Well, the nice stuff should be in the bedroom. Or office. They both must be upstairs.
Trusting his senses, Themp silently opens the door as little as possible and goes into the room.
Staying close to the wall, in a semi-crouch, Themp heads over to the stairs, avoiding direct line-of-sight to as many windows as he can.
Let's hope the gardener stays put...
At that thought, Themp scans the windows revealing himself as little as possible. As he does that, he can't help but scan the living room as well.
Figuring that whoever is stalking a paladin probably doesn't have her best interests in mind, Beorae greets Nme'an without making overtly friendly motions. “Habari za asubuhi. Je, si kuangalia sasa, lakini kuna sababu yoyote hasa kwa nini wewe ni kuwa na kufuatiwa?” She makes a point to keep readying One Sock, hoping to not draw any attention to herself just yet.
"Hapana," Nme'an says cheerfully, as if the words is a greeting. "Ni kipimo cha wanaonekana kuwa kinachotokea mara nyingi ingawa..." He says before walking over to Rexel.
"Jinsi mbali?" Nme'an asks Beorae in a playful tone as he does his best to focus on his horse and not his unwanted shadow.
"No."
"It does seem to be happening frequently though..."
"How far?"
Still not addressing the paladin directly, Beorae answers, “Kuhusu kuzuia nyuma, labda futi mia mbili? Short guy kwa wasafiri nguo, na kujifanya kufunga Boot laces yake wakati.”
After a second she asks, “Ni nini maana, 'kinachotokea mara nyingi?”
“What do you mean, ‘happening frequently’?”
Morning light beams in from the clean, curtained windows over two large mahogany tables and a vast, polished wood floor. Big, brightly colored paintings hang on the walls, framed in a darkwood and the walls continue high up to the ceiling. A sparkling chandelier is suspended from on high, between the two tables. A giant brick hearth contains a great crackling fire, keeping the room toasty warm in contrast to the wintery morning. The ornately-railed stairs go up, then turn left to lead to a small walkway overlooking the open, high-ceilinged dining area. The walkway turns right at the brick chimney, and Themp can see two doorways in the small hallway.
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The morning sun shines brightly, but Beorae spots a front of clouds moving north from the southeast horizon. Tonight’s sunset might be overcast, and it will probably rain overnight and into tomorrow.
Heh, with that chandelier, I doubt they'll even notice if I palm one thing or another...
Carefully, he goes up the stair, eyes peeled and ears focused.
Silently padding up the steps, Themp can see the gardener moved to another flowerbed, but still focused on his work. In the hallway, neither door has a lock, though by the length of the walls, one appears to be much bigger than the other.
"Mfitini kushangaa kwangu kutoka nyuma mwisho usiku kabla tu mimi kufikiwa nyumba ya wageni," Nme'an replies as he slowly goes about reading Rexel to ride. He continues to pretend to be oblivious to the man.
"A troublemaker snuck up behind me last night just before I reached the pub."
Walking towards the end of the walkway, Themp finds two doors. The one on his right, he correctly assumes is a small room. The one on the left, however, is still a mystery. Carefully, he presses his ears on each door, trying to discern any activity within.
The sneak thief hears nothing against either of the doors. But as he shifts his weight to listen elsewhere, the floorboard beneath him creaks! The soft humming from downstairs silences, and Themp hears dropped dishes splash.
The lean, middle-aged woman storms into the dining room with a fierce frown on her face. Urgently casting about, she makes for the stairs.
As soon as the humming stops, Themp curses himself under his breath and enters the door to his right. In a glance, he surveys the room, looking for places to hide other than precariously hanging from the window.
Inside the office, he finds an office desk facing the window, a tall bookshelf, and a chair. In an impulse he dives for the space beneath the desk, hoping it'll conceal him well enough.
Settled in, he focus on the sounds outside the room.
Muffled through the wall, Themp can hear a door swing open, and swift steps toward the staircase.
The maid storms up the steps and throws the doors open to the office and the bedroom, looking urgently about!
"Damn these old ears..." Themp hears, and footsteps proceeding into the bedroom.
As the lady left the doors open, Themp figures it is best to stay put at least until she goes back downstairs.
Wow, such a fuss for slight creak... I wonder how much dishes she actually gets done on a windy day...
I wonder if the couple once made her life hell for something that went amiss. That would certainly explain her attitude.
Once at the counter Mot tries his best to not wake the slumbering smith. Counting out the gold from his purse he adds another token amount as appreciation. Laying the leather armor on the ledge he retrieves his new chain shirt with eagerness. He's about to leave when he remembers the mans final request. With a sorrowful grimace the big Urlghain removes his wolf-hat and places it gently beside the leather armor. Tiptoeing back to the door he exits and makes his way to the stables from the night before.
The blacksmith’s snores get louder as Mot conducts the exchange.
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The maid tromps about through the bedroom for a few minutes. Themp hears her try a door, which does not open. Satisfied, she closes the bedroom and office door before she mutters down the stairs. The hiding young man hears her rummage through the storage room, and then moves to the kitchen to resume cleaning.
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The suspicious man ceases his boot-fiddling and leans against a building corner and begins to pack a smoking pipe. To uninquisitive, he appears to be enjoying his unemployment immensely.
As the lady starts the cleaning again, Themp finally breathes out.
Heh, didn't even notice I was holding it. Haven't had this much fun since the baker's house.
Slowly moving out of his hiding place, he checks the bookshelf out, trying to find anything interesting for him or his companions.
After rummaging through the bookshelf , Themp moves over to the bedroom, careful to close the doors behind him.
As soon as he is finished with the bedroom's door, he looks around, gauging the room, eyes peeled for niceties and ears sharp for any sound outside.
Themp finds little of importance among the papers covering the desktop, as they seem to be business records for whatever livelihood that affords such a house and staff. Likewise, the bookshelf mostly contains ledgers of past years, though there is one shelf of collected books varying from lore on exotic and mythic creatures to a recipe book for home remedies for ailments. Finally, the burglar finds five drawstring pouches in the desk drawer, each containing ten gold pieces each.
Themp quietly transfers to the next room, evidently not raising any further alarm. He finds the bedroom to be clean and orderly, with everything in its proper place. The large bed is draped with fine linens and the wide-set vanity boasts a multitude of little drawers and small cabinet doors. Two nightstands flank the head of the bed, with two unique and shiny oil lamps sitting on top. A vase of flowers stands beside one of the lamps. A shallow and wide jewelry chest rests just below the vanity mirror. Reaching for the lid, Themp finds the small chest to be locked. But, one does learn a few things from regular burglary. The rogue lifts the lamp beside the flowers, to reveal underneath a tiny key that appears to fit the lock on the jewelry box.
Inside the shallow, wide box is no jewelry at all. Instead, there is a tightly rolled parchment sheet tied together with string. Underneath that is a letter addressed to Marie Banderwort. The letter reads as follows:
Sister Banderwort:
Our time draws near, and we must purge the doubters from our ranks. Soon, this very land will be turned upside down, and chaos will reign in the streets. Your earthly baubles will mean nothing. Sell them now, and aid us in the hour of our realization by purchasing the proper scroll. Await further instructions.
~Brother Kesten Dannermuld
Among the other compartments of the vanity are keepsakes of little monetary value, and cheap accessories to various outfit ensembles. There is a door at the far end of the bedroom, to what could be a walk-in closet, and when Themp tries the door, he finds it to be locked. The key carried by the pickpocket looks like it might fit this lock.
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Mot finds Nme’an and Beorae standing beside their horses at the stables. They seem to be avoiding eye contact as they ready their mounts.
Having prepared his horse all that he can save for actually leading it out of the stable Nme'an turns to gaze at the man.
What the hell is going on here? "Purge the doubters"?! Well, at least now I have something to strike up conversation with our dear Paladin. And this scroll... Curious.
At that thought, Themp quickly pockets both the letter and the scroll, leaving the scroll unopened for a future consultation with the Paladin and the more-knowledgeable-in-magic Beorae.
Quietly moving over to the closet door, Themp picks up his stolen key and tries it at the door, not before checking for any hidden mechanisms that might ruin his day.
Nme’an recognizes the sneaky, troublesome man from yesterday.
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Themp finds no traps to be triggered by the door or lock. When he opens the door, he indeed finds a walk-in closet, walled with clothing of fine make. His eyes are immediately drawn to the chest on the ground near the inordinate amount of footwear covering the floor. Even at a glance, Themp knows that this lock is much better in quality than the one he picked downstairs.
The lock on this chest has a trigger to a magical trap, if improperly picked.
Noticing the trap, Themp attempts to quietly disable it with his kit, before heading over to the lock itself.
"That man smoking over there is the same who peppered me with questions last night. I suspect him to be a thief, or perhaps a lookout for some larger interest, as he seemed intent on learning what I and the other knights of the Dawnflower were doing..." Nme'an says to his two companions. "That someone with ill intent would follow a knight of the Order is... curious... and troublesome."
“That is curious. Let's see what he wants, then.” Holding Shark's leash so as to put the tiger between herself and Nme'an's follower, Beorae finishes with, “I'll get on the other side of him, and you two follow in a few, but leave Mot's horse for the moment.” Not waiting for a response, the druid tugs on One Sock's reigns and walks the two animals back down the road in the direction of the mysterious man.
Mots bright eyes narrow in suspicion, but he nods when a plan is outlined. Hefting his spear to rest lengthwise across his broad shoulders, the Urlghain ambles up behind the Paladin, ready for action. The new chain shirt shines and tinkles softly with each movement but flows freely over bunched muscles as the kilted tartan, heavy metal plates now removed, sashays quietly in the breeze.
Nme'an watches as Beorae, Shark, and One Sock approach the man. Although he is ready to spring forward to assist, the Paladin sticks to the plan and waits as the Druid nears.
Once Beorae is past, Nme'an grips Rexel's reins and follows in her footsteps.
,
The man with a pipe nods cordially to Beorae as she passes. His grin widens when he turns to see the knight approach him. “Sorry about yesterday, Sir Knight. I didn’t intend for a misunderstanding. How goes your day?”
He glances at the towering Urlghain before casually puffing his pipe.
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The chest springs open as Themp expertly turns the tumblers into place, but the burglar’s relief is interrupted by a clanging bell and a blinding light flashing from the picked lock.
Blinking away the spots in his vision, Themp hears clamor from downstairs in the kitchen as the maid hurries across the banquet hall and pounds on the front doors.
“Tom! Burglar!” Themp hears the maid call to the gardener from the front door.
Inside the chest, Themp sees a large drawstring sack of coin, three corked vials, a wooden wand, a thin gold chain necklace with a painted face on the ivory pendant, and an old tome on the Banderwort genealogy.
The urgent ringing from the opened chest persists in a most annoying fashion.
Pressed on by alarm, Themp quickly pockets the vials and the wand.
'A look at the Mtu Mkubwa and not so much as a moment's hesitation? What is going on here?' Nme'an wonders.
"I am usually quite patient with trouble makers, but you have now used up my patience. One does not twice sneak up on those charged with upholding the law, especially not a heavy knight, without good reason. I demand to know what that reason is," Nme'an says sternly as he pulls his bow from behind his back.
Picking up on his companions tone, Mot waggles his eyebrows and juts his beard out ferociously from over the half-elfs shoulder.
Keeping an eye (and an ear) on the situation and their surroundings, Beorae and Shark move across the street to block the man's escape route. .
The thief hears the front door burst open and two pairs of feet thunder to the foot of the stairs.
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“Is it a crime to walk the streets now?” he interrupts, “Will I be locked…”
He straightens as the knight produces the bow, sending a nervous glance behind him to notice the woman behind him. But what fully shakes his composure are the stern stares of Mot and Nme’an. Pulling the pipe out of his mouth, he raises his hands defensively. “Whoa! No need to get your codpiece in a twist, Sir Knight. I know how you folks like to shoot first and ask questions later, so I’ll save you the shooting bit and comply,” he enunciates the word like a curse, “Just remember that enjoying a good smoke on a nice day isn’t a crime.”
“Your knight friends rode north some weeks ago, maybe a month by now, and had a, uh, run-in, with some of my superiors. I wasn’t there when it happened so I don’t know the details of it, but it was clear that neither expected the other. So, after the whole debacle, I was sent down here to watch for more knights, and send a raven with any information I could find. And to warn my superiors if more knights were headed north. Now don’t tell me its unlawful to send letters, or else my dear old mother will have earned decades in jail time.” As he speaks, the smaller man’s shifty eyes glance to every street corner and alleyway, when he is finished he tensely watches the knight carefully, ready to bolt at the first hostile movement.
"And who are these superiors of yours?" Nme'an asks. "Thieves? Highwaymen? Traitors? At the very least, you will not be sending that raven."
[edit] [/edit]
Though he's only half-following the conversation Mot again picks up on the threat in the Paladins voice. Shifting his weight menacingly, he practices his best "I'm on to you" face.
Damn, I need to buy myself some time!
Turning his back to the chest, Themp surveys the room for something to block the door.
That nightstand looks too damn light. The bed it is!
With a bit of a struggle, Themp manages to push the bed all the way to the door. Satisfied with his work, he returns to the shrilling chest.
Suspecting that a reduction in hostilities may help ease tensions for everyone, the druidess steps forward a few paces and speaks up.
“What my companions are saying, albeit with less eloquence than I generally like, is that you bring troubling news, and we'd like to clear things up a bit. Now, obviously, you didn't have to show yourself or tell us any of this, but you've made a point of following our knight here and making yourself seen, both last night as well as this morning, which is curious. But before we get to all that, what's your name, friend?”
Mere seconds after the bed bumps against the wall and door, the handle turns, but the door doesn’t open!
“Hurry!” the maid harps.
“I can’t! The door is blocked!” the gardener cries.
“Don’t let the burglar get away!”
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The pipe smoker too eagerly welcomes the assertions from Beorae, nodding and grinning as though he was not sweating nervously and everyone was getting along merrily. “No, no, I would never think of sending a raven. Not anymore. Or nevermore, to quote the raven, heh. Gregor is my name. What is yours? Boyoh! This morning sun is warm!”
His sleeve comes away soaked from his brow. To those acclimated to Vyren’s climate, this winter morning is pleasantly bright, but with a light nip in the air.
In no time, Themp quickly pockets both the necklace and the tome, in the hopes it might shed some light into this new-found mystery.
“My name is Beorae,” the druid replies. “So, Gregor, what's the meaning of all this? Are you in trouble? If you have information about those knights, it would be in everyone's interest to let us know what happened to them. Those were the king's men,” she says, almost pleadingly. “Can you at least tell us where they ran into these, superiors, of yours?”
Nme'an nods in agreement with Beorae's oddly shriek-y plea and he too attempts to appeal to Gregor's better nature saying in an overly upbeat tone, "It would make you feel better as a person!"
Seeing the sneaky lookout roll his eyes, Nme'an quickly reverts to intimidation. "...and it may keep you out of jail," he says forcefully.
The gardener’s shoulder thuds against the door, ineffective.
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Nervous and now confused by the onslaught of Beorae’s and Nme’an’s inquiry, Gregor opens his mouth to speak, closes it, and then reopens it before closing it again. It takes his third try to find his words. “Um… well…” Sort of. He clears his throat and replies with a no-nonsense tone, “Very well. Yes, we are highwaymen, and my group, not me, were discovered by knights just south of Axton. I understand that both sides suffered losses, but I do not know where the knights went after that. I returned base to find half our number and those remaining were wounded. So, Chief sends me Brenan’s Crossing to be a lookout for lawmen and easy marks coming our way.”
He looks to the paladin hopefully, “Since I’m cooperating, I don’t get to go to jail, right?”
There is some truth and some falsehood to his story. While his “group” were actually set upon by knights, their banditry is the lie. Also, he seemed to be fibbing about their location. It is likely true that both sides suffered losses, that he did not personally take part in the skirmish, and that his orders were serve as lookout at the Crossing, but still he obscures the cause of his group.
“You still haven't answered the question about why you've made yourself known to us in the first place. Your story is riddled with holes, and I’m having trouble figuring out why you'd come to us and then not tell us anything useful.” As she finishes asking the question, Beorae sends an obvious look to Nme'an, suggesting that he hold off with the intimidation until Gregor answers her query.
He shakes his head with a smile to the druid. “I did no such thing. You came to me, remember? I’ve been watching him all morning. It wasn’t until I followed him to the stables that he found me out. With your help, too, methinks.”
He shrugs as he sizes up the knight, and then the highlander, still talking to the druid. His tone grows increasingly more tense. “Of course, he’d rather scare information outta me than play nice...”
“...so why should I play nice?”
A manic grin takes over his face as blast of colors spray from his hands, flashing over Nme’an and Mot in a cone. “Iris unda!”
The dazzling, clashing lights are too much for the paladin, who goes crashing to the ground. He does not move save for the light breathing of one who is unconscious. The highlander is not affected by Gregor's spell.
Gregor dashes around the corner, his dirty feet beating hard down the poorly cobbled road.
With a lucky blink the big highlander avoids the brunt of the visual assault. Seeing the tiny man scurrying away Mot let's loose a beast-like growl and gives chase. Heavy legs pound the street as the massive wall of man moves with purpose. The new chain shirt slinks and moves with each stride, the freedom of motion granting the Casns speed he has not known since his youth. As he sprints the big warrior spins his spear around so that the butt faces Gregor. As he nears, heaving muscles ripple and the barbarian swings for the mans legs. Attempting to knock them together and drop the villain to the ground.
The big man sweeps the fleeing Gregor's feet out from under him and he falls flat on his back.
Beorae chases after Gregor with a loud shout, “Guards!,” but Mot is already hot on the man's heels by the time she rounds the corner. She accelerates her pursuit as the Urlghain performs his magnificent leg-sweep, and closes the distance to the pair.
Over the tuds, Themp finally pockets the last item in the chest, the sack of coin. After deciding his only possible escape route will be the window, Themp checks if everything he took is well secured.
He then moves to the window.
At the momentary commotion, a pair of guards hurry from the direction Gregor was fleeing. But they are still about fifty feet away when Gregor rolls to his feet, and he doubles back the way he came, barreling towards the druid and her tiger!
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This time it sounds like the maid joins in forcing the door open, and the door cracks as the bed is pushed just far enough to open the door. They both stand there in shock at the burglar.
"Master Banderwort?" the gardener peers at Themp, clearly fooled by his disguise.
"No! That's not him! It's a disguise!" the maid exclaims.
Not turning to look at the help, lest he breaks his disguise even further, Themp opens the window and hops off.
Shaking off the brunt of the fall with a well-executed roll, Themp is quickly on his feet again, heavy scrapes and bruises aside.