"What's an effuliviam?"
"It's a big pit at the edge of the city, near the abandoned quarter. Most of Istivin's waste gets dumped in there and all of the storm drains run off into it. Nobody lives anywhere near it on account of the smell... well almost nobody."
"Well that would be problematic... Let's hope that doesn't happen."
"You may not have heard that my home was burned a week ago, along with the homes of the high cleric of Pelor, Kireth Trantle, and a swordman of the Order of the Star, an old man named Baldram. The arsons, for I believe these were not natural fires, were too specific in their targets. I'm sure there is someone behind them. If you could find out who it is, it would be a great boon to the clergy of this town."
Mortifice's eyes widen in horror. After picking up his jaw from the floor, he finally speaks.
"That is abominable! Might you have any leads as to who may have done such a thing? Anyone who might wish us harm?"
Mortifice waits for a moment to receive a response.
"I travel with some companions of considerable resourcefulness. I am positive we can uncover what has happened and who has caused this."
Just then, there is a knock at the closed front door to the temple. The knocking is very gentle, and seemingly musical in its rhythm.
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Mortifice's eyes widen in horror. After picking up his jaw from the floor, he finally speaks.
"That is abominable! Might you have any leads as to who may have done such a thing? Anyone who might wish us harm?"
Mortifice waits for a moment to receive a response.
"I travel with some companions of considerable resourcefulness. I am positive we can uncover what has happened and who has caused this."
The priestess sighs. "Sadly, I have none. A dark, angry pall has descended over Istivin, and there are many I think are capable of doing this, but as far as I know, none have any motives. The three church leaders who were struck have been doing there best to help the citizens. As far as I know we have no obvious enemies."
Solaufyn is shown into the room with Mortifice and Lady Miskmatar. He confirms what Mortifice has just learned about the arsons, adding that the military has been rather concerned with this matter of late.
"I must admit," he muses. "It is as if there is something here that is dimming the hearts of all of Istivin. I do not know if it is something the giants left behind to crush the people's morale, or something else entirely. Have you noticed anything... out of place, supernaturally?"
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Tanith and Flynt leave the impressive Circus behind and wend their way through the middle of town towards Krelont Keep. Its imposing edifice is perched atop the hill known as the Promontory, the highest point in Istivin and the surrounding countryside.
The path to the keep leads up from Qualtaine Square (where Flynt is once again acknowledged by the workers at the Temple of Pelor) turning numerous switchbacks before ending at the front gate. As Flynt and the Kordson begin their ascent, they can see that there seems to already be a long queue lined up before the gate. Once closer, they can see that the line is made up of at least 30 people. Most seem to be fairly wealthy and many travel with a retinue. All seem thoroughly bored.
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"I must admit," he muses. "It is as if there is something here that is dimming the hearts of all of Istivin. I do not know if it is something the giants left behind to crush the people's morale, or something else entirely. Have you noticed anything... out of place, supernaturally?"
"Only a general malaise and frustration that troubles the sleep. I have made inquiries of the goddess' followers in heaven, but they only warn of evil times ahead."
Tanith takes up a position at the end of the line and chats with those adjacent. What brings them to the keep? How long have they been waiting? Have they heard anything from the Marchioness?
If there are any particularly attractive young and bored looking noblewomen, the Kordite really turns on his special brand of charm.
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The line is made up of men and their retinues, which Tanith notes, display a distinct lack of women.
From casual conversation, it seems that many of the people in line were involved with the war and have come to speak to the Marchioness about claiming their promised reward. It seems that she has refused to speak to anyone for weeks, but still the claimants come, hoping to be seen. Other peoplehave other business with the court.
Tanith leaves his position in the line and makes his way to the front looking for whichever guard(s) bar the door.
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Tanith feels a tap on his side as he makes his way to the front of the line. Turning, he sees a burly dwarf clad in scale armor surrounded by five other dwarves. "Hey, tall man, there is a line here. What do you think you are doing?" The dwarf looks very annoyed and is getting red in the face as he talks.
"There's nothing to worry about friend, I've no intention of stealing ahead of you. I just want to see who is watching over this line and gather some information", the big Suel says with a laugh.
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"Who says I am worried?" the dwarf states, anger rising in his voice. He indicates the other dwarves around him. "Right now we're watching the line, and we're making sure that people stay where they are supposed to." With each word his anger seems to be growing and Tanith and Flynt note that his hand is straying toward the ax hung at his belt.
Tanith makes a motion to calm Boris as the great bear can sense the growing tension.
"Good, then we're not of cross purpose. I'll just speak to the guards and then I'll be on my way."
"If you feel that I've wronged you, why don't we settle this like men as Kord says. Arm wrestling at the Tabard perhaps?"
"Only a general malaise and frustration that troubles the sleep. I have made inquiries of the goddess' followers in heaven, but they only warn of evil times ahead."
"I do have trouble believing that a group of humans can naturally behave like the ones in this city. I have yet to experience this troubled sleep myself, but I thank you for alerting me to it."
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Tanith makes a motion to calm Boris as the great bear can sense the growing tension.
"Good, then we're not of cross purpose. I'll just speak to the guards and then I'll be on my way."
1d20+14
"If you feel that I've wronged you, why don't we settle this like men as Kord says. Arm wrestling at the Tabard perhaps?"
Tanith's eyes widen. Generally he is pretty good at calming people, but his words seem to have no effect on the dwarf. Before he is able to finish his sentence, he sees the dwarf begin to wind up to strike him in the ... well, it would be in the face, but given the dwarf's stature, he would guess the stomach.
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"I do have trouble believing that a group of humans can naturally behave like the ones in this city. I have yet to experience this troubled sleep myself, but I thank you for alerting me to it."
The Shield Maiden's priestess nods, "And I thank you in advance if you can discover what might be behind these strange arsons. May the goddess bless you both on your journeys."
Tanith shrugs. The dwarf's form was sloppy but among the Brawler's initiated, a sucker punch was a perfectly healthy method of conflict resolution.
The big Kordite braces for the blow.
"Now that you've made your point, it's only fair that you let me make mine... hey what're you doing?!"
Mort turns to Sol after the two take their leave.
"Well, I'm stumped. Any ideas? Perhaps we should find the others and discuss what is going on around town? Certainly something is wrong when even the Church of Pelor isn't held sacred."
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Round 1:
The dwarf draws his axe and takes a step back to take a swing at Tanith. Rage burns in his eyes, with spittle collecting in the corners of his mouth. His companions look like they have been taken by complete surprise by his irrational outburst, and are beginning to rush forward to drag him away from the confrontation.
Luckily for the Kordson, the dwarf seems not to be a fierce combatant, and his clumsy blow is easily deflected. () Tanith and Flynt can also tell that he is at best an amateur fighter ()
Flynt seeing that the dwarf is no threat, stands back and let's it play out. Tobias continues to circle around waiting for a signal.
Tanith motions for Boris to hold his ground while doing the same himself.
"Get a handle on your friend or I'm going to have to break his jaw", Tanith warns.
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The other six dwarves surge forward to overwhelm their friend. Two grab him around the torso, three grab his arms, and one takes his feet out from under him. One of them receives a nasty ax wound to the leg for his troubles as the enraged dwarf lashes out against his companions. After a bit more struggle they have him disarmed and subdued, with a particularly heavy dwarf sitting on his chest, shouting at him in Dwarven. After nearly a minute of struggling in vain against his attackers, the prone dwarf relaxes, and a look of resignation and shock settles over his face. Once the others feel that he is himself once again, the dwarf stands up and dusts himself off, trying to reclaim whatever shred of dignity he can. After a brief conversation with the other dwarves, Tanith's erstwhile assailant walks over to him and bows deeply.
"I apologize for my behavior. I don't know what has come over me, perhaps it is the stress of being so far from my hold. I have brought shame upon myself and my family. Please accept this small boon as an imperfect repayment for the trouble I have caused you." He motions to one of the other dwarves, who brings over a rune-inscribed throwing axe, ceremoniously presenting it to Tanith.
Tanith takes the offered hand axe and nods in thanks.
"You don't have to, really, but it's appreciated. The truest measure of a man is how far he goes to make things right with those he's wronged. Your friend picked up a nasty wound in the struggle, let me see to it."
Undoing his right bracer, Tanith holds his tattooed forearm aloft again.
"Mighty Kord, mend this dwarf's injured limb so that he might wrestle again!"
After dusting himself off and reattaching his bracer, Tanith regards the offending party.
"If you really want to make amends to me, you could do so by referring me to smithy. Your kind knows their way around a forge right? I may be needing some custom-built ironworks in the near future."
Mort turns to Sol after the two take their leave.
"Well, I'm stumped. Any ideas? Perhaps we should find the others and discuss what is going on around town? Certainly something is wrong when even the Church of Pelor isn't held sacred."
"You're right, there is something going on within the hearts of Istivin's people that is terribly wrong. Perhaps we will get a glimpse of it while we rest this evening? Anyways, it's best that we find Tanith and Flynt."
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Tanith takes the offered hand axe and nods in thanks.
"You don't have to, really, but it's appreciated. The truest measure of a man is how far he goes to make things right with those he's wronged. Your friend picked up a nasty wound in the struggle, let me see to it."
Undoing his right bracer, Tanith holds his tattooed forearm aloft again.
"Mighty Kord, mend this dwarf's injured limb so that he might wrestle again!"
4d6
The dwarves look at Tanith in awe as the healing energies flow through them. The wound one of the dwarves had acquired closes up completely, leaving only a reddish mark and some outer clothes soaked in blood. The group gives him another appreciative bow.
"If you really want to make amends to me, you could do so by referring me to smithy. Your kind knows their way around a forge right? I may be needing some custom-built ironworks in the near future."
One of the elder dwarves steps forward and let's Tanith know that there is a dwarven smith in town who does good work named Rethen Agadan. His shop can be found near the West Citadel.
Tanith thanks the elder dwarf for the referral and returns to his previous task, the head of the line.
"Shall we head back to the inn and wait for them, or split up and look around?" asks Mortifice of Sol.
"Shall we head back to the inn and wait for them, or split up and look around?" asks Mortifice of Sol.
"If we split up again, we may never find them. The inn would be the most comfortable place to meet them."
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Later in the afternoon, everyone reassembles at the Gryphon Arms for dinner. Tanith and Flynt had gotten absolutely nowhere after their confrontation with the belligerent dwarf. The guards on duty at Krelont Keep had told them that the Marchioness would probably not be seeing anyone today, but that they should join the line in case she did. They waited around some, but then gave up. While in line, they had found out from another petitioner that the Marchioness hadn't seen anyone for almost a month.
Now everyone is relaxing after quite a sumptuous dinner. It had begun with an appetizer of stuffed peppers, pigs feet, and snails in garlic, followed by a lovely rib roast with roasted winter vegetables, buttered beets, and spiced winter squash. Dessert had been a spicy plum wine along with plenty of black stout, in addition to fresh fruit and a selection of cheeses.
Tanith happily (and noisily) sups as he explains what he and Flynt learned at the Circus and what happened with the angry dwarf at the keep.
"So I let him slug me in the gut but my armor just hurt his hand..."
"Yea, that was a waste of time." Flynt seems to decline on the snails but digs in on everything else. "This food is amazing." You can make out as he talks in between bites.
Solaufyn seems to avoid the heavier meats, and makes up for Flynt's aversion to the snails.
"I did not fare much better with the military. The sentries were entirely uninterested in fulfilling my invitation to meet with one of their Marshals. I believe I will have to contact her some other way."
"Instead, the military was on-edge over what I found out later were some arsons. Priests of what I understand to be generous deities have been attacked."
"A cult of a giant god or more hidden agents of your Mak perhaps?", Tanith asks while chewing loudly.
"In any case, I have a date to meet with Thel, a woman that runs one of the stables at the Circus. I told her I wasn't interested in spilling blood for her if she wasn't interested in helping me clean the place up but she said there was something else I might be able to help with with tomorrow."
"What's on the plate for the lot of you tomorrow?"
Mortifice only picks at his meal for a bit before pushing his plate in front of Tanith, who clearly could use some more to eat.
"I just don't get it. Why would anyone sabotage priests of Pelor and Mayaheine? I believe it's clear to all of us that something isn't right around here, but this is just... madness!"
Mort sighs. "Perhaps tomorrow I will hunt for more clues as to who may have been behind the arsons."
Tanith polishes off his own plate and seamlessly transitions to the one pushed in front of him by the half-Orc..
"If this cult is after priests of your lady-god maybe Flynt should stick with you. You're the best fighter I know Mort but I'd feel better knowing you had Flynt's sharp eye with you."
"A cult of a giant god or more hidden agents of your Mak perhaps?", Tanith asks while chewing loudly.
"It is possible that they are involved in the arsons," Solaufyn replies, not making contact in order to avoid this dramatic display of consumption. "But the general feelings of the people? I am unsure about whether emotion magic on such a large scale is even realistically attainable. Even if Turrosh Mak's agents are behind the arsons, that does not explain the twisted emotions. The priestess of Mayaheine mentioned some sort of disturbing dreams. Perhaps we will know more about what bothers the residents after we rest."
"What's on the plate for the lot of you tomorrow?"
He thinks a moment, admiring the color of the dessert wine in his hand. "Well," he says. "I would like to get in contact with Marshal Velthundle. Since the proper methods likely will not work, I will have to look for alternatives. Since the military is concerned with the arsons, perhaps our paths will cross if I help with those, while I search."
He takes a sip of wine, considering another possibility. "I wonder what the true situation is with the Marchioness, as well. She seems rather shy."
Finished with the meat from the roast, Tanith snaps one of the thick bones between his fists and begins sucking at the marrow while simultaneously using the jagged edge to pick his teeth.
"The front door isn't going to work for talking to the Marchioness either. We may have to call in some favors if we want an audience any time soon."
"Even if Turrosh Mak's agents are behind the arsons, that does not explain the twisted emotions. The priestess of Mayaheine mentioned some sort of disturbing dreams. Perhaps we will know more about what bothers the residents after we rest."
"What sort of magic attacks people's dreams?", Tanith asks with sudden interest.
"I'm sure you can handle Thel by yourself. Paying attention was never Mort's strong suit so I would be useful. Just don't get into anymore one sided fights with the locals. At least without me there to witness it."
"What sort of magic attacks people's dreams?", Tanith asks with sudden interest.
"I seem to recall hearing something about a Night Hag being able to do this. But I am not sure to what scale; it was just something mentioned during mass one day."
Paying attention was never Mort's strong suit so I would be useful.
"Yes, I could use two extra pairs of eyes."
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Having finished a great meal and planned out the next day, the group retires to their separate bed chambers.
The bedrooms are located on the second floor of the inn, and are very well appointed: polished wood floors, a comfortable double bed with a goose feather comforter, a bedside table with fresh water for bathing, and a slow-burning fire to keep the room warm. Flynt and Mortifice's rooms face the street, while Sol and Tanith face the back courtyard that seems to be in the process of being set up for a celebration in the next few days.
Despite the comforts of the accommodations, sleep does not provide much rest this night. Strange, frightening dreams plague the group. In them, menacing shadows lurk just out of one's field of vision, seemingly ready to pounce at any second. Flight seems the only option from these terrors, but the shadows pursue, impossible to shake. They reach greedily, hungry for life and smelling of dry, dusty, and dead places. Even Sol, whose elven mind does not crave sleep, is haunted by these night terrors during his meditations.
The members of the fellowship all wake with a strangled shout, twisted up in the sheets of the bed and soaked in sweat. () It must be quite early in the morning, as the sun has not risen, and the streets are still silent.
Just then the quiet is broken by a man's shrill cry out in the streets, followed by several shouts and the sound of breaking of glass. Though your senses are still a bit foggy from having just woken, you can tell that the noises are coming from somewhere close by, in the street outside the inn.