"Usstan talinth dos phuul marrakelin jal l'jivvin." sounds the reply, while Fauhra takes up position next to the elder drow. Her black feathered cloak flutters slightly in a gust of wind, escaping through the open door.
Moira kicks Caggan "Stop it."
Then she walks over and enters the stage. "This gathering is disbanded. Everyone still here in ten seconds will feel the pain and wake in a cell." She still has no weapon in hand, but boldly presents her shiled with the holy symbol of Nethys on it.
Willow takes the hint and leaves the building, looking at the peasants with a smirk on her face.
The patrons at the table Clarice utterly destroyed jump up in horror. All of the locals decide that this is not their fight. Ten patrons and two barmaids vs. seven or eight "officials". Four of which stand a head taller than all others in the room, two are undead skeletons, that crazy kid that split the table in two and almost all strange or unknown races. Giving Clarice a wide berth they leave the tavern. It takes half a minute, but all get out without further ado.
Fauhra walks up to Clarice, a big grin on her face. "Dos lu'dosst ilharn morfeth reiyal natha basilia." she grins. Approval is writ large on her face.
"Daddy does most of the work. I just swing him." Clarice replies in common, with a somewhat shy smile on her face
"Seems like he cannot work if you not swing him" Fauhra replies in thickly accented common.
"But if he was not so sharp there is no way I could do what I did."
Moira leaves the stage and goes behind the bar. There she takes a glass and pours herself some ale.
"I am thinking you underestimate yourself, little girl." Fauhra says to Clarice.
"Hey, shieldbearer! You will pour me one as well? And perhaps see if there's milk for little girl?" she says as she starts walking in the bar's direction.
Ilvara has a different question for Moira. "Will you not call your minion back in? I believe he has the troubadour we need to interrogate."
"Sure. I heard Caggan say, it's on the house." Moira replies and pours another one. "Who else?"
"Bony? That's not my minion. He's a friend. My minion I left at home. But I guess we should get going and put Caggan on the pillory. Then we can interrogate the bard at jail. We just have to make sure to put him and his lute in different cells." Moira replies to Ilvara.
Downing her ale in one go, she leaves the bar. On the way out she hands Fauhra her order and grabs Caggan by the collar, putting him on his feet and dragging him after her.
"Do we wait for the others, or do we just bring them to jail alone?" Karthus asks Moira.
"I'm coming too." Willow tells as Moira comes out of the Tavern.
"The only thing that got hurt here was the pride of Caggan. This worked like a charm, didn't it."
"Yes we go. The others can come or not." Moira tells pushing Caggan to limp faster.
Fauhra takes the mug of ale, shrugs, and brings it with her outside, just drinking while she walks. "I think table was hurt too." she comments.
Ilvara follows the group out, rolling her eyes up to the sky for a moment. "You young races and your impatience."
"I'm not impatient..." Clarice pouts
Pushing Caggan and the Bard through town has something of driving cattle. It is for sure noticed by the populace and they are not overly excited about that kind of treatment. After a short walk through half of town the group arrives at the jail.
"I don't think the Archbaron will hold a destroyed table against us." Willow comments with a smile.
"Remember those times, when we could have a long walk without anyone saying a word? And the only words necessary were those to insult our enemies?" Moira reminisces while walking besides Bony.
"Don't run away. I need the key." Moira tells Caggan and goes inside to fetch the pillory key from one of the cabinets.
"I don't think he could if he wanted to."
"That would indeed look exhilarating if he tried to. Who is our interrogation specialist by the way - to make this troubadour sing like a canary?" Willow asks.
"I would be very surprised if a certain someone would not volunteer," Ilvara states while she looks at Moira. "But I would perhaps suggest you prepare the troubadour with your usual tactics, and then I can come in to do the finishing stroke if he hasn't spilled his secrets yet."
"There is no such thing as usual tactics for that. Our missions so far were rather undercomplex." Willow says, staying vague on purpose in the presence of the prisoners.
"That's why I ask if someone has experience here. It might get hard to understand the information he has - between all the groaning, coughing and spitting blood - once Moira is done with him."
Karthus puts the Bard into a cell and tells Moira: "The bard is in a cell but I don't have the keys."
"And I do remember. I'm sure after we or the others are done working for the baron, we can walk in peace again." Karthus replies to Moiras earlier question
Karthus isn't happy that Moira swore this vow.
"Here are the keys." Moira replies and tosses them to Bony.
"I know you don't like that line of work. But I have to eat, my hobbies are expensive and that Baron pays well."
"I wish we never would have done this first job, now you've sold your soul for money."
Karthus catches the keys, locks the cell door, gives Moira her keys back.
"Did I?" Moira replies with a smirk. "I thought that guy I got to bribe to get you back on your bony feet again got that already."
"Are we done now?" Clarice asks as everyone is locked up
"Wait what? I thought you did that on your own." Karthus startles
Moira walks outside again and puts Caggan on display, locking his head and hands into the pillory. "How many dead have you seen me raising?" she asks Bony. "Of course I did everything myself. But all with scrolls and stuff. And you can't get that kind at your general store."
"You have another date?" Willow asks Clarice.
Fauhra places the now empty beer mug next to Caggan. "I Think this is yours. Feel free to use it as you wish."
Clarice shrugs before replying, "I'm sleepy, and this is boring..."
"Where are we staying this night? Here at the jail and keep an eye on our prisoners?" Willow inquires.
"I Think tavern has no people in, tonight. We might make use of it." Fauhra grins.
"What's the limit for gatherings? Not that we break the law!" Willow jokes.
"It's six for private gatherings. So the two skeletons have to play dead if we're policed." Moira offers the numbers.
"Can't we just knock them down because they dared to mess with the sheriff? Karthus asks annoyed by these rules.
Ilvara rolls her eyes and sighs as she goes inside to visit the jail cells. Her accompanying skeleton stays at the door as she goes further in alone, listening to see if the bard makes any sound.
"You're quite hot blooded for not having any blood." Moira teases Bony. "Your sense of humor didn't survive your death, it seems. I don't think anyone would come to police us."
The bard is quiet and looks vervously at Ilvara. After some time of silence he can't hold back any longer. "What do you want from me. I only sang some songs to entertain the people."
Ilvara calmly says "Why don't you sing them again?" without changing her expression a bit. A small smile stays frozen on her features.
The bard freezes and stares at Ilvara. After a while of silence he believes that this were no joke and starts reciting his repertoire of songs he performed in the Last Stand Tavern.
His singing is no real joy. The lack of his lute and the fear might be part of that. From the ballads you can deduct that the bard came across a woman in winged plate armor at dawn atop a hill outside town. She was praying, and when the dawn light reflected upon her sculpted helm, Kels mistook her for an angel. He dropped to his knees when she approached, but she helped him up and told him not to be afraid. He asked her name
and she gave it as Lencia Visserene. Then she left, but it seems he was so inspired he wrote a lot of ballads about her.
When the troubadour finishes singing, Ilvara's only reaction is a slight raise of her left eyebrow.
"So. That's your repertoire?"
"So who is now putting the helm on and goes in breaking a few hopes?" Moira asks outside as the 'singing' ends.
"I have older songs. You want to hear those too?" the bard asks, sounding really unsecure.
"No... These were the ones I was interested in." Ilvara says, with her eyebrow lowering, but nothing else happening expression wise. "Which hill did you meet this... 'angel'?"