Imix smiles toothily "I do. I have seen you at Court - of course I was wearing this at the time." he hoists the Suriname headdress high in the air. He waves at the men airily "If we meet by happenstance alone, then by all means feel free to continue to use your status to demean the Shadeholmers. If you are investigating the accusations of theft - or the massed Mountain Men on the border - then I am happy to share my observations." He bows politely "I admit my hope of a challenge is illogical, but I have not been challenged since we fought the Demon-dark Avian and the Mountain Men, and that was days ago."
He hesitates "I certainly do not wish to critique your combat skills unseen, but are you aware that if you continue on this road you will find a pack of giant wolves and a murder of ravens so large it blots out the sky? We passed them as they squabbled over the bodies of men - though it is likely the men were simply killed by other men." Taking momentary silence as assent he continues "It is pleasant to see the families of royalty bravely walking out to the front lines, rather than staying in Cornucopia."
Over the next few days Istiel will keep an eye on the traveler as instructed, being as discreet as possible.
The blessings of Damballah run down Istiel's mask in a cascade, occasionally getting in her eyes. She cares not, for wipining away the life giving liquid would be quite profane in her mind.
She watches the exchange between Imix and the nobles with amusement. The warrior-monk was sure the boys were sqwuaking upstarts with no bones to hold up their inflated egos, but they were noble upstarts none-the-less. She could not, and would not, do anything in this situation unless random violence broke out.
Clovin is a genial fellow, slow-moving both in thought and deed, except when he thinks there may be a sale for his wares. He makes his way around the caravan, sure to talk to everyone, generally being inquisitive, and always ending his talks with a variation of the same pitch: you/your loved ones would get great use out of this bowl/mortar/spoon.
===============
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As for etiquette, you know killing a royal is very bad form, and likely to get one a walk into the crocodile pits, regardless of whether 1) they deserve it, 2) it was self-defense, and 3) they are even well-liked or respected within their own house. Nobility sticks with nobility, always.
The boys' eyes widen as Imix produces his helmet. They trade quick glances, before Heavy-Set speaks up, a slight tremble in his voice. "We meant no disrespect, Suriname Imix. But your presence here begs the question - why do you travel with thieves and murderers?"
That evening, the temperature dips below freezing. Your excise spends the night at a rural Way Point, like the one near the mouth of the Cheya Canal, a three-sided structure with just a common room, communal kitchen, and a few outhouses outside. The rain turns to snow, falling softly from the sky, muffling sound and bringing a stillness to those gathered for the evening.
Wrapped in blankets, conversation is muted and sparse. Still, Rigel works the room, with little success, barring one amazing rumor coming from a man headed west for his mother's funeral: Ayida Wedu, or a manifestation of her, was born yesterday morning, rising from the hearth of an orphanage bordering Three Corners Square. Since the miracle birth, citizens have been flocking to the Three Corners in droves.
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The morning comes in cold, with a southerly wind piling the snow into drifts along the roadway. Korya seems to be suffering from the exposure, sniffling this morning and coughing, lagging behind the excise from the start, her pack weighing her down. Clovin and the Meadsthons, by contrast, are almost giddy with anticipation - tomorrow evening will find you all in Shadeholme, and as some of the most devout people on the caravan, they can't wait to see Ayida Wedu's living body.
Otherwise, the day passes much as the others before them, though without incident. Slowed by the snow, you arrive late in the evening at the White Muskrat, a three-story Way Point at the first real sizable settlement you've seen since leaving Shadeholme - the town of Marinette's Folly.
As usual, the laborers and militia will spend the night with the excise, while light spills from the windows of the Muskrat, beckoning you into the warm common room.
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Gozrahn 6 RETCON
==================
The morning comes in cold, with a southerly wind piling the snow into drifts along the roadway. Korya seems to be suffering from the exposure, sniffling this morning and coughing, lagging behind the excise from the start, her pack weighing her down. Clovin and the Meadsthons, by contrast, are almost giddy with anticipation - tomorrow evening will find you all in Cornucopia, and as some of the most devout people on the caravan, they can't wait to visit Three Corners and lay their eyes on Ayida Wedu's living body.
Three Corners is a city square in Cornucopia, a legal no-man's land where three neighborhoods meet, though none of the 'hoods have ever had legal jurisdiction over the square itself. The orphanage is off one side of the square. Rare in such a tightly controlled community, the strange legal status of Three Corners allows for artistic freedom, religious heresies, and crime to flourish within the square. It is also a holy spot to Ghede, and as such that status with the no-man's legal status of the square means that the activities there have largely been overlooked by the king in the past.
The news of the miracle birth piques her curiosity. After all, if the monks were on their way to godhood, it seems reasonable the reserve could be true; the gods may wish to grace the mortal world occasionally. She turns her head to Suuha to remark: [b]"Ayida Wedu reborn. If true she must have a mission among us."[b] There was a hint of skepticism in her voice, but she was interested enough to see for herself. Hopefully this is not the result of a child falling into the cold firepit.
Imix gestures for Chukix to set up somewhere for the guests to sit. "These are things you need to hear. It will take perhaps a quarter of an hour to give you my testimony." he assures the nobles, assuring Utzi and Tex "I will catch up.". Once the boys are seated - and everyone but their servants and Chukix moved on - he starts talking.
"If you mean the accusation their men led a raid on another town's Excise, then I do not think it true. It will take fifteen minutes to brief you, I suggest we have a hot drink. I trust you to have chosen servants with discretion." Carefully, methodically, Imix runs through everything that has happened since Texikuk woke him that fateful night. Everything, including his relationship with Texikuk and the things that are embarrassing. Everything is presented from his point of view - meaning he portrays Rigel as the Mayor's assassin - but he is careful to differentiate what he heard, and what he directly saw. He answers any questions put to him as best he can, once again careful to separate what he knows, what he has heard, and what he suspects.
"It is my supposition that the forces sent to attack the raiders were destroyed, and the shield was in the raider's possesion. I am half convinced that there is a deliberate campaign to destroy the social channels that make us an Empire, rather than merely a collection of neighbouring towns and cities. Certainly if things continue I foresee civil war, followed by a conquering force."
In a rare display of emotion, he clasps one of the boy's hands "I thank the Gods that House Claviger is out here. Perhaps you can help keep everything together while I seek audience in Cornucopia."
"May I know why you were sent out in this weather, and where you go? I do not ask you to violate sworn confidentiality."
As a player I am very curious to know their attitudes to the various revelations, as it suggests what Imix's reactions should be, and how his news might be received at court. Feel free to roll Sense Motive if you like, but I am more interested in their declared attitudes than secret feelings.
* Keeping back excise
* Mountain men
* Dark demon things
* Poisoning of the environment around the lake
* Talking wolves
* Rigel as assassin
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Gozrahn 6
==================
Drazan still shirtless in the falling snow stays with the excise outside, the open sky preferable to an enclosed space. He has spent too much time inside for his tastes. While there is still an hour of daylight, he'll take the time to wander the wilds away from the excise to be surrounded by nature and away from eyes casting him as an outsider, returning shortly before bedding to sleep.
===========
Gozrahn 5
===========
Suuha shrugs, lulled into an unusual bout of reflection - and quietude - by the warm blankets and falling snow. His voice comes thick with sleep. "Wonder what such a mission would be. Why would the sky goddess come to us? Must be something wondrous..."
Chukix busies himself with the other servants, cleaning off a section of the ground, scooping handfuls of snow into a pot and topping it with mate leaves, waiting for you to warm it, and then clearing a spot for the students, who sit quietly in the cold. Except for Tepix that is, who pulls a long, slimy booger from his nose and rolls it into a ball between his fingers.
The Claviger boys, you can tell, are at first skeptical, even given your station. They are not used to being ordered around except by family and perhaps cherished - and venerable - servants. But, as you speak, you can see that you have their attention; the boys sit eyes wide, their emotions playing unguarded across their faces. On occasion they interject with questions or comments, excitement or wonder in their voices.
Blue-Eyes whistles, long and low, and looks to Heavy-Set and Long-nose. "King's gonna be shirked to all get-out."
Long-Nose snorts. "We heard about them. Coming down from the mountains, some sort of raid? No need to be worried in my opinion - they're little smarter than animals. Our warriors will prevail."
The boys look at you, skeptical and incredulous, but also you can see a hint of fear on their faces.
Blue-Eyes waves his hands dismissively. "Tooyah superstition. They've overfished their waters, nothing more. I've heard nothing of the sort anyways."
Heavy-Set asks, "You know how language was created, yes?" Worry clouds the boy's brow.
Blue-Eyes spits. "If the Lord Mayor of Shadeholme is training assassins, that's a walk to the crocs. Though he might be headed there anyways, with holding back the excise and all."
Their story isn't quite as interesting. Heavy-Set shrugs. "We're headed to escort our uncle to the city for the Excise Ceremony."
Imix grits his teeth as Tepix shames him. Doesn't he realise how he is honoured?
"With respect, I disagree. What you refer to as smartness I believe is what makes us an Empire. We can work together. Delay gratification. Arrange supply lines. Organise strategy. They now have these qualities. If you told me all the coywolves in all the kingdom had come together into a true army, I would be just as worried. More, the shadowy figures behind the Mountain Men have organised them. The power that implies is, if anything, more worrying. As for numbers, my estimate would be at least a hundred. Enough to threaten any of the outlying towns - even without their supernatural allies."
"I do. I can see no reason why the gods would reverse their decision, unless it was no longer needed. The only reason I can see it would no longer be needed is if the Age of Man is ending."
Imix waves "Oh, we will never prove it. There is no tie. For all intents she is simply a simple peasant girl who happens to be extraordinarily good at killing warriors in the dark, sneaking, brave enough to stand up to Magistrates and a Suriname, and cold bloodedly pragmatic."
"Thank you for choosing to listen. I am now going to discipline one of my apprentices, if you would care to watch. If you wish to keep going, my information is now yours, and may the gods keep you safe."
"Ah, Oios. Uh, been looking for you." Rigel hops from foot to foot, slightly self-consciously. "Thanks for- you know, for standing up for us when Shadeholme was accused, even though they had evidence. You put your own word on the line, and I wanted you to know I, uh, I appreciate it."
No flirting, no knowing eye contact, no attempts to use an honorific; just pure, straightforward, honesty. It's worse than being naked: at least she's used to that (although not, perhaps, as often as rumours might suggest).
She blushes, crimson.
"Anyway, the second thing. That Order of the Stag thing you wanted to know about? I found some stuff. Apparently, some guy hired them for a muscle job, don't know what. The guy doing the hiring was apparently a tall guy with bronzed skin, blond hair, Tkoyah accent. Simple clothes, probably a disguise. Described as being "proper" - possibly religious or bureaucrat. Had a silver chain with a fox on it, dangled from his neck. Very concerned about secrecy. The guy from the Order was described as medium build, pale skin, missing a tooth. Apparently he had a ghandasa with him, darkwood and obsidian. Had 5 companions with him."
She's still blushing, although the worst of it is fading. "Anyway. Hope that helps. I'm at a loss, myself. But then, I trade in information, not answers. Maybe you can put it all together? If you do, don't be shy with telling us, hmm?"
So, they think we're hayseeds, do they? OK, let's go with that...
"Hey, Imix! Watcha talkin' to 'em abou- ooops!" Rigel 'accidentally' goes sprawling head over heels, in a tangle of limbs and bare flesh, by pure coincidence landing in very close proximity to the leader. "Hey - oh - so sorry!" She gets up and bows, hastily, apparently heedless of the view this affords them. "Rigel Quicklingfay at your service; I'm daughter - well, adopted, really - of Shadeholm's mayor, but you boys are royalty, right? Sorry about Imix challenging you, he didn't mean nuthin' by it, but Suriname see the world different, you know? Good on facts, but not so good with people; he can give the wrong impression sometimes... " She prattles on for a while, basically trying to give them the impression that she's a nice girl who likes a good time, but is basically harmless.
"... An' I guess y'all think we talk funny, huh? Listen, as I'm here insteada the mayor, I might hafta do some 'splaining about the excise being held back, an' I wanna talk proper - any of you wanna look out for me when ya get back to Cornucopia, maybe help me with that?" She gives the leader her best cute look.
"An' I swear, cross my heart-" she makes a gesture to that effect in the appropriate region "- we din't have anything to do with what them people's accusin' us of..."
Hopefully, if she makes a favourable impression on them (as basically a harmless - and not criminal at all - good time girl), they'll spread the word in her favour - and Shadeholme's; even if it's just that they're too stupid to have pulled off such an audacious raid...
The boys seem unconcerned. Blue-eyes simply offers you a patronizing smile. "Hundreds? Who cares? Our army is thousands strong, and our king is the grandchild of Damballah. A few hundred Frozen are no concern of us."
Standing the boys nod to their servants, and the men begin packing their bags. "While I'm sure it would do our men-servants well to watch a show of discipline, as I said we're -- oh!"
Rigel goes sprawling in front of Blue-Eyes, surprising the boy mid-sentence. "...do our men-servants well to watch a show of discipline, as I said we're -- oh!"
All three boys look the woman up and down, shock on the Blue-Eyes' face, a lascivious grin on the face of Long-Nose, and concern gracing Heavy-Set's countenance.
Stepping forward, Heavy-Set offers Rigel his hand while she prattles on. "I'll auh, of course, be happy to help you, miss. Please look me up - we'll be back by the time the Excise Ceremony starts. I'm Bally, and you can find me at my family's manor - #12 River Lane, Croc Mound."
Blue-Eyes roles those piercing orbs, and looks to Imix. "Of course, you didn't, dear. That much is obvious."
Nodding, the boys take their places under their servant's parasols, and begin their trip to their uncle's manor to the west.
Imix bids the boys farewell and disciplines Tepix. He then channels three times, until the boy is able to walk again. "And now, thanks to Tepix, you will all receive a crash course in etiquette. The declension for royalty is..."
Oios harrumphs as the noble brats move off and motions Rigel, Imix, Isitel, and Drazan aside. Shadeholme is at war for its reputation. It will take all of your influence Imix and your skills Rigel to work against the rumours that have spread ahead of us. Perhaps you should work with each other and not against each other hrm? There are many dark things happening about us. And too many secrets. Rigel the weapon you had described. Do you think it was this one? Oios pulls out the still blood stained ghadansa and shows it to the other four I found it with the five dead men
Drazan notices Oios waving him over and answers him but not without a glance of hesitation out of his own ignorance on whatever it is that is conspiring.
Drazan stands in silence as Oios calls to Imix and Rigel to cooperate and even as the bloody weapon is procured for examination. Drazan even raises a brow in curiousity at Rigel to see where this is going.
Istiel moves over to Oios, stopping in front of him with her hands folded over each other at the waist.
She shares a similar demeanor to Drazen, but the monk does briefly speak. "Corporation is the foundation of success." A simple saying, and nothing more.
Hazel eyes fall on the bloodied weapon. A beautiful weapon. It would make a fine gift to any warrior. It should be cleaned before it stains.
**
Gozrahn 5
**
It would have been good to have extra pairs of perceptive and knowledgeable eyes when I examined the bodies Oios says raising his eyebrows at Rigel and Imix for a moment before continuing But the dead men had been killed in their campsite without struggle about a day before we found them. Their weapons had seen recent use but they were all of standard make, this ghandasa was the only one of exceptional quailty and the only one stained with blood. The men had been killed without struggle. Perhaps while they were sleeping. I was not able to identify where the dead men were from.
Istiel ponders the situation described by Oios. "Perhaps it was a group of six. One used the ghandasa to kill the others in their sleep. They left the weapon because it is identifiable." She casts a glance at Oios. "I would keep the blade out of sight."
Rigel returns Drazan's questioning look with a shrug: No idea.
Shadeholme is at war for its reputation. It will take all of your influence Imix and your skills Rigel to work against the rumours that have spread ahead of us. Perhaps you should work with each other and not against each other hrm? There are many dark things happening about us. And too many secrets. Rigel the weapon you had described. Do you think it was this one? Oios pulls out the still blood stained ghadansa and shows it to the other four I found it with the five dead men
Rigel gives Oios an impish look, her earlier embarrassment forgotten. "Just making friends and influencing people, Ancient One; and I needed to make sure Imix didn't share any of Texikuk's suspicions with them..."
She trails off as Oios reveals the ghadansa. "Yes, that's it, I'm sure; couldn't be two like that, could there?" She shudders at the obvious bloodstains. "Well, we have the weapon and a description of the owner, just need to keep an eye out for him."
She pauses. "I wonder who those dead men were? Why kill them?"
Oios nods at Isitel and puts it away The etchings on the blade mark it as belonging to The Order of The Stag. A mercenary company of elite ex soliders working for the rich and the powerful. I doubt the dead men belonged to this. So we have Dannet, short olive skinned Excise Head of Piney Bluff, spreading tales of Shadeholme soldiers attacking and stealing furs. We have a Tall blonde Tkoyah with a silver fox chain searching for mercenaries and hiring the Order of the Stag whose weapon we found on the dead men. Oios summarizes with a shake of his head. What did the dead men know that was worth killing them to keep hidden?
"And what does the owner look like?" Drazan added
You move out of town, a walk of a few minutes. There's a satisfying crunch to your feet moving through the snowfall, even as the storm itself seems to be calming. Winding along this place's sacred waterfront (a lake, large and cold, and unlike anything you've seen around Shadeholme), you come across a an old growth forest, strange to see in the middle of this farm country, as this forest looks like it hasn't been managed - or even touched - by the hand of man in centuries.
Which of course means it is a perfect place to venture into. Crunching along, you marvel at the trees above you, as tall as any in Shadeholme's prodigious woods. Here, the trees are mostly firs, under which little snow lies, and instead, large circles of pine needles, brown and moldering, give the forest a pleasant smell.
You move further into the forest, enjoying the solitude, climbing over felled trunks, and shuffling through needles, snow and leaves, when you hear the flapping of wings. Looking to the right, and up, you see a large black bird has alighted on a the bare branch of an old maple tree, its weight causing the snow to flutter down.
It flaps its wings, two, three, four swift beats, and then it opens its beak, one eye fixed firmly on you.
"Krraa! Krraa! Krraa!" And then a gurgling croak.
A blast of warm air hits you as you open the door. Not only is the fire roaring, but the Way Point is as well. Loud voices, laughter, yelling, mugs clanking on the wooden tables, a group of musicians playing the pan pipes in the corner. There has to be sixty people in here - finding a place to lay your bed will be difficult.
Weaving their way through the crowd are three young women, a redhead, a brunette, and one with blonde hair, all carrying serving trays deftly, dropping drinks off and picking them up with nary a spill, smiling, flirting, but all the while scootching deftly away from wandering hands.
Behind the bar stands a scruffy man, late twenties, black hair cascading down past his shoulders. He's alert, you can see from the way her surveys the room, especially the three barmaids, whom it seems his eyes never wander far from.
The table nearest the bar is also the largest in the room, and its been commandeered by a group of gamblers, playing the popular (and easy to gamble to) dice game of 19. A woman, dark-skinned, muscular, perhaps late thirties, with long and curly blonde hair stands drunkenly at the head of the table, laughing and yelling at the other assembled gamblers.
"Ai, fookers! I'll take the rest of your money tonight, and then I'll take your homes too!" A look passes over the woman's face sadness, or perhaps guilt - but just for a second before she pushes whatever crossed her mind away. "And then I'll take yer firstborns too, suckers!"
Hamfatten pushes by the woman to the bar, and laying down three goldstones onto the counter, points to the lot of you. Seems he's buying the first drink.
Drazan ceases in his meditation of the cold silence to look upon the creature. After spotting the bird he watches it, thoughts absent, breath misting before he begins to press on, wondering if it was a stray crow from the murder.
As Drazan turns to leave, the bird lifts from the branch and buzzes by the man from Fire Peaks, before landing again on the branch it had occupied. Then it flits twenty or so feet further into the forest, and lands on another branch. "Krraa! Krraa!"
Istiel gives the tavern a quick scan as she enters, arms folded at chest height. There were too many people and things moving to get a good feel of the situation, but it seemed safe enough to her.
Walking past the table of gamblers she casts her eye over the dark-skinned woman, briefly wondering who she is, and where she acquired so much energy.
The bar wasn't far off, and by the time she arrives the monk has changed her mind from matte to chicha. It would do well to relax before entering the Capital, she convinces herself.
Istiel gives Hamfatten a nod of gratitude before leaning in towards the bar and rapping her calloused knuckles on the fir wood. "Chicha. Hot." Projects from behind her masked visage, loud enough to be heard above the cacophony.
Or perhaps something more sinister.
Drazan walks toward the bird for a long as he can follow it at a walking pace.
On into the forest you walk. The storm spent, the cloud cover is gone, and the snowfall shines brightly in the moonlight. The black bird flits from branch to branch, you both wending around the lakeside, the water occasionally appearing black and silent to your right. You hit a marshy area, and follow the bird in, wading through icy cold water, to a small hillock that slopes gently out of the marsh, about twenty feet high.
The bird lands atop a mound of vegetation itself on top of the hillock, and waits patiently while you catch up. Once atop the hillock, you see the mound of vegetation is actually a stone outcropping, covered in vines, curled and browned from the past winter's cold.
"Krrrraaaaaa!" The bird lifts itself into the air and circles above you once, before diving and flying straight past you into the side of the outcropping you are facing, its small body crashing into the stone with a crunch, and then dropping to the ground, its neck twisted and wings twitching with the last spasms of a life departed.
As Istiel passes the woman, the monk can make out some more details. The woman is muscular and wiry, and wears a nicely tailored suit of hide armor, that while well-kept has seen obvious use, with plenty of nicks and scrapes along the chestpiece. The woman herself has a large scar running from behind her ear down her neck, and her knuckles are misshapen, having been broken many times in the past - she's obviously no stranger to violence. Slamming her fist on the table as she loses the game of 19 she's engrossed in, the woman reaches into a large satchel at her side, and pulls a handful of silverstones from it. The woman's also apparently very wealthy.
The barkeep nods and grabs and earthware pot from the hearth behind him, dumping some chicha into a mug for Istiel. Leaning in, he yells. "Welcome, warrior-monk! We do our hot chicha here mulled, here. I think you'll love the spices."
Drazan steps up to the broken, dead bird to examine the scene. How strange, he thinks to himself.
If there is nothing to be seen where the bird lie, Drazan climbs to the top of the hillock to see what he can spy from there.
Imix goes quiet in the snow. His pace slows, he turns over the teaching to Chukix, and he stumbles a few times. A lot of his energy seems to go into warming his mask as some sort of protection against the cold.
"Ah!" he sighs, slowly starting to warm up. "Warmth. I had forgotten how good it feels."
He doesn't especially interested in the pub, but after a minute he turns around and puts his back to the fire, looking out over the main room.
The bird is most assuredly, dead. While the behavior that lead up to its death is interesting, even more interesting is the stone outcropping the bird crashed itself into. Pushing aside some of the just budding vines around the stone, you find that the stone where the bird hit is, once uncovered, perfectly smoothed over.
Removing more of the vines uncovers a door, ancient as near as you can tell, well made, almost seamlessly fitting into the outcropping. There's a small carved indentation on the front, most likely a handle.
Pull or push, Drazan tries to open the door.
After a day spent silently trudging, enduring the wet and the cold, Rigel seems to burst into life as soon as she steps through the doorway, as if cold, grey embers have spontaneously combusted.
Throwing herself into the thick of things, she works the room, with a chat here, a nod there and a quick flirtatious wink elsewhere, seemingly chattering away without purpose, but always, always listening to what's being said - and what's not being spoken aloud.
The game of 19 certainly looks interesting to the monk. Not the gambling, but the people playing it. Something about that hardened woman has piqued her interest. A mercenary, perhaps.
She leans her back against the bar and unties the bottom strap of her mask, freeing the built in veil to drape it down to her neck. Istiel passively watches the woman and the game of 19 while slowly sipping her warming spiced drink.
With a little tugging and shower of dirt, the door opens, revealing a well-made set of stone stairs leading down into the darkness...
--------------
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Way Point, Gozrahn 6
========================
Imix takes his seat at the fire as Rigel starts working the room, a seeming torpor coming over the Suriname as he slowly warms.
The bartender nods thanks to Istiel, and his attention is soon diverted by one of the serving girls. "Lourna, what can I getcha?"
The Way Point is a lively place this evening, and Rigel flits about from table to table and person to person. Many of the patrons here leave with the town's excise in the morning, and here celebrating.
There is other talk too, of course. Bandits seem to be plaguing the Levee Road to the north of Coruncopia - three different patrons report hearing of a group of murdered men and women found along the road, their possessions stripped from the bodies.
Most of the talk, however, is about the miracle birth in the capital. Rumors fly as to what the earthly manifestation of Ayida-Wedu looks like. Some say she is a baby, golden-skinned like the sun, given to great bouts of joy. Others say she came fully formed into this world a full-grown woman, tall and slender, with pale skin and long black braided hair, and beautiful black-feathered wings. Still others say she's not a person at all, but rather a small winged tabby, brightly striped in shades of orange.
Rigel makes her way around the room, ending up next to the blond woman gambling. As Rigel tries to make conversation, the woman snaps. "Away with ya! You'll take the shine off me hand!"
As she shakes her dice, you notice the back of the woman's hand has a small black tatoo on the skin by the thumb and index finger - a stag's head.
Rearing back she throws the next round of dice, glaring at Rigel as the dice bust.
Way Point, Gozrahn 6
Oios sits quietly at a table sipping his matte. It used to be that he was good at gathering information at places like these but in his own unique way. There had been little that a barkeep would not tell him to get the inquisitor away from spoiling the good cheer of paying customers
But that relied on the full authority of the inquisitorial arm of the clergy supporting him and with that gone along with his position there was little he could do to cajole information out of the staff or customers of the Way Point. No, this was purely Rigel's world now.
Strange... Drazan descends the stairway lighting a torch to push back the darkness.
Rigel knows - at least by reputation - a number of people in the small underworld that exists in the Baunti valley. She racks her brains, trying to remember if she recognises the woman now glaring at her. If not, oh well, she has other options.
Sidling up to Oios, she purrs at him: "Hey, Old One. Quit feeling sorry for yourself; I got some work for you. See that blondie? She's throwing a lot of money around; if I told you she has a Stag tattoo on her hand, d'you want to make a guess how she earned it? Bet she could tell you who that ghandasa belongs to. Why don't you and Istiel see what you can 'persuade' her to tell you?"
Lighting the torch, you make your way down the stairs. The stairs themselves are shallow in incline, a few feet wide, and short in depth, just a few inches above the next. Obviously old, they've held up well over time. The hall, or tunnel, depending on how you look at it, only drops about fifteen feet in depth, but takes a long, circular path in length, winding and turning . The walls of the tunnel are carved of perfectly fitted stone, placed into place one atop the next, culminating in an arched point at the top, just over your head. While the ceiling is low, the tunnel is also wide.
Before you hit the bottom of the stairs, you hit water, cold and murky in the torchlight, having seeped in from the marsh outside.
Wading in, the water comes to your knees, and you duck under the threshold of a doorway, the door obviously made for a peoples slightly smaller than yourself.
You find yourself into a large circular room, with a carved, vaulted ceiling. The room is perhaps a little smaller than the hillock that covers it. The first thing to draw your eye is across the room; rising out of the water, stairs lead up to a pedestal. Atop the pedestal sits a throne, made of carved onyx and marble and glinting in the torchlight. On the throne sits a skeleton, dressed in long-tattered finery, clutching something large and made of metal in its hands.
Then you notice the walls. The walls of this room, everywhere, are covered in carvings. The carvings are not like those of the Three Peoples, which are often runic and abstract. These carvings are vaguely personified. Or something-ified. They depict creatures, broad relative their height, that vaguely look like people, with large noses and long, trailing beards. The sort-of-people partake in many tasks - most notable and repetitive among them seem to be drinking, carving, and using tools in another way that you can't quite suss out. Large stones, and the creatures hitting things upon the stones with earthbreakers, surrounded by fire. There is a strong military aspect to the sort-of-people as well, as they sometimes wear strange armor, like the wooden scale mail of the Three Peoples, but more intricate, and they carry weapons - some earthbreakers, but also stranger things, weapons with hafts but fan-like heads, or like spears but with butterflies attached to the end.
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Gozrahn 6, Way Point
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The woman scowls but lets Rigel leave without saying much else, throwing more money onto the table.
Drazan presses closer to the corpse to examine it and what it clutches. "Your messenger has delivered me to you. What is it you want?" Drazan speaks to the decayed one in his throne. "What is it these men on the walls do with fire and breakers?"
Istiel sees Rigel flit about the gambling women- she can't help but chuckle softly to herself when Rigel gets shooed away by a spirited scowl from the gambler.
The monk follows the slippery woman as she approaches Oios, and gently sips her hot chicha while Rigel does her best cat impression. Briefly distracted, the monk thinks about how strong (and delicious) this waypoint's chicha is, her brain already enjoying its numbing effects. A stop on the way back was assured, perhaps to get a recipe.
The monk's veil obscures the place where her thin lips used to reside, instead leaving a black hole. When she speaks, nothing seems to move besides a slight whisping of fabric. "After I finish my drink."
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Imix slowly stretches as his internal and external temperatures reach equilibrium at a more civilised temperature.
Walking slowly to the bar he nods politely at the Magistrate. He gestures for his apprentices - who recovered far faster than their master - to gather round, and talks to the scruffy man behind the counter.
"Good evening sir. Alglin, leave that girl alone. My apprentices and I are looking for accommodation. No Matte, Tepix, you won't sleep. I understand that you have probably rented out your rooms? No Chica either, Tepix. I see this room is also all but full, but I am reluctant to camp outside in this weather. I see you Selma. Are there any other - warmer - accommodations that might be available? Apchux, accompany Mossy to the toilet."
Oios nods thoughtfully. It is worth a try. Whenever you are ready Isitel. She seems a follower of Marinette as much as you and Marinette has little patience for conversation.
When Isitel is ready, Oios gets up and makes sure the ghandasa is wrapped securely in cloth before he takes it out of his sack. Making his way to the mercenary woman he pauses between the throws of her dice I believe I have something that may be of yours he says and removes the cloth just enough so she alone can see the handle of the weapon before moving on outside of the Waypoint building and heading to a secluded corner of the stables where a private conversation could be had.
The monk drinks the rest of her chicha, lifting a hand underneath her veil to wipe any remaining liquid from her mouth. She deftly rolls the veil back up and buckles the bottom portion of her mask in place with a bit more gusto than usual. Indeed, she seems more.. animated... than usual. "Onward, Oios."
Crossing her arms over her chest, she stands stoically behind Oios as he shows the gambler the dagger. As the priest begins to leave she jerks her head towards the door in an indication the woman should follow before taking leave herself.
At first there's no response, and you begin to think the skeleton is just that, a skeleton, quite dead.
Then, as if waking from a deep slumber, slowly, the head shifts just slightly, then a little more, and then the creature stands, unsteadily at first, and moves forward, a little quicker, down the steps into the water.
Its jawbone drops open, a silent scream, and then it charges you! Swinging its metal weapon above its head, the creature brings it town onto your torch-arm, a vicious slash!
======================
The barkeep nods to Imix. "Ai, we're out of rooms. But, I've got three coywolf pens open. Half a silver each, and I can get you blankets for warmth. They can fit one comfortable, two uncomfortable, three of your... kids, uncomfortablest."
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The woman blanches, turning pale white, when she sees the ghandasa. The words come high at first, and then she settles a bit. "Not mine, but I know who's it is." Grabbing her cloak from by the door, the blond walks out into the cold, pulling her cloak hood up, back around the coywolf pens, her head on a swivel as she goes, cloak wrapped tight about her.
With the snow and the cold, there's nary a soul in sight, up on top of the town's mound. The woman's breath comes out in ragged bursts, foggy, into the air. "Where'd you find that, old man?"
Outside
======================
Oios notes the way the mercenary woman's colour drains from her face at the sight of the weapon On five dead men on the road from Shadeholme to Piney's Bluff. The men were killed without resisting. Perhaps in their sleep. Three days ago? They were left to be eaten by crows and wolves in their campsite.
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Outside
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"It belonged to an acquaintance of mine. He's dead, eh? Sorry to say I haven't seen Rorak in three summers. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got gambling to get back to."
The way her voice raises in timbre at the end? The shift of her eyes away from you when she exclaims surprise at Rorak's death? She's lyyyyyyyyyyyyiiiinnnnnngggg.
You know it, in your bones.
Oios holds up a hand to stop her from bolting I did not say 'Rorak' was dead. I said five men were killed without struggle and that this weapon, which is marked as being of the Order of the Stag as much as you are, was found on them. What is it that you are trying to hide mercenary? What part of your conscience are you trying to drown in chica and dice?
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Outside
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There's a long silent pause, before the woman speaks through clenched teeth. "You've got Rorak's ghandasa. He wouldn't let it go if he were alive. You got something to say otherwise, say it, you old rakker..."
Istiel initially stands besides Oios when the woman approaches, and listens silently. Her eyes dart back and forth between the two, and when Oios stops her from leaving the warrior monk tenses.
Her hands curl into fists and she hisses words at the gambling woman. "Strike him and your teeth will be the only bones rolling tonight." There was no threat, merely promise, and she very much hoped the woman would take her up on it. There was challenge in her eyes, and the alcohol made her continue speaking. "You seem a worthy fight."