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I hope the others have delivered Mireille to safety. And I better help Brayden extricate his foot from his mouth, before he swallows it. We just need to convince the Watch to let us go now.
"Brayden, little brother, just tell these fine peace officers the truth. You were lured out here by that little vixen from Kaer Maga, the one with a sting like Callistria. Why can't you just find a nice samsaran girl, settle down, and make our parents happy?"
Lazarus slowly gets to his feet.
"Thank you for the water, sirrah. Can you permit my brother to take me home, so I can rest and you can get back to your regular duties? We'll keep an eye out for trouble and strive to avoid it."
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Frankie nods slowly as Meredith suggests they leave now "If you think we should, I guess. I gotta refill my mug first ok?" He rushes into the kitchen and tops off his mug, tightens the straps on his backpack and heads for the secret door. The tin of cookies, jar of sugar, and a warm pot of cocoa left out for the whoever comes in next.
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Saeran’s eyes go wide in stupor and surprise when Mireille hugs him. Although strongly inclined to favor rationality over emotions, the half-elf has feelings just like anyone else, and the whole sneaky escape has excited him too. He didn’t think his first assignment would end up being so peculiar, but in the end he finds it strangely electrifying. The presence of Mireille added some extra spice to it, casting up a sweet, almost romantic aftertaste to the whole experience. That is something new to Saeran too: perhaps too focused on self-improvement, he never seriously considered giving an important place to feelings such as love in his life, less out of an aware choice than to a subconscious deal with himself.
Lingering perhaps a few seconds more than necessary in Mireille’s embrace, Saeran eventually smiles, feeling the tension and the pressure of the mission suddenly wearing off. He immediately feels relieved and excited, as though his weight was abruptly lightened by an external force. “We did good. And we must thank the others for their work and courage. I hope they will be able to find us here.”
Naturally letting the embrace dissolve, Saeran starts slowly pacing inside the room. “If they do not come here within a few minutes I will go look for them, just in case. If I don’t see you again, I hope you the best, Mireille. You trusted me, but it was my very first field mission, you know? Perhaps your trust was a bit misplaced,” he says with a brief laugh, “but in the end everything turned out just fine so…I’m glad you did.”
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Frankie waves at Meredith to follow him out the secret door in the back after he checks to see the coast is clear, large mug in his hand as he balances it so nothing slops out. A fine steam rises out of it in the cool, salty air. "Umm, maybe we should go meet everyone at the candy shoppe, that's a good place right?" He creeps slowly off in the direction of the main street, fumbling his other hand in his pocket with a small, square piece of metal.
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Frankie continues to wave Meredith after him as he starts to pick up speed once he's out of the area with the guards If I was a candy shoppe where would I be? On main street of course! He rounds the corner with renewed enthusiasm, looking for the first people he can find to ask about it. "Do you know where the candy shoppe is around here Miss? How about you Mr? I've gotta meet my friends there, its an emergency!"
After some nervous faces and some well-to-dos from the Miss, Frankie finally gets some finger pointing to get them on their way. "Whew thanks, I can't be late!" He waves Meredith along behind him and turns on the speed before his sugar high crashes and things spiral out of control.
Frankie skids to a stop outside a small two story shop on the backside of the block off main street. Hands on his hips and sucking wind for a few moments, he tugs on his backpack straps, stows his cocoa mug, and heads inside. His eyes open widely as he spins slowly in place, taking in the flood of colors at all levels. Walls lined with shelves with glass jars filled with all sizes, shapes and manner of sugary goodness. "Wow..." is all he can get out of his mouth before he hops up onto a bar stool.
He reaches down into a his pocket with his tiny right hand as his left absentmindedly wipes a dribble of drool forming in the corner of his mouth. I'm going to get the worst belly ache I've had in weeks, but it'll be worth it...
He lifts his hand up and plops it on the glass bar, dropping out a small medal badge with the name VIRO across it, a smile creeps across his face. "Umm, hi. This town watch guy gave me his badge and told me to come here? He said to hang out and eat candy and wait for him. He wants to talk to me about what I saw... There was a lady's scream and..." He sits quietly for a moment, staring blankly at the woman behind the counter.
After a few moments he looks up and points feebly at a jar of gummie bears and jelly beans next to it. "Can I try those please?" He smiles weakly "And do you have hot cocoa?"
Frankie begins to feast and pocket, and feast on as much candy as he can...
"Sorry Miss, when I get home if my big brother smells candy on my breath he'll beat me to smithereens if I don't have any to share! He's so much bigger than me!" Bluff take 10 for 22
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"W-wait, Frankie!" Meredith watches the boy run off, and she starts to give chase. Every time she gets close, she has to pause as villagers cross her path, or Frankie ducks underneath a cart and she has to circle around it.
"Now where did that... figures." The signboard reads Temptations: A Candy Shoppe and features a caricature of a red-skinned horned woman winking with a childish smile. "Get them while they're young..."
As she enters, Meredith catches a whiff of all the sweetness. Sugar cane, honey, beet sugar, molasses, citrus, peppermint and of course - Denair's least favorite- Maple Syrup.
"Hello there, may I help you?" Meredith's a bit surprised to see a middle-aged tiefling move up to her. "Welcome to Temptations, the sweetest candy shoppe in Town. I'm Bette. Do I look like the sign? I hear that all the time." Her wings twitch slightly as she smiles.
"Oh..." Meredith is caught off guard by the woman's natural charm. "This must be your store. Right. Um... I'm looking for a... are those salted figs? I've been meaning to try these out. I ate a few figs in Mwangi. I'm amazed you were able to preserve it. Do you know who grew this?" Meredith distracts herself and starts conversing about raw ingredients and the difficulty of managing tropical produce.
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While Meredith and Frankie sneak their way out the back of the Fox Den and disappear into the streets of the West Drenches, the trio of guards stand flummoxed.
"Didja see that? It just...up and disappeared!" Enrico exclaims with wonder.
"Yes Enrico, I saw it..." seethes Viro, now without his badge or a suspect. "Damnit! We've got nothing to show for this entire mess! The captain's going to have our heads at this rate," he exclaims, slamming his fist into the side of the building.
Trem coughs, glancing over at the two blue 'brothers'. "Uh, sir? We've still got some witnesses...and there's still the building and the perimeter, too. Never did get a chance to really search either one, did we?"
At this, Viro seems to brighten a bit. "That's true...and our other informant saw what happened, too," he remarks with a glance at the raven, watching from its perch nearby. "Very well! You two," he points at Lazarus and Brayden, "stay right where you are until the three of us can secure the building perimeter. We just need to get your statements for our records and then you'll be free to go." He offers the two 'brothers' a sympathetic look, apparently buying Lazarus' story. "I know you've been through a lot this evening but be patient and do what we say and you'll be on your way before you know it."
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Mireille smiles at Saeran in the semi-darkness, not daring to risk a light just yet. "The very fact that we stand here talking, that we've not heard any indication that your friends have been caught, that proves that my trust was in fact very well placed, don't you think? Mine and Zefiro's."
Here, her voice seems to falter slightly. "I do hope he's alright...his own position here in the city is tenuous at best," she sighs.
"But I'm sure he's fine," Mireille quickly adds, trying to sound cheery again. "He's a resourceful fellow himself, you know. For an academic."
The elven woman makes her way to a nearby window and parts the curtain slightly, peering out into the streets. "It still seems quiet out there. You're welcome to wait her for your friends as long as you like, but if you want to head out to look for them I won't blame or stop you. They might not even try to make their way here, if they suspect you've succeeded. Maybe they'll head to wherever you've got lodgings for the night," she suggests. "If you can't find them quickly then that's where I'd suggest you look."
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Velia shoots Dalen a surprisingly grateful look as her tales of the Border Wood quiet the children enough for her to more or less steer them along the West Drenches' quiet streets until the party reaches the temple. Unsurprisingly the exterior is in a classical style long-favored in Cheliax, all columns and arches. Inside, the open ceiling acts as the temple's roof and multiple shrines can be seen; the largest and most prominent features the red pentagram of Asmodeus.
The temple is nearly devoid of life at this time of the evening, with only a single caretaker sweeping the floor; he pays the group little mind as they enter. Velia and the children give the shrine to Asmodeus the briefest of nods before settling on some of the nearby stone benches - or on the floor.
"Now then...we'll just stop here and rest a bit, before we head back home," Velia says with an audible sigh of the relief and Dalen can almost see the tension drain from her body.
"Um, Miss Dalen? That story about the ghoul was...it was kinda scary, but kinda cool, too," a little boy named Gavin pipes up. "I really liked the part where your uncle jumped off the ledge after it with his sword! Can you tell us another story about him, before we have to go back home and go to bed?"
Eagerly, the rest of the children crowd around Dalen as well, clamoring for more. "Yes, please tell us another! Your stories are really exciting!"
Velia offers Dalen a tired smile, shaking her head. "Now you've done it. They'll be wanting you to come by every week now!"
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Having easily slipped away from the hubbub at the Fox Den, it isn't long before Meredith and Frankie find themselves seated inside the Temptations candy shop, gorging themselves on sweets.
"The figs? My supplier's a Garundi fellow by the name of Fekadu," Bette responds cheerily as she bustles about the shop. "He does a fantabulous job, doesn't he? My shop might not be the Bee Sweet Candy Shoppe but I know for a fact that the figs I sell are better than theirs!"
"And honey, you just enjoy," she adds over her shoulder to Frankie, "but take care you don't make yourself sick, okay? You act like you've not eaten in weeks!"
As she turns around and begins to wipe down the counter, she pauses and picks up the badge Frankie had placed there, looking it over with some curiosity. "Strange thing for a watchman to give their badge away, even to a child...I'm pretty sure they'd get a tongue-lashing at the very least from whoever their superior is," she remarks casually. "But don't you worry dears, it's none of my business. If he was silly enough to lose track of it, well..." she leaves the thought unfinished and continues to wipe down the counter, whistling a jaunty tune as she does.
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"No problem, sir. If you've quill and parchment, I'll have the statement ready before you're finished."
Sworn Statement
I was walking along the alley, looking for Brayden, when a beetle appeared. Enrico, Viro, and Trem responded to my pleas for help. They slew the beetle and administered first aid to me. All three gentlemen are true professionals and fine representatives of their Order.
Lazarus Logos
"Here, Brayden," Lazarus hands him the quill, "provide a truthful account and let's be on our way."
After handing over his witness statement, the wizard-priest of Desna accompanies his 'brother' Brayden back to their lodging and waits for the rest of their companions to join them.
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With each of you having done your part to secure Mireille's escape from the Fox Den, your thoughts begin to finally turn to the matter of meeting back up with your companions. Saeran and Mireille, Meredith and Frankie, Dalen and Velia and the children, all eventually make their respective goodbyes and part ways, making their way one by one to the Wicked Fork where Cassian had promised to get the group some rooms for the night. The Wicked Fork is a weatherworn building marked by a trident with the central tine broken off and despite the questionable nature of the food, it's a welcome sight to each of you after the evening you've had!
Lazarus and Brayden are kept from this the longest, having to endure Corentyn and Cheliaxian bureaucracy as their papers are checked, double-checked, and checked again, then each of their statements taken down in triplicate. At long last, they're thankfully free to go and manage to make their way to the inn without incident.
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The night thankfully passes without incident and each of you rise the next morning, rested and ready to hopefully head out to Emberhold. When you troop downstairs, you're all surprised to a disheveled-looking Cassian already at the bar, mug of ale in his hand. His hair is damp and his brow is grimy, suggesting that his own evening might have been just as industrious as your own. At the sound of your footsteps, he glances up at you and then quickly downs the rest of his ale, slamming the mug back down on the bar.
"I don't know what kinda night you lot go up to, but I'm here to tell you that I'm through sneaking around for Zarta Dralneen!" he exclaims.
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Frankie smiles and nods as the candy shoppe lady speaks with him, but mostly all he can here in his brain is MOAR SUGAR, MUST HAVE MOAR! He instinctively slows down as she turns to face him, only to redouble his efforts to eat or pocket every last piece of candy in the place. Once and a while he puts his hand on his stomach and grimaces, but fights on.
"I guess he isn't going to show up, its getting late, I should get home. I'll try to find him tomorrow, and send him here to get his badge and stuff. Thanks, your candy is great!" He slides himself off the stool in full sugar rush mode and hobbles quickly outside after Meredith leaves. I don't think I can eat another bite... and my teeth hurt!
He quickly hobbles along to catch up with Meredith, his new candy stash weighing him down in the process. He stuffs it deeper and deeper into his backpack, saving just a few handfuls for his cloak pockets. "Time to find the others I guess right? Those fig things good? They looked too much like fruit for me."
Frankie's quick steps and top end sugar high quickly start to come to a screeching halt as they finally get to the Inn. He heads inside with narry a word, holding his stomach as he goes, relying on Meredith to lead him to his room I think my tummy is gonna blow up... He quickly climbs into bed, clothes and shoes and all and lays there, staring at the ceiling for hours, brain chasing its tail at 90 miles per hour until he finally passes out.
It takes a while, quite a long while in fact, for Frankie to appear downstairs for breakfast. His hair has returned to its bright yellow color and the look of utter misery is written across his face, highlighted in small bags under his eyes.
He slowly climbs up on to the bar stool and speaks but a single word to the bar tender. "Milk." After a few minutes of sipping his sugar hangover cure he turns to ask Cassian the most appropriate thing he can muster so far today "Who's Zarta?"
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"Certainly, er, brother," Brayden shrugs at Lazarus, taking the quill and paper.
Sworn Statement
While enjoying the scenery of the vast stone jungle that is Corentyn, I happened upon a flock of guards on duty. In honesty, I was looking for a companion of mine, and could not find her, but who could I really tell? Not that it mattered. During my exploration, I happened upon my brother, who quickly outed me!
He looks at Lazarus sideways with a half-smile.
Oh, how embarrassing.
In any case, I offered up a card game to these fine guards, but this particular bunch was strictly business. Just as they should be. I wonder if we'll get to play after I fill this paperwork out?
He folds his statement up and hands it over. "There are you. A pleasure to meet you. Let's go, 'bro'" He follows Lazarus to rejoin the others.
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Meredith and Bette continue to make small talk, as they discuss raw ingredients and how they are processed. But the conversation dies down and Meredith thanks Bette for her time. "Oh, no problem." the tiefling grins. "By the way, your son owes me about five gold pieces for all of that candy he ate. Now you could pay up now, or maybe we can meet up later and you can buy me some coffee." The tiefling giggles and hands Meredith her address on a slip of paper. "Don't be a stranger!"
Meredith is too stunned to speak, and simply ushers Frankie from Tempations.
Back at the inn, Meredith finally relaxes. "The children are safe, right? Good. Frankie and I drank a lot of cocoa, and this rather charming store owner hit on me. I think." Meredith fiddles with her silverware nervously.
After celebrating their success, Meredith sleeps the night away.
The next morning, Meredith is back to her more confident self.
"Time to summon Denair." She calls upon the forces of nature to aid her. Three roses bud on her head as Denair emerges from a rose on the ground. She ruffles the fox-tree's head. "I missed you too."
She looks at Cassian. "Zarta leads the Dark Archive faction, right? I hope she didn't send. you on some godforsaken mission."
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Saeran lets some time pass in order to be completely sure that no one will be looking out for him or Mireille, nor keeping an eye on her home. After greeting her for the last time, the half-elf cautiously leaves her house and, not seeing his fellow Pathinders anywhere around him, he starts making his way toward the tavern as suggested by Mireille. On his way there, Saeran tries to act as naturally as possibly, taking mental notes on curious or interesting things he sees as he walks toward his destination.
Once there, Saeran's eyes quickly notice the Pathfinders gathered around the table. The half-elf produces a quick smile and makes his way to the table, before sitting on one of the chairs. "Mission accomplished," he states with satisfaction, "she is safe and sound at her place." Although not inclined to share the feelings he experienced during the mission with his colleagues, Saeran listens to their stories with interest.
***
The next day, Saeran wakes up in a good mood and ready to continue his mission. As he descends in the hall of the tavern, though, he sees Cassian and he can't help but feel sorry for the man's fate. The half-elf approaches the human, and puts a hand on his shoulder. "You look a bit worn out, my friend, but at least you are here. Was it a particularly dangerous mission?"
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"Good morning, all," Lazarus smiles as he heads downstairs for breakfast. "Good morning, Cassian. You look like you had a rough evening, too. What happened?"
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After swapping tales, Lazarus discusses next steps. "Shall we stop by the museum and let Zefiro Balinger know that Mireille is safe? We still need his information about House Davian and Emberhold."
Rucksack packed and spells prepared, the samsaran wizard-priest is ready to hit the road.
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"I agree with you, Lazarus. We should swing by the museum, those information are the reason why we helped Mireille in the first place, and as my uncles told me when I informed him I wanted to become an adventurer: "all rewards are to be collected. That's a sign of respect for both your profession and the mission you have accomplished." Saeran finishes his breakfast and stretches a bit. He gives a look at his quite ordinary shortsword and sighs. "But then I suggest we leave as soon as possible. This place somehow puts pressure on me..."
Cassian glances around a bit warily, making sure that there aren't any prying ears close by - well, aside from the owner Neld, who stands nearby wiping some of his serving glasses.
"Okay, so...Zarta gives me a message, tells me to meet her contact here in Corentyn, right? So after we parted ways last night I came out here and got our rooms and all and then went off to meet up with them," the fellow Pathfinder begins. "Turns out, it was that little halfling jerk from earlier! You know, the one that came and did all the inspections when our ship docked."
"So yeah, I was pretty damn surprised but I mean hey, guess that means ol' Tamrin's got a pretty good poker face, right? Anyway, I passed off Zarta's message and then went on my way. Wasn't my place to see what the note said, just my job to deliver it." Here, Cassian stops as an ugly scowl creeps across his face. "Then I come back here and find out that little rat is an agent for the Aspis Consortium!"
At this point, Neld leans in, still polishing on a glass. "Well, that's what I heard, anyway," he states nonchalantly. "His ties go back - way back. But that's how it goes around here. Everyone ties their cart somewhere, you know?"
Cassian shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair distractedly. "You know, I couldn't even sleep last night after learning all of that. Seems like Zarta's slipping back into old habits easily...too easily to suit me," he sighs. "But there's nothing to be done about it now. I've done my job and you folks still have yours to do. Guess I'll just hold down the fort - and our rooms - here in the city while you're on about your business."
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Though anxious to head out to Emberhold, you all decide to first pay another quick visit to Zefiro to tell him of your success in helping Mireille escape the previous night. You make your way back across the city in the early morning sun to the Museum of History and, after some quick reconnaissance to maneuver past any guards on patrol, make your way inside.
Zefiro is overjoyed when you inform him that Mireille has successfully escaped notice and capture by the Hellknights. "Oh thank you my friends, thank you! Not only is she my friend but she's also an invaluable asset in recording and maintaining a record of Corentyn's true history," the curator exclaims, pumping each of your hands up and down with enough force to rattle your teeth.
"Here, as promised, I have a document that may be of particular interest to you," Zefiro says, beckoning you all to his office once more, where he produces a worn, carefully preserved slip of paper.
"It's not much I'm afraid, but hopefully enough for you to work with. I suspect now you see why and how House Davian has been all but forgotten."
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"Starvation?" Frankie gulps nervously "No cocoa, or cookies, or cake, or muffins?" He leans back, eyes staring straight ahead with a look of terror "No pancakes, no french toast, no biscuits, no... maple syrup?"
He sticks his hands into his cloak pocket and pulls out a handful of assorted candy, popping them into his mouth one at a time "No snickers, no jelly beans, no gummy bears, no..." A soft crack echoes out of his closed mouth and a grimace washes over his face as he rubs his jaw "No jawbreakers.. good ridden for those!" He continues to toss the candy into his candy pit as he slowly shakes his head. "We've got to stay away from those Davians so we don't lose our snacks!"
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Dalen smiles and laughs as the other children beg her to tell another story about her uncle.
"It's fine. I can't come back e'ry week, so might as well tell as many o' th' good ones as I can!" She grins and gathers the children close as she tells another story, this one a lot less scary and a lot more funny. Once, when she hadn't even been twelve, they'd come across a troupe of fey at play and their gnomish druid guardian. Her and her uncle had laughed off the multitude of pranks played on them, and she still had the tiny dress and lyre she was given to wear to a "Royal Tea" in a box back in her room at her uncle's house.
"Another! Another!" The children begged as they threatened to riot then and there. Dalen agrees, but only if they behaved and obeyed Velia as she herds them into some semblance of order. The next two stories are tales of hunts gone awry for their noble sponsors. Recounting Baron Jova's rather extreme misfortune nearly leaves Dalen rolling on the cobbles in tears. The poor baron had run afoul of one of the fey that haunt the wood and he'd left him with little to protect his dignity when it was said and done.
As she makes to say her farewells, the children beg for just one more. Dalen, unable to say no, holds out for the condition that they all were in bed first. This last story was a special one for her. Her uncle had taken her out late one night shortly before she'd turned sixteen. She'd had a particular hard time with her parents then and had withdrawn from almost everyone trying to keep herself from getting hurt. She didn't tell the children the reason why she suspected her uncle had taken her out that night. She instead did her best to tell them the wonder of the sights she saw that night. She failed. There simply weren't words to describe the beauty and grace of watching a fey known as the Moondancer dance and caper about through a snow covered forest.
The children now asleep, Dalen bade the Fox's Den farewell and tried to make her way back.
The streets were still alive and awake as Dalen made her way through them. She'd gotten lost since leaving the Fox's Den and now had no idea where she was. Her posture was straight and her eyes looked about, alert for trouble. She wasn't afraid, but she was definitely cautious. She'd lived in Absolom long enough to learn that every city has parts that you'd best not be seen wandering around alone and worried. She didn't know where Corentyn's were, but she figured it was better safe than sorry.
It was only a short time after she'd realized she was lost that she found herself recognizing where she'd been. At first, her spirits were lifted as she felt she as making progress, then she saw a young girl hauled onto a stage nearby. A chill ran down her spin as she realized where she found herself. The young girl was weeping, though she did her best to keep a mask on her face as the auctioneer called for bids and espoused the virtues of owning a "slave of such high-caliber."
It wasn't until someone spun her around that she realized she'd started heading for the stage, her expression twisted in a snarl. Her words, hot with anger, died in her throat as she saw a woman in the garb of the Corentyn guard. Her face became a mask as she berated herself for not leaving the second she realized where she was.
"I think you should come with us," the woman said in a frosty tone that did nothing to disguise the anticipation glittering deep in her green eyes. Her hand squeezed painfully around Dalen's arm as she hauled the young woman out of the crowd and into a much less crowded part of the street where she could throw her latest prey against a wall.
"Now, what do you think you were doing," she purred as the rest of her squad formed up around her, blocking any escape routes that Dalen might make use of.
"I– I was doin' nothin'," Dalen answered as calmly as she could, trying to not let her fear show as her heart pounded in her chest. She winced as the iron vise of a hand on her arm twisted and squeezed even more.
"That didn't look like nothing," the guard spat, "it looked like you were about to make trouble, like your ulfen boyfriend."
"I—" Dalen began before having the breath knocked from lungs as the woman slammed her against the wall again, harder this time.
"You don't talk unless I tell you to talk, you slave-f#@&ing b*+~$. Now, I think we should—" the woman sneered before being cut off by a shout for the guards and the wail of a woman nearby. All of the ones around Dalen scowled as their fun was interrupted. The wail and the shouted call continued and were joined by more shouts and calls for the guard.
The woman growled and slugged Dalen in the face, bouncing her head off the wall she'd been held against. Stars flared in her vision as she tumbled to the ground. She was still disoriented when a hobnailed boot slammed into her belly and knocked the breath from her again.
"Best make yourself scarce. You won't like what we'll do to you next time we see ya," a sneering voice told her as the sounds of a dozen boots on cobbles thunder around her for a moment as the guards rush off.
As soon as they were gone, Dalen was struggling back to her feet and rushing off into the night, hoping to make it to the place they were staying without any more trouble. She took a trencher of stew and a cheap ale to wash it down with to her room, refusing to talk about why she looked so shaken or the shiner over her left eye.
Dalen listens with half an ear to what had happened to Cassian, and keeps her cowl pulled low over her head to keep anyone from getting a good look at her face. She moves a little stiffly, and winces whenever she twists or bends at the waist too hastily. She still refuses to talk about last night, if anyone asks, and keeps looking over her shoulders as if expecting to see someone following them. She hardly pays attention to Zefiro as he thanks them for saving Mireille.
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Lazarus listens to Cassian tell them his tale and to the bits added by the innkeep Neld.
"We might want to have a private chat with Tamrin, maybe in a soundproof room."
The samsaran scratches his chin. "I don't believe Zarta would send you to a meet with an Aspis Consortium agent without warning you first. Perhaps, Tamrin was posing as Zarta's contact. Do you know what was in the message you passed to him?"
The wizard-priest looks thoughtful. "Cassian, if the Aspis are aware of your presence, they're likely aware of our affiliation with the Pathfinder Society, as well. We should be on the lookout for Aspis surveillance teams and anticipate interference to thwart our mission."
"We should also warn Zefiro Balinger that the Aspis might pay a call on him. He might be in danger."
Denair is glad to be back. Not that the Court treats her badly, but it's boring out there. And someone needs to keep track of the Queen of Thorns.
Meredith ruffles her fur and she grins. She sees Frankie is agitated and groggy, Dalen is... very withdrawn and the Boss seems to be happier than before. Weird.
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At the inn, Meredith shakes her head. "I'm no good at this spy stuff. But whomever your real contact was, they got intercepted. And if that is your contact, then Aspis set you up from the beginning."
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Meredith reads the declaration. "History is written by the winners? I guess that's what she thinks." she grumbles.
"How the heck does this help us?" She wonders aloud. "We need to look for Emberhold, which was once on House Davian ground. All this tells us is why it's so secret." Meredith can't hide her disappointment. "I'm glad Mirelle, Valen and the kids are safe at least."
"Hey, maybe Mirelle can tell us more, now that she's not in danger." Meredith stands up as an idea sparks from within.
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Lazarus shares his concerns about the Aspis Consortium with Zefiro Balinger, warning him that he might be in danger.
He examines the document the man shows them from his archives.
"What do we know about Anglemire? Are any of you familiar with its history, and why it earned House Thrune's ire for 'seditious and treasonous acts?"
He looks at Meredith. "Yes, we should have asked Mireille about House Davian."
The samsaran turns to the museum curator. "Zefiro, do you think your friend might be able to shed some light on our quest?"
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"I knew that little scoundrel was not to be trusted," Brayden grumbles aloud, smacking a fist into an open palm.
"I agree that Zefiro here may require some protection. Is there somewhere you can stay, perhaps a little more secretive?" The samsaran wonders. "Death by starvation sounds like one of the worst ways to go. Cheliax never ceases to surprise, and I do not mean that in a good way."
"This is a whole new step in the Infernal Queen's agenda against House Davian. Hiding their history was one thing, but this..." He bows his head. "It is truly awful."
You don't sense any exaggeration or subterfuge on Cassian's part - he seems to have trusted in Zarta and now the revelation that her supposed contact is in league with the Aspis has definitely shaken that trust.
As for Neld, he seems genuinely curious about the matter but more for his own personal edification than any malice or underhanded motives. He also seems to be telling the truth about Tamrin's allegiances, as best as he knows at any rate.
"I don't know...maybe? As much as she likes to pretend otherwise, I gotta admit that even Zarta isn't always the best judge of character," Cassian replies to Lazarus. "Could be she didn't know he's got Aspis ties. But it was definitely him I was supposed to deliver that message to; she described him to a T'." The rattled agent goes to take another swig from his mug and finds it already drained. "Damn..." he sighs, setting it back on the bar.
"As to what was in that note, I don't know - I was told not to look at it and so I didn't look at it. You get a reputation right quick if you start disobeyin' orders, even among the Pathfinders," Cassian adds, his expression dour. "At any rate, yeah, there's a good chance that dirty little runt knows you're all agents too, so I'd definitely watch your backs. If the Aspis are sniffing around it bodes good for no one."
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Zefiro laughs bitterly at the notion that the Aspis Consortium pose him a danger. "They would have to take a number and wait in line! I told you yesterday that I'm being watched and what happened down in the West Drenches only proves it. If the Aspis has any business with me they'd have to wait until the Hellknights finish with me - though I doubt there'd be much left by then anyway."
"But to your question - Mireille will have undoubtedly slipped out of the city by now but I'll do what I can to fill in the gaps. You see, House Davian, led by Duchess Lannavia Davian, challenged Thrune for control of Cheliax at the Battle of a Hundred Kings, a struggle that devastated Corentyn near the end of the civil war," Zefiro explains. "The house’s holdings included much of the nation’s west coast - including Angelmire, where Emberhold stood. Of course Thrune retaliated by utterly crushing the Davians. Numerous revisions of Cheliax’s official history have downplayed the Davians’ role during the civil war, such that many don’t even remember the Davian name, much less that they almost defeated House Thrune."
"You see now why Thrune has since done what they can to wipe House Davian from all record and memory," the curator finishes with a wry smile. "As to Angelmire specifically, I don't know for certain but I would guess that its residents were loyal to House Davian and stood with them - at least for a time."
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Lazarus listens with rapt attention, "Fascinating, Zafiro. I'm grateful we had the opportunity to discuss this little-known history with a scholar of your reputation and expertise."
The samsaran asks at his companions, "Does this suggest a nexus between the Aspis Consortium and Thrune to suppress this unpopular piece of history from public knowledge? How does this fit with the nature of our mission? Many questions, few answers. Not yet, anyway."
Lazarus stands, ready to depart. "Shall we resume our journey?
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Frankie wrinkles his nose at the mention of the Aspis "Oh I don't like those guys, they're meanies. They tried to smoosh me at that place with all the name plates... you know, the one that's all pretty and white stone?" He turns to Meredith "You remember don't you? I just remember them ambushing us and there being a big fight, but I don't remember much else." He scratches his head in thought.
"I'm ready to go I guess too. Oh, if some watchman guy named Viro? Stops by, tell him you know where his badge is, but don't settle for his first offer! I left it with the candy store owner... the one with the funny lady with horns?"
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Brayden doesn't have a whole lot to add. The goal seemed clear. "Is it just me, or is Emberhold a part of Angelmire, and by going to Emberhold, we'd both follow our original directive and investigate what remains of Angelmire now?" He scratches his head, a touch confused.
"I agree entirely with Dalen's sentiment. I really need my katana back!"
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Resolved to burn away the metaphorical mists blanketing Emberhold and the town of Angelmire, you all make your way back to the docks and to the Sea Sylph long enough to retrieve your checked weapons and other gear before heading north out of the city. You follow a road that winds along the coast, skirting along the edge of the Anferita Woods. The skies are gray and the sea breeze carries a bit of a chill to it, but for many of you the open road may very well be much more welcoming than the oppressive atmosphere of Corentyn.
After a few hours of travel, you finally reach your destination according to the map. Instead of the town or small fishing village you might've expected however, all that remains of Angelmire are a few sturdy stone buildings that are slowly but surely being reclaimed by nature, vines creeping through the open windows and weeds peeking out from between the cracks. As the waves crash on the nearby shore you hear the caw of a lone seagull as it cleaves through the sky overhead.
At the northern end of the town, where the Eismont foothills meet with the rocky steps of the Menador Mountaints, is a short, square tower surrounded by crumbling walls. Thick curtains of lush, green ivy reach upward from an ocean of waving grass and cling to the cracked stone walls - all that remains of what surely must have been Emberhold.
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Lazarus activates his wand of mage armor, then stows it in his rucksack.
He takes stock of the desolate ruins' exterior appearance, listening for unusual sounds, becoming familiar even with the smell of the place.
"Well, what do you think? Shall we take a walk around the ruins and see what we can see? We might even be able to see inside through cracks in the masonry, broken windows and doors."
"See any tracks or other signs anyone's been here recently?"
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While the others head back into the ship's hold to find their oversized weapons, Frankie stays on the top deck and looks around for the escaped Ulfen, mostly looking out across the harbor but also lifting the tops of barrels and under tarps on deck. Before the others come up he carefully takes out a handful of candy from his cloak pocket and leaves it on top of a crate Here you go Mr Ulfen, you'll need to keep your strength up to get away!
He then happily bounds off with the others on their way out of the city, keeping his eyes peeled for the Slave.
Frankie spends the hike along the coast chasing and throwing things back and forth with Denair. Old seashells dropped from gulls, clumps of moss from the trail and of course small sticks. There is some occasional friendly fire as a few dried out crab shells hang from Meredith and Dalen's hair by the end of it. Frankie and his pal Denair chuckle to themselves wondering when people will notice.. if at all.
Once those ruins loom in the distance though, Frankie's mood changes: a fresh, fun distraction "Woah! Now THERES a place to play some serious hide and seek!" He prepares to rush off ahead, stopping for a second to wait for Denair or someone else to join him.
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Meredith's glad to be out of town. While she has a natural charisma, she really dislikes talking to too many people- especially if they think slavery is acceptable. Plus she felt so helpless without her weapons.
She doesn't mind the trip too much, although she does take time to comfort Denair- she used to be able to speak to the plants and they would part, just for her. Now she trips on roots and has to avoid thorns and outlying branches- she hates it, but Meredith reassures her that life will improve.
They come up against the ruins and Meredith scans it all.
"Huh, no one has lived here in a while. Maybe it's time for a little scouting. Denair?" Seashells hang from the back of her hair as she looks around, clearly oblivious.
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Denair doesn't really understand how "civilized" people act, so she's glad to be out of there and on the road. Frankly she'd rather curl up next to some tree, but the roots are getting in the way. She catches on the branches. And those thorns hurt a lot- oof! Sometimes Denair wants to just give up. She still doesn't understand what those marauders did that caused her to separate from her home tree.
Good thing Meredith is there to help her. She is the Queen of Thorns, after all. She takes care of her subjects, even if she doesn't know it. Meredith takes the time to pay attention to her, and she's quite thankful.
Also, Frankie is always a hoot. He's so good at hiding stuff!
Well, usually. She snickers as the Boss hasn't noticed the shells in her hair yet. Denair gives Frankie a high five. Hopefully he stays like this as he grows up.
As they reach the ruins, Denair sneaks off as usual to get a good look at the ruins.
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"Yes, that' a good idea," agrees Saeran with a nod to Lazarus before walking toward one of the broken windows. Once he is there, the half-elf tries to peek inside.
More confident with his weapons dangling from the metal ring affixed on his belt, Saeran also takes a look around the building, inspecting its perimeter unhurriedly.
"Does someone among you have any experience with crumbling buildings? I fear that if we dislodge the wrong things with our movement, we could cause more parts of the structure to collapse..."
The half-elf waits for an answer, then takes a sit on a nearby rock, pulls out his journal from his backpack and starts drawing a sketch of the building in front of him. "This is sublime, in some way. I don't know why precisely, but I find this place romantic, as the echo of a story long lost to time."
After finishing his sketch, Saeran puts the journal back into his backpack and examines the upper part of the ruin, in search for a place where his grappling hook may be fixed. If he finds such a place, Saeran uses throws the grappling hook using his hands and then tries to climb up the walls of the ruin.
If he manages to get on top, and the building is roofless, Saeran tries to take a peek in from above.
While some of the group begin to fan out and explore around the keep's perimeter, others attempt to keep a sharp lookout for anything suspicious. Lazarus in particular decides to look about for any sign of recent tracks, but doesn't discover anything that seems new or out of place.
In an effort to find a crack or opening large enough and suitable enough to peek through, Denair and Frankie follow the outer wall to the north and around the northwestern corner of what was once a small tower. A few feet further on they spot what appears to be an open, crumbling window situated in the northern wall of the building. Peeking inside they can see a small room that features a small, dirt-covered shrine and a stone staircase that wraps around the room, leading up to a now-nonexistent second floor. They can also see a large archway on the room's eastern wall.
Reasoning that the walls are likely to be sturdiest near the warped and twisted front doors, Saeran sends his grappling hook sailing through the air and hooks the stone wall with ease. He gives the rope a couple of cautionary tugs to make sure it will support his weight and begins climbing. Although the stonework is slowly crumbling away, it seems that this section of wall is relatively sturdy and he reaches the top with little trouble.
Carefully balancing himself atop the wall, Saeran can see down into what was once a large room. The entire ceiling and floor of this room is gone, with only five thick columns still standing amidst a dense gourd patch at the bottom of the large pit that remains. Saeran notices that some of the stonework near the top of the wall appears blackened and scorched as if by fire and this is further borne out by the few charred, burnt beams of wood lying among the gourd patch. The main doorway on the south side is flanked by two stone staircases that wrap around the interior of the west and east walls, much of which have crumbled to the ground. To the northwest is a square tower that’s only partially standing. Weeds have overgrown a doorway on the east wall, which breaks on the northeast corner for a wide set of stairs descending from the ground level. A rusty iron gate still stands at the center of the pit’s northern wall, rising from the densest portion of the gourd patch and fencing off a descending set of stairs.
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Brayden is ecstatic to have his faithful blade returned. He checks it for damage - just in case - then delicately slides it into its sheathe with a click. "Much better. Now I don't feel so vulnerable anymore, nor will I have to invent stories about card games and sightseeing in Cheliax - of all places..."
Brayden watches Saeran climb above the wall expertly. "Psst, what do you see up there?" He calls as he hurries along the perimeter towards Frankie and Denair. "Lazarus, brother, don't just stand there," the samsaran smirks. "The child is venturing forward alone! Well, with the tree-fox-creature er, thing, but surely they will benefit from the protection of our blades."
He steps past Frankie and Denair into the room with the stairs.
Denair shrugs and begins climbing right up the wall.
Once at the top, she carefully takes a look around.
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Dalen, thought still in a dark place after her time in Corentyn, struggles to keep a mischievous smile from her face as she feels Frankie and sneak some old crab shells into her braid. She walks around with them like that for a little while before she decides that Frankie must have thought himself scot free.
She leaves the old shells in a pile ahead of the group where Frankie is likely to see them and hides nearby. If it's pranks Frankie wants to play, then he'll just have to learn that turnabout is fair-play.
Dalen circles around the other way from Frankie after she sees him being followed by Brayden. She felt a little guilty at having withdrawn from the others and not getting to know them, but some part of her was still not right after he encounter with the guards, and she felt more...subdued.
Still, there was a job to do and she moves to one of the windows past where Saeren sits on the wall and peers in.
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Lazarus passes Frankie and follows Brayden into the crumbling northwest tower.
As a precaution, Lazarus casts a cantrip before anyone enters the central building. "Please, give me a moment to detect any magical auras.
The samsaran glances down at the gourd patch, "Interesting, I wonder what genus of plant life this might be... "
"Watch your step. The place might be trapped, and the foundation has long been exposed to the elements."