"Thank you. We should keep moving. We're losing time."
However, Marikel pauses and studies Alicia.
"Hmm. If there was a spider down there, might there be anything else? Could someone check?"
Ali peers over the edge. "Torchlight and burning webs make for pretty good illumination."
She pauses, then looks up again to Marikel. "Oh! You want me to go down there??"
Nodding at Mahath, "Thanks, lad! I must confess, I've never felt so clean," he claims, grinning.
He then moves to look over the edge of the drop off. "Just water down there is all; I'd say about twenty feet give or take. No way for me ta tell its depth though without jumpin' in.
"Oh! You want me to go down there??"
Marikel shuffles nervously.
"Umm, could you? Please."
As Marikel stares beseechingly at Alicia, there is a sudden light splash, not from directly below but echoing from somewhere else in the cavern system.
"Hold. Let's check that out."
Marikel starts off towards the sound, shield ready and glowing sword aloft.
Due to the way the echoes bounce off the stone, it's hard to tell whether the splash came from behind the party or in front of it.
Marikel moves cautiously forward through the web room.
Marikel leads the way through the web-filled room. He has to stop a time or two before blundering through a web, but there are no more spiders, undead or otherwise, and no more sounds echoing through the cavern.
The party crosses back over the natural bridge over the water-filled chasm to return to the area where they first encountered the swarm of ghost rats. As Marikel raises his sword to illuminate the room, a voice comes from the darkened tunnel that leads back toward Sawyer's basement. It is an educated voice, an urbane voice. "That's just about far enough for now," it says. "I take it you're the priest and his company? We have some business to discuss. I presume you are interested in the girl's safety?"
The sullen blond rogue freezes in the shadows at the half-orc's voice. She glances back at Marikel, wondering what to do now.
Dorn narrows his eyes at the half-orc. "Jerk," he mutters under his breath. "I think we found who we're lookin' for, lad. Half-orc scum to be exact," he speaks plainly, unconcerned that the half-orc can hear him. "He's holdin' some type of grenade like object. Dresses well enough though for half-orc scum, I'll give 'em that."
Marikel stops and looks the half-orc over with obvious distaste.
"I am Marikel, servant of Iomedae, the Goddess of Justice," Marikel offers through narrowed eyes.
"You're in a bit of a trouble. You have to convince me that the girl is alive and unharmed and that she will remain that way only if I consider the word of a lying traitor. Otherwise, we're best to just bring you in as a criminal, dead or alive, for your crimes."
"Well, I do hope, for the girl's sake, that you're clever enough to be convinced. For your sake, as well. That's an awfully heavy thing to weigh on the conscience of a good priest: the fate of a child whom only you could have recovered. Or so I would imagine."
"Wouldn't you at least like to know what I'm asking for in exchange for her safe return? You might find my terms not quite so onerous as you expect."
In no way, shape or form does the dwarf trust the half-orc but he realizes a dead half-orc - this one specifically - would do them no good at this point. "Alright then, out with it. What are yer blasted terms?"
"Just a single item you may have found in the tomb. A simple rock that may have been in or near the skull of the remains. Anything else you've found, keep with my congratulations. You faced the dangers of the tomb, after all; you ought to profit from the expedition."
Narrowing his eyes, "Give us a second. We're gonna have ta discuss this amongst ourselves." Dorn then gathers the others - with the exception of Alicia - in a huddle. "Okay, why does he want the blasted stone? And do ya think we should give it to 'im? I think it's safe ta say, none of us trust 'im as far as we can throw 'im. Now havin' said that: What happens if we give 'im the rock and the lass is already dead? And what if this rock gives 'im some kind o' power we surely don't want 'im ta be havin'?" Sighing heavily in thought a moment, the dwarf simply shakes his head. "Blast I just don't know what ta do. What do you lads think?"
"Without time to really examine it, I can't say how dangerous it can be in other's hands." He looks to Marikel. "I know I would rather die than undermine the safety of the town above." His hand falls to hilt of his hopeknife as reminder of the expectations that locals are raised with.
Nodding in understanding, Dorn looks to Marikel. "What about you, lad?"
"Of course," Marikel speaks to the darkness. "How could we refuse a useless rock for a healthy and well little girl just around the next corner? Except you don't have the girl and we don't have a useless rock."
Marikel glances to the hopeknife at Mahath's belt and grinds his teeth.
"We're not giving you anything based on your word. Now me, I have a Goddess who watches my every move. Send the girl forward and I swear by Iomedae's name that I'll throw you your rock. But we're not dumb enough to trust you when she's likely already dead."
"You're right; I don't have the girl," the half-orc replies. "I'd hardly be keeping her safe by bringing her into a dangerous tomb. And then there's the awkwardness of the entrance to said tomb being in her family's basement."
"My associates crossed paths with the girl after her father sent her out of Trunau for her safety. She is still out of Trunau and still safe, to the best of my knowledge ... though I admit there is no clear evidence I can offer of the fact. My associates were tasked with keeping her well until I return with the stone. If I were unfortunately not to return -- because, for instance, you're either killed or imprisoned me -- well, that would be unfortunate for the girl, as well. If I return without the stone, she's still a bargaining chip, after all."
"You must see that it would be most unintelligent of me to allow her to die when I wasn't yet sure if the stone would be found or I could persuade you to hand it over. I am not a crude gambler, risking everything on a single strategem, as your own history must tell you. After all, if you hadn't discovered my team of prospectors and supply of black powder, the little girl needn't have come into the matter at all. I would have blown my own entrance into the tomb rather than being obliged to use Sawyer's."
"You shouldn't have killed Kerst. You set your own failure in motion," Marikel snarls.
"As you say, she's still a bargaining chip if we let you leave. You could bring her back to us. Outside the town, of course. We could meet again later. After all, we wouldn't want to lose our bargaining chip now either, would we? Why's it so important?"
"I make no attempt to defend the young man's death," Gorewillow offers magnanimously. "It was a regrettable situation all around, the desperate act of a reckless subordinate attempting to cover his own mistakes, and, as you say, has resulted only in inconvenience and setbacks for me."
"The stone is of no importance," he goes on, "but it is of value to the right person -- a person for whom I am an agent. You are familiar with the hill giant chieftan Uskroth? No? Well, there's no reason why you should be, unless you are a historian like my client. Uskroth was the chieftan of the Heart Eater tribe back in the forty-third century A.R. He managed to unite his people with the orcs of the Twisted Nail tribe and defeated the Knights of Lastwall on several occasions, even claiming territory south of the Kestrel River while the rest of the orcs of Belkzen couldn't advance beyond the Esk."
"He lost an eye early in his career, to a Lastwall arrow. His followers would have taken it as an evil sign and abandoned him, but he was clever enough to forestall them. He seized a rock from the ground and set it in his eye socket, saying that the very territory they were fighting for would guide him to victory. After that, his legend only grew. The story was that even followers who fell in his ranks would defy death itself to rise up and keep fighting."
"It didn't end well for Uskroth, of course. Eventually, the crusaders drove the orcs and giants back. Uskroth and his remaining Twisted Hearts, as the combined tribes came to be called, made their final stand on a convenient hill. It is said that when Uskroth finally fell, there were twenty-three spears and swords planted firmly in his flesh. His bodyguard drove the humans back long enough to bury him in the hill where he fell, before retreating back to their mountain home."
"And where," Gorewillow demands, "of all places, did a group of ragtag dirt-scratchers decide to make their own stand against the advancing orcs a few centuries later? The same hill as the Twisted Heart did. You can't tell me the gods don't have a sense of humor."
"At any rate," he goes on, "my client is an aficianado of Belkzen lore, with a particular interest in Uskroth. I was hired to discover his tomb, which had never been marked lest his enemies plunder it, and bring back the stone which had come to be known as Uskroth's Eye. My client will place it in a private collection, and I will be well compensated for my time and trouble."
Marikel wrinkles his nose.
"I'm sure a... patient and reasonable person such as yourself can see the value in bringing the girl to a neutral location for a simple exchange."
"Can a patient and reasonable person trust those with whom he is negotiating not to arrive at said neutral location with an army in tow?"
"Yer just gonna have ta trust us, half-orc scum! You want yer stone, we want the girl. Either ya take the deal or ya get nothin'. Or we can just kill ya now and you'll really get nothin'. I'm thinkin' yer life's pretty important to ya. Yer not strikin' me as a: 'Kill me if you wish. I don't care.' type. So what's it gonna be?!" he asks, arms crossed. "And be quick about it! We ain't got all day."
"As I stated before, your word is worthless. My goddess will see I keep my promises."
"Oh, you're quite right, friend dwarf," the half-orc chuckles, "quite an astute judge of character. Money is one thing, but my life is another. There will be other commissions, but it will do me no good if I'm not around to accept them."
"I have your word, then, priest?" Gorewillow asks Marikel directly. "This stays between just those of us here now in the tomb? No tricky loopholes like, 'Well, I won't invite along a squadron of soldiers, but my dwarf friend here didn't promise not to do so.' Swear by your goddess on your sword, and I'll believe you."
Marikel scowls.
"Do not take me for some Chelish politician. I swear by the Sword of Iomedae, you bring us the girl, alive and well, and we give you the stone, and there will be no betrayal on our part. But should you betray us, I will kill you before I try to save myself. I don't fear Pharasma's judgement."
Behind Marikel, Mahath nods in agreement.
How many people from town would have written her off, saying she was of age? These outsiders can show us a few things about compassion.
His hand relaxes and slips to his side, away from his hope knife.
"Very well then," Gorewillow replies crisply. "I suggest we all walk out of here together and explain our deal to the girl's father. I must return safely to my associates, after all, before the girl can return safely to the bosom of her family. You may inform your companions, dwarf," he goes on, "that I've put away my grenade."
Not thrilled at the idea at the lack of a possibility of being able to double-cross the half-orc, the dwarf rolls his eyes. "Alright alright, he's put away the stupid grenade. But I'm with the healer! You betray us, me and me bird will be comin' for ya directly!"
Marikel nods curtly.
"Fine. Let's move. This will take some explaining."
As Marikel moves tunnelward with his lighted sword, it reveals a half-orc dressed in well-made explorer's clothes and a broad-brimmed hat, which he doffs with a courtly bow. "Close enough to see me now, I hope?"
"I've already seen your heart. That's all I need."
Marikel strides past Gorewillow, exposing his back to the enemy.
Gorewillow falls in with the party as they re-traverse the old mining tunnel back to the Sawyer basement.
Marikel keeps his sword aloft as they travel, increasing his pace as they near the exit. He calls out as they approach.
"Hello? We've got some... progress."
Sawyer comes to the broken-through wall eagerly, holding up a lamp, but his eyes open wide with shock when he sees the group in company with Gorewillow. "You -- You're in league with him! You've been working with him all along!" he accuses.
Dorn looking at Baseil incredulously, "What are ya daft?! We're not in no blasted league with this one! But if ya want ta see yer daughter alive you'd best shut yer mouth and listen ta what's goin' on. Tell 'im, lad," he motions at Marikel. "Yer better at this than meself. Plus, I just want ta punch 'im in the mouth," he states plainly, rolling his eyes at the man.
Marikel steps forward.
"This... scum has assured us that should we kill him or fail to release him, your daughter will perish. We thought it a risk that you wouldn't want us to take. However, we have procured the object he seeks but we won't hand it over until we see your daughter alive and well."
Marikel narrows his eyes. "Mr Gorewillow is on his way to retrieve your daughter in exchange for the item."
"I've assured him there will not be any treachery. Do you understand?" Marikel asks through clenched teeth.
Alicia quietly shadows the group from the, well, shadows.
"I've yet to meet the man I can't do business with," Gorewillow remarks pleasantly, "including you, if you recall, Councilor. It's as they say: to retrieve your daughter, I have to depart from town safely, so it's in everyone's best interests to keep things friendly."
Sawyer's cheek twitches. "That... that... half-breed is the treacherous one," he hisses.
"Which is why we haven't given him what he wants until we see your daughter safe," Marikel patiently explains.
"Which is why we're going off my word, and not his."
"Very well, priest," Sawyer replies icily. "You're asking me to trust in 'your word,' and I have little choice but to do so. But if anything happens to my daughter because you've let this miscreant walk free, you should know that I will not rest until the church of Iomedae is drummed out of Trunau forever."
Dorn stands idly by with his arms crossed, listening. Shaking his head at Sawyer's words, he leans in towards Mahath, "You think it'd be alright if I punch 'im in the face now?" he asks somewhat rhetorically as he does consider it.
"I'm surprised, Councillor, that you'd stop attacking the Church just because we rescued your daughter. After all, the many other lives we saved in the battle haven't changed your mind. But still, I'm here to help your daughter, with or without your approval."
Marikel turns to the half-orc.
"When will you be returning with the good councillor's daughter? Do you need an escort out of town?"
"Two to four days," Gorewillow replies. "Remember," he puts in as Sawyer looks about to explode, "I have to get there and back again, and I'll be traveling with a child on the way back. I suspect you may know a certain cluster of rocks where I was to have retrieved a certain dagger? I'll send an associate to leave you a message there: when and where to make the exchange."
"As for an escort, I imagine the guard will be less selective about who they let out than who they let in ... and I made it in, after all. But you're welcome to accompany me, if it makes you feel better."
Marikel nods and turns to the Councillor.
"Would you rather I see him safely out to retrieve Zola, or would you rather I stay to be abused and threatened some more."
Alicia simply stays inconspicuously in the shadows, biding her time. Sawyer has to be behind it somehow--this must all be a trick!