As the group approaches the spot circled on the map, the see the sun dipping closer to the horizon. They come up to a large steel gate, open to the public. Inside, a scraggly hedgerow and a thousand storms’ worth of water stains mar Rutowski’s otherwise beautiful townhouse. Well- worn marble steps lead to oaken double doors and an ornate, yellow bell pull.
The group approaches the townhouse and Aod pulls on a cord that rings a series of bells from above. The door creaks open and the party sees a well dressed man in coattails and a powdered wig. Greetings... The man looks the party over before finishing the sentence. ... gentlemen. Sir Rutowski is not seeing any visitors today, especially ones such as yourselves.
The manservant's appearance seems to become less gruff after Quarr's display of respect, however he still stands staunchly in front of the door, his demeanor suggesting that he shall not allow you to pass.
Sir Rutowski is called upon by members of the Ardisian aristocracy dating back twelve generations and these visits are planned weeks in advance. Sir Rutowski does not just see any commoner who comes to his door, wishing for an audience, especially those who would reference such a ghastly name.
The manservant's face stiffens at the harsh words of Haris. Hawk of Absalom? You have no importance here in Ardis. You are no better than the commoners who run the stalls of the market. As I have said, people of importance have to schedule an appointment with Sir Rutowski. Men such as yourselves should not bother will likely not be granted an audience. If you would like to return tomorrow, I will give you my master's decision on your audience for... The manservant looks through a small book hanging from his belt. ... two month and eleven days from now. That is the earliest that Sir Rutowski could possibly see you.
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Beleg rests his left hand on the pommel of his sword and watches the proceedings, deciding that its best not to say anything for the moment. Besides, his eyes seem somewhat glazed over. Damn, I could go for a smoke. Or some pesh. Maybe I'll hop back to that alchemist while they deal with this. . . .
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Taking advantage of Haris' encore performance, Aod steps up uncomfortably close to the coiffed manservant. "Listen up Wig, because I'm only going to say this once. Word is there's a werewolf killin folk in this city, and it seems most of those folk have a history with Vilk. That means Markov might be a target, and if the wolf comes growlin at your door he won't be wearing tails and cheap cologne. He'll eat that book of yours, then probably your face too." Aod lets that sink in a moment before smiling, looking a little wolffish himself. "Now, take us to your master."
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"Such a shame when we are left with little choice but to act like barbarians because manservants forget their place and don't consider the greater needs of their masters and the community! Delay us no longer and allow us to preserve the life of your lord, and maybe the lives of countless others!"
Assist Aod
Intimidate
The manservant snatches his book from the hands of Haris before storming off, muttering I don't get paid enough to deal with ruffians, thieves and murderers. Why couldn't I work for a noble lord such as Sir Bentham? I hear he is a harsh master, but at least his callers are noble and polite... His words trail off as he disappears down a corridor.
The group looks at each other, a bit uncertain of what to do or where to go. Then, they decide to wander the halls until they find Sir Rutowski. After about ten minutes of wandering through the large estate, the group stumbles into a well-lit library. A fine-featured gentleman of mixed Taldan and Ustalavic descent reclines on a fainting couch, though his pointed ears and upturned eyes betray an even more exotic ancestry. He gently lays aside the book in his hand. “You’re clearly not locals, nor are you expected. I know only Pathfinders to be so bold. Your fearless little Society has already taken enough from me. Leave or I will call the guards.”
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Aod looks from Rutowski to Haris, considering the suggestion of giving these two a private room to negotiate terms. But since diplomacy is already in progress...
"I'm sure whatever you blame the Society for lies on the shoulders of Vilk. We're here to bring him in, dead or alive. Whatever history you've got with him, I'm pretty sure doesn't justify the former. Talk to us and maybe we can set some of this right."
Haris senses that he is feeling a bit peckish and Rutowski has a mighty fine looking cheese plate sitting next to him. The good pieces look picked over, however.
As Takahiro tries to diplomatically solve this impasse with the help of his fellow Pathfinders, everyone can see Rutowski's face become less harsh.
Rutowski sighs and retakes his seat, gesturing to the other overstuffed chairs and divans that fill the room. “Forgive me. I sometimes forget that it was Ardis’s machinations that took my beloved away from me, and not the Pathfinder Society itself. I shall try to help you however I can.”
Rutowski sees Haris' hunger and pushes the cheese plate across the table, clearly finished with the slices of cheddar and gouda, as well as the few pear and apple wedges left remaining.
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Haris was used to getting bouquets of flowers from dames and trollops at the show; getting a bouquet of smelly cheese from a fine-gentleman was appreciation and motive all the same. So he sits backs and figures a little fermented curd will do the trick, then proceeds to enjoy the vending of some cheesy comestibles.
Rutowski shifts a bit uncomfortably in his chair. “Politics. Vilk turned a daughter of the Moulot family into a Pathfinder, and then she died on one of those damnable adventures of hers. Graverobbing is a crime in Ustalav, but banishment is a sentence reserved for those with enemies.”
Rutowski grows more agitated as he thinks back on the past. “The Mauler attacks the enemies' of Vilk. My love would have no desire to hurt the innocents of Ardis. There are a few poor souls left in Ardis I’m sure Vonran bears a grudge toward, though the worst offenders moved on decades ago to Caliphas. Of all his remaining accusers, Judge Cevianna Pradowca is the worst. She bore a grudge against Vonran for refusing to wed her and so turned her courtroom into a weapon against him. She’s the one who handed down his banishment. I wager he’ll hunt her next.”
None of his other enemies have earned as much of the exile of Vilk. I am positive that that heinous woman is the next target. She deserves to feel the pain of having everything taken from her, including her life.
“He was here, how'd you guess? Not five days ago he stood where you are now, ranting and raving about Judge Pradowca and her lofty position. He was… so different from the Vonran I loved. So cold—hate just roiling off of him. Help him. Please.” Rutowski's eyes start to go glassy as he reaches the end of his plea.
He stands and walks slowly to the window, staring off into a darkening Ardis, clearly thinking of other things. Likely a better time.
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Quarr meanwhile had been intently looking upon the books on the shelf, catching pieces of the conversation here and there as Takahiro conversed with the man. Not seeing anything of real interest he places the dusty book back on the shelf as he turns back to the mission at hand
Upon hearing about the judge Quarr looks up at the man as he gazes into the window. We will do our best to cure him and make sure that no harm comes to him if possible He says before leaving the mansion to head towards where the judge is located.