Lacking the necessary skills to know what the sign might be, Celyne merely waits for the others to be ready to move on and head back to Oleg's.
"Yeah, I guess the Stag Lord did paint there symbol here. Look at the head amulets. I thought I saw some thugs wearing those once."
Also waiting with Celyne to move on, Alia takes some time to scratch Luna behind her ears, figuring even if she is somewhat tame, it's always good if the Tiger knows the smell of it's friends in the heat of battle-
"I would not disturb the body by moving it. That could be the trigger condition for a magical trap...since they somehow made sure scavengers don't touch it, but left it in a prominent location, I would assume it was expected the body would be found...and if the staglord is opposed to this guys friends, what easier way to deal with some more of them. If you absolutely want to try and bury him, lets place a rope around the body loosely, then let a horse pull him away from a safe distance away. If nothing blows up, we can bury him. If he blows up, we saved some guys opposed to the staglord. Either way, we can then get on our way to Olegs, finally, before we lose any more time."
[dice=kn religion]15
"I would not disturb the body...."
"I would not disturb the body...."
Leaving the mysterious ring and its morbid inhabitant behind the party travels through the forest's foot hills until those hills break upon the gently rolling plains past the Narlmarches's edge in the late afternoon.
From there the going is much easier and the party tramps into twilight before setting camp on the prairie.
The night is cold but uneventful. The winds blow most of the clouds away and the Dawnflower smiles upon you in the morning. By midday you see Oleg's Trading post upon its hill.
The gates are open and there's a bit of a hubbub going on in front of the stable. Oleg, guard captain Kesten Garess, a grave middle-aged man in a green cassock and a flamboyantly attired halfling woman stand opposite a large carriage hung with all manner of brick-a-brak (colorful pennants, wicker baskets, pots, pans, wooden shields, sconces, lanterns, a pair of pole-arms, and rapiers, a sailing ship wheel, barrels and chests). One of the carriage's two horses stands tethered to the front. The other has been pulled aside, a pair of figures suggestive of bound and wrapped humanoids slung over the creature's back. The assembly seems to be discussing the wrapped figures.
Celyne walks up to Oleg and the others, and smiling, asks "What's going on? Clearly we've arrived back at an interesting moment to be sure."
"These two here found a pair of bodies up on the South Rostland Road."
"Jhod Kavken." The man introduces himself and offers a hand. "Looks like 'twas bandits that did it."
Celyne hesitates for only a second before taking his hand... Celyne, and it was very good of you to bring them here. What makes you think it was bandits? Did you see any of them about? or signs of their presence?"
"An audience!" Peeps the halfling.
She bounds up into her cart. One wooden side the thing collapses down to form a small stage on to which she cartwheels. From somewhere unseen you hear the sound of an audience clapping and cheering. She stops, bows appreciatively doffing her hat, and then with a dramatic wave of her hand silences the unseen crowd.
Ignoring the distraction as best he can.
"Well, they ain't have nothing on them--'cept splashes of white paint made to look like a stag's head. One of was hangin' over the road, from a tree and then the other--" He trails off looking at Celyne. " I wouldn't advise lookin' ma'am."
Celyne can't help herself and glances over at the bodies... wondering if the white painted stag's head is the same as on the body at the stone circle. She inadvertently looks at the other as well in passing.
Oleg warns his wife away. She stays near the door to their home.
Celyne can't help herself and glances over at the bodies... wondering if the white painted stag's head is the same as on the body at the stone circle. She inadvertently looks at the other as well in passing.
The longer bundle seems to be the unfortunate you saw from afar when returning this way from Bokken's and the spider prairie (though he looks and smells worse for the added exposure), the other, a young woman by her shape her fine cloths all torn, her flesh spoiled by scavengers is missing her head as you can tell when you hand comes into contact with the weeping, black stump of her neck.
Everyone in the vicinity looks visibly upset by the revelation, including Esme--though it might more because of the obvious dampening of her audience's enthusiasm for her tumbling skills.
Celyne grimaces, shakes her head... "Poor woman."
Alia will walk to someone of her new group not seeming occupied: "Is it always so busy here? I thought that was an out-of-the-way post?"
After hearing a bit about Olegs(), she seems a bit lost.
Not interested in seeing more bodies(the last days provided more of those than she wanted), Alia instead keeps her eyes on the halfling acrobat, but she seems absentminded.
More dead. The bandits in these lands are a serious problem. So that is what happens when civilization fails, when people return to being beasts. If wolf attack the sheep, it's up to the shepherd to protect them. And if wolves need to die before they learn, the shepherd will not weep for them.
"We should get these people in the ground then, no need to upset others further, let them rest properly. Do you know of a suitable place good Oleg.? Assuming investigations have finished?
"An audience!" Peeps the halfling.
She bounds up into her cart. One wooden side the thing collapses down to form a small stage on to which she cartwheels. From somewhere unseen you hear the sound of an audience clapping and cheering. She stops, bows appreciatively doffing her hat, and then with a dramatic wave of her hand silences the unseen crowd.
Posh, seeing this young halfling and hearing the sound of an unseen audience goes to introduce himself.
"A fellow performer I see." he smiles and puts out his hand. "My name is Posh. I came from the River Kingdoms. And you are?"Celyne grimaces, shakes her head... "Poor woman."
Posh joins Celyne after a while and, though disturbed, does not appear to be as disturbed as everyone else.
"This is vile. Who or what could've done this?" he asks as he looks over the body.
to discern what marks were made by scavengers
For any other hidden marks or possible suggestive markings.
Scarlet spends the days traveling observing different rocks and juggling some of them. When she reaches Oleg's Post, she is the first to walk up and shake hands. "Name's Scarlet. Good to meet you, Oleg. What's this about bodies, Jhod?"
She turns and looks at the two bodies. "Hmpf. It's all fun and games until you kill someone. This Stag Lord is gonna get it." While her face remains stoic, her face reddens a bit before she deeply exhales.
"Well, the good news, Oleg. You won't have to worry about Kressle anymore. Cyrielle said she would take her and her cronies back to Brevory to receive their punishment."
"We should get these people in the ground then, no need to upset others further, let them rest properly. Do you know of a suitable place good Oleg.? Assuming investigations have finished?"
"Ah, yes. We should get started on that. Do you have a shovel? Tell me where to dig and I'll make some room. We should let them rest."
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"Well, they ain't have nothing on them--'cept splashes of white paint made to look like a stag's head."
"Pardon me, but we haven't met. I am Numalar Auritonius, of Valdralee. My companions and I were chartered to explore the hands hereabouts and suppress the bandit activity here. Perhaps Mister Leveton here told you of us?"
"Pray tell, how did you come across these? What were you doing when you found them? What is your business normally?"
"Looks like 'twas bandits that did it."
Numalar looks over the stag markings. This is more than robbery. This is meant to instill fear in the populace. Well, let's see if we can turn that on its head!
"Perhaps... though I have heard something strange lately, from a reliable source. Though we have taken out two of the Stag Lord's raiding parties, apparently we are not the only ones hunting the Stag Lord's minions. Supposedly there is a mysterious group called the 'Greencloaks' - probably made up of angry locals who don't want to be identified - who waylay the Stag Lord's men when they can. They leave marks on the bodies to indicate that this was a servant of the Stag Lord, and to show what happens to such people. The Stag Lord should be afraid."
Posh, seeing this young halfling and hearing the sound of an unseen audience goes to introduce himself.
"A fellow performer I see." he smiles and puts out his hand. "My name is Posh. I came from the River Kingdoms. And you are?"
"Esme. Esme Highspire, I am a tragedian of the love, blood, and rhetoric school out of Pitax." She says with flourish and then after a moment's thought adds. "Though I suppose I can do you blood and love without the rhetoric, and I can do you blood and rhetoric without the love, and I can do you all three concurrent or consecutive, but I can't do you love and rhetoric without the blood. Blood is compulsory—they're all blood, you see." She finishes in a manner somewhere betwixt fiendish and sagely.
Posh joins Celyne after a while and, though disturbed, does not appear to be as disturbed as everyone else.
"This is vile. Who or what could've done this?" he asks as he looks over the body.
"Cyrielle said she would take her and her cronies back to Brevory to receive their punishment."
"I can lend you a couple of men for prisoner detail if you need them. Also you might want to get word to Magister Lebeda about your routing a significant band of outlaws. I'm sure once the Magister sees your results he, and his accountant, will shine the blessings of Abadar upon you."
"We should get these people in the ground then, no need to upset others further, let them rest properly. Do you know of a suitable place good Oleg? Assuming investigations have finished?"
"Sure out on the prairie, under a nice big tree." He grabs a couple of shovels from the stable and when Scarlet introduces herself he shakes her hand and afterward hands her one of the shovels.
"My first official duty in this land's a grim one it seems. I'll preside over the burial, if that's alright." The man pulls from his cassock the very symbol you were discussing not two day before--the downcast antler bow of Erastil. "Mr. Auritonius, I am here to lend Erastil's strength and wisdom to these lands and all the good people in 'em."
Numalar looks over the stag markings. This is more than robbery. This is meant to instill fear in the populace. Well, let's see if we can turn that on its head!
"Perhaps... though I have heard something strange lately, from a reliable source. Though we have taken out two of the Stag Lord's raiding parties, apparently we are not the only ones hunting the Stag Lord's minions. Supposedly there is a mysterious group called the 'Greencloaks' - probably made up of angry locals who don't want to be identified - who waylay the Stag Lord's men when they can. They leave marks on the bodies to indicate that this was a servant of the Stag Lord, and to show what happens to such people. The Stag Lord should be afraid."
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"Mr. Auritonius, I am here to lend Erastil's strength and wisdom to these lands and all the good people in 'em."
Numalar smiles upon seeing the holy symbol. "Surely, I am glad to hear it. These people around here need a sense of community, and hope that things can change for the better. I am honoured to meet you."
Numalar looks Jhod over. "Where did you receive your training? Do you hail from hereabouts?"
"Also you might want to get word to Magister Lebeda about your routing a significant band of outlaws. I'm sure once the Magister sees your results he, and his accountant, will shine the blessings of Abadar upon you."
"Good thinking, Sir Kesten. I will compose a letter explaining the situation to him."
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The other (basic) wooden crates contain furs and hides."Aha! No doubt these are the trade goods that were extorted from Master Oleg. They are his property so I feel we should return them to him."
"Master Oleg! On the subject of the Stag Lord, when we took the bandit camp we found these." Numalar points to the crates strapped to the horses. "They are furs and hides, and since you told us that the bandits had taken such things from you, I assume they are your property, and we are happy to return them to you."
"It is my intent to write Magister Lebeda explaining the situation with these prisoners. Perhaps at some point, after the burial perhaps, I wonder if I could trouble you to give me a statement of some kind? Regarding the former misconduct of Kressle in particular, and her henchmen as well. Especially if you recognize any of these others. Some suitable testimony to indict Kressle and the others as bandits in the eyes of the law."
Posh, seeing this young halfling and hearing the sound of an unseen audience goes to introduce himself.
"A fellow performer I see." he smiles and puts out his hand. "My name is Posh. I came from the River Kingdoms. And you are?""Esme. Esme Highspire, I am a tragedian of the love, blood, and rhetoric school out of Pitax." She says with flourish and then after a moment's thought adds. "Though I suppose I can do you blood and love without the rhetoric, and I can do you blood and rhetoric without the love, and I can do you all three concurrent or consecutive, but I can't do you love and rhetoric without the blood. Blood is compulsory—they're all blood, you see." She finishes in a manner somewhere betwixt fiendish and sagely.
Posh joins Celyne after a while and, though disturbed, does not appear to be as disturbed as everyone else.
"This is vile. Who or what could've done this?" he asks as he looks over the body.
"I see so you spent your time in Pitax? What has brought you to this wild and untamed land?" Posh asks casually "There are no cities here so I do not see how there can be anything of interest out here for you."
"Unfortunately no at this moment, we shall keep looking though
Zokon looks at Numalar innocently and winks.
Then Zokon grabs the shovel and takes the bodies out and buries themm allowing for Jhods services.
Wordlessly, Alia takes one of the shovels. They are all busy with one thing or another. So much activity here.
Having focused on the Halfling Artist, after Posh speaks to her, she also comes closer:"Yes, it would seem there is little audience to be found here, and the roads seem dangerous!", pointing the head of the shovel towards the 2 bodies, "I understand the priest, and the guards, but what brings you out here into this frontier land?"
Scarlet puts a lot of effort into digging. Once Oleg points out a spot, she's pretty eager to learn about the soil, its composure, how soft it is, and how quickly it will compact. Her body continues to dig but her mind only returns to the task at hand when she sees the bodies.
"Oleg. I hope we can capture the Stag Lord. He's trying to leave his mark everywhere. We stopped his cronies, so you can breathe a sigh of relief for now."
I'm going ta bury this Stag Lord. But keep it cool Scarlet. Remember what your boss said. Keep te locals happy and that's half the battle.
** spoiler omitted **
It's a beautiful blue sky day.
Oleg leads the horse and its burden up to a nearby hill about a quarter mile away from the trading post. You can see whichever guardsman it is up on the post's wall walking his rounds. Upon the hill sits a single tree flush pink with spring flowers. From here you it looks like you can see the whole sweep of the green-gold plain.
Once the hole is dug. Jhod palms his worn travel copy of the Parable of Erastil in his calloused hands and (as he will repeat later) makes with the sermon. He never opens the book once. He says he sees no use in the people's deaths, 'especially folks so young' and he wishes them well in their reward in Pharasma's realm. Jhod promises they will be disturbed no more under the beautiful tree and that the land and her people will not forget them.
When he finishes he turns to you puts his hand on your shoulder and says quietly: "Did you have anything ta say?"
Scarlet puts a lot of effort into digging. Once Oleg points out a spot, she's pretty eager to learn about the soil, its composure, how soft it is, and how quickly it will compact. Her body continues to dig but her mind only returns to the task at hand when she sees the bodies.
"I've played for bigger audiences to be sure," she says sizing you all up from her stage. "But quality counts for something, I'm sure.... And how would we have ever met if I had never come."
She pulls a small bugle off the carriage and belts a tuneless blast through it that includes no small amount of trail dust.
"Times being what they are, I can do you a selection of Chelish or Taldan romances, for the cost of a melody." She brushes her high boot against an iron cooking pot on the corner of the stage. "There can be music in even a single coin--be it gold."