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He sighed and for just a moment the lithe catfolk looked really really tired.
"Where is that blasted Jack when you need him."
He muttered and just so happened to glance up shaking his head for a moment. He was going to go do a fool thing like dress up like a ...He spotted the man in his getup and could only slap his paw up over his face for a moment. His headache from drinking that foul mess wasnt going to go away it seemed.
He tilted his head to the side and popped his neck then marched forward planting himself firmly in front of the iomedaen crowd.
"HALT! Are you worshipers of the goddess of valor, justice and honor or not? I am not from here but I am told you are seeking a man who is under investigation by the very law of this town for a crime. Has that investigation already concluded? Are you not perverting the very idea of Justice that your Goddess Espouses?"
Jack got a good vantage point from the building across the way, ducking down and keeping a good eye on things. For now, Rrruh seemed to be taking the tension down a peg... for the moment. He was pretty good at this!
But he wasn't keen on taking on a group of the Inheritor's faithful... left a bad taste in his mouth. If things got out of hand... he might could make a move inside and grab hold of the guy they were looking for. Perhaps a change of scenery would change their moods. "Jack" would certainly make for a good shield... they might be less willing to through some rocks if an innocent was in the way.
For now, it was best to watch and keep ready.
"AYY WHAT'R YA DOIN' WITH THOSE ROCKS!?" Krogge roars loudly.they better not mess up Tock's place till after he pays us he thinks while pointing to the Iomedaens.
The combination of Rrruh's appeal and Krogge's bellow seems to cow the Iomedeans. While they do not disperse, they also do not cast stones and shuffle nervously as they are confronted.
"Aye, we are followers of the Inheritor!" their leader roars defiantly. "And we will see justice done! In the sheriff's hands, the law is inept. In the Gavel's hands, it is perverted. Justice must be vigilant and assertive, and we will reclaim it!"
You remember that distinct phrase - "justice must be vigilant and assertive" - from the warrior priestess' sermon.
You aren't sure whether these adherents are merely misguided or if Lady Cirthana is spurring her congregation to action, but it is clear that these men and women are convinced that they are carrying out the will of their goddess.
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He sighed... again, though he quickly was able to pick the leader from the crowd from his defiant roaring.
"Are you so sure of his guilt? You are willing to put yourself on the line? If you are wrong and you dispense justice to the man and are wrong, are you willing to bet that your goddess wont look upon that act with a serious frown? It would in fact be murder most foul. Are you willing to face the judgement for that if you are wrong?"
He began not moving from in front of the door. He did shift his stance just ever so slightly forward ready to move quickly if need be.
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The combination of Rrruh's appeal and Krogge's bellow seems to cow the Iomedeans. While they do not disperse, they also do not cast stones and shuffle nervously as they are confronted.
"Aye, we are followers of the Inheritor!" their leader roars defiantly. "And we will see justice done! In the sheriff's hands, the law is inept. In the Gavel's hands, it is perverted. Justice must be vigilant and assertive, and we will reclaim it!"
** spoiler omitted **
Randu stiffens, "You think I do not know frustration? AN urge for revenge? Ask me of fallen family some time. But you good folk seem more assertive than vigilant. Vigilant means watchful does it not? to learn and see before acting? Only once you know all the facts and reasons should you then assert justice. Justice enacted without the truth is not justice, it is at best revenge, and at worst, it becomes an injustice itself. How dare you.. how dare you think your loss is so special that you act on it, while ignoring the injustice others have endured. the losses they have endured? Shall this Pulk wear the goat skin then? So he might die for all the wrongs we as a village have failed to work against? Iomedae looks on what you're doing and weeps, I think. How dare you think your loss is greater. This is not justice, it is selfishness. I am selfish, and vengeful, but at least I don't blind myself to the truth of it. Be Vigilant first! Assert after! And be vigilant for all for justice exists for all men, or it exists for none" Oh how he wishes he had the gift for speeches of others.
Sweet Pea stands listening to the eloquent speeches on high concepts of justice, revenge, and loss. "Um, Hi," she says to the cowed priests, "did somebody do something bad? Maybe we should get their side of the story?"
"Well why don't you try to be mayor instead of murdering someone!" Krogge blurts out before has a chance to think about what he said...am I allowed to say that? he thinks as he takes a step back.
Instead of the direct approach everyone else seems to be taking, Flint tilts his hat down and gets lost in the crowd.
Disguise
Stealth
Diplomacy
He slips in amongst the crowd and acts like anyone else just there for the same reason, moving through in the flow of people shifting and changing position to get a better view, quietly planting ideas that are hard to determine who in the crowd said.
"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea." "We can trust the sherriff, can't we?" "I don't think it's our job to take the law into our own hands..."
Individually, you likely would not have broken through to the incensed Iomedeans. When taken together, though, your appeals sap the fight from the crowd.
Rrruh's ethical examination, Sweet Pea's innocent insight, Krogge's direct approach, the wisdom that Randu draws from personal loss, and Flint's surprisingly successful ability to blend in with his fellow Valers - these combined contributions pacify the crowd's blind call for justice.
Stones are dropped, and several Iomedeans sheepishly wander away. Although a few remain beside their leader, it is clear that their hearts no longer hold the same conviction as when they first marched upon the tavern.
"Well...what's all this about a mayor? We ain't got a mayor any more than we got fair justice!" the crowd's leader bellows, struggling to maintain control.
"Well...what's all this about a mayor? We ain't got a mayor any more than we got fair justice!" the crowd's leader bellows, struggling to maintain control.
Krogge's greenish grey skin begins to do what could only be called blushing on a half-orc,oh what did my big mouth just do...
Jack relaxed a little bit as the Iomedean congregation seemed to be dispersing. Looks like the old mediator wasn't needed after all!
That was, until Krogge mentioned the mayoral election! That might be a problem. The sheriff wanted to keep things under wraps to avoid any voter influence. They needed a quick distraction.
This might be a job for the Blue Corvus!
"Hahahahaha! Fair justice? Justice walks the streets of the Hollow by night now!" Jack called up from his perch on the roof across the way, though he tried to stay hidden while doing so. Perhaps a little voice throwing would confuse folks enough! "To anyone who calls Kreed their boss, listen up: your days of frightening the good people of the Hollow are over! Now it's your turn to fear the night! I am the spirit of liberty! I am the confidante of the night wind! And I am the eyes that see your evil from the darkest corners of your so-called 'safe havens'! I am the Blue Corvus! And the night belongs to me now!"
The crowd is thrown into confusion as the voice from above echoes off the nearby buildings. Their eyes race to every corner and shadow lining the street, looking for the source. A few turn their eyes to the roof across the side and successfully trace the source of the voice, but they cannot see the Blue Corvus lurking in the lee of the chimney.
The Iomedeans - as well as the other passers-by who had stopped to watch the scene - scatter in fright and bewilderment, retreating into homes and shops.
"What is happening to this town?" one voice exclaims, characterizing the rest of the cries and shrieks offered by the fleeing folks.
Other than the ground-based party members, the only people left in the street in front of the Sitting Duck are the mob's leader and one other supporter - likely a relative, judging by the resemblance in the face.
Randu is glad the folks came out of their rage. Then he swallows as he realizes the gamble he just took. Got ired enough to forge sense, I did.
Then the Blue Corvis speaks. He's not sure that's an improvement.
"Hey, it's the Bird Man!" Sweet Pea says, perking up. For a moment she looks like she is going to say more, but changes her mind. Instead she takes to the rooftops looking for him.
Flint uses the confusion of people scattering to clear back out of the group, returning to his usual nonchalant stance a ways away from the going son to appear interested but uninvolved.
He smirks a little bit, still unsure of what to make of this bird man.
"This town could use a mayor," the now largely abandoned mob leader says bitterly. "Someone to remind these Valers what justice is all about. Come'on, Burgs."
He gestures to his remaining companion, likely a brother, and they stomp westward down a dusty side street.
Once they are out of sight, the Sitting Duck's door opens. Ergin Tock stands in the entrance, a club the size of an ox's haunch hanging from his thickly knuckled hand.
He cranes his head, making sure all the Iomedean troublemakers have gone before he looks closer and takes notice of you. Like a frightful start, he seems to reach a remembrance.
"Oh, right. You folks," he mumbles. "I'd heard some of my regulars talking about how you did in that wyrm. I promised a reward, didn't I? Well, come'on in."
His welcome is reluctant, and Tock certainly lacks Crimmy's gregariousness - at least with you.
Jack smirked as Sweet Pea flew up to find him, leaning against the decorative top of the building across the way. He didn't make too much of an effort to hide should she find him, but instead put a finger up to his mouth and made a "Shhhh" motion for her to keep his presence quiet. Once the coast was clear, Jack clambered down the side of the building to approach the Sitting Duck. "(You go get that reward he promised... I'm gonna keep an eye on things in the back. Don't let 'em know I'm here, alright?)"
Waiting for the others to head inside, Jack put his cowl and cloak up a bit more, before heading after and taking a seat a couple tables away from wherever the group sits down, keeping his head low as he listened in.
Sweet Pea returns the wink enthusiastically, then flies back down to join the others. "I looked and looked, but I couldn't find the Bird Guy at all!" she announces, "He totally just disappeared!"
Randu mutters "And suddenly I want to get drunk."
Krogge will follow Tock into the bar, staying close behind to get his reward.
Sweet Pea's story seems especially exaggerated, but it's easy to chalk it up to her overeager nature. After all, her explanation is backed up when you discover Jack already waiting for you within the Sitting Duck.
Despite being early in the day, the tavern already hosts a number of patrons - likely loggers and other laborers looking to shirk their work for a spell. A motley collection of knives and raised chairs are returned to their resting places as the even more motley men realize there won't be a fight after all.
This is best for them, as most of them look too deep in their cups before noon to be of any use in a scrap.
Tock holds up his hands to draw his customers' attention.
"These are the folks who slayed the wyrm that was preying on our boys!" he calls, loudly but somewhat hesitantly. "We owe them a reward. That's how this sort of thing works...I think. So let's pony up! What can we offer them for saving your hides?"
A chorus of grumbles and muted curses rise like a simmering stew as the men and women begin rummaging through pockets and coin purses, looking for whatever copper and silver they can spare.
Thankfully, Tock himself fishes a lockbox from a hiding spot behind the bar to retrieve a more substantial share for your reward.
He grinned a very toothy grin at the leftover leader and his kin folk.
"Is there still some sort of sastisfaction you seek yes yes? I am called Rrruh, you are?"
Whether or not the leader decided to respond after a few moments more Rrruh offered a polite little bow before he moved to address and follow his copatriots.
"This does seem the sort of place for that Randu yes yes, Libations abound it seems"
He began his tail lashing about wildly as his tail flicked back and forth in excitement.
Flint follows in the midst of the group, ever the quiet pragmatist. It was better if people didn't know he was involved with anything at all, but he gets the feeling that would be increasingly unlikely in the company he's been keeping.
He seems a little surprised when Tock requests the patrons to turn out pockets. He was under the impression a voluntary collection had already been taken. He can't deny he needs the money, but he also knows everyone here probably did too. Well, maybe not as much if they were here instead of at work...
I usually try to stay sharp, but all of this bird business is starting to get me that feeling too. I'm still not entirely sure what to make of the whole thing. He just starts showing up everywhere all of a sudden.
"Looks like we got..." Tock mumbles as he counts through the coins deposited on the counter, "19 coppers, 12 silver, and...what is this? Edmund! Is this a gold tooth? Wait, this isn't even gold, it's brass. Yes, it's brass. No, it's not gold. I told you that barber would rip you off."
Tock draws a heavy sigh before fishing a number of gold coins from his lockbox. He does some internal calculations and finally portions out 48 gold coins.
"There we go. Forty-eight gold, for eight coins apiece."
The tavern owner looks up expectantly. You suspect that he is hoping the amount will be enough. Perhaps he is being a little stingy, but judging upon how little wealth his patrons can muster, you suspect that money is tight even for Tock.
The halfling holds back a sigh at the measly amount. It's not their fault, poverty is rife here.
Krogge accepted the reward, happy to have more than doubled his wealth. ”I think a round for the lads is in order?’” as he tosses 3 of the gold coins back to Tock. ”this e’nuff?” he grunts.
Sweet Pea holds the handful of coins like they're a fortune. "Wow, thank you."
As Krogge "reinvests" the coins back into the tavern, a cheer rises from the patrons.
Likewise, a smile crosses Tock's face as he begins pouring a new round of mugs.
"Truth be told," Tock leans in and whispers, "Business isn't that good. The Sitting Duck isn't much of a golden goose."
Tock smiles broadly at his own joke, but he composes himself and continues when it becomes clear that it is not as funny as he initially thought.
"When I first came to town, years back, I got my start dragging saws like a lot of these guys," he says with a wave to the tavern's patrons, "So I always hate having to call in folks' tabs. Sadly enough, the men with the most problems to drink away usually have the least money to do so.
"Obviously, I don't just let everyone drink for free, but I do let some slide. That often means I need to rely on...well, nevermind. I don't want to bother you with my business."
Tock cuts his diatribe short. Long-time locals like Randu, Flint, and Krogge can suspect the truth that he stops himself from spilling. It has always been rumored that Kreed subsidizes Tock's ownership of the Duck as a way to keep the loggers docile, if not happy. Considering the similar rumors about the role the Gavel also played in setting up Tock as the owner of the tavern, such stories are not hard to believe.
.....
The rest of the day passes smoothly as everyone attends to their various business. However, come nightfall, a noticeable stir passes along the streets of Falcon's Hollow. Word spreads that Gavel Kreed is marching down from his manor to make an announcement - and it's something bigger than just the monthly market lottery.
Krogge will enjoy a round with the men at Tock's before heading back to Jaks to begin working on some axe handles out of the Darkwood. He didn't have any special tools for the job, but the dagger he has works just fine for him.
[ooc]Take 10 on craft= 10+4-2(no tools)=12=2gold worths work on an axe handle.
once he gets work that Gavel incoming he will clean up his things and find Jack if he is nearby.
"Obviously, I don't just let everyone drink for free, but I do let some slide. That often means I need to rely on...well, nevermind. I don't want to bother you with my business."
Randu nods "When one is forced to live in an illtended graveyard, one sometimes has to step aside for vultures." Sympathy from the halflingHe's warning us of a lot of things here. Hope the others aren't too free with information.
He slides two of his 8 gold coin back to the man, "Here, if you don't mind, put that on my tab...or whatever." Am I showing a bit of charity, or trying to buy at least a little silence? Desna forgive me I don't know.
………
When he resumes his life, Randu ends up cooking, trying to make amends for that less than stellar job, and focusing on helping at the Herbalist shop. Some may comment on how that owl that's so fond of him has been closer than usual, but he points out it keeps the mice population down "Better than three cats"
THus far, he's kept his witching nature to himself..mostly. But sage whispers to him, advises- and more- his own nature makes him tempted to give the evil eye to Kreed Loyalists. It makes him wonder if he could humble a foremen if he made them fall asleep on the job? Perhaps...
but for now he forebears.
He does decide to seek out this PULK fellow. That's not going to go away with a single moment of shaming.
"He's taken to working the night shift," a recovering Ben Fulgore tells you. He uses a sturdy, crooked branch as a crutch to make up for his bandaged stump. "Milon was telling me that. He said Pulk's trying to keep away from folks these days. We were talking about the mill 'cause I was thinking about givin' up logging to work the mill. I thought it would be safer. Milon just shook his head."
After completing your work at the camp, followed by helping Laurel at Roots and Remedies, you find enough energy left to walk down to the riverside and seek out Pulk in the sawmill.
The sawmill, along with its accompanying cutyard, is the loud, ever-pumping heart of Falcon's Hollow. The ever-present sawdust that cloaks the town originates here, spewed out by the waterwheel-driven saws and grinding lathes. The grinding sounds never cease, as day and night crews keep the mill running around the clock.
You find the interior cramped and dark with the growing shadows of the waning afternoon. A single, beaten lantern hangs from a ceiling beam, but it is currently unlit. You've never found cause to visit the sawmill before, and what you find inside vindicates your avoidance. These dismal, dangerous conditions are somehow even worse than what you're used to seeing in the logging camps. Milon's warning to Ben makes all the more sense, as you well suspect that maimings and death are all too common when working the mill.
Taking the 8 coins the humble feline thanked the generous nature of the owner of the bar and casually tried to slide of the coins to Krogge's pile, 2 of the coins to Flint's pile and two to Randus, keeping only the two to himself. He was clearly not as slick as he had intended to be.
Entirely interested in even the smallest detail the inquisitive feline Began to chat up the owner, asking him about his pricing of shipping in brews, the sorts of wages paid to workers there (assuming there are workers) building repair costs and ..if he ever thought about staging plays there or the like.
And speaking of plays... he began to work on one while drinking several beverages his ears flickering as he listened...eavesdropped really on the workers. It was going to be a fine play, one with morales about the evils of capitalism taking advantage of the poor and disenfranchised.
As nighttime rolled around he found himself in decent spirits, rather pleased with how the first act was shaping up. It was by no means Fonzenbra's Ilserto but he didnt think it was half bad.He was even trying to incoperpate a blue bird into the production somehow, when word hit his ear about this Kreed fellow marching about to make some sort of announcement...He had a feeling this wouldnt be good. His eyes tried to seek out Jack. No doubt that fellow was bound to get into some form of trouble.
Flint graciously accepts the coins that come his way with many polite bows and nods of the head, accepting the coins with both hands as he was taught was proper.
He feels a bit bad accepting what he feels like charity to a point, but knows this is the most coin he's seen in far too long. He pockets the amount with intention to spot the group and maybe patronize the place a but more later.
Flint goes about his day doing his usual job of climbing trees and felling branches and obstacles, trying to kill any squirrels or game birds that might come his way in the boughs to supply for Randu that night.
Prof Lumberjack
Survival
When it comes time for the gavel to make his announcement, Flint is present amongst the crowd in that surprisingly unassuming way he can be with his erveryman straw hat tipped low.
Krogge left Tock's establishment with a good feeling, his belly was full and his thoughts were light. As he went to count out his coins to find out just how many he had, he was surprised to see a few more than he expected. Did I forget to pay for that round I promised? oh well, maybe I can afford some decent crafting tools now? he thought naively.
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As the others disperse to their separate jobs, Sweet Pea suddenly remembers a friend she met on her first day in town. Was it only yesterday, or the day before? So much has happened! I told him I'd be right back! What was his name again?
She flits about the village, hopping from rooftop to rooftop, looking for the boy she met before.
You first encountered the smell when you found that poor deer. It's insides were all over the ground. Your friend, the druid, explained that wolves had hunted the deer for food, and that was when he taught you about nature's cycles of life and death. "Survival" was the word he used that stuck out in your mind. On a deep level, you understood the need for it, but the sight of the mangled deer - and especially the smell of blood - never sat well with you.
Although you do your best to try and put aside such unpleasant memories from your young life, it creeps back if only for an instant when you are struck by the scent of blood that cloaks the house.
You find the boy, Mikra, on the second story of the building. Pressing your face against the window, you find him sitting cross-legged on the floor with a look of rapt attention on his face. He stares up at another boy - shorter, though with a more rounded face - who sits in a chair and reads to Mikra from a book, much like the old druid would read to you from the one or two books he had. Even if it was the same stories over and over again, you never tired of them. You can recognize that same feeling in Mikra's face right now.
It is hard to find Pulk, a man you do not recognize, among the dour faces. However, on the far end of the building, where the mill opens upon the river and logs float down from upstream, you see Sage fly down and alight upon a railing. The owl sits near a man with stooped shoulders who struggles to haul logs out of the water and feed them into the saw.
You suspect your familiar is directing you to Pulk.
Thuldrin Kreed marches down Worship Way, taking the long route through town from his manor, accompanied by a cadre of his bodyguards and toadies - two of them bearing lanterns on poles. As they tromp through the dusk-darkening road, they inevitably attract many curious eyes. As the crowd following the Gavel grows, it becomes obvious that Kreed is trying to garner as much attention as possible.
The procession reaches the Low Market, and by the time Kreed climbs the shallow stairs to the Tribunal's porch, it seems as though half the town is gathering to hear what he has to say. Flanked by his lantern bearers, Kreed does affect an air of grave importance.
Magistrate Harg emerges from the Tribunal office and stands, almost hiding, behind Kreed and his men. Kreed pauses to let the crowd grow further. Once he judges that enough people will hear, he finally speaks.
"People of Falcon's Hallow! My fellow Valers!" he booms, raising his hands. "The time is upon us for change! We have endured many challenges: murderous druids, hungry beasts, and the ever malevolent fey. However, if our way of life is to survive, a new direction is needed. New leadership.
"Therefore," he intones with a raised finger for emphasis, "I believe the time has come to elect our town's first-ever mayor!"
The announcement elicits a variety of responses from the crowd. Many are surprised. Some seem skeptical. However, a good deal of heads nod and murmur in agreement.
"Obviously, this move may come as a surprise," Kreed continues, "but to finally stamp out these dangers, we need someone with a right, sharp head about them. And I don't think there's a man in town with a better reckoning of the laws to bind us together and lead us forward than our good man, our very own magistrate, Vamros Harg."
The Gavel practically drags the halfling forward before the crowd, twisting his small arm. Harg looks terrified to be put on display like a trophy. However, steely glares from Kreed and his men keep the crowd from chortling at the proposition.
Sweet Pea watches at the window, not wanting to interrupt. If she's noticed, she will wave cheerfully.
Satisfied, and perhaps feeling a tad sorry for the tavern owner, before the Blue Corvus leaves, he pauses at the counter and drops a small pouch with about 15 gold coins inside. "If what you say is true, put that to good use... and know that the night wind is always listening..."
On that note, he leaves just as quickly as he arrived, disappearing quietly into the alleys between buildings, heading back to Jak-o-Napes to get out of his costume.
"At last! The elusive Mr. Kreed!"
Jack's voice pipes up from the back of the crowd, before slipping forward to approach the Gavel, stopping a safe number of yards short and planting his cane into the ground. "I must say, you are harder to find than a bottle of Taldan Bliss in this town. Jack Callahan, First Son of House Callahan, and Financial Representative of The People's Council. And I must say, I agree wholeheartedly with your assessment! Not only for the safety of the Vale's citizens, but to help put a bit of organizational backbone into the Consortium's operations in this region because, quite bluntly, I would bill this as high comedy back in the capital."
He stamped his cane into the ground, glancing down at Vamros before turning his attention back to Kreed. "But I fear I must challenge your claim on Mr. Harg's behalf. Not that I doubt his talents, I would not be so bold! But there is indeed another in town who could absolutely negotiate the law as capably as Mr. Harg." he brushed his sleeves, before smiling and placing both hands on his cane.
"Myself. I believe I am all too capable of carrying out the job as mayor of Falcon's Hollow."
With a all together predictible sigh, the dark furred feline monk loosely followed Jack to the forefront, he was going to get himself killed at this rate, but he had agreed to guard him so it was indeed what it was.
Nonchelauntly he unsheathed his claw and inspected them in the lowlight doing his best to look unperterbed though his tail was lashing back and forth in annoyance. Inpspection done, he ran his eyes over the louts of this Kreed fellow assessing threat levels.
Krogge had followed Jack and Rrruh down to the Low Market and listened to Kreed while Jack and Rrruh made their way to the front of the crowd. it wasnt until after Jack had said anything that it occurred to him to follow. Still not sure what exactly my work for Fancy Jack entails...Better stay close to him before he gets hisself killed. he thinks while he marches up to stand behind Jack and next to Rrruh.
Mikra turns to look, but he offers a smile as he recognizes you. He stands up and walks over, opening the window for you.
"Hello," he says pleasantly.
"Even if anyone was willing to listen, ain't nothing to tell. I ain't killed nobody."
You get the sense that he doesn't really believe what he's saying. Pulk is tired and afraid, putting on the last of his gruff courage as a mask.
.....
Kreed glowers at Jack as he approaches the Tribunal steps, and his ire does not soften any as Rrruh and Krogge stand beside him. His men tighten ranks, drawing closer to their boss. They look ready to draw weapons, but Kreed offers them a quick shake of his head.
"I'd heard tell that we had a fancy lad visiting from down south," he calls in a thick voice that blends gregariousness and condescension into a toxic gruel. "I couldn't meet with you sooner because, as you were gallivanting through town, I was busy keeping everyone's business running.
"What makes you think you can lay claim to being mayor? You aren't from around here. These aren't your people. You don't put in the work in a year that we do in a single day. I bet if we examined your hands, they'd be softer than doe-skin."
He closes the taunt with a low chuckle that catches among his coterie. It is all too obvious that he is trying to intimidate Jack away from entering the running. However, Jack's familiarity with Andoren law ensures him that residency in the town is not a requirement for holding office.
"Hi! Sorry I didn't come back yesterday, I got distracted by making medicine and fighting a tazzyworm and this sour red stuff and I met a Bird Guy! Whatcha doing, reading stories? What's that smell? Who's your friend? Hi, friend, I'm a Sweet Pea, who are you?" She holds out a hand to the other boy with a friendly smile.
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Jack stood for a bit, both hands on his cane, before sighing and tilting his head and popping his neck light.
Kreed just woke the sleeping giant.
"Where shall I begin..? I suppose with the hands. I was unaware you needed rough hands to work with papers. Since we're comparing, perhaps we should have Mr. Harg present his hands and see how coarse they are?"
"Secondly, under The People's Dictatorial, article 3, section 2, subsection A, and I quote, 'No citizen shall be bared from entry into governmental office based upon his monetary standing, ethnicity, gender, nor similar uncontrollable personal circumstances.' The fact I am not from Falcon's Hollow does not disqualify me from applying for the position of its mayor. Also under the same law, you are not granted the power to personally elect a member of the town to its position. Such is the right of the People."
"Thirdly, your governance of the town leaves me questioning your capability to do so. In the brief time I have spent here, I have already had to quell a riot - caused by your employees, by the by - and locate capable hands to help remove a threat to Consortium employees that you failed to address. If there is any doubt about my interest in the people of this town, let my actions renounce those suspicions. Meanwhile, YOU, Mr. Kreed, have failed to prevent the activities of a single law-snubbing troublemaker who calls himself the Blue Corvus about town. Incompetence that, you can be sure, I will be filing in my report to the People's Council."
"Lastly, Mr. Kreed, much as I find it humorous, Andoran operates on a free electoral process. One man, one voice. If you believe Mr. Harg a more capable hand than I at holding a mayoral position, then let the people of Falcon's Hollow make that decision. And... might I say, with these scandalous whispers of personal corruption swirling about you, I would strongly advise that, to save face, you avoid thrusting yourself into the center stage like this." He narrows his gaze on Kreed at that last bit - it was less a suggestion, and more of a veiled warning.
Stamping his cane into the ground, Jack looked about at the assembled crowd of citizens and nodded. "Any further questions are most assuredly welcome. My chief interest is ensuring the prosperity of the town. Were it not, I most certainly would not be looking to attain this position." Jack turned back to Kreed, looking at obliviously defiant as possible. It was time the town got someone who wasn't under Kreed's thumb in charge... best to make it look like he wasn't afraid.
Krogge listened to Kreeds and Jack's exchange intently, his neck craning back and forth between them. He had never actually met Kreed personally, and doubt Kreed even knew of his existence, but he knew him by reputation and could already begin to see that a newcomer like Fancy Jack would be worlds better for the Vale compared to Kreed.
"Jack is right people of Falcon's Hollow, If your gonna be governed, shouldn't it be by someone with experience and not someone who employs half the town or more?" he says loudly doing his best to help Fancy Jack seem agreeable.
"I didn't mean to do it," he says with eyes cast down upon the pile of logs, as though they had more value than his own life. "I can't even remember much of that night. A bunch of us were leaving the Duck and walking down Worship Way. I think Orvis suggested visiting the Cayden shrine. I don't know.
"Along the way, we ran into the church-folk. They started berating us, then fists started to fly. I saw Jeb come at me. I thought he was going for his knife, so I pulled mine, and well..."
Pulk buries his face in his hands. In the dim light, you can see many cuts and bruises on his calloused hands from working the mill.
"I was drunk. I was afraid, and I...I guess none of that matters," he says, looking up. "I did it. If the church-folk don't lynch me, then the sheriff'll probably have me hang."
"Yeah. Jurin comes over for story time. What's this book called, Jurin?"
The other child stands and sheepishly introduces himself.
"Hello, I'm Jurin," he reiterates. "Mikra can't read, so...so I'll usually stop by in the afternoons to read to him." He looks over your shoulder to Mikra. "It's called, um, Fables of the Forest. I think I've read these stories to him like ten times. Then again, my father doesn't keep many good books around the manor."
Kreed scowls at Jack and company, even as your words seem to gain traction among the crowd. However, perhaps more so than the actual rhetorical weight of what Jack and Krogge say, the fact that they are willing to stand up to Kreed and his men - out in the open, no less - builds up the value of your cause in the eyes of Falcon's Hollow.
Kreed steps closer to Jack, ensuring that his taller height and more imposing frame is in clear contrast to the foppish man from Almas.
"You're right, good sir," he says with a predatory grin. "We'll let the people decide. I have always trusted Falcon's Hollow to make the...right decisions."
He turns his eye to the crowd with a wave of his hand as he says this.
"We'll hold this election in one week's time," he announces gravely. "Then we'll see what the good Valers value most."