"Well if you help out you will get free room and board. Surely that is worth a few hours in the morning?"
Scrivner simply shrugs and sits down at an empty table and listens to the music.
Eostre sits a while and listens to the music Ameiko is playing on the samisen, intrigued by the exotic instrument and eating the meal that had ordered. While not ignoring the presence of the one-eyed man across from her, nor does she pester him with conversation just yet, content to enjoy her food and the music being played for now.
She glances around occasionally to see how other patrons are reacting to Ameiko's performance. Is this the kind of music that the city-dwellers are used to? It sounds very different to that of the Varisians or my people, but it is quite enjoyable... Eventually she mops up the last of the sauce from her bowl with the remaining bread, popping it into her mouth and eating it with evident satisfaction.
As she pushes the bowl away Eostre gives a polite belch to indicate her enjoyment of the meal, but not wishing to interrupt Ameiko's playing she keeps it small. When several of the townsfolk at nearby tables glance her way, frowns on their faces, she remembers that among these folk that isn't the right etiquette, causing her to bite her lip and shrug an apology to them.
Finally she turns her attention to the stranger seated opposite her. Speaking quietly, she says "Apparently that's not the way to tell your host the food is good around here. But then again you don't quite look like you're a local either. I introduced myself when I sat down, yet you have not given me your name. Is there a problem?"
To Scrivner Arandor replies, "yes, free room for a day would be excellent, I was just hoping to trek to see Quink, or peruse the ruins before meeting here at eight."
Arandor regrets not scribing "unseen servant" into his spellbook. then he would have been able to help with some repetitive, menial task while off exploring the ruins! Ah, glancing around, he realizes some of the folks he is becoming acquainted with may have arcane spell books. Once some trust is developed maybe some exchanges can be made.
"Well if we wake up at six we could probably get to Quink before working and he would hopefully be awake at that time."
"if he's not awake we can go to the tower. I would like to do some research at that site ... I have a great interest in Thasilonian lore and it appears some of you are scholars of the ancient civilization as well."
Menial labor? Do I look the part of a maidservant?
Awarthannen examines his attire a moment after Scrivner mentions getting free room and board. He then pats his relatively light coin pouch.
I certainly don't expect anyone else to pay my way, however. Perhaps there is work better suited to my skill set to be found here in town...
After her performance, Awarthannen catches a glimpse of Ameiko from behind as she bends over to clean a spot on the floor.
Then again...
"One musn't discount the benefits of a little humble labor. You are quite right, Master Scrivner. If Miss Ameiko requires some assistance, I would be most pleased to assist her."
Awarthannen raises an eyebrow at the Shoanti girl's expression of satisfaction, then continues.
"But yes, first things first. We shall meet this Quink first thing in the morn, or investigate the tower should he not be about yet. It is settled then? Good, now please excuse me a moment..."
The elf in black abruptly makes his way over to Ameiko when she seems to have a moment. "Madame, I understand you are in need of assistance with the festival tomorrow. I offer you my services." He makes a slight bow, despite expecting it to be a rather old fashioned ritual to her young human generation.
Listening to the music, although unusual, Charles could appreciate the sounds that the foreign woman was playing.
As Chod bids farewell, Charles takes the effort to thank the man for his time and wishes him well for the custom he'll most likely be receiving tomorrow.
As the woman in front of him pushes her bowl away and let's out a "polite" belch, Charles tries to avoid eye contact, but returns conversation regardless.
Well. It is not customary to act in that manner, and I feel it improper for a lady to act so.....animalistic, but I have no problem with you yourself.
Charles looks down towards his ale and turns his nose up at it slightly.
If you wish to have this, please do. The only alcoholic beverage I drink is red wine. The food was acceptable however.
"'Animalistic'? I should find such a comment offensive." sniffs the Shoanti woman. "Then again, you Chelish have strange customs yourselves, ones I find totally bizarre. But we could compare cultures all evening and reach no agreement." Eostre looks down at her stained and dusty clothing, and sniffs again, this time in distaste. "Besides there's no doubt I'm in need of a good wash. I must smell as badly as any wild animal right now."
Waving off the offer of his unwanted ale, Eostre stands and starts looking around for the halfling woman. "In any case, it's quite clear that you don't want conversation at the moment, so I'll impose on you no longer. Besides I've travelled a long way to get here, and I need a bed for the night almost as badly as I need a wash. Goodnight." Spying the inn's hostess at last, she gives a half-nod to the one-eyed stranger, picks up her pack and shield, and goes to ask about a bath and a room. As she passes by the table where Scrivner sits with the two elves, she calls out "Goodnight Scrivner. I'll guess we'll see each other at the festival in the morning."
Very well. You are probably right. I am of Chelish descent....somewhere down the line at least, but I am actually from Ustalav. I have travelled a long way in search of something only Sandpoint is said to bare. A creature of sorts, and one that reigns the countryside with terror. Of course, this could all be rumour, but that is why I am here.
As Eostre stands, Charles bows his head slightly.
If you do not wish to drink, then I will offer this ale to someone who does. However, good night to you and I hope you enjoy your time here.
I hope I do too, and this whole trip won't be a complete and utter waste of my time. The citizens seem friendly enough though, so I shall see what the morning brings.
Finishing his bowl of stew, Charles stands, taking his bowl and ale up to the bar, nodding and watching carefully with his right eye, as he passes those sitting at the other table, as they remain down here with him.
"Goodnight Eostre."
Scrivner looks to his new friends and adds.
"Well I had better get to sleep if I want to be ready at six tomorrow."
After saying so Scrivner gets up and goes to his room to await the morning.
After Ameiko's response and a compliment of her stew, Awarthannen as well retires to his room for the evening.
It's 6 AM and the sun is shining. If you are awake at this time, you in the common room waiting for your companions to head out to the Old Light,
Arandor could hardly sleep and has been down here for awhile. He has his journal and is writing in it, lying next to it is a long bundle of twine with a knot tied in it every ten feet. Looking around at whoever is here, "Well, if we want to get back by eight, we best get moving!"
Scrivner runs down the stairs almost bouncing with joy.
"We'll be back in time to help Miss Ameiko, but we're off to see the sage and/or tower. Bye."
With these words Scrivner heads over towards the door ready to leave as soon as everybody else is.
As Charles places his ale on the bar, he offers it to Ameiko and instead asks for a bottle of wine (accompanied by a glass).
I believe you are looking for help? I read your poster in the back there and would just like to offer my aid. What is it you require help with?
As Ameiko repeats what she said previously to the other people before him, the man takes the bottle of wine from the Tian woman.
I will be happy to discuss this with you more in the morning, but it's getting late now, so I bid you good night. Thank you for the entertainment and hospitality tonight. It's been insightful.
Charles waves to the woman as he heads upstairs to his chambers, pouring himself a glass of fine red wine and reading his journal for the last few hours he remained awake.
As morning came, the bright light hit the Lord's eyes, temporarily blinding him for half a second. Hearing movement from outside however, he sat up and swung his legs onto the floor.
A new day and with it, a new adventure. I wonder what today will bring.
To whomever is maning the bar/common room, We seek Quink ... an expert on Thasilonian lore. Could you perhaps lead us in the right direction?"
Eostre rises with the sun as usual and after washing and dressing makes her way down to the common room. She leaves her pack and shield in the room, but dons her armor and takes her weapons and valuables with her. Asking the halfling woman for some bread or porridge and something hot to drink, Eostre will consume her breakfast and then go for a brief walk along the docks, before returning to the Rusty Dragon in time to begin work for the day.
The dark elf emerges from a restful trance well before dawn. After preparing for his day, he heads to the common room. He waits patiently for his new companions to rise. An hour later, dawn's light begins to bathe the room in its orange glow.
Awarthannen gazes upon the morning light in stoic silence.
When Ameiko or one of the hired help emerges, Awarthannen orders a simple bowl of porridge and a glass of water to begin his day.
To those up with him earliest, "Indeed, we should be on our way as soon as possible. I do hope the others tarry not much longer."
"We have work to do."
To Arandor, "I do believe he resides near the Old Light, someone spoke last night. Though a more precise answer would certainly be most welcome."
Having obtained some rough directions those who are going, looks like four of the party from the prior night, head out of the Rusty Dragon, through the town square, up Main Street and then onto Tower Street.
Interested mainly in the Old Light Arandor is not spending any great effort to observe the city at this time though he will make note of any magic or lore shops he sees along the way.
Arandor's goal at the tower is to do some sketches of the tower, measure the size, and search for any thassilon writings or artifacts. If the party is lucky enough to get to speak with a Thassilonian expert then that would be superb as well!
Scrivner follows making note of all shops and magic shops along the way.
Eostre walks around the foreshore area of Sandpoint, looking about at the stores and homes, nodding politely to the other people who are up and about this early in the morning, and trying to get a feel for the place. I'll admit that the town looks better by morning, and it's not as crowded - yet - as it was yesterday afternoon. But in a few hours it's going to be as hectic as full way-moot of the entire Quah here.
Seeing Scrivner and the two elves from the inn last making their way along the street, she steps over and calls to him. "Good morning, Scrivner. Where are you and your two companions heading this early in the day? Some sort of secret elvish business?" Eostre takes the opportunity to scrutinize the trio, since she didn't pay all that much attention to them the previous evening.
"Not really secret we're just going to meet the old man Quink and see The Old Light. Care to join us?"
Awarthannen accompanies Arandor and Scrivner along the road with an air of soberness, in contrast to his companions' eager jubilance. He as well takes mental note of all shops and other points of interest along the way.
"So, Master Scrivner. In what fields of study do you specialize, pray tell?"
On encountering Eostre along the way, Awarthannen wonders to himself.
Of what assistance this savage girl will provide, I have no notion...
With a polite, slight bow, "We did not have the chance to meet last night. I am Awarthannen, at your service."
Taking a little longer than normal to get ready, Charles dons his armour, slicks back his shoulder length hair and washes his eye patch before putting it back on.
I wonder what history this small seaside town has to offer? Perhaps I can uncover some long hidden secrets in that tall ruined building I saw on my way in.
Heading downstairs, fully equipped with his sword and shield, donning his jet black armour and looking ready for anything with the red cape and huge sword on his back, Charles rings the reception bell, hoping to be greeted by Ameiko where he can acquire further details into the type of help the Tian woman requires.
Ameiko shows her head downstairs. The room is completely deserted, save Bethana and the two of you. "Can I help you? I heard the bell ring."
"Who is this Quink? And why care so much about the old ruin here?" asks Eostre, quite obviously somewhat puzzled. "What I mean is that there are heaps of rubble, forgotten idols and abandoned dungeons all over Varisa. I just don't see anything particularly special about this one, but I'm willing to be educated on that point." She points over her shoulder towards the Old Light with her thumb as she speaks.
In response to the grey-skinned elf's greeting, she nods and introduces herself to Scrivner's companions. "Eostre of the Skoan-Quah, if that means anything to you. I'd take you for a bunch of scholars, if it wasn't for your arms and armor, Master Awarthannen. So are you all here to investigate the Old Light, not simply for the festival?"
To herself she thinks; Mother of souls, if this has anything to do with why the spirits brought me here, a hint would be nice right about now...?
Scrivner looks at Awarthannen and says.
"I'm a student of the alchemical arts and you?"
Scrivner gets a gleam in his eye as he begins to talk about the Old Light.
"We The Old Light is an ancient ruin made by people who had command over magic that has not been seen for millennium. They were viewed as an advanced civilization, but are for some reason gone now. I wish to study them to unlock their secret arts of science and magic."
Scrivner looks at Awarthannen and says.
"I'm a student of the alchemical arts and you?"Scrivner gets a gleam in his eye as he begins to talk about the Old Light.
"We The Old Light is an ancient ruin made by people who had command over magic that has not been seen for millennium. They were viewed as an advanced civilization, but are for some reason gone now. I wish to study them to unlock their secret arts of science and magic."
"Ten millenium!" Arandor interjects excitedly. "The entire Varisian coast is riddled with ruins from this ancient civilization ... the Thassilonians. I too hope to further my understanding of the arcane arts by understanding their control of magic."
As you make your way towards the Old Light, the town is bustling with people setting up for the festival. The Old Light stands about 50 feet tall over the cliff face which looks down upon the sea. A modest looking house lies by the ruin, which must obviously be Quinks.
As Ameiko heads down the stairs, asking what Lord Bloodgrave wanted, the man stands proud with a pleasant smile on his face, replying to the woman with a well mannered tone.
Last night if you recall, I said I would speak to you in more depth today...this morning about that which you require assistance with. I was going to dress down today, putting my armour and weaponry aside so I could take a casual walk around this town and explore the sights it has to offer, but instead have prepared myself for the worst, as I am unsure on what it is exactly you would like help with. Do you wish me to slay a beast, or is your request a little more....decent than that? I only ask because with such an old tower residing in this town, it would come as no surprise to me if you claimed a presence of unholy creatures within this region. One in particular actually drew me to this town in the first place.....The Sandpoint Devil. Have you heard of it? asks the dark and pale figure.
Awarthannen replies to both Eostre's and Scrivner's queries with an air of pride... the more observant might detect a hint of arrogance.
"Indeed, I am a scholar of some reputation in the fields of historical and arcane lore. I've acquired a keen interest in Thassilonia in particular over the past few dozen years of my life, and have traveled far to acquire a well-founded education of the subject matter. I am also a lifelong student of the arts of both war and wizardry alike, both of which my kin have garnered a renown for."
To emphasize the word "war," the dark elf pats his longsword's hilt as he speaks it.
To Scrivner and Arandor, "We are certainly here in common purpose then. For I too seek to unlock the ancient mysteries of the Runelords, their knowledge and powers."
Spotting the nearby house as they approach, Awarthannen states the obvious. "Master Quink's, I believe."
"Well we don't have much time, so lets get this done."
With these words Scrivner walks up to the front door of the house and if there is any sort of bell or other ringing device he uses that. Otherwise, he simply knocks loudly at the door.
"Well then, if you don't mind, I may just accompany you. It can't hurt to learn more about this town." says Eostre, following the elvish trio up to the scholar's abode. And there's always a chance I'll learn something relevant to the 'Ancient evil' the shamans were nattering on about... if there's any such thing here at all.
After a few moments of knocking, a balding middle aged man answers the door. "Please come in. What can I do for you? Can I offer you some tea?"He leads you to a sitting room where you all sit down. A golden tabby cat brushes against Arandor's leg.
Scrivner grateful for some tea since he hasn't eaten yet accepts and says.
"Well Master Quink me and my companions were wondering if you could tell us a little bit about the Old Light."
"Wonderful! It's not often I get people inquiring about the Old Light. Well it was built about ten thousand years ago during the time of ancient Thassilon before the Starfall. Thassilon was a great empire, evident by the sheer magnitude of ruins they left behind. I spent a year studying the lost lore of the empire, making me one of the few, if not only, experts on the matter."
He serves you all mugs full of hot tea, then sits back down. "I could go on and on about the matter if I don't watch myself. Is there anything specific you would like to know?"
Ameiko laughs. "Nothing so heroic! I was hoping to get help preparing food for the festival, though I have no doubt you would be more than capable if I needed someone to do some beast slaying. If you didn't know, all of the inns in town are serving their best dishes for lunch, and it's going to be quite a job feeding so many people. "
"So the Sandpoint devil is a legend that's been around for over a decade," she says. "I know not to trust in such things blindly, but there is quite a bit of evidence attesting to its existence. People who go braving into the Brinestump Marsh or the Devil's Platter on a misty moonless night often report glimpsing something that looks like a skeletal horse with bat wings and a mouth full of razor sharp teeth. When people go to investigate later they find charred half chewed up animal carcasses in the same area. One woman found hoof prints that smelled of brimstone along the eaves of her roof. I've heard different theories about the origin of the Sandpoint devil. A popular one is that he was birthed by a woman bearing the curse by Lamashtu, the goddess of demons and monstrous births. "
Although she accompanies the elvish trio into Quink's sitting room and accepts a mug of tea with thanks, Eostre quickly realises that she's out of her depth listening to the scholar and the others converse. They're sitting here calmly talking about events from over ten millennia ago about which they can know nothing for certain. It seems a futile exercise to me - I marvel at the kind of mind that can be fascinated with such fantasy. Nevertheless she tries to maintain a straight face and pay attention to the discussion, faintly hoping that something may crop up which is more obviously relevant to her own purpose in being in Sandpoint.
"Thank you mister Quink ... I am wondering first if this tower is related to the other towers North of here that seem to run along the Varisia coastline? None of the other ruins are as complete as the old light. I hope to take measurements today to compare to my notes of the others to see if they are of similar size. Second, what do you know of it's use as a lighthouse? I know that is what the locals believe the purpose of the tower to be and being on a coastline that seems certainly likely ... but it's SO large! Much larger than a simple light house would need to be."
"Awarthannen, at your service," the dark elf greets Quink with a slight bow. "Thank you," as he takes his cup of tea in hand, and takes his seat.
As Scrivner and Arandor take the lead in querying Quink, Awarthannen listens carefully while taking note of what he sees around him in Quink's home; particularly, any books, scrolls, or scroll cases. He also observes the tabby for signs of sentient behavior, as a familiar would possess.
"I apologize ... my name is Arandor Verion. I too am a scholar of ancient thassilonia, but by no means your equal sir Quink!"
Quink has various books and pieces of parchment in untidy piles around his house. There are many pieces of paper covered in drawing of the Old Light. He seems to have been writing in a leather bound tome on the coffee table. The tabby doesn't seem to show any signs of being Quink's familiar.
"You're an observant man, Arandor. I had the same thought myself. Most people assume it was a light house, but they are all wrong. The Old Light was once an engine of war, which cast balls of fire down from the heavens! I have it all written down in my notebook."
He picks up the open book on the table and flips back to a page with a drawing of an ancient carving apparently depicting the Old Light itself. A bright fire appears to be emanating from the top. What appear to be burning ships float in the ocean under a starry night sky.
"You see? Most scholars think this depicts the Earthfall, the star stone, and the fall of Thassilon. I've studied the Light for quite some time. It was in ruins, by my reckoning, a long time before the star stone fell. How could it not be clearer? This was not a light house, it was a weapon meant to rain fire on it's enemies."
"If it was a weapon then what for? Was this town a particularly large Thassilonian area, or was it something else important?"
"My word ... that image depicts the tower, what, five-hundred feet tall! They must have utilized arcane magic to build such a structure ... what do you know of their Rune Magic? And who were their enemies that necessitated such a weapon! So many questions!"
"Aren't there always, Master Arandor? I don't know very much about rune magic. I have never have gotten around to learning anything of the arcane arts. I'm too busy with academia, I suppose."
He turns to Scrivner. "In answer to your question, from what we know, Thassilon was by ruled by seven Runelords which most scholars believe embodied the seven virtues of rule. Through my own research, however, I believe these seven lords more accurately embodied the seven deadly sins. I believe that the Lost Coast may have been the border between the domains of two of these Runelords. It's highly possible that they could have been at war with each other at some point."
He scoffs and then continues. "I've written a book on Thassilon and my findings if you would possibly be interested. People interested in the subject are few and far between, and most of my colleagues think my ideas to be crackpot speculations at best. I fear I will be long dead before I get the recognition I deserve. "
"What seven sins, and seven virtues were they supposed to be?"
"Well let's see... I have a list of them in here somewhere." He looks through the notebook a little before finding it. "The seven virtues were: Charity, Temperance, Generosity, Love, Humility, Zeal, and Kindness. The seven deadly sins were: Envy, Gluttony, Greed, Lust, Pride, Sloth, and Wrath."
"I would love to look at any book you have on Thassilonia Master Quink. Would you mind if I copied it?"
Awarthannen appears to retain a keen interest in Quink's informative answers while thinking about them to himself...
I've read about these "war machine" speculations before. A mere carving alone is trivial in proving such a theory, however...
"Fascinating. Master Quink, I wonder what other evidence you may have discovered to support the theory that the Old Light was an arcane war machine? Have you found anything of import in the ruin itself, perchance? Something a small team of scholars, such as ourselves, might locate upon investigating the Old Light for ourselves?"
As another question is answered, Awarthannen ponders to himself as he retrieves one of his tomes from his satchel.
Hmpf, sins indeed. Certainly sloth is most deplorable at least... Wait... Seven virtues? Seven sins?
Awarthannen opens his book to a page featuring a seven-pointed ancient Thassilonian symbol. Showing this to Quink, he asks him another question.
"It occurs to me, Master Quink, that this seven-pointed star, an ancient symbol of Thassilon, is perhaps related to the seven virtues and vices. What do you know of this symbol? And there were also seven Runelords, as you say, and were there not seven realms of Thassilon under each's purview? Seven appears to be a number of crucial importance to Thassilon... how intriguing..."