Redeemed pauses, looking from Almah to Priscilla, Priscilla to Zagathoth, considering the conundrum he has been presented.
She is Almah. She commands Garavel. She is Priscilla. She writes things. He is Gath. He is a good man.
They will let me speak with people. About fire. About the burned. I should speak thus.
”I will speak with people. The man helping the wounded. The woman cleansed by fire.”
Redeemed waits for several long moments, waiting to see if anyone objects; if not, he moves off into the camp to seek those he mentioned.
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Priscilla returns the grin to Gnasher, feeling the old ache to shift and bare her fangs. Pushing it aside, she considers his words.
"Commanded". Definitely don't hate that. Respect begets respect.
კარგი ნადირობა
"Good Hunting!"
Her cool green eyes flick back to their employer.
"Your troübles are over, Almah deär! If there are degenerati to blame then we will root them out by däwn. I've the ütmost confidènce in my compätriots."
Without another glance at the others, confident they can handle their work, Priscilla strides out of the tent with her chin held high and her hand waving back to them lazily. "Sharp eyes, miei cari!"
----------
Priscilla approaches the blackened husk of the carriage with a slight spring in her step and a fire in her eyes. Glancing over the charred wreckage, she gingerly begins to put on a pair of brown leather gloves before jamming the end of her cane into the earth firmly. In a fairly indelicate maneuver, she interlocks her fingers and cracks them all at once before bending down and examining the wagon and the nearby area, using the cane in areas that are too hot to handle.
+
Priscilla expertly scans the wreckage with a candled lantern, leaving no debris unturned.She also searches the immediate area around the wagon for anything odd, reveling for a chance to show off her skills.
Hello, what have we here...
"I hired Eloais in Solku about a month ago to read cards for me. My mother was from Varisia, and although I've never been, having a Harrower at my side felt right." She hesitates for a moment.
"I'm not convinced that this was arson," Almah explains. "but Eloais's readings have been increasingly grim of late. It feels too coincidental for me to ignore."
The man steps out from behind the wagon and glares at you. His tanned face is mostly hidden by lank, unwashed hair. The filthy rags he wears do little to conceal that he is powerfully built, although he steps towards you with an obvious limp.
"ვმალავ, მონსტრი, იმიტომ, რომ მე არ გენდობით," the man replies in perfect Gnoll. His hands moves cautiously to the hilts of his scimitar and curved dagger, the only possessions on him that appear to be well maintained. "თქვენ ხართ ტურა და მე ვიცი, ტურა. ძალიან კარგად."
"Thanks to your help, I think Kallien will make it. She was one of the first ones to try and save Eloais, but her heroism earned her those terrible burns and worse smoke inhalation." He pauses, as if for the first time noticing Redeemed's bizarre features. "Say, I didn't hear your name."
Even more strangely, despite the pollution of footprints around the wagon during the fire, there are numerous small paw prints darting up to and around the wagon. Your best guess for the animal involved is a jackal.
Redeemed bows his head in deference and greeting to Father Zastoran, and gestures at Zagathoth.
"I am Redeemed. I protect against sin. He is Gath. He is a good man. You are a healer. You helped those who were hurt.
"What do you know of the fire? Was it born from sin?"
There was a man inside. He burned. He might be the cause.
"Was the man inside full of sin?"
"I wonder if he saw his fate in the cards." Nemeris stood at the charred threshold of the carriage, looking over the remains of the diviner's belongings as Priscilla expertly picked through the smoldering debris.
The arcanist gingerly stepped across the blackened floorboards, taking care to ensure each step was sound before continuing. He imagined that plummeting through the floor to the smoking coals gathered beneath would be quite an unpleasant experience.
The harrow deck was strewn across the floor, the cards having somehow avoided the worst of the flames. "If you can, my dear, avoid moving the cards. I wish to inspect them. Perhaps we can glean something from the man's telling - even in death." Nemeris inspected the area with arcane sight, hoping for some clue to reveal itself.
Gath smiles warmly at Redeemed's enthusiasm to begin the questioning. "May the Dawnflower's rising bring new blessings upon you as well." he answers the priest's greeting.
After Redeemed's introduction, he offers a slight bow and adds, "a pleasure to make you acquaintance, Father Zastoran. My companion here may be a bit more direct than you are accustomed to, and I know that many are hesitant to speak anything I'll of the dead, but if you can think of any vices or character flaws that might have angered others, or any signs that he might have been engaged in practices that could have resulted in an explosion or divine judgement any information of that nature could be invaluable in figuring out what happened to him."
There is little more to be said after Almah tells Mital about hiring Eloais in Solkur, but her comment about the fire perhaps not being arson did intrigue her.
"Mistress, if you will indulge me, what makes you think the fire may have been accidental? I am not intimately familiar with the Harrower's art. Is fire used in their divinations?" she asks the merchant princess.
Seeing the dirty human laying his hands on the handles of his blades, Gnasher gently rests his right paw in the handle of his heavy flail, placing his left paw in the open mouth of the satchel his chakrams are in, measuring the distance to the spy. Drawing himself up to his full height, puffing out his chest, raising the hackles on the back of his neck, glaring at the man red eyes gleaming. In his rough commmon he demands
"Are you part of caravan? Or lost? Gnasher found no gnoll sign. Gnasher joined caravan with Garavel and five humans work for caravan as guard. Why you here?"
The priest frowns for a moment and then sighs. "Nethys take me, that makes me seem suspicious, doesn't it? I actually liked the man quite a bit. Not a one of these others here can discuss the poetry of Bellianais or the music of far-off Absalom. Eloais was well traveled and intelligent. He was fake, but I will miss him.
The man takes a step back from the much larger gnoll. "I am Dashki, the caravan's guide. I know the land and its dangers, especially the gnolls. Garavel says you check out, but I'm keeping an eye on you." And with that, the man stalks away, muttering.
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"By all means, magicïan. I've just conclùded my inspectïon of the wagon and found two points of relèveant oddness.
De first being that there were no signs of strüggle which leads me to belïeve he was asleep or maybe killed in a decepètive manner before the fire. And de second were these strangè animäl tracks clustered all aroùnd de wagon."
Watching the older spellcaster work his craft over the pile of cards, Priscilla pulls the missing card from its tucked away location and glances at it once more.
No matter how improbable...
"Now, I personälly don't hold much stock in the "art" of divinätion for dat is all it is-an ART. I'm a lady of sciènce and logïc, but I would be a fool to ïgnore such a sign as tis."
Priscilla twists her lithe fingers towards
Nemeris, offering him the card with a smirk.
"Too bad Eloais never saw tis coming, no?"
Mital stays with Lady Almah as long as the other woman needs her. Once Mital is dismissed, she decides it might be a good idea to speak the caravan guards.
She returns to her camel to retrieve her sari from her backpack, reasoning that rough-and-tumble caravan guards might get the wrong impression if she tries to chat them up in her more revealing dancing gown. Putting on her more formal red and gold court sari with her jewelry, she moves out amongst the caravan guards.
Hopefully, they will respond to her gentle inquiries about the origin of the fire.
"Nethys take me, that makes me seem suspicious, doesn't it? etc."
”Yes, it does.” Redeemed looks over to Gath, nodding his head, then back to Zastoran.
”How was he… fake?”
მე და თქვენ პრეტენდენტის Gnasher growls under his breath. As the 'guide' walks away Gnasher eases out into the darkness around the camp, keeping close enough that he can see what the gnollman is doing. As he moves about the darkness he watches to see if the camp sets up a good night watch.
Once Gnasher is satisfied that Dashki is part of the camp he returns to the fireside where the other members of the investigation have gathered to share information. As he moves within comfortable speaking distance, sitting on his haunches he waits until whoever is speaking is finished and then speaks. "Gnasher search around camp as commanded, find nothing. At burned wagon find two things. Many many foot prints, small like jackal. Gnasher not know whether creature go about on two legs or four. Gnasher also find man smell like gnoll, called Dashki, group guide, says he know land and danger. Dashki may know jackal like creature."
Almah's personal guards are a group of four stern men dressed in the distinctive red-chiten armor of the Pactmaster Guard. Their names are Fixx, Keldon, Podarn, and Vodrave, although it is difficult to tell who is who since they hide their face behind helmets. As a group, they are fairly uncommunicative.
"All four of us were standing guard at Mistress Roveshki's tent," the man called Podarn explains. You get a feeling he regards you as little more than a potential threat. "We couldn't see the wagon from where we were standing."
"I did see Dashki, being suspicious as usual," adds Vodrave (or was it Fixx?). "He was hiding behind a tree nearby when the fire started, trying to look inside the tent. The boy is obsessed with Almah."
The man was full of lies. Nothing was left after they burned away.
”I believe you.” Redeemed began to slowly look around. ”Where is the woman? The woman who burned?” All her lies have burned as well.
Assuming that the woman he healed is still unconscious, after anything Zagathoth has to add Redeemed will return to the others and listen to Gnasher’s report about the tracks.
”A small dog-man? A pup?”
"Thank you for your help, Father." Gath concludes as he gets up and follows Redeemed towards the next interviewee.
"I see," Mital says as she listens to the red-armored men. She tries to maintain la bella figura in the face of the Pactmasters Guards' barely disguised hostility.
"Master Dashki is the caravan's scout, is he not? Did he have some kind of quarrel with Master Eloais?"
'A small dog-man? A pup?' Gnasher looks oddly at Redeemer "Does burned one refer to creature leaving prints or human acting like gnoll?" looking around the fire, "Should Gnasher ask Dashki about jackal like prints or would Dashki respond to human better?"
as the other team members busy themselves Gnasher goes to the refuse pile to see it there are any bones or entrails to munch on...
"The creature leaving prints."
He is Gnasher. I like him. He asks good questions. He must be smart. He is a dog that can talk.
When Gnasher moves away, Redeemed follows after him, interested to see what he is doing. The gnoll begins sifting through the camp's refuse pile, searching for something.
"What do you look for?"
Gnasher pulls is head out of the refuse pit, one raw rib bone dangling from his mouth, three others in his paw, 'Is the burned one trying to take my food? No, he is just curious.' Gnasher waves the rib bones at the human, "Snack" being polite he offers one to the armored man.
---
The mercenaries are exactly where the cleric predicted they would be. A group of three men (named Trevvis, Utarchus, and Dullen) and two women (named Kallien and Yesper) sit around a campfire. The third woman (Brotis), the one Redeemed healed, lies with her back to the flame, covered in bandages. They are a disreputable lot, thick with soiled armor and greasy hair; a far cry from the well-mannered, meticulously soldiers that guard Almah night and day.
Trevvis stands when the two of you approach. "You were the one that helped Brotis, aye?"
"I see. Thank you for your assistance, noble Pactmaster Guards," Mital says, bowing low before her mistress's official bodyguards. She cordially withdraws from their company unless they try to stop her.
I wonder how much of what they say is truth. I have not seen this Dashki myself, and the guards were rude to me. I wonder if they are not exaggerating his barbarism. Still, if he was jealous of Lady Almah that could be an important bit of information. Let me check with the caravan guards before I got to the Contessa with this. She seems to be the most suited to these kinds of things.
Once she has spent a few moments on thinking about this new clue related to Dashki, she tries to mingle with the mundane caravan guards that arrived before her own group did, trying to politely get what information she can out of them.
'why is this Gnoll-man here, If he had been a slave he would have ran as far away as possible after escaping them.' Gnasher, still chewing on his rib bones, stops a reasonable distance from Dashki, stepping between Redeemed and the dirty, gnoll-smelling man. He again rests one hand on his axe and the others on the pouch containing his chakrams. 'I will speak human so Redeemed can verify my conversation.'
As Dashki asks "Did you say jackal prints?" Gnasher nods his head yes, and calmly answers "Jackal-like prints, same size, same number of toes, claw and pad marks in same spots. Gnasher not tell whether creature go on two or four legs, no scat markings to identify, prints too scattered and disorganized. Dashki said Dashki know area, what does Dashki know?"
As Mital steps up behind him and Gath, Redeemed answers the mercenary.
"Yes. I am Redeemed. I wish to speak with Brotis. She survived the flames."
If given the opportunity, Redeemed will ask Brotis if she knows how the fire started, and why Eloais might have been targeted.
***Meanwhile, back in the future***
Redeemed takes the proferred bone in one hand and studies it. Gnasher eats his food. Then he eats what others throw away. Gnasher is the best fed of all.
His train of thought broken by Dashki's interruption, Redeemed sticks the rib bone through his belt, then leans out and peers at the scruffy man from behind Gnasher.
Gath seems distracted as he follows Redeemed to the mercenaries. After his armored companion announces his desires, the young dancer suddenly remembers himself. "I wish I could take some credit for that good work, but it was Redeemed here who healed your friend," he replies to Trevvis. Extending a hand he continues, "Peace be on you. I'm Gath, its a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
While Redeemed wonders off after Gnasher, he sits down to try his hand at building a good rapport with the mercenaries...
"We were finishing dinner around the fire with something sturdy," the burnt mercenary explains. "when we see the wagon go up in flames. I ran over to try and save Eloais, but a burning curtain dropped onto my face. The man was a weakling, but nobody deserves to die that way."
"If you ask me, one person around here might have wanted Eloais dead. Dashki wanted to get rid of the competition."
Gath listens attentively to Gnasher and Dashki's conversation, wishing that he had some idea what the prints were or meant... He studies the guide's speech and mannerisms hoping to discern how trustworthy he is...
Mital listens intently to the chief guard. Of course she is not at all surprised to hear that woman suspects Dashki.
Mital has no further questions for the guards, and when the interview has wound down she says, "Thank you for your time miss. Please, return to your rest so that you may recover your strength."
Later
Joining in with the group speaking to Dashki, Mital is somewhat taken aback at the appearance of the man. She had anticipated some hyperbole about the guide when the guards described him as a brute, but it really did seem like he had spent his whole life in a kitchen midden.
Mital stifles an urge to wrinkle his nose at his smell, and simply listens quietly as Gnasher and Dashki discuss tracks that were found at the location of the burned caravan. She'll speak up if she has anything to add.
"Pugwampis." Dashki explains, as if the word means something to those around him. "It has to be pugwampis. We're in gnoll country after all. The idiot burned hundreds of candles in his wagon. Perhaps he just got unlucky."
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Priscilla, who had been up to this point tapping her cane against the dirt in thought, steps forward and gives the group a confident huff."Despïte my primo detèction skills, I found very littlè.No signs of a strùggle from the poor diviner. Though...there were quitè a few of those jäckal-prints aroùnd the burnt rùbble."
Priscilla shoots an amused glance towards Dashki, before scratching her nose to poorly cover a soft chortle from some private joke.
"I tink our foul smèlling compatrïot is corrèct. De fortune teller's demise seems to be a product of ignorànce and circumstänce. But dese creatùres appear ïnvolved. You called them...Pugwampïs?"
Gnasher nods in agreement as Dashki explains about the gremlin vermin. 'If he knows about the pugwampis he knows more than most human slaves. I need to find out what his relationships with the gnolls were and what god he serves.' When Dashki is done explaining about the gremlins "Dashki speaks true, pugwampis terrible vermin, very unlucky, could cause human candles tip over or make fire jump to curtains, very unlucky, Gnolls kill when can."
A neutral expression remains on Mital's face through the discussion. Internally, she has no idea what a Pugwampi is. To her, it sounds like an exotic disease from the Mwangi expanse. When Gnasher explains what they are, she realizes her first guess was not too far off the mark.
"What would attract these pugwampis to the camp?" she says, looking at Gnasher, slowly sounding out the foreign word.
it is a foreign word to her, I am not surprised few outside of gnolls have heard of them Watching Dashki from the corner of his eye, Gnasher squats near the fire with the others involved in the investigation. Shrugging his shoulders he answers Mital looking from team member to team member. "Gnasher not know why gremlins do what do. Maybe drawn to fire to burn something. Maybe drawn to camp to play evil tricks on humans. Maybe smell gnoll on Dashki and come to investigate. Whatever reason Pugwampi here, Pugwampi bad luck, probably caused wagon and friend of Almah to burn."
Gath does his best to engage with the conversation but his lack of context and the fact that he has no idea what pugwampis are make it challenging...
"Is it possible these creatures are still among us?" he asks with some concern, "Should we go back through the camp searching for them?"
Gnasher shrugs, "Gnasher only see prints near wagon, Gnasher search around camp earlier, saw nothing. Pugwamnpi probably cause fire then leave. Pugwampi solution to mystery, no traitor, just gremlins. We tell Almah we solve problem, maybe Almah want Pugwampi hunted. Maybe Almah have other task."
Realizing he didn't answer Gath's question he shrugs again and adds "If Gath want to look for Pugwampi him can, Pugwampi ugly dog faced gremlins, leave prints like Jackal. Gath know him find Pugwampi when something bad happen, Pugwampi very unlucky for humans."
Nemeris looked down at the card Priscilla had handed him. The arcanist didn't place as much weight in divination as did some of his old colleagues had, but he could see the strings of fate tied all around this event. Maybe this fire wasn't deliberate, but some malevolent force was certainly at play here. This fire was no accident - at least, not the naturally occurring kind.
Snapping out his reverie after what seemed like an eternity, Nemeris noticed that that he had been left alone with his thoughts. Glancing around, his shrewd companion was nowhere to be seen. Breathing a sigh, he tucked the card into the breast pocket of his tunic and left the ruined wagon in search of the others.
When he came upon them, they were in the middle of a discussion with Dashki, the caravan guide. "It has to be pugwampis. We're in gnoll country after all. The idiot burned hundreds of candles in his wagon. Perhaps he just got unlucky."
Nemeris took the card out again and looked at it. He had heard of pugwampis when he was last in Katapesh, but hated to say he knew little about them other than their notorious reputation. He stood back and listened while the others discussed. If such creatures were involved, it would certainly explain what had happened to the Harrower. Once the Gnoll had finished, he joined the party, coming to stand next to the ifrit. "This new development should be brought to Almah's attention immediately. What we do next is her decision to make."
---
"Pug... wampis?" Garavel asks, his usually even voice thick with incredulity. "Forgive my skepticism, but this seems to be an easy lie." The majordomo stands behind and aside from Almah, but he is near enough to leap to her defense should the need arise.
"I don't know, Garavel." the merchant princess interjects. "Our expert swears by his innocence and our newest companions seem to believe his tale. Still..." Almah's sentence trails off. She has taken the time it took to interview the other camp members to compose her hair and dress in a simple orange robe.
"I am not prepared to convict Dashki without concrete evidence," she explains. "If he is to be believed, the hills surrounding our camp should be crawling with these pugwampis. If they exist, it should be easy for him to find one and bring it to me." She turns to you.
"As he is, however, our strongest suspect in this affair, it would not do to send him out into the darkness alone. I'm afraid that your investigation is not yet at an end. Take Dashki into the desert and find me a pugwampi."
'Garavel is smart to not trust Dashki or to believe in Pugwampis easily. I would not believe if I had not seen the prints' Squating respectfully in the back of the tent, Gnasher watches carefully as Garavel and Almah speak back and forth about the human who smells like a gnoll and the pugwampis tracks. When Almah addresses the team Gnasher responds, looking first to Garavel and then to Almah. "Gnasher not trust Dashki, however Gnasher seen Pugwampis tracks. Pugwampis bad luck, easily cause fire. Dashki's guilt only being more gnoll than human." The Irony of Gnashers accusation not showing on his demeanor, he stands in preparation to leave.
Gath begins readying himself to set out. He responds to Gnasher's comments in an effort to both smooth over his interaction with Alamah and Garavel, and to explain their concerns to him... "We must not jump to any conclusions, Gnasher, the camp cannot afford another fire. So we must be certain that whatever the real source of danger is we have dealt with it. Going out to find a pugwampi will allow us to confirm they are about, but also to search for any signs that someone or something might have lured them to the camp..."
Truth be told, Mital is not at all convinced that it was these "pugwampis" that started the fire. By all accounts it sounded like there was a love triangle on this little expedition, and if there was one thing Mital understood, it was that just those sort of situations could lead to murder.
But she was not on this expedition because people valued her amateur sleuthing skills. Almah seemed keen on investigating these strange creatures, so she would go.
Once the group is assembled, Mital decides it would be a good time to tell them of the nature of her magic.
"My friends, before we should set out, I should let you know that I possess a little of my father's magic. If one of you should wish for something, I might be able to grant it with a spell I know. The spell would be a little stronger thanks to my power of Wishcrafting. I, ahem, am no great sorceress, but it may come in handy later."
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Priscilla shifts her curious eyes to the fiery haired woman, adjusting her glasses and taking in her words.
Magic from wishes? I am certainly not in Cheliax anymore...I must watch what I say around this one.
"I have no doubt dat your magïc will be suprèmely helpfùl in de coming days, but I doubt we will need it on a sïmple rodènt hunt, no?"
She gestures towards Gnasher with a look of incredulity.
"And not to cäuse a fuss, but certaïnly no sènsible person here trully belièves in luck. We MÄKE our own luck via prepäration, and dedicätion."
Before anyone can directly respond, she raises her hands defensively, emphasizing with a pointer finger.
"Regärdless. We will find dese pesky murderous creatùres and rèturn a corpsè to make some sense of all dis!"
Gnasher shrugs his shoulders at the intelligent female human leader as he opens his mouth and hangs his tongue out, saying. "What commander say true, however, Gnasher not know gnolls to be "sensible person."
Assuming the meeting is over, taking a rib bone that he rescued from the refuse pile out of his belt, he begins to crunch on it loudly. stepping outside the tent, he holds the tent flap open for those who are following.
as Priscilla exits he adds:"წარმატებას ან მის გარეშე, შემიძლია თვალყური ანაბეჭდები ღამის ან დღის განმავლობაში, თუ ჩვენ ახლა ადამიანები უნდა ზოგიერთი შუქი. ზოგიერთი უნდა მიიღოს ადამიანის სახელმძღვანელო, ის არ ჩანს, მინდა ძალიან ბევრი, ასე რომ ალბათ უნდა იყოს ვინმე. მან, როგორც ჩანს მოსწონს საკმაოდ ადამიანის ქალი იქნებ ჩვენ უნდა გაგზავნას ცეკვა მხევალი."
"With luck or without I can track the prints in the night time or the day, if we go now the humans will need some light. some one should get the human guide, he did not seem to like me very much so it probably should be someone else. He seems to like pretty human females maybe we should send the dancing slave girl."