The gate swings open, and five armoured humans emerge, leading six horses. The one at the front marches up to Silas, then unties and unrolls a scroll, which he hands to the bewildered merchant.
”Silas Gribb, I am Sir Pelle Benhovy, Sheriff of Belhaim. This here is a warrant for your arrest, issued by the High Judiciar at Cassomir. You’re to accompany us to our lord Judiciar for arraignment.”
Silas’ mouth opens and shuts a few times, without actually uttering words. Finally he manages: ”But … arrested for what?”
The sheriff eyes him squarely. ”According to this warrant, which you might care to read, you’re arrested for smuggling.”
Silas remains bewildered ”But … I don’t … for smuggling what?”
”It doesn’t say. We’ll find out in Cassomir, I suppose.”
Silas frowns. ”But what about my caravan? My goods, my passengers?”
”They’ll have to remain here, I’m afraid, while we sort out whether the court exercises its right of confiscation. I’m sure this will be worked out fairly quickly. A few weeks at most, for them at least.” The sheriff pauses, just long enough for any rules of decency to be satisfied. ”Time to go, I’m afraid.”
He beckons over his deputies, who set about tying the hands of the unfortunate merchant. Silas looks back at Lensing, who has already nocked an arrow and is furtively gauging the range between her wagon and the sheriff. Sadly, Silas shakes his head - nothing to be done here. Lensing will know what to do; they had after all discussed, several times, the possibility that their mysterious antagonists might somehow manage to impede them at various points along their route. Though, to be fair, they’d discussed nothing quite this serious.
And so, Silas is tied up and placed on the sixth horse. With relatively little fuss, the group of horsemen set off back down the road along which the caravan had previously travelled.
===
It’s evening now, and the party members - including the caravan’s passengers - are sat around a long table, having a not particularly nourishing meal, washed down with watered mead, at the Wise Piper Inn. After Silas’ abrupt departure, Lensing organised the caravan through the gates and into the town, and managed to call in some favours from the tavern’s young proprietor, Talia Orem. The caravan’s passengers, including Avogadro, each have their own rooms. The guards are billeted together in the cellar. Lensing sent the caravan’s drivers forward to Faldamont to arrange for alternative transport to allow the paying passengers to continue their journey - the effective delay however will be at least a week. Finally, she managed to borrow a horse and has set off after the sheriff, and in pursuit of her boss, to help in Cassomir as best she can.
Arnon smile is absent tonight.
"I like law and order as much as any man. But to take weeks to see if a man is innocent or guilty... that is wrong. That only happens when a community grows away from the natural order, from the original community that gave birth to it. COMMUNITY. That is the word that gets lost in this bureaucracy."
He half heartedly eats the dinner.
"And also the flavor of a wholesome meal."
He looks at the others.
"As our job here is done, do you have any plans for the future?"
"Don't look so glum," Pipernortin mumbles between human-sized forkfuls of food. It wasn't good, but it was free. He planned to eat his fill twice over. "Now we can say we've worked in the employ of criminals! Or criminal--or alleged criminal. Same idea. Still a worthwhile experience, I'd say."
He manages to pause long enough to swallow the gob of food in his mouth, to the relief of everyone listening to his garbled words. "Is our job really done? We didn't even get paid! And besides, didn't Lensing send for some other wagons? I'm sure we'll pick up from there, get paid our wages, and in the meantime-" He points down to the plate before him. "-no sense in wasting good hospitality!"
Roet frowned and then blinked slowly.
Search for a job. Keep my path. Irori shall enlighten my steps. - said the monk, humbly looking at the cleric. Roet wasn't religious at all, and couldn't recognize Arnon's holy symbol at all, limiting himself to just look at it with curiosity.
He was particularly used to not each much at all. His childhood wasn't exactly exemplary, but it wasn't bad either; however, some of the monks took serious votes, sometimes staying for days without eating a thing.
What about you? - he finally asked back. Who knows, maybe the stranger's church needed some sweeping.
Arnon sighs.
"Look for a nice country girl that needs saving from a wild beast. Or whatever I can find. Maybe we can look together?"
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Garekk quietly eats his meal, listening.. as he always is. As Roet asks what everyones plans are, he contemplates his own future and where his steps may lead from here. "First, I do believe I will find some better food.. after that? I have no clue where my Geas may lead me. I shall continue my search for the truth.." His voice tapers off into wistful thought as he unconsciously rubs at the intricate swirl tattoo on the right side of his face. The young half-orc barely is old enough to shave.. but the weight of the world hangs heavy in his eyes and shoulders.
Pipernortin puts his fork down and looks around the table. For the first time since Silas had been hauled off, he looks completely and entirely serious. It is an unfamiliar look on the gnome's chipper face. "Wait, so are we really not getting paid? They just left us in the middle of the Verduran Forest and we're not getting paid?! Surely we haven't just given up hopes that they're coming back... We might as well write Silas off with the officials of Cassomir, but the antsy one with the bow, at least, surely, probably?" His eyes shoot around the table, desperate for some good news.
Teryn Gardfoot, the teetotal whiskey salesman from Faldamont, carefully places his glass of water down on the table. "I'm sure Mister Gribb's men will return with money. To free the caravan they'll have to pay their debts here in Belhaim. I think we should just sit tight." He smiles reassuringly at Pipernortin.
"This is the last we've seen of those people!" retorts M. Dukas-Kort, despite Gardfoot's frantic don't frighten the gnome glances and signals. "They've no money and the only people capable of sorting out their mess are beetling off to Cassomir, because they have no choice. And they're not coming back! I'm finding someone today to send to Faldamont for a carriage for myself and milady Komenos. And - by the way - I should add that none of us should be discussing something so grubby as money in front of a lady!"
L. Komenos nods in appreciation, smiling wanly, at her apparent guardian, though she obviously feels it polite not to speak. The Varisian, Esmerelda, rolls her eyes briefly at the administrator's use of the singular - a lady - but also remains silent.
Arriving late to dinner, Avogadro seems renewed.
"A good evening is wished upon all..."
Speading his arms he pirouettes. Loosing his balance half way through, he stumbles and turns his fall into a kneeling bow before Viviana Komenos. A large, very tatty looking, daisy appears in his hand and he offers it to the lady.
Rising, still waiving his windmill arms about...
"Are we all well? My room is splendid, the bed sheets look as if they've barely seen any use since they were washed two summers past! I've coins in my pocket, a fine banquet to appease the dark rumblings from bellow, and on the morrow a new town to explore!"
Sitting down, he begins to enjoy whatever food there is. Prestidigitising and making liberal use of a staggering array of condiments and seasonings from his suit jacket, offering them around ignoring any requests, then disappearing them back into his jacket.
Arnon looks at Garekk.
"What geas?"
At the others he shakes his head.
"I fear they won't be in a position of paying us. Even if they want to. Well, you win some and you lose some."
Talia Orem, the young woman who runs the tavern, enters with a plate piled high with fruit. "This, I'm afraid, is all I can do for dessert. We can probably make the mead stretch a little further, though.". She pauses on her way out. "Look, if I didn't trust Silas and Lensing, I wouldn't be putting you up. They'll find a way of paying you - and me. But we are where we are, as my father used to say. Anyways, more of, um, our special mead?"
"Thank you for calming our fears. Yes, more mead please. And if you can forgive me asking, do you know of some work we could get over here, while we get paid?"
Avogadro pauses his enthusiastic feasting, fork mid way to mouth
"The question we are all avoiding falls to me then. Very well."
Turning to Talia
"Dearest, most esteemed host, to whom we are all eternally grateful and all that... Did he do it? Was Silas Gribb a smuggler? If you don't trust the ears and tongues around us I quite understand..."
...but you can surely trust a whisper in my humble direction.
"I can assure you, Avogadro the Astounding is the personification of discretion!"
Talia puts her hands on her hips and - theatrically - makes a point of rolling her eyes. "I. Have. No. Idea. Seriously." she says, out loud. She looks at Arnon - "I'm sure, given some time, something will turn up. Ask around. In the morning. For now, eat your fruit and drink some mead."
Roet keeps his silence for now. He hears the conversation with undivided attention, focused in each person speaking or gesturing. Finally, he scratches his neck on the back and asks to be excused from the table. He had to meditate about what he was seeing.
hmmm, "no idea" not a no then...
Whilst chewing loudly
"tell me Den... Your soup-eel companion... Is he partial to rabbit?"
The slim druid slides into a seat and takes a mouthful or two of what was once vegetables then decides against the rest of his plate.
"Belhaim stew is not my favourite. Here Draken," as Den lowers the plate to the floor where the thylacine eats the meat and licks the gravy. In answer to Avogadro, he smiles gently and nods.
"Any meat, he favours anything like rabbit where there is a bit of a hunt and chase. But he is no great eater, seems to manage on less much as I do."
"As for our Lensing, the possible smuggler, and our enforced week at least here. I am glad to spend time with you in the town. Perhaps tomorrow we can explore the place a little? Now would anyone like some wine?"
"woooaw," yawns the thylacine.
As Talia is clearing the dishes away, the walls of the inn rattle as though shaken by thunder.
An individual, a human male whom you don't recognise, but assume to be one of the townspeople, runs into the tavern. "Incredible, you have to see this!" he shouts, breathless and giddy with excitement. "The Witch Tower has fallen! Come look, come look!"
Accordingly, everyone in the tavern runs outside, to see a huge plume of dust rising to the north-east, where indeed a tower had apparently stood at the time of the caravan's arrival.
Another local runs up to Talia: "They say there are dozens of dead kobolds in there, Talia! Dozens!", he shouts over the increasing din.
"Let's go and see if we can help..."
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Garekk turns to Arnons question and carefully considers his reply before he speaks.
"I left my clan under Geas. We are very secluded, and do not generally mix with outsiders. So, every generation we send one of our clan out to find out about the outside world. There have been rumors of great evil.. and tales of wondrous deeds that have reached even our ears. I was sent away that I may learn of these events, and the purposes behind them.. and can only return to my people once I have gained enough knowledge and wisdom to earn my place on the clan Council." His chest puffs out as he reaches the end of his explanation, his eyes gleaming at the prospect of returning to lead his clan.
As the rumble fills the air, Garekk jumps to his feet. "It sounds like a landslide! Are there mountains near here?"
When the townsman runs in, Garekk quickly grabs his kit and heads out the door, following close on the mans heels.
"Sounds like a worthy task, Garekk. I hope one day I will go visit you in your clan, and find a you great councilman among them."
Pip seems fairly disappointed that his chances of getting paid have been reduced to "'probably not, and even if you are it's not going to be any time soon.'
Taking his tankard of mead with him, Pipernortin races out the door behind the much-taller folks blocking his view of this supposedly fantastic sight. With a few pushes and prods he gets a better view of the sight, which really just amounts to a whole lot of nothing.
...Which makes sense, since the tower had fallen down, not gone up and was, in retrospect, probably not all that exciting to watch after the show was over.
"Huh. Musta been a nice tower if it sounded like a mountain falling over when it croaked. I'm a little sad we missed it... Though I guess a nice tower wouldn't be falling over."
He glances up at the frantic man talking of dead kobolds. He starts speaking, then raises his voice to match the man yelling over the rising sounds of Belhaim's panic. "Why were you keeping a dozen kobolds in your tower? And shouldn't you be upset that your kobolds have become flatcakes?" It was a strange thing to keep kobolds, but if Pipernortin had learned one thing from his travels, it was that humans were a strange lot. Who was he to judge?
The man does a kind of comedy double take while looking round for the source of the questions, then looks down and notices Pip. "What are you talking about? That's the point, there are no kobolds in Belhaim, not for many a year! And it was a ruined tower, that was owned by Master Hunclay!"
"Probably Princesses! If I had a penny of every tale I've heard of giant princesses knocking down towers full of dragons in distress..."
Avogadro lopes past the group, headed for the site of the tower, then skids to a halt
"Hunclay? No kobolds... yet a dozen kobolds? It seems to me we have found our smuggler, Master Hunclay has been smuggling kobolds! Maybe under his hat..."
Avogadro doffs his top hat, revealing a white rabbit sat upon his head
"Either way, we had best make haste to the rubble!"
"Oh."
Scratching his chin, Pipernortin considers this. The man seemed rather rude, acting as though he should have known the average Belhaimian didn't keep kobolds. ...Average? Pip follows this train of thought to its obvious conclusion as he himself follows the astounding Avogadro in the general direction of the ex-tower.
"So you think this 'Master Hunclay' was keeping kobolds, then? If he was, why'd he let his tower fall on them?"
Den snaps his fingers and Draken comes after him at a lope. The druid follows the others outside just in time to hear all the comments. Then they both dead towards the noise at speed, his shield on one arm.
At the site of the collapsed tower, two individuals seem to be wandering about looking for nothing in particular. They're dressed in a similar way to the deputies who took Silas away. One of them wanders about scratching her head, and the other stands with hands on his hips, chewing on a stalk of grass.
The man who spoke to Pip - and having ignored the gnome's subsequent question - follows the party up. "Look at those two idiots, the last two deputies in Belhaim, and the only ones Sheriff Benhovy very specifically didn't take on his little paid holiday in Cassomir! They've no idea what they're doing. Bumpkins, both of them!"
"We must look for survivors! Hurt people."
He approach the rubble, looking for signs of life, after asking for Erastil's help.
One of the deputies - the male one - approaches Arnon. "And what do you think you're doing?"
"My dear sir, I am Avogadro the Astounding...
pirouetting with spread arms again...
...and these are my personal guards. We have come, with a fortuitous timing only dreamed of by the gods themselves, may they live forever, to help you in this time most needy. To provide what assistance we can to any and all survivors of this unfortunate mishap..."
All the while he is talking Avogadro is walking towards the deputies so as to angle their view away from, and generally distract them from, the rubble. To anybody paying close attention his gesticulations may be indicating that the group should take advantage of this distraction...
Arnon uses the distraction to ask Erastil for the tools to gain the guards confidence and help.
"We only want to help... look for survivors. Please help us comb the place, and make sure no one is in peril. All the town is watching us, and they will be very thankful for you if you show them you care for them, and their safety."
(+2 if they are hostile or unfriendly, and if I fail at such an attempt, I may retry it once.)
Taking advantage of the great Avogadro's speech, Pip slips in behind the guards, standing between them and the rubble.
He steps closer--but not too close, knowing that he and these supposed kobolds were of basically equal size and squishability--and tries to look for any signs of what may have happened... either to the tower or the kobolds within. Or, failing that, if there was anything shiny enough to warrant this whole escapade into the Verduran. Only a quitter would give up on getting paid.
In any case, something had to be wrong here. It had sounded like a landslide, so perhaps that was it? He was no architect (though he'd met one once), but he was pretty sure towers didn't just fall over for no reason.
Roet was preparing to meditate when the events unfolded around here. Something strange was going on - kobolds, collapsing towers, a landslide - and now that he accompanied the stranded group toward the eye of the hurricane, even the speeches sounded forced. Plus, these people were making gestures and crying spell words to the wind, and the monk felt the strong divine and arcane energies floating around.
During this while, he tried to focus more on what could matter to him - lives could be at risk, and he wanted to make sure he could be useful if it was the case.
Edit: so I notice that there is rubble... Great
Den helps Roet to search, and tries to find anybody left alive.
"Be careful where you step, the rocks may not be stable. What did Master Hunclay work on?" he shouts over at Avogadro and the deputy.
At Avogadro's speech, the female deputy rolls her eyes. "Look, there has, quite obviously, been a major accident here. I have no idea who you are, or why you're here, but please go home."
She runs over to the area where the party is gathered and obviously trying to move forward and investigate. "I said - get back!", she shouts.
The male deputy, on the other hand, first stares at Avogadro as if he thinks the sorcerer is mad, with a growing frown that betrays a lack of desire for further complications this evening. But Arnon's evident sincerity charms him somewhat.
"Sir," he says, slowly, "My name is Varyl Hodd and this is my colleague Letha Mulle. We're town deputies, the only ones left while the sheriff and the others are out of town. To be honest, there shouldn't be any bodies here; this tower was already an old ruin and nobody lived here. But we've found a couple of kobold bodies in the stones - not the dozen I've heard people calling, by the way - and that's a strange thing as well, as we haven't seen kobolds in these parts for many a year. We've had a look and there's no more to be found, and the tower seems to have collapsed in on itself; so we're at something of a loss as to what to do next, to be honest."
The man who followed the party, listening nearby, shouts "What did I tell you! Dumb as sticks! This is on the wizard's land, he only bloody lives next door. Just go and ask Master Hunclay!"
Deputy Hodd glares back. "Look, if you want to be a deputy, go and pick up a form from the sheriff's office. Right now, we're deliberating our next move. Get lost!"
He turns to Arnon - "Maybe you can help - we obviously have to protect the site here from these ... souvenir hunters who want to grab at the rocks. I can't give you access to the tower without someone's consent - and the sheriff's out of town and milady the Baroness isn't here. So please grab one of the locals and check out the wizard's house, would you?"
As for what you can see of the wreck, and bearing in mind it's still surrounded by a substantial crowd. Only fragments of the first and second floors still stand. Black stone and broken wooden debris lie scattered down the hill's south-eastern slope, and a rocky ramp of sorts leads up to the tower's second floor.
Arnon sends a glance towards the man that screamed at the deputies. After that he answers Deputy Hodd.
"I understand, and I am only looking to help. I am glad there are no hurt people. We will go check the house, and report back what we find. Keep the good work."
He signals his companions to follow him, and lead them to the wizard's house.
At the door he explains.
"This is the house of the tower's owner. A Wizard it seems."
He knows at the door.
"Hello? Somebody there?"
He turns to his companions again.
"I wonder, why hasn't he got out? He certainly should have heard the tower collapsing... Maybe we should enter, and check on him."
Two of the locals, a man (the one that had indeed screamed at the deputies) and a woman, follow the group to the wizard's door. While Arnon knocks on the wizard's door the female towns-person shrieks in dismay and horror. At her feet is another - apparently so far undiscovered - kobold corpse, this one terribly charred, lying just close to the wizard's doorstep.
The male townsperson looks down at the corpse and then back at Arnon. "Are you people nuts? You go up to a wizard's door and just knock on it? Then talk about going in? How do you think the kobold got into this state? You think a wizard just leaves his door unlocked and untrapped in case random investigators come by? And I heard the deputy say, bring one of the locals. Where's one of the locals? They could have told you this before you tried it!"
There's no answer at the door, but the commotion draws a fair number people away from the group staring at the tower, and with fewer people to police, Deputy Mulle follows them. Also, at this point, a fancy carriage is drawing up at the scene.
A tall, well-dressed lady emerges from the carriage. "All right, what is going on?", she calls, to what are now two separate groups of onlookers.
Just before he turns from the rubble Avogadro casts Detect Magic
Avogadro is unusually quiet as they approach the house
A real wizard... there'll be no audience to be entertained here
After Arnon has knocked and spoken, Avogadro pipes up...
"Master Wizard sir, it seems there has been an event most unfortunate here. We are friends of the wise and the learned, the just and the true. You can talk to us, we are an understanding bunch"
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Garekk follows the party, but he is not much of one for the finer arts of diplomacy so he stays to the rear keeping an eye on the crowd and his surroundings. Such an excitable little man.. Garekk thinks of the outspoken.. and annoying.. townsman that continues to screech his dire predictions. Once he sees the charred body, however, his estimation of the man is grudgingly raised, albeit only slightly.
As the carriage rolls up, Garekk whistles out an alert to his companions, and turns to the occupant of the carriage.
"My lady, it seems this tower has fallen, and we were checking the health of the owner. There are mysterious things afoot, and the truth of what is going on is still unknown."
Arnon helps Avogadro's plea.
"We only wants to know if you are safe, or if you need help!"
There's no answer from within the house.
Huffing somewhat to keep up, Deputy Mulle tries to step between the adventurers and the door. "I know what Hodd said, but if there's no answer here then please just step away." She turns to the male towns-person, still at the front of the newly forming crowd in front of the wizard's house: "And as for you, Garron, I think you were told to get lost.".
"Oh ..." she adds, finally noticing and looking down at the charred kobold body and then up at the figure emerging from the carriage.
The individual in question looks at Garekk, as if she isn't used to being addressed by people she doesn't know. "Yes, young, er, man. I had heard the tower had fallen. And there is definitely a mystery here. But, to add to that mystery, who are you people?"
Deputy Mulle tries a deep bow. "Your grace, milady the Baroness. These people seem to be newcomers to town. The situation is very much under control, I assure you."
The character whom Mulle referenced as Garron then interjects "Don't listen to her ma'am. There's no control here, and your sheriff is off on a jaunt, if I may say so, ma'am!"
Avogadro turns to meet the carriage and steps forward as she makes her reply to Garekk
"M'lady, may I introduce myself. I am Avogadro the Astounding sometime entertainer of the masses, proliferator of amazement, and entirely at your service. We are are recently arrived at your magnificent town and merely wish to be of any assistance we can provide. As this nuisance of a man points out, you find yourself without a sherrif to call upon in this time of need, a circumstance we ourselves mourn greatly, and if it would serve your marvelous self we would investigate this matter for you? I'm sure the deputies here have far more pressing matters of crowd control to deal with."
Den and Draken walk behind the party unwilling to be drawn into the conversation with the noble lady. He checks over the body of the charred kobold to see if there were any clues on its person.
If Deputy Mulle steps away from the wizard's door then Den will attempt to open the door.
Arnon keeps being a "wingman" to Avogadro.
"The deputies are doing all they can, and we only want to help. I am a cleric of Erastil's faith, Arnon Marquez at your service. My companions and me are willing to help, if it pleases you."
Rather displeased when physically picked up and moved away from the fallen tower, Pipernortin crosses his arms and sticks out his tongue at the deputies the second they turn their heads. Keeping kobolds and now refusing help? What a strange lot of people.
When the group find the kobold, Pip locates the nearest stick and prods the body several times. When suitably convinced it's not dangerous (or alive), he'll go over and search the body to see if there's any indication of why the wizard's pet kobold would be on his doorstep instead of in his tower.
The arrival of a baroness comes as a bit of a shock, and Pip quickly tosses the stick off to the side, hopefully into some bushes or something, and joins the rest of the group greeting her. Again (as usual) he has to squeeze a bit to make his way to the front, but rather uncharacteristically he keeps quiet... for now. He'd learned long ago that Taldan nobility took themselves all too seriously.
Towards the back of the crowd, slowly Roet tried to be ignored. His humble origins and monastic votes made hard for him to understand the needs of people who considered themselves above others.
More relieved to not see anyone hurt besides the critters - the kobolds who decided to march against a wizard's tower - he basically made an effort to save names and faces in his mind.