"I'm not a local but I'm no stranger to these lands. Amongst those before you are those who are born and bred here. The local knowledge we have will hopefully be of aid in your investigations. Whether it's to supply this knowledge or perform some tasks we're ready to help."
The commander pushes up from the table and turns to welcome you, but it is clear upon her face that she is frustrated by the investigation's progress.
"When we crossed the river, I was reminded of why it's so important to depose the tyranny of the Consortium," Commander Odeber speaks wistfully. "I was reminded of the poverty and squalor that its indentured workers are kept in, the unseen chains that must be broken. That makes it all the more vexing that we have yet to turn up even a shred of evidence to use against them."
She shuffles some of the documents, arranging them into three piles and ensuring that they are lined up in uniform order.
"All the records and ledgers in this building are months if not years out of date. It is clear that these offices are but a facade. I am certain that Kreed kept the real records in his personal manor, under lock, key, and trap.
"I've assured the locals that we are here to maintain order during this time of transition. That is the truth, even if only partial, and it has served to mollify the townsfolk. However, I dare not send my soldiers into Kreed's manor, lest we discard what little goodwill we've won by apparently bullying his orphaned son.
"If there is one silver lining thus far, it's that this Boss Teedum is not nearly the adversary that Gavel Kreed was. It will be the only compliment I ever speak of the man, living or dead, but he was no mere thug. Kreed was cunning at hiding evidence of his misdeeds behind layers of obfuscation. Teedum possesses none of that cunning, as I'm sure you already know well. He can easily be goaded into making a mistake, I'm sure of it. It just has to be done before the Consortium can send a more competent agent up from Oregent to clean house, so to speak."
'We might have an in with the Kreed boy. It might make things easier if we can convince the boy to bring us those ledgers. If nothing else, maybe we can get him into a more wholesome household.' Dugan pauses for a moment, deciding whether to add the next bit or not. 'And your man tried to lock us in those caverns back there.'
"I'm guessing they are twisting the evidence we found so far into Kreed acting alone or being solely responsible... I shouldn't be surprised."
The commander's attention lingers when Dugan brings up Lieutenant Garibaldi's indiscretion, and she insists upon elaboration. Once she hears the account, she pauses with a heavy sigh.
"I will address the lieutenant's questionable judgment upon my return to Adamas, I swear. For now, let us focus on the matter at hand.
"Your local knowledge - and perhaps more importantly, your role as local heroes - does indeed present a golden opportunity. I would kindly ask you to speak with the Kreed boy, as you have suggested. Make no mistake, I do not relish the idea of drawing a grieving child into this affair, and I do not make this request lightly, but for how many people are depending upon us, I am certain that it is the right path.
"As for how they twist the evidence, you are not far from the mark. The magistrate has not yet delivered the documents requested, but I have seen his handiwork in the past. Whenever Gavel Kreed committed assault, murder, or other heinous crimes, the magistrate and the Consortium's other barristers twisted the legal code like flax to keep their man out of a cell. No doubt they've also striven to ensure that, when he eventually did fall, he could not take them down with him.
"However, knowing Kreed as the calculating villain he was, he likely kept enough blackmail material on his peers and superiors to also ensure that they could not depose or act against him. If that evidence yet exists in his manor, it could be invaluable in breaking the Consortium's stranglehold."
Ulark nodded, relieved that, for the moment, he wasn’t facing the noose for murder. That, and they would have a hand at making the town a better place. A place worth choosing to live in.
"I'll admit I'd rather delve into a pit of kobolds again than bother the boy but... if you think it's necessary then I guess we'll just have to do it."
”And if that doesn’t work, we could talk to some of the people in town. They may open up to us. The fear of the consortium is strong here. Because once the soldiers leave, that is when retribution will happen to those who cooperate.”
"I can't believe we're resorting to using children as pawns,
our morals are starting to sink as low as the Lumber Consortium and Mr Kreed himself."
"Do we truly need to involve the boy? Can we not simply search the Kreed manor without involving him?"
”How is it wrong? If he knows where any information is, it could lead to justice being done. If we break in, the chance of violence goes up. And the soldiers here can’t vouch for us either, lest they admit to authorizing us doing so. I’d prefer to minimize the chance of anyone dying needlessly.”
Joanne replies
"How it is wrong, it's wrong in that it'll scar an innocent boy even more then he currently is,
and by the group of people known to of killed his only living family member.
And if you think the boy is the only option for a Non-violent solution, you dead wrong.
There are other options; distract and search, divination, enchantments, and there are likely other ideas your not thinking of."
'I want to get the boy to a good family. That's it. The boy is already being used as a pawn to keep this woman from doing her job and rooting out these pricks.' Dugan sighs. 'Better to get him to safety before we go breaking into his house and roughing up his caretakers.'
Feeling stubborn Ulark replied ”I don’t know any enchantments, nor am I too good at sneaking. Don’t even know what divynation means.” Then at Dugan’s statement he sighed. ”Maybe we should split up. I could ask some of the loggers I know, see if I can loosen any tongues. Jo can work...I don’t know. Divynation the manor. And we see what leads to fruit.”
Joanne replies
"I don't know any divination or enchantment spells myself, though I can think of one that might know some, as there is a wizard in town.
And If I recall he's the father to one of the ones we rescued."
"I will not order you to approach the Kreed boy," Commander Odeber concedes. "You've reiterated many of the reasons why such an option weighed heavily on my conscience, and even raised some that I had not considered."
She stifles another heavy sigh before continuing.
"You are right - speaking with the loggers is another path, one far less fraught with moral gray. With Kreed gone, they may find their courage and be more willing to speak out against their abuses. They may even point us to the evidence we need."
"Then let us try a few options. Speaking to the loggers and to this wizardly resident."
"Loggers I'd say first but bare in mind that the Consortium has probably been twisting the events of the previous day to cast us as villains." [i]...and some people probably didn't need anyone to do that given Ularks green skin. "I wouldn't go anywhere alone until we have things more settled."
”So come with me to the cutyard, then. I know the place like the back of my hand. Where better to speak to those who have an axe to grind against the consortium?”
Ulark had spent most of his life in the cutyard. Since he was a small child, logging had been all he really knew. It was hard work, but it had made him grow into the strong man that he had become. The sounds of saws and axes were an unending fact of life there, be it while working or within one’s shack.
Ulark kept an eye out for any faces he knew. Any man who had complained to him about the consortium or whom he knew had been wrong. But even without that there were options. Everyone who lived there knew the signs of a logger who was fraying. Even the consortium knew that a man would go axe-mad if left in the yard too long. He just had to find the right people to talk to. People with enough information to point them in the right direction.
For the common loggers and millworkers of Falcon's Hollow, business continues as usual. With or without the Gavel, they trudge along with axe and saw to earn their coppers.
Your arrival in the cutyard evokes disparate reactions. The foremen scurry into the offices, out of sight. A few of the older loggers shy away, wary of the "axe-mad half-blood." However, the lion's share of men and women offer nods and proud smiles when they see Ulark and company march into the camp.
Ulark immediately flags down Ben Fulgore, a young buck who emigrated from Isger a few years back. Not the luckiest of men, he lost a leg when it was crushed beneath a falling oak in his very first cutting season. His crooked wooden replacement has done nothing to deter him, however.
Fulgore hobbles over quickly and speaks in a hushed but respectful tone.
"I'm very glad to see you, Mister Ulark." He pauses and looks around nervously before continuing. "I know I'm in no position to be asking favors, but me and the boys were hoping you could help us find Milon. We're worried Pay Day's done something to him for speaking out."
"As you suggest Ulark. We shall accompany you to this cutyard."
*************************
Micheo looks at the maimed man before him with a friendly face, but he wishes to follow Ulark's lead.
”Of course we will will find him. When was he last seen, and what did he do before he vanished? Any detail would be helpful in our search.”
"T'was yesterday. He was berating Foreman Stubbs, accusing him of turning the other men over to Pay Day," Ben explains. "See, Milon weren't the first to go missing. After you axed Kreed, after you left, folks got braver. They'd talk back to the foremen, refuse to pay camp fines and axe taxes when the 'regulators' came by.
"Then that Avin girl went missing. See, she thought you did the right thing, and she was talking about writing her cousin down in Almas and telling him about all the folks that Kreed killed. Then she disappeared. Pulk and Jeb went missing right after. Pay Day and his boys are making troublemakers disappear, I just know it!"
The sudden raising of his own voice sparks a pang of fear in Ben. He looks around to see if anyone is looking his way before he continues, hushing his words again lest he be the next to be taken away.
"I don't know if the others are still alive, but Milon's tough, and he was just here yesterday. He's gotta be alive still."
"Young man, we will do our utmost to rescue Milon. Do you have any idea where they may have taken him?"
"Unbelievable, I thought they were just brainless idiots who could only follow Mr Kreeds orders, seems they have a survival instinct."
"I...I don't know. I'm not sure," Ben stammers, worried for his colleagues.
"I know 'round the cutyard and the camps, folks would spin yarns about Kreed turning men over to either Bloodeye at the Rouge Lady or Old Vade in his tower. When I first came to town, they especially tried to spook me with those stories, talking about how one would torture folks and the other would experiment on them. Truth be known, they still do spook me."
Micheo racks his mind, trying to think of stories of these figures.
Micheo has not been in Falcon's Hollow long enough to recognize the two names mentioned by Ben Fulgore.
However, Ulark is familiar with them.
Sharvaros Vade is a local hermit who is the subject of more than a few rumors. He lives in an ugly, squat stone tower upon the Perch, keeping company with no one but his son, Savram. Most of the swirling rumors describe him as a wizard consorting with dark powers and performing unnatural experiments.
After thanking the man, Ulark said to his comrades ”Vade is harmless...probably. I’ve never believed the rumors. But the Redrock Guild? They’re real. Deadly real. And if anyone would profit from having something as corrupt as the consortium around, it’d be them. I would be surprised if they’re the ones calling the shots, now that I think about it. If we’re going to get any answers it’s probably with them. I just don’t know how we’re to do this. Any ideas?”
'Do we even know where they're holed up? And do we have any proof of wrong-doing they've done?'
"Yeah Kabran is a real pain in the donkey.
And in someways I think he is worse then Mr Kreed."
In reply to Dugan's question, Ulark and Joanne as locals, as well as Inconnu owing to his penchant for picking up information, can all attest that the Redrock Guild operates out of the Rouge Lady burlesque and gambling hall, owned by Kabran Bloodeye on the riverside docks.
Besides the obvious escapades that happen within this den of iniquity, it is an accepted part of life in the Hollow that this small criminal guild engages in extortion, blackmail, smuggling, and outright robbery. Of course, most folks are too scared to provide evidence or testimony against them - even if the local authorities had the power or inclination to act upon this.
"If good people are too frightened to even speak out against these villains, we must bring justice there ourselves.", Micheo says sternly.
”Agreed. I just hope you all know how to talk our way in. I’ve no experience with their ilk.”
"We'll just have to do our best. If we had the skills I'd suggest a less obvious means of entry even if it wasn't exactly legal. Now Ulark and Joanne ye are quite well known here and distinctive in appearance. Perhaps we can use that to our advantage, the rest of us head in and get settled. When you two show up it might cause a stir... could be a good distraction?"
”Works for me.” Ulark said. ”We’ll have to play it by ear. But that’s better than doing nothing.”
"If they refuse, we have means to force the issue. We have faced worse than their ilk."
'I reckon I'll be hard to remember considering I'm a bit more,' He raps on his cuirass with a knuckle 'shiny since most folks last saw me'
Rather than a temple dedicated to opulence, the Rouge Lady is more akin to an overgrown barn squatting upon the riverside docks. Nevertheless, the narrow windows are paned with glass - a rarity in the Hollow - and curtained with red cloth. A blind man might mistake the gambling hall for the sawmill, given the shrill grinding sound of a spinning saw, the wooden groan of chairs, and the cacophony of other sounds wafting out.
A single, broad-shouldered tough leans beside the door. He shoves a wad of chewing tobacco into his craw and begins to chew like a cow. Although it remains unclear whether he is a bouncer or merely an idle patron, he is the only body near the building's front.
Dugan strides purposefully towards the door, nodding a greeting at the man as he nears.
Ulark stayed back and watched, as per the plan. He hoped that it wouldn’t go south this early.
Micheo advances with Dugan, his head held high.
The tough offers a curt nod and a grunt in lieu of any spoken greeting. He eyes you warily, paying particular attention to your sheathed weapons, but offers no opposition to your entrance to the Rouge Lady.
Broad, unpainted tables dominate the gambling hall, and the waning afternoon finds a surprising number of uncouth men and even a few rowdy women huddled around the games of chance. Knuckle bones rattle against wooden boards, and a metallic whine fills the air as another player spins the large saw mounted upon a gambling table at the center of the floor.
A stark contrast to the bare wood left stained by spilled blood and alcohol, the far half of the Rouge Lady is draped in red satin. The few chairs and benches arrayed in front of the stage, flanked by lewd wooden carvings of nymphs and dryads, actually possess fraying upholstery. The stage remains empty for now, though, and the brass lanterns hanging over it are dark.
None of the gamblers and drinkers take immediate notice of your arrival, although the man at the bar counter pauses from pouring out thin ale to stand stock straight with fear when he sees who has entered. He keeps still for now, neither drawing any sort of weapon or offering any sort of cry.
Dugan beelines for the bar and waves down the bartender. 'Ale' He orders, he casts a glance back to any of his companions that follow him, willing to cover their tab.
"Ale.", echoes Micheo, also stepping up to the bar.
The bartender stands dumbfounded. When he can tear his eyes from Dugan and Micheo, they rove across the gambling hall, as though looking for some ally for support. He nervously pours the ale, his trembling hand spilling a bit upon the counter - although merely adding to the myriad stains upon its pine surface.
"I don't want no trouble," the bartender croaks, his voice tremulous with fear. "Bloodeye pays me to pour for him, not to bleed for him."
Micheo looks at the man sympathetically.
"Is Bloodeye here? We would have words with him."
Dugan snorts a laugh into his drink. 'Did I order a beating with my tankard? Relax, boy, we have no fight with you or anyone else in here.' He wipes foam from his beard 'Yet'
"No trouble for you, a few words with Bloodeye and a drink or two. Hopefully that's all you'll know of us for today."