"Yeah, he was a bird man," Sweet Pea adds conspiratorially, popping up between Flint and Jack, "He helped us kill some guys, and we got to keep their money!" She holds out a single silver piece as irrefutable proof.
As Krogge taps the cask of mead, Jak Crimmy leans out and calls from the kitchen.
"My only protest will be if you don't share a mug with me. One more quaff of Sauerton Red and I'm liable to go axe crazy," Crimmy laughs.
Large barrels of Sauerton Red are floated down the Andoshen River to Almas, and from there it is exported throughout the Inner Sea. Despite its terrible taste, its low cost and high alcohol content make it a popular "drink of the people." Nevertheless, in Almas, Augustana, and other cities of Andoran, it has become popular to describe something of poor quality as having come "down from Sauerton." In your own experience, you've heard the phrase applied to everything from talentless theater performances to poorly made carriage wheels.
Large barrels of the stuff are floated down the river from Sauerton to Almas. Since Olfden, south of Falcon's Hollow, is along the river route from Sauerton, an abundance of the wine ends up transported up the road to Darkmoon Vale.
You wouldn't even use it as cooking wine, much less anything drinkable.
More at ease that the crowd was... well the sort of crowd he had less to worry about then some of the thugs and lackeys they would no doubt find soon interspersed within the loggers populace, he allowed himself one drink of alcholic nature. Then he began telling the story about their battle with the tatzylwryrm.... leaving out certain parts of course.
Flint speaks to the green fey in Sylvan in his usual way that makes it seem like he's doing it out of courtesy, but really it's to make sure only the recipient understands.
Flint shudders at the mention of the "wine," having only made that mistake once, but still regretting it.
Krogge takes a deep draw from his mug before booming,"HARHARHAR well then Jak, lets pour you a pint too!", and while pouring Jak a mug as well he says,"hehe you drink that? I thought it was cleaning out wounds, at least that the only thing I've ever used it for, ahahahaha"
Krogge will spend the night enjoying the revelry and happily retell the story to whoever wants to hear it, however each time the details get a little different as he has trouble keeping the story straight between the Mead and what Flint laid out as the story.
"Sauerton Red? Maybe for wiping furniture down, if you weren't afraid of fire, but other than that, useless" A shudder. His one attempt to cook with the stuff long ago was horrible, leading to one person being struck nearblind.
Sweet Pea's face scrunches up in confusion as she listens to the talk of bad booze. "If this Sour Red stuff is so terrible, why do they even make it?"
Krogge responds to the green little lady's question,"S'like me and Randu said, what else would clean wounds and wipe furniture with?"
He paused and looked about the room and smiled a catlike smile.
"I've heard tell there is a powerfully foul beverage here yes yes. We slew the pretzylwyrm... I shall try it!"
He called out trying to get the crowd further into their cups and entertainment and not thinking about any slips of the tongue that might have occured.. he really didnt want to drink furniture cleaner... but one wouldnt hurt ...right?
The smaller cat gives a full body shudder that bristles his hair from top to bottom at the mention of the stuff.
For some, it's better than nothing at all.
Truth be told, Flint is starting to feel like he needs a drink with how everyone he's become involved with seems incapable of keeping one simple half truth that could get them all killed secret, but he also knows at least one of them needs to stay sober in case the issue arrives sooner rather than later.
The little fey blinks a few times, trying to process what has been said. "Yeah, I still don't get it."
Jak listened, but the mention of the Blue Corvus made his eyes narrow... even if, on the inside, he was a bit pleased with himself. "(You mean the Blue Corvus?! That feathered delinquent really is in town!? ...and you didn't apprehend him!?)" he hissed back, acting really mad about the affair. "(And yes, I know him. He is a criminal, a vigilante, and his actions bring about chaos and lawlessness! The next time you see him, you report him to the local authorities!)"
The mention of Sauerton Red gets Jack back in a more casual prickly mood rather than an angry prickly mood. "I have had the distinct luxury of never having to square off with the drink myself... though its reputation is disgustingly legendary. In Almas, they bandy around the phrase 'down from Sauerton' to describe anything that lacks quality. I don't - I have a much more robust vocabulary than to use quaint folksy mannerisms to describe things."
Jack looked at the Bellis Mead for a moment, before tapping the table and thinking. "Bah... curse my inefficiency today! Had I a proper office to keep things organized, I could get started on a list of volunteers. Now that we have the location of the resource, I need to begin getting a list of available workers together to start harvesting said resource... I'd even be willing to spare some of that Bellis Mead for anyone willing to sign up. But as it stands... I have nowhere to maintain these records..."
Crimmy himself brings out the brown bottle. A small paper label pasted upon its body declares, in hand-inked letters, 'Sauerton Red' and offers a vintage of two years prior. He sets down the tray and passes around six small wooden cups.
"Just in case anyone else is feeling brave," Jak says with a wink.
He pops open the cork, and almost immediately an acrid odor wafts out to assail your noses. Jak barely betrays his own wince at the smell as he pours a cup for Rrruh and hands it to the catfolk.
Krogge will pass the cup offered to him, instead saying to Rrruh,"You'd be better off putting on yer wound then down your gullet, Cat, as he take a long swig of his mead.
Sweet Pea stares at the bottle intently, eyes narrowed. Finally she takes a cup and holds it out to Crimmy with a look of grim determination.
With a very feline like grin he looks to the crowd of bodies makes an exaggerated wink and quickly downs the vile liquid...
Rrruh gulps down the nefarious vintage, and though it burns more like a spirit than a wine on the way down his throat, he manages to keep it down - despite an aftertaste that he best likens to a rotting cow that caught fire.
Crimmy nods, impressed, as he watches the catfolk maintain his composure while holding his wine.
"Are you sure little lady?" the innkeeper asks Sweet Pea even as he pours the wine in her cup.
Randu passes, "The only thing I need to prove to anyone is that I have some sense." a bit of a chuckle
"It's the only way to know." she says grimly, then tosses it back.
Perhaps owing to her bonds with the wilderness, or because she has been raised on tough stuff out in the wilds, the wine does not faze Sweet Pea in the slightest. She actually seems to...enjoy it?
The rest of the group, somewhat aghast at the Gathlain's palate, keeps to the Bellis Mead and local ale instead.
"I'll add the Red, the ale, and the food onto m'lord Callahan's tab," Crimmy explains. "Don't worry about the mead. I don't charge no cockamamie 'corkage' fee for bringing your own. Then again, don't know if I've ever had someone bring their own cask. Ha!"
After passing the evening peaceably, in the morning Sheriff Baleson arrives at Jak-a-Napes to seek out "the man from Almas" and his associates.
"There's an important matter I want to discuss with you," the lean half-elf explains, his words vaguely tinted by the gravity of the business he brings.
It's hard to tell if Sweet Pea is awake yet. At some point the previous night, everyone else lost track of both her and the bottle of Sauerton Red. She now looks like a topiary that hasn't been tended in a decade, and mutters complaints about bright lights and loud noises.
Krogge will have spent the night enjoying the company and the mead before finally finding the bed he was in the last night in Jack's room. He makes his way down to the common room for something to eat and, noticing Sweet Pea, says "Well hello little lady, hee hee I'd uh thought you'd be a little redder in the leaves after all that Sauerton ye snuck away with. Come with me, we'll get ye some bacon, eggs, nice buttery toast and some hair o the dog to get ye right as rain." he says assuredly.
Jack spends the night resting from his exercise from the day. He needed a bit of rest... and a good thing too, because in the morning, the sheriff himself came in for a visit.
Sitting down at his table, Jack was enjoying his breakfast when the half-elf arrived. Pausing in his meal, he feigned a look of disinterest... but was genuinely concerned. If this rough and tumble sheriff was worried, so was he. "And what matter could be so important as to disrupt such a lovely breakfast, my dear constable? As you can see, my associates - well, some at least - have their own troubles to address. This must be of the utmost urgency."
Sweet Pea blinks up at Krogge blearily. "Wha? I don' wanna eat dog hair."
"I can't rightly call it urgent, but it's definitely important," the sheriff says, not waiting for an invitation to take a seat.
"For some time now, I've hoped to organize the town's first election for mayor. Implementing such an office would not only provide a counter to the Gavel's unchecked power, but it would serve as a rallying point for the locals - giving them cause to stand up together against the Consortium's abuses.
"The problem is that I've had no way to keep Kreed from turning such an election into a sham. He would just use the opportunity to turn one of his puppets into mayor, bullying folks into voting for him. Not to mention what he might try to pull against anyone who runs against him.
"Now then, to cut to the meat, since you and your friends are objective outsiders - and since you represent the council in Almas - I've come to ask you to serve as observers to ensure the election runs fair and honest. I'll spare the honey and share the ugly truth: this job will be dangerous. I don't know how politics run in Almas, but around here it'll probably involve dust-ups with thugs from the Consortium or the Redrocks, hired to intimidate candidates and voters."
Krogge smiles at the small green girl,"Ye don't eat it, Sweet one, ye drink it." he says as he pours the two of them a mug and wait for Jak to start making breakfast.
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Krogge will listen politely to the Sherriff's proposition before asking,"Whos gonna be mayor?"
'Aye, he would indeed do all that. Folks who voted against him would be afraid to vote at all."Randu frowns, "You're asking us to act as the rod for the lightning and hope we draw it off from others?"
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Jack ponders that a bit. A mayoral election? To be honest... such a concept had completely eluded him! It was a lumber town, but still in Anodren territory... why was there no bureaucracy of any sort in place?
"I see... so this Kreed is NOT in fact an elected official on behalf of the government.... that puts a number of things into great perspective. Namely... the severe lack of organization on more levels than I care to mention." Jack leaned back and placed his utensils on his plate, before reaching down to his pack and pulling out a number of papers. "Yes, yes, in Almas, things are a great deal more civilized. Elections are commonplace and well respected, and efforts to sway or bribe the election are held in check by overly patriotic individuals and organizations who oversee that things proceed smoothly. Ah, the fervor that democractic ideals bring..."
Jack shuffled through his papers, tapping at a few and pursing his lips. "Yes indeed, Master Krogge... who indeed. I doubt you will find a capable candidate in this 'rough and tumble' district. You will need someone who is organized, disciplined, well spoken. Not to mention a good deal of experience with government, organizations of the like, has the funds to run a promotional campaign. And if this Kreed does so indeed hold the sway you claim he does and will do his best to influence such an election, you would need a candidate who has an unwavering resolution to his duty, remains intimidated by such blase threats, and offers protection against such thuggery, if such an event were to pass."
Jack huffed a bit, pulling out a pencil and marking something on one of his papers before continuing. "And that is to say nothing of the need for a proper city hall. Nor the need for absolute idiot proof methods of deciding and announcing the election." Jack placed his papers down and folded his fingers together.
"In short, you wish to run a mayoral election with neither the candidate, nor the means. So... I accept the offer."
Krogge has little to no idea what a campaign is or how someone would 'run' for mayor, but he seems interested in the idea. "Jack, you gonna be mayor?"
He ordered food for himself and his 'cousin' Flint. Having seen parts of the logging operation... and speaking with the workers while they celebrated last night he had no doubts that it seemed lumberjacks were poor folk. It made him wonder why they worked for such pittance when clearly those above them made so much more.
He was half into his food when the sheriff fellow came in, and his ears lay back for a long moment when Rrruh realized what the man was suggesting... or at least thought he was suggesting.
"I am confused. Are you suggestion that someone run for mayor? Or that we protect the proverbial voters and ballot box? or Both maybe yes yes?
He glanced at Jack when he started mentioning he should run for mayor and for a moment his hackles rose and his tail lashed. The damned fool was trying to get himself killed why would he....Then he took a deep breath and centered himself. This was certainly going to be one interesting adventure.
The sheriff leans back and raises his brow, surprise thinly showing in his gold-flecked eyes at the notion of Jack running for mayor.
"I had envisioned you folks just protecting voters and keeping an eye out for fraud," Baleson clarifies. "But now that you mention it, I have a much longer list of people who shouldn't be mayor than those who should be."
He sets an elbow on the table and rests his chin on his thumb.
"I once sent a letter asking for help with this matter, but the government reply was that Magistrate Harg, as the 'resident with the best knowledge of law,' would be a 'fine candidate.' I guess they couldn't know how bad of an idea that would be. That cowardly slip washed out as a barrister in Carpenden and only landed this post because the Consortium knew he'd be easy to keep leashed. He's exactly the candidate Kreed would run, and he's exactly who we wouldn't want in the role.
"As much as holding an honest election would benefit this town, I honestly don't know what soul in this sawdust-choked hole has the cobbles to rise to the occasion."
Krogge listens along, while chewing on some bacon and a pile of scrambled eggs. If harg cant be trusted, and Jack cant do it, the answers obvious isn't it?
"why not you Sherrif? you can handle yourself and with some of us helping you and your deputies should be able to make sure its a right election right?"
The sheriff looks briefly at the table before replying, the fleeting ghost of a grin on his face for an instant.
"You're certainly not the first to suggest that," he says humbly. "Any time talk turns to having a mayor, I always hear at least one well-meaning person mention my name. But that ain't me. I'm much better as a sheriff - even more so than I ever was as a lumberjack. I'd much rather continue to serve under a more fair-minded mayor. When the right person gets elected, they'll need a good lawman on their side, anyhow."
"Because that leads to the feared so-called tyranny you common folk rail against at the slightest behest. 'He who controls how the law is enforced controls the people.' Besides, our dear sheriff is clearly more suited to settling quarrels that require tight belts and clenched fists." Jack said, straightening his papers with a few taps before setting them down in his pack. "It would seem the unscuffed, unsullied son of a former noble house is looking more and more appealing, wouldn't you say?"
He took a bite of bread before dabbing his mouth and continuing. "Let us be frank: you have next to no capable candidates for this election, and from the sound of it, the few souls you do have seem fraught with possible corruption, or so the allegation goes. I would say incompetence is the bigger culprit, but I shall humor the notion." He took another bite before placing a hand on his chest. "Now, you have myself: I have the experience of leadership, the funds, and at my last count, I am the only one in this 'shanty town' who works directly for the People's Council. As treasurer, no less! And, need I point out (which clearly, I must) that I stand to do nothing, but gain from some political clout in town. It would behoove me to maintain some semblance of order and stability over the affairs of this town, and as I am here to offer further work to the good people of the Hollow, it seems most logical that I head political affairs. And perhaps, with such a title, our dear Mr. Kreed will finally find some time in his schedule to speak with me about the Council's wishes. And as if I could not already be everything you seek, I am in no way impressed nor moved by Mr. Kreed's plights in these affairs. The law is the law, and if he wishes to run against me, I welcome him to come out of hiding and face me in the forums. I heartily look forward to shredding his lack of efficiency before the entire populace."
Jack nodded at the sheriff before returning to his meal. "That is, of course, if the good constable has a more fitting candidate in mind."
Sheriff Baleson purses his lips, seriously mulling the idea of championing the ersatz noble as mayor. He leans back in his chair, deep in terse thought, before finally assessing the notion.
"You're an outsider," he states, matter-of-factly. "That's both your greatest asset and greatest hurdle to becoming mayor of this town. As you can imagine, on the frontier, folks don' trust anyone or anything they don't know. I hate to admit it, but there's a good many Valers who'd side with Kreed just because he's the devil they know."
He leans forward, his elbows on the table.
"That isn't insurmountable, though. And if I'm being honest, we don't have many better options.
"Colbrin Jabbs would never step up and risk putting his family in Kreed's sights. Brickasnurd would probably lose interest after a week. Tabrik...he's a good man, but he's too close to Harg and can't bring himself to admit his lover's considerable flaws. And no one, myself included, would want to see Lady Cirthana turn this into some kind of holy mess.
"Aside from you, Mr. Callahan, the only other reasonable candidates would be Jak Crimmy there or Miss Deveera Gadsel over at the Woodwil."
Krogge chuckles at the sheriffs list,”Don’t forget me haha” he jokes as he finishes breakfast and stands up to stretch.
Flint tends to fade into the background of things out of habit, and has been sitting quietly and eating the breakfast he thanked Rrruh profusely for and will pay for once they visit their benefactor at the bar.
"The people need governing, but more importantly, the people need their own choice in who does it. All of you can run, but it's not our job to tell people who to vote for. All we need to do is make it a fair run. We can make this town a better, safer place, but it's going to take the town deciding they want that enough to stand up to Kreed for it."
He nods at Flint's comment, "Man's right. No point in screaming at folks that htey're free then tell them in the next breath 'now here's what your'e going to do'"
"My deputies and I will start spreading word through the Low Market that I will make an announcement in two days' time," the sheriff explains. "That's when we will declare the forthcoming election. Keeping it somewhat secret until then will keep Kreed off balance, and he won't know to preemptively spook any potential candidates or voters.
"If any of you have the heart and stomach to run for office, you have two days to make up your mind, start thinking of how to improve this down, and prepare to have a target painted on your back."
If there are no more questions, the sheriff excuses himself and departs the inn.
"Well Mr. Rrruh, Flint, Randy, and Miss Sweet Pea, I believe mista' Tock has something for us if you'd care to join me." Krogge says as the sheriff leaves, following shorty after unless someone has something else to say.
Flint politely stacks his dishes and returns them to the counter.
"Yes, definitely."
Fresh furrows in the ever-present sawdust upon the gravelly road bespeak the many feet that have already marched to work.
Stepping out from Jak-a-Napes, you see the portly Jasin Greatoak doing his best to help push carts and stalls around, finding the perfect layout for the Low Market. Farmers and sellers shout at each other and at Greatoak, demanding the best locations and jockeying for more space.
Greatoak seems befuddled by the conflicting demands, but does his best to accommodate the requests with his strength and a good-natured smile.
You notice a small group of people marching down Worship Way and turning north onto the street towards the Sitting Duck. However, they don't look like the rough-and-tumble tavern types. In fact, they have rough wooden holy symbols openly displayed from around their necks.
"Iomedaens... look like they are on the warpath. Could be trouble."
He murmered to the group nodding towards the congregation on their march to wherever they were heading.
"Could be, but are they the trouble or are they dealing with trouble? Maybe we should help?" Nervous, the halfling is sure his life choices might not thrill some religions, but that doesn't mean they might not be the good folk here.
Though the morning sunlight makes her squint, Sweat Pea seems to be recovering quickly. "Where are we going?" she asks as she follows Krogge down the street.
Gotta go get the gold for killing the wyrm, remember? he says to the small green girl. "Are ye feeling any better after eatin'?"
"Aye they definitely look like they fixing to do some bruising'" Krogge says as he considers Randu's question,"Might be a good idea, maybe one of them can be Mayor?"
"Yes, yes, you lot go and speak with Mr. Tock about the wyrm. I still need to find a capable taxydermist to stuff that, have it mounted... Oh! Perhaps a good campaign symbol, yes! Yes, 'Hollow is safer with Callahan in charge!' Yes, yes..." Jack said, muttering upstairs as he returned to his room... it wasn't actually a terrible idea, but if the others were going to visit Egrin Tock, it might be a good idea to have a little birdie follow them...
Quickly changing into his Corvus attire, Jack quietly crept to the window, opened it, and clambered outside, looking to stick to the rooftops... but not be seen TOO much. Perhaps, if the people got a glimpse of a blue bird man, it might help lend a bit of hope to the poor citizens. For now, he stuck to the rooftops, aiming to keep out of sight.
Atop the roof, you hope across the adjoining buildings without attracting any attention. This is no mean feat, as the considerably small size of Falcon's Hollow compared to Almas makes such deeds harder to conceal.
Nevertheless, you secretly ensconce yourself in a viewing position on a building overlooking the Sitting Duck, across the road.
The Iomedeans march towards the Sitting Duck. As they approach, two men take notice and run to beat them to the tavern. They slip inside, looking quite frantic.
When the Iomedeans reach the tavern, they find the door sealed against them. The lead among them - a man possessed of broad, hairy arms - pounds his heavy fist upon the door.
"Open up!" he demands. "We're here for Pulk! Put him out, or we'll drag him out!"
You notice some of the other Iomedeans begin to scoop up stones from the dusty road, and they seem to eye the tavern's windows.
A recent convert to Iomedae - a young buck from Olfden, named Jeb - took a knife to the throat during the chaos of the brawl. He bled out before Lady Cirthana could be called to heal him.
Although Sheriff Baleson is investigating, many local Iomedeans are convinced that a man named Pulk was responsible for Jeb's death.
Know Local
"There was a fight the other day. They mean to kill this man before the sherriff can find out what really happened."
He seems hesitant, unsure of what to do next...