Along with the other adventurers, Morythine dashes towards the White Deer public house. Seeing more goblins to slay, the monk doesn't hesitate, peeling off to engage the closest goblin on the left. He jabs with his staff, but the goblin hops aside.
Zoli arrives just in time to see the large monstrosity kill Os’dyn. Wasting no time, she answers it with a whistling sling stone that whacks it in its ear. "That was for Poppa. You won't be destroying any other families today, monster. Not if Zoli Tileani has anything to say about it!"
Recognizing the real threat before them, Xamarath gestures at the bugbear with violent intent painted all over his face. He speaks once more the phrase "విధ్వంసం మోట్స్ను" to conjure another pair of cerulescent motes of energy. They smite the bugbear unerringly before disappearing in blueish vapors.
Eugeni growls angrily at the sight of more murder and moves to the back of the group. He calls on his connection to the natural world, and begins to call forth the power of summoning latent in his blood. "Mr. Rumblepants....I need you." he whispers.
Following the others, Bærn’s stench not causing them to take a wide path around him for once, he joins the group as they come across the scene with the Bugbear. Immediately upon seeing the death of yet another innocent, the dwarf gets angry again and, forgoing any sort of words this time, yells at the top of his lungs as he charges the goblins, intending on ending lives himself.
Except that the lives that he will be ending will be deserving of it.
As her companions begin the fight against the goblins, Kala waits a few moments for her opening. Morythine rushes one of the goblins, and Eugeni moves aside, and Kala sees her chance. She charges at one goblin who is in the right position for her to use the fluid foe to foe fighting style she's trained in. Just after Baern's attack narrowly misses it, Kala brings her shield down on its head, the spikes digging into its skull. With a sickening crack of either its neck or skull, the goblin falls.
The goblins all cry out, and turn to engage the newcomers. The bugbear snarls at Zoli’s words, and says, “Let’s just see about that, little one…”
Alina, seeing the others focusing the large fur covered creature and the goblins directly in front of them, sets her eye on the mounted goblin. Her head lowers slightly as magic energy surges from her eyes as she attempts to hex the apparent leader and make his attacks falter.
Morythine swings his staff around again at the goblin, but now aware of his presence, it is able to more easily dodge the man’s bo.
Zoli reloads her sling and sends another bullet at the bugbear, who seemed to be lurching her way. It makes contact, and though hurt badly, does not stop it’s charge.
Not pausing to appreciate the aftermath, Xamarath immediately spins into another arcane evocation, sending a hawk-like projection of force from the tip of his staff, which slams into the bugbear's chest. The monstrosity stumbles to the ground and collapses, hatred still the only expression on it’s face.
Baern steps forward and swings at the next goblin, who's now on guard, but his long hammer is blocked. Kala seizes the chance to step forward and attack with both shield and sword. Her shield only manages to get tangled with the goblin's crude sword, but it gives Kala free reign to drive her wide shortsword hilt deep into its belly, impaling it, and the creature falls lifelessly to the ground.
Alina continues her magics on the mounted goblin, hoping to minimize it's affects on the battle.
Meanwhile, the mounted goblin places his horsechopper into a sheath on the side of his goblin dog, and draws a small bow. He then draws aim on Alina, and lets an arrow fly. The small arrow narrowly misses her body, the wind of the projectile ruffling her outfit. The goblin snarls and reloads, and urges his mount to move.
The rest of the goblins charge forward, their intents on skewering the steel covered longshanks that killed their friends. Two charge at Kala, but their extra momentum does nothing to help them penetrate her armor.
A third rushes headlong towards Baern, who smiles behind his beard. His hammer swings around and sends the little goblin flying back about 10 feet, and rolling for another 10 before coming to a stop, the body remaining eerily still.
On the western front, the goblin growls at Morythine and stabs at him with his crude dogslicer, but the dhampir is able to just as nimbly avoid it's attack.
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Eugeni completes his ritual and points behind the ragged line of goblins. The earth erupts five feet behind the goblins who are facing off with Kala and Baern. The upthrust burst of soil and stone quickly resolves itself into a vaguely humanoid mass. It seems to swim in the earth, merging seamlessly with it. "Mr. Rumblepants, kill that goblin!" Eugeni shouts to the elemental. It charges towards the commando, and attempts to smash the goblin's head with a rocky, earthen "fist". The goblin ducks partially out of the way, and the elemental's slam hits it in the torso instead of the head. There's a sickening crunch as several of its little goblin ribs shatter.
Eugeni smiles and draws and arrow from his quiver. He takes aim for the commando and draws the feathered shaft back to his cheek. While the mounted goblin is still reeling from the elemental's blow Eugeni releases his arrow. The missile flies unerringly through the melee to catch the goblin commando in the throat. The angle is such that the bloody broadhead erupts from the commando's cheek. The goblin topples and falls out of the saddle, dying quickly. "Koj muaj peev xwm tsis muaj Sandpoint!" he shouts at the goblins.
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Morythine continues his fight with a series of wild staff strikes, battering his foe to the ground.
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Flurry of blows with quarterstaff.
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Confronted with another pair of goblins, Kala continues her flowing movements blocking one goblin's attack with her shield, and letting the other's poorly aimed blow skid off her armor. She continues the movement with a full spin, attempting to slash the one on the right with her sword and finishing by bringing her shield down atop the other.
She connects with the sword, gravely wounding the goblin on the right, but the blade catches slightly, throwing off her attack with the shield. As her spin ends, she falls back into the defensive portion of her stance.
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against goblin at K18
against goblin at K19
Seeing that she won't be able to get in a clean shot with all the remaining goblins tied up in melee, Zoli decides to enter the fray.
As she runs forward, she reaches down to draw her rapier, and-- Oh crap, where is it? I know I stabbed a goblin with it back by the cathedral and then-- Great Calamitous Turn, I dropped it outside the temple when I needed my sling, didn't I? And then Poppa died, and then-- Yikes! Where's my dagger?!?
Barely recovering in time to arrive with anything in her hand at all, Zoli comes face to face with the goblin, shoving her knife into it's chest. The goblin makes a terrible gurgling, wheezing sound as the blood begins to pool on it's chest, but for now it's still standing.
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The three remaining goblins all attempt to flee, seeing their raid has been broken. The goblin dog follows their lead, bolting through the open city gates.
As the man realizes he is not about to become dinner for a bunch of goblins, he clambers out from behind his barrel and rushes forward to his saviors. He stops just short of Kala and takes in the sight of the armored woman who had just slain so many goblins.
"My dear, I owe you, and your friends, my life. Thank you, thank you a thousand times! It was as if Iomedae herself had came down to slaughter these vile creatures, though, even her divinity is likely to pale in comparison to your beauty," he blushes momentarily, realizing he made that last comment aloud, but soon composes himself. "My apologies, where are my manners. My dear, my name is Aldern. Aldern Foxglove. May I have the honor of knowing the name of my rescuer?" concluding his introduction with a bow.
Eugeni fires at least one more arrow at the fleeing goblins. He would have kept shooting, but as he was aiming for one, a cloud shaped like a stag suddenly flits past his vision in the distance. He stops up short, as a realization hits him seemingly from outside himself.
You've done your job, don't give in to hate.
Alright, Old Deadeye, I get your message, Eugeni thinks, lowering his bow. He looks at the handsome newcomer. "Everyone's okay, right?" he asks the other combatants, ignoring Foxglove for now.
"I don't mean to sound cruel, but... once our bearings are found, I recommend finding where this filth lairs and burning them out—figuratively and literally." Xamarath repeats the same process he employed formerly after the initial wave had fallen. Summoning the simple divination magics required, he scans the fallen for any sort of bauble or worthwhile trinket while hoping against all likelihood that they carry something of particularly worthwhile note.
While picking over the dead greenlings, he smiles out a praise in Eugeni's direction. "Azuth's gnarled wood! I can't believe I'm saying this, but it was nice to meet Mr. Rumblepants." He then flashes a wink in Zoli's direction at the remark. No doubt it would avail him or her little in light of the tragedy she has been dealt, but the attempt is made all the same.
"Yeah, he's been my friend since I was little. I can only call him one time each day for a short time, but he's pretty bad ass," Eugeni replies with a grin to Xamarath.
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"I am Kala Steelheart, Knight Errant of the Inheritor from the Land of the Linnorm Kings." Kala says. She then kneels and begins to clean the blade of her sword, first on a goblin's tunic, then wiping it on the grass. She continues speaking as she works, indicating each of her companions as she speaks, "These fine folks are Eugeni, Zoli, Morythine, Alina, Xamarath, and..."
Kala pauses realizing she never asked the name of the dwarf. "Well dwarf, what is your name?"
Choking back a laugh, Xamarath interjects "Fetidwaft Rankbraid! Lord of singed nostrils and bouqets most odorific!"
"If you think that's impressive, you should see the size of his hammer."
Morythine can't help but chuckle as Xamarath names the dwarf. He briefly tips his hat to his new acquaintances, then starts to quickly search the goblin corpses , pausing occasionally to admire how a blow or blast landed by his fellows has distorted a goblin body in an interesting fashion.
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Having been ensuring no goblin left alive after the battle, wading around with his waraxe and simultaneously adjusting his metal codpiece while facing away from the group, Bærn stops suddenly upon realizing that he’s being directly addressed. He slowly turns around, wide-eyed and with his hand still clutching his jewel-protector, and sees the entire group staring at him, awaiting his introduction.
Quickly attempting to compose himself and turning around to face the group, the smelly, sweaty, and awkward dwarf coughs and quickly bows to the group. ”Name’s Bærn Steelskull tha Olda’ o’ tha’ Steelskull Clan, firs’ son o’ ‘Eldok Steelskull an’ ‘Elga Mountainfis’, olda’ siblin’ ta Bjorn, Bjarn, Bjærn, Bjarnhildr, Bærnhildr, Bjarnr, Brynhildr, Bjornr, Bjærnr, Bjorg, Bjarnhilda, Bjarg, Brynhilda, an’ Bærn Steelskull tha Younga’, travellin’ smithy o’ armor, weap’ns, ‘ools, an’ anythin’ else ye can make ou’a metal.” At the end of his overly-long introduction worthy of a dwarf, he coughs and adds, ”Ye may call meh Bærn, tho’.”
Aldern looks through the Kala's helm, and into her dark eyes, and says, "Steelheart, such a hard sounding name for one so beautiful and kind to others." He then looks to everyone else gathered and continues, "And to the rest of you, well met! I hope that I can repay the kindness that you," his attention now back to Kala, "have shown me. I'll be in town for a few more days, I'm currently residing at the Rusty Dragon. When you are free, I'd love to talk with you more and perhaps reward you all properly for the service you have rendered me."
He then bows deeply to Kala, kissing her on the hand, should the Knight Errant be willing of such a gesture. He then looks beyond the group and says, "Ah, it appears everything must be settled in the town proper. Here comes the sheriff."
Indeed, from the south, the sheriff and several guards approach, Father Zantus in tow. The priest rushes over to the bodies of Os'dyn and Ardoc, but shakes his head solemnly when he realizes they have already passed. He then walks over to Eugeni, and asks, "Are you alright, son?" He looks south to the Cathedral looming over the other buildings, and says sadly, "This is not how this day should have ended. The temple hasn't even been consecrated. I suppose we will have to put that off until tomorrow. Will you join us?"
Sheriff Belor walks over to the gathered, heroes, and says, "Sandpoint thanks you, adventurers. The least we can do is make sure you have a warm bed tonight. I will make arrangements with my brother here on your behalf." he gestures to The White Deer before entering. A short moment later, a heated argument can be overheard from within, culminating in the owner, Garridan Viskalai, agreeing to give one night, and one night only, room and board to the seven of you. It is clear the two men do not get along.
"I'll be fine, Father. Unlike a lot of innocent people." Eugeni says frustratedly to the priest. "Of course I'll come to the cathedral tomorrow. I wouldn't miss it for anything. I'll just stay in the White Deer tonight in case any more goblins attack the town. We set up a temporary space for the wounded in the cathedral. Have you been there yet?"
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While picking over the dead greenlings, he smiles out a praise in Eugeni's direction. "Azuth's gnarled wood! I can't believe I'm saying this, but it was nice to meet Mr. Rumblepants." He then flashes a wink in Zoli's direction at the remark. No doubt it would avail him or her little in light of the tragedy she has been dealt, but the attempt is made all the same.
Zoli manages to muster a weak smile in return.
Poppa, I've met some amazing people today: Adventurers! A traveler! And I helped to defend Sandpoint, like a . I should be happy today, but...Poppa...
Zoli shakes her head in frustration, braids flying.
Seeing Foxglove focused only on Kala amongst all his rescuers, Zoli rolls her eyes, but she listens with amusement as the dwarf introduces himself. "Baern Steelskull? Are you and Kala Steelheart cousins, perhaps?" She sniffs the air around Kala. "Hmmm, I think I might sense a family resemblance," she teases, feeling a bit of her old self returning.
When Sheriff Belor arrives to thank them, Zoli swells with pride, despite her loss. "It was the least I could do, sheriff." Hearing Garridan's (reluctant) offer, Zoli pauses, nodding. Hmmm, maybe I don't want to be back at our-- at my house tonight.
Seeing Father Zantus talking to Eugeni, Zoli approaches as well, suddenly spinning from pride into disorientation. "Father, you'll...you'll...attend to the fallen, won't you? My father, Tanitus...poppa always loved Desna best. You remember him don't you, he--" suddenly the halfling is in tears again, pulling herself together only with considerable effort. "He was-- he didn't make it. You'll pray to Desna for him, won't you?"
Blowing her nose on a kerchief and wiping her eyes, she adds. "I'll walk back with you toward the cathedral. I seem to have misplaced my rapier and I have a feeling it's still there."
Still feeling a little disappointed that the fight is over, Morythine finds himself downwind of the stinking dwarf and edges away. Still, the opportunity to stay at the White Deer is a welcome one, if only for a night. Morythine’s used to surviving on tight means, and free board is not something to be spurned.
On one of the goblins the dhampir finds a rather stiff pouch, apparently made from horse’s scrotum, which to his delight is heavy with gold.
He shows his find to his companions. “Twenty gold pieces here; two each if we split them evenly, and six left over. Perhaps we should buy ourselves a feast, or at least some bottles of the finest red wine the Deer can muster.”
"Is this really a time to celebrate?" Eugeni asks, looking at the dhampir quizzically.
Father Zantus turns to Zoli, and sadly says, "Yes, of course, my dear. He will be taken well care of."
At Morythine's suggestion, he pats her on the back and says, "Go, relax with your new friends for the night. I and the other priests will attend the fallen," he then looks to Eugeni, "You as well, Eugeni. You have done enough this day."
Xamarath pauses for a moment to consider, then ultimately settles on a shrug. "I still have a room at the Rusty Dragon, but I suppose I can slum it up with you fine folk for a night."
Another broad grin appears, only to be immediately replaced by an inquisitive look skyward. The Thayvian seems to be looking for something, and soon it comes into view. A small, red bird approaches from the south. The poor avian has a girth the size of a donut, and its minuscule wings beat frantically in an effort to keep it aloft. Finally, after much trial and tribulation, the bright red cardinal descends and lands in a near crash on Xamarath's shoulders. Its tiny chest heaves up and down from the strain of its exertion. More alarmingly, it emits a small groan in the voice of a grown man—the sort of groan one might expect from one subjected to overexertion.
"Crichton? How did you get out of the room?"
Raising a wing tip to beg a moment's reprieve to catch his breath, Crichton eventually manages to perk up atop his perch on the red wizard's shoulder.
"Now that be a story in and of itself! I knew ya was doin' battle, I did. Always wiff the excitement, you are. So I's started yellin' loud as I may, aye? Wiff all tha commotion I suspect it were a good five minutes 'fore anybody listened, it were. So's then, woosh goes tha door a'openin' an' woosh goes I outside. Nearly beat me bloody wings off ta find ye, I did!"
His nerves seem to settle a bit, as does his rapid intake of oxygen with tiny gasps. "Oi, I see ye been makin' new friends, ye have! An' who be this fine lot o' folk?" The bird bobs up and down on Xamarath's shoulder, raising his head at cocked angle to examine the array of people gathering around.
As Morythine and Eugeni discuss whether this is really a time to celebrate, Zoli finds herself pondering just going home to clear her head. Maybe I just need to be by myself, be at home…
The sight of Xamarath’s talking cardinal lifts her spirits again. She’s heard of wizards having talking familiars of course, in stories, but she hasn’t met one before. This star-mage -- all of these curious people, these -- I need to get my mind off of Poppa tonight. These wonders are what I right now.
By the end of the bird’s colorful tale, Zoli seems to be her old self again, at least for the moment. Bowing to the bird, she smiles and says ”Well Crichton, I am none other than Zoli Tileani, the soon-to-be-famous explorer of Thassilonian ruins. This furry guy here is Eugeni, a devotee of Erastil, and the sharpest shot in Sandpoint! This lovely lady is Alina, a travelling enchantress from Chelax. These two are Kala and Baern Steelbits. They were separated as children and only just now reunited, by the good grace of Desna, Tender of Dreams.” At this point she’s grinning roundly at her own ribbing.
”Over here is Morythine. He-- hmm, well he wears a hat and punches goblins in the throat. Other than that he’s a bit of a mystery so far, but I think he was just offering to tell us more about himself over a bottle of the best wine they’ve got here in the White Deer.”
Pausing, she adds, turning to Morythine, ”And I think I need to get my mind off of...everything for the night. A drink with odd adventurers from out of town, or,” nodding to Xamarath, ”from far off stars seems to be just what the cleric ordered.”
"Aye. I could use another drink, something harder than that beer we had earlier." Eugeni definitely still seems upset at the day's events. He keeps flexing and unflexing his hands into fists, and staring off into space every few seconds with a vacant look. Normally he would be delighted to meet a talking cardinal, but right now he seems unfazed. Anger keeps creeping onto his features before he visibly takes a deep breath and smooths his face. He heads into the White Deer, confident that eventually the others will follow.
He nods to the owner, who he does business with on a semi-regular basis. "Afternoon, Mr. Viskalai. I'll have a double Oldlaw, please," Eugeni says, sitting down at one of the bar stools. "Can you believe what just f&@&ing happened?" he asks the bartender morosely.
"Is this really a time to celebrate?"
Morythine shrugs, unsure of how to answer the dog-man, still uncertain himself how deep its reasoning goes. He met a gnoll once, and saw enough to conclude such folk were not really worth taking seriously.
”In my experience, death doesn’t check a man’s diary for festivities when he comes calling. Best celebrate when you’ve got the breath to enjoy it.” Morythine almost continues, but uncertain as to whether the dog-man understands his point, or truthfully whether he even understands it himself, he hesitates and simply shrugs again.
He follows the others into the White Deer. Not feeling confident enough of his fellows’ approval to spend the goblin gold on an expensive bottle, he simply calls for ”Red wine,” and contents himself with supping whatever this request produces. He eyes Zoli nervously, worried she might follow up on her threat to find about more about him, and unsure of how he should going about expressing sympathy for her father’s death should the halfling approach him.
As promised, Garridan provides the local heroes to a nice meal and one round of drinks that evening. When the idle chat is concluded and an interest in sleep is expressed, he shows you each to your rooms. The rooms are spacious, more so than the Rusty Dragon, several of you note. Each room has a dresser, chest, chamber pot, and large, soft bed.
The next day, you are all invited to the consecration ceremony of the cathedral. It is much more subdued than originally planned, and takes place indoors amongst the seven stones in the inner courtyard.
Afterwards, a mass funeral service for the fallen is held. It turns out, there are a total of 8 victims in the attack, as well as Zoli’s father. Acolytes worked through the night to prepare graves for them all, and each is given a proper burial in individual ceremonies.
Afterwards, each of you set out to settle up your living arrangements for at least the next few days.
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"Oh, don't worry. I was planning on staying close. I won't allow anything else to harm my community if I can help it," Eugeni says to the sky. He heads back into Sandpoint as soon as he wakes up in the morning. He only leaves town long enough to hunt for food for the day and to sleep.
In the bar, as the wine begins to flow, Zoli looks around at the odd assortment of characters with whom she's distracting herself from her grief.
Taking a big drink of wine, she says, "Eugeni and I are the only natives of Sandpoint, unless I'm mistaken. What brought the rest of you to the Festival? Are you pilgrims of Desna? And what led you to bravely join the defense of a town not your own?"
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After ordering a flagon of mead, Kala settles down with the group. She still wears her weaponry in case of another goblin attack, though her helmet and shield are leaning against the chair she occupies. Upon hearing the halfling's question, Kala replies "I came to pay last respects to my brother, Ragnar Brokenaxe. He was working for a man named Daviren Hosk here in Sandpoint, dealing with some goblin tribe when he was killed. The letter said some sort of poison took him before they could get back to the village priests."
Kala's demeanor is somewhat somber, but she seems as though she has already done her grieving for her brother. After a moment of reflection, the warrior continues speaking, "As to the gods, I follow Iomedae, and seek to live by the example she set by her Acts. The Inheritor defended Kantaria and Eleder though they were not her own, and I attempt to follow her path by defending Sandpoint. It is my duty and my calling to defend those who are weak, to quell evil wherever it tries to stand, and to harry that evil to the ends of Golarion." Kala's eyes are lit with fervor and conviction, it is obvious that she is no pretender to her faith.
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Kala's meeting with Daviren had gone very well so far, and she was glad to know that Ragnar had been a man of worth all the way to his death. He must have been, seeing as how Mr. Hosk had just offered her the choice of any one of his war trained horses, as well as stabling and tack for it. Kala inspected each of the horses thoroughly. She'd been trained for mounted combat, and taken care of many horses as a girl. One horse stood above all the rest by a fair margin. A black stallion, 16 hands in height, and probably weighing around 90 stones . It's teeth marked it healthy and it was well muscled but not overly large, capable of moving quickly even when mounted and barded. It's hooves and shoes were in fine condition, with no cracks denoting disease or a poor farrier.
Her mind made up, Kala says, "I'll take this one, what's his name?"
"I'm sure my own beliefs surprise none in their strangeness. I'm only fleetingly aware of Desna and the other Powers of this place. Although, I suppose as one capable of invoking destruction with gesture and phrase I at least owe that Nethys chap a lip service or two. Magic is strange here."
Extending a finger towards his wine glass, Xamarath retrieves a minuscule thorax of some sort of insect from the pouch that hangs at his left hip. Uttering lowly "సంకేతాలనుపంపు" he touches the base of the glass, causing it to shimmer brightly and cast a soft red glow across the room as its rays mingle with the red liquid within.
"I was taught to bend The Weave in my homeland. Indeed, manipulating the forces that make magic possible there is not unlike a seamstress with needle and thread, to use a simple analogy. But here," Xamarath says, the illumination of his glass revealing a glimmer of glee in his features, "it requires a more... forceful hand. It feels less like coaxing the primal energies into form. Rather, one must wrestle it into submission. Like a fisherman's craft caught in turbulent tides."
Xamarath's revery fades, and the light spell conjured upon his glass winks out as well. "I seem to have grown rather fond of comparing magic to the toils of commonfolk!"
Eugeni drinks his one drink in simmering silence. There is a stark contrast with his easy going demeanor earlier in the day during the festival. After finishing his drink, he said "I need some time alone. I'll see you all tomorrow morning," and headed up to his room.
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"I've never really thought much about magic," Kala says, somewhat amused at the wizard. "The wise woman said that I had the ability, but I wanted to be a warrior like my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother before me. She was rather disappointed." The warrior lets out a short laugh, nearly a giggle, and continues, "Old Hilde's face was almost red she was so angry with me." Kala switches to a tone apparently mocking the old lady's voice, "Kala, it's shameful that you waste your brilliant mind swinging steel around and rolling in the mud!"
She laughs a bit longer and calms down with a sigh, resuming her normal voice, "Well, I can't say I know if I'd have liked magic better, but I know I like who I am."
Xamarath nods with a smile at Kala's words, though the smile turns wistful in nature after a time. "Preference is not an option, nor is it advisable where I hail from. If you have the gift, you are taught. The methods of instruction are quite brutal and merciless, as well. Although, my father did intervene once when he felt my instructor had gone too far—reprimanding an apprentice is not unheard of by any means, though scarring tissue with conjured motes of acid is needlessly drastic, I think all would agree. Dad was enraged, and that's rare. He's usually Master Cool and Composed, but not this time. I didn't get to witness the encounter, sadly, but my uncle told me Instructor Salthizar was utterly unhinged when dad was through. Dad was kinda high up in the who's who of Thayvian Enchanters. Very high up. And about as stuck up and rigid as such accolades imply."
Xamarath inhales and exhales a short chortle. "That's been a while, though. I don't think I was ten years old yet when that all happened." Leaning forward a bit, the Thayvian begins swirling the wine glass in his hands. "Truth be told, the entire reason I'm out this way is Thassilonian ruins. There are striking similarities between the stories of that place and where I'm from. Some of the details are almost identical; the good and the bad."
What brought the rest of you to the Festival? Are you pilgrims of Desna? And what led you to bravely join the defense of a town not your own?"
This question at least, Morythine hopes can be sidestepped with a deliberately vague response. “Just chance really,” he answers, fiddling with the frayed brow of his tricorn. “I’ve been a wanderer for many years. I stumbled into Sandpoint and its festival, and stumbled into a fight. Where fate leads me next; it’s difficult to say, but I need some coin and I enjoy breaking goblin skulls. Perhaps there’s a place for me here.”
Morythine savours his single glass of wine, but imbibes no more. First of all, he’s not sure he can afford it, and despite his earlier words he doesn’t want to offend his newfound companions by being frivolous with the loot they’ve claimed. Once the cup is empty, he’s heads for his room, nodding silently in appreciation of the comfort. Despite years of hard living on the road, part of him still secretly craves luxury, perhaps a desire inherited from the aristocratic father he never knew.
Morythine looks at his dwarven companion. Surely this vile game will appeal to his foul smelling companion.
The next day, it would seem that word has spread through the streets of the services you each performed in the defense of the town. At one point, local baker Alma Avertin rushes out of her shop to give Eugeni a fresh baked loaf of bread, concerned the man may feel awkward in town after all that has happened, as well as that he may be hungry.
As Morythine and Baern awake in the Hagfish, they are offered several rounds of drinks by it's patrons, and Baern is officially challenged to have a go at Norah's tank.
Zoli is approached by Cyrdak Drokkus, offering his condolences as well as trying to persuade her to audition for a role in his newest play.
When Kala visit's Savah's Armory to get some of the damage to her armor repaired, not only are the minor repairs taken care of for free, but she is offered an immediate 20% discount on anything in the shop!
As Xamarath leaves the Rusty Dragon, he notes a few odd items at his door. One is a red hair ribbon that nearly matches the color of his robes, another is an anonymous letter, inside containing a love poem written in what would appear to be a feminine hand. As he leaves the inn itself, at various times he can over hear groups of girls giggling and whispering about his "availability."
In the early afternoon, however, each of you receive a message from Sheriff Hemlock requesting you all to join him at the Garrison for a meeting.
Once everyone has had a chance to arrive, a clerk steps into the Sheriff's office, then promptly exits and asks you all to step inside. The man's office is kept extremely neat, and the walls are adorned with a map of the town itself, as well as another of the surrounding area, with various markings on each. Sheriff Hemlock himself is looking out his second story window out over the shoreline. Without turning, he says, "I need to thank you properly for the service you rendered this town. An attack of this sort was not expected given the circumstances of the day. But," he turns and has a seat behind his desk, gesturing for you all to seat in the chairs prepared for you, "what's done is done, and now I have been tasked with figuring out what it all was about. We managed to capture a few of the trouble makers. One swears it had nothing to do with the raid, the rest, well, Vachedi managed to get a little bit of information out of them. They were apparently given orders to kill everyone in town and burn it to the ground, by a human. At the least, not a goblin."
He pauses before speaking further, looking at each of you before continuing, "I asked you all here because of what you did for us when this town was in need, and I hope you will continue to lend Sandpoint your services. I am taking a risk telling you what I'm about to say, but seeing as you fought against this attack, I highly doubt you are involved."
Hemlock leans back in his chair, then says, "The goblins mentioned that their leader was on a secret mission in the graveyard while this attack was going on. When Father Zantus and I investigated, we discovered that the tomb containing the remains of Father Tobyn had been opened, and his body stolen. The two of us decided to keep this secret for now, as we do not want to panic the town further, but to steal the body of someone so beloved to the town...to me that means it was someone from this town that orchestrated this. That's why I'm trusting you, the town's defenders, and only you with this information. I'm asking you each to stick around in town, or at least nearby, until this matter is settled, to act as a sort of eyes and ears on the street in an unofficial capacity. See if you can come up with information my deputies and myself cannot."
Eugeni thanks Alma with a smile, and gladly enjoys the fresh bread. He goes to check on Zoli in the morning, before their meeting with the sheriff. He makes sure she's okay, and brings her some leftover rabbit from his morning hunt and some of the bread from Alma. "I lost the woman I considered to be my mother too. I know what its like," he offers by way of condolence.
"Who would want to destroy their own town?" Eugeni asks incredulously. "Who were Father Tobyn's enemies?"
He shakes his head. "He was a serious man, but well liked and respected by all as far as I know. When he and his daughter died, the entire town mourned their passing. But it would seem he had an enemy amongst us after all. And if they've kept it secret this long, it's likely they are capable of continuing doing so unless they slip up. That's where I want you all to come in."
"Where was the Father buried? Were there any clues as to who might have taken him there?" Eugeni continues to question the Sheriff.
The Sheriff's words become terse at Eugeni's continued probing. "His remains were entombed in the cemetery, of course. And had there been anymore clues, I would have shared them with you or arrested the ones responsible already."
He calms himself a moment before continuing, "But if you want to have a look for yourselves, go ahead, but don't draw any attention to yourselves, as his body's theft is supposed to be a secret. We've already resealed his shrine to hopefully avoid any panic."
"I mean no offense sir, I was just hoping to look for tracks near the burial sight. Other than that, I don't really have another way to solve the crime. But I'll be sticking around for the next while regardless, in case anything happens again." Eugeni says apologetically.
The sheriff sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger. "No, it is I who should apologize. Of course you meant no offense by it. It's just been a hectic time here because of all this, and I have no way of knowing how far this person is willing to take this. Please, do any of you have further questions?"
Morythine glances left, glances right, thinks about the how light his coin purse is, blinks, and asks his question.
"Erm, if we're working for the sheriff, do we get paid as deputies?"
Sheriff Hemlock nods at Kala's eagerness appreciatively, and it would seem her enthusiasm helped to negate any negative reaction he may have had at fronting some coin.
He reaches into his desk and pulls out a coin purse, saying as he does so, "Father Tobyn was the previous high priest of our community. His death weighed heavily on Sandpoint for quite some time, but Father Zantus has been up to the task of taking his place. Here are five coins to get you started, and more to come should you be willing to continue to aid us, discreetly, of course..."
He slides five gold for each of you across the desk.
"Thank you sir," Eugeni says, putting the coins in with his others. That's a significant amount of money. Maybe I don't have to be a hunter forever. It's been so lonely lately. I could become a sheriff like Mr. Hemlock or some kind of warrior or something.
