"Fine," Braddon sulks, "but if I get possessed or killed I'm coming for you first."
He points an accusatory finger at Gristav.
"Then you," he points at Tendal.
"Then you," he points at Snake.
He looks to the others. "I expect you'll have run off by then, so the rest of you should be safe."
"Fine," Braddon sulks, "but if I get possessed or killed I'm coming for you first."
He points an accusatory finger at Gristav.
"Then you," he points at Tendal.
"Then you," he points at Snake.
He looks to the others. "I expect you'll have run off by then, so the rest of you should be safe."
"Please leave us time to avenge you. Me at least."
"And I suppose, Phillip."
"And, I never said you wouldn't be killed, only that it's not a ghost. I'm a ratiocinator, not a prophet."
Becoming aware of a degree of staring, Gristav gave the assembled a questioning look, asking, "What?", before following gaze or gesture to his own shoulder, and the butterfly that had fluttered up from behind and perched thereon.
"Aaah...", he stammered at it, astounded.
"Right?"
As Snake looks off in the distance, "At least I'm last."
Noticing Braddon's "look of excitement", hearing Tendal's complaint, internally complaining himself about how hot it is, combined with the mere idea of having to listen to Gristav for an extra two to three hours, "We're going through the boneyard. You hear that, Gether? The boneyard. None of us want to be on this heap any longer than what we've been."
"The Boneyard?! I thought this got all settled last night. No one goes through the Boneyard. Least-a-ways, I don't."
Argument avails nothing. Gether is willing to drop the party on the road to the Boneyard and let them walk into town from there but not to drive through it himself.
"At this point, walking would be better than the days that I will have to spend lying prone while someone removes splinters from my nethers. If Gether is unwilling to proceed further, then I am happy enough to utilize my legs for their purpose. Crippling myself by circumnavigation of cemeteries seems a meritless proposition." Tendal says, as he pours himself out of the wagon and regains his feet.
"Well, Gether is our charge. So... Mister Gether, if you won't, say, follow at a half-hour's delay... no?"
"Then, you'll rush to Lubberton, entering alone, under failing light? Don't ask directly for our lodgings, that may attract the wrong attention. We'll give you a nearby waypoint, you can ask for tha... no?"
"Then, you'll about-turn, and make your camp alone in the dark? Or, ride through the night? I'm trying to understand your plan."
"Would you be willing to wait stopped, before sight of the Boneyard, calling it a camp, until we returned? If this goes, some degree of well... well, I find, in the company of these men, we often carry far more away from a battle, than into it. We'd perhaps have business, for you and your cart. Or, if we found nothing, we'd all enter Lubberton together, tireder, later, Tendal, less bent by your boards - but you, at least, some degree richer?"
"How often are you asked to stand in one place, and wait, for gold?"
Gether has no interest in waiting for a rendezvous. "I contracted to deliver you to Riddleport; if you want to take the route through the Boneyard against my advice, that's your funeral. I'll take my pay now and wish you well, but that's an end to our agreement, as far as I'm concerned."
"There's a destination for the goods; they aren't there. I suppose your contract was actually with Phillip, so not mine to opine on. Perhaps you two finish that contract? His decision. Do take care, in any case: we're known to your household, we do want you home and well. And if I find carboys, and am headed your way?"
Snake shakes his head in irritation at the relentless Gristav and just hops out of the carriage, Lucky right behind him. Dusting himself off, he gives a simple nod to Gether and heads in the direction of the Goblin.
Braddon scowls at the cart and scowls at Snake, but reluctantly follows the latter.
"Why would a man pretend to be a ghost? That's just inviting misfortune. There's power in pretending. That's why all my lies are nice ones."
"We'll have you casting spells yet, Braddon! You've fae heart and fae logic, both. Just a matter of time, really..."
Phillip sighs at the departures before lowering his head by way of resignation to the decision made. Furnishing Gether with the required exorbitant fee, the halfling dis-carts.
The appearance of the rest of his promised payment does much to return Gether to his previous ingratiating mood. "I'm sure I thank you gentlemen very much," he simpers, tucking the coin away safely. "It's been a pleasure traveling with such refined folk." He keeps his horses' heads toward Lubbertown, apparently preferring to spend the night in civilization than camp on the roadside a second consecutive day.
Tendal, seeing the infernal cart and its master wheeling away suddenly feels much better. He takes a moment to straighten his trousers and adjust his cravat before turning to the others.
"Well gentlemen, I feel that today's light will only last for so long. Shall we be about our jaunt to visit the deceased?" Tendal asks lightly, waving his cane in the direction of the Bonyard's entrance.
"Any plan? A staggered approach? Archers in overwatch? Do we walk, blithe and bold, as if uncaring, and together? It was in darkness, yes, when last this 'Captain' put on his show? We'd have to dawdle some, to give him that same stage."
"What goals? To prove the truth of the ruse, yes? To find the puppet I suspect, based on the described ineffective arrows? We might do well to pretend to flee when the show is put on, and return shortly after, the magics having faded. Or to have a part of us spring the trap, and another part circle?"
"Perhaps Braddon feigns slumber, and I carry him, an offering to the 'Captain', while I ask of the lost ship Devil's Grail? Or you know, I'm the instigator, I'm willing to walk alone, ahead, and make first contact."
Stopping a moment and shaking his head, he turns his attention to Gristav and simply stares at the magus as he prattles on and on. Once it seems he's decided to stop for a breath, he turns his attention to Tendal and simply responds, "Yep," before continuing on in the direction of the boneyard.
Phillip watches Gether retreat to safe distance before allowing Gristav's words to wash over him like a wave breaking upon unmoving sea. Before Tendal and Serpe manage to move forward he raises a query of proposed pause of his own "A moment... if you'll indulge now that Gether is retreated back to parsnips and the banal. There are entities that make home within the Boneyard that outweigh the concern of Braddon's previous acquaintance..."
"Our quarry's been known to frequent and does so unchallenged. This means she's in league with at least one of the powers of note... the ratcatchers" pointed glance thrown Braddon's way "or the hermit Krooge... or perhaps even another hidden from knowledge except those with power vested in this soil. It's likely the ratcatchers were those to see Ethel's matron butchered and spread across her shop... so lets seek to not do the same."
"I would propose that if we're committed to this path... which I'd be yet hesitant to walk... we do so wary and caged. Eyes out, swords ready and naivety in pocket."
"Here is a man who thinks ahead.", Gristav praises Phil, walking West at a matchable pace. "That's two for some degree of caution, any third? Then it remains, to discuss details."
"I doubt we'll agree on any details...", Gris hushes to the fluttering friendthing, following the feyfarer.
"I think," Braddon pouts without irony, "that we should stick to the road and get home as fast as possible. I'll shoot anything that jumps out with my new bow."
Braddon prepares himself accordingly.
Wry smile lights Phillip's face, but not his eyes "And if safe and home were the desire we'd still be jarring a-cart. Stick feet to road, eyes to shadows and by all means... bow at ready."
"Very well. On the road as they expect, armed as they presume, alert as they have been shown to arrange, and presumably desire. What will we do differently, this time, compared to last? Merely, lack horses?"
"I propose that when they have deployed their magics, we retreat, and let the magics fade. Better than giving them whatever fight they've planned for."
"Or we might think of this more as scouting than travel, and let our quieter elements range ahead off the road-side, while the rest make a leisurely pace, in apparent naivete, but with weapons to hand? Perhaps, holy symbols and waters in hand, we might bolster these bluffsters' bravado?"
Gristav checks his arms as he walks. Staff in hand, bow slung loosely, quiver in reach. He doesn't think of the knife at his belt, not as a weapon, not often, and he completely forgets the silver blanche he carries, his staff being unsuited to its service.
The party sets out under their own power, glad at least to be out of the jostling cart and stretching their legs. The countryside here, as they approach the city, is more forested than that which they've already traveled through, and the occasional shade is a pleasant respite from the summer sun, which is now lowering enough in the west that they have to squint to look down the road they are traveling. Snake makes use of his wide-brimmed hat, and Gristav has yet another opportunity to regret the loss of his own.
The group emerges from the last wooded area as the eastern ridge of the Velashu River valley rises up ahead of them. To the left of the road, the land falls away quickly toward the sea; the masts of the rotting hulks of the shipwrecks in the Boneyard cast long fingers of shadow toward the trees thought which they have just traveled. Ahead, the sun shines blindingly through the notch of the Boneyard Cut, where the road bisects the ridge to enter Riddleport proper. A smudge of hazy black smoke marks the site near the Cut where the bonfire always burns near the site of Hyram Krooge's hut.
The road rises noticeably ahead of the group as it climbs toward the Boneyard Cut. If the group intends to enter the sodden garbage dump among the wrecks itself, the easiest route down would be at this end of the road, before it rises to the cliff off which refuse is dumped at the far end.
As the road rises, Braddon bends low and starts sneaking forwards, bow and arrow at the ready as if they might somehow serve against an ethereal menace.
Snake keeps a wary eye out, his morningstar in hand as they walk.
Phillip malingers towards the back of the group, uneasy to be walking into danger without plan, rhyme or reason.
"Braddon, take Snake, range ahead, and overwatch we other three from the woods at roadside. We'll keep to Phillip's pace or slower; that will explain the dawdle you'll need for stealth, and awareness."
"Snake, have you the magic for communication, taking whispers hundreds of feet? No? Hm. Then, let this flittering thing go with you. Should we lose sight, either team of the other, I feel sure, that he will know if I need him - I'm presuming, 'him' - and vice versa."
"Phillip, feel free to feel a stone in your shoe, as we approach. Were I lying in wait to carry word of our approach, I'd be just behind the top of that ridge, where I might spy and then rush away, my own motion hidden by it. Hidden, from the road. But not, from where Braddon and Snake might be. If we dawdle."
Grinning, Gristav closed, "Or, I'm also willing, to whistle and blunder...?"
Tendal pauses a moment, and moves his hands through his arcane passes, allowing glimmering chainmail to settle upon his shoulders, before fading into invisibility.
"I somehow doubt that our particular group will get waylaid." Tendal snorts, looking at the deadly serious expressions on his companions faces and weapons either already drawn, or hands resting purposefully on them. "If I were any sort of rapscallion with dire intent, I might look upon us and think, "Self, this might not be the best morsel to sink my teeth in today. I should probably wait for some other hapless individuals." I fear that we will simply have a quiet walk among these old ships." he finishes, sweeping his cane towards the various decaying hulks.
"Ah, but some dweller in this neighborhood thought to play at ghosts with a party four-fifths this size, all a-horse. Not to naysay your nayworry, for part of me hopes it true. Only part, though. I'd also like to see the matter settled in Braddon's imagination, for all I doubt it can be settled, bloodlessly. But, they chose the game."
"When one plays at the game of Ghosts... One might win."
"With the woods giving out, a second echelon no longer echoes erudition. So, all together, then. Into the hermit's den? Into town? Skulk and wait for dark, see what presents itself? Where was the previous encounter? Seems it was a success for them, I don't see why they'd change the location. With enough daylight, you may be able to prove, even without them, that it was all just a ruse."
"Lead on, Braddon. You've my every support. And from now, my silence."*
Braddon drops to the ground and crawls to the rise in the road before peering over. When he sees it's safe, he stands, waves the others forward and then sneaks his way carefully to the next rise to repeat.
He doesn't look too interested in leaving the road.
The party moves extremely slowly and cautiously down the road in Braddon's wake.
. o O (At this speed, Phillip could be the vanguard.)
"Town," the tall man simply says, following after Braddon. Shaking his head at the cautious, yet extremely slow, actions of the ranger, "Hey, bub, at this rate will be stuck out here in the middle of the night. If the ghosts don't get us then the gang of street thugs will - and I don't feel like dealing with those guys either. We've got to pick up the pace."
Having spent much of his early life around trading vessels, Tendal amuses himself while they walk by attempting to identify the various ships origins by the remains of their decking and rib spars.
"Hey, bub, at this rate will be stuck out here in the middle of the night. If the ghosts don't get us then the gang of street thugs will - and I don't feel like dealing with those guys either. We've got to pick up the pace."
"Fine! You go first then."
Braddon takes place behind Snake, bow still at the ready and follows the tall human. Snake suspects he is also being used as cover.
Watching the ranger move behind him, Snake turns back to the road and heads out at his normal pace.
"I'll go first. I've reasoned the ghost out of my list of fears, and I fear no man, while in the company of you worthies. Braddon also, fears no man, but appears unconvinced of the lack of ghost. I hope, to find him proof."
Gristav sets to his habitual distance-eating pace, with his staff taking up a sort of contact orbit about him, in one hand, or the other, rarely both, sometimes neither. Bolboretta is not discomfited by the usurpation of the space near Gristav, as the creature flutters, up and away, and forward...
Snake and/or Gristav lead the party across the Boneyard Cut without encountering anything, supernatural or otherwise.
Tension easing as they make it through the boneyard, Phillip pipes up with "Well... likely be worthwhile letting our erstwhile employer know we aren't dead nor have abandoned him."
The party passes through the notch in the ridge to find Riddleport laid out before them already in a puddle of shadow, all the gloomier for the contrast with the well-kept buildings of Windward District brightly illumined by the lowering sun atop the scarps to the west. Still, down in the town, particularly in Leeward District, glimmering twinklings from windows and street lights give the place a homey and welcoming cast.
They walk down into the shadow of the valley and take the road through Leeward Common. Most of the farmers have already packed up their fresh goods and headed back to the countryside, though a few locals are still sitting hopefully near their stands. They pass the impressive dome of the Mystery of the Gate before turning left toward the Gold Goblin. A sense of homecoming mingles uncomfortably with the knowledge that their jaunt to Roderic's Cove has not borne the fruit for which they had hoped. The Goblin looks dark as they approach, only the windows to Saul's suite of rooms upstairs presenting a twinkle of light to the outside world.
"Hmm..." Tendal stops for a moment in the middle of the road, then motions to the others. "Gentlemen. I do believe that we should be circumspect in our arrival at the Goblin. It may behove us to utilize the rear entrance as the Goblin seems to be a bit quieter than I would expect for this time of day. To be precise, I am concerned." he finishes, then quirks an eyebrow at the others.
And now I am doubly glad that I have layered on magical armor.
Snake stops and studies the Goblin a moment, "Yeah I don't like it either," before bringing upon himself magical armor. Narrowing his eyes, "The back door it is." Snake then proceeds toward the back door at a more cautious pace, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious.
"Why is nobody ever happy to see us?"
Braddon unsheathes his swords and makes his way carefully around to the back door, peering carefully around corners before rounding them himself.
"Why is nobody ever happy to see us?"
"How often do people meet the group of us, and not have some of them dead, afterwards? Justly, perhaps? But, even so, I would not be glad to meet us."
Braddon unsheathes his swords and makes his way carefully around to the back door, peering carefully around corners before rounding them himself.
Electing Stave-and-Ray over Bow-and-hope, and guessing at readied crossbows and spells behind, Gristav falls into Braddon's shadow, and recalls a page, from Tendal's text...
The butterfly, perhaps scenting adrenalin or spellplay in the air, flutters about the entire group, before settling on Gristav, who has his key in the lock as it lands...
The party slips down the alley behind the Goblin with extreme caution and quietly unlocks the kitchen door. The interior is dark and quiet. The kitchen is a mess, uncleaned dishes and utensils left spread over the tables, along with several empty bottles. A few days' worth of baskets from the bakery sit among the detritus, partially picked through but mostly going stale.
"MY PAY!!" Braddon thinks in alarm.
Braddon stalks carefully towards the vault thanking his mother for his elvish eyes as he navigates the shadows.
Tendal follows Braddon, eyes alert for any threats.
"This looks like folks left in unseemly haste." he muses quietly. "I think we should remain on guard."
Stalking in at the tail Phillip mouths quietly "Sh1t..." before moving forward with more pace towards his quarters... not entirely sure what might be found.