Sandpoint, 3rd Erastus 4711
This is the tale of an unlikely group of adventurers, brought together by fate or by chance, who would rise to the protection of the Lost Coast and would become legends and heroes of this untamed land.
Our story begins in Sandpoint; A small but growing, and relatively new, coastal town that rests within a natural cliff lined cove along the edge of the Varisian Gulf. While technically a holding of nearby Magnimar, Sandpoint's location ensures that it is left mostly to its own devices. Governed by Mayor Kendra Deverin and is guarded by the watchful eye of Sheriff Belor Hemlock, who commands the Town Watch, small though it may be.
Despite it's relatively young age, Sandpoint has seen its share of important events. From the town's founding by "The Four Families" and the rather violent disputes between the colonial Chelaxians and native Varisians, to the Late Unpleasantness of 4702, which saw a string of brutal murders ravage the town by a serial killer known as the Chopper, which culminated both in the murder of the previous sheriff and The Chopper's death and unmasking - revealing him to be a kindly old woodcarver by the name of Jervis Stoot - by Belor Hemlock. Shortly after this, the Town's chapel was engulfed in a mysterious fire that claimed the life of the Town's priest and his beautiful daughter.
It was only five years after these tragic events that Sandpoint was rocked once more. In 4707 the Town was faced with Goblin raids and an invasion of Giants, but this time she was not without her heroes. a Group of adventurers led by the warrior Valeros rose up to defend Sandpoint and the entire world from these threats, which were revealed as only the opening attacks in the Runelord Karzoug's bid for Resurrection and immortality. While these heroes saved all of Varisia from Karzoug's wrath, They were never seen after their final battle with the Runelord.
But Sandpoint is a town that's resilient by nature. Full of life and hope rather than anger or despair and the community presses ever forward, rebuilding themselves stronger every time.
But Sandpoint, and indeed all of The Lost Coast, has yet to see the last or the gravest of the terrors to plague them, But heroes can be found in the unlikeliest of places and as a new day crests in the east, painting the ocean in glimmering golds and pinks, the possibilities are endless.
The planks of the old staircase the curves from the side and around the back of the outside of the Fatman's Feedbag creek treacherously under the steps of Daemon Grizwold. His hands run along the faded and chipped paint of the rail while he walks along the upper balcony, passing a window to one of the few rooms that the Feedbag rents out, from which he can hear grunting moans and shrill cries that could deafen a harpy. He can't help but smirk a little, at this early hour it was likely a whore, or some girl who fancied herself a courtesan. Wouldn't be any of Kaye's girls though. Kittens steered clear of the Feedbag.
Daemon comes to a door at the end of the balcony that has a sign - as faded and cracked as the rail and the walls - that reads Daemon Grizwold, Private Detective."
The lock unhooks with a click and the door swings open with a grating creek. A shaft of light from the room's sole window pierces the morning dim, a swirling cascade of dust can be seen dancing in its light.
He enters his office and hangs his sword and belt on its usual hook. The room is sparsely furnished with an old desk and worn leatherback chair, and a table and two chairs. Those and a few cabinets and chests that contain the notes of old cases, and small sword and sunburst of Iomedae that hangs on one wall. Aside from that, the room is bare.
Going through his routine, Daemon first checks the windowsill. No pigeon, so no work from Titus today. All the better, he supposed and sat himself down at his desk.
Barely an hour had passed with the door creaked open again. Daemon looked up and he felt his heart jump into his throat. Calistria herself may as well have just stepped into his office.
She was beautiful, there was no denying that. Tall and shapely with golden blonde hair pinned up behind her neck and bangs tumbling over her ears - pointed ears, a half-elf - and to the side of her startlingly pale blue eyes. Her lips were full and red and her eyelashes spoke of wonders unknown to any man every time she blinked.
She wore a dress of blue and silver, elegantly ornamented and cut to fall and frame her body in a way that hinted at the provocative without traipsing to the lewd.
She smiled at Daemon as she entered, her voice flowing like a cool breeze, "Master Grizwold? I'm told that you're adept at finding people."
Koveluss Vossare felt the sweat drip through his hair as he gripped his longsword in one hand and held onto the palm of Lady Gwenivere with the other. "Wait!" she cried as the two exited the castle onto a single balcony, gripping the young Paladin by his plated arm. She pulled him toward her, "If we don't escape... I want you to know that it doesn't matter what father said, I've always loved you."
Koveluss smiles, and slips an arm around the fair maiden's waist, his nose inches from hers, "I know," he answers with a grin, "and I promise that today will not be our last sunrise."
"Ho ho ho ho! Don't make promises you can't keep little Knight!" the voice rang from the darkness. In a gout of flame, his nemesis appeared. a Demon ten stories tall! with glowing red eyes and skeletal features as black as night. It towered over them like they were bugs. "For you, the sun will never rise again!"
"We'll see Demon!" Koveluss cried, hefting his shield and sword. Without hesitation he charged, a foot going up to the Balcony's rail, sword high he launches himself toward the gargantuan fiend, "For Aroden!!!"
... And is jerked to a halt in mid air, the a child's string toy.
"Cut, cut cut!" Cyrdak Drokus yells in exasperation from the theatre's front row. The window's shutters are opened, letting in the fresh daylight, and spot torches are covered and snuffed, taking away the angled lighting. the wooden mail itches around Koveluss' neck as he dangles from the rafters while the paper mache demon collapses in on itself with stagehands pulling the pieces down.
Cyrdak Drokkus is dressed in the same style he always is, which is always the latest fashions from Magnimar. His brown hair - now greying - pull back in a sharp ponytail. His long features wrinkling from the first signs of age. Stark white breeches, high black boots, a doublet of cream and pearl offset by a high collared, twin tailed, blue coat. "Viorec, what happened?"
"I'm sorry Cyrdak," Viorec, a middle aged varisian, and the theatre's technical director apologizes from his places in the rafters, speaking while he slowly lowers Koveluss to the ground. "It's our first time with this rigging equipment. We need more time to work it out before rehearsing with it.
The ostentatious man sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with squinted eyes, [b]"Fine fine. Koveluss, Shayliss," he waves a hand to the actress on the balcony, "Take five, I'll send someone for the two of you when we're ready to start again."
"It'll be fine, boss; Viorec knows what he's doing." Almost as if on cue the rigging goes limp, dropping Koveluss a foot before catching him once again. The man twists to look up at the stage hand, a wry smirk on his face. "At least, it'll be fine so long as he remembers not to slack off. If you plan to drop me on opening night, would you at least try to find me a soft place to land? I can find some ladies to fill the front row, if it would help."
The common room of the Rusty Dragon tavern and Inn was bustling, but then again there really was rarely a time when it wasn't. Guests were already rising from their rooms and locals were streaming in. Cups of cider were doled out and The tavern's head waitress, Mirelinde Mvashti, was already busy running out piping hot bowls of Coconut Chicken Curry with rice, one of Ameiko - the proprietor of the Inn's - specialties.
From his perch near the back end of the bar, Yosrick pushes himself up onto his elbows. Dark bags under his eyes, his hair disheveled and his head pounding, Yosrick finds that he really can't recall much of the previous night's events. It would seem though, that he never went home.
A bowl of curry is dropped in front of him, alongside a tankard of milk, Mirelande stands on the other side of the bar, her eyes full of concern as she eyes the man, "It's on the house this time," she tells him, before turning away back to her other customers.
Kyouraku Kanatou's gasps a ragged breath as he snaps his leg up in a high side kick, feeling it lightly slap against his father's hand. launching himself forward with his stable leg he twists in midair to attack the other side, only to be deflected by that same limb. Falling into a crouch his fist punches forward and again it is deflected.
His father takes another retreating step, his left arm tucked behind his back "Again" he commands, his features calm, his voice measured and his skin dry. A complete contrast to Kyou's flushed skin, heavy breathing and sweat drenched clothes. But as the elder Kanatou backs to a tree, Kyou sees his chance. Leaping forward with a warrior's cry, he torque's his body in mid air to deliver a spinning kick to his sensei's neck. His speed, timing and execution all flawless.
His foot cracks painfully into the tree and with a yelp the younger Kanatou falls to the ground.
"You focus too much on the outcome," Jonosuke instructs him in his measured and quiet voice, standing over his fallen son with hands clasped behind his back while Kyouraku rubs his sore foot, "If you look too far ahead you will miss what is now. And if that's is such, you will find yourself vulnerable."
Jonosuke offers a hand to his son and helps him to his feet, "Your skills are improving. I'm proud of you. Enough for today though!" Clapping Kyou on the back, he turns to guide his son back down the path towards Sandpoint proper, "Sheriff Hemlock leaves for Magnimar today and has promised to deliver some of your salt cod to the markets there. We mustn't be late."
His eyes look over the woman's dress, as if in admiration, which was partially true. He also tries to determine the make of the dress to better guess where abouts this woman may be from, or at the very least, where she likes to shop around the city. His pause before answering is greater than usual, her beauty obviously catching him off guard.
He stands slowly from his side of his desk, moving over to the table, dusting a chair off bashfully and placing it before his desk, before finally answering the woman, "Some do say that, I suppose. Please, have a seat." He was going to correct the woman on her usage of a title, but he thought it best to just let it slide and not argue with the illustrious beauty.
From his place in the rafters, Barrel chested Viorec lets out a below of laughter, the chords of his muscled arms flexing taught as he lowers Koveluss the last few feet to the ground, "I'll see what I can do for you. but that's not very saintly behavior, no?" he laughs again while letting the ropes go slack as a pair of his stage crew work to unharness Koveluss from the rigging.
"I'm glad you find this all so amusing!" Cyrdak fumes, stalking back and forth in his clicking measured cadence. "Three weeks," he bemoans, "Three weeks until we open the first production of Aroden's Knight ever to be seen in Varisia and we can't even get in a full rehearsal yet."
While the somewhat flamboyant director's rant is over the top, Koveluss has to admit that the man did have a point. Aroden's Knight was the story of - supposedly - the First Paladin of Aroden. A fairly new piece, the play had won critical acclaim in Absalom, and had rave performances in the Royal theatre of Taldor and in Andoran as well, it was however a technically demanding piece that was said to be nearly impossible for all but the most financially and technically sound theaters to produce. But when a rival of Cyrdak's in Magnimar managed to produce The Sixfold Trials of Larazod - heavily edited to there was far less actual death, of course - Cyrdak would not stand for any less in his venue.
By the time that Shayliss Vinder, Koveluss' co-star had made were way from behind set to the stage, Viorec had informed Cyrdak that it would be at least an hour before the rigging was reset. "Fine, fine fine." the director mused, the vein on his temple throbbing, "Everyone else take an early lunch."
Smiling her pretty smile, Shayliss slips an arm through Korveluss and asks demurely, "Care to find breakfast with me then?"
A bowl of curry is dropped in front of him, alongside a tankard of milk, Mirelande stands on the other side of the bar, her eyes full of concern as she eyes the man, "It's on the house this time," she tells him, before turning away back to her other customers.
"Mmm. Thanks." Yosrick mumbles in a low voice, afraid to speak any louder for fear of the pounding pain that will accompany the noise. He slowly reaches into his satchel and pulls out one of the precious pouches of Alchemist's Kindness that remains and pours it into his mouth, without bothering to mix it in water like you're supposed to. He makes a face, then swallows hard and puts his head down on the table to await the cool feeling that washes over him when the hurting stops.
After a few moments he feels alive enough to pull the curry toward himself and start shoveling it into his mouth, less tasting it than simply refueling. He finishes, belches and wipes his mouth, blinking to clear his eyes.
'Back to the dig today. Got to excavate that final room before Brakkus gets to it. Bastard will be a right prig if he gets first crack at the etchings in there. Never hear the end of it.'
The lady takes the seat offered, crossing her legs and folding her hands upon her lap. Her dress is definitely stylish, new and expensive. It's an elegant cut and very modern, definitely one of the latest fashions popular in Magnimar right now. While Sandpoint had citizens who could easily afford such clothes, they were prominent enough that Daemon would know them. The woman didn't have an accent that stood out, so she was probably a native of Magnimar.
Waiting for Daemon to reseat himself, she casts an eye over the office before saying, "My husband has gone missing. I need you to find him."
He returns to his side of his desk, taking his seat and leaning back listening to the woman's soothing voice, trying his best to not get lost in it. His eyes follow hers around the office, a slight blush on his stubble covered cheeks. "Missing, hmm? I assume you've already been to the Watch, and they've turned the search down?" His hands rubbing against his stubble, a scratching sound that typically accompanies the habitual gesture echos lightly in the room.
"Or, are you trying to be more discrete?"
Koveluss' smirk turns into an open grin as his feet touch the stage. He calls again to the stage manager before Cyrdak has an opportunity to object. "Ah, but the hero of the play will never be a saint unless we can reach the story's end. Perhaps there are benefits to getting strung up in the rigging."
"My dear Miss Vinder, you honor me. How could I refuse to be seen in the company of Sandpoint's greatest upcoming star? Did you have any place in mind, or should we simply wander and see where our feet take us?" Koveluss accepts Shayliss' offered arm and leads the young woman out the door.
Yosrick cleans out the bowl of curry after his stomach stops roiling enough to let him. Resting his head back on the bar for a moment, his attention is drawn by the clatter of his discarded bowl being picked up. It is only when the shadow over him doesn't move that he bothers to look up.
It wasn't Merilande like he expected. Instead Ameiko Kaijitsu - the Rusty Dragon's beautiful owner - looks down on him with an expression that seem ed to be a mix of exasperation and amusement. "You look like something that crawled out of a goblin's ass," she states in the same matter of fact tone that one would use to comment on a cloudy day. After a second she sniffs the air and her nose curls a little bit, "Smell like it, to."
She smiles a coy little smile, as if the two of them has just shared some private joke that the rest of the world was unaware of. "Nothing so sinister, I'm afraid. However the Watch says he never arrived in Sandpoint. We own a number of businesses in Magnimar and my husband was making his annual trip along our caravan route, in order to negotiate new contracts with those craftsmen we import from. His caravan apparently never made it to the city."
Yosrick cleans out the bowl of curry after his stomach stops roiling enough to let him. Resting his head back on the bar for a moment, his attention is drawn by the clatter of his discarded bowl being picked up. It is only when the shadow over him doesn't move that he bothers to look up.
It wasn't Merilande like he expected. Instead Ameiko Kaijitsu - the Rusty Dragon's beautiful owner - looks down on him with an expression that seem ed to be a mix of exasperation and amusement. "You look like something that crawled out of a goblin's ass," she states in the same matter of fact tone that one would use to comment on a cloudy day. After a second she sniffs the air and her nose curls a little bit, "Smell like it, to."
"It's just another one of my charms, darling: fragrance. So what you brings down to slum it up with us commoners?" Yosrick pushes back from the table and smiles up at her, wincing a bit as the last of the headache fades.
He looks at the woman, judging her and weighing her statements with his piercing stare. " So, I understand the situation. I assume the outcome is you want to know his whereabouts, Ms?..." he trails as he awaits her to introduce herself.
Walking arm in arm with Shayliss, Koveluss exits out onto one of Sandpoint's winding dirt roads. The Sky is a clear blue and the sun shines brilliantly. A warm summer breeze drifts by with the smell of the salt water wafting by.
"Well then, what shall we have for breakfast?" Shayliss asks as she squeezes the actor's arm, "I hear Ameiko's got a fine curry on today, or maybe the White Deer has some sausages? Or we could..." he words trail off as a single hose comes running up the southern end of the Loast Coast Road and through the - thankfully empty - market square.
As the horse races past, Koveluss sees that it is fully saddled, bridled and geared... and completely riderless.
Ameiko raises a skeptic eyebrow at Yosrick, "You mean aside from the fact that it's my bar... I mean I am just the sort of girl who'd rather falute and preen like a good little noblegirl." He derisive smirk is all that needs to be said about her thoughts on that, "I'm down in my tavern cause it's where I like to be. I'm subjecting myself to talking to you," she smiles teasingly, "Because I good friend of mine came into town last night, and asked for me to find a field man and guide for him. thought you might be interested."
She nods to the far end of the bar. Sitting and nibbling at a plate of curry and rice is an elderly man, lean and lanky with a mess of slightly cropped grey hair and a face of stubble, dressed in a long leather coat and travelling leathers. a Well worn pack rests of the foot of his stool, and a Wayfinder hangs from his belt.
She smiles again, eyes that sparkle and laugh in themselves, cheeks red as an apple, lips of crimson and teeth white as pearl, "Dubois, Lydia Sparrow. My husband is Jon Dubois. And yes I would like you to find out what fate has befallen my husband and his caravan, and if at all possible deliver him from harm."
Her words are all right, but her tone is wrong. Her easy demeanor, her light flirtations. For whatever reason this woman wants Daemon to find Jon Dubois, it isn't for fear of his safety.
Yosrick leans over to look the man over. "Well, I might be. How do you know the man and how well? Is he trustworthy? How's his gold?"
His mind wanders as he digests the information she's given him. 'I'll have to figure out who this Jon Dubois is, and his relationship to this woman too... Something is off' he thinks to himself. He lets out a soft sigh after she finishes speaking, taking a bit of a longer pause before responding.
He nods his head to the woman curtly, "Mrs. Dubois, then. Now - I'll need the names of all of his craftsmen contacts to better understand his trading routes. Also, there's the matter of the fee..." He purposely evades the cost specifics, using his tact to better gather her desperation for him to find her husband.
Koveluss' eyes follow the horse with intense curiosity. "The White Deer is north. Sausages sound like a fine idea today; let's go north." Guiding Shayliss by her arm, the young summoner hurriedly follows the animal as it races through town.
Ameiko laughs out loud at the one, not derisive or mocking, but a sarcastic one all the same, "Pretty s!#&e, actually. Hasn't paid his bar tab in awhile..." she stops short for a moment, as if having a revelation, "Is that something all you graverobber types do?!" grinning at her own joke she continues, "Whatever he's paying, you'll have to work out with him. But really it has to be more than you're making in that mudhole you and Brakkus are fighting over. Really I thought you'd jump at the chance to work with a real life pathfinder. If not though I'll send him Brakkus' way."
Shrugging to herself she turns to walk away.
Lady Dubois nods to Daemon's request, "Of course, though I have checked in with Lady Kaijitu. This isn't a trade caravan though. We simply act as an export firm for a number of your local businesses. Our biggest client is Sandpoint Glassworks, they're sculptures are all the rage in Magnimar right now, and there's always call for windows and what not. Aside from them we also offer outlet services with Red Dog Smithy and the Pillbug's Pantry. We also import items for Savah's armory and The Curious Goblin, when such are available and asked for." Smiling seductively she continues on "And money isn't an issue. I understand that your current rate is five gold sails? I'm happy to quadruple that for you."
Daemon knows that the Sandpoint Glassworks is the town's most profitable business and is owned by the Kaijitsu Family, though family isn't accurate, since the death of Lonjiku Kaijitsu at his bastard son's hand, the family's holdings are in the sole care of of Ameiko Kaijitsu, the owner of the Rusty Dragon.
He knows that the Red Dog Smithy is the blacksmith shop owned by the extremely talented - and extremely irate - Das Korvut.
Pillbug's Pantry is a potion shop owned by Aliver "Pillbug" Podiker. The Short and rotund man is a skilled herbalist. You also know he's had dealings with Titus Scarnetti.
The Curious Goblin is a bookstore and Savah's Armory is a weapons and armor shop, though she doesn't make her own.
Shayliss raises an eyebrow at the horse that runs by, but after that pays it little heed. Smiling at Koveluss and batting her large brown eyes. "Sounds lovely, I hear Garridan just got a new batch of cider in to."
The pair wind through the streets up towards the White Deer, and sure enough they come upon the mysterious horse. Now much calmer, it stands at the trough outside The Deer, gulping down as much water as it can. Approaching the animal, Koveluss is able to determine more specifics. The Saddle is well used and cared for. The saddlebags are full, but not bursting, and a crossbow is clipped to the right side with a quiver of bolts beside it. It was possible that this was some lone traveller's mount... but the more likely explanation was a caravan guard.
"Wait, Ameiko. I'll... I'll do it. And for Desna's sake, we're archaeologists, not graverobbers. I seek history, not stolen relics. And about the bar tab, you know I'm good for it. Just not... right now." Yosrick smiles, but it's a pained smile. "I'm just, you know, down on my luck at the moment. Tell your friend, I'll take the job. And Ameiko, thanks."
"I see. I'll look into things then" he pauses, thinking over her offer of money, her desperation obviously showing through. He would seem oddly distracted, obviously unphased by her flirtatious demeanour. "Quadruple it, as well as I'll need five gold sails up front - a bit of monetary persuasion may be required to get the information I need."
He finally smiles in return - noting her attempts of flirtation that he had overlooked as he was lost in thought.
Koveluss pats the horse reassuringly, looks for any identifying mark, then quickly secures the animal to a hitching post. Returning to Shayliss, he leads her into The Deer and to a table, where he gets the woman settled in. "I'll return shortly. I need to check into something; go ahead and order for me."
Navigating through the crowded common room, Koveluss makes his way to the bar. He waves over the barkeep, and smiles. "I need to speak with you about a horse."
Lady Dubois smiles and lets a sigh of relief, as if all her prayers have been answered. "Of course, of course." she nods in concession, pulling five gold pieces from her purse and placing them on the desk. Standing up she says, "I've taken a room at the White Deer Inn. Should you need to contact me or learn anything of my husband, you will find me there." She curtsies slightly, "Thank you sir, I'm in your debt" Having said her goodbyes, the noble lady departs Daemon's shabby office.
Inspecting the horse, Koveluss discovers two clues to its history. The first - found from rummaging through the sadddle bags filled with rations, camping gear and other tools of a long road - is a receipt of ownership to "The Company of the Bridge and Hammer." The second is that the horse has been freshly branded - with an image of a screaming skull with flecks of skin melting off.
Entering the White Deer, Koveluss finds Garridan manning the bar, polishing away at a glass. The large Shoanti cocks an eyebrow at him, "I have ales and spirits, some food. Try Goblin Squash Stables for horses."
"Normally, I would agree. But when a horse passes through the rest of town, coming here specifically for water, well, it only makes sense to inquire within first."
Koveluss places the receipt on the counter, pushing it toward Garridan. "Can you tell me anything about the Bridge and Hammer?"
He stands and helps the woman out, opening the door for her and nodding to her whereabouts. "Thank you Mrs. Dubois - I'll see what I can find. Oh, and I do apologize for the... Ahh.... Mess," he cocks his head towards his office.
He waits a few moments, using this time to place his armored coat on and re-acquiring his weapon, leaving his shield in it's usual location. 'This seemed too easy... She's hiding something - and I need to find out what before I proceed too far' he thinks to himself. He departs, carefully attempting to shadow the woman, making sure to keep his distance. He needed to have a word with the Innkeeper, hoping to recruit their help.
Ameiko's expression softens and she looks back pained, "I'm sorry Yos, it was nothing but a joke. I know you'll get me the coin." She cocks her head towards the old adventurer, "So get to earning it, eh?" she smiles sympathetically before turning to tend to the rest of her business.
After composing himself, Yosrick shoves himself away from the bar and walks over towards the Pathfinder. As he nears, Yosrick notices one more detail of the man - a cane of polished redwood. The man turns towards him as soon as he draws close. "You must be my new assistant?" he smiles a smirk that says he knows everything. "I'm Hugh Alders, Ready for some adventure?"
Ameiko's expression softens and she looks back pained, "I'm sorry Yos, it was nothing but a joke. I know you'll get me the coin." She cocks her head towards the old adventurer, "So get to earning it, eh?" she smiles sympathetically before turning to tend to the rest of her business.
After composing himself, Yosrick shoves himself away from the bar and walks over towards the Pathfinder. As he nears, Yosrick notices one more detail of the man - a cane of polished redwood. The man turns towards him as soon as he draws close. "You must be my new assistant?" he smiles a smirk that says he knows everything. "I'm Hugh Alders, Ready for some adventure?"
"I'm ready for adventure. Are you good for the payment for said adventure? And what sort of adventure are we talking here?"
"The best kind," answers Hugh, smiling conspiratorially. "And I can't pay you, but honestly if you're half of the explorer Ameiko makes you out to be. You'll sign up for this anyways." He leans in close, his voice almost a whisper. "A colleague of mine is a member of one of the expeditions in Xin-Shalast and smuggled me some information. Notes from Karzoug's own study that detail a Thassilonian outpost of Bakrakhan. Think of it lad, A Runelord's doorstep less than a week's ride from here, and untouched by any in history!"
"The best kind," answers Hugh, smiling conspiratorially. "And I can't pay you, but honestly if you're half of the explorer Ameiko makes you out to be. You'll sign up for this anyways." He leans in close, his voice almost a whisper. "A colleague of mine is a member of one of the expeditions in Xin-Shalast and smuggled me some information. Notes from Karzoug's own study that detail a Thassilonian outpost of Bakrakhan. Think of it lad, A Runelord's doorstep less than a week's ride from here, and untouched by any in history!"
Yosrick tries to hide his delight, he really does, but when you're a Thassilonian seeking sort, the idea of untouched ruins does strange things. He sighs, giving up all pretense of bargaining.
"Alright. When do we leave?"
the large Shoanti raises an eyebrow at the question, before proceeding to wipe the counter of his bar, answering non-chalantly. "There a small mercenary company based out of Magnimar, tend to take jobs as bodyguards and such. They take their name from the Irespan, well the Bridge part at least. They book with me anytime they come through this way. Actually they had a reservation for last week, but never showed..." After a moment, Garridan looks up from the bar, "Show me this horse."
With a small nod, Koveluss turns to lead the innkeeper outside, offering a reassuring smile to Shayliss as he passes...
"As soon as we can," Hugh answers, gathering his belongs, slinging his pack over his shoulder and snatching up his cane, the old explorer makes a hobbled but quick pace for the tavern's door. It's only a second later that Yosrick realizes he needs to follow!
And he catches up with the surprisingly quick old man, Hugh starts explaining the nature of their expedition and arangement - without so much as looking back to make sure Yosrick is there.
"We're meeting a contact at The White Deer, a friend who has some information, a cypher we can use to decode the map from Shalast. The moment we have the cypher, we set out. We can work at decryption on the road and be that much closer to our goal." the information comes in rapid fire, barely enough time for Yosrick to process it all, "Bluntly speaking, you're the eyes, ears, hands and feet. I'm the brain. I've spent decades chasing down Thassilon and I'll know what to look for. Every day of the expedition, you go in, map and notate what you find and bring it back to me. We do this properly and methodically."
As the two of you near the White Deer Inn, Hugh's voice trails off... a scene is brewing in front of the White Washed taphouse.
Moments after his new client had left his office, Daemon slips from the building and heads out on to the street behind her. He tucks his hands into the pockets of his coat, keeping his chin down and his face shadowed.
He keeps a sizable distance between his target, while the streets are full of life, they're also wide and couldn't be described as crowded.
He slips down a side street as Lady Dubois stops for a moment at a crossroad, and then turns up towards the White Deer.
Daemon trails Lady Dubois back to the White Deer Inn... where he comes across a growing crowd.
As the morning draws closer to midday, fate comes together outside the White Deer Inn, as three disparate parties all come together at the same time.
The first is Koveluss Vosare, who exits from the Inn alongside its owner, Garridan Viskalai. The newest addition to Sandpoint's theatre guides the middle aged Shoanti to a horse tethered near the trough outside its Inn. The Horse is fully saddled and packed, and it's stomach inflates and compresses rapidly, clearly out of breath and haggard.
As the pair begins to examine the horse, three other figures arrive at the Inn's doorstep. The first is a beautiful noblewoman, distinctly not from Sandpoint, whose pace slows as she nears, he eyes glued to the horse.
The other two are an elderly man - Hugh Alders - and Yosrick, both geared for exploration. Yosrick can already see Hugh's face darkening as they approach the crowd.
And lastly - though unseen at first - Is the town's private Detective, Daemon Grizwold, who was already on his way to the Deer to speak to Garridan.
Inspecting the horse, and a receipt given to him by Koveluss earlier, Garridan's face clouds apprehension, "Aye... He belongs to Bridge and Hammer. You said he just came charging into..." Garridan's voice dies away as he discovers the second clue. Burned into the horse's hind quarters is a brand of a screaming skull with skin dripping from it. "Oh Gods." the Innkeeper mutters.
By this time everyone has gotten close enough to hear, and the young noblewoman clears her throat, "Master Garridan, this horse is from my husband's caravan isn't it... what's wrong?"
Garridan spins around in surprise at the noblewoman's voice, his mouth opens and closes for a moment before he can find his words, "Madame Dubois please, we don't know anything yet, I'll fetch my brother the Sheriff and."
"Garridan!" the young woman pleads, tears brimming in her eyes, "Please, tell me."
Garridan lets out a long sigh before nodding once, "It's the mark of the Burned Man. He's a bandit who's harried the lands of the Lost Coast for almost a year now. He's said to be a sadistic bastard, as prone to flail or burn a man inch by inch as he is to kill him. But he's gathered likeminded monsters to him, made himself a robber lord... If they got your husband..."
Meanwhile to the side, the elder explorer mutters to himself - though loud enough for Yosrick to hear - "Damn... that was our contact...."
Daemon turns down the street still following the noblewoman as she approaches the group. He listens to her outburst as she asks the questions she is asking, turning to lean against a wall across the street from them all, keeping his distance as he takes in the situation. His silky long black hair pulled into a half ponytail, his five o'clock shadow being the most defining feature on his face, only next to his eyes. His hazel eyes some consider crushing when caught in their gaze.
His eyes stare piercingly towards the woman as he gauges her reaction to seeing the horse, trying to gauge her sincerity behind her reaction.
He would initially stay back to listen to Mrs. Dubois in her conversation before approaching, needing a better gauge of her reactions before he makes his next action.
Koveluss mutters quietly to himself, scratching his neck where the wooden armor rubs against flesh as he does. "More than a year ..." The man stops scratching, and idly traces the lines of the brand in the air with his finger while he thinks.
After a while Koveluss turns to once address the innkeeper, his face a mask of both hope and dread, all at the same time. "Send for the Sheriff; I need to know everything there is to know about this bandit."
Yosrick stops, letting out a barely audible sigh. He nods to Hugh and moves forward. "Garridan, evening. Madame, what route was your husband's caravan taking? Where did he expect to pass? Do you have a map of his route?"
Garridan nods to Koveluss and bellows out "Krojun!" in a booming baritone voice.
a Moment later a young Shoanti lad with a shaved head - already a strapping at fourteen years - comes out of the tavern. "Yes father?"
Garridan quickly relays instructions to the lad to make his way to the garrison and retrieve his uncle, to which the boy sets off immediately.
As Garridan's son runs off, Madame Dubois nods to Yosrick's question, seeming somewhat stunned. "A map... no, no map. His route was directly from Magnimar to Sandpoint, along the main road. The same way I travelled here..."
For his part, Daemon watches from a distance, acting the part of a concerned citizen and nothing more. Until a voice - creaking and paper thin - speaks up behind him, startling him.
"Now now my boy. It won't do to have you hiding away. No one ever could hide from their destiny."
Spinning on his heel, Daemon is greeted by the sight of Madame Niska Mvashti. Something of a local celebrity and figure, The old Crone was the Elder of the Varisians in and around Sandpoint, a seer, and already old when Sandpoint was founded, let alone now.
Madame Mvashti slowly walks past Daemon, his walking cane - as gnarled as the bony fingers that grasp it - tapping rhythmically along the sandy road, while a small and knowing small plays across her weathered lips.
The Old woman walks - with a pronounced hunch and quite slowly - up to the growing crowd. Her ash grey hair frizzes off of her wrinkled scalp, a purple scarf is tied around her neck while she is dressed in simple trousers, a white shirt and loose red vest. For her part, the old crone simply watches, smiling.
A few moments later, Garridan's son returns. He isn't followed by the Innkeeper's younger brother - the town's Sheriff, Belor - but rather a young man in his twenties. The newcomer has raven black hair that hangs to his neck and a dour expression. He is dressed in shortsleeved chainmail with studded leather bracers and bears a greatsword on his shoulder. Before Garridan's son can speak, the newcomer explains, "Sheriff Belor is away to Magnimar, I'm Vorn."
As Madame Mvashti arrives, Koveluss nods in greeting to the Elder. He then turns as Krojun and Vorn arrive. At the newcomers words, a scoel darkens Koveluss' face for just a moment. "Well, Vorn, then I hope you're up to the task. I need information, and I'm not willing to wait for the Sheriff's return. What do you know of the Burned Man, and where can I find him?"
The man smiles miscellaneously. "I believe I would like an audience with this bandit lord."
Yosrick rolls his eyes when the old woman walks up. She'd always been a little mysterious and holier-than-thou, his entire life. When he was a boy, the running bet was to run up to her hut and knock on the door, then beat feet before she could answer it. The winner was the one who stood there the longest before taking off. He'd gotten caught once. He remembered the sting of that cane. Man, he hoped she didn't remember him.
"Well, Madame Dubois, I'm working for an acquaintance of your husband. Did your husband leave anything for a Hugh, a pathfinder he was supposed to meet here? A book or a note?"
He stays back for a few moments longer, allowing his heart rate to regain its normal pace. 'Damned old woman...' he mutters to himself. He reaches his hand up to his neck, rubbing it tenderly and letting out an exasperated sigh.
Finally having regained his wits, he moves forward speaking directly to Vorn, "The Sheriff's off to Magnimar?... He wouldn't happen to have been reported missing recently, would he?" He does his best to not seem suspicious to Mrs. Dubois for having followed her. His hand never leaves his neck as he uses it as a means of calming his wits, as well as seeming more ignorant of the situation than he really is.
"A book? No my husband never even made it to Sandpoint, Looking for him is the only reason I'm here. It's why Ihired this fellow!" she motions towards Daemon as he approaches.
Vorn crosses his arms over at Koveluss' tone, clearly not impressed by the implication, "He's the reason the sheriff in s out of town. The Burned Man's men are bile and ruthless. We've sent a dozens of patrols over the last half a year. Everytieme they're dead."
As he finishes, Vorn shakes his head to Daemon. "Belor has gone to petition Magnimar for soldiers to hunt the Burned Man and his followers in the Whispering Woods."
"but.." Madame Dubois stammers, I passed the sherriff on my journey here a day ago!"[/b] the woman's point is clear. For her husband, or anyone else that the Burned Man has, Sherriff Belor will not return in time.
Yosrick grimaces. Damn, but he's going to have to tackle bandits, isn't he?
"Ma'am, I..." Realizing there's nothing he can say to alleviate the woman's fear, he turns to the detective. "Detective? A word?"
"Tut, tut tut.." Old Madame Mvashti clucks from her place on the edge of the circle. Her eyes - still as canny as they have ever been, despite the gaunt and ever weathered appearance of the rest of her form - deftly flick from one person to the next, for a moment her eyes settle on the Noblewoman. "You may have paid the man a few shillings lassie, but you're far from being the one who brought him into this grande tale..." a slow laugh, almost a cackle, reverberates from her throat. As she leans heavily on her stick, her head cranes, first to Koveluss, then Yosrick and then Daemon. "The outsider, the lost soul, and the pariah... what a band of misfits you've already started to become, eh?" She smiles at them, a grin that's as much gum as teeth, before letting out a second laugh, loud enough to make her many bracelets and necklaces jangle from the raking of her frail body. "So what will it be then, my boys? Gather allies? Go charging off to save the day like our Dear Seoni and her brave Knights, hmm?" she hobbles forwards, a gnarled finger waggling at each of the three? "What of it boys? Do you have the courage to face what lies ahead? or perhaps it's all enough to make you cringe and cry, like the sting of an old hag's cane?" the last line is said with a knowing smile at Yosrick.
Before anyone can say anything, or even question what in the nine hells the old bat is even speaking of, she turns away and starts hobbling back towards her home, humming a catchy little ditty.