entrance. We were able to subdue the majority of them after they tried to kill us. You know how she is, er, was. She wanted to bundle them up and save them all, heh render medical aid and whatnot, make sure they weren’t bound too tight and such.”
”The Inquisitor we told you about yesterday, well . . . He and I went down one tunnel while the dwarf got some of the Baronesses men to watch her captives. So the Ifrit and her came down after us, and uh . . . I’m not really sure what happened, but they missed a pit trap and it claimed them both.”
”I have her thunder stick and it’s magic dust and the lead seeds it eats. I know she wanted you to have it. I never made amends with her before she went. I hope she found her family waiting for her in the afterlife.”
”And “Smolder the Good Lookin”, well, hopefully he and the Amazon are together for the eternal now.”
”I’ll miss them both actually.”
”We could have used you down their buddy. There were strange languages and cultural and magical interests and talk of dragons. You would have been...
Noticing the sorry state of his clothes, the inquisitor left them along with his armour at the tailor and insisted they should be taken care of until the next day. He did not bother explaining the bloodstains and cuts but left part of the payment in advance. He returned to the house of Abadar in a rented robe for the night.
Freshly clean and redressed, The Cleric steps out to attempt to meet with the resident sage woman that he and others have been referred to more than once about the local lore.
As he walks he politely greets the villagers he meets along the way looking closely at their facial features.
The party convenes mid-morning at the bottom of the hill crowned with Hunclay's manor. The charred remains of the kobold are no longer there. A few people around town informed you that Hunclay had never spoken to them, in fact, they'd scarcely ever seen him outside. Occasionally, packages would be delivered but a servant would always the door. But no one has been seen emerging from the estate since before the Witch tower fell. The house has been kept in good condition, on the outside at least. The ivy isn't too overgrown, the shrubbery hasn't gone feral, it would almost look normal, except for the giant observatory-like third-story. Yet even that almost goes unnoticed, for it is definitely part of the original design, not a later addition.
What do you do?
Thomas, who has been at this front door before, smiles and knocks. He answeres the questioning faces of his colleagues with a smile. "you gotta be polite anytime!"
He then checks, if the door is locked, which he assumes. If in fact the door is locked, he looks at Hanzo and back at the door.
Hanzo can obviously make out that Thomas is considering just breaking the door.
The door is in fact locked, and thankfully, the trap which torched the unfortunate kobold had not reset itself, so nothing happens when Thomas touches the handle.
Hanzo, seeing a task as laughable as unlocking a door, which he now knew wasn't going to char him like a blackened chicken, approached the entrance, retrieving his tools as he closed the gap. No one seems to notice the first minute pass by, but after 2, then 3, Hanzo begins to feel the eyeballs staring at the back of his head. Then you hear someone hollering from down the hill. It's Talia, from the Wise Piper. She's holding a key ring with two keys on it.
"Sir Kane left these with me before he suddenly took off. I meant to give them to you. He said they were most likely for Hunclay's home. If you're going in... well, I'm sure it'll help."
Everyone thanks her as Joriannika passes them off to Hanzo, who immediately goes to unlock the door so he can at least say he was able to unlock the door.
He picks the smaller, black iron key that seems rather run of the mill, instead of the more intricate brass key. It fits perfectly, the lock clicks. Hanzo turns to look back at the party, as if to say, Ready..?
The inquisitor looks disapprovingly at Thomas while he was attempting to pick the lock but does nothing to stop him. As soon as he sees Talia going up the hill he grabs the barbarian's attention to avoid the awkward situation of getting caught lockpicking the door.
"If there's someone in the house, now is the best time to show yourselves. No harm will come to you!" Sheaorlis yells as soon as they enter the manor ensuring their presence is known.
Hanzo nearly turned to stone right then and there. Sheaorlis must be a gorgon. Surely.
Then again, what were the chances there was anything living still in the house?
...That wasn't as comforting a thought as he had first imagined.
"Well, no need to sneak in," he sighed, peering inside. "Who wants to go first?" He eyed Sheaorlis expectantly.
"Strange that a wizard would use such a plain key," Joriannika said, puzzled. "I thought he'd be all about the showmanship."
She too looked inside for traps before venturing in.
The floor of this well-appointed entry hall is adorned with two expensive Qadiran rugs and decorated with several overstuffed leather sofas. Two dozen paintings with gilded frames hang on the walls, portraits and landscapes, all of exquisite artistry. To the north sits a large bird cage. Wooden doors open in the east and west walls, and an elaborate spiral staircase of iron both ascends and descends in the southeast corner. Nobody hears any reply to the inquisitor's pronouncement. However... a few seconds after Sheaorlis enters, there's a groaning sound, coming from the floor below his feet. He jumps to the side just in time as a sizable pit opens up in the floor. The rug is less fortunate as it is swallowed into the depths. The audible reactions from everyone startle the birds in their cage, causing them to squawk and chirp loudly and frantically.
Hanzo swallowed as he peered down into the pit. Holy... that could have been me! I did not see that one coming.
"You okay, priest?" he asked, squinting into the recesses of the house. Who builds a pit in front of their own front door?!
Joriannika gasped with the others as the floor vanished under Sheaorlis' feet. After he confirmed he was okay, she immediately knelt by the pit to survey whether there was likely to be other surprises of a similar nature deeper in the entrance, and whether it was safe to skirt around the pit.
Joriannika leaned back again and sighed, blowing a puff of air to move the hair in her eyes. "What kind of man puts a trap like this in front of his own door?" she asked, unknowingly echoing Hanzo's thoughts. "Maybe there was a way to disable it most of the time, so he didn't fall in by accident. ...In fact, that's probably what he had!" She smiled brightly. "Let's fish a plank out of the rubble of the tower and put it over the pit, so we can go in and look for it."
”That would have been a rather off way to begin undertaking this venture.”, Stone says somberly while looking down into the pit.
”I have never been found of traps, but I am finding my dislike of them growing immensely.”
While the rouge plies his craft, Stone looks around.
”Bloody shame about the loss of the rug really. I hope it wasn’t exceedingly valuable.”
"That is one way of getting rid of unwanted visitors" Sheaorlis muttered looking down the pit which almost engulfed him.
"I am still in good health everyone. Can you find anything outside to cover the hole with? I'll be taking a closer look inside in the meantime." He goes slowly along the walls abstaining from opening the door until the others were inside as well and stopping right in front of a painting.
The painting Sheaorlis stops in front of , a masterfully executed portrait of Balthus Hunclay himself, regally hangs in the center of the west wall, watching over the room. Something is slightly off about the painting, in the inquisitor's eyes. It's on hinges, he realizes, revealing a hidden switch set into the wall.
The cleric observes the inquisitor’s interest in the painting.
”I didn’t realize you had such a keen interest and appreciation for the finer details of oil painting Sheaorlis.”
”What draws you eye to that one over any of these others?”
He examines a few himself trying to take in Hunclay’s collection to see what it said about the man, his taste in art and if the subject matters of the artwork gave any insight to his motivations.
The inquisitor looks behind, noticing Stone has gone passed the hole that engulfed the rug.
Though I'm sure it's very well made, I have to admit that, this form of art has never piqued my interest. What caught my eye was this finely crafted frame. It's amusing what can be hidden in plain sight if there are enough distractions laying around.
With that said he pushes gently on the switch being careful not to stand right in front of the painting while doing so.
The switch resists momentarily, like an old man whose old lady keeps nagging him about going dancing. He remains stubborn and immovable for a time, but eventually concedes, if only to silence the woman. But instead of a dreadfully irritating boredom, he finds himself refreshed, renewed, and grateful to his beautifully grey-locked wife. This switch moved in that way, resistant, but overjoyed at being used, finding purpose.
The pit in the floor begins shrink, leaving behind the finely crafted wooden planks of the floor, exactly as it was before the pit had arrived. The rug, sadly, seems lost forever.
If anyone wasn't on edge before, they certainly are now. Stone reassures everyone that it's unlikely the pit to reemerge, given the type of trap it is. Nevertheless, even the seasoned soldier skirts the area just a bit. Everyone begins a careful search of the room, though it's hard to concentrate as the commotion from the pit encounter has startled the exotic looking birds inside the cage at the far end of the room. They squawk and dart around their cage, flapping and filling the air with more noise than seems tolerable. If Hunclay were alive, he'd know someone was in his house.
You notice something tied to one of the birds' legs. It seems to be a small silver charm of sorts.
”There is something tied to this bird’s leg. Squaking and farting around in this cage like this they make a handy alarm system.”
”Let’s see here . . . “
”Looking at this charm, I can see it functions as a key. It unlocks something, but I can’t guess what. It radiates Abjuration magic. A classification which generally covers protective spells and the suppression of others' magic. Magic of this school creates physical or magical barriers, negates magical or physical abilities, harms trespassers, or even banishes the target of the spell to another plane of existence.”
”Maybe it is containing something?”
”I will detect for other magic in this room or on portals. I don’t think we should disable or dismiss this until we are certain what it covers.”
”No one has an identify spell memorized or a scroll of identify on them do you?”
”If not, No need to worry Madam, I have Detect Magic active as we speak.”
"Don't put all your trust in spells. Wits first, spells second." the inquisitor replied to Stone's question. "Unless there is someone willing to risk their fingers being chopped by those birds I would suggest to leave them alone for now." With that said Sheaorlis moves the furniture from over the main carpet and covers the cage with it.
He also checks what is underneath the carpet.
Jori shook her head mutely, and motioned for Hanzo to follow from where he was hanging back. She took another look around the room, carefully.
Hanzo grumbled under his breath, but cautiously ventured around the room, looking for anything dangerous or curious. "C'mon, Thomas. Let's see if there's things to not smash," he joked.
Over the next hour, Jori and Hanzo search every nook and crevice, fortunately, finding zero traps. Joriannika leaves a note on the bird cage as the animals are probably something of value to be auctioned off. While they search, Sheaorlis and Thomas examine the paintings and Stone is detecting magic.