Each journey began with a simple note.
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Greetings to you, esteemed one. Well do I remember your deeds at Carrion Hill, and proud was I the day I had the honor to grant your commission. Now we have need of your skills, and I hope you will acquit yourself admirably.
A friend of the Society, one Madame Natalya Tiboros of Nisroch, has requested the aid of some of our finest young agents. The matter concerns a daughter who married the baron of one of the more remote towns in Nidal a year past. Since the daughter left with her husband for their home in Karpad, she has remained in frequent contact with her mother, and her letters have increasingly spoken of erratic behavior from her husband, and of some growing tragedy the town has suffered. These past few weeks, though, her letters have stopped, and Madame Tiboros seeks some answers as to what may have befallen her beloved daughter.
Madame Tiboros is a dear friend of the Society, and has made many generous contributions to its work in the past. She is an especial friend of the Chelish paracountess Zarta Dralneen, a specialist in strange artifacts for the Society in Absalom. Currying Madame Tiboros’ favor may prove to create valuable contacts for your own search - I would suggest that you perform well. We are sending another of our agents with you as well, Milovic Draznoi. I would hazard a guess you remember him.
Best of wishes to you in your work.
Basia Kalistoff, venture-captain of the Pathfinder Society, Miregrold Manor, Ustalav
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Little Milo,
I write to you with fear in my heart. Word of your deeds as an agent of the Pathfinder Society has reached my ear even in Nisroch, and I hope you’ve found more happiness with them than with that harpy of a mother you have. But now I have a favor to ask of you. Mother insisted that formal channels would be more appropriate, and she’s reached out to the Society herself, but I had to be the one to tell you.
It’s Anya...we’ve not heard from her in weeks. She married a year past, a baron from the town of Karpad out in the hinterlands - that third son of the Boroi family that rose to the barony after his father and brothers were lost so tragically several years ago. Since her marriage, her letters have been frequent, telling of her new life with her husband, the child she’s now borne him...and of a growing unease he was showing, strangeness both in her husband and in the town he rules. Now her letters have stopped, and I fear the worst. I beseech the Midnight Lord every day with pain for her safety, but as her silence grows longer, my worry grows.
I know the affection you bore for Anya. She spoke of you fondly, though the difference in your stations was too great for anything lasting to occur. Please, appeal to your captain. Ask for permission to go to Karpad, and for allies to accompany you. I know not what has happened, but my sister’s correspondence would not have stopped unless some tragedy has befallen Karpad. Find out what’s happened to her. Please - for Anya...
Anneliese Tiboros, Daughter of the Fourth House of Shadow, Heir of the Onyx Circlet
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Tess,
You’ve done well as a member of the Society here in Varisia. I knew your skills were wasted on escorting that caravan me and Shiela came to Magnimar on - the way you handled that manticore was stunning, and you being so young still. And the way I hear it, you’ve only gone up since I granted you that field commission - you’re really making a name for yourself. You looking for a chance to test yourself even further?
There’s a group of folks gathering at a town called Karpad, in the hinterlands of Nidal. They’re looking into a woman’s whereabouts, daughter of one of the Society’s big sponsors in Nisroch. From what I’m hearing, they may be facing some strange goings-on - I haven’t heard much in the way of specifics, just rumblings of something unusual happening. Want in?
If you’d like to join them, just let me know and I can have you underway lickety-split, on the Society’s dime of course. Shiela’s been reaching out to another of our agents - he’s a strange one, but I daresay you’ll get along just fine as traveling partners. You’ve got a good stout spirit - I trust you’ll be able to handle anything Nidal can throw at you. What do you say?
Sir Canayven Heidmarch, Pathfinder Society, Heidmarch Manor, Magnimar
P.S. Shiela wanted me to remind you about the get-together we’re having for the local agents during Harvest Feast this Lamashan. We’ll toast your success in Karpad!
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Vandrare,
I hope this note finds you well, and I thank you again for your delivery. Hendrik’s journals have proven invaluable resources in the Society’s libraries - not a day after you brought them in, his observations on Ustalavic forestry practices helped one of our agents track down a long-lost relic from the Shining Crusade. It turns out the artifact was actually blighting the fir trees in the area, and no one could figure out the cause, but Hendrik’s observations on the patterns of the blight were the missing piece of the puzzle…
Sorry, you probably don’t want to listen to my ramblings on fir tree blight. Anyway, the reason I’ve written is to ask that favor you offered. One of the Society’s most generous backers, Madame Natalya Tiboros, has lost contact with her daughter Anya after she married and moved to her husband’s manor. She’s asking for some agents to look into her well-being, but none of the initiates I have in my care right now are anywhere near up to the task. I remembered what you said when you brought those journals, about wanting to repay a favor in Hendrik’s place and possibly looking for placement in the Society’s ranks.
Can you do this for me, follow the missing girl’s path? Her husband is baron of the town of Karpad, in the northeast part of Nidal. There should have been a box with this note; enclosed, you’ll find my old wayfinder. Take good care of it, ok? It’ll serve as a token to prove your connection to the Society if anyone tries to give you trouble. If you do well, I’d be happy to sponsor your initiation into the Society for this - Madame Tiboros is one of our strongest sponsors, and from her concern, I’d say she expects something fairly dramatic.
I believe Ollysta is sending one of her newest recruits as well, a young girl - vampire-sired, like yourself. A promising talent, from what I recall of her training. You should find your passage to Nidal in the box along with the wayfinder, if Valas has managed to follow instructions properly for once...
Oh, don’t mind my ramblings. Make Hendrik proud, all right? He spoke nothing but the best of his young charge.
Kreighton Shane, Master of Scrolls, Pathfinder Society Grand Lodge, Absalom
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Dearest Kinvara,
I have been so blessed, witnessing your rise into the Society. Your dedication to healing the hurts of others, though it tears at your very skin - I have never met one who encompassed the goals of the Silver Crusade so beautifully. Now your Confirmation is complete, and I have a task for you.
Frightful news from the land of Nidal has reached my ear - vague reports of a strange sickness, some sort of shadow plague, preying on an area in the north of that land. It’s like nothing I’ve ever heard of before, not with all my experience in the Dawnflower’s service. And worse, a friend of the Society from Nisroch, Madame Tiboros, has sent word that her daughter has gone silent, somewhere near where these reports seem to be emerging from. The woman, her husband, their newborn child - all could be at risk.
Will you go look into the veracity of these reports? We’ve not received specific word of a location for this plague, but Madame Tiboros’s daughter lives in Karpad, north of Pangolais. A ship sails for Nisroch tomorrow - your passage should be enclosed. From there, passage has been arranged along the Usk River, then north from Pangolais. You should have a companion for the trip, if Kreighton remembers to make the arrangements. A vampire-born like yourself, I believe he said, and the ward of his old friend. I thank you so for this, Kinvara. The good you will do in the Society is incalculable.
May your Lady’s fortune guide your path.
Ollysta Zadrian, Temple of the Shining Star, Absalom
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Has your stay in Magnimar been pleasant? But I suppose anything would be, after what you spoke of yesterday...Regardless, I hope the inn I suggested was enjoyable. Not the most high-end of places, I know, but usually the best about not making their more unusual clientele feel unwelcome.
Anyway, the particulars of the mission I spoke of yesterday. There’s a noblewoman in Nisroch, a great friend to the Society, who’s recently reached out to us. It seems she’s had no word from her daughter in some time, and she grows concerned. The girl, Anya, married the baron of a small town in the frontier a year ago and moved to her husband’s manor. The letters were constant for a long while, but a few weeks ago they simply stopped, and the tone of Anya’s writings had been concerning for some time before that.
We’re gathering a few agents to go to Karpad and look into Anya’s well-being. Madame Tiboros has done much for the Society - she even helped to finance our operations here while we got our administrative affairs in order, and we couldn’t pass up an opportunity to repay her. You’ll be traveling to Karpad with another agent from the area, an Ulfen half-elf girl my husband granted a field commission when we first arrived in Magnimar. I won’t lie to you; Madame Tiboros sounded desperate, and it seems as if she fears what’s happening in Karpad a great deal. But after the horrors you’ve already encountered, I have faith you’ll stand strong.
Best to you,
Shiela Heidmarch, venture-captain of the Heidmarch Manor Pathfinder Society lodge, Magnimar
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Each journey began with a note. Now, all journeys end with a meeting.
A dhampir man and woman make their way along the creek-side path, with a startlingly large bird close alongside. It is the man the bird seems to favor; he carries an impressive array of swords, and appears as hearty as any with vampire blood could look. The woman, however, is his opposite; she looks gaunt and wasted, leaning heavily on a spear with terrible sores covering her flesh. Their journey by ship through the Inner Sea and Conqueror’s Bay was calm, and the master of the barge traveling along the Usk River knew his trade well. Their road along Dimar’s Way was well-traveled and easy to follow, being the prominent trade route for the area, though travelers along the road spoke in whispers of a strange threat in one of the towns along the path.
A tall, broad-shouldered woman with a trace of elvish heritage walks with a strange traveling partner - a heavily scarred and many-times-tattooed man, his orcish background clear in his jutting jaw and dark, heavy-browed eyes. Their path led from Magnimar through Korvosa and the Mindspin Mountains; a taxing journey, but the two seem none the worse for the exertion. Indeed, both seem strong and hardy, carrying their loads with ease. As their path winds through northern Nidal, they too begin hearing the whispers of their fellow travelers. Fear, they speak of, madness, plague, death.
Two human men make their way through Nidal’s countryside as well, having traveled alongside a caravan from Karcau until three days prior, when their road diverged to the northwest. One man wears a strange assortment of pouches and sheaths, which seem almost to shift around his chest of their own accord. The other wears an ornate rapier and a somber look, as if the dark countryside holds dark memories for him. News of trouble had reached their ears as well; something, it seems, has gone terribly wrong in the town ahead.
All three pairs converge along the path. Nearby sits the town of Karpad, a small rural settlement that somehow feels shrouded in gloom even in the noonday sun. As they meet, recognition suddenly flashes across each face, and they greet each other cordially. For a compass of precious metal - a wayfinder - hangs from a chain around each of their necks, and instantly each realizes that all are here with the same purpose. Anya Boroi has been silent, and these are the intrepid agents the Society has sent at her mother’s request to break that silence.
"Is this all of us? I wasn't told how many to expect?" the young human said looking around the group. "I am Xander Ravencourt. This is Milo."
The Ravencourt family is a very old noble family out of Ustalav and Lastwall. The patriarch of their house was one of the Shield Marshals of the Shining Crusade. They are Taldan and have a history of dedication to Pharasma. There are a series of 'penny dreadful' publications that star a pair of Ravencourt brothers who travel around hunting vampires, werewolves and other such monsters. These stories have given the family more public notoriety than they probably deserve. Possibly inspired by the stories, there are rumors that the family is cursed.
Vandrare casts his eyes over the rest of the group with interest, noting the electic mix of folk who would soon be his companions.
He nods to Xander as Kinvara introduces him and Aya. "I assume you are all here for the girl?" he says in a deep, coarse voice.
"Well met, I am Titania Evangeline Snow-fell." she looks at xander as she continues "And if I'm not mistaken, isn't the Ravencourt house an old noble family out on the borders of Ustalav and Lastwall.."
Xander cringes a little. "Yeah... I'm something of a black sheep though. Don't expect me to wrestle any werewolves."
"Uh... both, I guess?" Xander said with a small shrug. "You ok?" he said with a small gesture toward Kinvara's face. "That looks painful."
Milo stands uneasily at the edges of the group, constantly looking over his shoulder with the fingers of one hand tapping nervously on the basket hilt of his rapier. "Yes, yes, hello to all of you," he mutters. "What Ravencourt said. Milovic Draznoi, what a pleasure, blah blah."
Milo takes a deep breath, reminding himself that members of the Umbral Court are probably not hiding behind every bush, ready to jump out and ambush them.
"Have any of you been to Nidal before?" he half-demands of the group at large. "You Pharasmans should understand not to speak of your goddess, and to hide your symbols immediately. Nobody but bloody Zon-Kuthon is worshiped openly, here. And you do not wish to draw the attention of his priests."
"when it comes to the Lady, I don't think any of us are well suited." Xander said with a wry smile. He tucked his Wayfinder away beneath his robe.
"A whole country of Kuthonites. Wonderful."
As the group continues their conversation, Vandrare listens uncomfortably. Small talk did not come easily to the ranger, and already he was feeling out of his depth.
"What else would you have us know of this place, Milovic? "
He did not intend to be marched out of town for a simple discretion, and indeed he was not even sure of how the locals would treat the more exotic members of the group.
"Yes, it's fantastic," Milo mutters. Xander has the benefit of having traveled with him before, and knows that his current nervous surliness is not his usual disposition, but a change that has come over him since they first entered the country.
He looks sharply over to Vandrare at the question, taking in the fellow more fully now. He gives a small nod of approval for the cautious question, at least.
"You should know that anyone you meet-- any farmer or pretty barmaid-- could easily be an agent of the Umbral Court, so guard your tongue, all of you. They travel as ordinary folk, seeking out any hint of rebellion to the court, or service to other gods. I would say that we be discreet, but..." the human's face twists, and he indicates, with a wave of his hand, both the half-elf woman who would surely draw eyes in any crowd, both by merit of her height and her looks.... then his fingers drift on toward the heavily scarred half-orc.... and conclude by tracing a circle in the air around the two dhampir, with an especial flourish at the wretchedly-unhealthy-looking Kinvara. "...we will blend in with the common folk like ogres in a halfling village."
He pauses a moment, gaze returning to the half-orc, critically staring at his visible scars. "On the other hand, you're scarred up enough to pass as one of the devout. Just talk about how much you love pain, it'll go over fabulously," he says bluntly.
"And I've heard rumors that... some of the court agents... embrace undeath, as well," he adds on, voice sinking a bit, as if he feared being overheard even out here at this lonely crossroads. "So... perhaps the three of you I needn't worry so much about. Anyway, we should find Anya and be gone from this blasted and gods-forsaken land as quickly as possible."
"I see. Well hopefully this Umbral Court of yours don't see any reason to take interest in our merry band, though somehow I doubt we'll be so lucky." he replies stonily.
He reaches into a pouch on his belt and retrieves a small piece of dried beef. Tearing off a bite, he turns to Aya and offers her the rest.
Aya gobbles down the jerky greedily, then returns to preening her wings.
Shogunto smiles to Milovic.
Heh! Yes, you have a point! - he says, regarding his own brute appearance.
Besides... - he continues - ... Undeath is everywhere, and I definitely agree some of us will blend much easier in such reality.
He grunts. He was uncomfortable with the past months of his life, but felt well around pathfinders. Maybe this is how his father was all the time.
Your paths have converged as the road winds along the edge of a narrow vale, the small, lazy river Dimar’s Way cutting through its center. As you walk, a narrow path separates leading to the south, and the intermittent patches of trees open up, allowing the road to pass through and travelers to see where it leads.
The road switches back a couple of times as it descends, then leads to a small town, with cobblestone streets and sixty or so buildings. Across the river, atop a small rise, sits easily the largest and most prominent of these buildings - a stately stone manor house, lording over the vale with palatial grandeur, with lights and movement visible through one of the windows. A banner flows in the wind, displaying a red bear traversing a starry sky.
Another large stone building can be seen, this one nestled in among the town’s other buildings. This impressive edifice is built from nearly jet-black stone, with imposing spires reaching for the sky. Around this building, hundreds of tombstones rest in a somber field, impressive mausoleums crowned with statues ringing the cemetery’s edges.
A few larger houses sit on farmland plots near the edges of town, while smaller homes and businesses crowd together in the main part of town along the banks of Dimar’s Way. A town square shoulders its way into the center of the crowd, with a gnarled oak taking up much of the space. The streets are busy with townspeople crossing from place to place. There seem to be two distinct collections of buildings, one on each bank of the river.
Looking down into the town, you notice something strange. Lining the streets and the eaves of the larger buildings are torches, clearly all lit despite the fact that it is barely noon and the clouds are not heavy. Around the town’s border, great bonfires burn, belching smoke into the air, while men in what appear to be guard uniforms stop at them occasionally to feed fuel to the flames. No less than six bonfires surround the manor on the hill, and its parapets are ablaze with myriad torches.
The Boroi family... Barons of Karpad. - Shogunto whispers, nodding his head towards the banner.
Any idea of what those bonfires are for? - he asked, still in a low tone.
"I may blend in better than you think Milo, Ulfen are known for their Honour, and with a little melted candle wax I can make some fake scars."
"Kinvara, does raise a point. If there is a sickness about how should we go about keeping ourselves healthy?
And I've heard of some horrible diseases."
"Boroi family, the barons of Karpad"
"Finding lodging seems like the first step. It is always useful to have a base of operations to work from. Let's see if we can find an Inn."
"I may blend in better than you think Milo, Ulfen are known for their Honour, and with a little melted candle wax I can make some fake scars."
Milo snorts. "And what on earth makes you think honor is any good here? The entire aristocracy are sworn servants of a god of torture. If you're expecting chivalry just because I speak of a 'court,' you are quite mistaken. For that matter, Nidal once tried to conquer part of your northlands.... there's hardly any love for the Ulfen here."
"So, with Milovic's suggestion of discretion, it seems unwise to simply walk into town and start asking questions. How do we figure out where to start. Madame Tiboros's daughter may not be well known here. Do any of you know more about where we may begin looking?"
"Madame Tiboros's daughter would be very well known here," Milo counters Kinvara's earlier statement as they walk. "She's only the local baroness, after all. She married Boroi." Milo's tone seems especially sour over that fact.
He sighs, walking in silence a few steps, then keeps talking, since it's likely relevant to their mission. "I know Anya-- our missing lady. Well... I knew her. I haven't seen her in eight years. We-- well, that doesn't matter. Anyway, she married this baron, and for a while, her letters to her family were normal enough... she had a child... but over time, the letters spoke of some strangeness in the town, and with the baron. Since then? She's stopped writing." Milo's face is grim.
"Of the baron himself, I know little enough: he was a third son, and his father and brothers died some time ago. This being Nidal, I wouldn't rule out the notion that he killed his kin for the barony."
He's brought up short by the sight of the town, and the blazing bonfires. Milo's brow knits as he studies the fires and listens to the other's thoughts.
"...I've heard no rumors of disease, but... frankly, I try to avoid hearing anything about Nidal, these days," he mutters. "If those are corpse-fires... ugh." He shudders a little. "I don't know, wrap your cloak around your nose I suppose and try to avoid touching the sick. I'm no healer."
Milo frowns, fidgeting in place as he stares down at the town and considers Kinvara's question. In truth, all he really wants to do is turn and head for the border, as fast as his feet will carry him. But... Anya. And his pride won't let him run from a Society mission... just yet.
"I think either way, we'll be suspicious," he sighs. "Like you just said. It's a small town, and if there is a plague, visitors wouldn't normally be arriving here anyway. We'll stand out as outsiders regardless. With that being the case... I wonder if it might not be best to let people... assume the worst of us. I mean, the two of you are... what you are..." he squints at the dhampirs.
"We're less likely to be questioned if people think we're here on authority of the court."
Milo's tone is very uneasy even as he sketches out this idea. The thought of impersonating agents of the Umbral Court honestly makes him want to wet his pants, childhood fears rushing back in full force. He hastens to add, "I don't suggest we actively claim that. Just that if people assume it-- don't correct them."
He shrugs, unhappily. "Open travelers, or through the woods: either way, eyes will follow us when we reach town."
"We're going to have to confront the townsfolk eventually; I see no reason to skulk through the woods when we are here on behalf of the Pathfinders. The baroness should welcome us with open arms." Vandrare says, still chewing the tough, dried beef. "I agree with Xander, finding ourselves somewhere to stay sounds like a start."
Continuing down the road some way, the sides of the vale begin to steepen slightly. It does look mostly passable, and the vague remains of old logging trails can just be made out, but you can see it'll be a steep and tedious climb to get to the bottom, and what trails you can see are clearly in disuse, so the path would be an unexpected one for visitors to approach on.
Looking down on the town, the building sitting opposite the old oak tree in the town square seems to be an inn. It's certainly one of the largest of the wood buildings, and it seems to be one of the most active as well. In fact, several people seem to be gathering in the square now, most in front of the inn, with a few beneath the oak tree on a hastily erected platform.
Though smaller and slightly more dilapidated-looking, there does also appear to be an inn on the far bank of the river as well, though these streets are much less active than in the main part of town.
It does look as if the road to the large manor house skirts past the edge of the two main sections of the town, passing close only to the large spired building and a few houses. You may be able to approach the manor house without being noticed by many townsfolk, especially since most of the activity right now is in the town square a couple of blocks away from the road.
Milo shrugs at Vandrare. "You assume the baroness will be free and available to greet us with those open arms. She stopped writing for a reason. Perhaps her theoretically-murderous husband has chained her up in the basement to be flayed by inches," he says with a ghoulish sort of smile.
"Being a Pathfinder is not a crime, in Nidal," he continues, "but it also doesn't exactly grant us any particular authority, you realize. But fine. If you wish to take the direct route--"
--Milo pauses for effect, gesturing downhill at the town-- "--then let us go directly the manor house, ring the gate bell, and inquire after her ladyship's health, as courteous and honest visitors. It looks like most of the rabble's doing... something down in the center of town, so we might slip by. ...Is that a platform? Hm. An execution?"
Milo shades his eyes with his hand, staring down that way, then twitches into action. "We're wasting daylight," he says abruptly. "And I mislike being somewhere without four walls for the night. Let's just go down, then: we can make for the inn, and see what's going on down there."
"Whatever's going on, either we'll walk into the middle of it, or we can ask the innkeeper." Xander shrugged. "If it's an execution, maybe you can arrange a distraction while I go do my thing?"
"If that is the case, Milo, then our stay here will indeed be as short as you had hoped." Van grimaces as he unclasps his heavy woolen cloak and offers it to Kinvara. "Regardless of our course of action, you would do well to hide your complexion. If it is disease which plagues this town, we don't want them thinking that you are infectious. Keep your hood drawn, and muffle your cough as best you are able."
Turning around, he pauses as his eyes catch the heavily scarred half-orc. For a moment he considers offering the same warning, but decides against it. "He looks big enough to take care of himself."
"Now what exactly do you mean by 'a distraction', and what is your 'thing'? Interfering with a public execution does not classify as subtlety where I come from." he says to Xander with a frown, retrieving his pack and sliding it onto his back. "Lets just try and make it to the inn without having blades drawn against us, shall we?"
"Wasn't planning on interfering. I was just going to talk to the corpse." Xander said with a shrug. "Milo makes a pretty good distraction. We've done this sort of thing before."
It makes sense! - says Shogunto, agreeing with Kinvara and covering his face with a piece of cloth.
It was noticeable that his hands looked a little bulkier and rougher than you'd expect even from a half-Orc, as if something supernatural was in effect there. Like the dhampirs, there was something on him reminding of death, as if he was tainted by undeath somehow. Yet, he looked perfectly alive.
Heading to the inn sounds like a good plan to me. We can set lodging for the night, do some questioning around and leave later to investigate the rest of the city. - he complements while walking, smiling to Milovic (although it can't be seen under the cloth).
"Well to the Inn we go, as it'll allow use to rest for the night, and the inn's common room might have some folks around that have loose lips from their drink.
That and nightfall is approaching and we don't know what comes out at night..."
Noting that Kinvara's cloak is bigger than he first thought, Vandrare throw his over his shoulders, fixing the clasp. He turns to Aya, and whispers "You had better stay here, little one. Stick to the woods, I'll call for you when it's time to leave." He draws a small whistle from his belt pouch and blows on it softly, gesturing to the surrounding tree line with his other hand. Replacing the whistle, he pulls out one more piece of dried beef and places it in her beak. He scratches her head affectionately, then waves, signally for her to take flight.
Aya cocks her head, staring at the whistle. She scarfs down the jerky, and as Vandrare waves she spreads her mighty wings. With a few powerful flaps she takes to the sky, disappearing into the nearby trees.
As you travel down the hill and turn toward the town square, the din of a shouting crowd begins to fill the air. An inn, a smithy, and a carriage house flank the open area; cobblestones pave the square and a gnarled, leafless oak tree grows in the northeast corner. A hastily erected platform stands below the tree, and ropes hang from the limbs above.
Upon the platform stand three figures. One is a man with his arms thrown protectively around the two others, a teenaged boy and a young girl. Their terror is evident, but perhaps the most startling is their complexion. Their skin is an ashen grey, lacking even the blue and purple undertones that Vandrare and Kinvara exhibit. Stark white hair hangs over their shoulders, and pupil-less, luminescent yellow eyes scan the crowd, hoping against hope for a friendly face.
They present a stark contrast to the rest of the crowd, all clearly human and countering the icy despair of the platform's inhabitants with fiery rage. One man seems to be leading the crowd - a heavyset man wearing a finely made set of chainmail, waving a light mace in the air and shouting angrily.
His cries ring out over the crowded square.
These filthy child-snatchers took my girl, my sweet Olya, as a pawn for their foul experimentation with undeath! You know their kind - they've plagued our town for generations! -
My little girl, gone to be dissected into components for their dark magics... -
But we'll not allow it! No one's child should disappear to these...these abominations! -
-
These shadow-blooded freaks cannot be allowed to continue their deviant ways, their sale of our youth to dark slavery under the night hags and shades of the Uskwood!
He continues in this vein - alternating between despondency, worry, and manic anger. Though talk of his daughter's disappearance is a constant, his accusations change from moment to moment, and you begin to sense that he may not be completely in control of his mental faculties. The confused speech still appears enough to incite the crowd's ire, however, and it's evident that, unless something is done to calm the crowd, it will not end well for the figures on the platform.
"What is the court system like in Nidal?" Xander asked Milo, his voice grim. It was clear he was considering stepping into the situation, but hadn't yet weighed his options.
In response to Xander's confident statement that he, Milo, will be able to make a distraction, Milo merely huffs to himself. Yes, he can make distractions.... but the last thing he wants, here in Nidal, is to be the center of attention. Ugh. Still, he doesn't object, and down the road they go...
As the situation becomes clear, Milo groans under his breath, cursing inwardly. Great. A witch-hunt where some poor wretches are blamed for the problems of everyone else-- the sort of thing he accepts as just part and parcel of how the world operates. However, his time journeying with Xander has made him aware that the Pharasman has a charmingly idealistic view of the world and that this is just the sort of cause that will tug at his heartstrings.
Out of the corner of his mouth, he mutters, "Whatever suits the aristocracy. 'Justice' is not of terribly great value in Nidal, no matter what honeyed words they use to dress up their punishments. At least hanging's a clean death," he points out, half-hoping that that might convince Ravencourt to drop the issue. A glance at the other man's face shows him that's probably not going to be the case.
Squinting at the crowd, and the raving man, Milo observes, still quietly, "The poor sods about to be strung up are fetchlings-- shadow-blooded. As for our yelling chap.... that goiter on his neck is the size of an egg. But... at least I see no symbol of Zon-Kuthon..."
Milo's gaze flicks to the others in the party, trying to judge if they're all of the same mind as Xander. There are a depressing number of idealists in the Society, by Milo's lights.
"If what they are doing is legal by rule of local custom, what right do we have to interject?" Vandrare murmurs, more to himself than to the rest of the group. As he looks upon the terrified figures on the platform though his expression turns to anger. Once upon a time he was the scared little boy, facing the furious punishment dealt by those who would fear that which they didn't understand. Many nights he had spent alone, nursing wounds given due to the very same prejudice he saw on the faces of the people in the crowded square.
"Xander, disregard what I said before; subtlety is over-rated. If you think we can stop this from going further, I will support you however I can. If not... I cannot just stand by and watch those children hang. Something has to be done..." He says with eyes full of sorrow.
" I cannot just stand by and watch those children hang. Something has to be done..." He says with eyes full of sorrow.
"That's where our right comes from. It is the right of everyone everywhere to act against unjust laws." Xander said, sounding like he was quoting someone.
"Maybe we can just talk to them. They don't seem fond of undead, so you two should probably stay out of sight unless things get ugly." Xander started moving forward through the crowd.
"Everything alright here?" he asked loudly as he got closer to the large man.
"This does not surprise me so much, as small communities see one another more like family.
But this type of discrimination is not new, as small communities can be a bit xenophobic and to varying degrees based on race or ethnicity."
Tess replies back to Kinvara.
"And your right, in that if there is no evidence then they a likely just basing it off their fears."
Tess will move up with Xander to help with is diplomacy.
"Everything alright here?"
The faces of the fetchlings on the stage light up at Xander's calm words, and they stare with suddenly hopeful expressions, the older man pulling the children closer to him again. The large man turns to face Xander and Tess as they approach. His mood still seems mercurial, shifting between surprise, anger, and attempts at welcome.
Who - who're - it's not often we get visitors. This is just - it's my daughter, my Olya! She's gone, disappeared from her own home! No signs of struggle or nothing - good day to you, Lucian Groy here, head of our fine guard, you'll see our inn just behind here - it's The shadow-born, the freaks - welcome to you, we'll just ask that you check in with my chaps - don't you stand between me and the justice my daughter deserves! My baby, my little Olya, where is she? What's happened?
You can tell that reasoning with Lucian may be difficult in his current state. A few heads in the crowd turn at your approach, though, and you can see that, with most of their ire merely prompted by Lucian's rage, they may be more receptive to what you have to say.
"Im very sorry to hear about your daughter. As the captain of the guard, the town looks to you to mete out justice. I'm sure it is very hard when the victim is your own blood."
"My name is Xander, sir, and this is my... bodyguard, Tess. We are also here tracking a disappearance. I have very little to go on at the moment, and while I'm not sure if my case is related to yours, it is possible they could be."
"Whatever proof you have against these children must be impressive considering that there were no signs of a struggle."
"It might help me in my own investigation to have your experience on my side. Are you willing to share what you have discovered?"
"I'm sorry to hear about your daughter's disappearance as well as the others whom disappeared, and for a small community each person is like family.
But I ask this, Does anyone have any hard evidence they are responsible?"
"Tess, he is the captain of the guard. This isn't a lynch mob. Those are children. He must have evidence or he wouldn't be here." Xander said gently, looking to the Captain supportively.