GM Blazej's PbP 0-04: The Frozen Fingers of Midnight (Inactive)

Game Master Zynete

intimidate: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (15) + 9 = 24

I'll expend a charge of my wand if no offers heal him.

Slowly, Kuriq paces himself back and forth in front of the captive, speaking in a calm but harsh manner "I may be a follower of a forgiving deity, but no that I wasn't always. If you choose not to reveal what you know, I shall have to take the words out of your mouth with nothing less than pain."

He maintains a steely glare at you as Kuriq speaks, but it falters and cracks. The guard closes his eyes in submission, defeated again and unable to meet the inquistor's eyes.

"I ... I will talk."

"I work for a Bengeirr Bjornsson. Son of Haldyr Bjronsson. Skelg pillaged Haldyr's funeral ship. We about a week or two ago and he had us break in and recover what he had taken and anything else we could hold."

"Skelg found us there and one of the others activated some magical lantern that has some damnable magic on it. The light from it struck both The Ripper and a wall. We were not sure what it was doing and ran." He stops for a moment to clarify, as though he announcing his flight as a contemptible action without explanation. "Witch magic. Don't know what it was doing, but it is a fool that stands there to see what happens."

"We took what we had and returned to Bengeirr in a warehouse by the docks. He had us come back and we cut down Skelg's guards. Skelg is still up there with his last feeble servant. Dying from a curse of cold. Bengeirr told us to let him stay as he is and let him die in bed."

Watching Kuriq patch up the surviving guard, Marcus mutters to himself. "My my, this wound does sting. Hrmm..."

He swiftly walks back out through the front gate and flags down a random passerby. "Sir sir! Be a good chap and run along to the Grand Lodge of Absalom and inform them that Marcus Vulpares Fantailler, son of Marcus Vultulus Fantailler, wishes for a favor on behalf of the Taldan Embassy. I require the aid of magical curatives!"

Spending 2PP on a wand of cure light wounds if that is possible.

The first man Marcus accosts excuses himself and suggests that he is being mistaken for someone else before moving along his way. Most on the street have no interest in coming to Marcus's aid. He does draw the attention though of a young message runner who is willing to take coin to deliver any messages he wishes.

"Although sir, I'm certainly not one to be carrying worth more than I can earn through the streets."

Access to faction resources within Absalom is viable. The wand will be available for pickup after any remaining encounters here at the Greydog Manor.

"You are hurt, effendi?" Mandhur reaches for a thin leather case and pulls from within a slender wand carved from the heartwood of a white birch tree. This straight, incredibly smooth wand has no burrs or defects. "Please, accept Sarenrae's grace"

Wand of cure light wounds: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8

Kuriq ponders for a moment, trying to make sense of the words that comes out of the mans mouth. He turns around to the others, giving a somewhat confused look "Why would Skelg pillage a funeral ship? I was under the impression this was an honourable man. Well, all good questions for Skelg." Kuriq starts to head into the place to speak to Skelg, leaving behind wounded man. He ensures though to make it known before he enters, that he watches the man, as he turns his head and gives him a glare prior to entry.

"I'm certain that we will find out. If his actions were not held to the measure of the law, he will be bound by its chain."

As an afterthought, Thokzazt glances to the obviously shaken Ulfen.

"If I find your actions were wanting in the eyes of the law, Your judgement will be swift and merciless."

With a self affirming nod, he retrieves his shield, secures it to his arm, and enters the Manor.

Marcus looks about, awfully confused. "Carrying worth more than he earns? What a pitiful little man... 'S not more than seventy and five pieces of the king's platinum. My servants back home made such deliveries without complaint nor fear!"

He furrows his brow and thinks for a moment. "Although that may have been due to the penalties for obstructing officials within the employ of the Duke."

About halfway through that thought, Marcus seemingly ignores Mandhur's offer, although after a moment of awkward silence he looks around and looks back at the Cleric. "Erm... Effendi? My name is Marcus, not Effendi..."

Marcus will happily accept the healing. And probably a slap across the face for foolishness. Thanks!

Turning back to Thokzazt he strokes his chin, as if expecting facial hair to be there.

"So Skelg pillaged a funeral ship? Was he so desperate for coin or misled?"

Feeling foolish stroking a non-existant beard, he shifts to kitsune form and continues. "Or is this rabble just painting a gruesome portrait of a foe? Such details we will have to uncover, but as for judgement... Well he is the good friend of a high ranking man in the Pathfinder Society. That must certainly count for something right?"

He looks back and forth between his bloodstained compatriots before shifting back to human form and shrugging. "Right?"

There is not even an ounce of sarcasm in his voice, just confidence and cluelessness.

After another awkward pause he falls in line and follows Thokzazt into the abode.

The Ulfen doesn't seem to hold the law in any high regard, but holds enough respect for the strength of the party to avoid antagonizing them. He waits for judgement you bring him to or any other questions you might have.

-

The manor is largely inactive with little beyond bare furnishings throughout. There are places where one might expect carpets or sculptures that hold nothing now. The only place with any life is the master bedroom of the manor.

Opening the door into the bedroom releases a blast of heat. A roaring fighter blazes in the fireplace even though the day is swelteringly hot. A huge bearded man shivers under his blankets, his bed pushed dangerously close to the fire. A thin servant sits in the far corner by a window, fanning himself with a handkerchief.

The bearded man looks at you and blinks a few times, then speaks though chattering teeth. "Are y-you P-path-f-finders?"

Seeming unfazed by the heat, Thokzazt approaches the bed, and places a hand on the man's forehead.

"My name is Thokzazt, and we represent the society. You seem to be... Ill. You are Skelg, the Ripper?"

I have Deathwatch as an At Will Spell Like Ability. I'd like to use it as I inspect Skelg, and (basically) spend a Standard Action every 2 minutes to refresh it. Let me know if it drops in combat?

Thokzazt I'll let you know if and when deathwatch runs out in combat. I'll also note if any enemies are fragile [3 hit points or less].

"G-g-good, he g-got my m-mess-age. I am Sk-Skelg." The man's body is shaking throughout suffering from some sort of illness. He tries to speak more but even this small amount of effort he put into announcing himself exhausts him.

Thokzazt can see that he is fighting off death.

The servant sees his master wishing to speak and moves to help, although he is timid and wary of the party.

"Yes. This is Master Skelg. I am Tyros, his servant. Thank you for your quick arrival. If it may please you I am happy to answer any questions you may have."

Skelg sputters a bit as it tries to take control of the conversation again, but falters and submits to Tyros speaking for him.

Marcus adopts a very formal pose and speaks as if through training more than through any real understanding of the man's current predicament.

"And I am Marcus Vulpares Fantailler, son of Marcus Vultulus Fantailler. Perhaps you have heard of him in your service to the emperor? No? But I digress. We are here to give aid on behalf of Adril Hestram, Venture-Captain within the Pathfinder Society. We have reason to believe that your malady has been brought on by an artifact you may have had contact with during a past struggle. It seems as though some of your enemies have been on these premises to make sure that the curse runs its course. As Venture-Captain Hestram considers you a good friend, we have been sent to you to ensure the contrary. We have dispatched a pair of thugs that have been tasked to ensure that nobody is able to intervene with the curse that brings you low right now which to me means but one thing."

Marcus smiles and stands proudly. "If they wish that you receive no aid, then they fear that aid can cure your present condition."

Diplomacy to improve attitude: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23 +2 if he's considered to be from Taldor.

He motions to Mandhur to come close.

"Please, inform these fine gentlemen of anything you can think of that might shed some light on the source of your malady."

Heal: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (5) - 1 = 4

He seems completely oblivious to the current state of Skelg, understanding that he is ill and no more.

Oh boy! Heal checks!

Heal: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (8) - 1 = 7

"He appears to be fighting off death. I am not a Physician, so more than that is beyond me."

Turning to Tyros, Thokzazt immediately begins asking questions.

"What did your master do to deserve this foul illness? Do you know who could be responsible?"

"It was son of one of the master's rivals from the west."

"Be-bee-n-geirr!"

"Yes, Bengeirr. Skelg and his father Haldyr had come into conflict several times. Bengeirr came here upset that the master had claimed the vast majority of the tribute Haldyr was intended to be destroyed with his body."

"Gree-dy aaa-" He gives a cry of pain and Tyros tends to him and moving to place another log on the fire. "He-he want-ted to le-ave no-nothing. To bury what I-I fou-ought him for alo-long w-with his-s wife at sea."

"There was a lantern among those items. When Bengeirr's men first came, there was a conflict and light from the lantern hit the master along with one of the tapestries. Master began to suffer as he does now and the tapestry opened into a temporary portal to another place."

Kuriq nods his head throughout the conversation as if to signify understanding. Also, as a hot blooded, he clasp his hands with that of Skelg, hoping to provide him some temporal relief. Asking on one in particular, "What of this lantern and the tapestry? Do we know more about it? It's location at least"

Quicky shifting back to human form, he watches the others fish information out of the warrior. "What did this lamp look like? And is it still here?"

Satisfied there would be no further information acquired, he follows the others into the room. Eyeing the man's skin pallor as he approaches, he checks his wrist for a pulse.

Heal: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11

"Seems you are attempting to freeze over." he mutters, as Marcus launches into his dialogue.

Really? Must he do that to everyone?? Hi I'm Marcus Vulpares Fantailler... mocking the man mentally, he awaits the end of his speech.

Turning to the timid servant, he demands "This portal, could you see where it lead? Is the lamp still on the property? Have you any knowledge to who the lamp originally belonged to?"

"The wh-whelp has th-the lantern!"

"Bengeirr's men took the lantern. I'm not certain if he still has it, but I doubt he would have sold it. The tapestry is still down the hallway near the vault."

"Tirfyr w-went th-though!"

"Yes of course sir. Tirfyr, one of the master's guards, went though the portal after the initial attack. He said it let to a ship encased in ice. He went back to explore further, but in less than an hour the portal vanished and we haven't heard from him since."

"The sh-hip is Haldyr's! D-dead and count-t-tries away he st-ill tr-trying to kill me!" Skelg tries to rise and rage in in the moment but he barely can lift his arms and just collapses into the bed, curses slurring through his shivering lips."[/b]

"The tapestry now depicts Haldyr's ship. I could show you to it."

The tapestry is down the hall and shows an Ulfen longship on a rolling sea, mostly encased in an iceberg.

"That was how it looked after the portal vanished."

Once Skelg has a chance to recover and calm himself he does describe the lantern in greater detail. "A la-large b-bullseye lan-n-n-tern. Met-tal cold t-to touch. Sm-mells of th-the sea. Ha-haldyr had the l-lantern on h-his ship. D-don't kn-now where he g-got it."

Thokzazt approaches the tapestry, to get a closer look.

Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 20

"It appears that the lantern hung from the Mouth of the figurehead. The lantern ring is empty now."

Glancing over at Utara, Thokzazt murmurs "I think it is best to find Bengeirr's side of the story. Barring that, retrieving that which is due to Skelg."

"Why is he still trying to kill you? For most insults a duel to first blood should suffice. This seems to me more like a declaration of war! His thug... or should I say his soldier suggested that their operation was based out of a warehouse in the docks. Once my fellow Pathfinders have finished their study of this assault, perhaps we should go pay him a visit under a banner of truce."

He smirks, but quickly regains composure. "A banner of truce is a wonderful tool... it either informs your foe that you wish for a non-violent solution, or it quickly informs you that the rules of engagement need not be followed."

He watches as Skelg falls back to the bed. "Does anyone here perchance possess magic capable of inuring oneself or another to the discomforts of harsh elements?"

Regarding the motivations of Bjornsson Skelg gets out, "Vegen-gence. Y-you would ne-need to ask him yo-yourself."

"The first priests we called attempted such magic to no avail. Their more powerful wards against the cold helped Skelg with the pain, but they only lasted for a few hours and curse continued to gain a stronger hold on him even in that time."

perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11

Kuriq initially does not observe the lantern ring but does so after Thokzazt points it out. He pays close attention to it curiously. He turns to the room enquiring, "Does anyone have a lantern?"

I'm almost certain hanging a regular lantern does nothing, but out of professional curiousity. ifrit's are curious fellows.

Turning later to Marcus with regards to his question."I'm afraid I do not, my blood provides me with some amount of natural cooling from the heat but if it's the cold we sought best we acquire some gear before travels."

"Lantern? I can see quite well with little light. I did not think to obtain one."

He turns to Skelg. "Well, we shall have to visit the man himself. Do you mind if my compatriot Kuriq explores this domicile? He seems to have a curse of curiosity... one which may only be sated through monotonous inspections. Quite dreary, but I've been told that time spent in reconnaissance is time saved later. I myself do not see the value in such boondoggles, but I was never able to convince my fathers' guards as such and I don't expect to convince Kuriq either. In fact I've found that simply humoring them is worthwhile since it saves time listening to their complaints later. For example, one day-"

This pointless yammering will continue until Kuriq and company are content with their inspection of the premises. Marcus's perception is at -1, but he'll happily come over if his expertise is required.

Skelg just nods in aggreement to the request.

"I can show you throughout the Manor if you wish. However I do not believe there to be a mundane lantern on the premises."

The manor is of a decent size, but an inspection leaves little of interest at the time.

~~After some time of the party searching the premises~~

"-and that is why it is of paramount importance to keep an open line of communication with local merchants. Although frequently if put in a position where-"

Marcus looks over at Kuriq. "Nothing? Well then, we had best speak to Bengeirr. Although I would like to see if the lodge received my message regarding curative magic."

He gives a smile and a curt nod towards the ailing (and probably now bored to death) Skelg. "Worry not, we shall see to it that this curse is lifted from you. I look forward to meeting you again soon."

"What did the tapestry depict prior?"

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (11) + 6 = 17
Noting the same as Thokzazt, Utara nods in response. "Though, keep in mind Thokzazt, we were hired to save this Skelg. So I must insist that even if the others reasons are reasonable, we must comply with our agreement."

Wandering back into the room as his fellow kitsune begins blabbering on again, he sighs. Does it just like to hear itself talk?! Think I'll join in the tour, must be better than listening to this...

Upon returning from the sight-seeing of the manor, he looks to Marcus. "Are you done? As your your earlier question about weather magics, I do from time to time have such an ability. Today the Prince of Darkness didn't feel such things would be required of me. Can we go?"

Will detect magic on the tapestry, just in case.
spellcraft: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (2) + 7 = 9

After a while, without any lantern to hang on the tapestry, Kuriq decides to pay one last look at the tapestry and then head out following behind Utara.

"Yes, we should move. Every moment is crucial to the Skelg. Marcus, were you saying something? I must have missed that." In his moment of concentration, he completely lapsed at Marcus's story.

At some point Skelg stops paying attention to Marcus's story, limiting himself to grunts of acknowledgement the the few moments the aristocrat stops speaking.

"The tapestry showed a meadow scene prior to this with a shepherd and his flock."

The tapestry has no magical radiating from it currently.

For clarification, there is no place on the tapestry to hang the lantern. The ship depicted within is just lacking a guiding lantern.

Bengeirr's man is able to direct you to the the specific location of the warehouse. It is across from The Rosy Fingers Tavern on the west docks.

With the presumption that everyone is content with actions at the manor, the city is open to any additional purchases for ordering or pick up.

It is easy enough to locate The Rosy Fingers Tavern. The warehouse across from it is built right on the docks, party of it extending over the water. The building is thirty feet tall with no visible windows. On the landward side is a pair of large cargo doors with a smaller door built into the right one. Piers run along either side of the building and on the seaward side is a massive set of doors able to accommodate a small ship.

The street is busy, with several taverns among the warehouses. Most of the warehouses have sentries in front of them, and the ships at the docks are similarly guarded. A northlander warrior with an axe resting in his lap sits on a small pile of crates across from the warehouse, obviously keeping watch on the main door.

Marcus will make a quick trip to the Grand Lodge to pick up a wand of Cure Light Wounds so he can avoid being a healing wand leech with his antics.

~~After rejoining with the party~~

"So... a warehouse across the way from a tavern. The Rosy Fingers Tavern. I wonder if they have respectable brandy? Well well, today I am a Pathfinder. The brandy must come later. Shall we announce ourselves?"

Will likely buy a couple of potions of endure elements.

"We should look for another entrance, hit them with the element of surprise." Kuriq comments as he peers around the area.

perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20

It is currently shortly after noon as you are inspecting the warehouse.

Kuriq takes a view of the building and indentifies the two points of entry. There is a main set of doors on street-side. On the water are boat doors that are currently closed, but some might be capable of swimming under.

Untrained Knowledge: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 1 = 21 If only that was an attack roll...

"Must be very dark and dreary inside without any windows. Either that or there are skylights. Hmm, Kuriq, you were looking for a entry with which to gain the element of surprise were you not? Perhaps a skylight entry? It would be imbecilic to expect workers to work efficiently without light."

Kuriq subtle points out the boat entrance to the team. "I like that thought Marcus, I'm not keen for a swim. Is everyone agreeable to that idea?" He turns to the rest with the question, checking his climbing gear simultaneously.

"I climb much better than I swim, but I also have no problem with a more... Direct approach."
Thokzazt secures his shield on his back, and checks to make sure that his equipment will not dislodge either way they approach.

"I don't do either particularly well... I'm willing to give it a go, though. I'm certainly not opposed to a direct approach. The Prince will protect me either way."

Eyeing the warehouse from their location, and the guard a crooked grin on his face. 'That guard wouldn't stand a chance. Though could we take him before he sounded the alarm?'

Turning to Thokzazt, he whispers "Think the crowd would mind a well timed group strike? An instantaneous take down of the guard...may draw suspicion I suppose."

"If a direct approach is desired, I would recommend arriving under a flag of truce. After all, we are here for information."

Marcus smirks and adds "Also, if they refuse the truce I don't have to feel bad about kicking them in the nadgers."

Kuriq looks funnily at Utara. Why does he keep saying the Prince? But pays no further attention and continues to gear up scaling the walls.

"I am not partial to direct approaches." He eyes the group.

If you guys want to the direct approach, go ahead. I'm just keeping it in character!

Not wishing to force movement if not desired, but want to make some details about the roof available early.

Kuriq finds that the building is in disrepair obvious assortment wood that have served to fix holes in the walls over the years. This does make the task of climbing roof to be largely trivial.

Without approaching of them it is easy to see there are four skylights on the roof each protected with steel grates. It is currently midday and light is pouring through each of them.

While the grates are not enough to block arrows or smaller projectiles, this would limit range of fire and grant cover (+4 AC) to the targets unless you are able to remove the grate from the frame.

It is quite likely the townsfolk here would react to assault negatively and call for the town guard who would be on site within a number of minutes.

If you wish to convince the guard to allow you peaceful entry, then some sort of check will be necessary to convince him.

I can certainly -try- to do that, but I'm not sure that would be... uh... advisable. Thokzazt can be very... Brash?

"Barred roof you say? Well, that'd certainly make a spectacle! A full siege in midday... or a building demolition project. Either way I'm sure we'd have the local constabulary sweeping down on us in no time. And I don't know about all of you, but as it were these folk have not heard of my father! Can you believe that? My my, that was not a fun trip to the Taldan embassy. And I've been told that Taldor and the Pathfinder Society have a strained relationship at best..."

He strokes his imaginary beard before continuing. "I could certainly use my negotiation skills to attempt to obtain nonviolent entry though."

I have +6 Diplomacy

I'll play Back up!

While securing the shield to his arm, Thokzazt rumbles "We shall try your silvered tongue first. If does not open the door, I'm certain that Cold Iron will." gesturing to the mace on his hip.
"Requesting access to a den of thieves is a much different approach than I am accustomed to."

"If they give us any trouble, I am but a step behind you."

"I suppose I could try some...negotiating too if need." Utara adds, snapping his human mouth in a biting motion.
-1 Cha mod ftw!

"Barred windows doesn't seem overly helpful here." Looking around the group, "If anyone feels they can achieve our desires with words, feel free."

Hearing Marcus's offer of negotiating, he looks over the group again. "Anyone? Anyone at all?"

:-P

Marcus nods, and then slowly approaches the guard, hands held out in plain sight. He smiles, nods to the guard, and launches into his standard nauseating introduction of his lineage.

Ok Marcus... don't screw this up! Just speak like father would have... Minus all of the yelling.

"Good afternoon! I am Marcus Vulpares Fantailler, son of Marcus Vultulus Fantailler. You may have heard of my family? No?" He looks mildly disappointed but continues. "We come under a banner of truce to discuss a matter of some urgency with Sir Bengeirr Bjornsson."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26 +2 if he hails from Taldor.

Marcus thinks to himself, and opts to keep names and specifics out of this request, hoping that discretion will either earn this man's trust, or at the least bamboozle him enough to allow us entry.

"We hope to come to an amicable agreement regarding the present state of an ally of ours, and possibly regarding a dispute regarding the division of assets from an expedition long past. While our primary duty is on behalf of... hrmmm..."

Marcus pauses a brief moment. No name dropped yet... lord? No. Boss? No, sounds too crude. Friend? Friend of a friend? Ah... client! Yes!

"our.... client... mmyess... I am confident that Sir Bjornsson could find this discussion beneficial to his current state of events."

His current state of events being at the end of our blades that is...

I'm a diplo barbarian! And I'm not even a skald!

The warrior moves his hands to his weapon as your band approaches, but as Marcus speaks he calms down as he prepares to hear a salesman make his offer. An offer he has no attention of accepting.

However, as Marcus outlines the potential benefits the Ulfen man can't help but nod his head in agreement.

"Not sure if it would work out. Our leader is planning on leaving the city soon."

Even as he tries to find a way to turn down the offer early, he moves towards the warehouse door.

Marcus smiles widely. "But of course! Our hope is not to delay your departure one minute."

He fails to conceal a smirk as a few thoughts cross his mind.

Maybe change their destination... to Pharasma's boneyard... but not delay...

He looks over at Thokzazt and motions for him to come close. He whispers to him quickly. "Remember, we're under a banner of truce. That means we don't initiate hostilities... but we end them in whatever way seems best."

Diplomacy: 1d20 ⇒ 14 Good enough for an Aid?

"We can accompany you to the side of Sir Bjornsson. It is no trouble."

With this, Thokzazt keeps pace with the Ulfen man, clearly intent on following him inside.

It is not hard to follow the man as his travel to the door is slow and unenthusiastic. He pauses along the way to stretch his relaxed muscles before approaching the door. He gives it a few swift hits with his fist and yells through the frame, "There is someone here that wants to work out a deal with Bengeirr."

There are bodies on the inside that relay the message further as the guard in front of you retrieves a key and unlocks the warehouse door.

He opens the door revealing the compact warehouse as half of it is devoted to containing an Ulfen longship. There are many seats for rowers across the length. Inside the building are two more Ulfen warriors ready to protect if needed both wearing light chain shirts and minimal cloth in an effort to combat the heat.

Standing on a balcony above is another Ulfen man wearing plate and hefting a massive greatsword at his side, firmly plated into the wooden flooring he stands on. Hanging beside him is a lantern you recognize from Skelg's description. He bellows out to you all from above.

"Who are you and what offer do you make?"

He pauses for a moment to reflect on the situation and adds, "And how did you track me to here?"

I've adjusted the map for the adventure to focus on the warehouse now. Feel free to move yourselves around, although stay within the dashed line if you are going through the main door.

Hearing the query regarding his identity, Marcus feels... overwhelmed with the need to answer the question. Much to the chagrin of his fellow companions who have heard him deliver the same line to everyone of note, and several random passersby within the last hour, Marcus opens his mouth to speak.

"Why I am Marcus Vulpares Fantailler, son of Marcus Vulturus Fantailler. These are my... hrmmm.. co-workers as it may be. We represent..."

He gulps, looking at the Ulfen man's sword and the guards scattered throughout the room.

"...someone who has perhaps both wronged you and been wronged by you. We have been tasked with preventing his... untimely departure and we have reason to believe that you possess that which may hold the key to this... assignment... hmyess."

He looks directly toward the lantern as he ends the sentence. Having an incredible affinity for the sound of his own voice, Marcus continues, doing his best not to say anything of any real value while piling on diplomatic overtones. His eyes flit around the warehouse, and back at his friends as he hopes that by the time he slips his tongue his allies have seen what they need to see.

"We would like to see to it that upon leaving this port that no lingering ill-will follows you. Either from the man in question or from close... friends of his. Friends in high places as it may be."

His answer to the second question is... notably absent from his diatribe.

A d20 roll for rambling: 1d20 ⇒ 3
If that's diplomacy or bluff it's at +6, intimidate or perform (oratory) would be at +1. Choose as you see fit.

As he speaks, he occasionally strokes his non-existent beard. By the end of the monologue his nerves show through as he has apparently begun showing more fox-like features... including actual fur on his chin to stroke.

Bengeirr grows increasing irate as Marcus continues on. "Are you one of those sphinxes things I've heard legends of? Why else do you speak in riddles! Who-" The pieces fall into his place into his mind and he lets out a large laugh. "Oh of course. Skelg the Whimperer. It seems appropriate that he would send a man like you to plead for his poor miserable life."

He motions for his man to close the building. No one outside need to be involved in this private matter.

"I'm not scared whatever plots Skelg may concoct from his death bed nor am I frightened of his so called friends who have been oh so absent since he fell so ill."

"What do you intend to offer me that makes it worth my time to save the life of this pathetic, alleged rival of my father?"