With little other choice, Eshkeval will take a seat at the bar and continue to mind his own business. In order to pass the time, he will take out some of his unfinished sketches from earlier, and will work towards making them more detailed and fleshed out.
"Not at all, well met! I'm actually due to meet with said baron later today; anything I ought to know, beyond his penchant for ambitious projects?"
Eshkeval looks up from his drawings. "The Baron? Baron Garstang?" The words leave Eshkeval's lips almost as soon as he hears the words.
"Excuse my rudeness, but could you possibly be involved in Baron Garstang's latest project? From what I gather, it's meant to be some kind of building, possibly a house of some sort. Rumor has it in the art community that it's going to be completely unlike any other house ever conceived."
Aemur smiles at Cayden's friendly greeting. Cayden, eh? A pleasure, I'm sure. Aemur it is and traveling is my trade. Aemur sits back and listens in at Kolmac's question. He is surprised by Eshkeval's sudden intrusion into the conversation. It seems everyone has an interest in this Baron... He seems to be well connected. I am more and more certain he must have some knowledge of the attack...
Cayden smiled as well, and seemed rather interested in Eshkeval and Kolmac's knowledge and interests in the Baron, remembering his aims. "Ah. Admittedly... I can't say I have a connection to the baron aside from my grandfather's fairy tales. Currently I just make nails for him, though..."
He looked over at Aemur and his contemplative state, "I don't want to ask anything rude of any of you, but I haven't really been outside of the town for any significant period, have any of you three noticed anything strange lately?" He tried to hide his real motives for asking it, but was probably awful at it (would I need to roll anything?)
Eshkeval turns to Cayden and asks, "What kind of nails do you make for the Baron?" Maybe he can gleam some new information concerning the Baron's secret project from these people who work with him...
"That said, what exactly do you mean by 'anything strange?'" Eshkeval wonders. "I don't think I've seen anything strange recently, aside from the Baron's meeting with the social elite. Course, I doubt I'm really the best person to ask that question to; I do sometimes get... preoccupied... with my work when I'm walking around."
As there was no information to be gained, Dair saddled up his dog, and rode out towards Paillard.
As there was no information to be gained, Dair saddled up his dog, and rode out towards Paillard.
You end up in for a bumpy ride, but at least don't fall off and injure yourself - barely.
He tried to hide his real motives for asking it, but was probably awful at it (would I need to roll anything?)
"Potentially, at least. He's working on a grand townhouse--I was asked to consult on some unusual applications of magic in the construction."
Curiously, there is nothing to Kolmac's appearance to suggest any aptitude with magic--the typical bystander would more likely have pegged him as a woodsman between the hatchet at his hip and sturdy and practical clothing.
"Hmm...unusual applications of magic? How intriguing..." Eshkeval trails off, looking aimlessly into the distance, before returning to a state of clarity and scribbling a quick mess on his paper for a while. He's stopped again, but rather than a look of bemused merriment, it's more of a look of confusion.
"If you've been asked to speak with the Baron, then why are you here right now?" Eshkeval wonders. "As we speak, the Baron is engaged in a meeting concerning the details of his new project; surely you would have an invitation to be part of the proceedings, no?"
It was probably obvious to anyone really trying to notice anything unusual that he was very... Nervous around his new company, and that his questioning must have some purpose
Kolmac grins wryly. "My invitation, as it were, arrived in Northwind two months ago. I've only just arrived."
"If there's a meeting on, I'd best make my way over immediately. You'll all have to excuse me." He grabs the satchel hanging over the back of his chair and slings it over a shoulder and hurries towards the door.
"Wait!" Eshkeval calls out, hand out-stretched. "If you are new to town, you might need an escort. I can point you in the right direction to where you are meant to go."
Adjusting himself, Eshkeval continues, "I only ask that if you are allowed to bring in an entourage, that I am allowed to join you. I have some ideas for a house design that I've been working on, and I think they could be of interest to the Baron..."
Aemur watches Eshkeval go with bemusement. He turns to Cayden. That one was in a hurry! I wonder how much he intends to charge the baron for those plans he's so keen on... Chuckling to himself, he looks around.
Not noticing anyone paying attention, he sobers slightly. You know, I have seen something odd. Just outside of town a ways, there was an entire camp that had burned down in the night. I'm not sure how long it might have been that way, but it was fairly recent.
"Appreciated; I'll get you inside if I can." Eshkeval and Kolmac will head directly for the Bengal Palace.
Cayden seemed exceedingly interested and worried about the turn of events and Aemur's story
If he noticed the dwarf's worry, he'd probably be rather interested in that fact. "Well... whilst we're telling secrets, things have been a bit unusual around here as well. A young boy recently went missing. So... I've been rather on edge". He trusted the smaller creature, perhaps more than he ought to.
It's getting late by then, but things at the Bengal Palace seem to be going full swing. The thug at the door looks like he's going to assault Eshkeval (who still feels a shiver of fear that he's to be left dead in a ditch by the end of the evening), but receives Kolmac's story and opens the door. Inside, he nods to another disreputable-looking "officer," who takes over door duty, and escorts you past an extravagant bar room and into the back, to a private booth.
There, a big, fit-looking human man is drinking a glass of whisky, talking with a carefully neutral-looking elf. The thug whispers something in the big human's ear and the latter quickly stands, shakes hands with the elf and promises to be in contact soon, and motions for the two of you to share his booth, holding up two fingers to the thug. The elf departs, nodding to you slightly.
The ruffian returns with two more glasses and a bottle of North Estren malt and then withdraws; the big human personally fills the glasses with a generous hand. He hands a glass to each of you, semi-formally but with a touch of self-deprecation. The personal magnetism coming off of the man is almost stifling in its intensity; you both immediately sense that this is the type of person who can build empires. Smiling, he says, "I am Baron Garstang. Thank you for coming, Sir Kormac, and of course any associate of yours is quite welcome. It's no secret that this whole kingdom owes you for your mother's service, but I think you can offer one just as great, if not greater."
You are struck with awe, and realize that he sees something far beyond the perception of most mortals -- that he has divined the intersection of magic and building and artistry and that the key to the cosmos is within his reach. You realize suddenly that this man's dreams the same ones you've had all your lives, that you'd both happily die to be a part of what he's building.
Manwhile, at the smaller local inn, Aemur and Cayden -- both a trifle abashed at how much they've inadvertently blurted out -- share another pint of ale, courtesy of the innkeeper.
diplomacy for.. some reason?
Sorry to hear it, Dair. Certainly no apologies are needed!
Yes, you can Take 10, and yes, you make it there.
1d20+3=13
Eshkeval's composure is shaken. Having an intense personality himself, he is generally at ease around others, but today is something new. First his unreasoning terror of the brutish off-duty policeman at the door, and now his blind devotion to the construction magnate...
Kolmac is so taken in by the guy's enthusiasm, presence, and assurance that he's ready to name kids after the guy!
Garstang rubs his face briefly, then fixes his earnest gaze on each of you in turn. "I'm sure we can agree that most contemporary forms are far too limited for what they're meant to do. A building like this one--" he waves around him, "--is okay for what it is, a gaudy temple to one's vices." He drains the scotch in his glass and commences packing a pipe. "But as places to really live and work in? Bah. We spend most of our lives in little rectangular boxes, thinking little rectangular thoughts. It's small wonder people have so little imagination."
Getting the pipe going, he leans forward. "But what if we could form space in different ways? The possibilities are limitless. Imagine a selectively transparent building, that wasn't dependent on a foundation or mundane walls -- like one of your mother's force shields or a Leomund's hut, but shaped on a larger scale? Cascading rivers, even flood waters and winds, would no longer be a threat, but centerpoints of dramatic effect."
Pipe ignored, he goes on: "Or two identical towers that resonate their locations together -- we could in essence be working at two places at once; staff across the world would work together as if they were in the same office."
He takes a puff of the pipe, refills his glass. "Yes, these sorts of buildings would require new magics and new building materials, to make them possible. I want to develop those things, and I hope you can help me. I propose to design and build a private residence near here as a pilot test case, using my own money. If the results are satisfactory, I have a large client who would like to see them implemented on a larger scale, in at least one major urban center." He smiles. "The profits of that project, in terms of both coin and the advancement of humanoid esthetic, would obviously be quite considerable."
Garstang makes a toasting gesture to you with his glass and drinks the contents. "If you're interested, I'm prepared to consider you my employees effective immediately. Any of your staff whom you can trust, and whose help you would need, can do likewise. Or, if you prefer, I can contract you as consultants, subject to the usual confidentiality conditions. The details can be worked out; what I need to know now is, can I trust you to see it through, and can you contribute enough to be worth the cost?"
Kolmac is practically falling over himself to prove his usefulness to the baron, awestruck by the man's demeanor and caught up in his vision. He launches into several minutes of rambling ideas and theoretical considerations; all things he had considered during his travels southward but all out of order.
"...of course the main consideration in the case of magical force is its nature as a field, rather than a static object like traditional materials. If I may," he pauses just long enough to catch a breath, draws his wand, and activates mage armor, encasing himself in plates of shimmering silver, "what most folks and even most mages don't understand is that even a basic protective spell utilizes an arcano-polaric inversion; look closely and you can see each field is in constant motion." He pokes at a plate on his arm with the wand in demonstration, and the subtle motion within the field shifts in response. The possibilities, as you suggest, are endless--invisible buttresses, channeling wind or water around and through a structure, you can even enhance the visibility of the fields and create a sculpture of perpetual motion crafted from pure magic alone."
He pauses for a proper breath and finally remembers himself. "Of course, I'm sure you've already considered much of this, with such a bold vision. Pardon my rambling, it's just so rare to see someone with such insight into the potential applications of magic. I would be honored to work on such a project. I'll need to consult some other specialist mages, of course, but for the core research I'm your man. Oh, though I'm not much of an artist." He looks meaningfully at Eshkeval, giving the other man an opportunity to make his pitch.
Cayden was nervous about saying the wrong thing still, but decided he would be the one to break the silence in the tavern, "I think I ought to check up on it, I hadn't really thought of the baron's plans much but I ought to keep an ear on it in case... Oh never mind it!" He ran off towards the mentioned large garish building that basically everyone in town knew was the meeting house.
Cayden was incredibly nervous. He didn't think that the baron had any ill will towards his people, but he still wondered if any of the disappearances had to do with that man's projects.
The following is general knowledge: Paillard is at the far west end of South Province, set amidst a spur of the ominous Forest of Trevallaine that extends east across the Owlbrook River. As a town, it is of no note whatsoever save that it serves as the seat of the barony of the same name: a tract of land extending north to Green Lake and south to the Straits of Valtar, and east about two-thirds of the way to Sovalles -- the town of Aramard, situated on that border, opted unanimously to be part of Sovalles Barony instead. There are no popular locations. The only historical event of note occurring there was a lot of fighting during the Days of Darkness, now largely forgotten. The laws are the same as those throughout Aviona: only unprovoked assault, murder, rape, and theft are actually illegal; almost everything else is resolved by millennia-old customs no one fully understands, or, barring that, by duels.
Baron Garstang continues pouring scotch as long as Eshkeval and Kolmac keep drinking it; evidently his capacity is as large as his personality. If you're not careful, you may become more that a bit impaired.
Thanks to years working at the family distillery, Kolmac is well aware of his limits. He drinks unreservedly (not wanting to slight their host's generosity) but at a pace he can (probably) manage.
During a lull in the conversation (or as much as one can exist with a man like the Baron in the room), Kolmac starts briefly, then fumbles around in his satchel a moment. "And I've forgotten myself, please, accept this humble gift, courtesy of my mother and father." He presents his last bottle of Kaeldbrekkr gin to the baron. "Our finest from last season, a specialty batch infused with rhubarb from my father's garden. May you drink it in good health."
Aemur looks after the retreating human. Seems like everyone is off to see the Baron, invited or not... Maybe I ought to wander my way over there myself. Might be able to learn something, and a walk wouldn't hurt either. Aemur finishes his drink, and settles his tab. He returns to his room, outfitting himself a little more thoroughly than he had the day before. Now armed and armored, he exits the tavern and starts making his way down the streets, paying attention to the mood of the townsfolk and everything he can see from the street. .
As he was on a job, Dair opted to put work before pleasure. Since he was looking into missing children, he decided to check with the local sheriff first.
Aemur looks around town, noticing nothing particularly unusual. The recent destruction of the goblin camp seems to have gone unnoticed. The baron's gaudy club seems to form the nucleus of a new, expanding downtown district, while the more established stuff, now pushed to the side, seem quaint in comparison.
He presents his last bottle of Kaeldbrekkr gin to the baron.
It's immediately clear that the baron has absolutely no idea what you've just handed him. Quick to regain his composure, he smiles conspiratorially and says, "I bet there's a story behind this bottle?"
Since he was looking into missing children, he decided to check with the local sheriff first.
Dair, riding about a bit, quickly sees that Paillard isn't all that big a town, and he finds the local Watch (AKA police) station easily enough -- a sternly utilitarian brick edifice at the south end of town, two stories tall. Inside, hehind a large desk covered in papers, sits a tall, somewhat formal-looking human with a big belly. To one side, a lean, uncouth-looking half-elf sits in a chair, tilted back and oiling a light crossbow. The human wears a suit and cloak; the half-elf sports a Town Watch uniform. A rack of heavy maces adorns one wall, with a rack of light crossbows sitting beneath it. As you come in, the human says, "Yes, can I help you? But please tie the dog outside; town health ordinances prohibit dogs in the building." Despite his size, the human seems to have little personal presence, and indeed almost disappears into the background.
The half-elf stares disinterestedly at you as he finishes oiling the crossbow and puts down the rag.
You read absolutely nothing from their faces; their thoughts are entirely unfathomable, and you have no idea if they recognize who or what you are.
Eshkeval was speechless. For the first time in recent memory, Eshkeval was actually...INTERESTED in another person! No, "interested" didn't do it justice. He felt genuine admiration for this man; he would do almost anything this man asked him. He found himself spluttering and bubbling as he hastily agreed to the Baron's every word.
When a lull in conversation began, he knew he had to do it. He cleared out a small area for himself, took out his Artbook and Holy Symbol, and began to draw. His art supplies and unfinished sketches of house idea spilled in every direction--no, those ideas wouldn't do. They paled in comparison to his new muse. Wasting no time, he immediately set out to draw a portrait of Baron Garstang himself.
Following the human's instructions, Dairkal ties up his riding dog outside, giving it a pat on the head and scratch behind the ears before returning to the desk.
"Hi there! My name is Dairkal Nimblecloak, and I'm here on behalf of my mistress Countess Mathilde d'Ansac. She has asked me to investigate the disappearance of two young boys from your town. Is there any information you can share with me?"
The large human stands up and reaches across the desk to shake hands.
"Welcome, Mr. Nimblecloak; I am Chief Robles. Yes, that's an unfortunate business. The investigation is closed on the first lad; wandered into the forest and met with some bad end, although we have not uncovered any definitive remains. The second disappearance is therefore an unfortunate coincidence, coming so close on the heels of the first.
"The second disappearance may indeed have been foul play. An immediate investigation led by me determined that a local man named Oleg Korskin was recently seen in company with the lad, just before the disappearance. We are waiting on a judge's writ to search Korskin's residence for evidence and to take him into custody. I expect to receive this soon; would you like to accompany us in serving it? If not, I expect that a final report can quickly be made ready for you, once we serve the writ. I think you'll find we're a very efficient Watch force, despite our provincial location."
There's something indefinable about the man that you find vaguely repellent, but you can't quite put your finger on it.
Kolmac readily falls into practiced if slightly rusty sales routine. "Well, my family has operated one of Northwind's finest distilleries for generations, right on the banks of Turner's Brook. That there is our regional specialty, gin--it's derived from juniper and some other flavorings, depending on the batch. This particular bottle is best drunk on its own, but it can also make for some excellent cocktails. If you like, I'm sure I could arrange for more to be sent south--it could make an excellent addition to your selection at this fine establishment. You obviously have excellent taste in spirits." He tips his glass of whisky towards the baron in acknowledgment and downs the remainder of it.
"If you like, I'm sure I could arrange for more to be sent south--it could make an excellent addition to your selection at this fine establishment."
Baron Garstang signals a crony over, speaks briefly. In a moment the head bartender comes to the booth. The baron hands him the gin bottle and announces, "Take very good care of this. No one drinks it except me. Moving forward, please arrange for this gin to be stocked at all times; Mr. Kolmac can help with the arrangements." He then turns his attention back to you and Eshkeval.
Dair smiles at the offered hand, which he readily shakes in return. "I'll gladly accompany you as you serve the writ and aid in searching Mr Korskin's home." The young man readily agrees.
Eshkeval is enraptured by his current portrait of the Baron, and is blind to all else while he attempts to finish his work. His other sketches of fancy houses lay strewn about him as he toils away.
Baron Garstang fails to notice Eshkeval's sketches, possibly as a consequence of the sheer quantity of alcohol and pipeweed he has ingested. However, his eyes still seem clear and his speech is in no way impaired -- his tolerance would seem to be considerable.