Vashta taps her foot, impatiently, waiting for the man to tell him what they want to know.
Last thing he needs is someone else badgering him, but I wish I knew a spell that could help out in this situation...
It is quickly apparent that while Frum is happy enough to extol Rodrik's virtues and rant about his mistrust of half-orcs, you aren't likely to get anything of any coherency out of him until he sobers up. Yelena, not one to stand on ceremony, grabbed Frum and hauled him to the nearest fire barrel. The barrel, like many scattered throughout the town, lay underneath a downspout, and collected rainwater to be used in case of fire, whether accidental or set by orcs during a siege. Taking a firm grip on his hair, Yelena dunked Omast under the stagnant water a few times, waiting for the spluttering to stop before submerging his head again.
After the fourth such dunking, Omast Frum coughed and spluttered and shouted "Enough! Dammit dwarf, you're going to drown me if this keeps up." Apparently washing his head had cleared Frum's head up some, for his speech was much less slurred than before.
"What're you wanting to talk about? Roddy's death? Don't know anything about it. Wasn't there, though I saw them carry his body in. Wasn't no accident and no suicide, either. Course I guess you know that or you wouldn't be looking into it. So what else do you think a recovering drunk...well, more drunk than recovering at his point...can tell you?"
"We heard the two of you were investigating those swords," Vashta says. "Can you tell us what you found? We think they may be related."
Omast looked confused for a moment. "The two of us? Roddy hasn't spoken five words to me in 3 years. He's...he was a little upset at how I tried to keep him off the duty rotations when he was green. I may have gone a little overboard trying to keep him safe. Him and Kurst both, though Kurst took it better, I think. Anyways, I don't know anything Rodrik might have been working on regarding those damned swords. I been trying to clean them up for a few days, but nothing seems to work. Tried staying out late, too, to catch the vandals, but never did."
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"Roddy hasn't spoken 5 words to me in 3 years."
Quill's brow furrows as Omast says something completely contrary to what he had thought he knew as fact.
Sense Motive - is Omast lying?
He looks to the faces of the others to see if they believe him or not.
"Are you sure you haven't spake to Roddy in that long?"
Vashta grinds her teeth, frustrated that everything seems to be a dead end.
"He doesn't seem to know anything useful, and seems more a danger to himself than the assassins would be. Maybe we should try the apprentice next?"
Storn frowns. "What were you told about the swords? Omast and Rodrik were all about them? Maybe they were just looking into it separately. Bah, check the information later. Finding that apprentice sounds good to me."
"Might be a bit of an exaggeration, but not by much. Ask Kurst, he'll tell you. What apprentice?"
Looks back over to the drunk, "Half-orc apprentice..." she trails off, not wishing to give away too much information, despite the drunk's seeming ineptness. Wet whistles tend to sound the loudest.
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Quill looks confused, still wondering where he heard that Omast was working with Roddy and why someone would lie about that...or were they just confused?
"No matter. Let's go talk to the Iomedeans," Quill suggests, having no further questions for Omast. He does, however, search his memory for who told him that.
Quill leads the way to the Iomedeans, entering again and asking for the Priest.
"We have questions about the unwashable symbols," Quill mentions, unless he is talking to the acolyte that saved his life last night...at which point he willl gush and thank again.
You take your leave of Omast Frum, confident that he was telling the truth as he sees it, and that you could find the man again if need be. The man looked about as you left, noticing the small crowd watching for the first time. He looked a little embarrased, and mumbled something about drying out before heading off.
Quill's suggestion to go back to Sanctuary seemed to be the best bet, and given that it was already around noon, it seemed likely that the High Priestess would have returned by now. The acolyte that answered the door this time was a young woman, who looked a little nonplussed at Quill's statement.
"Um...okay. High Priestess Varvatos just arrived a half hour ago. She is taking a quick meal and cleaning up from the road, but I will let her know that there is someone to see her."
A few minutes later, a woman in her late twenties, garbed in the robes of a priestess of Iomedae, appeared. "Jocelyn tells me you have some questions for me? Something about the graffiti all over town? hold a moment, you are Quill, the fletcher's boy are you not? Carver told me of your run-in with assassins last night. By Iomedae's grace, I am so very glad that he was nearby when you needed the help."
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Quill straightens his jerkin and cloak when it's clear that they will be meeting with High Priestess Varvatos.
"Carver told me..."
Quill's face brightens, anxious to tell the Priestess about the wonderfulness of Carver.
"Oh yes! That's him! The one who saved my life!" Quill beams, turning around to show where the assassin's blade entered his spleen. "The assassin came out of no where to stab me in the back. I was going to die, I'm sure...but then Carver was there! And Iomedae! They both were there!!"
Quill will blather more about Carver until he is stopped or someone, maybe more mature, steps in and gets the conversation back on track.
Molly slings a companionable arm around Quill's neck and half-throttles him while she grins at the high priestess and young Carver.
"Well, in't it just loverly when there's such a good rapport between church and society?" she says, beaming at everyone. "Aye, and thanks be ta the gods - er, the goddess in this case - that this young man were here ta keep our young man out of the court of Pharasma before his due day."
Molly smile and wink at Carver are nothing if not friendly.
"But yeh, we got some questions what's to do with the white swords an' the recent killin's. You got some time fer us, milady? An' wouldya prefer ta do it out here in the streets or in the shrine?"
"I see. Well, why don't you come into my office, and we can discuss your questions there."
Once in her office, the High Priestess turned and said, "Now, what questions did you have, and how can the Church of Iomedae help?"
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Quill looks to see if anyone wants to speak or whether he's the only one with a tongue.
"Well...you've heard of Roddy's death, right? It was rumored that he was investigating those white, painted Iomedean symbols that have been appearing about town. Those are the same ones you just can't scrub off," Quill explains. "Do you know anything about those?"
Vashta nods, nervously shifting her weight from side to side as she awaits an answer.
I should have waited outside. I didn't want to come in before and the last thing I need is the church's eye on me.
Mariana shakes her head slightly as she hears Quill and then she continues, hoping to make things a bit more smooth. "What my companions are trying to see if you can provide any information on some of the odd happenings around town. People often tend to ignore the clergy when they are talking, especially if they think that said clergy is ignoring them. Do you think you might be able to give us a hand in our search?"
Wearily the High Priestess sat on a cushioned chair, and waved for you to do likewise on the various chairs and benches along the walls of her office. "Yes, I know of Rodrik's death, though I wasn't aware of his investigating that graffiti. I was told immediately upon my return. It's a shame, too. That young man was good for this community. He will be missed greatly."
"And please, not every sword is one of Iomedae's. Whoever is painting these things across town is certainly not one of my flock. As far as I can tell, they are nothing more than someone's attempt at a joke, laughing silently to themselves as they watch people with far better things to do waste their time trying to clean up the mess. There was even one on the back of this building, though I understand one of the priests misused one of Iomedae's blessings to remove it." She frowned at the recollection.
She paused for a moment as she considered the last half of Yelena's statement, and then Mariana's. "I don't know anything of this half-orc you speak of. There are quite a few in town, you know, and not everyone graces these halls with their presence. Katrezra might though. Not that all half-orcs need to know each other, but they do hold a special place in this community. Come to think of it, if you are investigating Rodrik's death, then you probably want to talk with him anyway. Katrezra and Rodrik met frequently in the last few weeks."
"Normally, you could find him here, as his condition requires daily medical care. But, he disappeared while I was away. I can't imagine he has gone far, given his condition, but I have no idea where he went. perhaps Brantos can be of more service. He tended Katrezra most often, and had a friendship with the half-orc."
High Priestess Tyari Varvatos rose and opened her office door. In a hushed voice she asked one of the acolytes outside to find Brantos and bring him to her office. Then, she closed the door and asked, "While we wait for Brantos, was there anything else?"
"Yeah... You said a blessing removed a white sword? Just for reference, which blessing was it? And... do you know if only specific buildings've been marked? Significant buildings? And uh, who's this Katrerza and what's his trouble?"
The priestess got an irritated look on her face as she replied, "He used what was essentially a minor miracle to have the graffiti removed. A blessing that could have been saved for someone gravely injured, or unto death. Or even...well, it could likely have cured Katrezra, if he had been inclined to allow it. As for his condition, that is his story to tell. All I will say is that he is afflicted by terrible open sores and internal bleeding, neither of which is contagious, but make even sitting or lying still extremely painful for him. Like I said, it is unlikely he will go far from this place of healing, nor remain away for long."
"Right, right..." Molly says, nodding. "Sooo... Any chance we could have a chat with your man who uh, wasted the blessing as well as Brantos?"
"I am afraid he will be unavailable for a few days. He is serving a penance for wasting the Lady's blessing frivolously. If there is something specific you wish to learn from him, I might consider allowing him to break his penance if it seems worthwhile"
"It is," says Storn bluntly. He looks keenly at the priestess with a less than friendly expression on his face. "Does Iomedae's healing blessing usually clean up graffiti?"
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Quill looks at the High Priestess.
"Well, we could get more detail on the exact prayer he used to remove the symbol...it might help us backtrack how to get rid of the rest or how they were created," Quill suggests. "Heck, it might be interesting to ask why he thought that a special blessing would remove the symbol...but *even* more interesting than that would be *why* he wanted to remove it that badly."
Quill looks around.
"Why would he want to remove a symbol to his deity? And risk a powerful prayer and punishment in doing so?"
"These white swords ain't Iomedae's symbol, though, are they?" Molly says. "Everyone thought they were just graffiti." She frowns, pensive. "But someone went to a lot of trouble to make something nigh-irremovable... I think this more than just a prank."
Vashta agreed with Molly.
"It's definitely something more than a prank. The question is what, and is it for good or ill for the town?"
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"As I said before, what he used was essentially a minor miracle. Hmph, I can see I am not explaining this correctly. In the secular world, the word 'miracle' is ascribed to anything someone can't explain. Lucy's pox fever broke? It's a miracle. The tree didn't hit the barn when it fell in the storm? It's a miracle. The two-headed kitten lived? It's a miracle. But in reality, sometimes pox fevers run their course, the wind was blowing away from the barn, and two-headed animals live all the time. It may not happen often, but it does happen."
"When I speak of a miracle, I am referring to the touch of a deity's hand onto this mortal plane. A working of divine power that is so intimately connected to the god's or goddess' nature that no force on Golarion could explain it. And because of that connection, no deity can wreak such miracles too often, or their very power would erode the fabric of this planet. Prayers and spells tap into the divine and arcane forces to cause limited effects on this world."
"A miracle sidesteps all those normal limitations and allows the full, unfiltered divinity of Iomedae - or any other deity - to directly touch the fabric of the world. Done casually, or without concern for the possible consequences, such a touch could destroy half the world. Which is why, under no uncertain terms, the Church of Iomedae strives to carefully constrain how such miracles are used."
"Yes, there is the theological debate that if the outcome were not desired by Iomedae, she would not allow her touch to be used in such a manner. But, if given the choice, would you not prefer to let the scullery maid clean the baseboards while freeing the Queen to address points of law that benefit her subjects? Using the goddess' blessing to wipe off a bit of graffiti - no matter how irritating the defacement be - is a gross misuse of power, and one that cannot be countenanced by the Church."
"And your question of why he would use such a power to clean off graffiti is quite telling, and is the reason he is currently engaged in soul-searching penance. He told me that he was irked at the stubborn refusal of the mark to come off, and in a fit of peeve, went and used the Blessing. Such a lapse of judgement calls into question his theological foundations, and puts the Church in a difficult position."
"Now, please. This is an internal matter for the Church of Iomedae, and I shall speak no more about it. Were you not here looking for information that could help with the investigation of Rodrik Grath's death, I would not have said as much. Ah, I do believe that Brantos has arrived."
The door to the office opened, and a human male walked in. Though he wore only a robe and tunic, like the other priests in Sanctuary, he had a military bearing. Straight-backed and heavily muscled, the man walked in and stood to attention before the High Priestess.
"At ease, Brantos. I have told you before that I am a priestess, not a general. You do not need to treat me as a commanding officer. These are a group of people investigating Rodrik Grath's death, and the white swords painted around town. I am afraid their names are mostly unknown to me, though I do know quill here, and Yelena. They wanted to talk to Katrezra, and I suggested you might have some of the information they seek."
"That's what I'm getting at!" complains Storn. "Healing magic doesn't clean up bloody graffiti. It does harm undead though."
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Standing transfixed by the wisdom pouring out from the High Priestess, Quill stands silent until she finishes speaking. Then, Quill steps forward to look at Brantos.
"Brantos, we want to know how you think the symbols were created. And where Katrezra might be. And anything you might know about Roddy's death."
Everyone in the room seemed to ignore Storn's outburst, though the High Priestess' expression tightened slightly.
Brantos filled the following silence with "Hmm, I see. Well this should be quick then. In order: I have no idea how the symbols were created, I have no idea where the half-orc went, and I didn't even know Rodrik Grath was dead until Carver told us all. I'm sorry I can't be of more help. I know Rodrik and Katrezra used to sit and talk for hours about whatever it was that Rodrik was investigating, but I respected their privacy and never listened in. As for where Katrezra might be, you might ask Sara Morninghawk down at Clamor. She keeps pretty good tabs on most of the half-orcs in town, and I know she and Katrezra are kind of chummy. Anything else I can help you with?"
Vashta grinds her teeth.
"We just keep driving this caravan around in a bloody circle!" she complains.
Ask him to tell Katreza we want to talk to him and to leave a note for us at the Ramblehouse, she mentally urges her companions, preferring not to speak for the moment. Hmm. There should be some way to actually make sure they hear those thoughts. Must remember to look into that.
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"Anything else I can help you with?"
Quill sighs, feeling the frustration of repeating one's actions again to little reward. He pushes it from his mind.
"No, Brantos, you've been helpful enough. Thank you, we'll be on our way," Quill says with hidden disappointment.
Quill looks to the party after they leave the presence of the clergy and temple.
"If you want, I can check with Sara Morninghawk alone...if there are other things to be done. Seems like everything goes in a circle," Quill mentions. "There is just a lot of stuff we can't explain...yet."
Quill walks to the Clamor, the party probably in tow.
Vashta follows along Quill.
"I thought I'd walked a lot before I came to Trunau, but today's proving to be a whole new caravan."
Before they are tossed aside, Mariana looks to the High Priestess and bows, having lifted her head out of the book she was scribbling away at. "You have been most kind and quite informative, I am sorry if we distracted you from other duties or bothered you in any way," she says with another bow.
At Storn's words, she looks over to him, "I'm not an expert...yet...but don't most undead radiate some form of magic? The white marks do not. I firmly believe them to be alchemical..." she trails off then scribbles notes as Brantos talks.
After he finishes she smiles warmly and nods to him again. "Thank you, so very much. I hope that perhaps we could talk again? I find the dichotomy of church and military to be very interesting and I would love to hear an insider's views on it!"
As they step out and Quill offers to go alone, she shakes her head, "I think, knowing we have assassins on our case, we would be smart to not split up anymore for a while...at least until we see this through..."
"Yeah, kiddo," Molly says, reaching over to ruffle Quill's hair. "Wasn't getting stabbed once enough for you?" The Kellid girl grins, to take some of the sting out of the question. "Man, I wish we could've talked to that penitent priest, though. Her nibs might not agree with a deed like that, but I wonder why Iomedae was willing... Might be something right nasty about that graffiti."
Clamor was living up to its name as you arrived, with Sara using a combination of heat and brute force to weld three steel rods together to form the spine of a new longsword. She looked up as you entered, wiped the sweat from her brow and glared at Yelena.
"Look, Yelena, I know you are helping Kurst look into his brother's death, but any idea when you'll be back to work? We are starting to fall behind with both you and Urnsal gone. She wasn't much help at the anvil, but at least she could pump the bellows."
She glanced at everyone with Yelena and said, "I assume you aren't here to help out. More questions?"
"Yes," Vashta says amid the din. "We're looking for Katreza and were told you might know where we could find him?"
Mariana quickly falls in step with the rest of the group. "The sooner we complete this, the sooner we might be able to get Yelena back to you...and heck, I would love to help work the bellows for a day or two to learn some things once this is over!" Mariana spouts out with excitement.
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Quill hasn't spent much time in the Clamor...armor and metal really aren't his things (save for when he requested metal tips for arrows) and the clanking and banging wasn't his favorite either. Seeing as how it was quieter today, Quill browses whatever wares Sara has for sale. Not that he can afford anything, but the young elf was want to dream...and a nice sword or big sword.
His long ears pick up the conversation and he is ready to jump in with questions but...swords!!
Storn grumbles as he walks into the Clamor with the rest of the group.
"What I meant to say earlier about the graffiti is that the graffiti may have some sort of unholy property to it if healing magic gets rid of it. Something to look at later - thankfully the Lord in Iron isn't a wimp with his blessings like some Goddesses."
He folds his arms and stands imposingly behind Vashta as she asks about Katreza.
"This isn't a particularly large town. Too many people are missing or difficult to find, I don't like this."
Sara Morninghawk looks at Vashta flatly as the arcanist asks about Katrezra, then motions you back to her office. Once inside, she rounds on the group. "Why have you come here looking for Katrezra? Who told you he was here? Why do you think I know where he might be? Have you been spreading the word that Katrezra is here? He is a good man, and I'll not allow any to accuse him..."
She broke off as a door opened behind her. The door, which likely led to a storage closet, was held open by an older half-orc, with suppurating sores all over the visible parts of his body. The half-orc was completely hairless. When he spoke, it was with a raspy voice. "Easy, Sara. These are the ones I told you about. I am sure they are simply looking for me to ask questions about my relationship with Rodrik Grast. You are the ones that are helping Kurst investigate his brother's death, are you not?"
Following and listening, her eyes grow wide when the half-orc steps in.
"Yes, Katrezra, that is the only reason we are seeking you. And it is largely because of associations, not because we have any belief that you are involved in it. You were seen with Rodrik quite a lot in deep conversation, so we were hoping we might learn what all was involved in that and if that might help our investigation..."
Storn, wisely, shuts up.
"It is no great secret that I was blessed - or cursed, depending on how you look at it - with preternatural visions many years ago during my time with the Empty Hand Clan. Since I left those savages, many have sought my counsel for matters ranging from the mundane to the mythical. But, I'm afraid the omens that assault my dreams are nigh indecipherable, even to me, and I have no means of control or direction over them."
"Rodrik Grast first sought me out for advice while courting Brinya Kelver. I don't know what he was thinking, poor fool. Insights into a half-orc's traditions? Visions of their everlasting happiness? Her favorite color? Please! Do I look like the romantic type to you? I couldn't help him, but he persisted in talking with me even still. A friendship grew there, and I do myself the honor of thinking that besides his brother and Brinya, I may have been the closest friend he had."
"A few weeks ago, I started receiving visions of white crosses or swords hovering over the town. The Plague House featured heavily in these same dreams, as did a feeling of dread. When I told Rodrik of them, he said that he was investigating something, and my dreams might be of use. A few days later, the first of the white sword graffiti was reported."
"I have since seen more and more visions of the white swords, the Plague House, and of a dark cloud covering Trunau. I believe there is more to the Burned Church than burned wood and rubble. Rodrik did as well, and visited there two days before he died."
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Quill looks at Katreza as if he had never seen the half-orc before...and wonders how he missed him in all his years in town. Looking at the festering sores, Quill shivers. Oh. He doesn't get out much.
"The Plague House?" Quill's jaw drops open, another moment of supposed Elven presence lost. "Isn't that just out of town? The old church place?"
Quill thinks.
"So, Katreza, you don't know much anything about the white symbols either? That's disappointing. Do you know anyone who might have wanted Roddy dead?"
Quill looks to the others.
"Maybe we should go there and check out the Plague House?"