Aurora shrugs at Tragershen's lament, "It happens. It is hardly your fault."
-----
At the Ferry, she return Sawen's hug and pats the woman on the back. The Mysterious Hooded Figure lurking in the corner of the Boar's Board catches her attention enough to keep a solid, steady stare on the mysterious person... but unless they do anything unusual, she is content to leave them to their Ominous Privacy. Or to Anzath, as it may happen.
She hides her disappointment at how long away the boat's arrival is—despite her best efforts, the disappointment is still palpable.
While the Nethysian does not go around preaching or proselytizing unprovoked, she wears her holy symbol and two-toned hair (bleeding into three-toned as her pale blonde roots grow back in) openly, and if any of the town's residents happen to need the aid of a cleric... she's around. The lack of magic and magical training available for the residents of the town is almost painful to her.
Aurora causes a bit of a stir. People who are used to Ulman Dark's stinging poultices and bitter medicines flock to her, begging for healing for bumps, bruises, cuts (several of these after the incident described in the prior post), broken limbs, and chronic illnesses.
The whole place seems energized as the little wounds of life become less pressing. Everyone wants her to stay forever (except Ullman, who whines and groans). If she tries to teach about Nethys, she even finds a few minds that still long for more information about the world beyond. Sawen is one of these. Nethys' sermons (I imagine) are probably a lot like mini-lectures on various topics, and Sawen becomes a regular pupil of sorts.
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Aurora is polite enough to leave alchemy out of her curriculum for poor Ulman's sake, and focuses instead on basic history and entry-level magical theory & explanations on the schools and subschools of magic. She expects Sawen to be able to list those back to her when she returns from Riddleport.
Any members of her own group or Elma's group which are so much as seen by her during one of these impromptu sermons are at serious risk of being pulled in and asked to offer a perspective on the topic being discussed.
Tragershen will agree to bring back supplies for Ullman from Riddleport, as long as they aren't anything too exotic or dangerous.
He'll purchase enough ink for a few key spells, putting off scribing the others until they get to Riddleport.
Bedlam slaps the Wizard on his back.
Be nutt'n ta bother 'bout. You be our Wizard! We got you back!
Bedlam happily scribes formulas into his book also.
Good idea, elf. Me can pass dem out ta our group.
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His strength continuing to return to him, Brand re-enters Zelkor's Ferry like a conquering hero. His already lively personality rises to a new level, with boastful yet eloquent storytelling shared each night at the tavern. From his flying assault with Joden on the bandits who had taken their camp to fearlessly facing down the demon-cursed black skeleton, or disarming the magical trap and riding the falling block to recovering the glowing skull from the pool, Brand accents each moment to show his bravery, heroism, and unending luck. He uses Gelver's mad rants and reenactments surprisingly well to accentuate his storytelling, and seems to be throwing more than a little charm at Sawen as she flirts with him in turn.
Perhaps surprisingly to the others, Brand's stories also present each of them in a heroic light, from the timely arrival of Bedlam charging into battle against the worgs to Tragershen blinding half the would-be robbers with a single spell. Though he paints himself at the center of his stories, the others note that he never claims another of his companion's deeds as his own, and gives them all great praise and honor in the stories.
Perhaps to Anzath's great displeasure, her lecturing of Brand regarding his comments about her and Tal seem to have the opposite effect, as he whispers of a budding romance between the two at several points in his stories, though never in any vulgar terms (nor does he in fact mention either of them fleeing in fear). Quite the opposite, he paints them as two kindred souls, both of whom lost their allies to the horrors of Rappan Athuk, and yet both found their way to the same company, and perhaps to an understanding companion in one another.
At some point during Brand's daily wanderings, he likely finds himself drawn into one of Aurora's lectures on faith and magic. He chuckles, poignantly replying, "Aye, ye cen lurn magik throo years o' study, or ye cen devote yerself to a god, an' maybe day will answer ye prayers. Or, ye cen get lucky just playin' wit magiks, an' POOF, be able teh cast spells, like me!" On cue, he waves his hands theatrically and touches a lingering wound on his arm, causing it to immediately heal up!
Anzath let’s Ippolit know that they might have some work for him when they get back to Riddleport, then buys him another drink.
While Sawen continues hanging around Talathel when she can, it's clear that she's starting to pay a lot of attention to Brand. She loves his stories, and can be heard retelling them to Bristleback behind the bar.
She's also taken up singing again, and on rainy, windy evenings, she sings her favorite tune (some of you have heard it before), "The Fear" :
The host, he says that all is well
And the fire-wood glow is bright;
The food has a warm and tempting smell,—
But on the window licks the night.
Pile on the logs... Give me your hands,
Friends! No,— it is not fright...
But hold me... somewhere I heard demands...
And on the window licks the night.
The salt-and-pepper beard of the innkeeper keeps time with his laughter, and he's starting to treat Brand with a little more respect, himself--occasionally he drops a line to the halfing such as "You have to be willing to sacrifice to keep the things you love safe in this world, young man. Sometimes that changes a person, sometimes the changes are deep, lasting, irrevocable. But with change comes power, too. Here's a yarrow and juniper lager for ye, Brand, and if you ever want to chat about life, sacrifice, and power, let me know."
Meanwhile...
Ippolit raises his glass and thanks Anzath. "If I haven't been hired by someone else, I'll be at your service. I'm handy enough in a fight, and I'm not above manual labor--whatever you need, so long as I can come back here when we're finished."
Bedlam does what any dwarf worth his beard would do: he drinks, dances, and sings...badly, but with much enthusiasm!
Talathel does not refuse Sawen's company, or sparring should she be interested, he also does not return her flirting. Talathel's tight focus on matters elven and martial is difficult to break.
He will encourage Sawen and others who seem interested that there are opportunities in work up to - and possibly into - Rappan Uthuk, mentioning such things as Elma's enterprises. If asked questions about his exploits, he will describe them in factual tones, trying not to embellish or diminish his contributions.
He does avoid mentioning anything which would make his companions less impressive, such as Anzath's flight.
The more Tal politely declines Sawen's advances, the more she seems to hang around Brand. If Brand should ask why, she says something like, "So few who go come back. Where are Chases Moonlight, Hakram, and Joden now? And there have been others before them, so many others. I need someone who comes back. Or stays." She'd then blush and, well, not scurry away--she's too big and strong to scurry properly. But she's nimble enough that her stomping retreat upsets no tankards, treads on no toes.
When she ends up scurstomping towards a table where Tal is telling Ippolit and some mercenaries about the dungeon, and when Tal graciously includes her as a known skilled warrior by offering her a place in his scheme, she responds with a vigorous refusal to venture into the dungeon.
"My place is here. The Bristlebacks have held the Ferry for generations, and not once have we set foot in that foul place. I hope Brand never goes back there again, I hope dear bright Aurora never goes there again... Tragershen, who is so brave--never again! And your new friends, all valiant and fine, don't they have something to live for? You got your treasure. You have your glowing skulls and everruning clocks and magic daggers, what more do you want?!"
Bristleback comes out from behind the bar and puts an enormous arm around his daughter. "Hey, there, who's squealing up a storm in my fine establishment? You can't keep them here, dear. The Bristlebacks see them come and go, but we remain." Should Brand be nearby, he'd catch a significant look from the innkeeper.
Talathel nods, thinking that he understands.
"That explains it. Your duty is to the Ferry. Ours is to venture into the dark places, for any number of reasons. But I for one believe that we can keep returning, until we make the darkness less so. I am a warrior, so I must fight."
"As if there's not enough fighting here! You weren't around for the kobolds. Or the cultists--the ogres--the goblins. Tomorrow, it will be the Wolf Queen, for all we know, or the hosts of Magnimar or Riddleport. They wiped out the coastal towns and villages, and we're only still here because we're so far upriver... it's not the fighting I detest, it's the waste of fighting. But it's always the same. I know you won't stay."
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Nine days pass. Many words are spoken, hearts are bared, spooky monopolies in the medical profession are shaken, and, of course, many many barrels of ale are drained to the dregs. But, finally, the Laughing Dolphin arrives. Captain Lamb and his sailors report:
Seeing a massive pod of orca whales. But no harm was done by, or to, the whales. They are very happy to see you all. After unloading their cargo of supplies, after disembarking a few passengers, they load their city-bound prizes: a shipment of onyx from upriver, destined for the component pouches of ambitious necromancers all across the continent. And you.
The journey home is against the prevailing winds, so everyone settles in and braces their stomachs for the lurching tacks of the Riddleport journey.
And yet, there is victory even in this. You're heading back to civilization.
Sharks. Lots of them. Good thing you're on a boat.
You'll be in town soon...
The dwarf grumbles the entire journey.
After they are at sea, Tragershen will talk to them all on deck. He holds up an agate that they found. "This is a Spy Eye. They are crafted in sets of five. Using one, you can spy on the rest. This one is now too far from the others to work."
"When we took down Yaza, she had strange periscopes that seemed to look at different parts of the complex. And when Anzath used the ring, I am sure I heard laughter ringing through the halls. I think we are being watched down there. We should expect worshipers of Orcus will know we are coming, and be prepared. And beyond that, if we start finding success, they may send assassins after us. We should be wary, even when we are away from that place."
"Tragershen, that is an astute deduction and I strongly suspect an accurate one. The servants of demons certainly have no qualms about murdering us in our sleep or in a tavern, if it suits their cause and resources."
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Brand had been in the tavern during Sawen's outburst, and clearly caught her father's gaze on him. He decided not to step into the situation that evening, and was rather subdued compared to other days.
The next morning, well after the rising hours when the tavern room was quiet, Brand found Sawen. After a bit of playful flirting, he climbed up on a bar stool and sat down on the bar, putting him at eye level with the young lady. "Sawen, lass, ye tink I came 'ere fer a bit o' shiny gold, o' magical rings teh adorn me 'ands? Sure, I tell gran' stories eh entertain yer patrons, it's in me nature. But a treasure 'untin' glory seeker? I tought ye tought better o' me den dat. I cum from nottin'. Me mah an' pah, dey were slaves in Cheliax. An' I was born teh dem dare. We served cruel masters, dat consorted wit devils an' dare ilk. Me pah, one day 'e angered deh master's son - gave 'im to a pet monster teh watch 'im be torn apart. Me mah fled wit me dat night, an' after sum time, made it teh Westcrown. She 'oped teh book passage on a vessel leavin' the accursed place. Dat never 'appened. Took a knife in deh gut. I was seven, an' alone on deh streets of deh City o' Twoilight."
Brand pauses for a moment, cocking his head but still looking at Sawen. With a long sigh, he continues. "Somehow, I made me own way in dose years. Beggin' an' scavengin', an' hidin' in lil holes no one ken follow ye down. I got bigger, well a bit, an' ran wit a gang o' teeves, til dey got pinched. By den, I could manage well on me own, an' 'ad never liked dare tactics, so I kept teh meself mostly. Shared me spoils with deh young lads an' lasses like I'd been, de urchins an' orphans. But still, deh rulers o' Westcrown were like me old masters, cruel devil worshippers who plagued deh lil people. I cudn't change dat, least, not yet. But maybe, if I got a lot better at sneakin' an' fightin', an' I found some friends, maybe den I cud make a dif'rence. So I set out teh do just dat. Managed teh win me way on teh a ship dat 'appened teh be 'eadin' teh Magnimar, an' off I went."
Brand scratches the back of his head, then chuckles a bit. "Got meself in teh a scrap or two pretty quickly dare, an' was out o' dat city in a flick. Ran in teh sum 'adventurers' in a roadside tavern on a rainy noight. Dey were 'eadin' up teh Riddleport, an' from dare were plannin' to raid deh temple o' sum demon-cult. Well, sounded like roight propah trainin' fer me plan, an' a few adventurers brave enough teh face demon cultists in dare own temple, well dey cud be roight good friends. Dat temple... well, it ended up bein' Rappan Attuk, an' de folks I arrived in town wit were dose adventurers. Sad teh see so many of dem gone, only Aurora an' Tragershen from de original company are left. It's terrifyin' down dare, it is. But, I must face it. Fer in it's terror, it can make me de man I need teh become. An' if, in preparin' teh face deh lords o' Cheliax, I kin destroy Orcus' un'oly temple-dungeon an' its many 'orrors, den so be it. Dare's no place in Golarion fer such evils."
With a smirk, he reaches up and touches her face. "But lass, ye need no' fear, cause... I ain't dyin'. I got far teh much teh do. An', I'd 'ave ye by me side trough it, if ye can stan' me messy mop o' 'air."
Brand leans against the rail of the vessel as they talk. "Oi, I tink yer roight. Dare 'ounds be chasin' us down dare in deh water! Look at dare teeth!" He smiles while pointing down to the sharks swimming around the side of the vessel. "In all seriousness, if demon-worshippers be anyting like devil-worshippers, I'd 'ave teh agree. Dare all a roight dirty lot, an' we need teh keep our wits about us!"
@Brand: Sawen listens to Brand's tale, her eyes glistening with sympathy and love. When he offers himself, she puts both hands in his thick hair and digs in for leverage--the whole bar cheers for such a kiss!
She runs to her room and gets a golden ring in the form of a spiral. She blushes and slips it onto Brand's finger. "It's the Bristleback engagement ring, if you'll have it. Our tradition is to celebrate an engagement on the full moon, and then to get married the moon after. Captain Lamb! Bring this man back to me by next moon, will ya?"
The captain, already planning to return around the next moon, tips his cap.
Bristleback shakes Brand's hand and gives him a hard look. "You'd best return, lad. I'll understand if you don't, and will try to make it go easy on Sawen. But you're a lucky one, and I think you'll come back. Wear the ring to bed. It grants dreams. If you can't handle the dreams, send back the ring, will ya? It was forged six generations ago by Sawen's many-greats grandmother."
Brand will begin to have dreams of rushing through the Forest of Hope in the darkness, galloping on four powerful legs and cloven hooves, digging up savory mushrooms with glorious tusks...
@The Boat
Your return to Riddleport! How tall, the buildings! How busy the streets! A single merchant here might have as many customers in his shop as the entire population of Zelkor's Ferry. Elma gets everyone a room at a nice inn, then explains the divvying of the loot:
"I'll be using my connections and talents to sell our treasure at what will be above-market-value. You may all select items to keep at this time. Each you withhold will lower the party's total payout, naturally, which will be deducted from the withholding individual's share of the cash I'll distribute when I return. I suspect I can get between 75-125% the price of a new, custom item from collectors of Rappanacana, not to mention what I manage to raise from investors, so keep that in mind. Then, I'll give you the addresses of the best craftsfolk in the city--they know me, and they'll rush your orders through. Tragershen, if you want a workshop, I have a guy who makes wondrous items who'd be happy to loan you some space while we are here. Aren't you glad we partnered up, now?" She grins. This is her element.
Tragershen gives Elma a bit of parchment with neat rows of writing on it.
"As promised, this is the story behind the ring that grants an air bubble. Someone interested it as a collector may value it."
When they unpack the spellbooks, Tragershen says "Bedlam and I will need some time with these to extract some of their knowledge for ourselves. After that, you can sell with the rest. This one here" he says, opening up the kobold's book "Has an interesting discovery. This page has a spell that allows a wizard to bark a command and have it obeyed. I have only ever heard of this as a spell granted by the gods to their clerics. It may have a higher value than normal given its novelty."
When they get to the magic agate, he'll say "I suggest we hold this for now. It may give us some intelligence on foes and obstacles to come in Rappan Athuk. And when we collect the other four in the set, it will be worth far more as a collection than this one as a novelty."
Tragershen will claim from the loot: Pearl of Power (1st level), Scroll: Fly, Scroll:Invisibility, Scroll: Web.
The first day in Riddleport, Tragershen will make sure he picks up the supplies that Ullman asked for so that he has that obligation met.
Anzath listens carefully to Tragershen. "I vill tell de temple dis. Perhapz dey vill pay more to have all scrying devicez destroyed."
Anzath hands over the jewels and things she found, and suggests they sell the plate armor. Once Elma has left to do her thing, Anzath seeks the Temple of Serenrae.
"Depending on availability of magic elven weaponry, I would either obtain that, or keep the enchanted dagger."
"And Brand - congratulations on your impending nuptials."
Bedlam will copy with Tragershen at the inn.
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Aurora nods her head along to Elma's words, her expression steady; she only just barely trusts Elma enough to not run away with the loot and the money. But she'll trust her. For now. The cleric shows little interest in the rest of the loot, but she'll grab the scroll of summon monster IV in case they happen to need a monster summoned. One really never knows when they'll need that.
"Riddleport is a nice city. Should be able to buy some quality equipment once the items are sold and our coin purses heftened... and perhaps some engagement gifts for our poor dear couple," Aurora turns a teasing look that is almost a leer onto Brand. "Did you mean for that to happen, or did she just... take it too far?"
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In her joy, Sawen picks Brand up from the bar as she kisses him, much to the jubilation of all watching. When she finally ends the kiss and sets him down, he wobbles with stars in his eyes. Though a man, the lad had clearly never been kissed like that before!
When Sawen returned with the ring and slid it onto his finger, his expression turned to one of surprise. Yet, it was not the surprised look of one looking to escape the situation that had just occurred, but rather, of confusion in the reality of a moment that was never to exist in his life. The ring was obviously too large for his finger, so he tore a shred of cloth from his pouch and looked it inside the base of the ring to make it fit. Then he smiled back at her, and somehow, while still standing on the bar, grabbed Sawen and half dipped her into another kiss. It was an amusing sight, or would have been, were the emotions not so visibly genuine.
In the moments after, as Bristleback jubilantly shook Brand's hand, the young halfling smiled up at he giant of a man. "Oi, I'll be back alroight! Got a bride teh marry now! Wait, so... does dis mean I git teh call ye Pah?" He chuckles as he asks the big innkeep.
-----
In the morning, Brand finds Bristleback privately for a few moments. "Sir, umm, ye warned me about deh dreams. I figured dey'd be, well, scary, or sumting. But, maybe it didno' work fer me. I tink I was sum animal, in a bee-utiful forest. An', I was 'ungry. An' dare were mushrooms! I cud smell 'em, like I've ne'er smelled 'em 'efore! It was glorious! An' I dug 'em up, an' ate a whole lot o' 'em." Brand abruptly stops, realizing he was getting excited. It was strange, but so real, and delicious... Shaking his head, he looked back up at the innkeep. "Is dat okay? I didno' fail sum family test, did I?"
Brand had been rather jovial during the ship's journey to Riddleport, even moreso than his normal self. He spent a good deal of time telling tales of their escapades to the sailors, who no doubt enjoyed the entertainment.
Drinking a big mug of ale as his companions determine what all to sell, Brand looks up at the comments made in his direction. "Tank ye, Tal. I'm a gettin' married?! I dunno if I believe it. An' Aurora, I confess, I was surprised by de ring, I'll confess teh dat. I like deh lass, roight propah, an' was 'opin' fer sum kind o' future wit 'er. But, I meen, 'ad ye asked me when we left 'ere a few weeks past if I saw meself gettin' 'itched soon, or ever, I wudda laughed at ye. But den, dat's cause a me past. I was born a slave, an' lived as gutter trash, dare's no 'ope in life fer one such as me teh live deh normal life. But de lass, she sees in me sumting, an' well, maybe I ken be dat man one day. She knows me goals, an' proposed all de same. So, I guess I'm gettin' married in two moons. Ye all best do yer darnedest teh keep me alive, lest ye face Bristleback's ire!"
The ghost of a smile dances on Talathel's face as he replies.
"You are a savvy trapfinder and keen blade-wielder. We would be foolish to let you die through negligence. But for what it is worth, I will cover your flanks to the best of my considerable ability."
Elma returns from her errands, all grins. A squad of armed men carry sacks. Each sack has a name on it. "I sold what I could and borrowed more than I ever thought I could! It's great! You each get a bag--if you held back treasure, I decreased your share proportionately. You each get a bonus from the Bourse Trading Company's fund, too."
Anzath: 850
Aurora: 2500
Bedlam: 2850
Brand: 2725
Talathel: 2850
Tragershen: 2000
At some point Anzath heads to the Temple of Sarenrae and pushes her way past the desk jockeys to the middle managers. Upon producing her tale of a tunnel collapse and a dead Paladin, she's met with skepticism, and flipped up to the top--the high priests and priestesses.
In a domed room lit by everburning flames, Anzath (and anyone she brings along) will present the scalp of Yaza Mongro. The suspicion that she's just a lying darkelf is quickly put to rest by Zone of Truth. Then, Scrying susses out the details. The high priestess starts smashing little silver mirrors. First, she scrys on her paladin. Her Darkvision means that she can see his corpse under the pile of rocks. She sees a bit of the cleric nearby. She frowns. "Stalker, you should have organized a recovery while you were at the site. But that can be arranged. Now, this Yaza Mongro." She lifts the horrid scalp. Another mirror tinkles to the floor. Another frown. "Stalker, why is the foul one still walking this plane? Did you not burn the body and scatter the ashes in the sea, as I instructed my paladin? One cannot merely slay the servants of Orcus in his own house, without Him raising them again!" She describes seeing a madwoman in a turban wandering endless hallways, followed by a train of armed men in red and black, and skeletons in ancient armor... "Sarenrae does not pay bounties for... hair." The priestess hands the scalp to a retainer, who scurries off.
Tragershen hefts the forty pound bag of gold and grimaces. "Well, I shall need to remedy that first and foremost."
When the group goes their separate ways, he is quick to head to the shops that offer the exotic and esoteric. When he returns, the materials hardly seem like they are a fair exchange for forty pounds of gold: a bolt of cloth and another of leather; pouches of strange powders and vials of bizarre liquids. Despite the apparent uneven exchange, Trag seems quite pleased.
@Tal: Two days at the magic smith should do it. 2000 GP is the standard price for a +1 on a mwk weapon, so I think it costs that.
@Brand
"Is dat okay? I didno' fail sum family test, did I?"
Bristleback roars with laughter, claps Brand on the shoulder, and says, "Not by a long shot! You'll do, lad! You'll do, and then some. You come back, now, y'hear? We'll discuss matters by the light of the full moon."
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Once Elma has distributed the coin among the group, Aurora nods her thanks, "Much appreciated. Let us hope the deeper depths of Rappan Athuk prove as fruitful as these earlier ones, that the coin may keep flowing," she says, though her tone is more polite than eager; the notion of her holy mission being used as a 'get fabulously rich quick' scheme by a merchant is just a bit offputting. But the coin Elma and her contacts bring in will help it...
The cleric will go ahead and pitch in for the Wand of Cure Light Wounds pot before setting out into the city for some shopping of her own. When she returns, it is with a pair of beautifully matched and etched platinum rings , several pounds of powered silver , and a number of other reagents
The rings, she'll explain when the group is reasonably gathered, are for a spell granted by her devotion to Nethys. "A focus, you see; a sort of physical tether between me and the target. It will allow me to offer them protection, and to sustain some of the wounds they would otherwise receive on their behalf. It may come in handy, but now to decide who shall bear the other ring and my protection— and I am just now realizing how awful much like a proposal this sounds. It's not a proposal. It's a spell, honest."
The next day, after her prayers, she sets to some crafting work of her own. Half the powdered silver is used up in producing a flask of holy water via Bless Water; much of it seems to dissipate in glowing sparks that sink to the bottom of the container before vanishing. The end result certainly does not weigh as much as the pounds of silver that went into it. Curious.
Then she sets about working some Masterwork Transformation on her breastplate, using the 150gp of components. Perhaps she is fond of that particular breastplate, or perhaps she just believes it will be slightly more economical to upgrade it and take it in to get enchanted than to pawn it and buy a whole new enchanted breastplate; either way, when she is finished with the spell she takes the newly-improved piece of armor out into Riddleport to find an armorer who can enchant it into a shiny +1 Breastplate
And the day after she'll make up another flask of holy water with her remaining powdered silver.
Bedlam spends his time drinking, singing and brewing.
Anzath, of course, scowls at the priestess. She'd very much like to give critfisher a taste of this woman's blood, but that probably wouldn't go over well. Moreover, she knows they're right. She should have taken precautions, been more thorough. Now she'll have to inform her comrades that the task isn't over. What's worse, she'll have to return to them empty handed. Anzath wrestles with her anger and self loathing for a bit before straightening her back and addressing the priestess.
"Ve recovered spyglazz from Yaza'z office. It doez not vork at distance, but my vizard beliefz ve kan use it to scry deeper into dungeon. He also beliefz dere should be more, dat det devicez vere made in set. You vill be interested in set of scryballz, yez?"
The priests and priestesses of Sarenrae grimace. "No. We don't need demon's filth here... even when it takes useful forms..."
She narrows her eyes at Critfisher, the favored weapon of the goddess in one sense--the tool of darkness in another.
"Stalker, we regret your errors, but after the death of our missionaries, these mistakes are understandable. We are still concerned about the proximity of the Dungeon of Graves to the good and innocent. Ancient prophecies carved into the very bedrock beneath the first temple of Sarenrae to stand in this spot, a structure older than the city itself, warns of evils that could emerge and destroy the very earth. I am loath to part with more trained and holy men and women, who may be needed if, or when, these things emerge. You are a soldier of fortune. You respect only gold, and you... suit the darkness of the ruined tunnels of the army of Tsar. Go, gather men, hire someone who knows aught of divine magic and see what you can learn. And if you should see something we must know about--we will listen."
She hands Anzath an elaborate ivory and gold scroll case. Inside are two scrolls of Sending.
"Don't sell them, Stalker. Do your duty and perhaps you will redeem yourself from sin. That is all. Now go."
Anzath receives the scroll case, and after a moment of confusion, awkwardly bows before the holy folks and leaves their presence. Returning to the inn, she informs the group that her job is not yet finished, and that she will be returning to the dungeon of graves with them.
"Prepare to vhat you kan to take on de undead," she warns them.
Bedlam does purchase a cold iron heavy mace (24gp).
"A fine idea, Bedlam. I will seek a similar weapon, And a silver dagger."
Talathel seeks a masterwork cold iron warhammer and a standard alchemical silver dagger.