Falcon’s Hollow is a logging town, through and through. Most buildings have log walls, or are finished with wooden siding. The roofs are covered in wooden shingles.
The town is rough-looking for the most part, but some homes feature lovingly wrought ornamentation that shows their owners’ pride: decorative molding, carved cornices, window mullions, and delicate inlays on furniture.
At least, that was how they were, once upon a time. Years of use and being passed down through families leave much of this craftsmanship dinged, dented, and worn - tragically, yet another mirror of their owners.
Sawmills and lumberyards are the main evidence of the town’s industry, along with dusty, exhausted cutyards filled with stumps.
Sawdust invades nearly every home, bed, and meal in the community, like sand in a beach town.
Around Falcon’s Hollow, the forest flourishes, dark and impenetrable, seemingly eager to claim the lives of those who endlessly assault its borders.
The town huddles upon the banks of the River Foam, where the mechanical whine of the sawmill fills the air day and night.
Logs float through the river like a herd of petrified beasts, and sawdust coats the water like brown algae.
...
As the road climbed the Elberwick Rise and crossed the Darkmoon Plain, the monotony of terrain was broken by spectacular eruptions of mud pot geysers visible a mile from the road.
Despite all the cautionary tales you heard about Andoran’s northern frontier, there were no packs of werewolves or fey ambushes awaiting you - just the unwashed, spitting caravaneers and guards in the Consortium’s employ. You found them very reticent as you plied them for information about their corporate masters, earning little more than wary glances from the weathered men.
One oddity among the caravan, however, is the catman. He gave his name as Rrruh, as best as you could understand the sound. How he found himself accompanying a Consortium caravan presents a bizarre, tantalizing mystery.
At last, the road dead ends against the River Foam. As you wait for the ferry crossing, you have an opportunity to take your first, long look at the infamous logging town, seemingly perched at the wild end of the world.
The loggers in the cutyard bunkhouse rise, hefting their axes and kicking up plumes of sawdust with even the slightest step. A few of the men let out the last of their lingering coughs, and you imagine many Valers back in town are waking the same way. As if the leprosy outbreak a few years back wasn’t bad enough, Falcon’s Hollow is only just recovering from an outbreak of Blackscour Taint. Somehow Brookman’s Well, just beyond the town palisade, became contaminated with the fungus, infecting many of the residents who depended on it for water.
Laurel Gebre, the harried Garundi woman who owns Roots and Remedies, had even conscripted you to aid her in mixing a curative from rare ingredients retrieved by some of the more experienced local woodsmen. It was not the first time you found yourself unexpectedly apprenticing to her, but over time you have learned much about herbs and folk medicine from her and her grandmother’s old book. Not to mention that this most recent stint earned you enough silvers to pay off your debts to the Store.
After doling out the men’s meager breakfast, the idea strikes you to make the short hike back to town and check on Laurel and see if she’s actually gotten any sleep in the past 48 hours.
From here, you can see the town of Falcon’s Hollow to the west, upon the River Foam where it floods the water with logs and sawdust. Despite ire the sight may inspire, the thought occurs to you to visit town to buy some supplies that you cannot hunt or scrounge for yourself.
Did it slow your steps or hasten them to think about how, soon, fairy tales would soon become a reality? A few more steps will take you from out the embrace of the pine, elm, oak, and darkwood trees and out into the sun-blanched wide open world.
The loggers in the cutyard bunkhouse rise, hefting their axes and kicking up plumes of sawdust with even the slightest step. Some of them cough. You remember hearing that some manner of disease had stricken the town, and you remain thankful that it passed you over.
The camp’s cook, the halfling Randu, is already serving breakfast. You also remember hearing that he had played some part in working up the cure for the disease.
Your wanderings took you first along the coastal plateau to the capital, Almas. Although you regretted leaving such a splendid city behind, you feared that staying would leave you to enamored to ever leave and thus spoil the rest of your exploration. From there, you traveled northward along a mighty river to a town called Riverford and then a smaller city called Oregent.
Oregent was dirty and reeked of smoke, so you were glad to leave. A caravan was forming to travel north, carrying supplies for some company called the Lumber Consortium. You offered to journey with them and provide protection. They scoffed until they saw you fend off the three men who tried to rob you as your started to leave. The caravan master changed his mind after that.
As the caravan traveled north, bound for a town called Falcon’s Hollow, you discovered another outsider traveling with them - some stripe of nobleman, no less - named Jack. He was full of questions, but the other caravaneers offered few answers.
...
Thuldrin Kreed runs the town as the local gavel, a foreman who oversees operations on behalf of the board of directors. He descends from a long line of lumber barons, and he is a cruel man just like his late father, Thalsin.
Kreed’s right-hand man and lickspittle is Boss Payden Teedum, known as “Pay Day” thanks to the way he doles out painful “due” to anyone who fails to follow commands quickly enough.
One of the few people willing to stand up to these two men is Sheriff Deldrin Baleson, who maintains some semblance of justice in the town with the help of a handful of deputies drawn from local loggers and retired adventurers.
Darkmoon Woods are home to many animals, but the most dangerous denizens are giant mosquitos, moorsnakes, and especially wolves, known to be particularly aggressive here on the frontier.
The River Foam, upon which the town sits, runs down from the Five Kings Mountains and splits the Vale into Darkmoon Woods and the Darkmoon Plains. South of Falcon’s Hollow, the river cuts through the Wolfrun Hills before pouring into the Andoshen River.
The key to acting like the stuck up noble son was, amusingly, the posture and asking questions. Jack learned long ago that most folks assumed that if you held your nose high, even a little, they often saw you as the spoiled brat you acted like. The other was questions, ironically: most common folk assumed that rich kids, despite their ability to afford vast amounts of education, were largely uneducated about the world. The more questions you had, the less of a threat you seemed. Which was his key to getting what he was after.
Unfortunately, it would've helped things along if anyone would actually speak with him! Almost every question he'd posited to the workers and common folk, no matter how simply he phrased them, seemed to be met with silent stares. Pulling info from the council archives proved less stressful than this... and those were an abominable mess!
Towards the end of the journey, getting a good look at the dilapidated state of the poor logging town, the sad state of affairs did tug at his heart a bit and remind him of why he was here.
Sighing for a bit, he finally approached he catfolk and folded his fingers together, clearing his throat. "Well... since I can't seem to garner so much as a shrug from these workers, perhaps you'd care to share your story. What brings a catfolk all the way from... oh, wherever it is you hail from, all the way to Andoran... and Falcon's Hollow? Mr... erm, Ruh, was it?"
Krogge stretches before heading back in the cave to grab his things: his bow, skinning knife, and tomahawk as well as a sack with a waterskin and 2 days worth of rations. Hhmmph, better get a move on if I’m gunna make it back by nightfall with a barrel of mead., he thought to himself. It wasn’t as if he had problem with the dark, in fact he saw better in the dark than most who can, but he knew better than most what hunts at night in these hills. They didn’t call it the Wolfrun hills for nothing.
He was running short on coin and hadn’t been able to find more game than he needed for himself due to that damned lumber consortium so he had nothing to trade. Maybe I’ll find some herbs on the way that Laurel might be interested in; or maybe she’ll have something she needs from the forest he can get for her he thinks as he begins covering up the entrance to his cave with some brush. He blushes for a moment thinking about Laurel, something about her made even more tongue tied than normal.
Krogge will begin decending the hills while keeping an eye out for herbs or anything of interest.
Flint stirs in his hammock, early in the morning like the rest of the crew. At least he could see in the still twilit morning better than the rest of the largely humanoid cutting crew. Work might actually be better than sleep. He knows the hammock doesn't belong to him, and he never rests as well as if it did.
He slips on his well worn outfit, social side out as he gets ready for the day, stowing his things on his person as he heads out to breakfast, donning his hat as he does.
He takes what is served gratefully with a polite bow to the halfling. A cook is always everyone's best friend, and he takes a place amongst the rest of the crew on one of several clean cut stumps.
Morning boys. Happy First Cut. Maybe it might start getting warmer now. It would be about time, eh?
He was reasonably well liked around camp by those that can stand an optimistic personality, some of the older crew referring to him as 'furball.'
First Cut mmph, maybe it meant something beyond profit once, but if it ever was so, it's empty now. More like a ritual to bleed those what do the work dry all the sooner. He keeps his thoughts to himself as he hands out breakfast. Some, a very few men would give him dark looks, as if it was his fault that the food could only be so good when the Consortium would just as soon feed them rat soup. He makes it as good as it is. And most of them knew that, and treated him kindly.
Of course, he's more than he used to be, thanks to the pact of shadow that saved his life. Would that it could save his brother's, but it is too late for that.
His mind turns to Laurel Gebre, a source of much knowledge in her own right. Given all the work they both put out, yes, visiting her is wise. The town needs her in good shape too.
He takes what is served gratefully with a polite bow to the halfling. A cook is always everyone's best friend, and he takes a place amongst the rest of the crew on one of several clean cut stumps.
He nods to the Catfolk in return, and because of the courtesy makes sure there's a bit more meat in it for the catfolk. He doesn't understand Catfolk, but he doubt they're plant eaters by preference.
Unless someone detains him after his duties, he definitely plans on going to seeing Laurel.
Sighing for a bit, he finally approached he catfolk and folded his fingers together, clearing his throat. "Well... since I can't seem to garner so much as a shrug from these workers, perhaps you'd care to share your story. What brings a catfolk all the way from... oh, wherever it is you hail from, all the way to Andoran... and Falcon's Hollow? Mr... erm, Ruh, was it?"
He smiled broadly at the poor fellow dressed so finely for a moment before he remembered that sometimes his teeth put humanfolk ill at ease. He tilted his head and flickered his ears his whiskers twitching. He had watched with interest the poor fellow try to approach so many others along the caravan most giving him a wide berth. Long had he waited till this one approached him, he paused adjusting the long flowing arms of his top, pratically wrapping them about his arms to keep them once more from the ground though they were plain in make and design, just a plain tan color in nature.
"Rrruh."
He said annunciating the rolling r's just a samll bit.
"But close enough. Hail friend, I see you have tired of being stared up at yes yes? It is said that if you wish to sit in the trees with the birds grow feathers... and by this I mean You look the part of the boss folk to the common man. Try slouching ... like this.Perhaps now you appear less the boss yes yes?"
He began politle and slowly reaching out to touch the mans shoulders and force them into a slight slump.
"Maybe tousle your hair a bit more as well yes yes. To answer your question friend My tribe travels the northern reaches of Garund, though original we hail from much much further away three generations ago we lived in the far lands of Tian Xia. I am... traveling with this caravan becuase the spirit of life had overtaken me amongst my people and I had a desire to see the world. My Uncle Rakuh told me of the wonders of this nation... this Andoran so I thought to start my journey here. I seek wisdom, experiance, and stories though not in that order. What brings you here friend... "
He asked in return politely with another quick and broad smile.
The lone fey draws her wings about her as she steps to the edge of the forest, the now unobstructed breeze chillier than before. She stops at the sight of the open Vale, struck by the openness. It was like flying above the canopy, only a lot more interesting.
Her attention is drawn first to the multitudes of tree stumps in the clear cut area. Humans needed trees, that she understood, but they certainly didn't need all of them, did they? Wouldn't it be nicer to leave some for others, and to let things re-grow? Why, it wouldn't be long at all before there was no forest left at all and.. OOH! People! There are people down there, coming out of the houses. So many houses! So many people!
She bursts into motion, running down toward the town with a wide grin and bright eyes. It had been a lonely few days in the forest, but now it is time to make new friends!
Jack made no move to stop or resist Rrruh's adjustment to his shoulders, letting them slouch a moment and looking between them quietly. Finally, though, they snapped back up to their rigid uniformity below his neck. "Well, perhaps it is apt that I carry myself like their boss, seeing as I am likely to become that in the coming weeks. I am here on business, at the behest of the People's Council. Nothing less!" He held himself even higher, lifting his voice a bit. Perhaps THAT would catch some of the workers' attentions.
"The Council is concerned regarding the possibility of a business shutdown for the Lumber Consortium. We've heard tell a trouble maker we'd thought flown south for a permanent winter might be... ruffling his feathers in the area again?" He smiled as if the punchline was blatantly obvious... and that his joke was funny to begin with. After a second, he seemed convinced the joke went over Rrruh's head and explained. "Fellow calls himself the 'Blue Corvus' or some such nonsense. Seems to have started in my hometown of Oregent, and we'd believed him to have flown the coop."
He shook his head with a chuckle at his own crack, before continuing. "You hail from Garund, my furry... companion? Tell me, you and your, erm, tribe wouldn't happen to have come across a blue crow in your wanderings, would you? Preferably MUCH further south? The Council is interested in setting up a government funded logging operation alongside the Consortium, and I've little time to go chasing after shadows and rumors, when I could be spending such time on more worthwhile pursuits... such as art. Or music. Or, truth be told, anything that isn't dreary book work."
Meanwhile, the caravan master gives you both another dirty look. However, she has been a bit more forthcoming than her guards, and you even learned that her name is Ayda Vorshin, that she's a former mercenary, and that she thinks very little of both of you.
Turning around, you discover a small body, almost like a green-hued child, charging down the worn dirt path, seemingly without a care in the world.
One of them is only a little taller than you, and he smells like the soup the old hermit used to make for dinner.
The other one looks like a forest cat with fur colored like the night sky - only he's walking upright on two legs like you!
These naturally salty roots are popularly added raw to season meals, especially since many Valers cannot afford real salt. Additionally, Rat's Tail can be pickled and used as a mild analgesic; in fact, Laurel could probably use some to resupply her shop.
Once you are closer to town, you notice a caravan on the far side of the river loading onto the ferry. Although it's likely saw blades and axe heads for the cutyards, you hope they may have also brought along some decent mead or wine for sale. Of course, even if you were allowed in the High Market on the Perch, you'd still need to get past Kilarin Salk, that insufferable slip wench.
Maybe if you met the carts at the docks you could haggle a deal with them?
As Krogge approaches the town gates he has a rare, small, smile on his face. these roots will give me reason to visit Laurel, he thinks to himself, but first I need to secure something to drink and hopefully that caravan has some.
Krogge will head directly to the docks, hoping to get a barrel of mead or ale before it goes through any sort of customs and he has to deal with the consortium.
The urge to cover his face with his palm was great as the young human lifted his voice to brag about possibly being in charge of things wasnt going to make the workers about want to open up that was for sure. He did quietly listen as the man descirbed some sort of criminal. It took him a moment to realize the man was making a joke so he humored him with smiling broadly for a moment though he surely didnt get it.
He made a face and once more tilted his head to the said his ears flickering as the man described the blue crow bird. He couldnt think of any times that anyone had mentioned anything about a blue crow back home, but he was hardly a druid or ranger.
"We have Blue Macoos...large big billed birds that are certainly noisy. There are parrots that can be blue yes yes, but I dont think we have blue crows no no no.
He answered, frowning at the glare from the caravan master. He thought about telling Jack that perhaps forming logging companies and heading into the Jungles of Garund might not be wise... but he wasnt sure if the effort would be wasted. The jungles there ate up the unwary, the ill prepared but whom would listen to a dirty traveling catfolk?
" From that look i think the mistress of the caravan is annoyed by something yes yes. I wonder what that could be."
He cheerfully waved at her willing his tail to still its idle lashing.
The tiny fae slides to a stop in front of the two figures, one slightly taller than herself, the other much taller. "HII! Wow, you must be a halfling, and you... you are the biggest kitty cat I have ever seen!" She says, pointing to one, then the other. She stares in apparent awe for few seconds. "I'm a Sweet Pea. Wanna be friends?"
"Ah well, I suppose would be a slim chance you had. I shall simply hope that the reports were erroneous and that this 'Blue Corvus' has sought out trouble elsewhere." Jack replied, humming a bit at the caravan master's assessment. If anything, he felt a bit proud of himself. It meant that his ruse was working. Of course, he needed to get a bit of information out of the folks, so he couldn't be TOO off-putting. As he looked over the town crossing the river, his sharp eyes caught sight of yet another catfolk! Two in one place? Curious... "Hrm... are you sure you are not visiting family or friends, Master... Rrruh, yes? Because if my eyes do not deceieve me, I believe you have equally feline company in town."
Standing up from his seat, Jack dusted himself off before addressing the caravan master. "Lady Vorshin. Perhaps you could see your way to aiding me a bit further. I need to know where to house my things in the short term, some lodgings of decent quality would be preferable. I also need the name and location of the town's leader and chief overseer of Lumber Consortium activities. And lastly, and arguably most important, where one can entertain himself in between the humdrum of dull government work."
Being in need of some medicine to keep on him just in case (but totally forgetting he spent the last of his coin on his last trip to town) Flint accompanies Randu to the herbalist after hearing of his destination.
He fills the early walk with general discussion, which inevitably works back to quietly discussing the camp's state of affairs under their task masters. This discussion is brought to a hault by the arriving fey.
He blinks a little, but ultimately decides to try and be friendly with the strange creature that approached them.
Hello there. I guess I am pretty big compared to a regular cat. Most of my family is even bigger than me though!"
The tiny fae slides to a stop in front of the two figures, one slightly taller than herself, the other much taller. "HII! Wow, you must be a halfling, and you... you are the biggest kitty cat I have ever seen!" She says, pointing to one, then the other. She stares in apparent awe for few seconds. "I'm a Sweet Pea. Wanna be friends?"
Randu does something he hasn't done in awhile. He smiles, "My name is Randu Riggling, and, I can honestly say I have never met one of your kind before, Sweet Pea." Shadows seem to shift behind him for a moment, as if even his shadow was curious about the new comer, "Friendship is hard to find in this place. You may wish to be slower to offer lest someone take advantage, but it's a kind offer anyway. Why do you come here?"
"I've listened to your prattle for many miles, boy, so let me give you a warning - keep that talk up, and this town will eat you alive. Gavel Thuldrin Kreed runs the show in this town for the Consortium, and if he catches wind of your plans...well, being some fop's son won't save you none."
Up closer, you see that Miss Vorshin's skin has a grayish pallor, and her ears are broad and taper to a blunted point. Your suspect she may be of orcish heritage.
Although you don't know her personally, you recognize the caravan's leader, Ayda Vorshin, since she's one of the few other half-orcs who frequent the town. This may also be a stroke of luck because, as you recall, rather than tools or metal works from Oregent for the Consortium, she usually imports luxury goods from Olfden, such as silk clothes, shoes, and spices.
If anyone's going to bring in some Bellis mead, it would be her. Now all you have to do is convince her to divert some away from its destination in the High Market.
"I'm here to make friends, because it was lonely in the forest all by myself." She replies wistfully, then perks up again as she changes the subject. "What about you, whatcha doin'? Where ya goin'?"
Jack put on a neutral expression as Miss Vorshin brusquely cautioned him against being so open about the Council's plans for establishment. He took a bit of time to study her features, noting the pale gray of her skin and the tapering blunt ears. Traces of orc in her, most likely. Good to know.
Placing both his hands on his cane and tapping it down in front of him, he smiled genuinely for a change and shook his head. "Mr. Thuldrin Kreed, hrm? Yes, I believe I came across his name in a few of the archive records. Very... efficient man, I must concede. Your concern warms my heart, Miss Vorshin. But I have not come entirely unprepared. You'd be surprised what you can learn about a man through his finances... Mr. Kreed is, but a fallen tree on the road; a challenging, but all too surmountable challenge."
Nodding politely, he returned to his elegant posture and nodded to the gate. "Now then! On to more pressing matters! Securing lodgings and the finest food this charming town can offer!" His eyes scanned the water's edge, looking out for folks with good backs who didn't look too busy.
"Well, Master Rrruh, I've clue how long you plan to stay in Falcon's Hollow, but I sincerely hope it is a pleasant distraction to your travels. Perhaps we shall have the opportunity to get reacquainted in the foreseeable future."
"I'm here to make friends, because it was lonely in the forest all by myself." She replies wistfully, then perks up again as she changes the subject. "What about you, whatcha doin'? Where ya goin'?"
"I'm going to visit the local herabalist, if you must know. She's been workin very hard of late. Black Scour and the like" He says and resumes walking that way. If the other two follow a bit, that's fine. His pace is hardly a hasty one.
Krogge raises a hand in salutation to the fellow half orc,”Hail madam, any chance you have a barrel of anything to drink for sale or trade? Preferably some of that Bellis mead?” he says to her trying to survey the cargo. ”I’ve got some coin if necessary, but I’d prefer to barter; or perhaps I can lend a strong pair of hands for unloading?”
"Oh, it's you," Vorshin groans when she turns to see Krogge. "Even if I thought for a moment you had the sails to buy a cask, the mead is destined for the High Market. Pay Day's developed a taste for the stuff, and if he doesn't get it..." she trails off, shaking her head.
After a moment, she casts a sidelong glare back at Krogge and grumbles, "Gods, don't you ever bathe? You give the rest of us a bad name."
Krogge lifts an arm and sniffs incredulously with a bewildered look on his face. I swam in the river last week...
”Aaarrggghhh come on! You must have something I can take off your hands? Besides what’s the worst Pay Day would do if it was lost in the river...” he says with a wink.
Tilting his head a bit, Jack watched the exchange between the pair of half-orcs. Judging by her comment, at least, that seemed the case. But more interesting was the half-orc fellow she seemed to know. He looked like some good muscle. He might could use a bit of heavy labor if he planned on setting up some kind of operation. Not to mention a good cover... if they're too busy worrying about the half-orc, who's even dream Jack himself was a threat?
And then there was the shipment. Bellis Mead... fancy stuff to be shipping out into the middle of nowhere. "How much?" he asked plainly, stamping his cane into the ferry floor a bit.
"I'm going to visit the local herabalist, if you must know. She's been workin very hard of late. Black Scour and the like" He says and resumes walking that way. If the other two follow a bit, that's fine. His pace is hardly a hasty one.
”An herbalist? Like, she knows plants? Hey, I know plants too!” She is literally bouncing with excitement at the idea that she may share an interest with someone in town. ”Maybe I can help! I’ll come too!”
She follows along, occasionally running circles around the more sedately paced halfling.
Flint nods as they continue off to the herbalist, their common destination.
"So, where are you from, Little Green One? I don't believe I've seen you in town before.
The name he gives doesn't sound like a diminutive. He seems respectful and friendly in referring to her that way. May have to do with translating from Catfolk.
His nose wrinkled up and he took a deep breath through his mouth before making a face at the orc that had just strolled up to inquire about ale. He smelt like he had been taking dips in slow moving rivers! He smiled broadly again lots of teeth as the orc tried to haggle with the caravaner. He was amused at the half orcs suggestion even if it was wrong. It was inportant to keep one's word of course, especially in trade agreements.
"Who is this Pay Day? A merchant in town yes yes?"
He asked tail slightly lashing. He bit back a laugh when the strong smelling one winked at the caravan master. He had traveled about the world enough to know that in some cultures that was the initiation of mating rituals. From the distasteful look on Miss Vorshin's face he had doubts about it though. He instead continued to look about the ferry dock for anything of interest.
Vorshin cocks her head at Jack's suggestion, but before she can respond, Rrruh's question draws her surprised attention.
"And here I thought the young lordling wouldn't stand a chance in this town," she says with a devilish smile aimed at Rrruh.
"Pay Day's only a merchant if you're in the market for pain," she explains to the catfolk. "He works for Gavel Kreed - the big boss of this town - as his chief enforcer. Folks look at his smashed nose and assume we're related. Gods forbid that."
She shakes her head with a groan at the idea before turning back to Jack.
"I'll humor you. I brought four casks of Bellis mead with me. They hold 10 gallons apiece. I can get 30 sails for each one at the High Market. You'll pay 40 to take one off my cart right now."
”40 sails?!?! That’s ridiculous!’, he says gnashing his teeth. ”I’ll head to jack a napes. At least he usually has a barrel of”, he gulps, ”grog...”
He looks at the fancy man who made the offer,”your welcome to join me there m’lord, Jack might not have any Bellis mead, but he’s not nearly as salty, or greedy, as this one”’,he says as he throws a thumb behind him at Ayda.
He looks Rrruh up and down, ”I suppose your kitty can come too”
His ears twitched at the half-orcs gaze for a moment his teeth baring just a bit more. He was no ones "kitty". Like the half orc he did however raise an eyebrow at the cost. If he ever decided to become a merchant perhaps ale selling was the way to do.
"I see, the town bully yes yes? perhaps I shall take a closer look at him, perhaps not. Thank you for the information though Miss Vorshin."
He paused eyeing the rich human as well with a different sort of look.
"Is this a rough town Miss Vorshin, Perhaps friend Jack you would prefer a steady hand watching your back yes yes? I know a friendly fellow whom might be up for it, for a silver peice a day yes yes."
He offered his tail stilling.
Flint nods as they continue off to the herbalist, their common destination.
"So, where are you from, Little Green One? I don't believe I've seen you in town before.
The name he gives doesn't sound like a diminutive. He seems respectful and friendly in referring to her that way. May have to do with translating from Catfolk.
"Oh, a couple days' walk up that way," she says, pausing in her circling to gesture vaguely northward, "in the forest, almost to the mountains. I've never been here before!" Looking north, one can see some of the highest peaks of the Five Kings mountains rising over the Darkmoon Vale, hazy in the distance.
She pulls up beside the catfolk and reaches up for his arm. "Are you soft and fluffy? Lemme feel!"
Jack tried his genuine best at recalling how much a typical cask of mead would be, but for the life of him, he just couldn't. He'd spent so long on the books for the Lumber Consortium, his head was swimming in timber prices, not alcohol... but judging from the other half-orc's reaction, he suspected he was being overcharged. Even so, a cask of fine mead could prove invaluable for bribery... or, at the very least, convince folks he was a little bit gullible.
"Done."
Reaching into his coat pocket, Jack drew out a small pouch and began to count the gold in it, before nodding at Krogge. "Carry my things to the most hospitable place in town for me and I could be convinced to offer you some of it, my good man." Finishing his counting, he held up the pouch to Ayda, before briefly recoiling it to speak again, his expression growing magnificently serious for a moment. "I trust you need this far more than I do. It is my fondest wish that you put these funds to good use. Please don't disappoint me in this regard."
Having said his piece, he more properly handed her the pouch of gold before nodding to "his kitty". "Master Rrruh, I am to assume you are offering physical protection? I trust you know by now my standards. Live up to them and you'll be earning more than silver, I assure you. Now then!" Lifting his cane, Jack nodded again to Ayda before strolling off the ferry and onto solid land. "First, lodgings. Then, business."
Krogge smiled. This man had no idea the value of coin in this town. if he’s gonna toss it around like that I wanna be there to catch it
”heh yessir”,he says to the fancy man,”You’ll be lookin for Jak-a’-Napes. S’bout the most ‘hospitable’ place in town.” he adds, pointing towards the low market.
Flint nods as they continue off to the herbalist, their common destination.
"So, where are you from, Little Green One? I don't believe I've seen you in town before.
The name he gives doesn't sound like a diminutive. He seems respectful and friendly in referring to her that way. May have to do with translating from Catfolk.
"Oh, a couple days' walk up that way," she says, pausing in her circling to gesture vaguely northward, "in the forest, almost to the mountains. I've never been here before!" Looking north, one can see some of the highest peaks of the Five Kings mountains rising over the Darkmoon Vale, hazy in the distance.
She pulls up beside the catfolk and reaches up for his arm. "Are you soft and fluffy? Lemme feel!"
"Here now, he's a Catfolk, not a housepet. The man might not appreciate being patted or petted," He says in a tone that's not too harsh but is meant as a care and courtesy reminder, "I can tell you halflings dont' appreciate it when someone pats our head and treats us like a human child."
"I don't mind the asking, but you may not want to touch too much, Little Green One. My reflexes are a little bit twitchy, and I wouldn't want to overreact on you. Also, I'm not very fluffy. I'm a shorthair."
He seems alright with answering any questions she has, but he's a bit reserved about contact.
Jack, Rrruh, and Krogge take the cask of mead and leave Vorshin at the docks to oversee as the rest of her caravan disembarks from the ferry.
The three disparate men climb the rough path rising from the riverside, winding past the tottering homes of laborers and dock workers, and step into the Low Market.
The wide, packed-earth marketplace is thronged with ramshackle stalls and cart-bound booths. The itinerant shopkeepers loudly hawk their wares as the trio comes into view. They offer candles, blankets, bushels of beans and turnips, sacks of flower, and many other sundry goods worth a few coppers or even a silver or two.
There are also a few food carts offering questionable cuts of grilled meat and clay mugs of moonshine or watery ale.
Apart from these sellers, the market seems strangely empty. There are few prospective customers aside from Jack, Rrruh, and Krogge.
As they approach Jak-a'-Napes and peer up the road leading north, they discover the cause.
Likewise, as Randu, Flint, and Sweet Pea enter through the north gate, they also notice the peculiarity.
There is a large crowd - a mob, really - gathered in front of the herbalist's shop.
He ambled along with the other two fellows quietly taking note of his surroundings, both the people and the homes. Once the marketplace came into view his ambling slouch straightened up and his ears twitched as be began to clearly pay much better attention to their surroundings...though he did pause a moment at one of the questionable shops with cuts of meat... a quick purchase gave him something to look occupied by even as he followed along. He frowned at the large crowd of people outside what looked to be a herbalists shop...
Without making eyecontact to the half orc he wrinkled his nose asking him.
"Is that business normally so... busy?"
Jack pretended to browse the stalls and shops, raising his eyebrows at the questionable products, but inside, his heart ached. This was borderline squalor... these were supposed to be the best they had to offer! But more importantly, he was getting an idea of the layout of the town.
But his looking over the town was interrupted by the sight of a mob forming around what looked like an herbalist shop. "That's not business... when you work in the capital as long as I have, you recognize civil unrest very well. And that unrest is about to boil over into a riot..."
Without even pausing to think on the notion, Jack picked up his pace and approached the outliers of this growing group, singling out a few of the more passive folks and trying to get their attention. "Ladies, gentlemen! Seems to be a degree of social discord brewing here. What seems to be the cause?"
”That’s Ms. Laurel’s shop!’ Krogge says with concern and surprise. and this dandy says it’s a riot?
Krogge will imediately put Jack’s things down and march with him towards the mob, being sure to let Jack lead the way. At least he seems to think he knows how to handle this, I’ll let him take charge for now
The halfling cuts through the crowd, using his small size to take short cuts under legs if he must, trying to find out what's going on here.
The catfolk tilts his hat down and uses the distraction of the riot to fade from sight and learn what he can, scaling the building if necessary, but staying unseen.
As you approach the herbalist's shop, where a weathered wooden sign offers the name Roots and Remedies, you discover that the assembled crowd is divided into three groups.
Closest to the shop and barring the door appear to be three town guards, although they're very irregular in their equipment.
Opposing them, a very coarse man with a piggish nose stands accompanied by five men in leathers, who all carry maces and cudgels.
The man leading the opposing group is Boss Payden Teedum, Gavel Kreed's righthand man and top enforcer.
...
Finally, the outer and by far most numerous group is a motley mob of Falcon's Hollow residents. They surround the inner two groups, giving them a wide berth, but these residents are clearly upset at the situation.
A disorderly chorus of shouts and arguments fill the morning air, and the entire street seems on the verge of riot.
'Yikes... not sure who's who in this situation, but it's a coiled spring ready to activate! Better try and defuse this before the whol street goes up in a roar.' Jack reached up to adjust his undershirt and vest before looking over at Rrruh and Krogge. "Master Rrruh, Master Krogge, do stay close... but I do believe that this requires a bit of civility."
Squeezing his way through the throngs, Jack approached the edge of the conflict cautiously and quietly, placing both hands on the head of his cane before clearing his throat. "Er-hrm! Gentlemen, please, return your weapons! There is no need to resolve things like savages! I have no doubt this has evolved from a simple mistake, and I'd be more than happy to mediate this disagreement over of a well-deserved glass of Bellis Mead! Let's provide a suitable public example and show these fine folks that there are civil ways to resolve a conflict!"
Sweet Pea is uncharacteristically subdued and thoughtful after receiving the short lecture on personal boundaries, but perks up again at the sight of the crowd. ” Wow, I never knew there could be so many people in one place! There must be dozens of them!”
She runs toward the throng to introduce herself, but the people seem too upset with whatever is going on to notice her. A quick sprint, jump, and a flutter puts her on the roof of the building opposite the herbalist’s shop.
If Krogge notices sweet pea
”uh,did either of you see that flowery halfling fly to that roof?”
If Krogg notices Flint
”and that other kitty climb that other building”
two kitties in one day? How strange
Flint remains unnoticed by all except Krogge as he scales the roof of Colbrin Jabbs' butcher shop for a better vantage point.
However, as Sweet Pea flits atop the herbalist shop, she evokes many cries, gasps, and shrieks from the shocked crowd below.
A good number of people from the crowd run for safety, fearful of a fey attack.
An orange cat - a normal sized one - is startled as you pass through the air and scrambles from its bed in a window box and leaps inside an open window with a surprised yowl.
From your perch atop the gently pitched roof, sitting beside a robin's nest, you have a good view of the many people below. They are making even more noise now, and a lot of them are running around.
"What devilry is this, Baleson?" the smash-nosed leader of the armed men bellows. "Have you and your snake oil sellin' woman been makin' pacts with the fey? Hah! All the more reason that cure should be turned over to Mista' Kreed! We need to check an' make sure it's safe."
"I don't rightly know who or what that was, Pay Day, but we have nothing to do with it, and it don't change the fact that you aren't stealing this medicine," declares the man guarding the shop door.
Krogge looks to Jack and Rrruh, "If Payday thinks he can steal from Ms. Laurel, he's in for a rude awakening", he says swiftly. "He'd just as soon 'tax' you the mead for interrupting him."
"Sheriff Baleson!!!," Krogge roars,"I stand with you against these thieves!!", Krogge will roar in full view of the crowd as he draws his Greatclub and brandishes it over his head, hoping to clear the mob enough to stand with the Sheriff and his deputies.
If the crowd disperses enough he will take a place behind the sheriff and his men, if he fails to clear a path he will begin pushing his way through the crowd.
Flint climbs back down the building away from the crowd, approaching again from the back of the crowd with his hat pulled down over his face.
He moves amongst the edge of the crowd, muttering things along the lines of "they should pay for it themselves. They've got enough money."
He does so, quietly, not drawing attention to himself, moreso making it seem like the mob's idea.
Stealth
Diplomacy