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"Yes, you are correct, Baz, as usual. I would prefer to stick with my fellow Sarenite but perhaps I should put this-" removes the holy symbol circlet on his head "-away for now; it was risky wearing it in the first place. As a Qadiran I am looked down upon enough in this country without being a devotee of the Dawnflower."
"Now, how do we expect to find the Jester? Will it not seem suspicious to just go around town asking everyone we see? Or have we forgone subtlety at this point?"
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Luisila nods as Omrax makes his point about the enemy of our enemy.
“Does anyone have any potential contacts in the town?”
Luisila weighs her options. I’m potentially in enough trouble with VC Valsin as it is. BUT I’ve always hated all the secrecy surrounding the aid the Grand Lodge gives Osirion.
She makes her decision. “VC Valsin does have a contact near Evondemor. I don’t know if this man Khenankantra, a worshipper of Sarenrae, lives in this village or whether he is a potential ally or not. But if he is, I think he may be worthwhile tracking down.”
“Omrax, do you think it’s worthwhile asking one of the locals where we can find this Khenankantra?”
“Does anyone else have a potential faction lead that could help us find the jester? I don’t want to know the details – just a name or location to chase up.”
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Omrax ponders whether he should say something or not...
"Lady Luisila, I do not have any contact that would be willing to help us. In fact, it would not surprise me if he is in league with our jester. I can ask around about a certain slaver named Gaunt Blackfist, reputed to be near Evondemor. Where he is, our foe may also be. "
Omrax goes to look for info from people that may have been victim of said slaver and his whereabouts.
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Baz stifles a yawn. "Perhaps we should look into these contacts in the morn. I'm not sure our path will take us back toward Evondemor at this point of our mission. Let us ask around a bit, then find an inn. Innkeeps are usually notorious gossips, especially after they have your coin in their pocket."
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"Baz, that is not a bad idea. Perhaps a rest can do us good. Looks like it's just coming on morning. If we can get a nice 8-hour rest, we'd be up just about the time a tavern would start filling up with working folk - ripe for investigatin'. I just hope we don't get more of them purple hags comin' at us."
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Luisila raises her eyebrows and exchanges a look with Chelsea. She whispers to the Princess of Pyromania.
“I find men are much easier to manage after they’ve been fed.”
Now to the group. “I suggest a compromise. How about we try to get a lead on the jester – maybe he’s holed up in the town? And then decide whether to chase or rest.”
“There is an alchemical substance called ‘Allnight,’ which I have taken before a big night party… studying. Maybe we could find some in this village, if it comes to that.”
Allnight (75 gp) and Fatigue: Allnight eliminates the effects of fatigue for 8 hours, during which time you take a –2 penalty on all skill checks, and when the duration runs out, you're exhausted.
FATIGUED: A fatigued character can neither run nor charge and takes a –2 penalty to Strength and Dexterity. Doing anything that would normally cause fatigue causes the fatigued character to become exhausted. After 8 hours of complete rest, fatigued characters are no longer fatigued.
Luisila finds no individual named Khenankantra in this village in the hours it takes to gather some info, though a town crier may have seen something, though it's not something he really wants to discuss at all, let alone out in the open, due to a fear of some sort.
Additionally, she's able to find an small shop that may have some of her preferred Anti-sleep supplement, though it won't be open for at least more hours (Including the hour of info-gathering, so 1 more hour.)
Meanwhile, Omrax searches around asking for hours about slavers, finding a downtrodden woman with a newborn. She informs Omrax that her husband didn't return from what was probably a tavern a few weeks ago, and she had heard someone had seen her husband in the company of a man with a black gauntlet and an entourage of brigands and human merchandise.
---
Chelsea asks around for hours for information, asking for people who've seen a jester. Most of the simple workers to whom she speaks are somewhat baffled by the thought of a jester simply walking around town.
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Omrax, to the woman and child.
"Thank you for having the courage to speak to me. Fear not m'lady. The Inheritor will protect those seeking justice. I will find your husband and these brigands. Do you recall or suspect where they were last seen? We will seek them out and put an end to this slavery."
Omrax will share the info with the others once he returns from his research.
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"Men generally don't enjoy eating the sort of things I cook" Chelsea responds in kind while dancing a flame along her fingertips.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
"Maybe the other crew have had more luck? None of the peasants here seem to be willing to talk." Chelsea says to Desmond and Baz, while surveying the mostly deserted streets
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Luisila is impressed. “Oh no, Darling. You’re so lucky having a built in excuse!”
“Being a terrible cook is an asset! It gets you taken out for dinner more often!”
Luisila finds no individual named Khenankantra in this village … though a town crier may have seen something.
“Sweet Heart, it’s all right. We can protect you and your loved ones if you’ll let us. Discretion is my middle name – well, actually it’s Chastity, but that’s kinda embarrassing for someone with Profession (Oldest). But I digress …”
The priestess indicates the holy warrior. “Omrax, can I have a little help please? You see, the Bold One is the Inheritor’s man. His middle names are Strength and Honor. Please let us help you by telling us what you know.”
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After inquiring fruitlessly among the farmers, Desmond grows a bit exasperated. "I guess we really couldn't have expected to learn much from farmers - they've got their own lives to worry about."
As the group wanders around town some more, he spots the tavern.
"Well, it's drinking time somewhere in Golarion. C'mon, let's have a drink. Maybe we can find something out?"
"Better stay outside, Sahrek."
Desmond makes a beeline for the tavern and plops himself down on a stool at the bar. "Gimme a pint of stout, if you have it. Ale works just as well if'n you don't."
He slaps a gold piece on the bar, "And whatever they're having," he waves at Chelsea and Baz.
He nurses the brew, but places another 10 pieces of gold on the bar. "Seen any odd folk coming through here? Specifically, I'm looking for a man named Sabas - a jester. Carrying a big ol' vase with him. Any word?"
The crier takes Omrax and Luisila aside, wary of any prying eyes. "There's... That name sounds Kelish. Only Kelish I done seen 'round here was with... with Blackfist. With him in chains, if you know my meaning. Said he was thinkin' 'bout tradin' some folks as gold for some... some auction. Somethin' about big, magic items. Rare stuff. Stuff from Evondemor. Planned on pulling the rug from under the Disarens an' running the town himself if he... if he got something worthwhile."
---
Desmond finds a place named “The Everflowing Urn,” the closest thing to a moderately-decent place to drink in the area, though it is closed up for the night (though a few stragglers/beggars linger outside on (and in one case, under,) some wooden benches.)
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The priestess gets preachy. “Oh Sweet Heart, we should relish and cherish Kelishites and the Chelish. And worry about big issues, like why don’t Kellids speak Kelish?”
“Where and when is this auction to be held? Where can we find the Blackfist now? How many warriors does he have and how are they armed? Do they use magic?”
When the man has gone. “Good work, Omrax! Factions collaborating instead of competing may just have cracked this one!”
“Shall we go find the others now? I wonder where Desmond might have taken them?”
Luisila thinks back to to the time Desmond went missing for a spell during a bodyguard mission in Tian Xia.
She *snaps* her fingers and grins. “Cleaver and Yashua, three guesses where Desmond might be ... and two of those guesses don’t count!”
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"I've heard that Desmond is capable of such though. I heard he died and was brought back defending his companions over in Tian Xia."
--
Being the merchant of the group, Yushua says, "Well, if the Jester is putting up these items for auction-items which are not legitimately his-perhaps this is the place to go to either accost the man or if all else fails buy the items in the name of the Society in as reasonable price as we can manage. Perhaps we can convince the others attending not to bid up the price and the entire venture will end up costing the Jester."
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"Sir Yushua, I had not heard Sir Desmond had passed beyond the veil and returned. That is the type of potential of which I see in him. Truly a champion of the Inheritor."
• I will guard the honor of my fellows, both in thought
and deed, and I will have faith in them.
After a pause, the paladin continues...
"We must find this auction and end this wild game with the jester. Your plan is as good as any. Maybe we can spread word to the crowd of the jester's deceit on past dealings as well."
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Desmond comes to lying underneath a wooden bench outside of The Everflowing Urn, though some hooligans seem to have altered the spelling to make it say Urine.
"Blech! Why... why does my mouth feel like it's full o' steel wool?" He squints up at the rest of the party.
"What happened? Didja get a lead?" He rubs the back of his head, trying to will himself out of his stupor.
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Varg answers the question of Omrax.
Des is little different than me when it comes t'drinkin'. We do not turn to gods like you after sendin' men to the mud, but we lose ourselves in the drink to deal with the killin'. he does not need anyone's help.
Varg finds his friend under the bench.
There ya go, drinkin' without me! I don't know if I can let this one slide.
He helps him sit on the bench.
We have a lead on the Jester. Shake it off, and let's have at it, friend.
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Desmond blinks a few times and squints up at the barbarian. "Oh...good." He stands up and stretches a bit. "Ugh - the local moonshine? I...I don't recommend it."
The ranger glances around and finds a watering trough. He stumbles over a bit and dunks his head into the water. The cold sting gives his nervous system a kick. Desmond slaps his cheeks a few times as he brings his head up.
"'Right, let's do this."
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“Where and when is this auction to be held? Where can we find the Blackfist now? How many warriors does he have and how are they armed? Do they use magic?”
Without being obvious about it, Luisila will find a convenient moment to sidle over to Desmond.
Out of the corner of her mouth she says. “Hey Des, be on your guard if Baz or Yashua ‘need’ to ‘have a quiet word’ with you about something. Just remember there are plenty of alternatives to the Healing Flame.”
“Have I ever mentioned that the Church of Calistria has cake!”
Luisila’s smile fades and and her expression turns serious. As an ordained priestess, Luisila is reluctant to discuss her own problems with lay people – especially those outside her faith. But this is Desmond.
“I still have the occasional nightmare about a powerful demon I banished from Varisia a while back – and that was before we went to the Worldwound. If you ever need a no-strings chat, you know where I am.”
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“Oh, what a beautiful morning!”
Apart from that Calidamn mosquito that got me on the neck last night, that is.
Yushua is frowning at Luisila when she reappears.
Luisila catches Yushua’s look and walks right up to the man, while loosening the collar on her explorer’s outfit to scratch her itch.
“Bite me.”
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As the party gets ready to go, Desmond looks around the ground and finds a stick. He holds it up for Sahrek to see and throws it down the road.
"Fetch the stick boy! Fetch it!"
Sahrek darts after the stick and brings it back. "Good boy!" Desmond scratches the wolf behind its ears.
"Now, Shake!" Desmond holds out his hand to Sahrek.
Sahrek reaches a paw out and places it in Desmond's waiting palm.
Desmond then starts singing, "If you're blue and you don't know where to go to / Why don't you go where fashion sits,"
"Speak Sahrek."
Sahrek then lets out a series of howls that sound oddly like he was trying to say, "Putting on the Ritz!"
“Where and when is this auction to be held? Where can we find the Blackfist now? How many warriors does he have and how are they armed? Do they use magic?”
The Crier looks around, perpetually nervous, "I... I don't know. Somewhere to the south. Maybe Evondemor. I... I don't... I shouldn't even be saying this out loud. Do you know what Blackfist's men do to people who snitch? I... I honestly don't know."
He scratches the back of his head, "All I know is he's got his cart with two or three horses pulling it, and he headed out the south gates earlier today with a few men and even more human merch."
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“The Town Crier said the Blackfist headed out through the south gates with a few men and a load of slaves in a cart pulled by two or three horses.”
Luisila turns the options over in her mind. “I agree with Cleaver and Chelsea. I vote to push on after the slaver’s caravan, and risk being fatigued. I believe Allnight is available at the Mortar and Pestle for 75 gold if anyone wants any.”
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"If anyone starts getting tired, please let me know."
I'd better keep an eye on Omrax. I don't know if he would realize or admit he was tired.
"I have prepared a couple of Lesser Restoration spells that might be able to help. I also have a scroll containing these spells, but I would ideally like to hold those back for an emergency."
---
The cart and horses prove far easier to track, unlike the wily Jester. Desmond has no trouble focusing on the task and succeeding, until any kind of penalties apply (like Allnight.) Roughly 30 hours of tracking later, the party follows the cart’s tracks down the trail from which you came into the Disaren village (though turns in the opposite direction from where this little adventure began.) The party locates the remains of the cart, though no living inhabitants remain.
The jester’s trail winds through a tangled thicket along the marshy banks of a silt-clogged canal. Foul secretions drip from the withered trees, and broad patches of ground lie barren, as if scorched.
Almost lost in the thorny tangle, structures crumble beside the abandoned canal. Heaped debris—the remains of the pumps and waterwheels that once powered the canal’s locks—clutters their interior. The battered structures now guard a causeway of broken stone and tangled driftwood, a crude dam allowing foot traffic to avoid the swamps that line the silt-filled canal.
Torn body parts lie scattered near the buildings. Bright spatters of blood discolor the bleached stone walls and lie smeared in wide swaths across the ground.
Should one open the book, it is obviously the journal of one Lady Ariesin Bourtze. Her final entry describes the planned summoning of an ancient salamander.
The trail of cart-ness ends, but a new one of humanoid footprints (a majority without shoes), walk in a messy line in the direction the cart was headed. Two of the three horses have unhitched and (as Desmond can tell) are now being ridden with the human caravan. The third horse is half-burned away with acid, still attached to the cart.
---
On the muddy shores of the lake jut parapets of crumbling limestone, their stones missing and walls broken. A massive gateway yawns open, its original doors long since lost to decay, but its vacant expanse is blocked by an improvised barrier of lashed wooden stakes, ten feet high.
Utop towers flanking the entranceway, a pair of women (armed with some light armor and nice longbows on their backs) stand guard. Given that they are doing their job (and I don’t see Invisibility Sphere anywhere on anyone’s spell-lists), they spot the group in the distance, out in the fields. They merely keep bows in hand (as they had already), but hail Desmond. ”Ey! Get movin’ in; auction’s starting in a half!”