Vosil ignores Gav completely: from the moment Dregan aimed at the scarecrow, words are no use any more. Drawing his whip, he lashes at Dregan, taking the bow from out of his hands.
"Goodman, behave yourself. She has magic - so what? So does Nara; and so does Talia. It means nothing. Now don't make me angry. That goes for you, too, Gav. Either help out here, or stay out my way."
Vosil is shorter than both Gavriil and Dregan, barely much higher than Talia; but for all that, he can be menacing when he chooses. The civilised, urbane smile just falls right off his face.
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Edric makes it through the door, just enough for Taalia and the old woman to begin their conversation before all hell breaks loose in the garden behind him. He swiftly opens the door, steps into the doorway and plants himself firmly between the doorposts, hoping desperately that this does not presage a general conflict.
They'll turn on you, you know! They always do! You can't trust them, anyone! Turn on them first, it's the only way! Edric grits his teeth against the voice, the seductive nails-on-chalkboard-grating voice that he has never quite silenced.
"No! I will not turn on them! They are my friends, they helped me! " The last part is an unintentional roar.
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The Old Beldame watches with a wry grin at the commotion on her stoop. "Men." She sighs, then she waves her hand and the door closes behind the paladin, the latch snapping to. Leaving only her and Talia inside. "Maybe it's best we talk alone, deary." She says quietly.
She struggles to her feet, aching bones creaking as she lifts herself from her little stool. The old witch fetches two brownish clay bowls from a shelf and hands one to Talia. Then she turns and begins stirring the cauldron. The hearty aroma of a earthy stew fills the small interior of the hut. She scoops a steaming ladleful into her bowl, then Talia's. "Please. Eat." The Old Beldame says, sipping at her bowl. "I may be a witch in the swamp, but I eat well."
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A long beat passes as Talia strains to hear what is going on outside, the noble's hand twitching near Worgslayer's hilt. When a few moments pass without the sounds of weapons being drawn, screaming, arrows being loosed, explosions, chanting creatures clawing their way from the earth or sky, or whatever sounds a living scarecrow would make, Talia exhales. She can feel her face heated and flushed, with both embarrassment and anger.
"My apologies, Belledame. I'm afraid our huntsman is a superstitious sort." Taking the bowl, Talia hesitates just a second before lifting a spoonful of stew to her mouth, and chewing thoughtfully.
"And he's not so different in that way than most of our people. May I be blunt? There's rumors about you, Belledame; that you kidnap children..." Talia's eyes drift down to her bowl of stew. "And put them in your cookpot. I must ask - and know that I am a keen judge of character - do you wish any harm upon my people?"
"You're quite the cook, by the way."
Taking another bite of stew, Talia hopes fervently that she's chewing on wild boar.
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The Old Beldame cackles gleefully. "Don't worry, dearie, it's squirrel. And yes, I've heard the rumors. I don't care, really, but that's why I live alone. And I keep Percival out there to keep away unwanted visitors."
A few moments pass while she eats her stew. "As far as 'your' people are concerned, what can I say? She says the last with emphasis, to make sure it carries through the windows. Then she cackles again. "You will have your hands full on your own with this land, dearie. You won't have to worry about one old witch in the swamp."
Having finished her stew, she stands up again, and walks unsteadily to drop her bowl into a tub with other dishes.
"But I can help you, if you wish. For a price, of course."
Dregan looks at Vosil in disbelief for a moment before chasing after his bow. "Are f@*+ing crazy, attacking a companion during a potentially hostile situation. No wonder you got exiled to go help rural idiots like me." While shouting he make no hostile moves towards anyone. "You know you've let her get Talia alone. You all seem convinced she'll okay I guess you don't need me anymore." Dregan says more calmly and turns to leave to go back into the swamp. Once out of the gate he'll stop and watch.
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Talia smiles, enjoying the old witch's wit. "Percival, eh? How does a scarecrow come across a name like that?" Raising her eyebrow, Talia continues, "Help? How? And what's the price? Concord's children are off the table."
And the world tilts out of order, Gavriil thinks.
In a blur of motion all hell breaks loose. Vosil flips his whip out at Dregan, snatching the huntsman's bow away and whips it around his head, menacing both Gavriil and Dregan. Edric slowly starts flipping out, screaming at... well, Gavriil's not quite sure. The world seems to be moving so slow that Gavriil can see all the little details: the lines on Vosil's face as it twists into a snarl, the fear and pain in Edric's eyes, and, most horrifying of all, the wry smile of Belledame as the door swings closed.
At the same time, though, it moves incredibly too fast for him to even do anything. He makes a move towards the door, but reaches it just in time for it to slam in his face over Edric's shoulder. He turns to Vosil and Dregan with a panic in his eyes only to find them still focused on each other. They wouldn't be any help and he didn't want their help at this point. They could wrestle like pigs in the mud under the watchful gaze of the scarecrow if they wanted.
It's then that his focus shifts to Edric. Gavriil gently grabs the paladin by the shoulders and looks into his eyes saying in a voice as calm as he can make it, "Edric? Edric, it's ok. It's ok, Edric. No one is hurting you. I'm here, Edric. Don't listen to your demons, I'm here and I'm not leaving you. I'm your friend, Edric."
He turns from Edric for a moment to plead to the only sane one left, "Nara, I need your help, please. Can you get Nora up against the door and listen through her ears? We need to know what's going on in that room before we try and break in there."
He continues to try and clam Edric down as he tries not to let the situation to send him over the edge. Come on, Talia. If ever there was a time to turn on your beautiful charm, now would be the time.
Vosil cocks an eyebrow at Dregan. "No, you superstitious, dung-brained, mouth-breathing, PEASANT - the only person making the situation 'hostile' is you, going on a shooting spree during delicate negotiations! And if I have to take your bow off you to prevent that, then yes: I will do so every day of the week and twice on Sundays."
Barred from the negotiations by the door closing, he shakes his head. "Talia has this. I'm going back to check on the horses. At least they have a lick of sense."
He has some oatcakes in his saddlebags; and a little honey, the first of the year. It cost dearly, but it's delicious.
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It's then that his focus shifts to Edric. Gavriil gently grabs the paladin by the shoulders and looks into his eyes saying in a voice as calm as he can make it, "Edric? Edric, it's ok. It's ok, Edric. No one is hurting you. I'm here, Edric. Don't listen to your demons, I'm here and I'm not leaving you. I'm your friend, Edric."
He turns from Edric for a moment to plead to the only sane one left, "Nara, I need your help, please. Can you get Nora up against the door and listen through her ears? We need to know what's going on in that room before we try and break in there."
He continues to try and calm Edric down as he tries not to let the situation to send him over the edge. Come on, Talia. If ever there was a time to turn on your beautiful charm, now would be the time.
Under the effect of Gavrill's calm voice the terror and anger gradually drains out of Edric's eyes, replaced by the confused look that often follows one of his attacks. "I'm sorry Gav. I thought I had them under control at last..." He looks around, seeing Dregan and Vosil stalking off in different directions and sighs heavily. Stooping to pick up Dregans bow before it gets damaged he seems a lot older than his years. "I guess now we wait then. I'm sure Taalia can deal with the situation by herself." Slumping on the step Edric holds Dregan's bow and stares off into space. "Thanks Gav, I don't know if I could have held on without you..."
"Gentlemen!" Naralesh hisses. "Comport yourselves with respect. This woman has done nothing to draw our ire, and neither rumors nor superstition should inspire this suspicion from our nation's ruling council." He looks over towards the hut. "I trust Talia's judgment and if she needs our aid, she will call for us. I suggest we wait here, patiently and quietly, for Talia to conclude her meeting." He looks over towards Dregan, storming out into the swamp, and sighs. I should speak with him later. Now is perhaps not the time.
Meanwhile, unbidden by her master, a particular snow-white fox clambers up onto the windowsill, driven by curiosity. She is fixated on the crow perched on Old Beldame's arm - the two humans in the room seem unimportant, busy with their own human matters, but in that crow she sees a connection - a being like herself, alive but filled with another's soul. She yips to get its attention as she hops into the room, ears perked up and tail shaking playfully.
The awful grin of the scarecrow's pumpkin face turns to and fro watching the comings and goings of Fairhaven's Privy Council. But if it cares, it does not show it.
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The Old Beldame cackles at Talia's joke. "Why Percival? Why not? Seems like a good name. As far as the price, don't worry so much dearie. Although from the sounds of it, I wouldn't have to go any farther than my front door to find Concord's children." She cackles again. The old woman ladles herself another helping of stew from the bubbling cauldron.
"South of here, there is a bubbling hole of mud. Filled with noxious gas and fungus, the mudhole is home to a certain type of mushroom - the black rattlecap. I will tell you what I know of the surrounding area, if you promise to bring me a bushel or two of those mushrooms."
Just then a soft yip from the window draws her attention. A small white fox sits on the sill, paying rapt attention to the crow on the old woman's arm. "What have we here?" The Old Beldame says with a crooked smile. "Come here, pretty." Nora slips down and leaps into her lap, curling up as she scratches behind his ears. The crow squawks with annoyance. "Oh be quiet, Francis. So, dearie, do we have a deal?"
Talia nods and smiles, pleased that the negotiations have gone so smoothly. Information for mushrooms? Swamp-women were weird. Anyways...
"A deal. What do you know of the area?"
"Oh, this and that," the old woman says with a grin, "for example west of here lives an old hermit. Crazy as a loon. He lives in a hollow old oak, and he is dangerous dearie, as dangerous as they come!"
She shuffles around to a dilapidated cabinet, opening a dusty drawer. From the drawer she pulls out a small jar. She produces a few dried mushrooms from the jar, popping them into her mouth.
"South by southwest of the mad hermit lies another challenge, the lizard king's camp. The lizard people have been trouble of late, and if any of your children are missing, it's most likely from them."
"Lastly, the lake. No, not the Tuskwater where you've built your city, but just south west of that, beyond the lizards, lies the Candlemere. There's an old ruined tower on an island in the middle of the Candlemere. Late at night, one can see tiny lights flitting about the island. But those are no mere lights, dearie. No. Those lights seek the fear and sorrow of human souls! Ah-hee-hee-hee-hee! Stay away if you know what's good for you!"
The Old Beldame chews on another few mushrooms. "All of this socializing has made me tired, dearie. I'd go to your 'friends' now. Come back again if you need anything!"
Standing, Talia gives the Old Belledame a curtsy. "Thank you, Belledame. We'll return with your mushrooms. Speaking of... I've heard of fungi that allow the imbiber to see things wondrous and not of this world. Are you about to go on a journey?"
Sighing as her wet boots squeak across the floor - she really was hoping for a warm fire and roof over head this evening - Talia turns, her hand on the witch's door. "Oh, one more thing. You mentioned these lizard people have seen trouble of late. What kind of trouble?"
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Outside, Talia nods to the scarecrow as she descends the steps. "Percival. Good day."
Untying Apple, the Viscountess fills the others in on the Belledame's knowledge, before mounting up and looking to the others, her gaze lingering on the suspicious woodsman. "Where to next?"
Dregan is very relieved to Talia emerge from the hut and forgetting everything that had just happen rushes up to her. He obviously intending to give her a hug but at the last moment hesitates "I thought you were a goner."
After hearing her story he replies "Well the first job is to find somewhere dry enough to make camp. After that we had planned to keep heading west but if you wanted to change we could head off to the hermit, lizards, mushrooms or ruined towers. Black rattlecap mushrooms she said?"
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Edric just smiles quietly when Taalia emerges. He seems very shaken by the near fight between the group and has little to contribute to the general discussion, simply offering his opinion.
"It seems to me that the Lizard King is the most pressing matter - if they are the only active threat then they are the ones we should speak to. Diplomacy or do I need to summon the army?"
"Oh, he fancies himself some kind of 'great power' dearie. Delusional really. Now go, the only trip I am going on is into dreamland."
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Percival says nothing, but the pumpkin head turns silently to watch Talia leave. When all have left the confines of the fenced area, Percival turns to watch the gate.
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Talia shrugs. "They've not been a problem for our people, as far as I know. Let's head west, as we originally planned, and scout out the immediate area."
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Gavriil remains oddly silent once Talia emerges from the hut, allowing her to take the lead and refusing to just jump in. The fight was pointless and childish, with Gavriil upset with both parties. Dregan, for losing his wits and just attacking out of nowhere. Vosil, for attacking other council members both physically and verbally. What he wouldn't do to have a peek inside Talia's brain to see her take on the whole thing.
After their viscountess shared what she learned with all of them, Gavriil nods along with her. "You're the boss. We can look into the other things once we've scouted out what we actually came here to scout."
He hops in the saddle of his horse and waits for the others to head out.
31 Pharast 4708
The sound of unintelligible cursing echoes through the woods. Just visible through the trees, a small wagon sits mired in the middle of a swiftly flowing river as the waters threaten to overwhelm its sides. Two ponies hitched to the wagon flounder in the swirling waters, close to panicking. Two more wagons sit safely on the far bank.
On a small hillock next to the river, this gnome stands shouting. "Pull that wagon back! Tie those ponies together there! #%@$ it, push them through! Push them through!"
Dregan takes the lead again as they arrive on the wagon scene he quick glances around, "I'll go help get that wagon moving but someone might want to talk to the gnome it looks like hes been in a pretty bad fight."
He rides to towards the stream and swings off his saddle into the water going to the pony he tries to calm them and urge them on.
Vosil nods, leaving the diplomacy to those who are good at it: now is the time for action. He urges his horse into the water, and helps Dregan with the panicked ponies.
He lacks the woodsman's almost-mystical affinity with creatures, but his experience stands him in good stead. Between the two of them, they should be able to make this work. While they do so, Vosil tries to think of any rumours he's heard regarding a gnomish wagon in the area. A Spymaster tries to stay ahead of the news.
Once it is clear you aren't bandits, the other gnomes wave and call out for for help. The leader ignores Edric and continues cursing and calling out conflicting orders.
Dregan and Vosil get the ponies calmed down, but it's clear that they will not be able to pull the wagon out in their current state. They will have be unhitched and led to shore. Then the wagon have to be pushed out. Further complicating matters is the fact that the water is forcing the upstream edge of the wagon downward, and in 30 seconds or so it will be swept away and everything lost.
Vosil shakes his head as he wrestles with the harnesses. "Hopeless. These ponies will never get the wagon out. I'll lead them to shore, Dregan, if you stay here. Tie my horse to the wagon and I'll get him to pull once I've got him to dry land."
Raising his voice, he calls out to the shouting gnome. "Master Nathropple, I believe? I am delighted to have met with you, I believe we have much to discuss. But not right now. We can save this wagon, but we need people to PUSH. Care to lend us a hand?"
"And yes, Gav, that DOES include you..."
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Gavriil watches as everyone else springs into action. Always so quick to get their hands dirty. Always so quick to jump into the mud that they've worked so hard to rise up out of. It wasn't that he was against helping the people and getting his hands dirty, but that he didn't see how he could be much help. He wasn't made to shove wagons out of rivers. His skills fell directly under the ale drinking, or womanizing categories, or maybe even a little under swindling.
But feats of athleticism were never one of his strong suits. Heck, even his weapon of choice, the rapier, was more about finesse and taking the target out with precision rather than strong arming through armor. So when Vosil points him out to help, Gavriil grabs the reins out of the man's hands and says, "Funny, but I can't swim. I'll hold the pony's. You get in there and give them a hand. There's enough of you between us and the gnomes to get it moving and I'll just be in the way." He hands Vosil a length of rope and says, "Attach this to the wagon and maybe we can help pull it out from land while you push."
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Vosil gives a rueful chuckle as the Scoundrel of the Greenbelt fends him off without even trying. Using the wagon and all the sound as cover for their conversation, he jerks his head towards the gnome. "I'm reasonably sure that is Jubilost Narthropple, of Narthropple's Expeditions. An eccentric explorer of some renown. He is known throughout the Stolen Lands for his successful mapping of the lands about. He does sell his maps, but not cheaply. His knowledge of the area would be invaluable, to say the least."
He looks at Gavriil, waiting for the penny to drop: If he has mapped the area, we won't have to... which means less time trudging through wilderness and more time in the tavern!
He nods. "Charm him into giving us his maps, Gav. Please."
"Get in there and heave, you sons of redcap ^$%#!! Heave damn you!!" Jubilost yells, following with a string of obscenities that makes even Gavriil turn his head.
The wagon begins edging its way towards the near far shore where the other two wagons wait, having already made the crossing.
Then the whole effort gets hung up in an eddy.
The wagon, stuck in the mud, begins to tip...
With a final heave, you and the gnomes force the wagon out of the mud and the water on to the shore! Several of the gnomes stand up from where they fell in during the final push, and all give you a hearty cheer!
"Well I'll be damned." Jubilost mumbles. "Didn't think they had it in them." Then he trudges off down the hillock and guides his horse through the water to the far bank. Some of the gnomes there begin to check the baggage, while others set up camp. They invite you to dinner that evening, ignoring Jubilost's orders to keeping moving.
31 Pharast 4708, late in the evening.
The stars are out in force as you sit by the river in the camp of Narthropple Expedition. The gnomes ply you with question while their leader keeps a wet compress on his bruised and battered face.
Talia knew how to swim of course. But, the difference between knowing how to swim and enjoying the act were quite different, in a land where even a late summer swim was guaranteed to be a shockingly cold experience. Even changed into a fresh set of explorer's clothes, even huddled around a fire hours later, Talia feels chilled. Still, it was nice to have company, and gnomes were such a curious peoples.
"Edric is our General, but he's got many other talents. You'll feel right as rain soon enough, Master Narlthropple. And I would like to hear about this afternoon as well."
"We've done a fair bit of exploration and mapping of the Greenbelt, though I must admit, I don't love the work. Tell me, have you always been bitten by the desire to see the world's wild and untamed places?"
Vosil finds time to share the information on Narthropple with the others (although perhaps not with quite the same spin that he imparted to Gav).
Other than that, he enjoys the drinks that the grateful gnomes ply him with, and sits back, with his ears open.
The story goes that the expedition was attacked by kobolds just as they were crossing the river. Jubilost and the team held them off, but one team panicked.
"You all came up just as the kobolds fled." one of the gnomes says. "And thank the gods you did, else we'd have lost the supplies!"
Jubilost maintains a level of grumpiness despite grunting a grudging thanks to Edric. " S'what I do, Miss. Narthropple's Expeditions? That's me, Jubilost Narthropple. I explore, I map." He takes a long drag from a leather flask. "Why are you here abouts?"
"Oh so you are an explorer? We came across another explorer a while back but we were too late to help him. Maybe you know him. You see we don't know who he was so we haven't been able to let his relatives know what happened. I have a map he made, maybe that will help. Be right back." Dregan goes to one of the packs and bring back the map of the dead explorer and hands it to the gnome.
Watching Dregan return with the map, Talia smiles. She'd forgotten all about that poor dead man they found months ago, but the woodsman, of course, had still been carrying the map, no doubt with the aim of finding the man's family. And that purity of purpose was what made Dregan so valuable to the Viscounty.
"Most map makers are also map collectors. Perhaps you know the explorer whose map Dregan carries? Regardless, if we make a copy, you can have the map - for one of yours, of course."
"We are explorers as well. We're mapping and scouting the surrounding area - for the benefit of Fairhaven."
Jubilost examines the map Dregan gave him. "Hrmmph. Amateur. But still it's of an area that I haven't been to yet. Anything you can add to it?"
"The mines, and the tree? Why the tree? Oh...like a giant claw eh? That would be quite the landmark. The barrow I knew about, same as the fangberries and the old river crossing...tell you what. I can trade you one for one on these maps of mine. Should save you some time and keep you out of trouble. You need anything else, the maps will cost you 500 gold each. I have some that cover the lands further south."
He pulls a parchment map out of a worn leather case. The eccentric gnome hands it to Talia and replaces it with the map you gave him. "Here you go. Good luck."
Talia hands the map to Dregan, while giving the gnome a slight bow of thanks. "Thank you, Master Narlthropple. If you're ever in Concord, please pay us a visit. And you'd do well to get acquainted with Goodman Hirsherz here. He's seen much of the Greenbelt, and is a fine scout and woodsman. Allow me to take my leave; the night is a bit chilled, and I'd like to be closer to the fire."
Vosil has more or less dried out by the time they're ready to move on. "That went well, I thought; at least we know some of what to expect in this region: valuable trees..."
Gavriil hops on his horse to continue their exploration, wondering why they even have to check the next area since it's already been mapped for them...