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Lucy snorts as she steps up into the carriage.
Hardly. Their scorn wouldn't be worth the time of day to a proper Chelaxian Noble such as myself. Thinking about Galtan Nobility is rather like talking about a stray dog who's master has died and now is flea-bitten and mange ridden. You offer pity because it's the appropriate and proper thing to do, but it doesn't change that it's a disgusting creature that you wouldn't invite into your own home.
She sighs as she settles in and tells the driver their next location.
There is several silver in it for you if you get us to our next location comfortably. No stops for refreshments until we get there.
"Sure thing! Sure thing! But before we go would you like a picture to commemorate your experience here as rendered by someone else? Maybe get you all, the person you were mugging, the cave, and one of my signs on the frame? I call them Someone Elsies™. We--err, I even customize them with a bit of fancy calligraphy saying stuff like 'Cave of the Unknown! Wish you were here!'" Dibbler says. He has on a painter's smock and holds a bundle of art supplies under one arm.
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Lucy gives Dibbler a look that emphatically conveys "If looks could kill, you would wish you where that lucky.".
Sir. I understand your wish to make money. I also assume you are businessman, so I will assume you understand the difference between long term and short term investments. Keeping me happy is a long term investment with high returns. I will pay you above your normal wages for expediency, quiet, and comfort. Making me unhappy is a short term investment with poor returns. It means that while you may make some money from me in the short term as I am inclined to pay you a sum of money to shut your yapping mouth, it depletes my patience. Should my patience run out, I will happily snap your neck, drive the damn horses myself, and feed your entrails to my rabbit. Now... are you a long term investor, or a short term investor?
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As Lucy gives her... enlightening speech, Mara licks his lips and stares intently at him with the same kind of look that he's seen in wild dogs tearing into a corpse. It let's out a low... purr? Growl? Some sort of deep noise as Lucy makes her threat to feed him to the black furred rabbit.
GRRRRRR....rr.....
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"As opposed to," he states matter-of-factly, "you being lost in thought. Seems like you and Fomalhaut are scheming up something."
Tawner raises an eyebrow as if awaiting a reply.
He turns his attention briefly to Lucy. "Lucy. Which one of you talks less? That who I want to invest in." He chuckles to himself, enjoying the fact that he's not on the receiving end of her intimidating effect.
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"As opposed to," he states matter-of-factly, "you being lost in thought. Seems like you and Fomalhaut are scheming up something."
"Oh, that. Of course. We were just getting to the part where I lead a legion of wolves and spiders and things that go bump in the night to march upon civilization as an ingenious distraction while Fomalhaut ascends to devour the sun, plunging the world into eternal darkness."
"But ma'am, Gralton is a three-day carriage ride."
"So I should just stay here then?"
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Lucy sighs and rubs her temples.
I don't know, we found you, and it was rather easy, and the ones who want to kill you probably aren't gonna be as nice about it since they don't care about the silver hex, so it might be a good idea to come with.
She then looks at the driver.
So your not willing? Then take us back to town where we can get someone who is and STOP WASTING MY TIME.
She sits back in the carriage, apparently becoming grumpy with all this fuss.
"I don't think going into a town while I have a price on my head is such a smart idea."
"I really didn't pack for more than a three hour tour. Oh yeah, and she would be extra." Dibbler turns to Ulisha. "Pardon my asking, but how much is the price? On your head I mean."
Ulisha gives everyone present a withering look.
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"Stay here, Ulisha. You've named your price, now you have to sit in the cold cave worrying about what comes in the dark." He glances at Lucy. "If you show your face, it's liable to get cut off."
"Now, as for you." He points to Dibbler. "I'm not above using my lash on a slow driver or his horses. Maybe you should get on with it before I have cause to."
Dibbler returns the party to Daggermark to lay in supplies for the journey to Gralton, leaving Ulisha alone to deal with whatever other ravaging bands of Pathfinders or assassins there are out in the these lawless wilds.
Dibbler returns the party to Daggermark to lay in supplies for the journey to Gralton, leaving Ulisha alone to deal with whatever other ravaging bands of Pathfinders or assassins there are out in the these lawless wilds.
*Crash!* Dawn breaks! Or someone dropped a bedpan downstairs.
It's the first non-rainy day you've had in Daggermark.
Dibbler offers everyone a sausage in a bun for breakfast.
The party boards his carriage and they're are off. Three days and several sausage-based meals (sausage-inna-bun, sausage-inna-stew, sausage-inna-pie, sausage-gelatin) later they arrive at the gates of Gralton.
"'allo, 'allo! Greeteng mon friénds! Mai ai 'ave yur names and reasons for visiteng ur fine citay todai?" greets one of the guardsman wielding a quill pen and folio of paper.
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Lucy looks... Grumpy. We'll go with Grumpy. Dealing with rovagug himself might be preferable to dealing with Lucy after riding in a carriage for 3 days and subsisting on sausage. She leans forward and gives the guard a glare.
My name is Lucy Galonnica, of the Cheliaxian Galonnica, loyal servants of her infernal Magistrix Abrigail the Third of Thrice Damned House Thrune, long may the queen's reign be, and I am in town to visit extended family and to engage in family business pertinent to the running of internal affairs for my house. I request that you allow us to proceed with most haste, as I have been traveling in this unfortunate contraption for days and have not had a decent thing to eat in as many days and I dearly wish to rent a room and a hot bath.
Her voice is relatively pleasant, if clearly tinged with impatience.
"Sorry zat iz with zee 'gee, aye, elle'...? ....And do you 'ave anyzing to declaire?"
"Et you Monsiéur?"
"Non, iz shé wiv you? Ai can tak hair info now, if you like?"
The guardsman finishes taking down everyone's information before allowing the party to pass.
Dibbler contemplates the added charges of international delivery and customs fees.
Dibbler drives the carriage to cemetery and then moves on saying "It's bad luck to hang around cemeteries this near dusk. I'll be around the block. Just whistle when you're ready for a pick up."
For a small city, Gralton boasts an ostentatious cemetery, with the tombs of wealthy Galtan refugees evoking their lost glories. Yet the gate seems to be unguarded and ajar.
Just to the left of the entrance the group makes out the name "Tullivor" in bold relief on a large white mausoleum. The baroque marble tomb clamors for attention like a gaudy flag waving for a once noble house. Its most audacious feature is a sculpted badger that looms, gargoyle-like, above the door. The iron door is decorated not only with the Tullivor name and crest, but also with an elaborate arcane rune.
Before the crypt however is a more immediate reminder of mortality--the body of a man rests slumped over a decorative plinth set in the ground in front of the iron mausoleum door.
"See, I told you the guards could be dead." Dominic leaves the body to the others and he looks up at the arcane rune on the door.
It is a ward of some sort a sort of dangerous magical trap but one made apparent to all. 'Danger do not pass'.
Tawner, forgetting a sense of danger, moves to see if the man is indeed dead.
"Gah!" Tawner cries out and pulls away instinctively.
"This man is dead," Tawner agrees matter-of-factly, but with a sour look on his face...which is hard for the others to distinguish from his normal visage. He takes a deep breath and begins to mutter while tending to his wounds.
The man was killed with a short-bladed sword. He also has some small animal claw marks on his face. The body is still warm.
In pulling the man away from the plinth and laying him on the ground Tawner reveals the bronze bust of a nobleman (presumably someone connected to the marble crypt). Then the statue turns its head and imperiously speaks to Tawner!
“When the last son falls upon this spot, receive my thanks.” Then the bronze face smirks before returning to its initial pose, and going still.