Leaning on his spear, Garidan turns back to the Captain - and also looks to gauge any reaction from the others to Percival's suggestion...
'A Shoanti in the watch?' muses the tattooed Shoanti out loud, with a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth, 'What would your Lord Stafford say?'
"All the more reason to join, then. Stick it in His Worship's eye."
Auriel shows no emotion one way or another about the invitation extended to the Shoanti. She has been quiet and uncomfortable most of the night, sipping at the mead half-heartedly and shunning the muffins.
Awgin clasps hands with Heward and has a seat. He does not answer any questions about what happened, allowing the other members of his team to have the spotlight. He does order something with meat in to eat.
"Hawk Dancer! You should team up with Heward Table Dancer. His smooth moves helped us win the day."
Awgin clasps hands with Heward and has a seat. He does not answer any questions about what happened, allowing the other members of his team to have the spotlight. He does order something with meat in to eat.
"Hawk Dancer! You should team up with Heward Table Dancer. His smooth moves helped us win the day."
Heward looks at Awgin in annoyance, then begins to laugh. "He already did. If he hadn't shoved that table and spear at me, I wouldn't have been able to reach Veristan."
****
Auriel shows no emotion one way or another about the invitation extended to the Shoanti. She has been quiet and uncomfortable most of the night, sipping at the mead half-heartedly and shunning the muffins.
At some point during the night Heward shifts to sit beside Auriel. "Chin up there. The Watch sends its fallen out with a party. Markiv deserves to be celebrated. He went out fighting for the right. There'll be time for sadness at the funeral. "
Auriel stiffens a little as Heward scoots over next to her. "I'm not sad. I'm not ... anything. It's just.... What the Hells is the point? We lock up one jerk for stealing from another jerk, Pops dies, and no one cares. Nothing changes. What are we celebrating? What did any of this actually accomplish?"
"Hawk Dancer! You should team up with Heward Table Dancer. His smooth moves helped us win the day."
"He already did. If he hadn't shoved that table and spear at me, I wouldn't have been able to reach Veristan."
'Aye,' Garidan nods, ''tis a fine name, to commemorate an impressive victory over such a slippery foe.'
Clapping his hand on Heward's shoulder once more, Garidan declares,
'From this day forth, amongst my people, you shall be known as "Table Dancer"! It is a name well-earned.'
*****
"I'm not sad. I'm not ... anything. It's just.... What the Hells is the point? We lock up one jerk for stealing from another jerk, Pops dies, and no one cares. Nothing changes. What are we celebrating? What did any of this actually accomplish?"
'Look around,' offers Garidan, indicating the tavern full of revelers all toasting the fallen watchman, 'how can you think that no one cares? We celebrate the life and deeds of the one who has passed, we honour his memory and his spirit. As to what we accomplished: the city still stands, its people still live - such may not have been true had we failed this night. Although he's locked up, the Captain seems to think that Veristan will soon pay for his crimes with his life. As to why we stopped him - I don't know about you, but I stopped him to protect the people: that he stole property which had long ago been stolen from my people has little to do with it - it was what he intended to do with that property, and the lethal methods he chose to employ in seeking it out that motivated my involvement. By all means, grieve over the death of your...' Garidan looks a little confused thanks to Auriel's penchant for nicknames for a moment, but presses on, '... Father? But to equate the passing of his life with a pointless existence is to dishonour the man's accomplishments. Thanks to his sacrifice, his tribe continues and blossoms... what more could a man desire out of life?'
"Fine words, Hawk Dancer," Laya says, standing in her seat as usual. "I think our finest accomplishment in this endeavour is protecting the innocent lives that could have been lost had we not been there. If there had been no one else at Stafford's mansion other than himself, I would agree with you that we didn't really accomplish anything. However, there were many people there who could have died otherwise, both guests and servants. I didn't know Markiv very well. I only met him a few days ago, and never really spent much time with him. But he gave his life in a good cause and I can say with some confidence that Pharasma will judge his soul worthy. For that, I happily toast his life."
"It sounds like it's settled," Percival says. "Get your stuff and prepare to move in to the MSI HQ tomorrow morning. Oh, and the one final part of this job I might not have mentioned to everybody, silly me, but I'll need your reports on this incident within a week. Just a bit of a write-up of everything you saw and did throughout the course of the investigation, for the Watch's records. In the unlikely event that Veristan will actually warrant a lawyer to defend him, showing up with no official reports (or worse, conflicting official reports) is probably the only way that piece of scum could ever walk away from this whole thing. I'm sure none of us would want that."
Auriel thinks that Percival's glance rests on her a moment longer than the others, as if to say he suspects her of being the most likely to shirk such a responsibility.
With that, he turns and heads out into the early pre-dawn hours.
'Look around,' offers Garidan, indicating the tavern full of revelers all toasting the fallen watchman, 'how can you think that no one cares? We celebrate the life and deeds of the one who has passed, we honour his memory and his spirit. As to what we accomplished: the city still stands, its people still live - such may not have been true had we failed this night. Although he's locked up, the Captain seems to think that Veristan will soon pay for his crimes with his life. As to why we stopped him - I don't know about you, but I stopped him to protect the people: that he stole property which had long ago been stolen from my people has little to do with it - it was what he intended to do with that property, and the lethal methods he chose to employ in seeking it out that motivated my involvement. By all means, grieve over the death of your...' Garidan looks a little confused thanks to Auriel's penchant for nicknames for a moment, but presses on, '... Father? But to equate the passing of his life with a pointless existence is to dishonour the man's accomplishments. Thanks to his sacrifice, his tribe continues and blossoms... what more could a man desire out of life?'
"What more?" she answers testily. "To still be alive, maybe? Sorry, but if it were me dead, the thought that a bunch of people I barely know were drinking in my name wouldn't cheer me up much. Pretty sure everyone here would be drinking whether Pops were dead or not; they'd just have paid for their first round instead of drinking on someone else's coin. One person dies and a tavern full of strangers gets a free ale: where's the solace in that?"
"What more?" she answers testily. "To still be alive, maybe? Sorry, but if it were me dead, the thought that a bunch of people I barely know were drinking in my name wouldn't cheer me up much. Pretty sure everyone here would be drinking whether Pops were dead or not; they'd just have paid for their first round instead of drinking on someone else's coin. One person dies and a tavern full of strangers gets a free ale: where's the solace in that?"
'Then I suppose you should be grateful that it isn't you dead...' Garidan returns, evenly, '... and thankful that Markiv's sacrifice was not your own. It could easily have been any one of us who died in his place. So, if you refuse to celebrate the man's life, then maybe you'd at least be willing to celebrate your own?'
"What's to celebrate?" she asks tersely. "The fact that I earned an indefinite reprieve before eventually ending up like Pops anyway?" She gathers up her bag and the crossbow. "I have to return this," she excuses herself, leaving her mead and muffin largely untouched on the table as she heads out the door.
It's past time for Mrs. Brigglespan to be off duty and home, but Auriel finds her there anyway, puttering around one of the large meeting rooms, putting up maps of the city and districts on walls.
"Auriel, my dear," she says kindly, "You look like the weight of the world is upon your shoulders. What's the matter? Is it Markiv?"
"Who?" Auriel asks, startled. "Oh, Pops. You already heard, huh?" She sets the crossbow down carefully on the conference table, along with the quiver. "Thanks. It came in handy. They used some of the bolts. You can send Lord Stafford a bill, if you want." She turns a chair around and straddles it, resting her head on her arms folded across the top. "No, it's not really him. It's ... everyone else. Drinking 'in his memory,' like that does any good. Putting his name on a wall of honor. What's the point? Is that what people live for, so other people can get drunk when they're dead and their name can get written on a wall somewhere with a bunch of other names no one's ever heard of?"
"Come. Men like to drink, but they never pick the right beverage."
Mrs. Brigglespan picks up the crossbow and leads Auriel towards the kitchen where she begins the brewing of a nice cup of tea.
As it boils and steeps, she sits Auriel down with a small plate of sweets. "You're worried that you haven't made a difference tonight? That things are just back to the status quo? Surely, you must be able to find some good that came of tonight's events."
"I don't know," she responds idly, stacking up cookies into a tower. "One crazy guy's off the streets maybe, but there's a bunch of other crazy guys ready to take his place. Seems like when you 'win,' it doesn't matter. If he had at least knocked Stafford's house down, the people we got out would have been grateful to be alive, but since he didn't, we're just a bunch of jerks who interrupted a party for no reason. Like the other night. We kept the house from falling onto Lowcleft, but the people down below don't even believe they were ever in any danger. Everyone just keeps living life the way they always have, not realizing how easily it can all be over." She pokes her tower and spills cookies across the plate.
"But is that why you're really here, to get famous for saving people? The Hero of Magnimar, perhaps? You know those people were saved, I know those people were saved, but even if I didn't know, they would still have been saved. The world is filled with adventurers, looking to make their bones off the troubles of others. Sure, they dress it up with ideals of good and nobility, but if there are no troubles, they die in obscurity. Would the Sandpoint Heroes have been heroes if there had been no goblin attack that day? And individuals likes those who actually have the opportunity to affect the world on such a large scale are exceedingly rare. Maybe that'll be you, too, someday. But right here, right now, you are in a position to make an actual difference in the lives of real people. Quietly, behind the scenes. You won't be popular, you won't be famous, you might not even be known, but you'll be able to dangle your grandchildren on your knee and tell them how the world they know came into being because of your actions. And that's really the only reward or recognition anyone needs."
"See? That's it!" Auriel complains. "Everyone has something they're doing this for. Grandchildren, or pleasing the captain like Heward and Awgin, or serving Pharasma like Laya, or some Shoanti mumbo-jumbo like Hawk-Dancer believes in, or..." she is momentarily stumped by Calatin, "whatever it was the wizard was thinking about when he was about to go up like a flaming pudding. Even Pops must have had something he thought was worth living and dying for when he was all wrapped up in that snake. What am I here for? I'm like the people at the party or at the base of the cliff, only I know how close death came. And going on the way I was like it's not there isn't enough anymore." She pushes away from the table and begins to pace. "It's not just about having a reason to die; it's about having a purpose to being alive. If I quit right now and walked away... what would I do?"
"I don't know, my dear. Al I can suggest to you is this: if you need a reason to keep going, I think you already have it. Sure, let the others do it out of a sense of duty, or curiosity, or devotion, and you...you focus on making as many small and insignificant differences as you can. Make a beach, Auriel, one grain of sand at a time. It could be that that's the purest and most noble reason of all."
She pats Auriel on the hand and stands, putting her dishes in the sink. Returning, she puts her hand on the crossbow and slides it over to Auriel. "And as for this...keep it. I suspect you'll get more use out of it than I. After all," she pauses to laugh, "what am I going to do with a once enchanted crossbow at my stage in life?"
When Auriel leaves the pub, Garidan shakes his head sadly,
'That one seems to think she's the centre of the cosmos,' he comments to the others, 'even when we're here to pay our respects to her fallen comrade. I'd like to say such an attitude only infects outsiders, but Veristan proves that even my people, who should know better, can fall prey to such things. A huntress who cares more about her own safety than that of her fellow hunters is likely to get herself or them killed...' he shakes his head again, seeming more disappointed than anything... then looks up and shrugs, '... although maybe things work differently here in the city? In any case, we can hope that it is merely a symptom of her grief, and not a genuine lack of spiritual depth.'
Garidan takes his leave and, as suggested by the Captain, gathers his things to arrive at the MSI headquarters in the morning.
"Don't be to hard on her. Not everyone handles death well. She probably just looked into the abyss and wasn't prepared for what she saw. Either she'll come around or she won't. In either case, welcome to MSI."
"I don't know, my dear. Al I can suggest to you is this: if you need a reason to keep going, I think you already have it. Sure, let the others do it out of a sense of duty, or curiosity, or devotion, and you...you focus on making as many small and insignificant differences as you can. Make a beach, Auriel, one grain of sand at a time. It could be that that's the purest and most noble reason of all."
She pats Auriel on the hand and stands, putting her dishes in the sink. Returning, she puts her hand on the crossbow and slides it over to Auriel. "And as for this...keep it. I suspect you'll get more use out of it than I. After all," she pauses to laugh, "what am I going to do with a once enchanted crossbow at my stage in life?"
Auriel blinks with surprise at the gift. "Um... thanks. I guess what you said makes sense. I can give it a try anyway. It'll probably continue to cheese everyone else off...," she grins, "which is a plus." She grabs a handful of the cookies and tucks them in her pockets, then picks up the still-steaming cup with what's left of her tea. "I'll take it upstairs. Captain Boring-Shoes assigned homework." She rolls her eyes exaggeratedly.
Shortly before nine, Captain Percival arrives to take Laya to the Pediment Building to appear before a judge. It is a closed proceeding, but the rest of you are welcome to come along for moral support. Percival assures everybody that things will turn out well, or at least, well enough, and sure enough, a while later the two emerge from the courtroom, able to return to the MSI building.
Garidan (I assume) arrives at HQ early that morning with his belongings. Markiv's things are cleared out of his room so that Garidan may move himself in. Shortly before lunch, men from a mortuary come to take Markiv's body for burial preparation. With them is a Ms. Tempora Palmera, a rather humourless and dour woman from the mortuary who wishes to discuss what sort of arrangements you would like for the ceremony, which temple to approach, identities of Markiv's family, etc.
Auriel doesn't go along to the Pediment Building, instead taking the opportunity to sleep in. (It only comes along six or seven times a week, after all.) She does trail downstairs in time for the visit from the corpse lady. She quickly demurs when the woman approaches her about funeral arrangements. "Sorry, I barely knew Pops; only met him a few days ago. The tall guy over there, though," she points to Garidan, "they were real close. You should have heard him last night, going on about how we should honor his life. I'm sure he'll be able to tell you all about Pops' family and what deity he worshiped and what he would have wanted."
Sense motive:
Ms. Palmera raises an eyebrow, responds with a slow, low-pitched, "I see. Very well then," and turns to inquire of Garidan what arrangements he would like.
Auriel smirks at Garidan over Ms. Palmera's shoulder as the woman approaches him and heads for the kitchen to see if she can find any lunch to eat for breakfast.
Garidan certainly goes along to the Pediment Building as moral support, probably spending his time looking big and glaring in a menacing fashion at anyone he thinks may be against Laya in the judgement .
Later on, catching Auriel's smirk as the funeral director approaches him, Garidan's expression is briefly one of mild confusion and concern that Auriel seems so pleased that her comrade's mortal remains are being taken away - did she hate the man that much? - but facing questions about the funeral arrangements themselves doesn't appear to faze him in the least...
'Markiv gave his life to defend this city,' he says to Ms. Palmera, 'as I'm sure you are aware. We must continue to honour his memory and deeds in story and song. The patron at the Cenotaph Arms has already volunteered to aid in such memorial, placing Markiv's image amongst the honoured fallen in battle. We will dedicate a hunt to him when opportunity arises in the near future. As to the disposition of Markiv's mortal remains, I am not of the Skoan-Quah myself, although the priestess Laya is a servant to your goddess who, as far as I understand these things, fulfils a similar role in your society. Come, we will seek her out together!'
Taking Ms. Palmera by the arm, the big Shoanti escorts her to Laya to properly arrange the funeral.
Finding one of the two books he read last time, Calatin flips to the back and finds the method for taking it apart. What Garidan could not do with brute force can be accomplished by a direct casting of protection from evil on the enjoiner, followed by any healing magic or positive channeled energy.
Also, idly flipping around in the book, Calatin turns to the very back, where the names of loaners can be found scrawled on the card. Very few have read this book in recent times, though it was taken out by one Veristan Mikobar a few months back. Tacking down the other volume he had foud last time, he sees that it too had been loaned to Veristan.
As Calatin turns to replace the books prior to leaving, he bumps rather heavily into a man with a similar stack of tomes, Professor Erem Tenadi, one of Calatin's divination professors. The man grumbles as he stoops to retrieve his books, ready to lash into the foolish student who knocked into him, only to smile at seeing the rotund alumnus.
"Calatin ab'Halla! What brings you back to the nest?"
Taking Ms. Palmera by the arm, the big Shoanti escorts her to Laya to properly arrange the funeral.
"I would be happy to handle the funeral arrangements," Laya says. "However, we should start by determining whether he belonged to a particular faith. If so, they might want to handle the funeral arrangements themselves. Do you know if he was? I'm afraid I never had a chance to get to know him very well."
"Well, if you are unable to determine his exact faith, the faith of Pharasma has dominion in all matters pertaining to death, so a Pharasma service would most likely be acceptable. Would you like to perform it, or call upon one of your colleagues at the Temple?"
Awgin comes down stairs and eats quietly.
Those who went to the courthouse to support Laya see her come out with her lawyer, unmanacled, and slightly stunned looking. Her lawyer is much more stunned looking, though equally unmanacled.
"The same," Tenadi replies. "Well, the ferreting out information bit, not deactivating artefacts - sounds exciting. We should catch up sometime, grab some dinner at the pub." He pauses to give Calatin's girth a friendly smirk. "I made tenure last year, so now I can afford it!"
He gets the last of his books together and bids farewell.
Heward holes up in the morning to struggle through writing his report. Didn't realize when I signed up I'd have to write.... He does make time to go down to Laya's proceeding.
Seeing Laya and the lawyer emerge, he's unsure how to read their expressions.
"Soooo. How did it go?"
"Well," Laya says, "either the Lord Mayor really likes me, or he really despises Lord Stafford. Either way, it went surprisingly well thanks to his intervention."
"So when is this interrogation and do I really have to write it down?"
Mrs. Brigglepsan does indeed have particulars on Markiv (and indeed in all of you, so if there's any specific information, either true or false, that your character would have wanted to give her, let me know), but sadly, Markiv did not list a specific faith,or family contacts. The final lady's suggestion of a generic Pharasma slice would seem to Laya to make the most sense, given the situation. Is that something Laya would want to conduct herself, or find somebody from the temple? How familiar is Layawith the priests at the Temple itself, anyway?
Barring anything else to do, Garidan will check out the headquarter's alchemical resources.
There HQ is equipped with the best alchemist's lab available in the rules (so whichever is the most expensive), and yes, there are components for alchemical crafting (the MSI Unit's budget allows for the purchase of supplies to make alchemical stuff - part of the party's "treasure"). Eventually, I'd like to come up with a way of tracking the MSI's actual budget, but before that happens, the party needs to be given an actual budget. Right now, the unit's operating out of the miscellaneous funds for the Watch, and doesn't have it's own funding - part of the party's job is to get the Unit enough prestige and recognition to deserve it's own budget. For now, whatever crafting the party wants to do, either alchemical, mundane, or magical, you can do at zero cost to yourselves, so long as it's for stuff you will consume in the line of duty. After all, it's cheaper for the Watch to outfit you in that way than having to shell out for retail healing potions! Of course, if you start stealing Watch resources to craft stuff to sell for yourself, that could land you in a heap of trouble if and when you get caught! :)
By the way, house rule for crafting: if making the item takes four hours or less (basically, if the market value is 500 gp or less), it counts as half a day's crafting and you can make two in one day.
Mrs. Brigglespan does raise an eyebrow when Garidan comes to her with his requisitions. "I know you're probably not totally up on the politics of an organization such as the Watch, Mr. Hawk Dancer, so I'll let you in on a little secret. The trick to getting money out of somebody else's budget is a lot like making frog soup. If I send this to the Pediment Building, you'll probably get it all, but you'll also get somebody in a suit coming over to see what on earth you need it all for, and the next time I requisition this stuff, I'll get the response, 'Have you used it all up already from the last time?' and I'll get another fellow in a suit coming to check up on us. However, if we request some of this, say, the two 'kits' you think you'll use most often, that won't raise any eyebrows, so in another week, I can request the same stuff plus a bit more, maybe another two of these kits, and still, no suits. Turn the heat up a little bit so the frog doesn't know what's happening until he's already soup. Does that make any sense?"
Garidan smiles at the lady's words of wisdom,
'As long as we're the chefs and not the frogs, Mrs Lona Brigglespan,' he replies, 'that seems like a fine way to get things done.'
Okay, so Garidan is brewing potions for the next two days. Now that Navior is back, we can finalize the details of Markiv's funeral with Laya, though that will probably happen in three or four days time.
What else is happening?
Mrs. Brigglepsan does indeed have particulars on Markiv (and indeed in all of you, so if there's any specific information, either true or false, that your character would have wanted to give her, let me know), but sadly, Markiv did not list a specific faith,or family contacts. The final lady's suggestion of a generic Pharasma slice would seem to Laya to make the most sense, given the situation. Is that something Laya would want to conduct herself, or find somebody from the temple? How familiar is Layawith the priests at the Temple itself, anyway?
The funeral lady only suggested another cleric in case she felt too close to the deceased to do the service properly. If she's fine with doing it, she's not going to object ("saves the city money, after all," she mutters at some point).
The funeral is set for the 10th at 14h00 at the Temple of Pharasma, with interment to follow shortly thereafter in a cemetery twenty minutes outside the city. Are there any activities in which people wish to engage between now and then (besides Garidan brewing his two sets of potions)?
So just to confirm, Garidan, he's making the "good cop/bad cop" and "CSI" kits?
"I have no problem conducting the funeral," Laya says. "Indeed, I would be honoured."