The Mayor and his wife appear to be taken in by Erevan's story; they express sincere concern. "But I do hope you will be able to join us for lunch, afterward? We would be back some time after mid-morning, you would be very welcome at our house."
Dominik courteously offers his arm to Etna, and escorts her and Vanessa from the inn.
Etna is treated to a long-ish walk to the fort of Balentyne, which is about a mile from the town of Aldencross.
Entering through the large, stone gatehouse , you see a large stone keep directly in front of you, and a path which includes a garden and a statue of the first King Markadian, the Victor .
Entering the Chapel , you find yourselves in a beautiful open hall. Its vault ceilings soar, rising twenty five feet. Around the edge of the ceilings are statues of numerous saints of the Mitran faith. All of them are singing joyous hymns in praise of the shining lord. At the front of the hall is a great altar and carved upon the front is the phrase – “There is no darkness so deep that a single candle cannot defeat it.”
Over two dozen people are present, from common soldiers up to the Lord of the fortress himself. He nods gravely at Dominik and Vanessa but does not speak.
After some moments, a kindly-looking man appears in the pulpit, and begins a song in plainchant. Gradually, the congregation joins in; as the song ends, it begins again, in a slightly different key; repeating the refrain. Once the echoes die away, another song begins, and this time it is clear: the statues of the saints really do appear to be humming along.
You have heard of minor celestial creatures - such as Lantern Archons - which can be bound to particularly holy places such as this, to protect it and encourage the population. It would appear that this is the explanation for the singing statues.
The service - and the singing - continue for perhaps an hour; at the end, the priest offers a blessing and you all depart. The Vallinsons treat Etna to lunch, asking her for news of doings in the more metropolitan parts of Talingarde; in return, they gladly offer their thoughts on any matters to do with Aldencross that she (and Erevan, if he's present) might want to ask.
You all attend the local service, which lasts long enough for the locals to feel holy, but not so long for them to feel bored. Leaving the church, you see that it is some hours yet until lunch.
Felrin makes a visit to the elderly servants, bearing his cake; the Iversons invite him in gladly, and listen to him. "Of course, we can put in a good word for you, my boy," Mrs Iverson says fondly. "Why don't you come with us tomorrow and we'll see about getting you a job there."
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As Tkaara is awake and outside, she figures that she might as well make the best of the day. She will wander about the town talking with various citizens who are out and about on this holy day of rest.
Diplomacy:
--> Specifically, she is inquiring about any stories of the animals and plants in the area to aid with building up her and the Doctor's stories. She will also inquire about anyone learned in the area about the natural creatures that inhabit the region.
After spending an hour or two, mostly on the shady side of the streets, investigating what types of shops are around, she will make her way to Rosie's to sample some of the reputed fine fare that is sold there.
Despite their best efforts, the townsfolk in no way manage to keep from boring Ottakar with their ridiculous sermon, a fact made evident by the impatient look on his face the entire time.
As soon as he is able to escape, he retreats once more to his room and spends the day translating the map, lunching on a loaf of bread and cold sausage smuggled from breakfast.
Joining the Vallinsons for lunch, Jenna is happy to finally be able to gossip with someone that wasn't her cousin: Craigh was too absorbed in his own hobbies to be interested in what hat Baroness Vanya of Veryn donned in the last ball.
In turn, the noble asks the mayor and his wife about Lord Havelyn, the four captains, and what happened to Havelyn's wife.
Dominik sighs. "Ah, my Lady, I regret that I am not so deeply into the counsel of Lord Havelyn that he would confide such matters to me. As for the other captains, I find Captain Barhold to be a man worthy of respect; unflinching discipline, devotion to duty, and yet human with it. Captain Mott endeavours to copy that, but somehow is lacking - as though his heart is not really in it. One feels rather that he is putting in his time and waiting for a promotion to command elsewhere. Captain Barhold will die a soldier on the Watch Wall, one just knows it, hmm? He isn't interested in promotion elsewhere. Captain Varning is a good conversationalist-"
"-as long as the conversation is about the military, or horses..." Vanessa interrupts, somewhat tartly.
Dominik chuckles. "I'm afraid I once had to leave her at a party where Captain Varning rather monopolised the evening. I feel she has yet to forgive him - or me!" He smiles at her, and she at him, warmly.
"As for Captain Eddarly," he frowns. "The man is no gentleman. I'm afraid I can say no more than that."
Vanessa's eyes twinkle with a certain mischief. "He's very handsome... or so I've heard people say." It's clear that she is - gently - teasing her husband.
Dominik harrumphs. He does it very well. You're not sure you've heard anyone harrumph before, but that is exactly what you would have expected it to sound like. "My dear, handsome is as handsome does, as I've heard people say."
Mama Rosie's is a small restaurant run out of the proprietor's home. It is clearly marketing itself as something 'exotic' - bunches of garlic and unusual herbs hang from the awning, and the chalkboard outside is lettered in Gothic script.
The reason becomes clear when you enter, and are greeted by the proprietor, a round, dumpy woman in her late 60's. Her red face is wrinkled and wreathes itself in smiles as you step in. "So, you come to Rosie's at last, hey? Come, come, sit!" Her accent is thickly Ustalavic, to the point that you have to concentrate to make out what she is saying.
"So, you strangers here, yes? Not worry, Rosie feed you up good. No - " she snatches away the menus "- for you, Rosie make something special: ghulosh, is regional speciality of Old Country. When I arrive here those years ago, is only recipe I have, and is still best thing you ever eat. People here are good, better than in Old Country, but they no eat so good. Rosie work on changing that. Everyone in town know Rosie - they call me Mama Rosie."
She beams with pride. "Even Commander at Castle, he call me Mama Rosie, he smile at me when I go there. Every Fireday, ever since my boys work in Castle, I go to cook them lunch. Is highlight of week for them! Of course, my boys, they grown up, they leave - but Rosie still make lunch at Castle, every Fireday, without fail. Here."
She gives you a carafe of what appears to be water, and bustles off. It's not water. It's some sort of very, very strong, colourless spirit. It tastes of burning.
The old woman chuckles when she returns. "Ah, stolchnya, is good, no? It put hairs on your chest -"" she points at Felrin "-or baby in belly." She winks, lewdly, at Tkaara, and chuckles again, before setting down two platters of meat stew.
It's fair to say that Talingarde, being somewhat isolated from the rest of Golarion (there is very little trade with the continent of Avistan), is somewhat provincial in its tastes. Most spices are rare; chillies are essentially unknown. As a hub of what little trade exists, Ghastenhall has a reputation for somewhat spicy food due to their use of pepper. This dish is entirely different. Paprika is a completely unknown phenomenon. Even Tkaara, whose taste buds are jaded, can taste this food.
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Tkaara, after feeling her head spin from the amount of alcohol in the not-water, turns toward the ghulosh, expecting it to taste bland and appealing as all food has for the past few weeks. However, the bite of the spices is in fact almost enchanting, not as appetizing as her treats, but far superior to that of the sludge served on the boat or in the Cardinal's estate.
After taking a few bites, a few more bites than Felrin recalls the emaciated barrister having taken in weeks, Tkaara looks up at Mama Rosie.
This is wonderful. Do tell. What is your secret? The spices? Fresh she draws this out meat?
Diplomacy: <--trying to turn on the friend clause
‘Dav’ grins good-naturedly at Mama Rosie’s warm welcome, saying, ”Yes, you guessed it, we’re strangers here. But you sure make a guy feel at home. Thanks so much for the warm welcome, we should have come here the first day we were in town!”
He lifts a glass of stolchnya and takes a healthy swallow, expecting cool, refreshing water and getting instead a flow of liquid fire down his throat! His eyes shut tight and he exhales forcefully out his nose, giving his head a quick shake as well, all in an effort to not cough the drink right back up. Once he’s sure it’s staying down, he raises his glass as casually as he can to Mama Rosie and, making an effort to sound convincing, says, ”Aahh, good, good stuff!”
When the stew is laid before them, Dav tucks in eagerly, lavishing compliments on Mama Rosie’s cooking. ”This is wonderful, I’ve never tasted anything like it! I can see why the commander wants you to cook for him, I’m surprised he only has you there once a week! So, do you cook for the whole regiment, or just the commander?” He takes several appreciative bites, washing it down with more measured sips of the stolchnya, before continuing in a quieter voice, ”You know, Mama Rosie, I’ve been asking around town, trying to figure out how to make a good impression on folks at the fort, so I could maybe get work there. Do you think I could help with feeding the soldiers, get to know them a bit better, so I have a better chance at finding a place there? I sure would appreciate it, and it’d be nice to help you out, after this warm welcome you’ve given us.”
The old lady smiles at Tkaara. "Silly! If I tell, is no secret no more, hey? But yes, is combination. Meat is cooked overnight - slow - low fire, and spices are from Old Country. When I make for soldiers, I make here overnight, and wagon come from Castle to collect everything."
She looks at Felrin. "You want work? Rosie, she getting older, she appreciate offer of help. You come by maybe one Toilday evening and help make big meal, yes? Oh - not this week, this week I have friend visiting. Maybe next week you come by?"
As agreed, you go with the Iversons to Balentyne. They explain that you are looking for work; the guard takes your name with a bored shrug. "Pay is on Fireday; work till then, maybe we'll put you on a contract."
After consulting the rota, they find with some dismay that they are to clean the Wizard's chambers. This discovery makes them nervous; not frightened, as such, but most Talireans are superstitious about magic, seeing it as sinister and imparting dark motives to anyone who practices it. It doesn't help that apparently he is extremely reclusive and refuses to eat in the common room: he takes his meals in his chambers and only lets servants in on a Moonday to remove the detritus.
Knocking with some trepidation on the door, you are met by a flame-haired, bespectacled man of indeterminate age. "Oh! Yes, come in, come in..." He has evidently forgotten you were due. "Now please, be careful, especially of THIS - in fact, don't go anywhere near it."
'THIS' is a large form, seemingly made of ice, resting on a slab. It radiates cold, but does not appear to be melting. It is so obviously magical in origin that the Iversons are unwilling to be in the same room as it - the warning not to touch it is completely unnecessary. It does not respond in any way to your presence.
To make room for it, the rest of the laboratory has been squeezed up and in consequence the poorly lit and crowded chamber is full of tables laden with strange equipment and apparatus. The wizard fusses around you as you endeavour to remove plates and the detritus of past meals from his laboratory and private chambers; he doesn't appear to be fussy about where he eats, depending on where he is working. But in Felrin's view, it is highly unlikely that this fussy and rather pedantic man does anything more sinister of a night than go to bed with a hot chocolate and a good book.
The process takes all day, and several trips up and down the stairs of the keep, carrying buckets of hot water and cloths up; and dirty laundry and dishes down. Felrin returns to the inn late, and tired.
You spend the day continuing to work on the dwarven blueprints, and by the end of the day you have a map. You are even able - based on the drawings - to make an accurate guess as to where the vault is with the secret door back to the inn.
??????
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After a restless night, Tkaara decides to spend the morning sleeping. In the early afternoon, she awakes. Seeing that Ottakar continues to dwell on making every perfection in the map, not that that is a bad thing, she heads out alone to work on learning relevant information to bolster their cover, and perhaps gain some knowledge about the fort as well.
First, she heads to the alchemist shop.
Good afternoon. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Lynii Reanov. I am here with Professor Karentice of the famed University of Lepidstadt. I am assisting him on the research of the flora and fauna here in the north of Talingarde. As the preeminent alchemist here in the north, I was hoping that you could provide some insight as to what would be of value. I am sure you must know the hills and valleys of the area quite well to supply your shop with alchemical components.
---------
Later at the bookstore:
Good afternoon. Even on a cold winter day, books warm the soul. I was wondering if you might have a good book about the area. I am most interested in any that might describe the animals and plants that call this area home. I and my companion, Doctor Karentice, are researching the flora and fauna for our benefactor. Really, and book about the area would probably be valuable including books about the history in the area.
Diplomacy(alchemist): <-- could be worse
Diplomacy(book seller): <-- I assume he will do almost anything to help
--> subtract 1 if bluff is the relevant skill. Let me know if there is another skill - Knowledge(geography), Knowledge(nature), Perception, etc - that is applicable.
Felrin nods graciously to Mama Rosie, his mouth full of delicious goulash. When he’s finished chewing, he says, ”I’d be happy to do that, Mama Rosie! I’ll come by and help cook it – though you’ll have to tell me what to do – and I could even help deliver it.” He goes back to finishing his meal, cleaning his plate thoroughly.
Felrin sets diligently to work cleaning the wizard’s chamber, following the Iversons’ lead in what to touch and what to leave alone. As he works, he attempts to discern what he can of the wizard’s nature, being careful not to reveal what he’s doing. He also takes a careful look around as he’s cleaning to see if the chamber has a clock. Once he spots it, a small mantel-clock in a carved ebony case, he says deferentially to the wizard, ”Um, excuse me, sir? I see you’ve got a nice little clock there. I was apprenticed to a clockmaker for some time before he passed on and I decided I wanted to see a bit of the world. If you’d like, I could come back some time with my tools and tune it up for you? I’ve a good touch with them, and those case clocks sometimes have trouble with the winding stops coming loose, the mainspring can get over-wound and break on you all of sudden if they’re not maintained.”
He goes quiet a moment, having said far more than the wizard would expect from a lowly servant, then continues, as if he can’t help himself, ”An’ if I could ask, sir, what is that thing made of ice that doesn’t melt? It’s fascinating!”
In Caldwyn's Cauldron
Tkaara's experience of alchemists' shops, apothecaries, and other such... establishments is extensive. She is struck on entering by just how well-stocked this place is; there are shops in Ghastenhall with fewer resources than she can see on the shelves. And behind the counter, she can identify a number of substances - nothing illegal, of course - of potentially questionable use. Does a small town like this one really need this much? Granted, Aldencross is the supplier for all the outlying regions, but nonetheless... it is interesting.
The alchemist falteringly introduces himself as Tereth Caldwyn; Tkaara gets the impression he doesn't get out much. Indeed, he has the pale, slightly obsessive look of one who stays up late and indoors. To Tkaara's experienced eye (who, after all, has intimate knowledge of what is involved in living a double life) the man looks positively furtive. What exactly does he have to hide?
The Illuminated Scroll
The proprietor, Jacobian Scaramore, introduces himself with a bow. "I am sure that we can accomodate your requests, madam. There is extensive literature about this area, going back to the dwarven histories, even."
Tkaara doesn't find much specifically about the fort, but what catches her eye is the repository of magical items, particularly scrolls: Mister Jacobian Scaramore is evidently of the magical persuasion.
Magister-Captain Tacitus looks alarmed as Felrin investigates the mechanism. "No, no no, don't touch that! It's delicate! I don't want some clumsy apprentice - if I want assistance, I can call on a master smith! No, really, please leave it well alone. And as for the ice creature, it is what we call a golem. Now please, would you just carry on with your work?"
Felrin gets the impression that the man is not being deliberately rude; rather, he is unused to company and is nervous about having uneducated people in his laboratory.
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In Caldwyn's Cauldron
Realizing just how many resources are to be found here, Tkaara takes note and knows that the Doctor will likely find the place most interesting.
Tkaara's gaze goes about the well stocked store with a keen eye, trying to see if there is anything that could be used to make things for her enjoyment. As she does so, a desperate longing overcomes her as she realizes that it was about this time the prior day that she last enjoyed her medicine. Turning back to the alchemist with a longing look.
Master Caldwyn. You truly do have an amazingly well stocked shop here. I have visited many an alchemy proprietorship in Gastenhall, and few were half as well stocked as yours. It must have taken you months to acquire all of this.
Suddenly her eye catches a small canister labeled "Crushed Red Failel". She turns back to the alchemist.
Do you actually have Crushed Red Failel? I did not know that it grew around here. In the south they make the most wonderful medicine with that. I have found that it is great for helping one speak to others. Personally, I have found that it relieves a constant ailment that I have been suffering from for quite some time. Seeing the alchemist suddenly have a concerned look, and take a step back, Tkaara laughs. No, no, not anything contagious. The doctors and priests in the south cannot diagnose it, but so far in the months that I have had it, nobody has taken ill because of being near me.
With that, she leans in closer to the pale man, undoubtedly making him feel more uncomfortable.
If you could get me, or make me some of the medicine that uses the Crushed Red Failel, I would be VERY appreciative.
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When she sees the scrolls, her eyes light up.
Wow, you have a fine selection of scrolls here, both mundane and magical. I have studied magic a little, but would not claim to be an expert. Do you mind if I were to look at the scrolls. I am just interested in what you would have. One never knows when something unexpected might be found.
Fort:
Diplomacy: <-- making nice with the alchemist, really playing up his discomfort and lack of talking to pretty women.
--------
Assume the last diplomacy is the relevant one.
Master Caldwyn's Cauldron
Master Caldwyn recoils from you sharply. "I'm sor-sorry, Miss, but I have no idea what you're talking about. The ingredient you mentioned has only minor uses, as far as I'm aware. I wish you a good day."
The Illuminated Scroll
Tkaara can find a number of low-level arcane spells as scrolls.
First and Second level only, nothing with the [chaotic] or [evil] descriptors.
Not sure of what to do that day, Etna takes a walk around town. Perusing the market stalls, the ifrit tries to pick up some new rumors or such.
Truth to be told, I think we are close to know all of the pawns that are on the board. No we only have to set something in motion...
Disguising it with her walk around town, the noblewoman passes a couple of times around the Mott, residence, trying to discern if there was anyone home: there was no way she was going to be able to sneak in, but it wouldn't have been a problem for one of her more stealth-apt colleagues.
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At Master Caldwyn's Cauldron
Understanding that Master Caldwyn is unlikely to be of much more use on this day, Tkaara bids him farewell before heading off to the book store.
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Bookstore
Tkaara, after perusing the scrolls, bids the sellers farewell.
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When she gets back to the inn, she will relate to Ottakar what she discovered, particularly with regard to the items at the alchemist shop and the scrolls available, in case the Doctor wishes to use any of them for transcription into this formulae book. She will also tell Etna in case there are any scrolls that the sorceress thinks could be useful.
When she sees Ottakar.
The alchemist could be most useful. I think that I should work on him, try to spend more time with him. In fact, if I could get him out of his shop, you could probably find almost anything that you might consider useful in there as he has one of the best stocked shops I have ever seen.
The Mott residence is indeed occupied: Kaitlyn lives in town even though her husband spends most of his time at Balentyne. Thus, you are able to spot the comings and goings of the servants and townspeople in and out of the house. It appears that Kaitlyn Mott is quite sociable. People are sympathetic to the fact that her husband is so often on duty; sympathetic too to the fact that she - a great beauty - is married to so stern-looking and unsociable a man as her husband. Apparently it was an arranged marriage.
When you return to the inn, you see a group of soldiers drinking at the bar as usual; together with a junior officer. The officer smiles at you; it appears that the rumours of an attractive - and bored - lady that he has heard are true.
"Good evening, ma'am; Lieutenant Lewis Smithers, subaltern to Captain Varning; might I buy you a drink?"
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Seeing the Lieutenant at the bar, and his announcement that he is the subaltern to one of the Captains, Tkaara's mind begins to plot and plan.
She walks over to the captain and offers her hand, expecting a kiss on the back.
Lieutenant Varning. What a special pleasure. I met several of your subordinates on Starday, but did not expect to have the honor of meeting an officer of the fort.
Tkaara's intention is to be sociable, but hard to get, at least for the first few nights. She will ask questions about lieutenant and his job and duties, but more as a ditzy-blonde, than one really interested. The questions are focussed on trying to sound interested in a subject that probably bores her.
Diplomacy: <-- better than the low rolls before
The young man takes and kisses your hand with practiced ease and orders a bottle of Taldan white wine, before leading the way to the officers' room. "I like to give the common soldiers a bit of room, so they can relax without their officer breathing down their neck," he explains.
He is more than happy to talk about himself and his duties, most of which take place away from the confines of the fort ("Nothing better than being in the saddle!"). He describes the minutiae of patrolling, and the dangers they have faced (Captain Varning apparently killed the last bandit chieftain in a duel three years ago, so things nowadays are a little more tedious) - and mentions the timing of the next patrol:
"We ride out first light tomorrow, for two weeks - Captain's heard rumours of bugbears massing nearby, wants to take a look. Can't believe that they'd be stupid enough to attack the Watch Wall again, though - but I'd love a good fight!" his eyes shine with enthusiasm. "So anyway, that's why I'm in town, to get a bit of civilisation before I head off for a fortnight in the wilderness..."
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Tkaara smiles and nods appreciatively as she listens to the Lieutenant.
Wow, two weeks away from the fort. Where do you go? Do you have wagons and supplies and servants? Or are you real mountain men. In two weeks, I would think that you could make it all the way to Gastenhall and back.
When he mentions the bugbears, she gets a look of concern on her face.
Bugbears? Aren't they like giants with four arms? Pretty sure that was what one I saw in a performance in the capitol looked like. Why would you want to fight them? I thought the wall kept them all out. How would they possibly get past the great Balentyne fort? Isn't it supposed to be impregnable?
Bluff: <-- I assume she is going to need this at some point.
Felrin returns from the fort having put in a full day's physical labour; he is met by Ottakar, who wants to discuss some things with him. Initially put out, Felrin's interest is picqued by the map the Doctor has managed to put together; he is able to identify a number of the areas he went through earlier today.
Ottakar also talks to him about the ivory horn, and whether and how this could be fitted with a spring-loaded mechanism to convert it between a longspear and a shortspear. The idea is sufficiently intriguing that the two of them retire to make some sketches. Eventually, they are able to come up with a set of drawings that Ottakar can take to the local smith for further discussion
The Lieutenant smiles indulgently. "No wagons, we take supplies in our packs - and forage some. With a shortbow each, we can take down most game in the area; I eat better on patrol than I do in the fort!"
He chuckles at Tkaara's ditzy misunderstanding of bugbears. "No, only two arms, but believe me, that's enough. They're big and they're mean - and they're stealthy like you wouldn't believe. The Watch Wall keeps them out, but it doesn't stop them trying! Every ten, twenty years one of the crazier ones gathers a bunch of them together and attacks. Always ends the same way." He shakes his head. "Goblinoids are too stupid to learn any better, I suppose."
He pauses. "I understand from the innkeep that you're here for some time; perhaps once I'm back from patrol, we might meet again - unless there's someone you're seeing, of course...?"
The day dawns extremely dreary, with thick heavy grey cloud - which has left a very light dusting of snow on the ground. It rapidly turns to slush and is gone before lunchtime, but serves as yet another reminder that you are in the Far North.
Felrin spends another day with the Iversons, doing menial servant work. He doesn't see any part of the fort he hasn't already seen, but - keeping his eyes open - he sees the rota posted for the next month. With Captain Varning out on patrol, the other three Captains have alloted the shifts between them as follows:
Captain Barhold - on duty from 8 a.m. until 4 p.m.
Captain Mott - on duty from 4 p.m. until midnight
Captain Eddarly - on duty from midnight until 8 a.m.
Jasper Iverson chuckles at that. "I hear Captain Barhold - as senior Captain - sets the rota; never gives himself the night shift!"
With Felrin's plans for your spear now in hand, you locate the VonKraig Smithy, run by Erasmus VonKraig, an astonishingly surly - although clearly very gifted - dwarf. Examples of his handiwork are displayed on the wall; he is clearly a class above most smiths.
He grumbles when you enter, but one beady eye lights up at the plans: your impression is that any distraction from the mundane pieces he continually has to forge for the local military is welcome. "I can do it." is his only spoken remark. "Cost ya 300 gp. Come back next Toilday. Now scram. Busy."
???
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Tkaara shakes her head innocently.
Seeing someone else? Usually the only man I see is the Professor, and unless a girl likes the smell of musty books and ink stains, he really does not have much to offer other than boredom.
She leans back and sighs.
Will it really be two weeks? Wow, what is there for a girl to do for entertainment here? The Inn seems to specialize in drunken dwarves, and I have not seem much else. In the south, I would go to the opera, or see the orchestra, or join the girls for a night out. But, here in Aldencross, as important as the town is to the region, I have not found much to do other than keep the Professor from getting sidetracked.
When he mentions that bugbears only have two arms, Tkaara sighs.
Only two? That is too bad. I would love to have told the girls in the south of meeting someone who had actually seen a four armed monstrosity. Is there anything else dangerous in the wilds about here? Anything else from the north that might get past the wall?
-------
Tkaara will relate what she learned from the lieutenant so that the group can arrange a way to ambush the patrol. She will also keep an eye out, by wandering the streets and seeing what the market has to offer, to see which direction the patrol plans on going. Her view is to take out the patrol on the first night as they will be unlikely to have as many sentries the first day being so close to the fort.
I think you are planning on hand waiving this encounter, which is fine by me. My only thought is that Tkaara would want to take several of the suits of armor and clothes so that the party has uniforms that could be used to aid in any deception when we attack the fort.
Tkaara will also write a nice note, in a flowery handwriting, to the alchemist.
Tereth
I would like to continue our discussion of yesterday. I am at the Inn waiting when you are interested.
She will sign it with a combination of hearts and her name - Lynii, with more hearts over the "i"s.
Diplomacy:
Bluff:
--> no clue which, or if either, is relevant to the letter
Planning to get close to Kaitlyn, Etna heads to the woman's house under the guise of asking on how she could help with charity in town.
"I already am involved in charity back in my hometown, as the tenets of Our Shining Lord say, but..." Jenna says, after several minutes of formalities and such " I usually just donate money to the poor. But, after coming here, near the Watch Wall, where soldiers put their lives on the line to protect Talingrade I...I feel motivated to do something more than simply donating money." the noblewoman looks with determination at Mott's wife.
"I've heard that you are a pious woman, involved in charity. Could you give me some advices on what I could do?"
The Lieutenant shakes his head. "I'm afraid I wouldn't know what there is by way of entertainment for a lady, ma'am; my free hours are somewhat limited, and I spend them here." He looks relieved when she tells him that she isn't seeing anyone: "Perhaps then, when I return, we might meet up again?"
In terms of monsters beyond the Watch Wall, there are a number of legends, but he's fairly sure that there are things other than bugbears: hill giants, ettins, naantanuks (awakened dire polar bears) and even rumours of frost giants, although he's inclined to take that with a pinch of salt, never having seen one himself.
Finally, he bids her a good night, kissing her hand once more.
Tkaara receives a short reply from the alchemist. I received your note. Busy all week, perhaps supper this Starday?
Kaitlyn Mott is very pleased to see you; she had heard that nobility were visiting town, but the idea that you would make time to come and see her is gratifying. O-of course, my Lady, I'm sure we can think of something... Might I invite you to dinner on Fired- oh! No, I'm sorry, that won't work." She reddens slightly, before recovering herself. (Two guesses as to what she has planned for Fireday evening.) "Perhaps lunch on Sunday? You'd be welcome to join us - my husband will be here as well."
The day dawns bright and crisp and clear - a thick frost covers the ground, but the sun is shining, for once. This pleases everyone except Tkaara.
You are getting to be known as a reasonably familiar face now at the fort, meaning that - within reason - you can wander where you please and people will assume that you have duties to attend to. It's almost as good as an invisibility spell.
Under this guise, you spend the rest of the day exploring as much of the fort as you can. The only area off-limits to non-military personnel is the gatehouse across the bridge, which is in theory a war zone.
The good weather seems to drive everyone out of doors. The nobleman and his cousin evidently plan on having some sort of picnic in the woods, possibly with an overnight visit to some particularly interesting ruins that they have heard of; while the professor and his beautiful but reluctant assistant take the opportunity to do some exploration of the local flora and fauna. The local ostler does good business renting them all some fine horses.
Making their separate ways out of town, they meet up at a previously agreed rendezvous point. All pretence falls away; once more, they are the Forsaken, vengeful, determined, duty-bound. Ottakar easily picks up the trail of around a dozen horsemen. Following them for the whole day, you catch up in sight of them just as evening falls. Hiding out of sight, you wait, impatiently, while they make camp and eat, lighting a fire that acts as a beacon - although most of you can see in the dark.
Night has fallen long since before they retire. A lone sentry stands guard, looking out - but he is not proof against your wiles. Ottakar kills him quickly, without a sound. After that, it is simply a matter of murdering the others as they sleep. Erevan makes a point of targetting Captain Varning, his unholy smiting power lending extra force to his spear as he drives it directly into his foe's heart. The feeling is more than the usual satisfaction of a kill well done - there is a dark, quiet joy in the act.
Finally, all the soldiers lie dead. Their freshly-spilled blood steams in the air; Tkaara's mouth waters, but she successfully conceals this from the others.
Captain Varning had
Masterwork full plate
Masterwork heavy steel shield (with personal heraldry)
Masterwork lance
Masterwork longsword
Composite (+4 Str) shortbow
20 arrows
Keys to his room
25 gp
The 10 soldiers had
10 chain shirts
10 lances
10 longswords
10 shortbows
200 arrows
70 gp
You spend the night in the now-vacated camp; it's extremely comfortable. The soldiers obviously knew their work well.
It is raining: a thick, persistent drizzle that is just this side of becoming sleet. Visibility is low and a thick bank of cloud promises fog later. It is miserable, but the perfect weather for concealing misdeeds.
You spend the day stripping the bodies of their gear and burying them deep where nobody will find them. It is hard work, in hard weather. Tkaara has to stop more than once, on the verge of fainting from exhaustion, but you get it done eventually. Someone may find the bodies at some stage, but it will not be any time soon. The first blow has been struck against the defenders of Balentyne, and - what is better - they aren't even aware of it.
The only question is what to do with their horses... Left to their own devices, the animals will inevitably make their way back to the fort, which will raise suspicion and alarm. Is there a plan that involves something other than killing them and leaving them for the vultures?
Eventually, tired, wet through, muddy, but satisfied, you make your separate ways back to Aldencross and your waiting beds.
You are now fully confident in your cloak of near-invisibility, and ready to take a look through the Captains' quarters. They are locked, but this does not pose an obstacle for you.
Captain Varning's room is sparse; it is evident that he spends little time here, and when he is off-duty prefers to be in town. You have heard that he rents a house in Aldencross.
Captain Barhold's room is the largest, since he is the most senior of the Captains. Considering that the man lives here, there is almost nothing personal at all about the room.
Captain Mott's room has nothing aside from a portrait of his wife; when not on duty, he spends his nights in town.
Captain Eddarly's room is handsomely appointed, more befitting a noble than a soldier. Several sets of extremely fine clothing hang in the wardrobe, together with assorted pieces of jewellery: silver cufflinks, gold fob watches, ivory cravat pins, and the like. More valuable than any of that - to Felrin, at least - is a collection of extremely explicit love letters, in a lady's hand. It is not hard to guess who they might be from.
All in all, a good day's work. Felrin makes his way back to the Lord's Dalliance, just in time to find the others arriving back, looking wet, muddy, tired - but triumphant.
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Tkaara drafts a careful letter back to the alchemist.
Waiting three days will be hard. Sturdy cannot come soon enough.
Tkaara truly does not feel any pity or remorse as she drops her heavy club on the head of the man she was wooing but a day earlier. Perhaps there is a little feeling somewhere in her heart, but a blackness quickly surrounds the compassion and buries it before it is able to stop her blow.
When she is finished, she looks at the horses.
They could be quite useful, but I do not know for what. I see no need to destroy them. However, should any return to Balentyne without riders, great questions would arise and without a doubt this would cause the fort to raise its alert level.
She pauses thinking.
Another option might be to see if there are any abandoned farms in the area. We could stable them there, although this would require one of us making sure that they were properly cared for. And, I still do not know if they would help us on our mission.
To say that Tkaara is grumpy and unhappy at having to bury all the fresh blood slain soldiers, is an understatement. Fortunately, she knows that returning to the town covered in rain and dirt from the trail will cover the real cause of her disgruntlement. She makes sure that Etna uses her magic to clean all signs of the digging, leaving only the common grime expected from a day on the road in the rain.
While returning:
A thought occurred to me. Perhaps we can talk with the bard and see if we can arrange a theatrical performance to entertain the soldiers and the local population. If it were to be done on Fireday or Starday evening, this would get a sizable portion of the guards out of the fort. We could provide ale or some other drink for the guards' enjoyment. Then, in the middle of the night, when the guards and local population are sleeping off their drink, we could start a fire in the town. While the fire was raging to distract people and hopefully get some assistance from the guards in the fort, we would sneak into the fort through the tunnel wearing the uniforms we took. Between intoxicated off duty guards and a major fire in town, we could probably get quite a bit accomplished in the fort. I do not know the layout of the fort, but I would hope that we could disable the ability to raise the drawbridge, and get across to secure the gatehouse.
Remember, we do not have to fight all the guards in the castle, we just need to make sure that the doors are open for the bugbears.
When she gets back to the inn, she politely, as politely as she can in her miserable mood, asks for a bath to be drawn, and then soaks for a long time with a cloth over her face to keep out any sign of sunlight, even though it is barely light outside with the persistent rain.
Fort(Toilday):
Fort(Wealday):
Fort(Oathday):
She manages to hold off the urge to medicate herself on the first two days, but succumbs and uses some Flayleaf on Oathday.
"It would be my pleasure. Sunday it is." Jenna nods, before smiling impishly at Kaitlyn. "I must confess that now I'm curious to know why we can't arrange for Fireday. Oh, wait, don't tell me!" Jenna stops herself, considering her blushing "You're probably going to pass some time with your husband. I've heard he's very busy: I don't want to disturb.".
She puts an hand over her mouth "Oh, pardon me: gossip always gets me a little carried away. We'll see each other on Sunday."
Despite being glad to finally be able to turn back to her normal appearance, Etna is nonetheless more than annoyed to having to go back in the wilderness.
And I was hoping that we finally were done with treks trough the mud. We don't have any choice, though...
Still, she doesn't complain, helping ambush the guards and bury their bodies (not without repeated casting of Prestidigitation).
"That is a sound idea, Tkaara." the ifrit nods to the pale woman "We could arrange it for the night we launch our attack to open the doors. Homewer, we still have some things to set up before we can decide on a date, I think."
Felrin settles in quite comfortably as an invisible servant, pleased with how much freedom it grants him to explore the fortress. He busies himself with learning the layout and collecting all the information he can, and even manages to tend to the duties of his position. He’s quite pleased to discover the cache of love letters, and more than little surprised to read their contents. I should have known. These Mitrans wear their faith on their sleeves, but it does not flow in their veins, the hypocritical bastards.
He peruses the letters for a few moments, then slips one inside his shirt. That’ll be of interest to the rest of the Ninth Knot, and Etna might be able to mimic the handwriting, which could come in handy. And if we can show one of these to the lady’s husband, we can pit the captains against each other and might manage to take two of ‘em out with a single stroke.
Returning to the Lord’s Dalliance, he greets the tired travelers, suggesting they retire to a quiet spot to chat for a bit. After ruefully listening to their account of the fight slaughter – ”Wish I had been there to kill a few Mitrans…but I suppose there’s not much chance to see ‘em squirm when you slash their throats as they sleep. Still, good work.” – he tells them what he’s learned of the layout and habits of Balentyne. He then pulls a scented envelope from inside his shirt and, laying it on the table with a flourish, says, ”And I found this. Nice hard evidence of the affair between Eddarly and Mott’s wife, and a sample of her handwriting as well. And the things she writes…”
"Wonderful job, Felrin." Etna sincerely congratulates the tiefling "You'll have plenty of chances to do that in the future, I assure you."
I'm actually a little wary of his hate for Mitrans...Felrin must have his reasons, but he takes it too personally: that never helps you think things clearly. Let's just hope it won't get in the way of our mission, sooner or later.
A letter? Wonderful! Could I have a look? the ifrit asks, picking up the envelope. "What do you mean by 'things she write', by the way?" the disguised fire-haired woman adds, not taking her eyes off the letter as she starts reading to herself.
"Eddarly, my love for you burns brighter than yadda yadda. I ache to feel-oh.Oh! Oh gods!" Etna hastily puts the letter back on the table, covering her face with one of her hands. Luckily, she had her hair tied for her disguise, or they would have been fluttering around for the embarrassment: her face, however, had turned to a bright red.
Winston, who was napping near Etna's chair after two days worth of walking, bolts up when a rush of heat goes trough the emphatic link between him and the sorceress. Believing it to be something severe like a burn injury or something of the like, judging from how hot his face was.
After seeing the true reason of the sudden tug to the emphatic link, te dog barks and gets back to sleep.
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"D-do people usually write such...explicit acts on paper? I-I...I'll need some help to write something like this. Tkaara?" she asks weakly to the junkie barrister. "The handwriting won't be a problem but the...content is another story."
Still blushing profusely she mutters to herself "I can't believe people do things like that."
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Ottakar peers at the letter that so distressed the young woman. After a few moments, he raises an eyebrow in mild amusement. "Yes, all of this is entirely anatomically possible. This one, however, might well lead to rather uncomfortable physical injury..."
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Tkaara looks at the letter, over Etna's other shoulder, and chuckles.
Not only anatomically possible, but actually quite enjoyable. She points at one of the more explicit descriptions. That one is particularly fun, I hear that it is even better with two partners.
If you need some help, I think that I can create a letter in a similar tone that will cause Captain Mott to get a little hot under the collar. She again chuckles thinking about what to put into the inflammatory letter.
Bluff: <-- trying to replicate Mott's wife's tone. Could probably use an aid another or two if anyone wants to add their two cp.
Amused by both Etna's apparent discomfort and Ottakar's observations, Erevan takes a look at the letter as well with a little smile.
"I think you may be overdoing it a little," he offers his opinion to Tkaara. "Perhaps a little less bluntness and eagerness, a little more coyness. A bit of balance really. And may I suggest a double entendre or two?"
Etna's eyes grow wide at Tkaara's remark "Ho-how would you know that-Nevermind." the flustered ifrit throws her hands up in the air. "Just...just write whatever that trollop would say, and I'll copy it to the best of my ability." she concludes, trying to drop the conversation before she turns yet another shade of red.
Once she and the forsaken have come up with a precise plan, Etna starts working on the forged letter. After some minutes where she couldn't even manage to read the letters, the noblewoman resolves to just look at each single word and wall off her mind from the general meaning of the missive.
Surprisingly, the method works for the ifrit, and she reproduce the incriminating evidence as best as she can.
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Tkaara rather enjoys the uppity sorceress's discomfort, but maintains her placid demeanor throughout the drafting process. Once it is finished, she looks about the room.
Now for the more important question. How do we get this into Mott's hands on Fireday evening. Sure, just handing it to him will assuredly set him off, but he may suspect something. After all, he is not stupid, one does not rise to the rank of a senior officer without having some intellect.
Timeon said that he often took missives between Eddarly and Miss Mott, perhaps we can use a similar technique. She looks over at Felrin:
You have been in the fort a fair amount, would you be able to replicate the appearance and mannerisms of one of the boys or girls that runs messages? You could arrive at say 8:00, in the middle of Mott's shift. You could arrive out of breath and very apologetic, saying that you have a missive for Captain Eddarly, but forgot to deliver it earlier. You will ask Captain Mott to make sure that Captain Eddarly gets it. Then, thank him for helping you, turn, and get the hell out of there as fast as is appropriate. Of course, the label on the missive will be in Ms. Mott's flowery handwriting that Etna has so masterfully replicated.
Though Felrin has little to no experience with the practices described in the letter, he can’t help but chuckle at Etna’s response to it. ”I didn’t even take the most graphic of the letters,” he tells the others, ”as I thought that might be missed. I took an older one, since it seemed less likely the captain would notice its absence. They do seem to have become more…colorful over time. Perhaps if she survives to live under the coming reign of our master over Talingarde, she’ll be able to find work writing ‘entertainments’ for noble lords and ladies with a taste for such things. And Tkaara could be a consultant or some such.”
He’s quite impressed by Etna’s copying of the handwriting in the letter, and his eyes light up as he begins to formulate a plan. Just as he’s about to speak, Tkaara proposes something very similar. ”Yes, I could get a letter to Captain Mott, and ask him to pass it on. But I don’t see a need to try to disguise myself as a different servant. I’m a familiar enough face at Balentyne these days that no one even notices me. It’s quite entertaining actually, to be able to walk the halls of a fortress that I mean to see brought down by my efforts, and occasionally be given a few coins and a kind word in exchange for the service I provide. I do look forward to seeing everyone’s faces as they learn who has been amongst them, sweeping their floors, beating their rugs, and planning their downfall.”
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Taker gives Felrin a look of disgust when he even contemplates her being a consultant of such a nature.
When Felrin gets to discussing the delivery of the letter, she shakes her head:
From what Timeon said, Lady Mott uses kids as messengers. Why would she suddenly give an incriminating letter of this nature to some new person in town. Yes, if all goes as planned, then it should make no difference. However, if it does not, then we want all avenues covered. We want it to be her usual messenger. We want it delivered in something close to a normal method. And, most importantly, we DO NOT want anyone to come looking for the new guy in town to ask about where he got the letter, or anything of that sort. By assuming the appearance of a child messenger, and then discarding it for your "worker" appearance, or even for a nondescript guard appearance, you will be able to be out of there before the fireworks really begin. My guess is that Mott will read the letter soon after you deliver it, and, while it might be fun, I do no think that we want to be around when he loses it.
Thick, heavy flakes of snow are falling when you awake. Already 2 or 3 inches have settled on the ground, working their way into the mud of the roads and creating an icy slush for the wagons to negotiate on their way into market.
For the entire day, grey clouds hang low; it is barely light even at noon.
You attend your duties at the fort, and make some new discoveries. Providing hot drinks to the soldiers on the wall, your keen eyes spot some sort of winch mechanism just above the servant's entrance. It becomes clear that it is arranged to lower a stone block in the event that the lower levels fall, thereby preventing exit except through the main gatehouse.
Further, you take hot drinks to the dwarves on the top of the keep, who seem to ignore the icy blasts of wind driving snow into their faces; their beards are thick with white flakes. They are working on repairing the most enormous siege engine you have ever seen.
Finally, with the letter in hand, you adopt a new guise, seeking out Captain Mott as he prepares to go on duty. He is just putting on the last piece of his armour as he opens the door and takes receipt of the note with a grunt, acknowledging your request to pass it on to Captain Eddarly. As he closes the door, you see him notice the handwriting - he frowns, and looks startled. What could his wife be doing writing to Eddarly? Surely the messenger has got things mixed up...
???
You are settling in for supper at the inn, when you hear it: the bell ringing from the watchtower next door, shouts of alarm, the running armour-shod feet of the Watch. The buzz of conversation and drunkenness abates slightly in the room; soldiers pause in flirting conversation with the local women; even the dwarves put their ale mugs down for the briefest of moments.
The door bangs open. A soldier - a sergeant, from the fort, not one of the local Watch - staggers in. Clearly sober and still on duty, he is nevertheless wide-eyed with shock and disbelief. "Officer down!" He shouts, hoarsely. "All men, report back to Balentyne - NOW!" Swiftly, or as swiftly as possible, the carousing off-duty soldiers do as they are told, filing out of the tavern and marching - weaving - their way back to Balentyne.
Silence descends as they leave, before every voice at once erupts in speculation.
What have you done?
Etna passes the day at the inn, waiting for their plan to unfold. She had no intention or reason to go out in the snow like that.
Finally, in the afternoon, the sergeant comes.
"W-what's happening?" Jenna asks with faint voice to his cousin and the other patrons.
"Oh dear," Craigh replies, shock evident on his face. "It... it seems an officer has been hurt. Or is he dead?"
Looking around him, he reaches out to one of the patrons. "You, my good man! What does 'down' mean? Is someone dead?"
Behind his illusionary facade, Erevan smiles a crooked little smile.
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Tkaara, who is in a much better mood than usual due to the dark skies, and the covering of the seemingly ever brighter sun, spent the day socializing with people in town and continuing to seek out those knowledgable of the land around Aldencross to find a skilled tracker to aid the Professor in his research and finding unique animals and plants in the area.
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In the evening, she was socializing with some of the local soldiers when the alarm bell rung. Feeling both exhilaration and angst at the unknown of what had just occurred, she takes on a concerned look.
Oh my, is that alarm common here? It is the first I have heard the bell in the week I have been here.
Diplomacy(gather info): <--about plants, animals, and any other useful info she can get - probably useless, but she is going to maintain the guise to the end
Fort: <-- due to the fine weather, Tkaara hardly feels any urge to dig into her medicine bag this day
Later in the evening, depending upon what actually happened, she speaks with the others.
I think that, if some tragedy has befallen the mighty fort, that some entertainment would be appropriate. If we were to retain the great playwright to put on a performance in the town square the night we set things in motion, that would probably draw many of the off duty guards. She points at the stone and related mechanism. If we could drop the stone, that would trap many of the soldiers outside the fort. While their goal is to keep any invaders in the fort, I am sure that the bugbears would be able to scale down the wall. But, more importantly, we can get a huge number in the tunnel the Doctor found. Then, while the soldiers stage to attack the fort from without, we release the hounds, er, bugbears, from beneath the inn.
As he hands out hot drinks to the dwarves, Felrin looks with interest at the work they're doing. "Interesting..." he says, "it's got some similarities to a powerful watch spring, the way it's wound. I was apprenticed to a watchmaker for a while, and I'm always intrigued by the similarities among different machines. Can I ask what's wrong with it - aside from not keeping very good time?"
"A very interesting notion, Tkaara," Felrin says in response to the suggested use of the stone. "If nothing else, we might be able to use the stone to divide the defenders into two forces. And if we could pull off what you suggest, we might well be able to have our friends inside the fort, picking off the soldiers as they attempt to lay siege to their own fortress!" He can't help but chuckle quietly as the image forms in his mind, adding, "I like it, I like it..."
He's interrupted by the shocking announcement that something seems to have happened to one of the officers of Fort Balentyne, and the hasty departure of the soldiers from the Lord's Dalliance. "Oh, dear," he says, getting to his feet, "what can have happened? I hope no one I know there has been harmed! I must go see."
He moves to the door and follows closely behind the body of soldiers as they make their way to the fort. Approaching the rear of the group, he asks someone he recognizes, and who would likely recognize him, "Any idea what's happened? Have they told you anything?"
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The only thing occurring today that is of any consequence is the trial (or, more properly, a court-martial). No business takes place: the market is cancelled; all shops are shut.
Nobody - not even servants - are admitted to the fort. Nevertheless, gossip leaks like a sieve, so you all get to hear what happened as if you had been there:
The Defendant
Captain Mott sits, in his rumpled uniform, unshaven and blank-faced. He is not in irons, in deference to his rank; but he is unarmed and closely guarded.
He speaks only to confirm his identity, before sitting again, slumped in his seat.
The Court
Lord Havelyn, in full ceremonial armour of the Knights of the Alerion, presides over the 3-man panel. On his right Captain Samuel Barhold sits stony-faced, glowering at the officer who has brought disgrace - and worse, ill-discipline - on the regiment.
Finding a third member for the court-martial was tricky; initially, there was some discussion about whether to try and locate Captain Varning and recall him - but then Lord Havelyn prevailed on Magister-Captain Tacitus, who sits, reluctant and fidgeting, on Lord Havelyn's left.
The Charges
Captain Mott is charged with murder, assault, resisting arrest, abandoning his post, and conduct unbecoming an officer. A charge of duelling unto death is pending. He refuses to speak in his defence; anticipating this, Father Donnagin, deeply distressed by the entire matter, has spent the entire night in preparation. He will speak on Mott's behalf.
Father Donnagin does so eloquently, pleading for the mitigating circumstances to be taken into account: the fact that he loves his wife, the nature by which he found out the affair, the sense of shame he felt - which turned to rage, the ready access to weapons, the sense of remorse after the fact.
Mott does not look remorseful. He looks blank.
The Verdict
Lord Havelyn waits, patiently, for his friend Father Donnagin to finish. He does not interrupt; he listens closely, as to Magister Tacitus. Captain Barhold sits, in silence. It is clear that he has made up his mind already.
Finally, Donnagin falls silent. The panel confers, in whispers. Barhold says almost nothing; Tacitus rather more.
Lord Havelyn then addresses the defendant directly. "Captain Franz Mott, you have by your actions brought death to a fellow-Captain. You have brought shame upon this regiment. Worst of all, you have imperilled your very soul. This court is satisfied that the charge of murder stands: you learned of the affair some hours before you acted. You had a number of options open to you, and you deliberately chose violence. You waited and conspired to attack your target. I reject the charge of duelling unto death. This was no duel - an armed, armoured man against his counterpart; this was the action of a coward and a murderer against his unarmed victim."
"This court strips you of the rank of Captain. This court discharges you from the regiment. This court finds you guilty on all charges. As you are aware, the punishment for murder is death by beheading."
"Since you are no longer a soldier, this court will hand you over to the civilian authorities. You will therefore be taken from this court to a place of execution, there to await your fate until such time as the Crown deems it fit to carry out the sentence. May Mitra have mercy on your soul."
Lord Havelyn looks sad, but solemn. Captain Barhold and Magister-Captain Tacitus look satisfied. Mott looks blank. Father Donnagin weeps, silently, before composing himself and leading Mott back to his cell.
Aftermath
The Mayor - Dominik Vallinson - and the town watch take custody of Mott some time later, once the furor has died down. Under guard, Mott will shortly be escorted to the city of Daveryn, and thence - by stages - to the newly restored and operational Branderscar prison.
At some point that night, Kaitlyn Mott leaves town, with her few possessions and a fast horse. It is rumoured that she has distant cousins in Farholde, the Westernmost town in Talingarde, and haven for all disreputable types. It is widely agreed that she will fit in there perfectly.
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Hearing what happened, Tkaara takes on a surprised and concerned demeanor.
When she has the time, she tries to find the innkeeper's wife to discuss what happened.
My goodness, it is horrible. I would never have thought that soldiers in the Talingarde army would fall to such violent and evil ends, let alone officers. How long will it be before they are replaced. Are there lower officers capable of taking on the duties of the captains?
As she considers this, suddenly another, pre-planned, thought strikes her.
And the tramp, er, Lady Mott, fleeing like that. She was very involved in charity here in town. Who will help now? Are there other citizens who will step in and take her place?
Jenna turns completely white after she hears what happened. "By...by Mitra's light..." she manages to whisper, sobbing quietly. "I went to Kaitlyn's the day before: she said she had something to do on Fireday, but I never would have thought...Maybe, if I had been more inquisitive, for once..." as her sobs grow louder, the noblewoman reaches to her cousin for support, while inwardly grinning to herself.
It all went perfectly: two captains out, and that trollop got what she deserved! I couldn't care less about what she did or why, but living in infamy from now on is the least she deserves for forcing me to write that...disgusting letter.
Evening
Despite all the excitement that's occurred, Tereth Caldwyn still keeps his appointment with you, arriving at the inn promptly at 7 o clock. He's made an effort: despite (still) looking somewhat pasty and in need of fresh air, his clothes are pressed and he is well presented and clean-shaven.
Entering the main room of the Lord's Dalliance, he looks around nervously and chooses a table near the carousing dwarves, where the noise from them will prevent any eavesdropping. Once you are both seated, he does his best to look composed, but he's clearly out of his depth dealing with someone as attractive (and unscrupulous) as the barrister. With trembling hands, he pushes a wrap of paper towards you, concealed under a napkin. He mumbles "I understand this is what you were asking for - I can make more, but please keep it to yourself and stay away from my shop, alright? I don't want to attract attention." He is visibly perspiring.
Making a great effort to relax, he breathes out and in again, heavily. He looks again at Tkaara, but is too distracted by her figure to read her intentions. "So, um, why have you invited me here?"
With Tkaara under clear, repeated instructions to 'keep the fool occupied, whatever it takes' the two of you undertake an illicit tour of Master Caldwyn's Cauldron. The door is locked (and trapped), but Felrin's skill prevails and he bypasses it, leaving no sign that you were ever here.
Ottakar's keen senses pick up the presence of all sorts of interesting reagents; he'd possibly been inclined to doubt the blonde drug addict's ramblings, but it's clear she was right: this is far too well stocked for a provincial little store. Nothing obviously illegal in itself, but some things when combined could be... promising. Tincture of wolfsbane, arsenous acid, essence of nightshade - yes, definitely enough here to concoct a suitable poison.
Also: take the materials now, and risk Caldwyn alerting the Watch; or come back another time?
Then it hits you: where is the laboratory? A supply of material such as this means a top-notch laboratory, and it is nowhere to be seen.
Felrin meanwhile goes through the alchemist's papers, finding little out of the ordinary in the books or manifest: Caldwyn appears to be scrupulous in his stock-taking and his accounts.
The only items of interest are the title deed to a warehouse on the other side of Aldencross; and an invoice from "Eisenbauch Engineering" (aka the dwarves currently working on the fort) for work carried out earlier this year in digging out and building a cellar.
Felrin is confident that there is no cellar (or secret door) in this shop.
You are invited over to the Vallinsons' manor house for the evening, where Dominik tells you of his anguish at having to take Captain Mott into custody, and how awful it all is: "I knew that chap Eddarly was no gentleman, but still, I can't believe what's happened..."
His wife Vanessa, pale, but rather more composed than her husband, ensures that you are well supplied with fortifying brandy.
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Tkaara smiles back at Tereth, accepting the package and slipping it into her pouch while playing with her hair as though uncomfortable with what to say. She then looks over to the tables where the soldiers are usually drinking at this time of night, obviously empty with the recall to the fort.
Um, well, in the south there are many with whom a lady can have both an entertaining and interesting discussion. While the soldiers are interested in a good time, they lack the intellect to keep me entertained for long. My companion, the Professor, is brilliant, but talking to him is like having a discussion with the research section of a library.
This is a very . . . quaint town, but except for physical diversions, I have not been able to gain any real stimulation since I have been here. On the other hand, your profession, although perhaps not viewed in the light that some others in Talingarde are, is without a doubt one of the most intellectually demanding. As such, I was hoping to get to know you better so that I could maintain some basic level of stimulation while I am here in the cold north.
She takes a sip of her wine while the clearly uncomfortable alchemist attempts to digest all this, before smiling back at the alchemist.
Or, to put it another way. A girl needs something to keep her going, both in mind and body.
Tkaara is going to switch her Wandering Hex (from the shaman part of the Spirit Guide archetype. Until further notice, she will have Flame as her spirit, and Cinder Dance as her wandering hex.
Diplomacy: <--ooh, she is on fire, literally and figuratively considering the hex I chose
Bluff:
"It is indeed a tragedy," Craigh agrees with a nod, the expression on his face sad as he takes a sip of brandy. "An officer dead, another in that awful awful prison and Lady Mott fleeing, her reputation ruined." He shakes his head thoughtfully. "Not that I am defending her, of course. If anything, she seems to have been in the middle of this. But alas, such things rarely remain secret for long."
He takes another sip of brandy. "A terrible terrible affair..."