The next several days of travel are, to say the least, a bit difficult. Thunderstorms and more rains of Titan's blood and tooth fragments continue on your trek south, but at least this time you know to keep an eye out for shelter. After each Vorestorm, you fend off a band of hunger-crazed goblins, only to be beset with stirges the next night and an ambush by spider-eye goblins the next. As the days go on, you see more and more refugees making their way toward the city- while your interactions typically begin friendly enough, even sharing the road for a time, something inevitably sours with each group you find yourself encountering to the point that you believe it must be the Titan artifacts Brother Theo and Lhienne are carrying. Lhienne is looking more paranoid and haggard as time goes on and she stays further and further separated from the party as you continue on toward the city, darting furtive glances at Heroiel and his holy symbol of Chardun.
The Fangsfall Peninsula's famous mild weather only catches up to you on the final night before reaching Fangsfall's gleaming white walls. You can finally sleep under the stars with a warm fire and hot food, which does wonders for your spirits in the morning...
... which quickly fall as you approach the city. The gleaming white walls and towers of Fangsfall stand proud and splendid in the bright noon sun, the clean ocean scent of Liar's Sound coming in on a gentle wind to encompass the incredibly long line of people and carts trying to enter the city. The gates are closed tightly and from what you can see at the end of the huge line, a group of guards and one very overworked city clerk are personally interviewing each refugee that's attempting to enter the city. It could well be days before you finally reach the front, judging by how things are going.
"That it does." mutters Heroiel in response to Djal's comment, although he likely did not even notice he had said it. Instead, he simply said "I need a moment." before darting off into the bushes. He returns a moment later, and all is right except that his holy symbol of Chardun is conspicuously missing.
Zdravko manages to push his way forward, despite the aggrieved shouts of the assembled refugees. About mid-way to the small service door where the official and her guards are processing people, a large Zathiskan man shoves Zdravko in retaliation. Two more equally large men step forward as well.
"We waited here three days already, milksop. Wait your turn or we'll cart you to the back of the line ourselves."
Shouts and jeers rise from the crowd. A clod of mud flies through the air at the berserker.
Mud hits him square in the chest and the assembled refugees laugh.
As Zdravko starts shoving his way forward, Heroiel mutters "He's not gonna like what happens next." to no one in particular.
Zdravko's slap passes an inch from the man's nose.
"Have it your way, you...", he begins, just as Djal starts shouting.
His friends close in on Zdravko as well.
"What he said! NO SHOVING!"
Two of the burly refugees jump on Zdravko, trying to pin his arms.
The third refugee turns to the rest of the party while the rest of the crowd cheers on the brawl.
"What about you lot, huh? You got a problem? This twerp speak for you?"
Brother Theodor steps forward and speaks to the thug addressing them.
"I am Brother Theodor, a follower of Madriel. My friends and I have very urgent business with the temple and need to get there swiftly. I am sure the church elders would look kindly on those who were able to help speed us along on our journey."
Persuasion:
Persuasion (disadv):
"I'm not like him. You put your hands on me, I'll keep them."
Zdravko throws two large men off of him and the crowd gasps.
"Stronger than he looks!", mutters one of them as he staggers back.
The trio look less eager to fight after their brief tussle with Zdravko and the carrot and stick approach of Brother Theodor and Heroiel.
"Hmph. Fine, go ahead of us and I hope you're all proud of yourselves.", the spokesman for the Zathiskan refugees mutters, crossing his arms and standing aside.
You don't encounter further resistance on the way up to the front, just hard, aggrieved stares from the huddled masses at the gate. With the portcullis down on the main gate and a mass of guards and archers stationed on the wall, there is only the small service entrance off to the side where a group of guards stands next to a fortified wagon and an overworked city clerk stands with arms full of scrolls, registers of nobility, writing utensils and a folding desk far too small for all the stuff she's carrying.
"Who are you and what's your business?", she asks the group of you, suspicion in her voice. "And who are you related to?"
"We've got business with two organizations. The first is the church of the Redeemer and the other is International Exports, Ltd. Hasdia Meroni specifically. We are here to fatten the city's coffers, not lighten them."
Instead of answering the question, Heroiel instead asked "Why are the gates closed?"
"We've got business with two organizations. The first is the church of the Redeemer and the other is International Exports, Ltd. Hasdia Meroni specifically. We are here to fatten the city's coffers, not lighten them."
Some of the clerk's suspicion subsides.
"That is reassuring at the least, the trouble back there in the queue certainly didn't make me more inclined to welcome you. But are you all residents here? I'm supposed to check my records to make sure you live here before I can let you in... and that usually means you have to be nobility to be on the rolls."
"Why are the gates closed?"
The clerk blinks, looking quite tired. With her quill she points to the lines of refugees.
"More and more of these folk arrive every day, looking for a safe place away from Titanspawn or the Hegemony. The city's already filling up, I doubt there's an inn or stable that isn't stuffed to the gills, some of them are sleeping on the street. Lord Vrail has ordered the gates shut and for each group of refugees to be, um, vetted before allowing for entry."
She sighs.
"I think his hope is that they'll give up and leave, but that doesn't seem to be the case..."
"My friends and I will stay at the church of the Redeemer, where I am a member. I was sent by my Curate to bring these people to him. I am a citizen of the city and if need be, I can vouch for my companions."
He shows his holy symbol and any papers that he would have to prove who he is and that he is a member of the church.
Heroiel spits and mumbles something under his breath.
The clerk looks over Brother Theodor's paperwork, shaking her head and sighing.
"No, no, no- this won't do at all. These are all vestment papers from last year, your superiors should have filed a new set after the Festival of Storms earlier this summer..."
Naturally, Brother Theodor's paperwork is only two weeks out of date- and his church surely couldn't send someone out into the Devil's March just to give him new paperwork.
She hands the papers back to Brother Theodor.
"You'll have to wait for entry while we send for a messenger, who has to get the new paperwork and bring it back here once it's stamped by a magistrate and cross referenced with your previous paperwork. It may be a day or two."
As Brother Theodor reluctantly takes his papers back, the clerk's hand continues to hold onto them for a moment.
"Unless... you wish to pay the processing fee yourselves? I may be able to expedite the process that way..."
Insight:
"I see...and how much is this 'processing fee'?"
”One hundred gold coins.”, she says, not missing a beat. After seeing the consternation on your faces she points out,”There are several fees involved, many parties that have to rework their schedules around the request. I’m sure you understand.”
"Ah, ok. Now that is for my entire group, correct?"
He keeps his eyes on the scribe.
She nods emphatically.
"Yes, yes. With your vestment paperwork completely processed, you have the privilege of vouching for this... colorful ministry of yours.", she says.
Zukhan watches Djal admiring the man's gift of gab. He already had his portion of the gold in hand, ready to pass over. He was happy to have the elf on his side.
”.... yes, I suppose bridge tolls *appear* to be inappropriate, but on the case of contingency...”
”... this particular tax covers waste removal and otyugh containment which I’m sure we can both agree is pertinent and necessary...”
Flustered, the scribe finally tallies the total “processing fee”.
”Well! With gate tolls and penalties, the city of Fangsfall’s adjusted fee is 50 gold coins.”, she huffs, the guards looking disappointed but slightly in awe of Djal’s rhetorical prowess.
Heroiel waits until the negotiations are complete and the group enters the city. He will then approach the first guardsman he sees and inquire as to the identity of the Captain in charge of the gates outside.
"I want to offer them my respects for the job their men are doing." he would explain if asked.
Once he had directions and the group had lodgings arranged, he would report the guards at the gate for bribery.
Brother Theodor smiles as Djal takes over the negotiations and pummels the poor clerk into submission.
"Well that sounds a little better. Here you are, 50gp for me and my group. Now, if you will let us pass we will be on our way!"
After some short inquiries, you find that the clerk's name on duty is Magistrate Zalindra Danut.
The side entrance is opened for you by one of the many guards on duty and you're quickly ushered through into the city of Fangsfall at last. Crowds choke every main thoroughfare, destitute people looking for work while merchants truck their goods to stalls, warehouses and docks. The afternoon sun gleams off of the unique, gleaming white battlements and towers of the city- almost every permanent structure is made from part of Gaurak's fallen tooth in Fang Quarry. The city is built in a semicircle around the Charduni constructed docks in Blossom Harbor, which are busy around the clock thanks to the Lamplighters Guild.
At the center of the city, atop the largest hill, is Vrail Keep- so renamed for the Grand Duke himself. The Keep bustles around its newly-reconstructed defenses (a precaution Lord Vrail took himself during his meteoric rise to power) with aristocrats, knights, magistrates and plaintiffs. It takes some time, but you find a magistrate with a stern demeanor and the four swords compass rose of Corean's faith on the holy symbol around his neck and promptly report the gate magistrate's conduct. He promises that the matter will be dealt with.
Lhienne thrusts a thoroughly wrapped bundle to Brother Theo and Zukhan.
"I can't handle this thing anymore. With the Unchained gone and this cursed treasure business... I can feel it getting to me. Destroy the damn things, sell them to Meroni or throw them in the Harbor- I'm done."
Brother Theodor also hugs Lhienne and give her a blessing.
"Be safe and may the Redeemer ease your way."
Once the farewells have been said, Brother Theodor, now with the dagger in his position, heads home, to the church of the Redeemer.
"I'd be willing to listen to what you have to say."
Zdravko spins the tale of his return from the observatory to the head astronomer, one Professor Teagle. Teagle is a rich man by inheritance and has chosen a life of study, employing a few craftsmen who specialize in optics and engineering, a mathematician for advanced theoretical work, and Zdravko for the more mundane tedious calculations.
Zdvrako's tale is hard to listen to, he speaks as if annoyed all the time, like he wants to just go to sleep and stop talking to Teagle as soon as possible. "...and anyways my abacus was smashed as well. I'd get a new one but some dirtbag at the gates shook us down, mistook us for some refugee trash." he slanders the refugees in way that makes you think its just something he heard someone say, rather than actually having that opinion.
Teagle takes a deep breath, which has the side effect of shaking out his long moustache. He turns to the rest of his assistants occupied with calibrating and polishing the massive telescope in the Natural Philosophy building's observation dome.
"Gentlemen, I'm going to take young Zdravko here for a bit of a walk- make sure he gets, er, settled after his return journey. Continue on and if you finish before I return- well, I won't be long, so simply continue."
He gestures for Zdravko to follow him down the stairs and back out of the building, into the walled garden around the lecture buildings.
"My lad, would you say that you have a passion for this work?", he begins, gesturing back toward the observatory. "Mathematics, astronomy, natural philosophy- all things that require a flexible mindset and a rigorous attention to detail."
He leads Zdravko through the garden and toward the streets.
"While I've found your calculations for the most part to be perfectly adequate, I must say that your heart doesn't seem to be in the work. Not simply the destroyed abacus and the business at the gate- but your attitude overall these last several... well, let's say the entire period of your employment with me. With most of my assistants, I can say with some confidence that they wish to maintain their positions- if not for their passion for knowledge, at least for the satisfaction of a good day's work."
You've reached the gate leading back out into the government ward. Professor Teagle stops, facing Zdravko beside the gate.
"I think it's best you take some time off- consider what you, Zdravko, would truly like to be doing with your time and attention. There's plenty of time left for you to right the course you're on, a young man like yourself. Come back in a few weeks if you decide this is really what you want to be doing, hm?"
Teagle nods awkwardly, walking back toward the natural philosophy building.
With your goodbyes to Lhienne out of the way, you head toward the docks where the Chapel of the Redeemer is located- the absolute opposite part of the city from Vrail Keep.
The crowds only seem to grow thicker the closer you get to the docks, carts and draft animals joining the throngs of people choking the streets. At least the ocean breeze off of Blossom Harbor keeps the omnipresent fish scent from settling too much.
The Chapel of the Redeemer doesn't look very chapel-like: it's a converted warehouse, donated to the clergy decades ago after an outbreak of Termanan Flu swept the docks. A line of refugees stand, sit or sprawl out the door as they wait for food, medical attention or an opportunity to work. A lay priestess of Madriel walks down the line, checking in with each group to see who is in the worst shape and who can stand to wait in line. Passersby glare at the new arrivals or ignore them while going about their business.
The lay priestess smiles warmly as Brother Theodor approaches.
"Brother Theodor! It is wonderful to see you returned safely!"
"Brother Theodor! It is wonderful to see you returned safely!"
"Thank you Sister Bernice. I am happy to be back. Can you tell me where the Curate might be found? I need to report to him right away!"