Arriving late, Percival shows up and examines the queue. His face goes slightly white. "Oh... oh dear." He carefully walks up to near the front door and turns to face the queue. "Ladies, gentlemen, my name is Percival Lawson, I am a chirurgeon. I am attempting to cure this plague and, in the meantime, help some of you- greetings Hettie how's that leg holding up? Are you applying that salve? Sir Ben, did you remember wash out that wound? Good, good. Now. Please sirs and ladies, whatever medicine you might get from this shop WILL be cancelled out by time spent on your feet in the cold like this. PLEASE return to your homes and beds and rest and have a healthy friend or family member stand in line for you. I am happy to do so for anyone here, give me what you need and your money and I will visit your homes to give you your purchases, but PLEASE return home."
Percival, gonna roll diplomacy for that performance.
Looking down at the doctor, Michael smiles a little bit.
"Don't worry about taking payment from the folks with sick kids, Doc. They're on me. I'm hoping to get us actually inside the shop so we can help the herbalist out a bit. Get everyone the medicine they need quicker, maybe. By the way, don't think we've been properly introduced. Name's Michael Stamford."
With that, Michael leans down and offers his hand to the good doctor.
Percival takes it and gives the weakest handshake you could possibly imagine, aggravated by the fact that he is clearly trying to clasp your hand firmly and failing utterly. "As I said, Percival Lawson, Chirurgeon. Terribly kind of you, I must say."
Looking at dr. Lawson, Hecktor can't help but think:
Those are some smooth lines for a doctor, asking everybody to entrust money to him.
Michael looks at the line of sick people again and lets out a deep sigh. His voice drops from being a bit cheerful and commanding to being lower, softer, and sad.
"Well doc, these are my people. I may have left this town behind at first opportunity, but that doesn't necessarily mean I left the people. In my time gone I've come to respect these people a lot more than I did when I left; I've become more knowledgeable about how things work in the world. I've realized that they live this life because it's all they've got, not because they choose to. And having come from here, I know that most of these folks are poor, barely making it by, and more than a few of them are probably making a choice between medicine and food. So, since I'm back and I've got a bit of spare money, I figure that the least I can do is make that choice a little bit easier."
One of the patients gingerly gets up and totters towards Doctor Lawson. Now that you've seen him you can't imagine why you didn't notice him before. His deeply tanned olive skin, his long raven black hair and the impressive Tatoo covering half his body (think Seth from Dusk Till Dawn, but script rather than solid lines) mark him indelibly as outsider. He's obviously seen better days for the once rich clothing he's wearing is patched and frayed. Despite looking rather unwell and his somewhat disheveled appearance, there's a certain magnetism to his smile and something about the way he carries himself draws your attention.
"Good Doctor, perhaps you will help a poor Soul where these will not?", he waves in the general direction of the shop. I came up by river several days ago, and alas I ate something that entirely disagreed with me. I'll save you the details, but results where, unpleasant... I was seeking a Cleric or Chirurgeon to rebalance my humours but these would not take my money."
He takes out a golden coin, bites it and shows it to you and says, "see, it's not counterfit. It's a genuine Taldor solon, but it seems that's as welcome round these parts as I am. What say you Doctor, have you a remedy to help counter the lamentable results of a Trout of dubious provenance? Oh I forgot to introduce myself, my name is Silas Hawkwinter an amateur author and playwright, I'm far from home and I doubt you have heard of me." Silas smiles depreciatingly and gives a slight bow.
Lucanor is impressed by the Doc's words, thinking along much the same lines as Hecktor. He listens quietly to Michael's declaration of being one of these folk and while it isn't the same for him, he can certainly empathize.
But it's the patient getting up and turning out to be a playwright that surprises him. He didn't even notice the man at first, and normally he's good at that. Nervous fellow, He observes that much, "You seem a bit on edge there, Silas. Not that I can blame you with the health concerns and all."
Percival raises an eyebrow as he examines the fellow. "Well yes your personal catharsis aside, thank you for your help. These people needed it."
"Another wordsmith, eh?" Percival remarks dryly, looking up and down that tattooed fellow, before his gaze softens. "Come here, let me have a look at you." Guiding him back to where he was sitting and lowering him to the ground, Percival briskly checks his pulse, temperature, listens to his chest and looks inside his mouth. Eventually, he stands. "I can prepare some stillgut for you tomorrow; twenty-five coins in raw materials required, five for my time spent brewing. Otherwise, I recommend clean water, preferably boiled, a little fresh fruit and bedrest." He waves away the coin. "If you feel any worse in three days, see me again, sir."
Silas laughs a bit nervously but with growing confidence says, "I came here for my health, wouldn't you believe? It's good to be away from the big city! The air is defiantly cleaner and the water is supposed to be untainted although I'm not entirely convinced it's all it was cracked up to be!"
Silas looks around and sighs, "This local malady puzzles me, where are all the clerics and druids? Plague must be nipped in the bud lest it get out of hand. The locals may be poor but the Gods and clergy are more interested by the contents of a man's heart than his pocket. Except for that one Abbot back in Almas," winks Silas, "if only the laity knew how he spent all that confessional money..."
"Thank you doctor, sage advice I'm sure. Regretfully my funds are much depleted after a long boat trip and that 'gourmet' Trout, so I shall have to soldier on, although I suspect I've already turned the corner, for yesterday I hardly speak."
The locals may be poor but the Gods and clergy are more interested by the contents of a man's heart than his pocket. Except for that one Abbot back in Almas," winks Silas, "if only the laity knew how he spent all that confessional money..."
Hecktor's attention was drawn towards Silas after hearing that last bit of conversation.
"Well now Silas, that wouldn't happen to be father Brimshaw now would it?"
"That abbot was certainly an eyesore. Fatman, richer on consumption than on faith. Glad i didn't have to see that for a long while."
"There is a chapel to Iomedae here in town, I've been meaning to look in on it. Maybe after this..." At mention of Brimshaw, Lucanor smirks a bit.
I'll resolve the first round of the social encounter.
Lucanor: Thought about the town and its inhabitants then began to examine some of them to gain information about the plague.
Michael: Spoke to the crowd, announcing the groups intention to cure the plague and offering to personally pay for all townsfolk present treatment.
Hecktor: Cautioned Michael and looked around for guards, there are no guards present.
Percival: Began seeing patients and speaking to the crowd
Silas: Introduced himself to the group and met with the Dr.
Results. +2 Reputation with Falcon's Hollow residents (+3 total)
You have one more round if you choose to take action, however the crowd will let you pass if you choose to do that instead. I'll be updating around 7-8PM CST and we will move into the shop to speak with Laurel the owner.
Silas replies to Hecktor, "Well I have heard several scurrilous rumors, but alas there was never any proof."
I do hope I've not said more then I should, best move the conversation onto a safer topic, I've burnt enough bridges in Almas as is...
"I believe you have me at an advantage sir, for we have not yet been introduced. You have the look of a seasoned and well travelled campaigner if I'm not mistaken, as such I trust you are not prejudiced towards my people like some in these parts. By Desna, it would be good to find a friendly face or two!"
"Blackscour," Lucanor says almost to himself, "Yup, we definitely need to talk to this herbalist."
Hecktor shows no sign of surprise, yet wonders about the response.
"Ah, well. Name's Hecktor. I've been to Almas, and there is truth to the rumors. Father Brimshaw showed up on more occasions when it concerned currency as reward than faith and gratitude. Suffice to say, not being near that man is a blessing upon itself."
"Prejudice towards your people?"
"Growing up in the Academe as a Varisian teaches one a thing or two about prejudice. The songs may say all Varisians are scoundrels or rogues but I can assure you that's not the case!
Silas sighs, "regrettably many won't give us a chance to show our true colors and simply assume the worst."
He glances towards the shop, "It appears the crowd is thinning out, maybe we should see what manner of cure that apothecary selling. Assuming he'll let me in this time..."
"People, please, step back for a moment. I didn't say I was going to... What I said was... Just the children..." stammers Michael, futilely trying to clarify his previous declaration.
Well, it's looking like I'm paying for everyone then...
Michael wheels his horse around slowly, making sure not to knock anyone over but pushing them back a bit so that he can dismount. After dismounting he walks to the door of the shop and calls out to the rest of the group.
"Doc, the way's clear to get inside and help. You too, Lucanor. Hecktor, mind keeping an eye on my horse? I've got to make arrangements for payment for all these folks. New guy, you should probably hang around outside. Your tummy ache can wait. The people with this sickness come first."
I hope I've got enough to cover everyone. I know I've got enough for the kids, but I don't think I can cover the whole line...
Earlier
I knew it.....i just knew it
Hecktor walks up to the horse. Admiring the neatness of how it's been cared for.
"Calm down darling, Michael's only gone for a short while"
Hecktor you manage to calm the horse (DC 10).
The party makes its way through the staring crowd into Roots and Remedies.
The smell of burnt earth and spicy incensechokes the air of the cramped, mud-tracked shop. Bunches of dried herbs hang from the
ceiling, along with dangling pots, presses, alchemical apparatuses, and glassware of more arcane purposes. Pouches of rare plants, jars of colored glass, and all manner of dried, preserved, and jellied animal parts fill high shelves and tables doing double duty as displays and workspaces. In the shop’s rear, a rail-thin woman with severe-looking
spectacles and hair pulled back tightly busies herself between an overpacked rack of herbs, a table covered in stray powders and
measuring equipment, and a pot loudly bubbling over with thick gray froth. Over the din of her work and without looking up, the woman impatiently shouts, “And what’s your problem?”and then sighs They expect me to fix all of this.
Here is the Woman
"Actually," Lucanor answers, "I think someone expects us to help you out instead. Blackscour ...pretty nasty. My name's Lucanor, me and my associates, at least some of us, got a 'suggestion' to come here."
Michael looks around the shop after being slapped in the face by its heady aroma. When the woman behind the table yells at him he snaps his gaze to her.
"Well, ma'am, I don't really suppose I have a problem. But I did bring some people along to help you out with yours. I've got a doctor with me, and Lucanor here seems to know a thing or two about medicine as well. I'll try to help as best I can too, but unless you need someone hit upside the head or a stallion broken I'm not sure how much good I'll do."
Walking over to the table, he continues. "By the way, if you could take a look outside and let me know how much I owe you for whatever treatment it is you're giving these folks for the coughing sickness, I'd appreciate it. I offered to pay for the children's treatments and somehow managed to turn it into paying for everyone that was in line."
Hecktor, having calmed down the horse, sticks his head through the door, still remaining outside.
"Good day ma'am. Say Michael, not to trouble your coinpurse, but the headcount of people has just risen to 30. Still no guards though, so that's a plus."
"This is going to be one of those things a bard can sing plenty about."
Silas ponders Michael's predicament, it seems he has a soft spot for the folk which has been taken advantage of.
Silas sounds impressed, "That is uncommonly generous sir. This fine lady has quite the windfall here, perhaps she'll join the spirit of generosity generosity with a discount? Naturally you'd like to know what you are buying, I'm sure the Lady will be happy to explain..."
Something about the way Silas said that makes it seem uncommonly good sense.
Percival looks around quite surprised. "You... you all received an identical message? Interesting, I had not pegged you for- I beg your pardon, what do you mean by 'I've got a doctor with me?'"
After a few moments of redness Percival calms himself and makes his way to the woman. "Percival Lawson, madam, Chirurgeon. I wish to cure this plague, and offer my services."[/b]
Hecktor couldn't help but slightly notice the behavior of Percival.
"Did mr. Lawson just get charmed by the lady? I could swear i saw him have a change of color in the face."
Oh, so your not sick? or think your sick? Seems like everyone thinks they have the Blackscour taint these days
Laurel turns to Michael and says I actually don't have anything to treat these people. I've been giving them strong tea and sending them to rest. My grandmother’s book has a brew in it that says its good for this kind of thing. A weird concoction that sounds more like hoojoo than real medicine. she pauses a second and then continues But since you offered I'll gladly take 5 gold to cover the cost of the medicinal tea
Laurel smiles a bit at Silas' banter.
Finally she realizes that she was been rude and says Pardon my bad manners, I'm Laurel the local herbalist. As she says this a plain woman with bleached blond hair, and a sober appearance walks up from the back of the store. And this is Lady Cirthana, a priestess from the local temple. The lady Cirthana looks at you grimly then continues her task, which seems to be sorting herbs into the correct bins.
Together we have been working on a cure for this plague but nothing has been forthcoming. So say again, who sent you to me?
Gared wound his way towards Roots and Remedies. As one of the deputies of the small town, it was his job to stave off any potential trouble and an informant had just told the Sheriff of the simmering queue outside the local herbalist. As he approached the small business, his eyebrows raised at the number of people standing outside. This business about the blackscour taint had everybody's hackles up and with a crowd this size, violence was a definite possibility.
"Good morning folks," he called out as he neared, "I understand you're all troubled by the taint but I'm going to have to ask you to move on. Laurel can't deal with all of you at the same time."
It was only then that Gared noticed the man at the door. Laurel had no bodyguards, and Gared certainly didn't recognise the man as working for the Consortium.
"You there," he said, pointing at Hecktor, "Who are you, and what is your business in town?"
At seeing Percival's blushing Michael quips, "Geez, Doc. Don't get all flustered now."
Answering Laurel's question, Michael explains how he's ended up in her shop."Well ma'am, I'm here because my mother sent me a letter saying my father was sick, and that it was hitting the whole town, so I decided it was time to come home. I figured that I'd stop by here and try and pick up some medicine to help out the stubborn old man because the gods know he wouldn't come by himself. Not a whole lot more reason than that for me. These other men I'm with, I couldn't really say. We've really just met over drinks earlier and all happened to have the same destination. Though they seem like decent enough people so far."
While he's talking, Michael reaches for his belt pouch and starts digging through the coins inside. Finding what feels like the right amount, he double checks the count before handing them to Laurel. "I really appreciate your honesty about the state of affairs here. Like I said earlier, I may not be much help, but you let me know what I can do and I'll try my best at it."
Laurel stammers her thanks at the generosity of Michael Why thank you young man. Your old man Stamford's boy aren't you. I heard tale he had a dust up with "Pay Day".
If the town has at least one Priestess, then why is there a Plague? We don't know if the Lady Cirthana is capable of strong magics, but surely she could ask her superiors for aid if not? Something doesn't add up here.
Silas nods at Lady Cirthana and addresses her, "I hope you don't mind me interrupting Ma'am, but I can't help but wonder if the gods are not willing to help these poor folk? Have they angered them? Also could you please direct us to the temple so we may later pay our respects?"
Lets see if she's willing to talk.
The Lady looks down her nose at Silas Sir, this town with its corruption and sinners perhaps deserves the punishment of the gods. I have prayed to the glorious goddess Iomedae and she has not responded.
The Lady harumphs her way to the back of the store. Seems she dislikes dealing with impetuous adventurers. Roll sense motive
Michael claps his hands together, points at Laurel, and lets out a sharp "hah!" as a big smile crawls across his face. "It's about time someone around here recognized me! Made a grand entrance into the tavern and everything, but no one even batted an eye! I didn't think I'd been away all that long! But yeah, that stubborn old fool's had more than a few issues with Pay Day and the rest of the goons over the years. Mom's letter was saying that recently they've been threatening eviction since he's not able to work due to sickness. Something about a company house being for company men, and company men being the ones in the woods. You have to love the respect they show their labor sometimes."
Laurel leans in and whispers Please don't be saying disparaging things about the Consortium too loudly y'hear. I don't want any trouble from Payday's goons.
So it seems to cure the plague, we must first find out why Iomedae is displeased with the populace. I find it hard to believe it's anything these poor dispirited folk have actively done, rather it's inaction that has angered Iomedae - but what are they supposed to do?
Poor Cirthana, I do believe she tried to intercede and was rebuffed.
Silas's thoughts are interrupted by Michaels's exposition. So that explains the generosity, he's coming home and he doesn't like what he sees. There's going to be trouble and soon, in fact I'm surprised the law hasn't turned up already...
"Michael if one person has remembered you others will too even if they haven't said so. I'm sorry if it's not my business but it seems you have a score to settle - do you have a plan?"
Silas nods at Lady Cirthana and addresses her, "I hope you don't mind me interrupting Ma'am, but I can't help but wonder if the gods are not willing to help these poor folk? Have they angered them? Also could you please direct us to the temple so we may later pay our respects?"
Lucanor glances over at the bard, "Don't blame a cup for not being a bucket, just be grateful for the water in it. And don't blame a well for not having a bucket handy. Just be grateful for what they give, and look around, might be you're the bucket you've been looking for." He taps his long brimmed hat.
Sensing the priestess' distress, he follows a bit to introduce himself, and keeps his voice low and polite "Pardon me, Sword Knight Cirthana, or priestess if you prefer. Name's Lucanor, I am off the clergy in my way," He shows his own humble symbol, "Came to see how the church was doing in this town, and perhaps offer some aid. I can see you're trying powerful hard to do what you can and helping Laurel all you might. If it isn't arrogant of me to say, neither of you ladies are alone any more. Let me know if there's something I can do for the church or yourself, if you would?"
Percival ignores you all and focuses on talking shop with the herbalist. "I have been examining some of the sufferers and the symptoms, such as they are, should be satisfied by whatever brew we can concoct from a few choice herbs, such as processed aconite. I am sure you have come to a similar conclusion. Have you had difficulties obtaining the plants? Of course, the real tragedy is that this plague is infections but hardly that virulent... neglect and poverty is what kills them in the end." The last bit is muttered quietly.
Earlier
Hecktor looks as a brown haired man walks past the poor folk. The guy seems in a bit of a hurry. He didn't appear like the type like the hairy goon from the inn, but one can never know at first sight.
In a calm voice:
"Didn't your mother teach you pointing is rude? I am a traveler and am staying with this horse that belongs to a comrade, who happens to be visiting the herbalist. And you yourself?"
@ Hecktor: I think the Gared/Hecktor conversation is happening concurrent with the Laurel/Michael/Percival and Lucanor/Cirthana conversations.
It's priestess or Lady Cirthana, thank you. What is your position in the church? I've tried and tried to get these people to see the light and see what their devotion to the Consortium is costing them. They refuse to see the truth for what it is! Cirthana, pauses for a moment to collect herself, this seems to be a sore subject for her. There is something. If you could somehow engineer this cure that Laurel speaks of and then give credit to Iomedae it would do much to convince the folk of Falcon's Hollow that following their "other" gods was a mistake.
"As an inquisitor of the faith, my position is ....flexible," Lucanor answers wryly. Still, her request surprises him, "Begging your pardon, priestess, but as we serve a goddess of honor and justice, should we not give credit where credit is due to the others investing their time and care into the task as well? Perhaps I misunderstood some part of your request. Rest assured, I shall certainly try to help the folk of this town get the cure they need and any glory folks try to pass onto me, I shall proclaim as belonging to the Inheritor."
He adds, "As for the other gods and the consortium, the latter concerns me more than the former, unless there are some particularly evil cults I don't know about. Seems the Consortium has usurped rightful rule about here, lessn' I missed my guess. I encountered one of their bully boys sent to test myself and the newcomers. I certainly won't be giving the Consortium any praise over this if I can help it."
Silas listens with interest to Laurel's conversation with the good Doctor and says, "I can't say I've ever heard of any of those ingredients but the finding promises to be quite a tail I'll warrant. I'd like to help if you'll have me. It seems you may need to ask the rock brothers about ironbloom mushrooms, I speak their language and that of the elves."
Silas then turns back to Michael and asks, "It'll take a while to find all that stuff, time the bailiffs may not give your Pa. Do you have a notion on how to help him in the meantime?"