GM Phntm888's Way of the Wicked Campaign (Inactive)

Game Master Phntm888

Cole agrees and helps to get all supplies off the ship before completing the mission of setting the ship ablaze and sinking it leaving no trace of it or the crew.

"Well that could have gone a bit better losing Demlin is a blow to us. Let us recover all the spoils and get this over with."

"We seize whatever we can carry off and burn the rest. Quite an apt fate to visit upon such as Odenkirk.", Lutor muses out loud, uncaring of the end of the sailor.

"Lutor, perhaps checking over Odenkirks gear might reveal enchanted items that may prove useful to us." Gallen suggested as he started to salvage what he could from the captain and crew.

The fire-scarred woman glances up at Cole, her lips pressing tight, but she only gives a little shake of her head before she looks over at Sir Gallen's recommendation; her expression is a dubious one.

"We collect everything first," Hel corrects Lutor. "We need to break Balentyne with what we have now and whatever else can acquire in Aldencross. Being discreet may be possible, but the more we can strip from the Frosthamar to use, the better." She sits back from stripping Demlin, then rises and goes to pull the other woman's coffin out from what had been readied to move to shore. "Faila."

The flying reptile hisses from her spot on the deck right in front of her insulated carrier. "What now??" she snaps back at Hel.

Hel pauses, looking over at her familiar. "Aren't you the grumpy one."

"You got sleep last night," snarls the tiny rhamphorhynchus. "I didn't!!"

Hel blinks, reconstructing the night in her head, and realizes that her familiar had indeed stayed awake the entire time -- including the trip from Sakkarot's camp to here. "One last thing," she says, "and then you can sleep for as long as you like."

Faila looks at her with suspicion, but finally -- grudgingly -- says, "What is it?"

Hel turns and asks, "Squire Timeon -- which way is Balentyne from here??" Once Timeon answers, Hel points Faila in the opposite direction. "Head that way. Find us a cave, a good-sized one that Grumblejack can fit into comfortably -- a bear-cave, maybe, but away from the fortress. Look hard," she says, "and you can sleep. Find one," she adds with a little smile, "and I'll find you something pretty to wear."

The little pterosaur considers this, then gives a little 'hmph' and claws her way up onto the ship's rail before springing off and swooping into the forest.

Looking after her, Hel smiles a little, then glances towards Lutor. "You might consider sending Nopsca to search as well." She returns to her work, though, lifting the simply-clothed Demlin carefully -- even gently -- into the coffin she'd had made for herself, anticipating that she'd need it when she Turned, and not when she died for good.

Rising, Hel turns to survey the rest of the ship, then begins to help strip it: rope, sailcloth, tar, pitch, sea rations from the St. Martius, lutefisk from the Frosthamar, armor, weapon, furs, knick-knacks, pretty much everything. The only things she intends to leave aboard are oars and stone-weighted corpses (Demlin alone will not be cut open, the stone weighing her simply left to rest on her belly).

With the cargo hatch open, Hel visibly hesitates as she's about to climb down into it; one might even say she freezes up. "Iiii ... would really prefer not going down there," she says as she eyes the muck in the bottom of the ship. If it's absolutely necessary, however, she steels herself and does it -- an unpleasant task still has to be done, after all.

"I can go down..." Gallen moved forward at Hel's hesitation. They clashed heads enough, offering some kindness might help keep things professional amongst them. He had performed far more unpleasant tasks before.

Perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (11) + 10 = 21

Lutor raises an eyebrow at Hel, as he approaches Odenkirk's corpse.

"As you pointed out, we need to break Balentyne with what we have and what we can acquire. I for one would rather ascertain whether we have additional magic items before breaking up timbers. That said, Nopsca can assist in scouting once on shore and I will resume straightforward extraction once I am done."

Lutor turns to Wesh.

"Lay out anything you took off Odenkirk so I may examine it for magic."

He begins to look for the tell-tale auras of magic.

Spellcraft to identify magic items: 1d20 + 10 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 10 + 2 = 16

Wesh lays out everything for Lutor to inspect.

He shakes his head at the impracticality of taking everything onboard. "I agree with Lutor. We should only take what we can carry. Unless we know of a large and secret place to store all this stuff, I don't think most of the mundane items will be of much use to us. Sakkarot's army already have all the gear they need, after all, and we each have our own armaments. Besides, people may start asking questions if we arrive in town with basically everything that would normally be found on a ship."

"We should also decide on our cover and disguise. We can use the circlets and enter town as adventurers, or possibly a new family moving looking to acquire some land to farm or something. Infiltrating as soldiers will be possible after we find, learn about and deal with them, then enter or infiltrate as the soldier, but a cover we all agree on will be best when if we are asked what brings us to town."

"Timeon, does the area get much influx of new settlers?", Lutor asks.

"Thank you," Hel replies to Sir Gallen, quietly but vehemently. She glances towards Lutor at the mage's focus, then at Wesh Meloi, and comments mildly, "I figured we would leave the majority of the excess with Grumblejack and Timeon." She straightens from helping Sir Gallen retrieve items from belowdecks, gesturing for Grumblejack to take it ashore -- which is, after all, where the group is, as Odenkirk and his crew had set the ship up to offload the Knot before the group had turned on them; Nopsca can get ashore at any moment. "After all," she points out with an attempt at reasonableness, "we still can't take Grumblejack with us, and Timeon says people don't go into the woods up here. If Faila can't find a cave and stuff needs to come back on-board before we shove this thing out into the lake, then that's what we'll do." Her attitude says 'even if it's only me doing it.'

At Cole's comment, she gives a twist of a smile. "I haven't come up with any good ideas, really. I mean, I could do the noblewoman thing, with a group of guards, but ... generally the less attention called to us, the better, perhaps. A merchant, perhaps?" she suggests. "Well-off, but we ... lost our horses, damn it, that's going to remain a bit of an issue. Merchant, wife, a couple of guards -- looking for a new place to trade?" Waiting on Timeon's answer for Lutor, she adds, "How about traders, do they get a lot of traders?" She frowns, unable to remember (and irritated at that inability) if Janelyn had a house here.

You strip everything valuable from the ship you can find as you set to work hiding the Frosthamar's very existence. Lutor finds nothing magical. Below deck, Gallen finds a locked sea chest, with a lock matching the key you found on Odenkirk. Inside, beneath the Captain's flea-ridden wardrobe, you find his payment from Cardinal Thorn - 8000 gp, neatly stacked in a wooden box. You also find a small, silver statuette of a nude mermaid (Appraise check), and assorted loose coinage totaling 150 gp in all. A wooden crate labeled "Emergency Rations" contains six bottles of fine whiskey (Appraise check).

Timeon answers your questions as best he can, "Sometimes new people move to Aldencross, but usually only someone's family if they've been assigned to Balentyne in the Watch Wall. Merchants are much more common, as Aldencross is a market town. Sometimes they stay for a while if they think there might be a chance to earn enough profit."

Faila returns, having located a cave Grumblejack and Timeon can hide out in. It looks like nothing lives there. Grumblejack collects several large stones to weigh down the bodies.

From there, it's just a matter of spreading the pitch and tar, tying the bodies to the stones, and arranging them, if you desire. After about half an hour, everything is ready for the lighting and sinking of the Frosthamar.

While the group waits for Faila and Nopsca to return, Lutor looks over the more valuable goods while musing out loud.

"A party of merchants seems most apt then. I will be playing a quieter role for my part. I am not deft at merchant's blather, even if I do have an eye for the finer things in life."

Appraise on ivory: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (8) + 8 = 16
Appraise on narwhal horn: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24

Appraise on nude mermaid statue: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (11) + 8 = 19
Appraise on fine whiskey: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (7) + 8 = 15

Appraise Ivory: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9
Appraise Narwhal Horn: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 1 = 18
Appraise Nude Mermaid Statuette: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 1 = 18
Appraise Fine Whiskey: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5

Wesh shrugs at Timeon and Lutor's words, "A band of merchants seems like as good of a disguise as any. Probably would be difficult to convincingly play at all being family."

"I lack the training to pass dedicated scrutiny as a merchant but could pass as a guard. We should make sure whoever plays the role of merchant has the knowledge to back it up if that's the ploy we go with."

"I have been trained well to deal with people and lie. It served me well for a time selling secrets from Talingrade. It only takes getting caught once though. It will be a good cover but best not to be to open about it. If approached then we have our cover then. Agreed?"

With everything properly arranged, you set the Frosthamar adrift into the ocean. Hel then fires a flaming arrow towards the vessel, setting it and all the bodies aboard alight. Eventually, the burning ship falls beneath the waves as the dawn light just begins to touch the beach where you stand, watching it burn.

You are close now. Just a few miles from here sits the small market town of Aldencross and less than a mile from there is the watchtower of Balentyne – your goal. Already Sakkarot’s horde gathers and prepares to move. Within two weeks, they will be in a small valley north of the lake awaiting your signal. Fire the rocket into the air at just the right moment and you will take the first step towards claiming vengeance against Talingarde.

Destiny has taken you here. Destiny has given you a mission. There is no doubt that the future of this green and pleasant land lies in your hands. You could go to that town right now and warn them of the plots of the sinister Cardinal Thorn. You could give yourself up and face the justice you deserve. You could turn back from the horror and the slaughter that you are going to inflict upon these Mitran sheep. This is that moment. This is the turning point. After this, there is no going back. Anyone eager for redemption?

The narwhal horn is most certainly worth two thousand gold, in addition to its innate worth as a crafting material., Lutor mindspeaks with confidence.

***************

Lutor watches the Frosthamar burn.

We had best wait and watch long enough to ensure that some mischance does not save the vessel. Not that I expect that it will.

As the group watches the Frosthamar blaze, then go under, he muses:

"Cole and Hel, a merchant couple. Wesh, Sir Gallen, Timeon, and I as guards. I can certainly carry a crossbow. We should consider false names. I am content to appear human, as one Bill Cross."

Hel's sigh is faint but there. "Timeon will be remaining here to ... accompany Grumblejack," she reminds the wizard. That is to say, to ride herd on Grumblejack and keep him from getting bored and going off somewhere to do something that would alert the garrison. And I would not force Timeon to face a family he now knows is condemned to die within a month's time, she adds through the link. That would be exceeding cruelty, and does not the Fourth Lesson counsel that cruelty is a tool, not a pastime, and to reward service?

She continues in standard speech, and to someone who isn't part of their bond, it probably sounds like she's paused to review the 'plan' in her head. "And I suggest a small change. As we are meant -- with what, six thousand gold? A fortune by most standards -- to be a merchant couple of means, and as I intend to do some considerable amount of alchemical work, I propose that you, Master Messa, are my tutor in the alchemical art. Keeping yourself as a wizard will perhaps enable you to converse with the keep's resident arcanist. I can remain my own unbearable self if, perhaps, this is an arranged marriage -- or that I have ambitions of my dear husband being lifted into the nobility. Perhaps both," she muses judiciously.

"Being a merchant allows for talking to many people in the town," she adds, glancing at Cole, "whether we speak to it outright or not; so long as we have our relationships right our heads, and act to them, others will, in my experience, assume without asking. Just, for those of us unskilled in the art of deception like I am, we take roles close to who and what we are, and have been." She smiles thinly, watching a gout of steam rise from the sinking Frosthamar as water breaks through into the hold and quenches some of the fire. "I will be a stuck-up, unpleasant woman who thinks she is better than she is, but with wealth that allows her to get away with it -- at least for a time. Master Meloi, Sir Gallen, your pose as guards should be natural enough; concern for your employer and his future movements should allow you to ask questions about how well Balentyne provides security for this area naturally enough."

She watches the Frosthamar finally slide under the waves with an abstracted expression on her face -- the one that she wears when thinking, the one which makes her look particularly pissed off -- and with her hands slowly turning Demlin's lockpicks. "Damn you, Demlin, for dying," she says softly. "She was teaching me some of her handwork -- how to open locks and filch without people noticing. Well, I suppose if push comes to shove we'll see if I can make it work, but let's not count on that. Lutor," she adds, "I seem to recall you knowing your way around such as well -- do you want ... ?" It's clear she's offering him the masterwork thieves' tools, since she's holding them out to him.

Wesh scratches his head at the appraisal items. "Doesn't look like the whiskey's worth selling, but the ivory's worth a pretty penny."

Regarding the group's disguise, Wesh says, "I don't mind posing as a guard. Seems like the best plan anyway. Any decent merchants should have armed guards."

As Odenkirk's ship goes up in flames, Wesh reflects on how far the group has come. It seems like a distant memory - being deemed Forsaken and thrown in Branderscar to die. The Talireans should have executed him as soon as he was caught. Now, they would reap what they had sown. Now, they would all soon perish.

Wesh isn't interested in redemption. For him, the time for that had long since passed. This is the time to seize the future. A future where Asmodeus and Moloch are Talingarde's gods, not Mitra.

I'll work on leveling tomorrow.

I'll give Gallen and Cole a little more time to post, and then move us towards Aldencross.

Also, Hel, you have 8000 gp to work with, not 6000.

Appraise Ivory: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 1 = 10
Appraise Horn: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (12) + 1 = 13
Appraise Statue: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (14) + 1 = 15
Appraise Whiskey: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6

Cole laughs a bit

"Stuck up and unpleasant. So our marriage is just that a business arrangement. What's a matter my sweet do you not fancy me?" He laughs again. "So I will be the nice one? The deal closer of our power couple team. You set the harsh terms of our deals then I come in to close and tell them how it benefits the so. The smooth talker. I hope the dowry or your skills in the bedroom are worth me putting up with your attitude my lovely wife." He give a playful smile.

"So we have a plan then. Shall we head out?"

I will work on leveling today.

Lutor considers Hel's words, while replying in mindspeech to begin with.

Timeon need not be in a position where he can affect a change of heart.

He then speaks softly, with a slight smile, reaching for the tools.

"A tutor I shall be then. And I may well have uses for those."

"It seems reasonable, this will be the most challenging part I think. If it were not for the time limit we would easily tackle this challenge. The time frame is a significant factor but we will overcome it."

Or just an honest mistake, Hel agrees with Lutor; and, though there's a certain reluctance as she does so, she places Demlin's masterwork tools in Lutor's hand. "Lutor is right, though," she says out loud. "We need names. Probably names fairly close to our own, so we won't forget. I could use Hel; it isn't my actual name, after all, and thus won't be known by those in power. Helen, perhaps; it's close enough. Lutor, I know you repudiated your birth name; were you arrested under the name you're using now?"

She directs Grumblejack to help with the carrying, the bigger items and those that must necessarily be kept away from public view, such as the blood-weakened Cole's prepared coffin. As the group trudges through the woods, she looks sideways at Cole. "With my attitude, able to throw fear into the hearts of clerks and shopkeepers with but a long look and a reminder as to who I am, I would do poorly as a merchant. Clearly, by my haughty attitude and waspish demeanor I am a nobleman's daughter, used to getting her way. My dowry was undoubtedly some household goods and a sum that has since been sunk into your business, but my real dowry is the tie that gives you access to the nobility, the ability to rub elbows with important people, and -- eventually -- get them to propose you to the king as a worthy candidate for a title yourself. I, meanwhile, have tried to get you to return to Daveryn, or to go to Matheryn to seek help at the Cathedral of Mithra for your health, but you are a stubborn man who insisted on this journey. So my mage-tutor seeks to find just the right medicine for what ails your failing constitution, while I learn the basics of the alchemical craft, creating things that can be sold to fund our search."

She walks a few dozen more steps, then glances sideways at Cole again. "We will have to share a room and a bed, of course. Though I have never had a lover, my instructor in bedsport seemed to enjoy my ministrations there." She shrugs, clearly not looking forward to it, but acknowledging that sex with Cole is likely to happen as a necessary part of the disguise. And it isn't like the inquisitor is a repellant man the way her 'instructor' was ...

Wesh nods at Cole's question. "We don't have time to waste, so yes, let's head to Aldencross. There should probably be two of us 'guards' in the front and in the back, to make things seem legitimate. We don't need people asking more questions than necessary."

The fighter volunteers to walk in the front, but is fine with whatever the group decides.

Turning to Grumblejack, Wesh says, "I expect you to behave. We'll come see you when the opportunity arises, and of course after we've successfully allowed in Sakkarot's army. You would stand out like a sore thumb, so don't even think about coming to Aldencross. That's best for the life expectancy of both you and us."

He nods in approval as Hel lays fourth the plan.

"Very good all of it. I do apologize my wife as I have continued to grow cold as I approach death. I will try not to warm my feet against yours." He laughs again as they continue on to town.

Anyone eager for redemption?

I thought not. Come, my friends. We have work to do. We must burn Balentyne.

=====================================================

The journey to Aldencross takes a couple of hours. About an hour in, Faila leads Timeon and Grumblejack off to the cave she found, then rejoins you just before the town. As you walk, you can see Balentyne on a rise, overlooking the area. It looks like Timeon was correct - about a mile after the keep, you arrive at the town.

Aldencross is truly a bustling market town - you pass several fields that provide food, and the town looks to be of a good size - it isn't large by any stretch of the imagination, but it still should have all the necessary amenities.

The Lord's Dalliance Inn is easily noticeable, right on the main road as you enter the town. As you enter the inn, you see it is well-lit, clean, and comfortable looking. The smell of what may have been a tasty breakfast is in the air, and there are a few men in the area with the look of off-duty soldiers about them. You also notice a group of ten dwarves sitting by themselves at a table in the corner. A somewhat rotund, balding man with a mustache that looks vaguely like a walrus's tusks looks up from behind the bar and smiles welcomingly. He's wearing an apron and walks over to you, saying, "Welcome to the Lord's Dalliance Inn. I am Bellam Barhold, proprieter and innkeeper. I didn't expect new customers so early, but fear not. Rooms are available, if you wish them, and breakfast should be served soon. Might I inquire as to your names?"

You can respond to Bellam, but before taking any further actions, read the stuff I'm going to post in the Discussion thread now.

Lutor takes the tools, and replies:

"Aye. I was arrested as Lutor Messa, which is now the name I bear. I intend to appear as a human, and a common human name will suit me fine."

***********************************

The unassuming cloaked man clutching a book softly replies:

"Hello, Mister Barhold. You can call me Bill. Bill Cross."

Wesh nods at the innkeeper, well aware that the man would likely be among the first to fall when Sakkarot's army arrived at the town.

"My name is Torbin."

Gallen hand intended to hold back until Cole spoke, he had expected Cole to speak first but the others had set the approach now. Better to make it seem like this was normal for their group dynamic. "Jack Miller." He likewise gave a nod.

"Good day Mr. Bellam. I am James. James Thomas. This lovely woman is my wife Hel. I am a traveling merchant and we will be passing through but have a bit of business first here and will take two of your rooms and some of that delicious breakfast. For now we would like to sit and rest our feet and quench our thirst while we wait on some food." He nods and moves toward a tables and seats himself awaiting the others to join.

"Well, Master Thomas, you've certainly come to the right place. The Lord's Dalliance has some of the finest beds and foods in town. I'll arrange a room for you and your wife, although you may need two rooms for your guards and clerk - fitting three people into one room would make things a bit snug. I'll have a maid make up your rooms. I can get one of the stable lads to take your things up for you, or, if you'd prefer, you can do so yourself after you've dined. How long do you think you'll be staying in Aldencross?"

Lutor shrugs, and lets Cole do the talking.

"Yes, of course three rooms. I should have asked about the size. We can manage our things just fine. We will spend some time here in your fine establishment for a bit to mingle with the locals. What can you share with me about your town here that nay new comer should know? Not sure of how long we plan on staying yet. We will pay for the rooms for at least a week for now."

Wesh stays silent along with Lutor. It seems their arrival is going as smoothly as they could have wanted. He just hopes their accommodations aren't as cramped as he fears.

"Wonderful! Have a seat, please. Food will be brought out shortly. Thank you for coming to the Lord's Dalliance." Turning from you, he says to a couple of the maids, "Cara, would you go make up rooms 3, 6, and 7, please? Alina, bring breakfast out for our new guests, if you would."

2 gp per room per night covers food and lodging, totaling 42 gp for the week.

Breakfast comes out hot - fresh baked bread and porridge with bits of sausage in it. It all tastes good, well-seasoned - whoever the cook is, they know what they're doing. Bellam joins you after a few moments and says, "What to share with you that any newcomer should know? Well, you've booked your rooms until the same day as Market day, so you might want to stick around an extra day or two to make sure you don't miss that. The town is very safe - there's hardly any crime, although there was a merchant's guard who came through last week who made up the worst accusations against Captain Mott's wife, Kaitlyn. Devil-blooded woman, you understand?" He looks at you with knowing eyes. "Anyway, she was properly arrested for her attempt at fraud, and she's currently locked away in Balentyne, awaiting transport to Branderscar. From there, it'll be the salt mines, I'm sure. Oh, right, you aren't from around here. Captain Franz Mott is one of the captains at Balentyne, a fine officer. They say he might be given command of Lorrinsgate once its commander retires. His wife Kaitlyn is of course a pinnacle of virtue who would never do what that troublemaker accused her of. Well, enough gossiping about the sordid lies of a devil-blooded criminal. Is there anything specific you'd like to know?"

Lutor sups on vittles, while mindspeaking.

This 'devil-blooded woman' could be a useful ally, or pawn. We should investigate this further.

Wesh replies to Lutor, Indeed. Though we have to get into Balentyne first and do so carefully. Don't want to end up like her. I don't fancy returning to Branderscar.

Speaking to Bellam, Wesh says, "Who do we need to talk to about setting up shop here for a while? Any particularly important people it would be good to know? Anyone we should avoid?"

I'm more interested in what she might know, she could be a useful tool. The information she has on Kaitlyn if true could be put to very effective ends I suspect. Gallen seemingly focuses on his drink.

Quick side note. Cole will detect as LG with his misdirection ability now they are among the people again :)

Cole hands over the gold then laughs as Wesh speaks out.

"Forgive Torbin. As a guard he likes to make it his business who to know and avoid. I can't complain about it. He keeps me and the wife safe. Off to Branderscar? I have heard tales of that place. When will they transport? I am quite curious now on what the lady was accused of. Sometimes us merchants trade tales the same we trade goods." He pulls out 2gp and slides them over and leans in and whispers.

"Please share my friend."

Bluff: 1d20 + 14 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 14 + 1 = 20
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 14 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 14 + 1 = 32

"Oh, well, if you're going to set up shop here in town, you'll probably want to speak to the reeve, Dominik Vallison. The Commander of Balentyne is the lord of the town, but the town is large enough that Lord Havelyn felt that he should appoint a reeve to run the day to day business so he can focus on keeping us safe from the savage beasts to the north. I don't know that there's anyone you would need to avoid - no one in town bears merchants ill will. Aldencross thrives on trade, after all."

Eyeing the gold, Bellam casually sets a hand on it and makes it disappear before he leans in and quietly says, "Well now, it won't do to spread gossip, but the devil-woman said Captain Mott's wife, Kaitlyn, was being unfaithful with Captain Eddarly, one of the other captains. All false, of course - she was likely just trying to stir up trouble. Kaitlyn was so upset about it - as well she should be."

"Are there any other mages or alchemists in town? And do they trade in quality materials?", asks "Bill" slipping a gold coin across the table.

"I like quality materials."

Diplomacy DC 5: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (20) - 1 = 19

With Timeon and Grumblejack's instructions clearly laid out and Faila sleeping in their care, Hel leaves with the rest of the Knot. On the way to the road, she tries out different appearances, keeping a sidewise eye on Cole's reaction, but settles on an appearance that is similar to her own. The woman's dark hair is allowed to ripple free, held away from her face by a finely-tooled and -dyed band of cinnamon-brown leather, the leather decorated with small golden studs but holding an otherwise-plain thumbnail-sized cabochon of gold. Though her own hair has grown over the last three months, the disguise gained by way of the iron crown has it somewhat longer, clearly too much to have grown in the comparatively-scant season of their 'departure' from Branderscar. She rounds her face somewhat, softening the angles and expressions without removing the sting her eyes can give.

Her traveling clothing she spruces up; though she doesn't mess around with their forms, their appearance is another matter. While the chest holding her clothing, alchemical lab, and the most valuable items they've taken off the Frosthamar is carried (or, more likely, dragged on a makeshift travois along with the rest of the things they've salvaged), her clothing needs to have the image of 'rich person' all over it, and so it does; her vest is a tooled and embroidered robin's-egg blue, her skirt and cloak both clearly well-made, however serviceably brown they may be.

As they enter town, her face flattens slightly into 'resting angry face Hel', the perceptive, judgemental woman looking around with every step she takes into Aldencross. It is likely clear that they lost their horses and/or cart, and they needn't say anything themselves; Hel, at least, won't. She does glance sideways at Cole -- sorry, 'James' -- as he declares himself a mere traveling merchant instead of a man of wealth and consequence, and asks for two rooms instead of the three she'd recommended. The look expresses displeasure that Bellam Barhold might undoubtedly be able to discern; he would not be wrong, but his information would also not be complete.

Barhold's presumption of the tasks that Bill Cross performed for the merchant couple does make her eyebrows lift slightly, but unfortunately in the conversation that follows -- one that she tracks carefully, her eyes predatory as she listens -- she regrets (momentarily, at least) that Lutor does not jump at the chance to allow the misapprehension to stand. Again, her expression tightens slightly at the bribes being presented to Barhold, but that might be mistaken for a pinch-penny's preference for thrift -- or, to be fair, an uptight Mitran's annoyance at such minor sins. Hel does seem to take some pleasure in the meal offered at least, the relatively simple fare saved by its savoriness.

Really, husband James -- you must remember what Squire Timeon spoke of, connect the dots. We only have so much money, after all. A glance sideways at 'James' conveys that, and she gestures 'Bill' to put his money away. "Master Barhold, recent arrivals as we are, we must of course stroll through the town and see what stores and merchants you have. If you can spare one of your boys or girls for the afternoon, and as Master Cross desires to spend a coin, might we offer it to them to act as our native guide? Someone ... chatty, if you will."

As the nobles say, "It isn't what you know, it's whom you know." The merchants of her acquaintance had a similar saying: "Don't try to learn expertise in a day; hire it." Barhold is likely to be someone to know, in part because he is equally likely to know who to hire. A voluble native guide would be just the thing, to discover as much as possible about the town's layout and general inhabitants before the end of the day. And a chatty youth will probably be more willing to answer questions that an adult might become wary about, and less likely to remember they were asked -- presuming the prying questions are interspersed with more innocuous ones.

Bill, she decides, deliberately using the others' fake names to keep reminding herself of what they are -- and hopefully remind the others of their own identities, you and I shall stroll about town. Torbin, Jack, one of you always here in the inn -- common room by preference, but be properly paranoid, check our rooms as necessary, such as when someone goes up. Buy drinks for folk, listen to rumors; we'll all do that come nightfall. I do want to send Faila up to look at the fortress, get a good sense of its dimensions -- height to the rookery tower roof, and how wide its windows are, specifically. I've an idea of how to take care of them, but that's one small piece of the puzzle.

The other of you should stay with Master Thomas, and here she glances at Cole, doing your bodyguard thing. By all means ask questions of guards and such while James speaks to the reeve Vallison. James, she adds, we will have need of more room and privacy than this place; see if there's a house for rent, perhaps. Or sale, since we are wealthy and looking for a town to expand your network into. And I'm sure you can parley your own military experience into some camaraderie, mmm?

Wesh just shrugs at Cole's comment and nods at Bellam's reply. The group certainly has a monumental task before them and not much time to accomplish it. Still, it seems they're already off to a good start.

On a whim, Wesh asks, "Did you hear when the devil-blooded woman is being shipped off to Branderscar? I imagine that will be quite the spectacle. Might be good to have a shop set up near the route for anyone going to watch."

Guys it helps to read each others post. I just asked about transport in my post.

Cole smiles lovingly at his wife and reaches for her hand at the table.

"Thank you Bellam. As my wife suggest a guide would make things much easier. I would very much like to see the reeve. A permanent shop here may be quite lucrative for us." He smiles at the man.

[i]A house would be a good idea. I have a thought or plan on dealing with Mott and Eddarly. This devil woman may have give us a perfect situation to exploit.[i]

To "Bill's" question, Bellam responds, "There are indeed a couple of such shops that cater to such things. Teryth Caldwin owns Master Caldwin's Cauldron - he specializes in alchemical remedies and concoctions. Odd chap, but knowledgeable. Originally from somewhere south of here. For magic, there's the Illuminated Scroll. Jacobian Scaramore runs the shop. He's the resident hedge mage, but he also serves as scribe, accountant, and is something of an expert on legal matters. Another one originally from the south."

Asked about transport of the prisoner by Cole and Wesh, Bellam can only shrug. "I can't say anything about that. It isn't any of my business, really."

To Hel, he chuckles and says, "I'm certain one of the stable lads could be spared for the day. Let me know when you're ready to go out, and I'll get one for you."

Standing, Bellam says, "Now, I've got to get back to my custom. Just let me know when you're ready to go out. Your rooms should be ready by now."

James stands as Bellam does.

"Thank you again. Soon as we finish our breakfast we would like to store some of our things in our rooms. It would then be a good time to fetch one of the stable lads to guide us."

He extends a hand to shake.

Wesh stands as well, nodding to Bellam and saying, "Much appreciated. You've been most helpful."

Once the rooms are readied, Wesh will help transport the group's things to their rooms, as any good guard would.

I assume we'll discuss our plans in a bit more detail once we're settled and alone.

"My thanks."

One would think that additional gold to a commoner would been seen as a boon. No matter. Let us walk then, you and I, Mrs. Thomas. But first, the rooms need attending to.

Lutor thinks of Nopsca, whom he ordered to skulk outside of town for now, both to keep him hidden and to watch for unusually large road movements.

Teryth Caldwin and Jacobian Scaramore both not being local could be useful. The locals are fairly isolated. Outsiders not in the military assigned here may be socially kept at length, left to fester it could be fertile ground. Caldwin being noted to be odd might be more promising. Jack seemingly just nursed his drink.