Viendar Kast's latest disguise had failed him once again. Sniffed out by a mere war-weasel, Nicola had unleashed magicks that revealed the wily actor.
Encased in a shimmering outline of purple, the jester radiated obnoxiously bright tones of in the dull grey ghetto. The fetchling's had reeled in aggression, with how infuriating the jester was.
Stumbling back, Viender Kast had fallen into a nearby hovel, landing smack in the dwelling of a large fetchling family. The continued presence of the intruder, and his ignorance had fueled the aggression of the locals.
Through with being diplomatic and "human" , Viendar was dragged further in the home where they began to claw at him. All the entertainer could do was beg and plead as pale skinned humanoids became a pack of wild animals and had at him.
"GET HIM!!!TEAR HIM TO SHREDS!!! DOWN WITH THE KARPADS!!! cried out a frustrated demi human, sparking the rebellion.
The pent up anger, racism and struggle living below human standards had erupted the fetchlings into a frenzy as Kast was helpless. His cries for help had dwindled down, as he left there - bleeding out. Crippled, in excruciating pain and lacking any friends - he was truly on a level with the marginlized fetchlings.
Segei, wanting to make an example spoke into Kast's ear before publicly humiliated the entertainer. "Fetchling....pride""
.
Nikola raised his eyebrows-- "Uh, no--" he says, and then later shouts. "Let me and the red--" he calls out, confused. "Probably hear what he--" he tries. "Can you let us--?" he pleads.
Nikola watches for a moment at what is essentially a horde of screaming people ripping apart a person instead of letting him speak to him or take charge. A horde of utterly stupid people shouting and clawing and yelling and ripping someone apart because they were angry and not like them. These people were no better than the Chelish in Karpad, just the reverse.
Nikola wondered if they'd actually killed the little girl. These people probably would.
Insane. No time to think.
-
Within an instant, an idea forms in his head. He scowls menacingly and draws a scroll from his pocket, limping to the fallen entertainer. He laughs out loud and plies the scroll like it's a weapon, muttering in Varisian. "I'm the protector of these people now, brujah. We'll make an example of you. But first? Let's see you have a taste of this."
He gestures to the others and waves his cane. "Get back, lest the fire taste your skin as well. For the people of Shadow Row! Down with the humans of Karpad," he hisses.
He incantates above the entertainer in angry tones, raising a hand and crushing the scroll before throwing his fists towards him, slamming his palms into his back and chest. He evokes "Lord of fire, ashes! Show this man the pain of death undying!"
As the healing magic takes effect, Nikola laughs loudly. "Is it not excruciating?" he says, mocking. "Do you regret your choices now, brujah? You should have never come here."
He turns to the fetchlings. "I'll remove him from the Row with Mavis. Go back to your homes. We've made an example of him."
Groy sobbed quietly, letting the anger fester within his broken self.
"SHE WAS RIGHT TH..tHERE!!! AND I DIDN'T EVEN...HAVE..THE CHANCE TO TELL HER HOW MUCH I LOVED HER"Said the distraught father as he punched with all his might into the wooden gallows, achieving physical pain to overcome the emotional. The dwarf had stared on, watching the scene develop before him.
Lucien Groy, guard captain and now forlorn father had little left.
"Be it whatever it may, Dwarf. I'm out to find my daughter's killer. If it helps ya, I'll bring you to where I last saw here...den again, I can't have you stoppin' me every way. Doesn't Torag preach about us followin' our own way?"
Pulling himself up, Groy's mass had jiggled under the stain of his girth. Re aligning his belt and studded leather armor, he proceeded down a pair of stairs to the gallow's size and stood a good deal of distance from Fearn.
****
Fearn offers the man what comfort he can without touching him. He collects his crossbow, removes the quarrrel, and uses the loading lever to ease the cable to its neutral position. Then he follows Groy down off the gallows and, taking Hayna's reins, follows the man."Torag teaches us to respect the law, and work for the good of our families and people. In my village, I am lawgiver. The other men and I stepped in to stop the hanging because we could see that you were overcome with grief and not thinking clearly. 'You must strike straight to drive the nail.'
Groy, I would help you find your daughter, and resolve any other problems you have in town. The two men who took the fetchlings strike me as well-meaning. I think they would help too.
You spoke of disease and turning people into spell components. I have a little skill with healing and the lame man had skill with magic. Tell me about these other problems and we can work together to fix them and find Oyla. "
The fetchling mob that had swarmed the entertainer backed away at the frightening words issued forth by the Varisian who possessed an otherworldly power. Though in their wake, they had backed away from a crippled and near death human - "The Entertainer".
Though, the witch's magic had served it's purpose, the entertainer was broken. Delusional in mind, and still reeling from the pain, he had merely laid there, in silent agony. Torn clothing and smeared make up had revealed a different individual all together - the true face
In that moment, something had awakened within the fetchling community - they had the power to stand up to something. Their yellowed eyes burned with passion. They had found a will to fight, and with this new ability, they had gathered in a primal cacophonous mob.
A hot headed Sergei had stepped within the mob of fetchlings that had stared on with such intensity.
"It is time for us...to rise! Take to streets my people! And fight for our right! Down...with the Chelish!!!!
Several cheers had issued from the mob, grabbing whatever object they could. It was a swarm of black and grey; individuals tainted the shadow were pushed too far. The memories of their hardship, near public hanging and recent encounter with the offensive jester had thrown them over the tipping point - and there was no going back.
Marius, who had been the most sensible of the fetchligns only nodded in understanding, and stayed with her younger sister, Delia and Elder Khor.
With Sergei in the forefront, the mob had moved forth on the main square of Karpad.
= = = =
Groy had lead the Dwarf back to his residence which lay near the south eastern side of town. Near his house were several small hovels and the Chandlery, the prime business of Karpad.
Sauntering to his home, Lucien had to hold back tears as the broken man continued.
His home was a meager building - one floor, with visible entrances to the front and side of his residence. There was a small hedge border that ran along for 20ft, marking the garden section of his property. Incense permeated the air, pressumably his wife praying to the Midnight Lord for the safe return of their daughter.
Nearing the garden, Groy had placed a firm hand on the Dwarf's armor.
"This is as far as you go. I can't let you inside. My wife, if given any shred of hope would break down. If you want to help, your god or whatever power you call upon may help you in searching for clues. Either way, I need to check on my wife." said the guard captain in a somber tone.
Ladies! Men! People! Calm yourselves! Heed me for a moment, this will solve nothing!
He had hoped his words would garner some attention so they would listen to him as he frantically looked at the fetchling's he'd saved.
“We finally got 'em! And about time too!!!” he roared out with maddening excitement as members of the audience joined him. “Fer too long have our own have been disapearrin' with no trace – yet dese damn shadow pups grow each day! Argus the cook, GONE! Erica and her baby brother Calin, GONE! And even yet, my own flesh and blood – Oyla, HAD BEEN TAKEN TOO!!”
Letting his ire excite the crowd, he had stood silent for a moment letting his words fuel the growing hate.
“But today ladies and gentles, we're gonna make an example of dese curs from the Shadow Row! Karpad ain't gonna stand silent! Sources tell me that these mangy beasts are responsible for not only my own daughter's death several of the town, but also this horrific plague - turning our own into spell components for their shameful witchcraft!"
**** Taking leave of Groy*****
"I understand, Captain," Fearn replied although he wondered if refusal to hope was the reason the captain was so desperately angry. Five days. This is a cold trail. I have little hope myself.
He scanned the yard looking for anything amiss.
Perception
**** After looking in the yard
Fearn approaches the nearest neighbor's house and knocks on the door.
Diplomacy
Diplomacy
Diplomacy
Diplomacy
Diplomacy
Through the amassing tangle of grey and black humanoids, Shadrick a beacon of radiating male prowess and charisma tried to shed light onto the situation. But, the fetchlings pushed forward with pent up aggression - leaving Mavis' words to fall on deaf ears. Almost all the crazed demi humans had left Shade Row, bounding the serpentine path leading to Karpad's main square. Women, children and even older looking fetchlings grabbed whatever weapons they could - broken broom handles, glass fashioned shivs, planks and even stones - to fight the oppression.
Emerging from one of the households was a particular interesting looking fetchling. She wore a suit of impeccable armor, hooked and barbed - sinister and deadly. Upon her face was a neutral look, as it she was a figment of beauty protected and honored as a war maiden.
= = = = =
***Back to Fearn.
On his first try, he had met an older man - someone in their 60's with a nearly bald head and liver spots. The valley of shadow was not kind to him. He was taken aback, having not expected a dwarf knocking on his door. Confused and rather bewildered, he entertained the foreigner.
"Huh...? said the crotchey old man. He dug away at his hairy ear before continuing. "Oh, you mean those shadowfolk? Well...lets see...*scratching at his chin*, them shadowlings came from manor ages ago. There was some incident involving one of the baron's acenstor's, and... he said with a yawn and half forgetting what had transpired.
Staring blankly at Kearn Feniv, the old man hobbled back into his home unsure why a dwarf had been talking to him.
Dissatisfied with his encounter with the elderly, Fearn had pressed on, determined to find the validation of Lucien Groy's madness. Skipping at random which residence to inquire, he walked towards where his intuition pointed - a rather dull looking house with an engraving of the Midnight Lord upon its mantle. A person with religious devotion should have some amount of faith - and sense, thought Fearn.
Still determined, Fearn shuffled to the adjacent house, hoping that he'd get better results. As he was about knock on a heavy wooden door, it had swung open and a pale skinned woman stepped back in surprise. Her hair was honeyed and bound in a small bun that rested atop her hair. Unaccustomed to seeing a dwarf, let alone one with shiny metal armor, she curtseyed slightly, and took interest with in the man.
She took a sip and cleared her mind before answering.
"Ah, well, I'm sure this will upset you - but Lucien is the guard captain of the Town's Watch. Any reasoning he finds is evidence enough, whether the Baron deems it so. In fact, the folks who were around the day that the fetchlings were fired from the Baron's employment had contracted the virulent disease. I would know, I was one of them..."
Mara said while brandishing a missing ring finger."We've a capable Kuthite Priest who handles the healing around here, yet the Midnight Lord has no interest in ridding the town of this...malady.
She flashed a surprised look, and had to remind herself that Fearn was a foreigner. "For all I know, the Baron hasn't stepped outside the confines of his Estate - that large building to the east. Either consumed by guilt, paranoia or delusional, Lucien's been the only authority in these parts...well save for you, Dwarf."
Though Mara was a good hostess, she grew tired of the Paladin's sudden interest with town and its current state of affairs, that he had time for one remaining question.
Mara had given a quick snort and chuckle at Kearn's ridiculous question. I'm certain of a witch that has taken residency in the parts...but as far as fetchlings taking the town's folk for spell components - thats hog wash. They're too scared to do anything about...well anything. The most they'll do is curse under their breath.
Though much of his questions remained, he needed to find out who, and why are people dissapearing if the fetchlings weren't responsible.
[spoiler= Our gracious DM] A couple points Fearn would want to follow up on with Mara:
What method does the ZK priest use to heal the disease? Was her finger the price of healing?
Did the disease start when the baron fired the fetchlings?
When did the disappearances start? Before, concurrent with, or after the firing?
Does she have any more information about this witch, has the witch been seen locally for the last few weeks? (He wants to know if it might be his witch. So if the witch has been seen locally over the last few weeks, it can't be his. On the other hand if the witch has arrived in the last few days or hasn't been seen locally for a week or two -- then it could be his witch.)
*****
Fearn stood outside Mara's house. Three interviews and more questions than answers. The fetchlings have an old connection with the baron's family and apparently came from the manor. This sickness may have started when the baron fired them. The fetchlings are in a miserable powerless position, but the town folk still fear them.
He considers Mara's finger and the Kuthite priest and shakes his head with a vague horror and suppressed outrage. He says quietly to himself, "Praise Torag that his hands are open. How could you build a house if you have to tear part of it down at the same time? It would tear a man in two." The image of the blood-laced woman seeps involuntarily into his mind. Somehow the lord of chains inspires devotion, but it makes my stomach turn.
He starts to lead Hayna back to the inn and continues thinking.
The baron has made a hermit of himself and withdrawn from the town, leaving Groy to run things as he sees fit. If Groy and that priest are the duly constituted authority here, it will make things difficult. I had thought Groy was overstepping himself, but perhaps not. If he raises the watch and comes for me, what will I do? He's not in his right mind, he's more like a snared badger striking at everything that comes within reach. Torag spare me that battle.
The inn comes into view and the dwarf's mood lightens. At least there will be food and maybe mead. And tales swirl in a taproom. perhaps I can find out more.
With a firmer step he strides toward the inn, hoping for a well-cooked meal and a night in a real bed. He's also looking forward to finding out how Nicola and Mavis made out with the fetchlings.
Ignoring the impending riot, the approaching woman glared at the armor-clad warrior. A scowl crossed her face as she realized what he was. The chains wound about her legs clanked against the blackened metal of her armor, the larger chain about her waist dangling free as she stopped a dozen feet from the man. Scars crossed her exposed forearms, a pattern scrawling up her arm before disappearing beneath more armor.
"Come to throw more stones at us? The Midnight Lord will not be pleased. Piety is in well spilt blood, not senseless bloodshed."
She waved a gauntleted hand, indicating the torch-wielding mad mob that now marched on Karpad.
"I trust you have a very good reason for leading the shadow-blessed toward this heresy?"
She lifted an eyebrow, calling attention to the jagged metal fishhook stuck through its center.
"It wasn't us," Nikola responds dryly from behind Mavis. "No one listens to a well-thought plan or reason. Everyone hates clowns."
He pauses a moment before continuing. "Besides warning the people of Karpad, I have nothing I can do to stop these people. Words won't work. I can't outrun the mob," he says, tapping his foot with his cane, "so I can do little but watch. What do you think, Mavis?"
Mavis looks at the woman for a few moments, wondering what the scars are for.
I do not, but I do know that we left the dwarf in care of Lucien, whom, if I had to guess, that mob would love to see hang... I think this isn't the time for pleasantries, even though we have such a lady here.
He pinched the fat between his nose and forehead, irritated at the turn of events. Things had been going so well after the first riot, and then the same man shows up to ruin all of their progress.
My lady, as much as I would enjoy learning about you, I do believe we have an acquaintance to save in town. We'd best hurry.
Shadrick didn't care about Lucien, or the dwarf, in particular. He did, however, dislike the idea of the fetchlings losing any female members, or killing any women. From his perspective, it's best to calm them at the first opportunity.
If I word myself properly, I may be able to calm them down. With the situation like this, we'll never be able to meet the baron. I wouldn't be surprised if we died trying to calm them.
= = = = = =
The hanging had been at a rather gloomy and somber noon, several hours have passed, bringing more darkness to Karpad. There stood about a little less than a 30 shadow-blessed folks - a ferocious mob of black and stark white.
They bore all manner of common tool - a symbol of their generations of forceful slaver turned hard labor.
Sergei, who stood at the vanguard - nearly carried as his people's own weapon came upon a member of the town guard. Orvil Lahasa - the very same portly fellow responsible for beating both him and Delia, the younger fetchling earlier in the day.
It had been a chilly day to harvest winterberries for their master, and without any warning, Lucien Groy and his lackey's descended upon the innocent Sergei, Marius and Delia like foxhounds. Sergei, recalled this painful memory. Tearing, and feeling a rush of anxiety issued forth the words that doomed Orvil's life.
"Ick..-NoTAKK!!!
His people had surrounded the man, and in the most horrifying fashion had stripped Orvil of armor and weapon - exposing a cowardly power abuser. Lacking any means to defend himself, Orvil had been reduced to crying. Several chelaxians stared in disbelief at what had just happened. Women clutched their children and looked upon with harder. Men didn't have time to scramble for weapons. In shock and disbelief at the pro-action attitude of the fetchlings.
"I'M SO SORRY!!!!!!P-P-P-PLEASE!!! I YIELD!!! blubbered Orvil as he placed fattened hands over his exposed bits. Devoid of his protection - he appeared as an ivory blob in a sea of black - a shadowy omelette ([ooc]is that even possible?)
Atop his mount, Hayna, Fearn had emerged from one of the side streets and was face to face with the conflict that had arisen within the Main Square. A mob of fetchlings stood in his path towards's the Inn.
.
"True enough. I'm fairly certain no one has been fool enough to play jester under the shadows of Nidal for centuries."
She hadn't even noticed the smaller man - the runt of a human had been hiding behind the armored one. Eying the man's bum leg for a moment, Sanira shakes her head disapprovingly.
No real scarring. A pity.
"As much as I hate to agree with humans, the big one is correct. The Umbral Court has left Baron Baroi's family in control of Karpad for generations. I am not one to question their, nor my Lord's, will. We must stop the shadow-blessed."
Slowly approaching the two humans that had so further darkened the day on Shade Row, Sanira drew a curved blade from the spiny belt around her waist. She drew the blade across her lips, drawing two beads of blood where the flesh met steel.
"And besides, if Baroi is to die, I'd like to be there to give him the deliciously painful death Zon-Kuthon would wish."
She could already imagine slowly flaying the flesh from the man's body. He'd never been truly devout - but that would change. He would atone for damning Zon-Kuthon's children to a rat-infested ghetto.
Shadrick admired the willingness to draw blood. Plenty of Zon Kuthites enjoyed torturing each other. Hell, it was half the reason he came to Nidale. He shot the woman a grin of satisfaction.
Then let's not dally, shall we?
He nudged vlasko on the shoulder, and beckoned the woman to follow him as he started to walk towards the center of the city.
I hope the warden hasn't already been torn asunder... I'm mostly curious about the dwarf, though.
Atop his mount, Hayna, Fearn had emerged from one of the side streets and was face to face with the conflict that had arisen within the Main Square. A mob of fetchlings stood in his path towards's the Inn.
Did the Pharasmin finally stir up a riotous mob? Fearn stopped to appraise the situation; he noted to complexions of the rioters. Maybe he did at that. Or maybe these people have just been pushed too far. But this can not stand anymore than Groy's hanging. What is it with the people here? I thought Zon Kuthon demanded discipline?
That looks like Sergei in the thick of it. And could that be Mavis and Nicola in the back?
Knowing that stopping a riot in progress would be much more difficult and dangerous than the nascent hanging, Fearn pinned his hopes on Torag and his friends and rode forward into the square directly toward Sergei with his weapons and shield stowed away, shouting.
Diplomacy (+2 more if they are hostile or unfriendly)
Retry if that one fails
Sergei, who stood on the shoulders of his people with a razor drawn looked upon Orvil with ill-intent. He could feel the excitement and anger rushing into his blood - a swarm of pent up emotions and anguish culminated into a loud roar as he meant to take a swing. And in that moment, something broke his focus - as well as the crowd's.
Emerging in their midst was the very same Paladin who had advocated the fetchling's freedom and sensibility from the Guard Captain, Lucien Groy.
Fearn stared upon the youth and the riotious shadowfolk with righteous fury.
"People! Good people! Stop this! Not an hour ago three of your number were saved from a similar fate. In the name of mercy, the name of justice, and the name of law, STOP THIS NOW!"
In that moment, everything seemed to stand still.
The fetchling mob had become motionless like fallen leaves on an autumn day. Even the chelixians, who watched with horror took upon statuesque manners.
This day would go down in Karpad history, how an outsider fought the racial tensions between man and his lesser cousin.
Murmurs fell upon both factions. The fetchlings, using their ethnic language talked amongst themselves. Eyes fell upon Sergei, as the festering mob had looked for guidance and direction. However, Sergei taken aback from what just happened, bellowed out in frustration. Emotions flowed into the youth as he kicked the dirt and cursed in the air towards Orvil, who had no clue if he was alive or not.
"I....HATE....RRRGGGHHHHHHHHHH" Sweat dripping from the teen's mohawk, Serei looked like a defeated animal.
Orvil had stared blankly as the mass of shadowlings who had dropped his gear and slowly backed away. Lacking any sort of faith, he pinched and poked at various parts of body to make sure this wasn't some sort of dream - but to his surprise, it was real. Left with little reason, he had bolted straight for his home to assess what had befallen him.
Meanwhile, the fetchligns looked about nervously. The dwarf had been right...on more than one occasion.
"Was...we do?" murmured one bald fetchling bearing a lead pipe. "We's takes it to da..big 'un, Att Toteka.." jeered another.
There was this cacophonous hum, which sounded like a prayer or war cry. As if like a machination from the plane of law, Axis, the fetchlings reorganized and marched upon the Baron's Manor to seek retribution and answers.
Leaving behind Sergei, the youth wallowed in self pity not far from where he was nearly hung earlier in the day.
Fearn watches the crowd turn and start toward the baron's manor and exhales deeply. So lucky. Seeing his partners in heading-off-the-hanging, he turns his pony toward them.
"Mavis, Nicola, let us follow the corwd. I would see how the baron answers these people."
Nikola raises his eyebrows appreciatively to the dwarf-- he'd done something that Nikola thought impossible.
"Desna smiles on you," he says to Fearn, cryptically, a smile creeping onto his weathered face.
They trade information handily, including a faux-introduction of their newest acquaintance. "This young miss is fairly interested in the outcome of what's about to pass," he says, using as much euphemism as he could muster.
Sanira steps forward at mention of her, sizing up the small man riding the equally small horse.
A dwarf. Interesting company these humans keep.
Glaring back at the frail looking man, she scowled. The mention of the Dreamtender did not sit well with her. But neither did humans in general. She ignored the man's impudence towards her master as she spoke.
"The cripple speaks true. The matters of the shadow-blessed are of great concern to both myself and my master."
She shifted her weight, the heavy chains around her legs scraping against both flesh and steel as she moved. She clenched a fist as she examined the short one's armor. She was fairly certain she'd seen that iconography somewhere before - but it was far from common in Nidal. The other fellow made her uneasy as well. It was clear these outsiders did not understand the Midnight Lord's blessing.
...Yet neither have they attacked the shadow-blessed, as Baron's foolish flock does.
"Though I must ask what brings you to Karpad. It is not often we have outsiders pass through; far less often that they are concerned in our foolish Baron's business."
As Mavis approaches, he can't help but be tired of all this. He removes his whip as he watches the Fetchlings make for the baron's manor. He thinks back to his "favor" and a myriad of other things. No one's going to think he had any part in it, and ultimately, he can just blame a Pharasmin priest for everything... that's assuming the Fetchlings don't raise the whole structure.
Exhausted with the whole situation, Shadrick simply walks toward the gallows and sits on the old, dry-rotting makeshift bench. He sighs.
I was here to investigate the well-being of the Baron's significant other, but, as ridiculous as these events have been, I don't believe I'll be able to collect my favor.
He cracked his whip on the gallows in frustration.
Not once, but twice, have I witnessed, and took part in, the soothing of a riot. The first time to calm that foolish Lucien, and again, to calm the very people I saved.
He looked over at the gallows, rather infuriated as he kept whipping the post and rope.
At the very least! Crack! I want to see those 3 we saved not involved. The one has already retreated, but it is the women I am most worried about. That little one... was she with the rioters bearing fangs as well?
He shoots his new ally a look of frustration, as well as undressing eyes.
...
She shifted her weight, the heavy chains around her legs scraping against both flesh and steel as she moved. She clenched a fist as she examined the short one's armor. She was fairly certain she'd seen that iconography somewhere before - but it was far from common in Nidal. The other fellow made her uneasy as well. It was clear these outsiders did not understand the Midnight Lord's blessing....
"Though I must ask what brings you to Karpad. It is not often we have outsiders pass through; far less often that they are concerned in our foolish Baron's business."
Fearn gauged this new fetchling. She was something quite different from the departing mob. He shivered as he realized, This one is a true believer. Could she be the Kuthite priest?
He couldn't help evaluating his chances in combat against her and didn't like them. He instantly recognized she'd have advantages in mobility and reach, and she would be defending her habifft, her home ground. Here he was an invader and that would lessen the strength of his cause no matter how just. I must be polite. No sense giving anyone here offense.
"I followed a witch down out of the mountains. He poisoned the well of my town and I hunt him to bring him back to face justice. I have no particular concern for your baron, but all people should abhor murder. Lucien Groy would have killed three of your folk out of blind rage, and what your people were doing there was no better. And risky for them -- unless this part of Nidal has lost all discipline."
He managed an awkward bow from his saddle. " I am Fearn Keniv, the beadle of Tunbore."
"I'm certain I saw them staying behind," Nikola says, leaning on his cane. "There's no reason to worry, and certainly no reason to whip a poor defenseless hanging tree."
After Fearn speaks, Nikola interjects into the conversation: "Nikola Grey, cripple for hire," he says with dry wit and a tip of his hat.
As Mavis approaches, he can't help but be tired of all this. He removes his whip as he watches the Fetchlings make for the baron's manor. He thinks back to his "favor" and a myriad of other things. No one's going to think he had any part in it, and ultimately, he can just blame a Pharasmin priest for everything... that's assuming the Fetchlings don't raise the whole structure.
Exhausted with the whole situation, Shadrick simply walks toward the gallows and sits on the old, dry-rotting makeshift bench. He sighs.
I was here to investigate the well-being of the Baron's significant other, but, as ridiculous as these events have been, I don't believe I'll be able to collect my favor.
He cracked his whip on the gallows in frustration.
Not once, but twice, have I witnessed, and took part in, the soothing of a riot. The first time to calm that foolish Lucien, and again, to calm the very people I saved.
He looked over at the gallows, rather infuriated as he kept whipping the post and rope.
At the very least! Crack! I want to see those 3 we saved not involved. The one has already retreated, but it is the women I am most worried about. That little one... was she with the rioters bearing fangs as well?
He shoots his new ally a look of frustration, as well as undressing eyes.
Fearn looks at the pessimistically pensive fighter. "I did not see the women, but they could have been easily lost in the crowd. Come. We will follow them and look for her and you can measure the baron by the answer he gives these folk's grievance."
Shadrick stops whipping the hanging tree, coiling his whip rather quickly as it recoils back to him.
He turns to Fearn, and nods.
What of the devout? He said, honey practically rolling off his tongue as he eyed her. What of her? She seems like she would... enjoy this.
Outsiders interfering in Nidalese affairs. Typical humans. Incapable of dealing with their own problems.
Sanira didn't like the eyes of the larger human. There was something glaring out from behind them, something that she'd prefer to leave buried. She ignored him and focused on the dwarf, who seemed to be in charge of the outsiders.
"I cannot condone the actions of the shadow-blessed. Yet it is our good Baron that has driven them to this madness. Their desire to spill blood would be admirable, if not so poorly directed."
With a shrug, she continued.
"I will, of course, assist in stopping the heresy of my brethren. I am Sanira, Seer of Darkness among the shadow-blessed."
After Fearn speaks, Nikola interjects into the conversation: "Nikola Grey, cripple for hire," he says with dry wit and a tip of his hat.
Fearn chuckles at the self-deprecation, then replies, "You're a brave man. You'll be welcome in Tunbore any time."
..."I cannot condone the actions of the shadow-blessed. Yet it is our good Baron that has driven them to this madness. Their desire to spill blood would be admirable, if not so poorly directed."
With a shrug, she continued.
"I will, of course, assist in stopping the heresy of my brethren. I am Sanira, Seer of Darkness among the shadow-blessed."
Fearn nods. "Are you then the Kuthite healer I have heard about?"
"Healer? No."
Sanira hung her head, obscuring her rage from the outsiders' view. The Midnight Lord's people were none of their concern. Even despite her own desires to see Baron Baroi's eyes plucked from his head and served to crows on a platter, Zon-Kuthon's might could not be questioned by the outsiders.
"The humans of Karpad have little to do with the shadow-blessed. They fear us. Envy us. None have ever come to me seeking healing. And such is well enough, for healing circumvents the one of the blessings of injury - the agony of recovery."
Why are Zon-Kuthon's chosen treated like animals? Feared?
"The healer you speak of is Miklos. The human's priest."
Fearn nods, "I see. The human folk I spoke to had sought healing from the sickness not injury. Have your folk been visited by it?"
Sanira shook her head, jagged edges of her armor bobbing about as she moved, "No. The shadow-blessed do not suffer from this ailment. The Midnight Lord's favor protects us from such trifles."
Fearn cocks his head at the fetchling. "Hmm. That would partly explain Groy's anger. He's jealous of your fortunate health. What about the disappearances? Have any of your folk gone missing?"
The chains continued to rattle as Sanira's gestures got more pronounced.
"The shadow-blessed keep to themselves. Only a few of us venture into the human's territory. I am not among them."
Fearn frowns and tries again, "They tell me at least three humans have disappeared, including Groy's daughter. That's why he's half crazed right now. It was about five days ago. About the time the baron expelled your folk from the manor and the sickness started. So all your people are safe?"
Making it a point to walk in the back of the group beside Vlasko merely out of habit of being with him more than anything, Mavis considers the possible events that could occur in his very near future.
"So, this baron. No one's particularly said anything about him to... explain a certain thing. I'm not sure if he's a nice person with bad luck, or a bad person with bad luck. Don't get me wrong. Either way, the man has an angry shadow-blessed mob in his back door.
He makes sure to have his scythe in his right hand for potential issues.
Regardless, should harm come to those people I saved, today will most likely be one of his final days.
The mob of fetchlings and "heroes" had come upon the Baron's manor. Whether it was a small town, or the architects were mad men, but the Baroi Estate was a grim and older than any building within Karpad. The manor was designed as an octogon, where extentions to side rooms were added to the South and West sections of the estate. Shrubs consisting of black berries and cherries were arranged in a circular manner, including several fire sconces that had more of a ceremonial function than practical. Though, peeling paint and cracked marble suggests that the once palatial residence had fallen into decline.
Situated upon a hill, the residency of Stephan Boroi and his clan seemed to be designed around the "watcher in the shadows" motif.
The fetchling who bound with eagerness had cleared the distance and formed into a swarm of black at the estate's entrance. Banging and making all manner of cacophonous sound, a stern man with a graying beard had emerged from the threshold.
Dark circles sat under his eyes, and the wrinkles of his face suggested a care worn history with the Borois. Even though he stood defenseless against the mob, he made his stand.
"Ah, returned you have O' shadow tainted. Come have we with anger and ill trodden thoughts? Have we sunk into destructive stereotypes?"
His heavy brow furrowed, letting his words sink into the crowd. Unlike the previous Nidalese that the fetchlings had come upon, Laurentiu, retainer and majordomo of the Boroi Estate had garnered some sensibility. He stood defiant, and unafraid of what the fetchlings were possible of.
"BARON...SPEAK...NOW" chanted the crowd like a mass of angry children. Though, in some manner of speaking, a good deal of the fetchlings were dimunitive.
Laurentiu puffed, and shook his arms outward.
"NOT WITH MANNERS AND THAT ATTITUDE YOU WILL!!!" bellowed the retainer as he returned the same aggression back to the mob. Coming into a calm voice, Laurentiu had took on a fatherly persona."Only official business with the Baron is welcome. Angry mob, is not. Come back when you're level headed.." he said while gracefully sliding back into the Manor.
Though in the employment of the Baron and in lieu of what has transpired, Laurentiu was one of the few citizens who hadn't let emotions impact his thinking. With the Baron's well being a top priority, the retainer had reduced the potential violence into a sweltering deadlock.
Even with the mob of fetchlings who had blocked the main entrance to the estate, there was little direction either group could do.
Nikola looks mildly surprised. "That was quite a bit more bloodless than I expected," he says, and continues on walking with the group. "I assume we," he says, and gives Mavis a glance, "are speaking to the Baron... unless you'd prefer to take care of your business alone. You thanklessly engaged yourself in my affairs, so I thought to return the favor. Are we in accordance?" he asks the tall scythe-wielding warrior. Nikola favored Mavis despite his odd outbursts and mannerisms. It would be an irritation to have to work on opposite ends, especially starting now, when everything had-- hopefully-- finally calmed down.
On that note, Nikola scanned the crowd for clowns, Pharasmin priests or Pathfinders. None. Good.
Turning to the others, Nikola continues: "I hope that our business might extend past a mutual interest in the outcome of the mob uprising. Perhaps we can get to the bottom of what's going on here by interacting with the Baron? I know you," he indicates Fearn, "have interest in discovering the truth of the unpleasantness in the town, and you," he indicates Sanira, "are invested in the well-being of the fetchlings here. Perhaps we can all get what we want by banding together for a time? Call it an alliance, or call it simply opportunity. Either way, we all win."
Nikola leans on his cane for a moment, regarding the crowd. They might have to wait until they dispersed or the man with the commanding voice's unique effect on them might be unspun.
Shadrick crosses his arms, taking in the surprising diplomacy that the man had with the group of Fetchlings. If anything, it was interesting. He didn't know whether to be disappointed or happy with the lack of blood-shed, but Sanira was probably a bit defeated by the sudden lack of carnage.
"Vlasko, while I want all of us to be acquainted, my personal business with the man takes precedence. I'm sure everyone will be able to after I'm done, but I'd much prefer to speak to the old fool alone. I am here on business, after all."
He sheathes his scythe as he walks toward the manor.
Sanira stood to the side, scarred arms crossed, as she watched the armored human head for the manor's doors. She spoke to no one in particular as she turned towards the fetchlings, who were now standing about the manor, easily defeated by the majordomo's words.
Typical. Baroi couldn't even calm a whining child.
"Fair enough. The good Baron wouldn't even let me in the door. Though I must wonder how much the man is paying for someone to clean up his mess. Perhaps if he hadn't condemned the shadow-blessed to their ghetto, his people would not have needed to endure this ailment. It is a blessing from our Midnight Lord, exacting the sacrifice that Baroi fails to provide."
She sighed and shook her head slowly. Her people were a disgrace to Zon-Kuthon, despite being blessed with his dark touch.
Now they loiter about, lost. Perhaps if the shadow-blessed did not act like children themselves, we would earn the favor we deserve.
...
Turning to the others, Nikola continues: "I hope that our business might extend past a mutual interest in the outcome of the mob uprising. Perhaps we can get to the bottom of what's going on here by interacting with the Baron? I know you," he indicates Fearn, "have interest in discovering the truth of the unpleasantness in the town, and you," he indicates Sanira, "are invested in the well-being of the fetchlings here. Perhaps we can all get what we want by banding together for a time? Call it an alliance, or call it simply opportunity. Either way, we all win."
...
Fearn nods his agreement. 'twould be glad of allies in this land, and these two men have proven their worth.
...
"Vlasko, while I want all of us to be acquainted, my personal business with the man takes precedence. I'm sure everyone will be able to after I'm done, but I'd much prefer to speak to the old fool alone. I am here on business, after all."
He sheathes his scythe as he walks toward the manor.
"Mavis, wait. You do understand that Nicola is proposing to lend his aid to your cause too? A group of three - or four- may appear more impressive than a single man. I see no reason why your business couldn't be discussed first, and then we can talk to the baron about the troubles here in town."
...
"Fair enough. The good Baron wouldn't even let me in the door. Though I must wonder how much the man is paying for someone to clean up his mess. Perhaps if he hadn't condemned the shadow-blessed to their ghetto, his people would not have needed to endure this ailment. It is a blessing from our Midnight Lord, exacting the sacrifice that Baroi fails to provide."
...
This comment stops Fearn dead and he looks at Sanira. "That's just what some of the humans think. That the sickness is connected to the baron exiling your folk. But they don't think it's Zon Kuthon's doing. They think the fetchlings themselves are responsible somehow. That's partly why Groy could turn the crowd against Sergei and the girls so readily.
Besides, would sickness be your god's way. Disease was ever the weapon of the Pallid Princess. It hardly seems fiting for the Prince of Pain."
Sanira turned to the short one. He had a point.
"Perhaps. Agony comes in many forms, but disease is often less... visceral than my Lord prefers."
With a shrug, she reached into a pouch on her spined belt and pulled out a single caltrop. Grasping it in her palm, she squeezed down on the tiny metal object with all her might. Even with the gauntlet on, the four needles dug into her hand as the small metallic object was bent beyond use. It served the dual purpose of culling her growing rage and calming her nerves. The outsiders were making her uneasy.
"But that does not change the humans' treatment of the shadow-blessed. Baroi despises us for the gift of shadow. Despite our kinship with the Midnight Lord, Baroi wishes us nothing but death."
She sighed.
"And not even the painful kind."
Dmitri laughed at Sanira's morbidity.
If I'd known that Kuthonite women carried themselves with a mixture of allure and masochism, I would have came to Nidale quite some time ago...
He stifled his laughter, looking at the dwarf with a stern look.
Friend, you have assisted me on this day more than I care to mention, and I agree with your points, but, my business with the baron is private. Fear not, however, as I am only to check upon the health of the good baron's wife. It shall not take long, and, provided I need assistance, I shall call on your aid. But not before.
He thought for a moment about the Fetchlings, and their predicament.
Though I find it... dangerous, I believe I have a means. The crisis has been averted, so we can calm down for now about everything.
He looked to Vlasko and Fearn, plotting something.
As my business is private, I'm in no immediate danger, nor is anyone, despite the fact we're in Nidale. I have a way with words, as do you, dwarf, if only because of the powers that be. I can learn much about the baron through conversation.
What of the rest of you, though? Why not look into his manor, and see if you can't find anything... out of the ordinary?
"Despite being in Nidal..." What gall!
Sanira glared at the man, although certain he was too thick to understand her ire.
"I'm not sure I should take your words as the compliment they seem to be..."
She paused, letting her dry humor sink in before resuming her speech with the matter at hand.
"Your business in Nidal is yours, indeed. The Baron's perdicament is his own doing, and what happens is my Master's will. His lack of foresight is truly a pity, but expected. Yet..."
She paused again, looking to the disparaged fetchling mob. They continued to mill about, unsure if they should return to thier homes or not.
"I have personal reasons to see this through to the end. The shadow-blessed have suffered enough beneath the Baron's mockery of a rule. Kuthite law demands he stand as a capable leader, not a coward. Perhaps this disease is a punishment from the Midnight Lord for my own inablity to see his will. An unfitting death."
...
Friend, you have assisted me on this day more than I care to mention, and I agree with your points, but, my business with the baron is private. Fear not, however, as I am only to check upon the health of the good baron's wife. It shall not take long, and, provided I need assistance, I shall call on your aid. But not before. ...
...
As my business is private, I'm in no immediate danger, nor is anyone, despite the fact we're in Nidale. I have a way with words, as do you, dwarf, if only because of the powers that be. I can learn much about the baron through conversation.
What of the rest of you, though? Why not look into his manor, and see if you can't find anything... out of the ordinary?
Fearn shrugs and nods assent. Meanwhile he thinks, There is something very odd about this man. His choice of words and what he focuses on are -- unsettling. I don't think I have ever met anyone quite like him. Somehow I think close examination will not lead to progress.
...
Sanira glared at the man, ...
She paused, ....
"Your business in Nidal is yours, indeed. The Baron's perdicament is his own doing, and what happens is my Master's will. His lack of foresight is truly a pity, but expected. Yet..."She paused again, looking to the disparaged fetchling mob. They continued to mill about, unsure if they should return to thier homes or not.
"I have personal reasons to see this through to the end. The shadow-blessed have suffered enough beneath the Baron's mockery of a rule. Kuthite law demands he stand as a capable leader, not a coward. Perhaps this disease is a punishment from the Midnight Lord for my own inablity to see his will. An unfitting death."
How odd she should consider the sickness of others a punishment for her shortcomings, but she sees to the heart of the matter otherwise. The baron is almost certainly- The choice of word here was difficult. Fearn naturally respected lawful rulers, but then most of the ones he had known reciprocated the privilege of leadership with proper care for those they led. -- delinquent.
"I will not rush to judgement, but it does seem the Baron has abdicated his responsibility to his vassals. If he can not be brought back to his duty, someone must step in to fill his office."
Groy is not the man, but that steward, or whatever he is, seemed capable.
"Well, then. Mavis' plan seems sound. While he has his audience with the baron, perhaps we can talk to the steward and look around the keep. "
He looks at Sanira. "You seem to know more about this place than any of us. Is Karpad home?"
"It is the only home I know. Although being trapped on Shade Row is not much of a home... even among the shadow-blessed, I keep to myself."
She glared at the crowd - her flock. She counted few of them among her friends, and even fewer among the truly faithful.
"But I am not one to question the Midnight Lord's will. He has sent me to be his voice among Karpad, and I will obey."
The heroes, deciding about their recourse had braved the swarm of fetchlings that stood before them. Some had backed away in near awe as Shadrick had neared; some had teary eyes, and there was this sense of importance. Fearn Keniv trotted along, joined now by a newcomer, a representative of the local faith and marginilized community, Sanira; and in the rear was Nicola, who's animal companion bounced around his shoulders.
The slow awe inspired fetchlings began to hum; a song preaching the heart-felt sorrow of the shadow-tainted. Rain began to fall, whether it was a response to the situation.
Laurenteiu emerged once more, with a sudden surprise in his face. Understanding that he was dealing with real guests, he quickly escorted them inside.
The Baroi Mansion was infact every bit imaginable.
This large antechamber is draped in the baron’s heraldry—a red bear couchant against a black sky with stars. Portraits of dour-looking nobles line the walls. Two towering statues flank the entrance, of stern men with long straight hair. One carries a sword and is missing his nose; the other carries a whip and is missing both ears. Despite the damaged statues, the antechamber is better maintained than most of the manor. The two statues are of Geron and Dimar, legendary ancestors of the Boroi family from centuries past. A stairwell, hidden from view by a low wall upon which sit a number of ornate decorations, leads down to the manor’s basement. Pastel like lavender coated the walls where portraits of Nidalese culture were organized neatly and there standing in your midst, was your first challenge, the retainer.
He looked upon you with scrutiny, and yet admiration at how well diverse the members visiting his master's estate were.
”Now, now, you are indeed all very...different than that those outside my master's walls. A Varisian, the sort my old love was – such fond memories. He had looked away wistfully and shed a tear,.coming back to his senses he continued. “And a nod and salute to the mighty sky kingdom, Janderhoff -- though your mount must stay outside, fabled dwarf.
His old eyes scanned the red haired man who stood before him. You there boy, remind me of my youth – how such virility fades even in my days. And by the gods! he said with excitement giving an astonished look at the sight of the fetchling. ”My! A shadow-tainted like no other; A union you truly are.
Cocking his head slightly, he pressed a hard look at the companions. ”What interest do you have with the Baron and his Estate?”
Shadrick scuffed some of the water off of his breastplate, losing interest in the man's words at "Virility." He looked at him, particularly curious. He pulled out a letter, sealed, of course, and handed it to him.
"This was the letter your baron sent me, particularly about business."
"I trust you know the business I speak of? Surely it's not as bad as I believed it to be."