As the band of adventurers enter the town Jix glances quizzically around at all the fires. Not that she didn't enjoy attending the occasional bonfire but something about this seemed off to the young rat girl.
When the hungry stares came from the townsfolk towards their wonderful magic wagon Jix made a point to fix everyone who dared gaze with wanting eyes at their wagon with a deadly glare. Rapping her fingers against her crossbow which sat across her lap in her perch atop the Good Noodle. To ensure the townspeople would know that they would not tolerate theft of their property.
Median is trying to figure out why the fires... heat or light or something completely different.
Jix shifted her glance briefly to Lia as she made her way over to the ratfolk's side before resettling her stern,expression on the villagers about the wagon. "Mmm, seems fair certain to me what that they be tryin' to keep somethin' out dunnit? I mean they keep placin' those torches outside their 'omes like tis the only thing stavin' off a brutal 'n' swiff death. Jus' keep yer eyes peeled eh Snowflake? Dun need you added to the kindlin' now do we?"
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Laurentiu lefts his head. His expression is the same, almost unemotional.
Median and Lia, as far as you can tell they're just normal bonfires. Normal, giant, blazing furiously bonfires being tended to around the town.
"Allow me to escort you inside. The master will wish to speak with you. The servants will take your carriage and secure it."
If you follow him, he will lead you to a sitting room. The room has red wallpaper with floral designs of the local flowers in gold leaf. The armchairs are made of soft leather and surround a low glass table set with light refreshments, and a glass chandelier glitters overhead, unlit. It smells of musty books, though none can be seen on the shelves.
Irian shrugged, handing the reins of the lead horse over to a servant before looking at his companions to gauge their reaction. The warrior was alright with going insight, but he wasn't going to break any barriers for mental prowess, so he figured he'd trust their opinion of both this butler and the situation in general. If they proceeded inside, he would follow suit. If not, then he would do the same.
Median goes inside with Laurentiu.
After a short wait, Anya the baroness enters the room.
She wears a finely embroidered gown with short sleeves. Those of keen sight will note the careful scarwork trailing up her arms, a sign of her devotion to a painful god, something of a trend with the current Nisroch's nobility. She greets you, offering her right hand in a manner to courtly shake, and you also notice the top sections of her pinky and index finger are removed, a common mutilation among the daughters of the wealthy Nidalese nobility, to show that they will never need to work for their living.
"Welcome to Karpad," she greets, warmly. "May I inquire to your business here?"
Laetitia is slow to rise from the settee as the lady enters the drawing room. She had been looking to make a good impression on the noble family, trying to become accustomed to the stale, moldy smell lingering in the room so that she could greet the lord or lady with something other than a sour look on her face. Just when she had schooled her features into something more pleasant, Tish is left looking a little stricken at the Lady of the Manor's injuries. In the time it takes for her to remember the most basic of manners—that of not gawping at people who are a bit different—the window of opportunity for the mesmerist to recover gracefully from her faux pas has firmly shut.
Finally standing to meet the baroness, Tish offers the woman a smile she hopes doesn't look as strained as it feels. "Thank you for seeing us... Lady Boroi, I presume?" She shakes the other woman's hand with a dainty grasp. "We were hoping you might be able to answer that question for us yourself. Your butler Laurentiu made mention of you being in need of some help. My companions and I have been asked to offer our assistance, but I'm afraid the missive was rather brief about the nature of your troubles..." Tish trails off, hoping to prompt an explanation from the baroness.
Median shakes Anya's hand in a courtly shake, and says
Thank you.
when she is welcomed.
She then steps back as Tish takes the lead, but tries to remember if she knows which God Anya might worship, that would require such things.
Irian just offered the Nidalese noblewoman a brief nod of respect, not wanting to interrupt his companions and their questions and answers to the scarred Lady. The warrior kept an even face, as the woman did not seem under duress. The nobility was a strange group, and he didn't understand much about the customs of them in his native land, let alone a foreign one. Best to stay in the background and look competent and let the lovely, well-spoken ladies do the verbal exercise.
Median, you remember seeing some tapestries while being escorted to the sitting room. They depicted Zon-Kuthon, the prince of pain and technically an evil god.
Lia uses her background and experience to flawlessly offer an appropriate greeting to the lady of the house. While Laetitia recovers just a half-moment later, it seems it was indeed enough for Lady Anya to notice, though she says nothing of it.
"I see... I had recieved a missive from my family that they would be sending someone to check on me, through way of a favor, but I never expected a group such as yourselves."
She chuckles to herself, her laughter full of warmth and mirth.
"But that was months ago, before we had to cease all post in and out of Karpad. An extreme measure, but a necessary one my husband believes in."
Her mood grows a bit somber as she mentions her husband.
"He hasn't been the same really, a year of marriage and I can't imagine he would be so....paranoid. When I bore a son, I thought he would grow calmer but..."
She quickly places her hand on her mouth.
"I'm so sorry, I haven't talked to anyone but my husband and the servants for months. It's nice to have a release if you know what I mean..."
She thinks for a moment.
"If this favor carries to me, young travelers, could you listen to my request? My husband will grow mad at this rate. There have been disappearances in the town and strange new disease as horrible as it appears. If the owed favor is not enough, then I can compensate you with what I have."
Laetitia looks away from the baroness when it appears the other woman has noticed her blunder and cuts her eyes at Lía instead. Although she fancied herself the point person in the group when it came to dealing with the people contracting their services, Tish supposes the Northern half-elf is useful to have around on the off-chance that she herself makes a rare social misstep. Tish is grateful, after all, that someone was able to step in and make a decent impression on their prospective client. Not that she was going to admit to that any time soon.
"I realize we may look like any other ragtag group of adventurers," Tish says evenly, the Lady's laughter having recaptured her attention and rubbed her the wrong way. "But I assure you each of us is quite capable."
Laetitia listens carefully as Lady Boroi jumps from one topic to another, filing away each bit of information the woman doles out for future reference. She waves off the noblewoman's offered apology, choosing instead to lend a sympathetic ear to the seemingly lonely, distraught woman. Or Tish pretends to lend a sympathetic ear, anyway; in actuality, that ear is just as callous as every other part of her.
"There will be time enough to discuss that later," Tish says in reference to the implied payment. "For now, please"—although not quite so bold as to tell a Lady to sit in her own home, Tish does suggest it, indicating the chair just behind the woman—"why don't you tell us about this mysterious disease first?" Tish suggests, more out of concern for her own health than anything else.
Irian's eyes widened as he listened to the noblewoman tell of the extreme steps the Baron had taken to isolate the community. As the Lady went on to talk of disappearances and diseases, the warrior grew concerned, though he had grace enough to keep his mouth shut and let more experienced social experts in the party (i.e., everyone who wasn't him) engage Boroi.
The fighter just continued to keep a few paces away from the main conversation, hoping his presence nearby would help somewhat soothe the woman, but also staying far enough away so that his size would not intimidate. He shifted his weight to his other foot, and winced as an assortment of creaks and metallic jingles accompanied the movement. The armor had saved his life countless times, but it could make remaining unobtrusive difficult.
Somewhat wary of the worshipper of an evil God, Median worried that they could be being deceived. Still, she wanted to help if she could, so she waited to see exactly what was being asked of them.
Jix gawked about the room as they entered. She had never entered the home of a noble before and seeing all the opulence in this place was certainly a first for the girl. Pshh some people just so sodding full of 'emselves. What is this place if not a temple dedicated to 'emselves? She grunted as she glanced about the home and tried to place herself in an unnoticeable position by pressing herself up between Irian and the wall. Noble folk had a nasty habit of disliking rats after all.
Lady Anya nods as she listen's to Laetitia.
"I'm afraid I can't be much there. I was in the estate when the first cases began to pop up, and Stepan worked zealously to make sure there was no trace of infection up here. I all I know is that it is rumored that a few fetchlings that worked here who once worked here were the start of this disease. I believe Lucian Grey, our captain of the watch, should know more.
Median speaks up.
Okay... if you don't know anything about the disease, what do you know of the disappearances? How exactly can we help you? Are you looking for us to find the cause of both the disappearances and the disease, or is there more to it?
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As Irian did his best to blend in, he felt movement behind him and saw his rat-like companion slinking between him and the wall, obviously doing a better job of being unobtrusive than the large warrior. He smirked, then shrugged...everyone had their gifts.
As the noblewoman answered Tish, and then Median asked follow-up questions, Irian listened patiently and with interest, already assuming the group's next stop would be with the Captain Grey that the woman had mentioned.
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Lady Anya's shoulder visibly drop.
"I'm sorry...I feel like a bird in a cage sometimes. It is a rather nice cage, and with a handsome caretaker...."
"What you can do to help is find the source of this illness, perhaps even put a stop to this outbreak. I'll help how I can, but my reach is limited. Though...I do feel bad for the featchling population. Even if they are the cause, they are victims like the rest of the town, and the anger pointed at them is concerning..."
Still wondering about the mentioned disappearances, but finally realizing that they would get no more out of the woman, Median says
Thank you. We will go see Captain Grey, and do our best to help.
Tish eyes the Lady Boroi a little strangely after her last comment. Suddenly, it is as if she is looking into a strange sort of mirror reflecting an alternate version of her own life. Laetitia had only been a pawn in her parents' constant jockeying for power. Her hand in marriage was due to be sold to the highest bidder before Tish absconded to join the Pleasure Salon. To hear the Baroness's complaints and realize that this is what her life would be like had she been too timid to go against her family's wishes is a terribly surreal experience for the (mostly) former courtesan. And it is with a shock that Tish realizes she can empathize with Anya. Can, but won't. Tish isn't getting paid to be the Baroness's lady-in-waiting. And even if she did feel compelled to help lift the other noblewoman out of her boredom and misery, the only advice she had to give would likely not be well-received. For some reason, ladies often took offense when one suggested they might make a good courtesan. Prudes.
Slightly shaking her head to dispel the strange thoughts and sentiments that crept into her mind, Tish gives Lady Boroi a tight-lipped smile. "And where might we find Captain Grey, Your Ladyship?" Once she has her answer, Tish inclines her head in farewell. "We'll leave instructions on where we'll be staying with your butler, Lady Boroi. If there is anything else, please send for us."
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As the more conversational of the group say their farewells to Lady Boroi, Irian finally moved a bit away from the wall so as to be closer to the exit when the group made its way to the door. He offered the noblewoman a slight bow as a courtesy, keeping his face somber though he felt a bit like giggling.
When the group was outside, he sighed inwardly at the thought of investigating a sickness. The commotion at the carnival had been aggravating to a degree, but at least there was a tangible foe to face at the end. How did one fight a sickness? This place needed a medicine man more than adventurers, it seemed. Then again, they had their very own lady of the gods with them. Perhaps Median could help with the problem and they could be on their way to a more sexy issue.
For now, though, they needed to speak with this Grey. The warrior walked with the group, keeping his eyes wary for those that might think of tailing or ambushing the party. The people didn't seem the sort, but desperate times made for terrible choices, and even Irian had to admit that the group's wealth was starting to show. Best to be careful.
Walking down from the Baron's estate is a somewhat surreal experience as you leave the brightly-lit and roaring fires to the relative quiet (but still lit) path down to town. As you boots, shoes, and other footwear trod the dry soil, thoughts wandering to the shadows, you wonder if fighting a disease will be as easy as plunging a knife into an enemy's chest.
But you are ripped from your thoughts as you get closer to town. An inn, a smithy, and a carriage house mark the three sides of a town square paved with cobblestones. A gnarled, leafless oak grows in the northeast corner. Ropes dangle from its branches above a low platform to make a crude gallows. Surrounding it, a mob of thirty or so human villagers gathers, their anger as wild as their torches. In the middle of the mob, three fetchlings dressed in simple farmer clothes huddle together as they try and not get close to any part of the mob surrounding them.
And there, from the description you've recieved from Lady Anya, is Lucian Grey. He is a heavyset man who is dressed in leathers and chainmail. His face is an ashen grey like his hair, but the most notable feature is his bulging neck, almost similar to that or a puffed up frog. You can see the dark veins running in the throat and the subtle wobble as he speaks in a frenzied manner.
"These demons! These demons are the ones that have taken my Olya away from me!"
He switches from frenzied anger to beside-himself sorrow.
"My poor baby girl! Gone!"
Back to anger.
"They're the ones to blame!"
The mob is agreeing loudly, some with simple farming equipment, other just the torches they've brought with them. The makeshift gallows glow in the flickering light.
"String them up!" someone yells.
"Justice! Justice!"
"We should run them all out of town!"
A sick feeling welled up in Jix's stomach as she looked on at the proceedings, being a ratfolk growing up in mostly human settlements and in poverty she knew what it was like to be the subject of discrimination and suspicion, even if the latter was well eearnd given thr girl's penchant for pocketing things that didn't belong to her.
She nudged at Tish and noddwd her head at the mob before them, "We should probably do somethin' to calm this 'ere sitchiation down afore the villagers decides what that the new people in town are to blame fer all this rot next. Think ya could manage a little charm 'ere Tish?"
Captain Grey is the fanatic in charge?
Median thinks this whole job is questionable. First the worshipper of an evil God, now a crazy fanatic. How exactly were they going to get some valid information and help these people?
Median walks forward and sits crosslegged on the edge of the low gallows and addresses the crowd. In her most reasonable voice she says
Hello. My name is Median, and we've been hired by the Boroi family to get to the bottom of this mess. Maybe we could take a moment and talk about what is going on before proceeding with an execution. After all, we want everything to be legal, right?
She smiles, encouraging everyone to act like reasonable adults and start talking instead of killing.
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As the situation began to play out in front of the group, Irian looked on in weary resignation. Was this the reaction of every backwater town to a crisis? To condemn and execute anyone different? The warrior whole-heartedly agreed with Jix's sentiment, though a dark part of the young man's brain wanted the villagers to try such a thing with the group. Frightened fetchlings were much different than well-trained warriors, after all.
Still, cooler heads needed to prevail if that wasn't to devolve into a full-blown s&$~ show, so Irian walked with Median to the gallows as she addressed the crowd. When she seated herself on the platform, presumably to get in front of the mob, but also to somewhat block the folks from using the nooses, he took his place on the platform, looming behind her with a dark look and saying nothing as he crossed his thick arms.
A few members of the crowd seem to listen to Median's words, and there fervor drops as their torches and farming instruments do.
townsfolk have been swayed out of thirty.
The majority of the crowd still calls for violence, though one of the calmed members steps up to explain.
"Yeah, we'd consult the Baron normally but he's been absent since the whole thing started a few weeks ago. And I'm sure he'd agree with us about their guilt; he fired every fetchling in his employ after the disease first showed up. He's got to know they're behind the whole thing, right?"
If he had known they were guilty, they would all be on trial. He wouldn't have just let them go, right? ... Can you tell me why you think they are to blame in all of this? Are you just acting because he fired them, or do you have more evidence? ... I'm sure good folks like you wouldn't just kill living creatures based on rumor. ... You're scared. I get that. ... Let's talk about what we know and what we don't know and figure it out together.
(She is asking questions to and reasoning with the audience and then pausing to let them think about it, not just rapid-fire hitting them with all of that at the same time.)
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Laetitia answers Jix's call to action with a derisive scoff, choosing instead to start rifling through her satchel in search of something. It wasn't right or fair the way these fetchlings were being mobbed against, and Tish is more than capable of seeing the parallels between the situation before her and the incident back in Ilsurian with the Varisian boy in which she did intervene. But unlike in that instance, she wasn't being paid by the fetchling community and so felt no overwhelming urge to ignore her sense of self-preservation for the three unlucky targets. Who appointed Tish the champion for social equality anyway?
Saved from having to give some self-serving answer to Jix thanks to Median's initiative, Tish instead says, "No need. Median seems to have a handle on things. Let's just see how it plays out before we get involved. Now, where is... aha!" Tish finally manages to find what she had been searching for, pulling out a length of garish fabric that is the scarf Median had given her after the aforementioned "Varisian boy" instance and hastily wrapping it around the lower half of her face. Lady Boroi's talk of disease has the woman on edge, and if one thing about the situation is clear to Tish it's that, whatever the sickness is, Captain Grey definitely has it.
Irian frowned more deeply as the villager explained the group's reasoning to Median. It seemed that people in power abandoning those they were charged to lead and protect was not a regional problem in the Varisian subcontinent. The good-natured cleric seemed to be blunting the worst of the issue, but the crowd was still calling for blood. This could get ugly, and quick.
As Median continued to reason with the crowd, Irian stepped off the platform to the man who seemed to be Captain Grey, glowering at the heavyset man. "Sir, please tell these people to go home. We'll take these folks into custody until we can sort this out." With a wave of his hand he indicated the surrounded fetchlings. Plan C was likely slugging a meaty fist into Grey's gut, so he hoped the zealot would listen to reason.
"I suppose that makes sense... another calmed villager says, and others begin to calm as well, the fervor of their emotions shrinking.
But the sheriff sees what's going on.
"You lot would let these murderers off so easy?! Think of what they've done to us! To your families! To me!"
With each word his swollen neck wobbles.
Total convinced villages: 12, roughly 1/3 of the crowd.
Median glances briefly at Tish, hoping for some support, but seeing what she is doing, she concludes that her assistance would likely work against her goals rather than helping.
She addresses the sheriff, but loudly enough for the whole crowd to hear:
Sir, how do you know they are murderers? I think all of us are interested in justice here, and you have clearly suffered, but we don't want to condemn others blindly.
She turns slightly, attempting to address both the sheriff and the larger crowd.
We're here to help. Let's all hear the evidence, and make the best choice. If there's a reason, let's put them on trial and get justice. If not, let's make sure we find whoever is really to blame. Let's not do something that we regret just because we're scared.
With half the crowd gone uncomfortably silent, the other half in a fervor starts to whither as well. Eventually, the rest of the crowd still looks unhappy, but at least they're not screaming for blood.
Sherriff Lucian Grey, however, is still seething. His light mace is gripped in one hand and he raises it threateningly.
"How about justice for the dead!? For those mourning!? We're all going to die from the disease, so why not reap justice while we can!? If you're with me, I'll strike the first blow in this act called justice!"
It seems the sheriff hasn't given up, and his words do seem to tug at a local anger, and sorrow, but more importantly....fear.
We aren't all going to die. At least *I'm* not planning on dying, and you shouldn't be either.
Median smiles.
Things are scary right now, but they will get better. Please don't act blindly because you are afraid. Instead, let's talk about the whole situation and figure out an answer... not just about who is to blame, but also what we can do about our current situation.
Where is this disease coming from? What have we tried already? I know that we're new here, and we haven't been through what you have been through, but we ARE going to solve this. We can do it together. We don't need to let go of hope or act rashly.
Irian's first instinct is to react to the Sheriff's blustering, threatening attitude with bared steel, but he stays his hand as Median continued to calmly and logically assault his insane rage. The tactic was clearly working with the townspeople, though that fact seemed to be driving Grey mad. The warrior stayed close to the good-natured cleric, dividing his attention between her and the fetchlings to make sure no one tried to attack them while the scene played out.
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Jix nodded along stoicly as Median reasoned with the crowd, honestly she had been doing a very impressive job and Jix couldn't help but wonder if she were sliping in a bit of divine magic to help pacify the crowd as one by one they all began to lose their demented fervor for blood.
"'Sides," The cunning ratfolk began to address the crowd as well. "They say what that killin' a fetchling in cold blood brings a terrible 'aunting down on the killer's family for generations they do. Say it's impossible to 'scape that there curse an' that every moment is a living 'ell from that moment on." she spins her bold faced lie, preying on the commoner's lack of knowledge and knowing how simple it was to convince the common man of sorcrey where none existed at all.
With a bit of help from Jix to pressure the already stressed nerves of the villagers, this once massive roil of aggression has calmed into what it really was at the core. A large group of scared citizens stand, a few even realizing what they had almost done. And slowly begin to disperse, the fetchling family breathing in relief.
Even with the lynching successfully stopped, Sherrif Lucian Grey takes even longer to calm down, and there's tense few moments before he too drops what he's wielding and take a few minutes to calm down.
The fetchling family has moved off the gallows and is now resting by the side of a building, it seems two were so shaken up that they're unable to walk at the moment.
A slow smile spreads across Tish's face underneath the gaudy scarf as the situation is resolved without violence and, more importantly, without her needing to intervene. But her smile is short-lived. With the crowd dispersed, Tish is left with the choice of either joining the group in questioning the definitely infected, potentially deranged lawman Captain Grey, or talking to the fetchlings accused of being the direct cause of the disease. Going to wait in the carriage while the group handled the information gathering is likely not an option if she wanted to remain on the group's good side. Picking what she considers the lesser risk, Tish grumbles to herself as she stalks over to the family. Realizing she is radiating her foul mood when she sees fresh fear on their faces, Tish adopts a less threatening posture by raising her empty hands. "Relax. I'm with the group that just talked you out of getting strung up like some terrible Crystalhue ornaments," she tells them by way of introduction.
Tish gives them a few moments to catch their breath, lowering her arms to her sides but ready to raise them up again if any of the fetchlings get any ideas about showing their gratitude in a touchy manner. "Now, maybe you could answer a few questions so my team and I can stop this from happening again in the future..." she suggests, waiting to see if the three seem open to the idea of speaking to outsiders before she continues. "Why do the townsfolk think your kind are responsible for the disease and the missing people, and what can you tell me about what's been going on?"
Median stays with the sheriff, trying to get him to articulate the facts rather than just his fears, so they can get down to figuring out what is going on.
Having just witnessed the irrational behavior of the sheriff, Irian stayed close by Median as she questioned the man. The fighter's posture was more relaxed than it had been when the lynching had been in full swing, but he felt it was unwise to take chances with a lunatic that wore a mantle of authority.
The fetchlings are quite panicked, and why shouldn't they be having just the hangman's noose by a rope? Still, the apparent arrival of a group sympathetic to their plight has a calming effect allowing one to eventually speak.
This fetchling lad, with his grey skin and slender form, takes his time to form his words, his relieved face streaked with the ash from one of the many fires in the town.
"We were just returning home after picking up some farming supplies at the general store. Honest. We were almost there too, to Shade Row, when Gray accused us. Almost all fetchling's live in Shade Row, we just happened to be in town at the wrong time..."
Eventually the woman speaks up, the soft yellow of her glowing eyes blinking as she looks up to you, not yet finding the strength in her legs.
"Please. I have a favor for you." she asks, a hint of the panic in her voice. "Could you check on our cousin Gavril? He's the only fetchling that actually lives in town, up at Boroi Manor. We'll offer whatever we can, food, a bed for as long as you need. But could you find if Gavril's alright?"
Median and Irian round on the Sherrif, who seems to struggle with his breath, the bulging neck seemingly wobbles with each heave of his large belly. Then you see the fog of his eyes start to clear, and he snaps up to look at you both.
"Can you help me find my daughter? She was just in the backyard, and then....then...then I couldn't find her...."
Of course we will do our best to help you. Can you tell us a little bit more about what happened?
Median watches the sheriff closely, worried that he is truly unhinged, and trying to treat him with compassion without endangering herself or her team.
Irian tried to force the Sheriff's irrational behavior into a corner, for now, instead trying to focus on what the man had to say about the disappearance of his daughter. That could definitely explain some of the man's behavior, the warrior reasoned. He remained quiet, waiting for Grey to answer and wary should the man suddenly become violent.
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Tish only just manages to suppress a violent full-body shudder at the fetchlings' offer of hospitality, thoughts of sliding between pox-infested sheets and eating food prepared by disease-carrying hands swimming unpleasantly through her head. It's enough to make her want to agree to do them this favor on the condition that they never put such horrifying images into her head by offering her room and board ever again. But rather than give a definitive answer either way, Tish probes for more information. "The Boroi Manor? We just came from there. Lady Boroi told us that her husband let the fetchling staff go due to the disease. What would your cousin still be doing there?"