Simeon looks equally sour as he says to Hearthmount "Zokar's press ganged us into judging at the faire. You are to 'swear us in'."
He looks very unamused. He spots the letter in your hand and holds his hand out for it.
I assume that is from Master Elkarid?, he sniffs pompously. He always did have a strange sense of humor but in this case? He may well be inspired. Very well... we must consider young Kendra.
Well. Its a rather formal post in fact - we've had fights break out over this before including quite a brawl about sixteen years ago. We introduced the role of 'Judge', formalised it in fact, the very next year. Fortunately the number of judges changes year on year - having had nine judges for the initial year the institution was set up.
He indicates that you should wait while he disappears inside. He returns with a box a few minutes later. Within are a number of copper medallions hung on somewhat frayed, aged and food spotted ribbons.
Take one and hold up your right hand...
Baradlon does as he's told, placing the medallion over his neck and holding up his right hand.
Jaru nods toward the raised voices, "Brethren, what is going on? Let me be of assistance."
Its Father Grimburrow - he insists on heading out and looking for Professor Lorrimor himself but he's also insisting that our baking also hits the tables at the Faire... and that the benediction is covered... and that the place is cleaned and ready for service... and...
The pair of them seem quite overwhelmed.
They seem to note your garb and bow their heads slightly in deference.
Anything you can do Father is appreciated - he's in back with the Senior Acolyte.
Simeon takes one of the medallions and turns it over in his hands, noting it age and unkempt condition. Looking up at the councillor with a skeptical look on his face, Simeon shrugs then slings the ribbon over his head.
Holding up his right hand, he announced "I'm ready."
Jaru holds a hand up to quiet the harried priests, "I'll return in a moment." He quickly finds Father Grimburrow.
The councilman swears you in with a grave solemnity.
He then has you add your names to a leather bound ledger under the page "Honoured Judges".
With that done he shakes you each by the hand.
The role comes with some prestige and unspoken privilages - pray, treat your office with some dignity. Its about 9am. Your initial role is to act as greeter, shake hands and welcome everyone to the event. 'Press the Flesh' as it were. In about an hour we'll strike a bell and the cooking will start. Your job will be to move around the village - some are cooking in their homes, some are cooking in the square. Your badge allows you access with a knock to any competitors hearth. A competitor signals their participation with a blue cloth or flag hung by the door. You may ask any questions about their dish and what to expect and the preparation of the dish - and its expected you will ask polite questions. Its also expected that the competitors, and their families will be polite to you.
Around half to midday another bell sounds and the people start their finishing preparations. At Midday, a third bell. You are then to take up position on the Gazebo where you will be served, along with the Council leaders.
He smiles.
We'll eat a sample from each dish and you will rate each out of five by placing pebbles in a pot, and after that? Everyone eats! Once the feasting is done, the results are announced and the coveted ribbons are awarded.
After that we generally rest until 'Leftover Dinner' and the town dance. Its called 'Left Over Dinner' but given how hard it is to cook for so many and that there are now rarely that many left overs, the town has also purchased an Ox to serve for that but your position of honour lasts until midnight - with all the respect that entails - return your tokens of office tomorrow.
Questions?
Jaru holds a hand up to quiet the harried priests, "I'll return in a moment." He quickly finds Father Grimburrow.
You find Father Grimburrow in the Vestry, clad awkwardly in leather armour - staff in one hand and walking stick in the other, looking impatient and angry.
The figure of the senior acolyte brushes by you as you enter.
Ahhh - we meet at last, the priest says in a crotchety tone. Kendra has told me your name at least. Father Jaru Toth, late of the sandy Osirion. What can I do for you Father?
He is brusque but he carefully ensures the proper title is applied to you.
Baradlon hadn't realized there would be so much socializing involved in the role of being a judge. He'd assumed they'd just pass judgement on the food. He frowns mightily, unable to imagine a less pleasant day than one that involved pressing the flesh and polite questions.
Jaru bows deeply, "It is an honor to meet you, Father. I was going to ask what I could do for you. As I am sure you can imagine, the violation of Professor Lorrimor's grave was a deep blow to me. I certainly appreciate that you have made it a priority to recover his remains. Let me know how I may best be of service to you in righting this blasphemous crime."
Lament follows the others preparing to greet the townsfolk coming to the cook off. She turns on her charm and works the crowd.
Greeters, home visits, and a town dance on top of judging the food? This should make for an interesting day....
"We're to act as greeters first, correct? Where would be the best places to position ourselves for that?"
Head into the town square first then walk the town greeting those on the streets and look for the blue cloth that marks competitors - knock politely and enter.
He proves to be a decent reader of people and guesses at the cause of Baradlon's frown. Its a serious task but don't you use that face when you are doing it - if this isn't your sort of thing, then fake it until you retire for the night but know this - the decisions you make and the way you manage your task will be talked about for decades!
Jaru bows deeply, "It is an honor to meet you, Father. I was going to ask what I could do for you. As I am sure you can imagine, the violation of Professor Lorrimor's grave was a deep blow to me. I certainly appreciate that you have made it a priority to recover his remains. Let me know how I may best be of service to you in righting this blasphemous crime."
Father Grimburrow gives you an approving smile.
It seems, younger brother, that are of one mind.
He barks a few instructions through the door, that the senior acolyte do the lunch time benediction and that the juniors get moving on the baking.
He gives Jaru a smile.
We compete in the Faire too - it makes us more part of the community. Our specialty is Pharasma's Spirals... its a sweet dough desert with honey and nuts - never wins but its important to participate... which is why you are here I believe.
His smile vanishes.
To business! I am going out on the wilds to find out where they've put Petros and look for smoke in case they've tried to burn him instead. And NO ARGUMENTS on if I am too old or not! If you want to come you can come.
His walking stick looks more like a club but it serves double duty and his fingers tighten around it as his straightens his old frame.
Jaru's bald head bobs with eagerly, "I will most certainly join you, Father. I was actually hoping to work with you on this investigation. As a newcomer here, I would not know where to start at best and at worst I might break some local taboo. I am at your service and if you don't mind perhaps you can fill me in on the history of the town and anything you might know of Professor Lorrimor's demise." Jaru makes a spiral over his chest after mentioning the unfortunate event.
Jaru's bald head bobs with eagerly, "I will most certainly join you, Father. I was actually hoping to work with you on this investigation. As a newcomer here, I would not know where to start at best and at worst I might break some local taboo. I am at your service and if you don't mind perhaps you can fill me in on the history of the town and anything you might know of Professor Lorrimor's demise." Jaru makes a spiral over his chest after mentioning the unfortunate event.
Good - you are wise enough to know your place and to show proper respect, strong enough to be passionate about this desecration.
You are welcome Brother, he says in poorly accented though passable Orsinani.
He sets off at a slow but relentless pace, never stopping or pausing his step even when drinking from a leather canteen. He leads you past the Restlands and away from the hill where the brooding ruin of the prison sits over the town.
Lets not waste time - we can walk and talk but keep your eyes roving. I think it was Gibbs or his bone headed friends and they are too lazy to carry anything far. If it hadn't of been a wet night they'd like as not tried to burn him... if we don't find him here, we'll try down the river banks next in case they've thrown him in the river.
He asks about you and your parish and what brings you here but he also shares somewhat about the town and himself.
T'was me that lit the fire under young Lorrimor you know. I had myself a mid life crisis and went 'Monster Hunting'. He and I shared similar academic interests and moved in the same sort of circles in Ardis, the old capital of Ustalav. He was fool enough to ask me the wrong sort of questions and more curious that cautious and before you know it, we and a few others were striding the byways smiting evil.
In the end I was a little to outspoken - got a bit big for my britches as they'd say here - and was given this little parish to care for. They're a bunch of small minded knuckle heads but they're mine. They've been oddly out of sorts the last few days - hopefully this Faire will put them right.
He looks at you directly though doesn't slow his pace.
There is a lot of value in these community events, silly though they seem and they give a person a feeling of belonging, lets them reconnect with themselves and helps them bear up strong as they move through this life. He gives a brief chuckle. With everyone here from all the farms? We may even start a few new lives tonight with that little celebration.... ah to be young again!.
Lament follows the others preparing to greet the townsfolk coming to the cook off. She turns on her charm and works the crowd.
Lament seems to show the way it should be done, greeting each person with a jaunty smile and a halflings almost genetic interest in the art of cooking. Though folks here are not used to her strange appearance her natural warmth shines through and they slowly thaw, respect for the office and that copper disc being the break that was needed.
Even Gibbs, now lazing around the town square gazebo, Old River by his side (and being given the mother of all tummy rubs) gives you a hard look but follows it with a respectful nod and maintains silence on seeing your badges of office.
.
Baradlon follows Lament around smiling at people. His smile is that of a predator looking at a small prey animal. But he's wise enough to keep his mouth shut. He simply smiles and nods when appropriate, answering any questions with "yes" or "no". However, he does do his duty, and politely asks the ingredients and preparation method of each dish they come across.
"I have been with the church in Osirian since I was a young boy. I was trained to assist the Sisters in healing and childbirth. There was an incident though-, " Jaru looks rather pale and licks his lips. "A man afflicted with ghoul fever. I was a child and knew little of the undead, but I still feel responsible. It was horrible- I uh, would rather not speak on it."
"After... I was rather traumatized and was sent to Sothis. That's where I met the Professor. He gave me some hope to fight the undead so that such an event might not happen again. I ended up working in administration instead, at least until his letter beckoned me here. It was coded and mentioned danger, but nothing specific. If it is fated, I hope to be of use here."
"Can you tell me more of this ruined prison? That is where the Professor perished, correct? Is it dangerous? I have been told it is even illegal to go there."
Lament thoroughly enjoys the trips from house to house. As the people of the city begin to warm up to her, she comes out of her shell more and more. She questions each cook on their ingredients, often asking for a small taste, and acts excited as they explain why the chose the certain herbs and spices. She laughs and jokes with each contestant while ending each visit with a heartfelt thank you for allowing the judges to be guests in their homes.
Seeing Gibbs, she gives him a warm smile and hearty wave showing no hard feelings for their previous encounter. "There is going to be some good eats this afternoon Lord Gibbs! Be sure to come with a good appetite." The knowledge of Gibbs time in military obviously changed Lament's attitude towards him.
Lament thoroughly enjoys the trips from house to house. As the people of the city begin to warm up to her, she comes out of her shell more and more. She questions each cook on their ingredients, often asking for a small taste, and acts excited as they explain why the chose the certain herbs and spices. She laughs and jokes with each contestant while ending each visit with a heartfelt thank you for allowing the judges to be guests in their homes.
Seeing Gibbs, she gives him a warm smile and hearty wave showing no hard feelings for their previous encounter. "There is going to be some good eats this afternoon Lord Gibbs! Be sure to come with a good appetite." The knowledge of Gibbs time in military obviously changed Lament's attitude towards him.
He gives you a neutral nod again, still petting the dog. Both he and the dog seem happy together.
Him and Old River - two friends as tight as you could ever see but still living apart. That dog wouldn't live anywhere else other than that Gazebo and Gibbs, well, he's a hard one but he wouldn't do a thing to make that dog feel amiss. So they live apart... , one of the farmers says, noticing you yelling over to him.
Simeon groaned inwardly when he heard that part of thier duties was glad-handing all of the locals....vision of interminable university mixers and socials sprang to his mind, tedious affairs all.
Taking a deep breath, he joins the others in greeting the people, his face composed and neutral, his greeting polite and formal; hiding his dismay and boredom.
Following along in Lament's shadow, he tastes a few soups, asks after a few ingredients, generally adopta an air of quiet inteterst.
Aid Another
"I have been with the church in Osirian since I was a young boy. I was trained to assist the Sisters in healing and childbirth. There was an incident though-, " Jaru looks rather pale and licks his lips. "A man afflicted with ghoul fever. I was a child and knew little of the undead, but I still feel responsible. It was horrible- I uh, would rather not speak on it."
Old Grimburrow goes silent and angry when you talk about ghouls. Maybe he is judging you or maybe there is something else.
"Can you tell me more of this ruined prison? That is where the Professor perished, correct? Is it dangerous? I have been told it is even illegal to go there."
Illegal? Aye - tis that. Thats been a standing law since about a week or so after the Great Fire or so it is rumoured when some sticky beaks were injured by falling stone work. Its been bourne out again and again that bad luck comes to those who trespass and strange noises heard... personally? I boil it down to stupidity and the wind blowing through the place. I've ventured up there once more than twenty years ago - WITH permission mind you and found nothing worthy of my attention.
Harrowstone is the name of the ruined prison — partially destroyed by a fire in 4661, the building has stood vacant ever since. The locals suspect that it’s haunted, and don’t enjoy speaking of the place. IF it was haunted I doubt that my acolytes and I could do much about it. I'm not exactly in my prime. And I doubt that they've even a 'prime' in them - that said? I don't hold with stirring up the place and neither do the locals here. Best left alone I say.
Harrowstone itself was built in 4594. Ravengro was founded at the same time as a place where guards and their families could live and that would produce food and other supplies used by the prison. The fire that killed all of the prisoners and most of the guards destroyed a large portion of the prison’s underground eastern wing, but left most of the stone structure above relatively intact. The prison’s warden perished in the fire, along with his wife, although no one knows why she was in the prison when the fire occurred. A statue commemorating the warden and the guards who lost their lives was built in the months after the tragedy — that statue still stands on the riverbank just outside of town.
Most of the hardened criminals sent to Harrowstone spent only a few months imprisoned, for it was here that most of Ustalav’s executions during that era were carried out. It was that many of the principalities of Ustalav would send their worst down here to Harrowstone.
The fire that caused the tragedy was, in fact, a blessing in disguise, or so the stories go, for the prisoners had rioted and gained control of the prison’s dungeons immediately prior to the conflagration. It was only through the self sacrifice of Warden Hawkran and 23 of his guards that the prisoners were prevented from escaping — the guards gave their lives to save the town of Ravengro.
As for Lorrimor? Yes tis' where he died. I kept the body from decay with blessings from Our Lady until the funeral. The Sheriff found him - a piece of stone had crushed his head and face. Wasn't pretty. Death seldom is but given I knew Petros, it was especially sad for me to see him so.
Given all the extra effort you are putting in, swept away with the role, the people start to warm to you some. You get genuine smiles and warm handshakes that aren't perfunctory. While you can't claim to be 'friends' with these people, for today it is as if you are.
Some of the oppressiveness brought on by the funeral lifts. Even the sun seems to make an appearance after the rains of yesterday. drying up puddles that kids seem to gravitate to inspite of parents scoldings. It is still the same drab and dreary place but it brightens with the light and the groups of people moving hither and thither, laughing and catching up with one another. Simply put it is as if the village itself was breaking into an all too rare smile.
You notice a blue pennant outside 'The Unfurling Scroll' and some interesting smells are emanating from its back window.
Jaru listens closely as he walks beside Father Grimburrow. His long strides match the determined pace set by the older man. "I am not familiar with the term 'sticky beak'. What is that? I suppose it is the sheriff who grants permission to visit the site. I wonder if the professor had permission. I should probably speak with the sheriff."
"No disrespect Father, but I wonder if the professor's death was indeed an accident. I certainly do not mean to imply I can know anyone's fate, but I find it beyond suspicious that he was killed so soon after sending out messages warning of danger. Not just to me, to the others that have arrived from afar as well. He certainly felt some supernatural threat was near."
Jaru listens closely as he walks beside Father Grimburrow. His long strides match the determined pace set by the older man. "I am not familiar with the term 'sticky beak'. What is that? I suppose it is the sheriff who grants permission to visit the site. I wonder if the professor had permission. I should probably speak with the sheriff."
"No disrespect Father, but I wonder if the professor's death was indeed an accident. I certainly do not mean to imply I can know anyone's fate, but I find it beyond suspicious that he was killed so soon after sending out messages warning of danger. Not just to me, to the others that have arrived from afar as well. He certainly felt some supernatural threat was near."
At that he finally stops his pace and says nothing. His eyes scan the moors over which you've been trudging. He turns in silence and starts back but moving off the paths so he'll intersect with the river in a mile or two.
May as be Brother... that may as be.
He is quiet but you can tell he is thinking.
I don't want you stirring up these people or the prison. I doubt Lorrimor had permission and I don't know what led him to the place he died. If you find something more then bring it to me and I'll have a word with the Sheriff. He grants the permission but its at the bequest of the town council normally, though I've not seen it applied for OR granted since my visit.
You move along at the same pace as before and end up along the banks of the river, moving back towards town. You'll arrive in time for lunch assuming nothing goes wrong...
Jaru nods and contemplates silently for a while. Noting that they've returned to the river he asks, "Didn't you say that the warden's memorial is near here? Can we take a look?"
Simeon notices the pennant by the magician's shoppe and makes a bee-line towards it , Hmmm, interesting
He pauses in the doorway, then enters.
Baradlon will make his way into the Unfurling Scroll if its the next competitor on their route. Wonder what the town wizard is brewing up back there?
Greeeeetings friends, the aging man welcomes you enthusiastically. I am Professor Alendru Ghoroven - welcome to our school. He leads you past his counter and shop - which is largely bare and is mainly locked cabinets, down a corridor and to a small kitchen where a small group of older kids are hard at work, lead by one who is nearly an adult.
Students? The Judges - Say hello.
Good Morning Judges, the say almost as one, in a practiced choir of voices.
We're doing Game Bird Pies... aren't we kids?
Yes Professor, they sing song back, though none too enthused.
Already there are three racks of small cooling pies on a side table and near the small oven another 10 or so racks prepared, each with 12 pies.
He introduces you to his senior student who seems to be the 'Foreman' of the collaborative effort, who reports that the pies are taking a little longer than expected but they should still be "on schedule".
Its important to keep the kids busy I say - else they get up to mischief and stuff their heads with all sorts of nonsense. They'll be at liberty until Moonday once they are done here but I suppose they do need SOME time off, Alendru Ghoroven says pompously.
We've not had such a cosmopolitan group pass through in years, let alone act as judges. I am happy to see you. It would do good to discuss larger matters and philosophies than what these folk can normally rise to. He does look rather happy and satisfied on that score.
Jaru nods and contemplates silently for a while. Noting that they've returned to the river he asks, "Didn't you say that the warden's memorial is near here? Can we take a look?"
Surely. If we don't find anything we'll be back for lunch. Afterwards we'll swing up past the prison, along the road there - though anyone who knows about the place would have been reluctant to drag a body up there.
Jaru's eyes scan the skies as they walk. "Were we in Osirion, this would be much easier. The vultures would guide us. They can smell death from miles away. You don't have anything like that here do you?"
Hah - yes! Ravens and crows - I've been looking for such but as you can see we don't have any of that congregating anywhere...
Or rather... we do! There! You see? Near to the Prison?
"Of course! Handsome birds though I find myself partial to the vulture's magnificently bald head." Jaru chuckles as he runs a hand over his own shorn head.
"Let us find their cause. Our search may be quickly over if it is so fated!"
We'll swing by town then and up to the prison - Lunch can wait. We've a bit of a walk ahead of us.
Thats all the 'complaining' you get from the old man as he walks at his slow though constant and unresting pace.
.
Alendru flaps his hand at the senior student.
Game bird flesh seasoned with peppers and onions. Meat was prepared earlier this morning..., the student sighs. Much earlier.
You can see the few spices used and the mix used and in the background the students mix flour and roll pastry.
Thank you. Back to work now. He turns back to you. Ooooh yes. The locals... they don't 'exactly understand' the scientific or the arcane arts.
I was looking for a pastoral change and had passed through here in my youth in happier times - quite gave me rose coloured glasses as it were. Calling on some agents I inquired after a place I could set up a small business and school and Lo' I am here, after... well, about 4 years. It took the first year to get people to me civil to me and another to get my first student. He shakes his head. Franky it can be very hard at times when some child gets sick or some cow stops giving milk. I get a lot of strange looks. More fool me for moving here... still, the place isn't all bad and some of the children here are benefiting from my lessions.
Simeon walked slowly around the shop, hands behind his back, muttering over this and that.
Head rising as Elidal talked with the proprietor, he pipes up "'Tis a noble ideal, bringing the shining light of reason and learning to the benighted countryside."
He approaches Alendru with hand extended "Simeon Plavini, late a lecturer at the University in Caliphas. A great pleasure, indeed."
BAradlon keeps quiet while in the Unfurling Scroll, he does however keep his eyes open for anything on sale that might be useful in combating undead. It'll be back to work after this month I'm sure. It's going to be so much harder to find jobs I can handle on my own without the professor's network. Damn it Petros. Why did you have to die?
Simeon walked slowly around the shop, hands behind his back, muttering over this and that.
Head rising as Elidal talked with the proprietor, he pipes up "'Tis a noble ideal, bringing the shining light of reason and learning to the benighted countryside."
He approaches Alendru with hand extended "Simeon Plavini, late a lecturer at the University in Caliphas. A great pleasure, indeed."
You would be after my time! I was there about 10 years ago. Did a few years in the Quarterfaux Archives before my 'retirement' here, he exclaims. What is it about this place that draws scholars here? Maybe we should think about setting aside land and establishing some sort of acadamae. He then smiles ruefully, Or not.
An hour and more passes
The final bell rings and the crowd gathers in tight in the town square - tables laden with food, all carefully arranged by offering competitor, who all look on with pride, accepting accolades for their displays.
A minute is taken for a benediction from Pharasma, the entire town silent and still as the senior acolyte blesses the proceedings. He finishes and then reminds everyone with a smile to enjoy the food and to not drink so much as to forget the religious service tomorrow morning. The crowd applauds and laughs.
One by one the competitors march their offerings up to the Gazebo where you are seated and wait while you take a few mouthfuls of each dish, eyes glued to your face. There is some jostling at the rear as the 'dessert' offerings strive to make sure they don't put their dishes down ahead of the 'mains'.
They also bear with them an empty pouch. The councilmen indicate that you should add between one and five pebbles from a bowl next to you to the pouch and pass it down the table. At the end, the pouch is sealed for the final counting.
On tasting, it is clear that every dish is good, but there are a few that are amazing. One is surprisingly the Game Pie from Alendru Ghoroven. Another is an offering of local Frau Brucker, a delicious Hasenpfeffer (stew of marinated rabbit) and a third is from Zokar, an unnamed Stroganov. The desert dishes are all very good but there is a standout - a Paskha, (farmer's cheese plus heavy cream, butter, sugar, and vanilla molded in the form of a truncated pyramid) from Frau Yegorov.
The entire town seems to hang on your every mouthful and expression. Whispers roll back and forth through the crowd, debating what the meaning of what each chewed mouthful could mean.
Baradlon Perception/Memory
Lament Perception/Memory
Lament chews thoughtfully on the pie. Its wonderful but the flavours are curiously more balanced than she would have thought.
For the delicate palate of the elves? It seems that its sensitivity extends beyond that of fine wines and meads. Baradlon detects the delicate flavour of 'Allspice', a mix of spices more commonly found in far of Qadira or beautiful Vudra... and he recalled seeing or smelling nothing of that kind in the kitchen - and that its subtly altering the flavour mix.
The outskirts of the town is deserted as you make your way to the banks of the river there to the memorial.
Other than the looming ruins of Harrowstone on a nearby hill, Ravengro’s most distinctive landmark is a 25-foot-tall, moss-covered stone statue that overlooks the river. The statue depicts a proud, muscular human man dressed in leathers and wielding a truncheon — a depiction of Warden Hawkran. A total of 25 names — the guards who died in the fire of 4661, as well as the warden’s wife, Vesorianna — are chiseled into the statue’s stone base.
Father Grimburrow makes the sign of the Spiral. I heard the stories of course, arriving around 20 years after the event those guards who lived through the event were still alive - though I've forgotten much of them. If you want to know more the town has an archive of sorts... and we do in the Temple, though ours is more around death records we do have other information tucked away.
You hear a crowd laughing and clapping in the town square.
Sounds like the judging is in progress. Lets keep moving and avoid fuss.
He leads you through the empty streets along the road to Harrowstone, and it is increasing clear that the birds have something they are very interested in.
Baradlon notes the magical alteration of the pie's flavor (for what else could it be?) with disdain. Clever, but against the spirit of the competition. He casts his vote for Zokar's storganov.
Lament plays to the crowd making faces that show her appreciation for the flavors. As the crowd ooowwwws and aaahhhhs, she plays the judge part to the T. She gives a thumbs up to the four exceptional dishes. She moves the rest away and has the stew and stroganoff left. She looks back and forth building expectation. In the end though, the stroganoff is just too good to pass up. She slides the most rocks in its pouch. She also puts votes for the stew and the Paskah's dessert. She doesn't vote for the wizards. Cheaters never win.
You would be after my time! I was there about 10 years ago. Did a few years in the Quarterfaux Archives before my 'retirement' here, he exclaims. What is it about this place that draws scholars here? Maybe we should think about setting aside land and establishing some sort of acadamae. He then smiles ruefully, Or not.
Simeon taps his nose, musing "Ghoroven...Ghoroven..." then he snaps his fingers "You wrote Comparititve Physiologies of the Fey ! Astounding! A seminal piece, most informative! " Simeon beams, most pleased with himself.
"It would please me to no end to sit down with you, when you're not so busy." Simeon asks hopefully.
Perhaps out of spite, Simeon takes on his judging duties with utmost seriousness. Maintaining a passive slouch in his chair, he gives absolutely no indication of pleasure or disgust when he takes a bite out of the offerings.
Indeed of the four best he honestly cannot determine which he finds most appealing; the strogonoff was meaty and filled the mouth with flavour, the Pashka was delight to his senses, the Hassenfeffer was sublime with wonderful rabbit-ness and Ghoroven's bird pie melted in ones mouth.
Simeon ignored the catcalls from the crowd, encouraging him to vote this way and that.
Looking up at the crowd, he scanned the faces jumbled before him, surprised when he found himself actually enjoying the exhortations of the mob.
As the dishes passed by, he placed exactly two pebbles in most pouches, except for the best four which each recieved four pebbles.
Satisfied with his work, Simeon leans back in his chair and awaits the results.
Jaru pauses, "How long will my companion's duties last? I'm sure they would want to be part of this investigation, but I cannot bear that the professor's body be further desecrated by carrion feeders. If that is what the birds have found."
The old man seems to be wearing down but pushes on, pace not slowing in the least, as you are leaving town.
The judging?... Like as not an hour.
He breathes heavily.
But its a day long event - they... they will need to... handshake and backslap... much of the day... and then there is the... dance tonight.
He gives you a stubborn and angry glare as if daring you to say anything about his current state of being out of breath. Truth be told? You are feeling the effects of the excursion and the hiking over demanding terrain yourself.
Its a solid mile or more to the prison, up the road and all uphill. Looking back you can see the press of people in the town square and are certain that sharp eyed people would be able to see you if their attention were not so diverted. Meanwhile the old priest finally quickens his pace, though how he is managing to do so after the hard hike and his clearly worsening condition is beyond you.
You reach the summit of the barren hill and the more gently sloped road near the prison to behold Harrowstone in all its faded sullen glory. A two-story stone building looms within the crumbling forbodding walls in the center of the prison grounds. Ivy and moss cling tenaciously to the walls, while above the wooden shingles of the roof are often missing entirely, exposing the wooden rafters of the upper structure to the sky. Here and there, leering stone gargoyles perch on the eaves, once functioning as drainspouts and decorations but now seeming almost to serve a more ominous role of sentinels. Many of these stone decorations have crumbled away. Windows in the building’s facade are narrow and blocked by grills of rusty iron bars.
A sagging wood and metal gate set between a pair of stone guard towers once barred entrance into Harrowstone, but the gates now hang negligently open, creaking softly in what wind touches the ruined bars.
Looking again at the prison and then down the hill you can't help but feel it seems to squat over the town itself like a stern judge over a petitioner, passing sentence.
There... , the priest wheezes.
He points to a flock of carrion birds flitting around and squabbling over... something, that is some 200 yards past the prison, and along the road, past the turn off that leads to its gates.