The original message, recreated:
"I understand what you are asking, but let us proceed with caution. I am not the sort of person to confront people because their hearts are not in the right place. Judgement is not easily handed out if all of the facts are not understood. Right and wrong are greater and more complicated than good and evil."
As they rise, Esme looks askance at Artegal, "You shock me Sir Boote, most definitely do you shock me. Are you saying that you believe Evil lies in the hearts of men? Nay, few mortal hearts are able to comprehend Evil, must less harbor it. The best they can do is what you call 'Right and Wrong.' Pettiness, greed, lust or jealousy are not Evil even though one might commit murder in their name. No, Sir Boote, that is not what assails us this night. We are besieged by True Evil Sir Boote, that which corrodes the soul until there is nothing left but a remnant, a black cloud of hate and destruction."
Nathaniel gestures for Esme to lean down for a moment, so he can speak quietly to her, ”I think there is a man, the short, portly fellow over there,” he says with only the slightest nod of his head in the man’s direction, “that we should follow, get to know more about him, if we can. Only he and the local constable seem to have the aura of the kind of evil you are talking about. As long as Luc is with the constable, I have confidence that Master Ninefingers will learn more over a cigar and a drink then I ever could by supernatural means.”
Esme detects very little magic here in the courtyard. The occasional commoner here has some modest magical ornament, most of them of the protection or illusion sort. Mediocre and non-threatening, for the most part. But the man Artegal seems to be indicating has a number of magical auras surrounding him of a more insidious nature. Weapons, Esme determines, though none are apparent at first glance.
Esme has Knowledge Arcane, Religion, Planes, Dungeoneering all at 8.
These are the "monster types" covered by each knowledge skill. The skills give you other things you know, but these are the most commonly needed:
Knowledge Dungeoneering: (aberrations, caverns, oozes, spelunking)
Knowledge Planes: (the Inner Planes, the Outer Planes, the Astral Plane, the Ethereal Plane, outsiders, planar magic)
Knowledge Religion: (gods and goddesses, mythic history, ecclesiastic tradition, holy symbols, undead)
Esme Perception:
Esme Knowledge (any):
Ariadne Perception:
Esme notices that the short portly man seems to be overly interested in observing his immediate neighbors, especially from vantage points where his scrutiny goes unnoticed. He crosses to a beer vendor and bumps into a young man, excusing himself. Ariadne turns to Esme and tugs at her belt, making the soft sound she uses to get her Mistresses attention. She reaches her paw into Esme's pouch and mimes taking something. Esme feels the creature's conviction and knows the man must be stealing from the crowd.
The clouds rumble ominously overhead and the smell of impending rain drifts on the breeze.
Nathaniel will probably not notice Ariadne's actions, but is instead observing the portly man.
"Miss Proust, We might be running out of time here. Let's rejoin Master Rockborn and if we can separate him from the constable, compare notes and determine if there is something here that is truly sinister, or if we might simply be on the verge of meddling in the affairs of the local population. Before we undertake anything drastic, I do want to introduce ourselves to the town's mayor or council if it has one. I firmly believe in the duty of asking for permission rather than embarrassment of having to ask for forgiveness."
Assuming the constable has nothing else to add to our conversation, Ninefinger's will mull around until the group reunites. "Interesting little village," is all he mentions to the others until they are safely alone.
Aldo is becoming less coherent by the moment. Luc suspects by the man's demeanor that he is not accustomed to smoking and might soon be ill.
Luc makes he steps slightly away to avoid unintentional splattering. Pass-out big fella, folks would be better fer it... you judgmental fool.
"Interesting little village"
"Too much gold", mutters Nicu quietly, "an ill omen for certain", then his face brightens, "but the dancing was great!"
Esme looks down at Artegal appraisingly, one eyebrow raised. "By all means, Sir Boote."
Scanning the crowd, Esme absentmindedly taps her lower lip with one long, black nail. Kneeling to pet Ariadne, she again looks at Artegal, her emerald eyes flashing. "Did I so drastically misread your character Sir Boote? I tell you that a dead spirit gives me warning and you would dismiss it after a few moments of glancing around, lest it bring you embarrassment? Tell me Sir Boote, is it dead spirits you don't believe in? Or is it witches?"
Turning from the halfling, Esme finds an empty bench and takes a seat, her back ramrod stiff. Watching the crowd carefully, she absentmindedly strokes Ariadne's black fur. "Yes dear, I know you sense it, so does the wolf. Keep your eyes open lest we become entangled in this web."
Esme keeps an eye on the short man but isn't really interested in pickpockets. Still, if he leaves the immediate area, Ariadne will follow.
"I have about the same degree of experience with spirits of the departed who take it upon themselves to pronounce dire warnings as I do with witches, which in both cases is severely limited. What I choose to believe is not relevant. You say you were given a warning, from a spirit. Tell me was this spirit malevolent? Should we be afraid of this spirit or its warning? If there is a threat to these people, and if the responsible authority in this village is not capable of dealing with that threat, and if, only if, I can be assured that my personal assistance is requested, and authorized, will I begin to consider taking any actions beyond the honest curiosity I was born with. Miss Proust, forgive me if I seem insensitive to you unique perspective on this matter, but until I am sure we are acting within the law, and our assistance is requested, I am and will remain hesitant to act before I think. “
The discussion has attracted Olivia's attention and she approaches with a concerned look on her face. "Is everything alright? Artegal, is something wrong?" almost on cue Aldo sinks to knees and vomits noisily. "Oh, I see Aldo is well into his cups. I should be getting back to check on Mama soon, as well." she says, shaking her head slightly. "Were you able to enjoy the dance at least?" she directs the question to everyone, but gives Artegal a searching look.
"Esme, how about you stop giving people a hard time and just say plainly what you think is going on. Everyone's on edge for no good reason that I can come up with besides a vague feeling of wrongness and a lot of conjecture. If you know more, spill it."
Overhead there is a terrific crack of thunder and rain begins to fall in fat, stinging drops. The people cry out in surprise and scramble for shelter, most heading through the streets to their respective homes. Olivia steps under the awning of a nearby shop and looks expectantly at the group.
The portly man pulls up the hood of his cloak and dashes out into the crowd and disappears from view.
Rannveig, uncharacteristically, speaks up.
"Something was watching us. Something..." She gropes for the words, not sure how to explain the sensation of a predator knowing there was a bigger predator nearby. Finally, she gives up, finishing, "Something bad."
, Nicu fails to keep sight of the man.
I remove the jacket of my uniform and dash over to where Olivia ran
"If we hurry," Nathaniel says, making eye contact with Olivia if he can, "We can make it to your home before we are drenched. I promised that I would help take care of your mother tonight, and I try to keep my promises."
I then lift the jacket with both hands and hold it over her head.
Olivia smiles appreciatively and says "Alright, let's run then!"
She gathers up her yellow skirts, now slightly muddied along the hem and flashes Artegal an impish grin and recites a children's rhyme used for foot races. "One for pennies, two for the show, three to make ready and four to go!" and jogs off toward the Tavern and Inn, trying to keep pace with Artegal so they can both shelter somewhat under his jacket.
Her mood has lifted much since the revelry. She laughs lightly, like the sound of tinkling bells. "I wonder if Gregorio is doing this for Alexandria... Did you see him speaking with her? I'm glad he summoned up the nerve."
Aldo, the constable, has regained his feet and is moving slowly toward the Constabulary. The pickpocket has made his escape unless someone notices which way he has gone in order to try and follow. Unseasonably cold rain is pouring down and the crowd has dissipated. Only vendors remain, still packing up what food and drink they can salvage. One beer vendor has pulled his rolling cart under the Theatre awning and is downing the cups of watered down beer one after another and belching loudly in between. The sight is rather comical to behold.
Esme rises from her seat and takes shelter under an overhang next to Donovan. With Olivia gone, she speaks loud enough for Donovan and anyone near him to hear. She does not speak loud enough for the townspeople to hear.
Drawing herself up, the anger in her eyes is clear as her hair fans out behind her, almost doubling in mass.
"Sir Donovan, I say to you exactly what I said to Sir Boote. I do not know how I could possibly be clearer. It is not that you, or Sir Boote, can not understand me, it is that you do not choose to."
Sensing her mistress's mood, Ariadne desperately looks for the threat, confused that only her friends are present. Esme reaches one hand up to pet the familiar, her nails now nearly four inches long and thick like claws. Visibly trying to bottle her anger, Esme continues.
"Look at Ylva and Ariadne if you doubt my words. Ask Rannveig, who's senses give her the same warning that the Dead give me. Ask Old Magda where her soul went as her body danced to the will of one beside the Prophet of Bones."
Pharasma's name seems to give Esme strength to calm herself somewhat. The death of the Last Azlantean reminds her that whether or not a warning is given, it is the messenger who is blamed in the end. Her nails recede and Ariadne calms.
"This town, this village, this....place....is thinning. It is not what it seems. There is a power here big enough that the wolf and its mistress sense it and they know, as do I, that it's attention is focused on us. I asked Sir Boote to open his eye, that one given to him by his god to read the hearts of men. Sir Boote did not believe my warning and was more interested in a halfling chit and offering his services to the Mayor."
"So, Sir Donovan, I tell you, I cannot be more clear than I have been. We have entered a glammer, occupied by a malevolent presence that watches us. Would you also like to offer your services to those in charge here? Do your thoughts run to more than dalliance or will you be slipping away like the halfling and the rogue?"
Her tirade finished, Esme's eyes drift to the crowd who left and those remaining in the square. Mother, where does my road lie from here? Do I remain and watch, passive? Do I follow the fat man or the halfling girl to protect the paladin?
Reaching into her belt pouch, Esme draws her bones - still blackened from the fire. The seven finger bones, their runes etched by a scared twelve year old, weigh heavily in her hand.
"What is it going to be Sir Donovan? Do you listen to the witch or choose not to understand?"
Perception Esme:
Perception Ariadne:
Ariadne saw which way the rogue went, but she must go quickly if she means to follow him.
Ninefingers does not notice the portly fella as he chuckles to himself about the constables current condition. As the rain falls, he will eventually follow behind Boote and make his way to the inn. Aye, no need fer a bath fer 'nother month now...most excellent.
Dimitrio broke off from Mari's embrace when he heard knocking on the candle shop door. He asks Mari to be quiet as he silently put on boots and pants; he grabbed a dagger on his way over to the door.
He opened the door slightly and seeing Rannveig, opened the door some more. He smiled, nodded towards the back, and signals by raising his eyebrows, hoping Rannveig can take the hint to go away."Yes? Are you lost or something little girl? The festivities are the other way." Dimitrio comically waved his hand shooing the girl away, hoping against home that the socially inept girl get his meaning.
"I get all that. What I'm not hearing is what we can do about it. I don't have any ability to see beyond the skin of the world. I have to rely on people like you for that. So you have me, but I still don't know what I'm supposed to be doing."
Rannveig shakes her head at Dimitrio, pointing back towards the rest of their little band. "Something's wrong. Come."
Still muttering to himself, Nicu follows along with the group. "Every new town I tell them the same thing, 'gold is bad and where it collects so does evil', we're practically professional adventures because it keeps happening. But do they listen, Noooo, 'let's go visit the festival' they say. Sure, what could go wrong at a festival, nothing bad ever happens at those."
Rannveig shakes her head at Dimitrio, pointing back towards the rest of their little band. "Something's wrong. Come."
The demeanor and words of the druid shake the rogue from his love-induced stupor. His face turns grave and he nods to the druid, "OK, give me a couple of seconds." Although he hadn't forged a years long friendship with the group, he had bled with them and knew them to be trustworthy. And someone seemed to be in trouble.
The rogue quickly went back to Mari and started dressing, "Girl don't be alarmed but I have to go; my friends need me. I promise next time we see each other, I will grant you the time you deserve." He bends down, takes her face in his hands, and sweetly kisses her.
With his armor on and his weapons strapped to his side, the rogue saunters outside the candle shop. "OK, Dimitrio is here but by Desna's wings, somebody's house better be burning down. That is one sweet girl in there. So, where's the fire?"
Feeling that her time is running out, Ariadne zips away following after the portly man before he gets too far ahead. Esme feels called to follow and observe the man's actions. Another image of her mother from her youth flashes in Esme's mind, this time her hand extended toward Esme, beckoning her onward.
"You must be diligent, Sir Donovan. Whatever plagues this place looks upon us and hungers. Rannveig feels it as well. The dead are restless here and they warn me this place is dangerous. I heed this warning and pass it along as I must. We all must follow our own path. I hope yours leads to wisdom and old age, Sir Donovan."
Satisfied that she has spoken as plainly as possible, Esme strides away through the rain.
Olivia and Artegal reach the building that houses the Inn and Azura's Tavern and pause under the awning. Artegal's uniform jacket is soaked and dripping. "I hope it's not ruined. I think my dress might be..."
Olivia's dress and curls have darkened from the rain. Her hair hangs almost to her knees now in perfect spiral ringlets, weighed down by the weight of the moisture. The fluttering fabric now hangs and clings to her body in a rather revealing way and as she glances down to appraise the condition of her dress, she blushes and tries to squeeze some of the water from her skirts and fling them away from her legs again but with little effect. She clears her throat and speaks in a slightly higher register. "Ok, yes. I'm going to have to change, please excuse me!" and she darts into the tavern without making eye contact.
She pauses briefly with a confused and worried look on her face as she sees Jovanni behind the bar. Then she quickly rushes up the stairs calling for Azura. "Mama? Mama?!"
Jovanni looks up from his conversation with a few men at the bar and waves to Artegal in greeting. The tavern is still quite busy as it seems some of the revelers retreated here rather than surrender their festivities to the rain. Among the mostly human patrons is one table shared by a Dwarf couple and three Halflings. They nod a greeting to Artegal and Luc as they enter the tavern.
Donovan shakes his head in frustration and disbelief. "Witches." he says with a sigh.
With steel in his eyes he heads back to Azura's. The rain pouring down off his long black coat and his wide hat seemed to fit his mood and his nature.
When he reached the door he simply announced to the room. "There is more going on in this town than we've been told, and I want to know all of it, right now. I don't care how preposterous it might sound. Just talk."
Luc has already taken up position at the bar chatting with patrons and the barkeep attempting to gather information.
"There's too many..." he pauses as his steely gaze sinks in, "unusual disappearances and lack of concern by your esteemed constable in this town." He places his soggy cigar in bowl, "Now, sum'ones gonna give me the scoop, my associates and I can help."
The majority of the crowd laugh off Donovan's bold announcement, but a few people glance around at each other as if trying to determine if others will support or criticize them for speaking out. After a few moments an older man the party recognizes as the town's Jeweler approaches Donovan.
"I'm not sure what you're on about... but there's a lot of theft in this town. The Constable says it must be travelling folk... he's always suspect of performers. But it happens too often to be strangers. I think Aldo's in on it, meself. Strange though, you'd think a smart thief would take all my wares at once, but usually it's just a small thing or two I notice is gone and nothing else disturbed! If I didn't know better, I'd think a ghost was slipping in and taking gems and my best tools!"
A tall burly man sits at the bar talking with Jovanni and turns with interest as the Dwarf speaks up. "Aldo says there's nothin' to be concerned about. Or at least there's nothin' to look into. My sister's gone missin' nine months ago, but she could have just run away, I guess. She always wrote to me when she was travellin' before, though. Still it's possible."
A few more people, mostly crafters report they've had the odd thing go missing here and there. Several seem to think they must have misplaced it only to have found it later back in an obvious location. Various tools for working with various mediums. The Jeweler seems to suffer the most financial loss but the leatherworker, woodworker, blacksmith and silversmith all reported thefts of significant amounts of raw materials. The burly blacksmith was most perplexed of all, as he lost a rather large block of lead. "It's not like it were valuable... and heavy to boot! Just doesn't make sense, I still wonder if someone ain't playin' a prank on me."
'How long has Aldo been in town, either livin' or as the constable?" He looks at the barkeep and the tall man who just spoke up, "Did the strange occurrences begin to 'appen when he showed up? Sumthin' 'bout that man don't sit right." he shakes his head vigorously, "Seems lazy, very judgmental and frankly, too quick to explain things away."
Noticing Boote nearby Luc simply nods before turning his attention to villagers around him. "Who does Aldo associate wit? He mentioned havin' 'is own special supplier fer 'is drink, anyone know who that would be?" Seemed to enjoy his libations.
Boote, I'm gonna drag ya into another mystery buddy. As the dwarf cracks his beefy knuckles.
"Fine." Donovan says with a shrug. "Have it your way."
Can't help people who don't want it. Can't help people who don't know they need it. Uncle Garret's words rang around in his head.
He shook off the water and sat down.
"Nothing to do now but wait for something to happen."
Jovanni answers Luc, drawing him near with a wave of his hand before speaking low. "Aldo has been Constable for about 3 years now but he's lived in Piazza since the beginning, I think. As long as we have, anyway. He spent a lot of his time here before my brother disappeared, but he hasn't dared to show his face since he got the town talking that Gregor left Piazza with another woman. Probably expects Azura would flay him with one of those throwing blades she favors... Or Olivia might split him with that whip of hers. If he said he has a supplier though... that would have to be some smuggler or bootlegger." He looks up as he hears Olivia's light step on the stairs.
Her clothes are much more mundane and functional when she returns. Boots, breeches, shirt, vest and a rain proofed hooded cloak. Her quick hands arrange her damp curls into a thick loose braid over her left shoulder and tucks it under her cloak. She heads straight to the bar and asks Jovanni "Uncle, where is Mama? I expected she would be in her rooms... Did Sophia need her help with Magda?"
In a somewhat hushed tone, Jovanni answers her leaning close to the bar. "We asked her to take Marco to the last show at the Theatre. It seemed like it would help to get her mind off things and Sophia could not take him with Magda to worry over. Did you not find Francesca? And where is Gregorio?"
Olivia looks somewhat relieved, but still unsettled as she speaks to her uncle while she turns and seeks out Artegal with her eyes. "Francesca was no where I looked. I checked their home and the shop. She wasn't at the dance... Maybe she will be at the Theatre as well. We can go to meet them..." Olivia cuts off as a deafening crack of thunder shakes the building, rattling the windows in their panes. The rumbling stretches on like a seam ripping and then a muffled silence settles over the building. Some patrons even hold their ears in shock from the thunderclap.
1)Dimitrio Perception:
2)Artegal Perception:
3)Donovan Perception:
4)Ninefingers Perception:
5)Rannveig Perception:
6)Ylva Perception:
7)Nicu Perception:
8)Olivia Perception:
Nicu swiftly lifts his head, eyes bright and alert. "Hear that, friends, a woman calls for help! Let us bring her aid swiftly!" Springing to action, he sprints in the direction of the screams.
Nicu flies into action and finds when he opens the door to the tavern that he rains have ceased but a low fog now obscures the ground. Nicu can see the woman crying out into the night from her doorstep, "Help! Help us, he's been killed! There's a murderer loose!"
The house is only a few doors east from the Tavern.
I do not say anything, but take only a moment to glance in Olivia's direction, and try to show her, by my expression, that I am sorry, then I run toward the woman. I am certain I will be behind Constine. I have my Halberd.
Ninefingers jumps up and instinctively grabs his heavy mace from his side. He dashes as far as his dwarf legs can carry him.