The Rise of the Runelords

Game Master DEWN MOU'TAIN

Crusk looks around the Cathedral. He notices the stained glass, and the painting around it. The Cathedral was impressive, along with it's organ. What ever Zel has to discuss with Father Zantus is nothing of his concern. he explored that Cathedral a bit.

"Hmm, very clean."

Yeda shrugs at Corrin's remarks. She looks around at the others.

So... do we all want to take shifts on this? One or two of us at a time.

She's really wishing she had a restored Mar'du right now for effect.

Loxley tried not to flinch at Crusk's use of such formalities. She simply gave the bard a small nod and moved to follow the Lord Mayor as she escorted Daelk.

Her mind did indeed wonder just what could be so important about this particular lost soul. Spirits, ghosts and the undead wandered the land and the dark places from time to time without world shattering consequences… well, as far as she could imagine.

At the manor house she waited with the others. When Belven came to them Loxley frowned.
”It hardly seems like the best place, but I suppose I can see some reasons to use the campsite.”
She agreed with Corrin, but conceded to the Mayor’s decision.
”Shifts would be sensible. We can’t be sure how long we will need to watch over him.”
Loxley nodded as Yeda.

Father Zantus avoids Shanny the seamstress, bobbing his head in a quick greeting before moving on.
Hi. yes hello Shanny! No, find me later! he turns his attention back to Zeldana. What happened? It's not like as if they just suddenly stopped talking to you. Something had to have happened...

Belven leads you to the side of the manor. And, true to his word, stepping into the thicket of trees and brush, the background hum of Sandpoint's contribution to civilization drops away. A white tent stands erected, with a cot covered by a blanket. a Stool and a water basin and pitcher sit upon it. an unlit lamp hangs off the center point, awaiting the darkness that is soon to descend.
The lord mayor helps the man into the cot, where he quickly calms down and falls asleep.
Now, Lady Kendra says with a tone of authority, what's this nonsense of agents of gods looking for this man?

"I'll meet you at the Cathedral later," Crusk says. "I happen to know where you are going. I see a bagpipes vendor over across the street."

Crusk turns around, checks for any carriages or palanquins coming down the street. He then goes across to the vendor on the opposite side of the street. Looking around, he begins to say . . .

"Do you have any good bagpipes for sale?" he asks.

Zeldana waved to Crusk in acknowledgement of his words before she answered Zantus. "If I knew the answer to that question, I would likely know why they have turned away. The last fate I divined was Loxley's fate. She was having some issues and I read her cards... since then they have been silent. I cannot bring my spells forth from them nor ask guidance. I remember when we came to speak with you, when Sazzat was still with us, he told you about the information Norgorber gave him in exchange for his finger... I told him then my magic was gone... he was told that he had to kill the witch. I do not need to remind you, I am the only witch in Sandpoint. Or... I was, I do not know if you can call me a true witch any longer given my magic is gone." She commented as she scratched the side of her head. "Corrin was assaulted soon after, and then Jorn was killed. Loxley is dealing with her issues, Corrin has suffered enough, and Yeda had her weapon smashed to pieces. They have more important issues happening at the moment, thus I have not bother them with this." Zeldana muttered on as she thought back. It was hard to believe it was only two weeks ago. "It does not matter, there are more important issues at hand. We should focus on those." She admitted, waving off the matter. "We do not have time for this, we must focus upon the greater issue. Sandpoint is what matters." Zeldana stated. Though she did not say it, the message was fairly clear. Zeldana did not believe her problem to be of import. At least not with everything else going on.

Gunnar breathes relaxed as the man goes to sleep. Then the mayor comes ask about specifics. He just says "Well, the short version is that he may or may not be a person of interest for the cult of Urgathoa. This fact could also bring the attention from the cult of Pharasma."

He scratches his chin and says "If Zeldana's interpretation is correct, they will go to great lengths to lay hands on him. The quicker we can resolve this situation, the better."

as everyone breaks away, Father Zantus and Zeldana walking one way, everyone else following Daelk, you stand still for a moment, looking around.
and yet, fate seems to be upon your side.
a slight nudge at your elbow causes you to turn.
you turn around and see a man with brown hair, trimmed short to the scalp, with soft brown eyes and slightly tanned skin. A narrow, equally short beard runs in a precise line from temple to the chin, framing a strong chin. Upon his body he wears silk robes, a fashion youre not sure where, but your sure its found in the south... somewhere.
make a knowledge geography check to determine where he is from
a flashing smile stretches across his face, warm and friendly.
Oh! hi there! i apologize! i- i- he looks you up and down, taking you in from head to toe. I couldnt help but overhear you and your companions... well, more specifically you. Youre looking for bagpipes?
without waiting for an answer, he reaches out and tugs your sleeve. I can show you the way.
you find yourself being pulled along through the small village of 400 dirt packed streets.
I- again i apologize. I was rude. I- he lets go of your sleeve, but he keeps walking.
boy, i am so embarrased to ask this. Sure, i can brew a potion with the best in nex or Katapesh, but this! he waves his hand broadly in the direction that the rest of the group walked away with Daelk. i- well, The Lady Loxley, do you know? is she by chance, available?
he clicks his tongue in exasperation Ack, a woman like that. a beauty like hers! of course she would have a suitor.
He spins as he walks, side stepping as he looks at you with is large puppy dog eyes.
Oh say it isnt so! good si!r! i beg you! please, let me know! As her personal servant, i can only assume that you would know such about her
he stumbles a couple steps, tripping over a rock.
Of course! of course! payment his hand flashes into a hidden fold of his robes. he withdraws a small pouch where the soft clink of coins ring out. Twould be shameful to not at least offer payment to soften your tongue upon your Lady's relationship status. twould not be best to sullen your homage to your Mistress.

Father zantus grunts louldy. Nasty business that. Dealing with the Spiders of Norgorber. always literal when asked, yet complete with double and triple meanings with their words. he wags a finger at Zeldana. Never trust the first message one of those messengers provides.
he slows to a stop. with gentle hands, he turns Zeldana to face him fully. he stares deep into her mismatched eyes.
Now, listen here young lady. he begins Your problems are just as important as your companions. You do your friends a great service by attempting to help them, but- he gives a gentle shake while a broad, soft smile fills his face. Your mind flows back for a moment to being only 7 years old, and father zantus doing the same thing after one of the other Sandpoint youth threw a mudpie at you. His tone was equally kind back then, and the shaking stilled the tears and made mirth flow freely from your lips back then.
you do your friends a disservice by not talking to them he emphasises each word by twisting you back and forth in the exaggerated manner. Just as you help them, let them help you. he stops twisting you. Anytime is the time to seek them out. But now, especially.
he pulls you close and wraps his arms around you, squeezing you in his trademark "feel good" hugs. There are very few that remain angry or upset after one of Father Zantus' hugs.
I apologize. we must hurry. As we walk, i shall offer a prayer to Desna, one that will help you find strength in yourself, and strength in your conviction to seek help from your friends.
he lets go, smiles once more, and begins to walk to the cathedral

The lord Mayor purses her lips and spits. The lady of despair. nasty stuff. she looks around
Where is father zantus? if this is such a dire threat to Golarian, why isnt father zantus here? he would be the greatest agent- her face brightens. I need to get my cousin! he will be of great help! without waiting for word, the Lord mayor turns and hurries off.
the sound of steady snoring fills the area.

GM: make a knowledge geography check to determine where he is from
Bardic Lore check: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18

I've got Knowledge Navigation, so I'll use my bardic knowledge check

"Sorry, you will have to compete for the Lady Loxley," Crusk laughs. "I've been with the Lady Loxley for longer than you. She has no more than twenty other suitors, all hoping to wed the lady. And she has no ladies-in-waiting, or a court, or liege. I'm not her Paramour, and by the looks of you, if you want to be her Paramour, then I suggest changing into something suitable."

Crusk pulls out a scroll on men's fashion. "This is what's all the rage in Sandpoint."

"we ought to just cut a finger off nowjust in case." He grumbled watching the mayor scamper off. To think there was a moment in time he thought she was wise and intelligent and. . . . He cocked his head as if waiting to hear something. No whispers about death or breeding or anything.

He didnt know whether to be pleased or worried.
"Remind me Yeda to track that Anx fellow down and get the secret of hte enchantment for the protection mask. I really dont want to start losing one day and .... well..."

Yeda nods her head vigorously at Corrin's suggestion.

If we'd just cut it off at the beginning this day would have been so much simpler.

She doesn't even spare the subject of their suggestions a glance.

Right, Anx. So many loose ends.

Zeldana's violet eyes was muted. It use to be a vibrant bright violet star, much like her mother's violet eyes swam with starry gleams, but no longer was Zeldana's bright. "Talking does not seem to be of use. Given the fact my words are heard but carry no weight." Zeldana pointed out as she followed after Zantus. "No, that is not completely true." Zeldana corrects herself, her tone is almost completely emotionless. It was not anger or sadness... it was emotionless. It is more flat and logical and had it not been for the fact he was walking beside her he would have been forgiven for thinking this was someone else speaking. "Corrin heard, he just could not offer aid. Loxley made inquires to figure it out better, but she too had nothing to offer once she was answered. Yeda spoke not at all, nor did Crusk. Gunnar spoke, in fact he was the one I spoke the most with... and yet he gave the greatest insults. Never once answering a single question I asked, and when I pointed out he was not listening to what I had to say only hearing the words, that he did not even answer a single question, he stopped." She mused over the happenings in the room. The fact no one really reacted to what she had said at first. "You did not even react, nor answer the last question I posed to you, the whole time until you tried to refute my knowledge. Only to realize I was correct." She pointed out to him as she haunted his steps. "I did not know that one could be spoke to yet be ignored... To be in a room of people, a room of thought friends, and yet..." Zeldana stopped herself before she allowed herself to go into feelings. Her emotions were of no good to anyone at the moment. 'Logic," She reminded herself. 'that is the only thing you have of value... The only thing you can offer.' She thought as she tapped her forehead to remind herself to keep that side chained away. "But I should have. The stargazer is the fool after all. I shall not make that mistake again, I would not wish to repeat that with how little time we have." Zeldana stated as she sped up to overtake Zantus, turning her attention to the more important matter at hand. "Would you like me to remain outside the bounds of the cathedral?" She inquired.

Youre pretty sure that the manner of this man's dress, the robes he wears, are from the Inner Sea region. which country, you are not sure.

The man takes the scroll from your hands, a look of confusion on his face. I- sandpoint fashion? he cracks the scroll open, looking at it briefly. Sir, you misunderstand me. I live here in sandpoint. I need no pointers on what is fashionable here in sandpoint. he looks at you with a critical eye. Though, i do say, your presentation could use an upgrade. Destitute beggar so went out of fashion here five years ago. and even 15 years before in Egorian.
He drops the scroll to the ground. And yet, the lady Loxley, she has suitors? and yet has no ladies in waiting? No court? his eyes suddenly squint to narrow slants, the orbs dart back and forth as the man casts his gaze around. he steps up close. Is- is she on vacation? taking a break from her kingdom's stressors? he focuses his gaze on you. Are you and your friends her personal bodyguards?

Daelk snores softly, his groans of pain amidst his snores beginning to subside.
you know... it is just you guys there with a sleeping Daelk.... no one would be the wiser...

Father Zantus smirks. welcome to adulthood. he smacks your shoulder one more time and then begins to walk towards the cathedral. He remains silent in his thoughts, his gaze far off as he walks.
The cathedral towers high over the town of Sandpoint, a sign of civilization upon the savage frontier.
Father Zantus guides you around towards the back of the church, and pauses before entering through the rear wall of the church. Remain outside the bounds of the cathedral? he snorts I was going to say that youre not a fool, but talk like that does indeed make you sound like a fool. He opens the door and leads you into, and through the church, and out the back.
The man pauses, and looks through the boneyard of Sandpoint.
Ah! there he is! Zantus points at a large bundle of rags that moves with an odd gait through the carefully manicured lawn of the graveyard.
There's Orlin. he looks at you, and his familiar stern visage fills his face. Now, brace yourself child. Orlin is a man who has been cursed by the gods. Do not disrespect him by recoiling in fear.
ORLIN! Father zantus calls out to the man
The head priest of the Sandpoint Cathedral leads you through the hallowed grounds towards the mound of clothes that stands patiently awaiting your arrival.
as you walk, you inspect someone "who has been cursed by gods".
Brilliant white robes cloth the one called Orlin. He stands, leaning heavily upon a thick staff, clutched in a fist. The hood of the robes lays low over his brow, shading his eyes. His shoulder is pulled up, as if he is shrugging.
You get closer, and about 15 feet away, realization of what youre looking at dawns upon you!
his hand that grips the heavy staff. Not five fingers, but three. Three thick stubs devoid of nails, and a thumb that is twisted wrong. instead of wrapping around from the front as normal hands would, this thumb wraps behind, a long multi jointed appendage that is out of place. His other arm lifts up and waves in the air. only, this "hand" has no fingers. instead a strange clump of stubs that are a pale imitation to what should have been fingers.
and that is just the start.
Orlin lifts his head, and you see not two, but three eyes set upon the mans skull. Two in the "normal" location upon the face, and a third set between, bisecting the face perfectly. They blink, not in unison, but one after another after another, from right to left.
The man's mouth hangs open, and an unnaturally long tongue hangs wetly out of the man's mouth. It twists and twirls idly in the air as globs of saliva streams out of the hanging mouth. THe mouth itself looks as though it is from a snakes body, unhinged from skull to swallow a large meal.
The robes hide more strange oddities from identification. the shoulder shrug is surely a hump upon the man's back. perhaps there is more to this man.
you look down, and see a large dirty stump instead of a foot. Stained green from the grass, it seems to pulsate. His other leg is more like a snakes body, long and thick yet without form.
Ahh, Fhab'r 'an'us! the mouth moves, globs of spit flowing out of the mishappen orifice. 'n whob dis? Mah 'ance pa'tne'? A strange trill, half bird whistle, half "sipping soup from bowl" sound comes from the cursed man. His whole body shakes. It takes you a moment to realize that he is laughing.
Orlin. That is a good joke. But alas, we have no time for jokes. The child- he pauses and looks critically at you the Lady here has need of your knowledge, and we best be quick about it. Zeldana, ask him

Gunnar immediately says "I'm sorry, but this is not ok. I'm all for skipping the rules to do good, but this is just wrong. If you can convince him while the mayor is gone, great, but not like this."

The cleric will stay with Daelk to take care of him in case he wakes up.

Zeldana gave a slightly confused look when he said welcome to being an adult, as she could not see what being of majority had to do with people's incompetence or inability to answer a single question, but said nothing more on it. As honestly, she was starting to expect they did not know the answer and did not wish to look more incompetent. "You are allowed to say I do not know. It is a valid answer." Zeldana stated bluntly as he opened the door for her. "Well then your perception of me is balanced is it not?" She inquired, though really it sounded more rhetorical, as she now had faith in anyone to ever answer her questions.

Outwardly, Zeldana hardly reacted to seeing Orlin. Her golden eye softened with empathy when she saw him form. If it was not for places like the church many in Orlin's condition and status would be dead. The common folk relied on their ability to work, so a child that could not work eventually would be a hindrance, and then nobility required perfection or at least normality. Her heart ached as she realized how hard Olrin's life had to of been, and it was lightened when she heard his joke. "Hello Orlin, I am Zeldana Emraeal Luminita Dardlara Anca Nordlara Amaria, but everyone just calls me Zel." She stated while offering a small bow to Orlin. "We are seeking a body from the founding of Sandpoint. One Daelk Nusnar the third. Father Zantus has suggested we make an inquiry to you, and that you may know roughly where we might find this body." She explained.

The man takes the scroll from your hands, a look of confusion on his face. I- sandpoint fashion? he cracks the scroll open, looking at it briefly. Sir, you misunderstand me. I live here in sandpoint. I need no pointers on what is fashionable here in sandpoint. he looks at you with a critical eye. Though, i do say, your presentation could use an upgrade. Destitute beggar so went out of fashion here five years ago. and even 15 years before in Egorian.

He drops the scroll to the ground. And yet, the lady Loxley, she has suitors? and yet has no ladies in waiting? No court? his eyes suddenly squint to narrow slants, the orbs dart back and forth as the man casts his gaze around. he steps up close. Is- is she on vacation? taking a break from her kingdom's stressors? he focuses his gaze on you. Are you and your friends her personal bodyguards?

"Alright, fine. We will both go to the fashion store and pick up something gaudy," Crusk said. He was getting annoyed with this . . . foreigner that lived in Sandpoint.

"We are her friends," Crusk begins. "We've stood by each other during battles. We are not the Lady's personal bodyguards. By the way, will you tell me your name? I'm Crusk Dervanrek. Son of an orc and a human. Product of rape, or so my mother told me."

Crusk sighed, "After I help you woo the Lady, you will help me find some bagpipes? First, let us get some new clothes."

Crusk was already annoyed with this person. But since this . . . foreigner . . . was so adamantly enamored with Loxley, he had no choice but to help the foreigner woo the lady. He wanted to feel that the foreigner had competition with others in being a suitor. Crusk knew he was too ugly to both humans and orcs to get a lover from either race. Crusk knew if he was going to get a lover, he had to buy one from Cheliax.

Ack! forgive me good sir. my name is Alver Podiker. Pleased to meet you sir. he bows deeply, sweeping his robes wide.
a product of rape! how dreadful.... though i wonder which way it was... he trails off, frowning, looking at and through Crusk.
he shakes his head. Oh yes! the Bagpipes! Come come! let us go to The Feathered Serpent. VorVashili runs the place. bit of an eccentric. Random collection of items. If anyone in town has the pipe of bags to which you would blow from, he would have it
The man leads you to the south side of town spot 44 on the map
He points at the building THere it is, Crusk son of a raped. he steps close Id rather not go in there. Vorvashili doesnt take to kindly to me since the last time i was in there. bit of a misunderstanding of an items value. Says i cheated him. Hardly. he shakes his head and frowns in a dismissive fashion. But, before we depart- no, it can wait. Come find me at my shop, the pillbugs pantry
Alvin bows once again and turns away.

Orlin trills loudly! Em! Em! Em! his mishappen mouth spills out saliva in a long stream. Em! Em! it takes you a moment to learn he is calling you by the first syllable of your second name.... perhaps it is the only part of your name that he can easily pronounce?
Orlin. how about you use your gem to communicate with us? Father Zantus asks
Orlin shakes his head, his tongue flapping and slapping his face.
His eyes blink, right, middle, left.
'ain! 'ain! 'ain! Orlin croaks
father zantus nods ahh. still hurting from last time you used it?
Orlin's attempt at rocking his head involves bowing his upper body in rapid fashion.
Yes yes! 'ain!
Alright Orlin. Im sorry Father zantus holds out a hand and gently lays it upon Orlin. His eyes close, and a serene smile fills the older man's face.
Orlin's bobbing slows to stillness, his three eyes half closing. a soft gasp escapes his deformed mouth.
THere. Feel better? Zantus asks with fatherly concern.
Orlin nods.
Orlin, Daelk? Zantus urges
A trilling chirp fills the air! the staff slams into the grass in rapid succession.
'ollo' me! the deformed man stumps slowly in a circle, taking his time to ensure he doesnt fall over.
slowly, oh so slowly given the hurried nature of the terrible emergency that has currently fallen upon Sandpoint and her unaware citizens, slowly he moves, leading the both of you through the graveyard.
he heads towards the short wall that borders the cemetary and Sandpoint proper from the wilds beyond. as you step closer to the barrier, the gravestones and dates show older and older dates.
He leads you back to a single stone slab. Crudely carved are the letters upon this grave stone.
Daelk Nusnar
died 4668

a groan comes from the sleeping man
ahhhhh my head daelk moans Why does it hurt so badly he rolls around on the cot.
he pauses, removing the hands that had started to clutch at his skull where am i? he sits up, but shuts his eyes in pain oof. that hurts. what am i doing here? I need a drink. Someone get me a drink please

Gunnar approaches the man and says "Here, I am Gunnar, a follower of Desna. I'll provide you with some healing. You hit your head. What's the last thing you remember?"

Channel Positive Energy: 3d6 ⇒ (2, 5, 5) = 12

Ack! forgive me good sir. my name is Alver Podiker. Pleased to meet you sir. he bows deeply, sweeping his robes wide.

a product of rape! how dreadful.... though i wonder which way it was... he trails off, frowning, looking at and through Crusk.
he shakes his head. Oh yes! the Bagpipes! Come come! let us go to The Feathered Serpent. VorVashili runs the place. bit of an eccentric. Random collection of items. If anyone in town has the pipe of bags to which you would blow from, he would have it
The man leads you to the south side of town spot 44 on the map
He points at the building THere it is, Crusk son of a raped. he steps close Id rather not go in there. Vorvashili doesnt take to kindly to me since the last time i was in there. bit of a misunderstanding of an items value. Says i cheated him. Hardly. he shakes his head and frowns in a dismissive fashion. But, before we depart- no, it can wait. Come find me at my shop, the pillbugs pantry
Alvin bows once again and turns away.

Crusk wondered about this. He's committed to help Alver woo Loxley. Now he's at the Feathered Serpent. VorVashili, or whomever he was, is supposed to have bagpipes. After he finds his bagpipes, he had no choice but to follow his word.

I hope Loxley would rebuff this guy, he thought. Alver didn't really seem to be Loxley's type. Based on their adventures together, Loxley wouldn't want a man like Alver. That's it, after he is rejected three times, I won't have to help him.

Crusk walked into the Feathered Serpent. "Excuse me, I'm looking for a Vorashili?"

"Em it is." Zeldana said with a graceful nod. She didn't mind in the slightest honestly. Since she had for almost all her life had some form of nickname of everyone. Even members of her own family. Thus if it was easy for him, she did not mind at all.

A look of concern swept over her fact when she noticed Orlin was in pain, but when Zantus was able to calm him and allow him to settled she returned to her neutral state. Since he was as well as he could be, and there was not actually anything she could due in this moment.

Zeldana followed after Orlin, and upon finding the site she knelt down and rubbed her thumb over the letters of the grave stone. "Thank you Orlin, this means a great deal." She said as she looked back at him to give a thankful nod. "Zantus was correct in his advice." She stated. "Thank you for being the keeper of those none think of any longer. It is oft a lonely job, and rarely is it appreciated, but you are a member of value Orlin." Zeldana looked back down to the stone as she looked it over once more before standing.

"I shall begin Zantus, will you be able to resort the body this day?" She inquired pointedly, her eyes fixed upon him. The violet cold and distant, while the golden flickered softly like an ember candle. Yet there was no way to shake the feeling in the air. Disappointment, being the largest one, but it was surrounded by others. Little respect, was second. Then small than them both, as if it was actively being suppressed, was sorrow.

Daelk grunts. Remember? I dont know.... The tall warrior woman said something to me. dont remember that. I remember discussing my finger... bit crass of me to act that way. Never should have let myself get that mad at the witch. Uggg... a big mess it is. Would it hurt, you guys taking my finger?

You step into the stout building set on the river front. the bell rings as you walk in, and the thick scent of incense, spice and, oddly enough, dust.
The door closes behind you, and you feel cramped. display cases and shelves cover every square foot of the small shop. Statues large and small, trinkets, jewelry, and other items lay out upon the cases and shelves, available for inspection.
Hello! Hello! yes hello! a stout man steps forward, wiping at the corner of his lips.
Long red hair flows freely over his shoulders, a start contrast to his sun kissed skin and blazing blue eyes.
Hello there! I am Vorvashali, owner of this establishment. How can i be of assistance to you?

Orlin trills loudly in glee. he stomps his good foot in time with his staff! eee eee he chirps happily.
father zantus nods. Indeed. I have the rod and I am capable of casting the resurrection spell stored within it. Soon as we dig up- Ahhhh Pharasma's left thread! Youre momentarily shocked by the priests sudden curse. No. Well, maybe. I have to conduct certain rites for the resting to ensure that the sleeping stay sleeping in eternal slumber. I can get started on this right away. he takes a couple steps and then stops. Orlin, Prep the land before Daelk's tombstone. Retrieve the silver chalice and the Oil of Calming. Zeldana, youre welcome to stay and observe, but please do not interrupt.

"For the breifest of moments before you were healed. but nevermind that. we are working on other options i believe the mayor has plans or something.

"I meant to restore the body to actually look like a body instead of just bones. Unless your goal is to give Daelk even more issues than he has already?" She inquired as she crossed her arms and raised a brow. However after a moment of taking in his words she had a look of confusion wash over her face. Then she signed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Zantus, you seems to have completely missed the process. The spell must be case over Jorn's body, with Daelk's body on standby to draw his soul into it when Jorn's soul kicks it out. Casting it upon Daelk's body would do nothing as the soul is not in the boneyard." Zeldana slowly explained, and the paused a moment for him to take in the words she just said. "Though luckily for us it would not waste the spell, it would not work." Shen then mentioned normally with a small shrug.

'How is it a 22 year old half-elf more knowledgeable than two clerics of Desna?' Zeldana wondered to herself. This had swiftly become a complete disaster. No worse than that. It was a disaster long before it go to this point.

Gunnar says "There's magic to make you not feel the pain. Still, as Corrin here says, other options are being discussed. You don't have to worry, you're safe and in good hands. For now, rest. Are you hungry? I can have some food brought over."

He then continues "I believe you are a builder, correct? Can you tell me a bit about your work?"

You step into the stout building set on the river front. the bell rings as you walk in, and the thick scent of incense, spice and, oddly enough, dust.

The door closes behind you, and you feel cramped. display cases and shelves cover every square foot of the small shop. Statues large and small, trinkets, jewelry, and other items lay out upon the cases and shelves, available for inspection.
Hello! Hello! yes hello! a stout man steps forward, wiping at the corner of his lips.
Long red hair flows freely over his shoulders, a start contrast to his sun kissed skin and blazing blue eyes.
Hello there! I am Vorvashali, owner of this establishment. How can i be of assistance to you?

Crusk cracks a smile. "I'm was told you had some bagpipes for sale," Crusk responds. "I want to learn to play the bagpipes. Interestingly enough, I am Crusk Dervanrek. Conquerer of many loose girls."

Crusk looks around. "Do you have any flowers? I'm helping someone to woo a very interesting lady."

Father zantus squints at you. more issues? he scratches his chin. im not following you

Daelk nods. Stonemason, 1st tier. Can cut stone faster than dwarves... well, on a good day i can. Havent had many of those, not since... his hands ball up into fists, and he lowers his head. Not since i killed brother Calder.
he begins to cry.

Bagpipes? Vorvashali asks in surprise. Bagpipes huh? hmmmm... i do suppose i do. he sweeps around and leads you to the back corner of the showroom.
Upon a glass shelf sits a bag with 5 fluted rods sticking out of it. four of them have ivory caps, while another one hangs low, made of a strange wood. The bag itself looks worn and used. stitch marks made of what looks like golden thread run the length of the bag. running parallel along the seam upon both sides are runes.
Strange thing. I tried it out. couldnt get it to work... I blew on it and blew on it, and yet, no sound came out.
He shrugs. I do have an interested party in it coming up from magnimar with next weeks tidal... Oh bless me! you asked about flowers. A friend who is trying to woo a lady. Yes! those i have!
he spins around and disappears behind a long counter. He lifts up a bouquet of summer flowers and sets it on the glass countertop.
flowers to woo... though, be careful. I hear that these flowers could be a bit too good... he frowns, looking at them. although... hmm, i dont know. Im not sure.. they did cost me a dear penny. and I could get something else from my friend in trade. Oh i hate to part with it.

"This poor man's soul, is in a body that is not his own, which has to be uncomfortable. He went crazy at being told there might even be a possibility that he is a doubleganger and slammed his head into a wall. He then regained some form of his memory, which is decades old. Assuming he has not remembered anything else mind you, we are about to show up before this man, with his body... can you truly not fathom the damage that will do to this man's mind?" Zeldana inquired as she placed her hands upon her hips. "Like going to the apothecary is required, so too is this, but it will not be a pleasant time for this soul. If we show up with a pile of bones and inform Daelk that we are going to put him back into his body, and all he sees is the bones, he may have another crazed attack. We do not know how much damage has been done to that poor soul, nor do we have a way of knowing, thus moving forward we must keep in mind the possible damage we may do." Zeldana firmly stated, even in her current mental turmoil her empathic nature remained. "So please, do not cause more issues for this poor soul."

Bagpipes? Vorvashali asks in surprise. Bagpipes huh? hmmmm... i do suppose i do. he sweeps around and leads you to the back corner of the showroom.

Upon a glass shelf sits a bag with 5 fluted rods sticking out of it. four of them have ivory caps, while another one hangs low, made of a strange wood. The bag itself looks worn and used. stitch marks made of what looks like golden thread run the length of the bag. running parallel along the seam upon both sides are runes.
Strange thing. I tried it out. couldnt get it to work... I blew on it and blew on it, and yet, no sound came out.
He shrugs. I do have an interested party in it coming up from magnimar with next weeks tidal... Oh bless me! you asked about flowers. A friend who is trying to woo a lady. Yes! those i have!
he spins around and disappears behind a long counter. He lifts up a bouquet of summer flowers and sets it on the glass countertop.
flowers to woo... though, be careful. I hear that these flowers could be a bit too good... he frowns, looking at them. although... hmm, i dont know. Im not sure.. they did cost me a dear penny. and I could get something else from my friend in trade. Oh i hate to part with it.

Crusk checked his money purse. Fifty gold. He then checked his letter of Credit. He might have enough.

"How much for the bagpipes?" he asks. Crusk then looked at the flowers. "Are they enchanted?"

Gunnar instantly feels the man's pain. He could never imagine how it must feel to be responsible for taking the life of a friend. He puts his arm around Daelk in Jorn's body and says "Easy... I'm so sorry this has happened. But you know something? As a true Desnan, Calder is now in her realm. You mustn't worry for him, he's now in the Sevenfold Cynosure. It's a faraway palace, and everyone who has visited it describes it as a perfect dream."

Smiling, he says "Now, that doesn't sound so bad, does it? Now it's your turn to find some peace. It happened, yes. But you didn't mean it to happen. Now it's time to forgive yourself."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (17) + 10 = 27

Yeda lets the cleric play the listening ear. Her own people certainly emphasized health of spirit and soul, and so she understood and appreciated the effort. But she wasn't completely accepting everything Daelk said just yet...

Did he mean for it to happen?

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (7) + 0 = 7

Daelk drops his hands and looks at Gunnar. didnt mean it to happen??!?!?! he groans sardonically.
How can a murderer find forgiveness in his own actions? he moans, slipping off the cot and onto the ground. I remember it... he was, he was standing there. berating me. Insulting my work.
his voice goes monotone as his gaze loses focus, looking more backwards in time than at what is in front of him. He insulted my work. I built that wall. it was strong. But, the grout that had been mixed, it was poor. I didnt pour it though. that was Ashel. Ashel poured it. I- i trusted him. Trusted him to pour it right. And it did look right. the mixture, the texture. it, unfortunately, it didnt reveal itself until dried. It's the Lime. was mixed with sand. made the grout faulty. I- i had started to repair it, but brother calder! he daelk lifts his hands and brings them before him He just started yelling and yelling. telling me that the gods had damned my hands! that my stonework was slipshod! mine! I built the hall of lords in magnimar! my stones! my initialts, carved onto hundreds of stone blocks, laid out precisely! each layer, block by block, perfect! dwarfs commented on my skill! and to have some- some- half baked backwater cleric to criticize my work?? By a man who grew his largesse off of his flock?! He tone grows more and more heated, his body twitching as his skin flushes red. He sold slaves! Farmers who held debts to him in the magnimar hinterlands. he sold them off to chelaxian slavers. to orcs. He fetched high prices for the women too, those he sold to orc slavers.
he suddenly grows calm, his hands drop. I- killed that man. I smashed his skull in... and then i toppled the stone wall to make it look like an accident. he looks up at Gunnar, at Yeda.
I remember now. all of it. The death blow, the wall destruction. the funeral... the drinking. I even remember the long sleep, the time where nothing existed. he waves his hand down at himself. i remember being awoken from the long sleep, the warm light that brought me back. into this- this strange body. he looks around. Its been 40 years since my slumber... i- i deserve death. for the killing of Brother Calder, for the death of Ashel. he sighs. I understand now what that pretty half elf was trying to say. he stands up, stretching, his face growing relaxed. This isnt my body. And it is wrong for me to want to continue to use it at the expense of another man's soul. He looks at yeda. Extend the justice of sandpoint upon me, warrioress. I deserve it, and recognize it.

no, i couldnt. well, perhaps i could. he looks you up and down. No, i dont think my friend will show much interest in this. 125 gold and it's yours. he follows it up with a shrug. I do not know if they are enchanted.
feel free to make an appraise or diplomacy roll to begin haggling prices

father zantus nods. Ah, i see what you are saying now. yes, i suppose it would bring a bit of a shock to the man if he were to see a pile of bones before his death and revival. especially if he doesnt fully understand what exactly happens with a Resurrection spell.
he humms a soft tune.... hmmmm... let's see here....
father zantus knowl arcana: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (11) + 12 = 23
hmmmm... How much do you remember from your arcane learnings with Anx?

"A great deal. The arcane arts have always been a natural gift to the Amaria line. We have had forty-eight generations of witches, I mark the forty-ninth... could not even make it to an even fifty aparently." Zeldana answered with a sigh. "What are you wanting to know about?" She inquired.

I am pre-rolling Kn:Arcana for you to give anything you want me to know before hand
Kn Arcana: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (15) + 15 = 30

no, i couldnt. well, perhaps i could. he looks you up and down. No, i dont think my friend will show much interest in this. 125 gold and it's yours. he follows it up with a shrug. I do not know if they are enchanted.

I'll start with Appraise, and then follow with Diplomacy.

Appraise of the bagpipes: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (15) + 10 = 25

"I wonder if they are really worth that much," says Crusk, looking at the bagpipes' condition. "And remember, I'd like to have the flowers too."

Diplomacy for Haggling: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (8) + 12 = 20

Yeda frowns.

Look, I don't want to kill you. I just needed a finger! Would you endure a little pain and start your atoning process? I think it's only right...

Intimidate: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28

Hearing the admittance of both murder and the question about the finger the young druid froze from where he was squatting his hand half froze rising to his mask and the other towards the haft of a spear over his shoulder. He tilted his head as if he heard something.

"The mayor said we were not to harm him..."

His voice was really low and quiet his tone held an almost questioning tone to it. like he was questioning her intent. his hand gripped the spear's haft...

the man drops to his knees before yeda. He holds up a hand and looks at the woman with tears streaming down his face. take it! Take my hand! Take this body! Free me from this guilt! Do it! DO IT NOW! i beg you! Do it!

50 gold? perish the thought. to accept so little. Hardly. he looks at you 96 gold. he counters.
The pipes are, aside from looking old and used, appear to be solidly made. The fitment of pieces hold tight when twisted, the mouth piece without teeth marks, the bag fills and holds air well. While you havent ever used one yourself, youve seen them used enough to understand the basics of how to use them.

Father zantus rocks on his feet. well, the thing im scratching my head on is how do we get Daelk's soul out of jorn's body? Unless we kill him, which i will not consent to do under any circumstances. he looks off Casting resurrection upon Daelks remains, well, the spell itself reconstructs his body from the remains. But, without the soul floating in the void, the spell itself will fizzle and be wasted. Im sure there's some spell that does this, but what it is, i have no idea....

50 gold? perish the thought. to accept so little. Hardly. he looks at you 96 gold. he counters.

The pipes are, aside from looking old and used, appear to be solidly made. The fitment of pieces hold tight when twisted, the mouth piece without teeth marks, the bag fills and holds air well. While you havent ever used one yourself, youve seen them used enough to understand the basics of how to use them.

"70 Gold."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (12) + 12 = 24

Zeldana blinked twice. Had her emotions been active she'd of likely started yelling at him. "I have explained this twice already. Are you simply not listening or is it that you are not comprehending? Either way, they do say that third time is the charm. Let us test that hypothesis." Zeldana began, "You will cast the spell on Jorn's body. Jorn's soul, the owner of the body, would then return. Two souls cannot be in the same body, and since Jorn is the owner and the body and has had decades in it to Daelk's two weeks, his affinity with the body is greater. Daelk's soul would then be expelled from the body and will need a place to go, what do we happen to have? That is correct, his own body! The one his soul would be openly drawn to! This is why I stated with proper preparation and a little bit of luck, we would be able to save two lives for the price of one. There is still a chance once Jorn's soul kicks Daelk's out that he could be swept back to the Boneyard, but I have a few things in mind to aid in preventing it. And since you do not listen or apparently care what I have to say, try to listen to this: I have no magic left, but I can still pull on the threads of fate. The threads which bind us to this plane, to our souls, to our fates" She stated as she crossed her arms. "But you must come to terms with the fact we could fail, and this will cause Daelk's soul to return to the Boneyard."

Yeda winces when Corrin reminds her of the mayor's mandate.

Always meddling...

She then turns to Corrin with the pleading expression.

Look, it's what the guy wants!

Father Zantus looks at you, silently.
he stands still, motionless. His eyes takes you in, looking at you, but absent emotion, judgement. He remains motionless, locked on you.
The silence grows, longer and larger, him just standing there looking at you.
Finally he speaks.
While i agree with your assertion that the soul of Jorn will take root into his own body, i do not agree that Daelk's soul will return to his restored body. If anything, it is entirely possible that the spells action may fracture his soul, akin to the dark necromatics that are akin to the raising of the undead. Can you guarantee that his soul will end up in his body? I cant. And im the one going to be directing the spell. he shakes his head. as for your magic. he looks you up and down. Magic cannot be taken from you. Magic is a part of you, similar to an arm or leg. sure, they can be broken, but eventually they heal. But, they are still apart of the body. Magic is the same way. It is a part of you, no matter what. yes, there are ways to Dampen one's ability to cast spells, but those are very high level spells, or curses that are delivered by demons, devils, and other deific entities. But the spark remains. and it is a spark that fuels one's internal strength to manifest magic. My magic comes from my faith in Desna. She blesses my faith with her influences upon that which i desire. Anx is a powerful wizard. His magic is wrapped into his understanding of the magical waves and his ability to manipulate them. Sorcerers, their bloodline fuels their power as it 'remembers' how to cast the spell, even if the man wielding the power, until it is revealed, has no clue as to how to cast it. Witches have pacts that power your spells. Did something upset your pact? did something sever your connection with the source of your pact? Take the basic witch. She is held to a contract with Asmodeus. (No, i dont think you are bound to the father of contracts, so dont start on that "woe is me" nonsense). unless she is able to obtain her contract, or the contract is torn up, she is held to it's contents, and in return she receives profane powers. if anything, it is a bastardized version of my faith in my goddess. Unless this otherworldly entity you have a pact with has abandoned you or cut you off, then the magic is still there. you just have to go looking for it. Challenge yourself. Challenge your belief in that you do not have your magic. Sit down someplace- there, go sit down in the shade of the wall, and contemplate your magic.
He shakes his body, as though a chill crawled up his spine.
Orlin approaches, and i must pray to cleanse my soul, to center myself to prepare for this casting of the spell. he pauses, and smiles at you Look. after we finish with the resurrection of Jorn, i will gladly sit with you and help you figure this out. But please, humor an old man. go sit over there and seriously think about your magic.
Orlin stumps over, his free hand heavy with a full bag. A heavy wheeze comes from him.
Thank you Orlin. Please, lay out the items. I must pray.
Father zantus steps away from you, and walks to a small bench where he takes a seat.

Zeldana simply held his gaze the whole time. She never blinked, never showed any form of emotions. She just... waited, like a statue. "You should know Zantus that nothing is a guarantee, save that we are born, and that we will die. Those are the only two truths any mortal being can know." She simply answered as if it was a mear thought and nothing more. "But given our current choices are, kill him, or try our luck with this, you do not have much in the way of options. Unless you are as complacent as Gunnar in the deaths of thousands which would fall in the path of Urgathoa or the incalculable number of lives who would suffer if she did get her hands on him. Then there is a third option yes."

However his second line of thought seemed to strike something... not rage or fear, but curiosity. "But Desna can withdraw her magic from you should she decide you have made an error so great she cannot forgive it. My bond, my power, came from my harrow deck. It chose me. For whatever reason it saw something in me. It is likely it simply does not see what it once did, and since it was the one with the power in this arrangement, it could withdraw the choice it made at any point... and they do not always feel the need to give us answers.." She clarified with a shrug. "I am not upset, Zantus. I simply applied your own lesson of this situation with Desna to all the gods. Since their titles mean so much. After all, we are only here now because of Lady Luck." She stated.

Zeldana however just dismissed him with a wave and not words. There was not much left to say after all. She did do one thing he requested at least. Taking a seat off to the side, she took out her cards and dug through them until she found The Owl, the neutral card of Stars. "The one who picks apart the threads of the living and dead, then sews them back together. I would have called upon you and a few others for this." Zeldana said softly to herself as she placed the card back into the deck and shuffled a few times before drawing the top card.

"And the mayor will still make trouble if we do anythin since it wasnt her idea. Politicians...."

He had wanted to say humans.... but give his present company it might not go well. He pulled out a whetsone and instead began sharpening his spears.

You shuffle the deck, and a presence that has been absent, a presence not felt since that night, returns. a soft warmth flows from the cards and suffuses your body, taking you back once again to not 10 years before, sitting at the back of your grandmother's wagon as she travelled with a caravan. You can feel her presence beside you, a warmth similar to her sitting beside you the first time you drew from her deck. the very same deck that you hold now in your hands.
You try to pull one card out, but instead catch a second, an both are revealed upon the reveal.
The Survivor and The Marriage.

Gunnar pats Daelk on the crying man's shoulder. I know not what the law here in Sandpoint is, whether you deserve death for a deed that has happened in your prior life. And I, nor anyone here, is capable of pronouncing judgement upon you for your actions. he looks at Yeda and Corrin. However, you have freely offered a finger in the effort to help bring back brother Jorn. We shall remove a single digit from your body, and i will render immediate aid and healing for you to minimize your pain and suffering.
Daelk looks up at Gunnar, tears wetting his cheeks. The look of acceptance overcomes his features. He nods and holds up his left hand. So be it.
Gunnar steps behind Daelk and looks at Corrin Good elf Corrin. Would you do the honors. And please, do provide a swift and sure cut.

Zeldana looked at the pair, thinking over the meaning. The Survivor was obvious, it was Daelk. He was lost to all over in his time, and those who knew him had written him off as dead for sure. They buried him after all. But the marriage, that was the questionable one. Though it sat firmly as the lawful neutral card among the Crowns, the meaning she was curious about. Which action? What grouping? Of that Zeldana was not sure. But she was sure of one thing, Daelk was at the center of it.

Since Zantus was busy with his right, Zeldana went to Orlin. "Please let Father Zantus know I will be back, I need to go check on something. Just let him know Em will be back." Zeldana request with a small smile before she headed off.

As she moved, she drew from her deck the Cricket. The neutral good card of dexterity. It represents the grig, quick travel, and the reward at the end of a journey. "Hear me Wagon of the Caravan, you carry the cosmic caravan across the sky through the whole year. You are the legs on which all wonder, closest to Desna in deed and act. I ask now for your speed, as Feet are for Walking." Zeldana prayed as she imbued the card with her magic and stuck it against her exposed thigh. "Fate is not a direct line, it is a branching tree, and we choose the path we take. Follow the Hunch, but Bear the Consequences." Zeldana chanted as she took a runner's pose and allowed the magic she had kept dormant to channel through the imbued card into her legs for speed. 'Is he in danger? Could my friends be in danger?! Speed is of importance here.' She thought, the ruinous nature of the marriage made Zeldana nervous. And since it was tied to The Survivor, she feared it was meant for him but what plan? What group? Was it her plan to put him back in his body? The fact they left him alive and Urgathoa was hunting him? Or could it be a factor she was missing? Zeldana wondered as she set off at the highest speed she could manage. She hated when only one thing was clear, but that eas how the cards fall sometimes.

Loxley almost felt guilty standing there as Daelk broke down.
She was no cleric. Hells, she couldn’t remember the last time she really took a moment to pay proper respects. Maybe that was why one of them had to have taken to turning her world upside down.
Perhaps somewhere in her heart she blamed the gods for what had happened to her parents. But the logical part of her knew that was silly. The gods weren’t responsible for every ill that befell mere mortals. Men were more than capable of causing strife on their own.
And Daelk’s story reflected that.

Loxley finally stepped forward as Gunnar turned to Corrin. She crouched beside Daelk, hugging her knees.
”The gods don’t necessarily influence our lives in ways we like or understand, but perhaps this time one has decided to. And, whether by design or happenstance, it was granted you a chance to redeem yourself. If not in their eyes, then at least in your own.”
She offered in an attempt to calm the distressed man.

Thanks GM

Gunnar thinks Loxley's words are very wise and doesn't dare to add to them, but he does place a soothing hand on the man's shoulder.

Daelk mumbles to himself incomprehensible sounds. He grimaces and groans, and finally snaps out THEN I SHALL REDEM MYSELF!
he lunges forward, smashing hard into Loxley! his shoulder connects with loxley's nose, crushing it to a pulp! blood spurts out as pain blinds her. he action pushes them both to the ground! his hands reach out, pawing at the handles of the weapons upon her hips. He manages to pull out the dagger from it's sheath, brandishing it in reverse grip!
I Die! he yells out, plunging it to his chest.
feel free to take an action.

You call out to the Cosmic Caravan for aide, for speed, for putting wind to your back. You brace yourself for the oncoming aide... only to drop your deck of cards to the ground.
down they tumble, flipping end over end, spreading wide and far as an errant wind picks them up, scattering them. They dont spread far, no more than a stride. But as you stoop to pick them up, you stop, and stare.
The cards, all of them, have fallen, face side down.
all except one.
The Cricket.
Magic, pure magic, your magic, surges through you as a spell falls upon you, fills you. You feel your body grow larger. your arms and legs lengthen, your chest grows in size, you hair, your head. Your viewpoint changes, growing taller.
you stand just over 11 feet tall.
note that you have just cast Enlarge person on yourself

Orlin, who had been standing next to you a moment before, hoots and churtles spittle as he reacts to your size.

you begin to run...

GM: reflex saves to intercept him? Perhaps at least Loxley?

What?! Yeda lunges to stop his desperate action.

Reflex: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 2 = 21