"One minute, gents...this cloak has a magical aura." 'Hmmm - linked to the skeletons? Necromancy, perhaps? Or conjuration?' He continues to mutter as he concentrates on the black cloak, sensing things Khalbar and Xogar can only guess at...
It is a Robe of Bones with no patches left on it.
After Rhanloi explains what the cloak is (assuming he does so...), Khalbar scratches his chin. "Someone left cloak. Brings undead. And ancient holy man body missing? Who want old bones but evi shaman? This very bad!" He makes the evil eye sign once again, and wants nothing to do with that magic robe, preferring to not stand near it either.
After finding the enchanted cloak in the tomb, and the missing priest's body, the three adventurers emerge back out of the crypt to give Father Zantus the bad news. He's shocked and surprised, but has no guesses about why anyone would do such a thing. He does, however, redouble his desire to get to the bottom of the goblin attack, because during the attack is when this must have happened and he's sure they're connected in some way, and he asks you to do the same.
Rhanloi, Xogar, and Khalbar return to the Rusty Dragon in the mid-afternoon, to find it slowly filling up with people that either don't work or get off work early, as well as four of their earlier compatriots.
Khalbar lumbers into the Dragon. The burden of the undead encounter and the stolen body of the priest weighing on him. He seeks out A'letta for a discussion.
He goes on to explain about the skeletons and Father Tobyn.
Upon returning to the Dragon Xogar nods to each of those who he participated with in the defense of the attack.
He orders a mild ale and something light to snack on.
A'letta looks at Khalbar, but he can see that she's lost in thoughts. A good ten seconds later she softly answers, in common,"Perhaps they need the powers of certain ancestors? I must admit, the dead and necromancy are not things I know a lot of, but I do not see how one pair of bones is better than the other unless some .. latent power resided in them, even after death. I think Rhanloi might know more or be able to point at books that know more?"
Loruk shares the information he gathered once everyone is back at the Dragon, letting everyone know what he has seen.
"..and that is why I think this town is in far more danger than I thought. We need to figure who this mysterious humanoid is, as well."
Rhanloi thought about what they discovered. As they briefed the head cleric, and on the way back to the Dragon, the few facts they had discovered buzzed around in his head like fruit flies. Once he arrived at the inn he retrieves a book or two from his pack, brings them down to the common area where his colleagues are gathered, orders some bread and a bottle of wine, and sits in a corner to study. "Why did they take the body? How did the priest die, again? In a fire, I believe...what caused the fire? Why are goblins attacking a town? Are these incidents related? If the goblin attack was a cover for the theft of the body, it must be very important..." Rhanloi is muttering to himself as he flips through the pages of his books, reading here and there. He is also vaguely listening to the converstions around him - in case something relevent comes up!
As he eats, Xogar mulls over the significance of the missing body.
"What was the meaning of the priest's body not being there? Is he an undead? Or did someone just steal his body away? This gets more and more complicated by the hour."
The noise in the tavern slowly builds in volume and frequency as the tavern fills up - the susurrus of many voices speaking doesn't take long to manifest.
Khalbar, sitting and speaking quietly with A'letta, is tapped on the shoulder. Standing behind him is a bodacious and beautiful redheaded girl with a worried look on her face. "Um, excuse me? You're one of the new goblinslayers, right? Can I ask you for a favor?"
Pick has backed into the corner by the fireplace again, huddled into his hooded robe. He is just as happy they are talking to each other and he can listen, without being addressed himself.
"Name is Pick," he mutters to himself very quietly. "Kill gob-lins." The more he practices it, the more natural it will sound.... right?
Khal turns to the girl, eyes widening as he take in her attractive appearance. He smiles grimly.
"I am one goblin slayers, yes. These are others." he gestures around the room to the assembled group. "Favor? What is it?"
He is a bit disgruntled by the interruption, but a pretty girl is always a welcome sight.
Rhanloi finishes up his research and tells his companions what he discovered . "Something is not right here...The theft of a priest's body can only mean foul magic. I for one will stay and help discover what is behind this." He turns to see what Khalbar thinks about staying, only to find he is conversing with a beautiful red-head. Although it is difficult not to stare at her, Rhanloi is more concerned about how Khalbar will handle the situation. He had never heard a detailed description of Khalbars wife, so Rhanloi fears the worst potential reaction for his new friend...
Hearing the stories of what happened with Khalbar, Rhanloi, and Loruk leaves Kyra feeling very bitter and jealous. Angry at herself, too, for not having any useful knowledge about necromancy or history or magic, she simply changes the subject and fills the others in on her conversation with the nobleman, trying to make it sound more exciting than it was. By the time she reaches the end of the story, she has found an angle to try and work the situation to her advantage.
Her voice drops, and she speaks very carefully at the next part, darting glares at the red-headed woman as she talks. "If indeed there is something more sinister going on, and the goblin attack was merely meant to distract, we must be cautious with our next step."
"Going into the woods under the guise of hunting boar would give us a better chance to investigate further, with our enemies being none-the-wiser about our true intentions."
"What say you?" She glances at each one slowly, then over to Pick, and upon hearing him murmur about killing goblins, she speaks to him directly. "Pick?" she asks. "Kill boar?"
Twitch. He's being spoken to. Name is Pick! No wait, she knows that already. He squints at her from behind his goggles. Woman-who-fights-with-no-weapon. ...that's unwieldy. Maybe there is a use for these 'names' after all.
They desire him to be useful in something else. It serves. He nods, once, the hooded head going up, then down.
"Kill bore."
Some burrowing, drilling thing? Very good. He would like to be underground again.
The beautiful woman tosses her hair and puts her hands togeher. "Brave warrior, there are rats in my basement. Not regular rats, but really big ones! I'm scared, and I think I need somebody to come by and help me with it. Would you please help me with my rat problem?"
Kyra can't resist the urge to roll her eyes at the woman.
A'letta's lips start trembling and she has to turn around before the woman would take offense. Mask or no mask, it is plain for all to see that the scene greatly amuses her.
Rhanloi is not really the 'hunting' sort, and the rat-killing job seems more along Khalbar's line of expertise. Plus, the lovely red-head is probably looking for a solo performance from the big man...and Rhanloi doesn't want to be the third wheel. He will wait and see - perhaps a day spent interrogating the goblin prisoners and studying would be a better use of the wizard's time tomorrow...
Khalbar tries to stifle a laugh. "Rats? Big rats? Take me at these scary rats. Rhanloi, you come? Anyone?"
Khalbar gets up to help the lass, but does look at her appraisingly first to make sure there isn;t some funny business going on here, especially based on the reactions of his companions.
Pick, in unconscious anxiety, digs his thumbnail into the wood of the nearest table. Gob-lins. Borers. Rats. Make up your minds, topsiders.
(See, this is part of the problem you surface races have: ignorant of true Purpose, you flit from thing to thing like bats in a cavern. No goal, no calling, no reason. Blown about by air. Not anchored in rock. Hsssst.)
On the other hand, rats are good eating. He's quite familiar with rat.
"Rats. Kill rats," he says in his hoarse voice to the big one's words. He cares nothing for beautiful redheads (although he stares at her hair, the garish color of it almost painful to his eyes). But he likes rat-meat.
"...go with?" Just in case he wasn't clear.
Looking at the otherwise nondescript lump-of-rags-with-a-ridiculous-square-of-fur-stuck-to-his-face dwarf with mild surprise, Rhanloi smiles and says, "Pick - you talk! Khalbar - let's bring the dwarf - he can fit in the rat holes!" This is followed by his lilting laugh at his little joke about Pick's stature. "Are we going now? I suppose this shouldn't take too long. Just as long as we don't miss out on the chance to sample some of the wonderful stew I smell cooking in the back!!"
Rhanloi stands, swallows the rest of his wine in one huge gulp, grabs his quarterstaff and light crossbow from the corner where he left them, and looks to Pick and Khalbar...
Khalbar had not paid particulary attention to the dwarf-like man before, now he looked at him with interest and nodded.
"Yes, you come get rat. Good!"
He turns to the damsel in distress. "Ready to fix your rats. Bring experts.", Khalbar says motioning to Pick and Rhanloi.
Level 1 - Color Spray, Sleep
Used Detect Magic and my 1 spell/day from bonded ring (Disrupt Undead)
Posting this so I have it handy for the rats =)
Wizards can prepare a number of cantrips, or 0-level spells, each day, as noted on Table: Wizard under “Spells per Day.” These spells are cast like any other spell, but they are not expended when cast and may be used again. A wizard can prepare a cantrip from an opposition school, but it uses up two of his available slots (see below).
Pick's shoulders, tensed up near his ears with the tension of all the options, drop back down in relief when Ran-loy and the big one tell him that he is to be killing rats.
Necessary work. Rats get into food. Destroy stores. Killing rats serves the clan.
...not that these topsiders are his clan. No. Very far from it. But... but it's good to have something to do. He slithers out from his corner to go stand a slight distance from Ran-loy and the big one.
Xogar stays in the tavern and ponders over his meal the events as they are unfolding today.
The beautiful woman laughs, her bouncy locks flowing with her short titter. "Oh, I can't imagine I'd need any more than just the big one. There really aren't so many rats that this man's obviously overwhelming strength wouldn't be more than...adequate." She strokes Khalbar's muscular arm as she says this last bit.
Her laugh drew the attention of every man in the Rusty Dragon Inn, they're now rapt with attention for who is most likely one of the most beautiful and sought-after woman for Sandpoint's bachelors.
Pick just stares up blankly at the woman touching the big one. Mating customs topside are weird.
Khalbar, who is a married and virtuous man, begins to grow uncomfortable in this situation, his lack of good communication skills inhibit his expression of what he really wants to say artfully.
He turns to face the woman, pulling his arm (gently) from her embrace, and says:"Pick make better rat hunter than me. If you need one, he go with you. Khalbar stay here instead. Please not be angry." He adds in a softer voice so she only can hear:[b]"Khalbar have wife and family."
A'letta notices how the crowd is staring at Khalbar and the beautiful redhead. She's playing a game and the innocent Shoanti seems to be the means to an end. She doesn't like where this is heading one bit. Yes, only moments ago it had seemed funny, but the Chelish imp had reared its ugly head and the woman showed her true intentions.
She turns around and opens her mouth, only to remember what the spirits had told her earlier that day - she'd find conflict where she looked for one. A more diplomatic approach was necessary here.
"I am sorry, but Shoanti customs differ from Sandpoint customs. Khalbar does not want to invoke the anger of the spirits, so it is best if you find someone else to do this. It is one thing to have angry rats in your basement, it is another to be chased by angry spirits wherever you go..", she says with a soft smile. A'letta made sure to thicken up her Shoanti accent.
The woman's lip curls into a frown, and her eyes tremble and begin to tear up. "You just don't want to help me, then, do you? Fine! I'll just do it myself!"
She turns on a heel and storms out of the Rusty Dragon Inn.
The inn is silent for just a few moment, before the patron begin their conversation and activity once again.
Pick stares after the woman, then shrugs his shoulders beneath his heavy robes.
"No rats. Bore?"
Kyra watches the woman leave, not feeling badly for her in the slightest, though somewhat curious what Khalbar could have said to make her leave. "Silly girl will likely be eaten by those rats." Kyra muttered, in a matter-of-fact kind of way. The way Kyra saw it, it was her own fault.
There were plenty of people here besides Khalbar who would have helped her. Including that strange little Dwarf, though he didn't seem to have any idea what was happening at any given point in time. Several times now she'd heard him just repeating himself over and over. She wondered idly if a lack of exposure to sunlight damaged him.
Something existed between Khalbar and A'letta that she didn't quite understand. It wasn't family, it wasn't friendship. It was... as two people from the same place trapped on a sinking ship. Much as Khalbar and his great strength interested her, she knew that that bond would be difficult to break. It may be necessary to get closer to A'letta. Kyra was suddenly glad the woman was coming on the hunt with her.
Ah, the hunt. She shook her head. Nothing cleared her mind quite like punching things. It would be good for her to get back into the wilderness, especially after her study this morning had been so rudely interrupted.
She turned to Pick as he spoke. "Yes," she agreed, a mischievous look in her eye. "Boar."
(Brain damage is an entirely likely assumption that can form regarding Pick.)
He gives the woman-who-fights-without-weapons another decisive nod.
"Bore. Kill before all collapses."
Khalbar nods to A'letta, the evidence of his relief apparent at avoiding a much more distressful scene.
"Thank you, Sister. You saved me from monster worse than rats."
He grins and downs his flagon of ail to hide his grief at missing Alia and his boy. Would he ever find them?
Xogar watches the exchange between Khalbar and the beautiful woman as she storms out of the tavern.
"Some women cannot take rejection." he says to nobody in particular and with a chuckle.
The remainder of the day is fairly relaxed, low-key, and fully uneventful. Those heroes that venture out into the town find themselves recognized everywhere they go, and those that stay in find themselves with a hand full of a mug of ale whenever they should want it, free of charge. Ameiko is very partial to having heroes stay in her inn.
Even with the day dragging on, like uneventful days always seem to, it ends regardless, and the heroes bed themselves down in the rooms they've been given.
It seems like no time at all, however, when Kyra finds her door being knocked upon energetically. Opening it, she finds the light of the morning and Aldern Foxglove in her face. "It's the day of the hunt! Are you ready? Are you bringing anybody?"
'Well, today's off to a great start' Kyra thought, rubbing her eyes separately while keeping the corresponding open one glaring at Aldern. Once she processed what he said, she smiled, excited for the hunt. 'The only thing that would make it better,' she decided, 'is if Aldern wasn't going.'
'I should send him to wake up A'letta, maybe she'll stab him with that enormous spear of hers. Or I could send him to get Pick, who'll just repeat what he says until he kills himself.'
She laughed without cluing Aldern in, and told him to wait outside for a moment while she got ready. "Oh! And we're taking the Dwarf and the other woman." she shouted through the closed door.
After making him wait for an inappropriate time just to see if he gets annoyed, she'll go with him to rouse the others.
While he waits for Kyra to woman herself up, Aldern goes to the rooms (as indicated by Ameiko) of both Pick and A'letta.
Knocking on A'letta's door, and upon opening it, he says "Wow..you really are a mountain of a woman...so you're coming on the hunt with us?"
Knocking on Pick's door, and upon opening it, he pointedly looks down when he notices Pick is not at eye-level for him. A bit unnerved by the strange-looking deep dwarf, he just motions into the common room to join the others.
"Name is Pick," Pick automatically informs the soft-looking human. He's really proud of himself; he's getting this introduction thing down great! Soon nobody at all will be able to tell he is not one of them!
(Keep dreaming, little duergar.)
Beyond that, he trundles down after the topsider, sidling into a corner until they are ready to head out. He has his pick. He has his gear. He has food that was not rotted or dug from the garbage, thanks to Ameiko's generosity towards the 'goblinslayers'.
This is not a bad set-up, he thinks to himself.
Spear-woman and... he needs to think of a shorter title for the other. (It's really too bad Kyra has already laid down the law regarding endearments with Aldern, or Pick could overhear a 'lovecrumpet' and start using that...) But the soft human calls her Lady, so that will suffice.
Spear-woman and Lady. Pick fixes the phrases in his mind, and drums his fingers restlessly on the handle of the pick as they prepare to get moving.
Rhanloi spends the morning in study, then decides to interrogate the two goblins he captured yesterday. If the one called 'Boss' is around he will ask him to go to the jail, too.
Level 1 - Color Spray, Sleep
After checking in with the Sheriff and asking not to be disturbed, Rhanloi sits outside the cell and stares at the goblins. After a few minutes, he withdraws his notepad and a quill and asks, "Aké je vaše meno? Aký je váš kmeň? Kto plánoval útok?"
If they answer, he writes some notes and continues his questioning. If at any point they become...difficult...or refuse to answer his questions, Rhanloi will use his magic to persuade them to be more cooperative. At first he will use Mage Hand to choke one goblin while questioning the other. If they need further persuasion, he will alternately use Acid Splash and Ray of Frost on them.
A'letta nods and introduces herself, "I am A'letta, a spirit talker of the Shoanti, and I will join you today yes." No matter what, she always finds herself looking down at the locals.
After exchanging pleasantries she moves down and out of the locale to join Kyra, wondering what today will bring. With that thought in mind she started drawing lines in the sand. Sounding slightly distracted she started talking to Kyra as the butt of her spear started turning the ordinary dirt into a glimpse of the future. "I've heard that Varisians use cards for this .. and the Chelish have priests and wizards who bargain with the sacred and profane for whispers of the future.."
Khalbar will join Rhanloi and will provide some muscle for the interrogation if any is necessary.
Foxglove smiles broadly at the two people Kyra's brought with her, but not half as broadly as he smiles at Kyra as he leads them out of the tavern. He's gathered horses for everyone, and he's bringing not one, but two porters for supplies and whatever boars they're obviously destined to kill and bring back.
Mounting his house, and beginning to lead the way out of town, he all but ignores everyone in the party. That is to say, if you don't count Kyra. He practically stares at Kyra the entire time, motormouthing whenever she isn't talking. "Who taught you to fight like that? How to you bring yourself to such bravery? Do you ever find that your opponents are transfixed by your beauty? How does a goblin's head feel as it breaks under your fist?" and on, and on, and on, as the group rides out of the town and into Tickwood.
The trip to the Sandpoint Garrison is short and uneventful, and the Sheriff lets you in with a silent nod and leads you to the goblins that they've captured - there are about half a dozen, all told.
In response to Rhanloi's question, there is an outrush of noise from the small pack of goblins. They seem to be fighting between themselves about who gets to eventually answer the question, amusement at the "longshanks" that can speak the tongue, and just plain chaos.
Eventually, the noise dies down, and one canny goblin approaches the bars, grabbing them with his hands.
The Dragon is pretty quiet after everyone's left. The orcish paladin is left to nurse a drink and meander through breakfast, right up until a crying woman and her crying son crash through the doors of the Dragon.
"Hello? I need help, and I heard Sandpoint's newest heroes room here. Hello?"
Rhanloi will interpret everything for Khalbar, and will ask his questions in goblin if he has any. When Grunu says the attack was led by goblins Rhanloi snorts in derision.
"Áno. Presne tak. Kto plánoval útok? Ako ste sa dostal do mesta v tomto košíku? Kto je Longshank vám pomáha?"
Pick stares with true horror at the four-legged beast he is meant to ride. Whut.
Of course, this mostly manifests at him standing stock-still for about thirty seconds while everyone else casually gets onto their steeds. Only when he realizes they are all waiting for him to get on a horse as well does he slowly, jerkily stir.
At least there is a saddle. And a convenient stump. Even so, the 'dwarf' is less 'throwing himself into the saddle' and more 'scaling the side of Mount Horsey' until he can scramble awkwardly aboard and knot his fingers into the beast's mane as if he is terrified of falling off. Which he is.
It is probably obvious he has never been on a horse before. Pick spends the first twenty minutes of the ride basically lying as flat on the horse's back as the saddle allows, arms thrown around the horse's neck. He glares almost non-stop at the back of the Soft Human's head.
The Soft Human is the reason he is in this position. The Soft Human should be strangled. Possibly with his innards. Sling-stone to the skull. No, pick to the skull. Stupid Soft Human with his stupid Big Animal Things. Hssst.
Since Soft Human is doing all his talking to Lady, Pick is left staring at A'letta. While he would be perfectly content to spend the rest of this horrific riding experience in grim (panicked) silence, he remembers seeing her drawing lines in the dirt again, this morning, and his curiosity is strong. As is his desire for a distraction.
"Spear. Dirt. You make... diagram?" he says very hesitantly. Diagrams and schematics, he sort of understands.
Kyra spends a considerable amount of time on the ride trying to get away from Foxglove. She tries slowing down, explaining that she's "waiting for the Dwarf", she tries speeding up, doing her best to ignore the glares from the Dwarf. She tries making up transparent excuses, "My horse has a cramp", but Foxglove is with her every step of the way, staring at her with that lost puppy look that she'd like to punch right off his face. Eventually she gives up, and her shoulders slump in grim acceptance.
The horse trots along and she gives brief, often single word answers to his questions. 'Who taught you to fight like that?' "Trainers." 'Do you ever find that your opponents are transfixed by your beauty?' "I'm usually engaged in the battle." 'How does a goblin's head feel as it breaks under your fist?' "Satisfying"
It doesn't let up, and more and more she wishes she could crush her own head under her fist. She's never been one for prayer, but she remembers seeing A'letta drawing in the dirt and projects thoughts in her direction that sound something like 'Oh my god please rescue me from this torturous man'. But of course the other woman doesn't hear her cries - how could she?
There was much about human interaction that Kyra did not understand. On some level she was aware that he was interested in her and was doing what Pick would consider a 'strange mating ritual', but she had had no exposure to such a thing before. There was no time for romance, only training. Even now, the task at hand was to kill boar. The larger task was to make connections. Every day her mind had to be on the mission, and nothing else.