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Gronkh is surprised to realize that he hasn't spent all of his last paycheck from the Society and is pleased to purchase a caparison for Horace. If nothing else, it will be a nice keepsake to remind me of the time when I became a tax collector!
"So the last visitor weren't so charmin'? I wonder why... what brought 'im here dya think? And where'd 'e leave off to?"
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The matron at the general store fills a pouch of tobacco for Golthwur. "And how much flayleaf will ye be wantin' wi' that, sir?"
"Well, I suppose a little flayleaf couldn't hurt." Golthwur replies quietly, emptying a small sack of fifty gold coins upon the counter. Noticing the acute ears of his companion, he quickly adds, in a tone of greater volume, "For use as potentially potent components in my arcane studies of course! As well as for...medicinal purposes."
"Now, as for the tobacco..." he reaches for another gold coin and places it on the counter, hesitantly leaving a single finger upon it. "I wonder," he says, turning towards Byron. "Do you think that I could, perhaps, somehow convince one of our companions to carry two pounds of tobacco for me?" Not quite, waiting for a response, Golthwur strokes a few long, wiry strands of his beard. He mentally takes stock of each of his traveling companions, systematically ruling out each one as a potential courier until he recalls the introduction that he had received from one of the nagaji at the beginning of their journey.
"Ah, yes!" he declares. "There was that one of the scaled-folk! He'll do just fine. Clearly he is strong and none too bright!"
"Yes!" Golthwur concludes, passing the coin over to the woman, and removing his finger in exchange for the full two pounds of tobacco. "He will serve adequately as a utility-man!!"
The wizard hastily retrieves his goods, not without some strain due to their heft, and then makes his way to the door--eager to put his newly-formed plan into action. "Now, what did the scaled-one say his name was again?"
"Oh, I dunno what 'e wanted, 'e wasn' here fer long." the crone answers Gronkh.
You make your way northwards towards the festival grounds. On your right as you travel you see a set of cairns and standing stones. This large ring of black river stones and tall, stacked rock columns encompasses an open-air amphitheater built against a steeply sloped sandstone outcropping. Stone benches sit nearby, while a misshapen wicker and corn-husk figure with mossy canvas wings looms over an altar stone at the far side.
At the Festival Grounds a large field here has been fenced off, creating an area where tents, benches, and tables have been set out for today’s festival and celebration. Unlit piles of wood for bonfires stand around the field’s perimeter, and an open space in the centre is cleared and ringed with benches for the festival’s games and competitions.
It looks like it'll be a few hours before everything is properly set up and ready.
Amongst the preparations, you see a bonfire being built; bales of hay set out at measured distances; several animal pens; a large circle marked out by raised dirt, and a circular track with six lanes delineated by hemp rope laid on the ground. Gronkh supposes that this track might be for some sort of race, but the lanes are much too narrow for horses.
"Festival dun't start proper till three, strangers" says a helpful villager.
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Golthwur arrives a little later to the grounds, his speed weighed down with recent purchases. As the old man struggles to drag a sack of his belongings with him, he approaches, Yagajimoro Iodoma.
"You there!" cries out the old man, making no effort to recall the Pathfinder's name. "Why don't you make a use for yourself and come carry these things for me?"
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"Hi there. I am Yagajimoro Iodoma, servant of Iomedae. You may call me Yagaji." He offers a friendly bow, furrows his brow for a moment, then smiles beatifically. He picks up the old man and his belongings and starts to follow the others on the way to finding the mayor. Of course, he now is also carrying a medium load, and struggles to keep up, but he whistles a jaunty tune while carrying this burden of a wizard.
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"No, you serpentine simpleton!" Golthwur cries out as he is lifted off the ground by the nagaji's strong arms. "You were to carry only my belongings, not my self.".
The bearded man struggles to free himself, but his strained efforts are to no effect other than to knock loose his pointed hat.
"My highly-honored headgear!" he screams woefully as the hat exceeds the reach of his grasp. Balling his fingers into deeply-clenched, wiry fists and begins to pound on the nagaji's scales. "You! You! Whatever your name is!" the old man screams as his ineffectual fists begin to ache from striking against ungiving scales. "PUT ME DOWN THIS INSTANT!"
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Yagaji lunges out and manages to catch the falling hat...accidentally dropping the wizard in the process. In his over excited state, he accidentally shreds the hat.
"Sorry. Sorry! My ma always said I get a little too...overenthusiastic when I try to help someone out. Here ya go." He places tattered remnants of the hat back on the wizard's head and helps him up.
"I'll carry whatever you want, Master Wizard. Till the ends of Golarion...and beyond." He smiles brightly holding out a helpful hand, awaiting whatever Gwolthur would like him to carry.
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The wizard strikes the ground with a sad thud, Fuming, but well aware that he is being watched, Golthwur swallows a lengthy string of explicatives and slowly makes his way back to his feet.
With a steaming glare and clenched teeth, Golthwur slowly extends a hand to retrieve his now tattered hat, swiftly snatching out if the nagaji's hand like a toddler seizing a favored toy from another.
Examining the remnants of his hat, the wizard moans and huffs as wrinkly fingers extend and wiggle through tattered threads. He then closes his eyes and exudes lengthy sigh for holding the head in one hand and gesturing with the other. With the addition of some arcane syllables, the tears of the hat begin to seemingly stitch themselves together in the stains from dirt and sweat appear to evaporate away from the hat.
"There!"" Golthwur declares. Though the man that had been clearly deflated by the incident, his tone now is loud and confident as it had been before. Bluster Now quickly returns to the old man's demeanor even as the hat once again appears to return to it's former splendor. "A simple prestidigitation spell was all that was necessary to address the dullard's damage. For, the repairing of even the most carelessly regarded headgear is a simple matter for one such as I, Golthwur Strath, Clothier of Conjury and Tailor of Transmutation!"
Placing the hat, now restored to its conical shape, once more upright and towering upon his balding head, Golthwur smuggly announces, "Behold! My hat is as good a new!"
Just, then, as if on cue, the topmost tip of the hat begins to slowly descend, it's form and motion hopefully resembling that they rapidly wilting plant. It continues to fall until the tip of the hat comes to rest squarely upon the tip of the wizard's pointed nose. Golthwur hastily extends his lower and begins to blow air upwards with a series of puffs in a fruitless effort to dislodge a tip from his nose and to somehow coax it back to its original home high above his head.
It's not difficult to find the Mayor's house - it's the only two-story building except for the ruined church. The locals point it out to you.
This clapboard, saltbox-style house is the largest home in town. Built on a barren hill, the building has a two-story facade that slopes down to a single-story rear with the large, protruding chimney of a centrally placed hearth. The house seems inviting, and much better maintained than Ravenmoor’s other buildings.
As you approach the manor a young man outside the house leaves off his groundswork and challenges you: "What do you want, strangers? Mayor's busy. Begone."
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As you approach the manor a young man outside the house leaves off his groundswork and challenges you: "What do you want, strangers? Mayor's busy. Begone."
"Strangers!?!" Golthwur responds indignantly. He quickly looks around at his companions as if to see how they respond. Upon laying eyes on them, he calms down considerably and concedes, "Well, I suppose 'strange' is a rather apt description for the lot."
After the nagaji speaks, Golthwur decides that it is indeed time to interject. "What my traveling cohort...this one... is trying to say," announces Golthwur as he points to Yagajimoro, clearly struggling to come up with a name that he associates with the Pathfinder, "is that it is important that I find the mayor. Tell him that I, Golthwur Strath, Sorcerer of Celebrity and Prestidigitator of Prestige, wish to have a word with him!"
"I don't care if you're King Gold T#@*, the Mayor's busy and you can move on!" the groundskeeper brandishes the sickle he's been using to trim the hedges and glowers at you.
Just as you think he might try to rush you, the door of the manor house opens. A tall lean man with a severe bearing steps out. "Leonard! That's enough of that! Treat our guests with more respect!" The groundskeeper grumbles under his breath, and returns his attention to the hedges.
"I am sorry for my little brother's rudeness" says the tall man. "I am Andretti Kriegler, Mayor of Ravenmoor. Welcome to our town!" The Mayor opens his arms towards you and smiles warmly. "I was just heading over to the Festival grounds to see how the preparations are going. Are you here for the Festival? We don't exactly receive many tourists here, being so out of the way. Please, do me the pleasure of walking with me, and perhaps tell me a little about yourselves."
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Angela watches the ensuing debacle between Yagajimoro and Golthwur, with thinly veiled amusement, but decides to not intervene lest she make things worse. She does approach the wizard afterwards. "Golthwur, you seem to be having some trouble with your hat there. Here, if you let me look at it, i can probably make some mundane way to get it to stand up straight."
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With the angry grounds keeper, Angela bristles slightly, before putting on a clam face and stating. "We are here on business from Magnimar, the city you've sworn fealty to and who will provide assistance in case something terrible were to happen. Not allowing us to see him, at sometime he is not busy if need be, you would be risking losing that support..."
She doesn't get to finish the speech before the mayor appears and verbally trims the groundskeeper like one of the hedges. Angela gives a bow to the amiable man introducing herself. "I am Angela Isafira, a secretary of the Pathfinder Society. My companions, I will let them introduce themselves, and I have been asked by a very talented young clerk at the tax offices in Magnimar to follow up on her brother-in-law Elias Kyle, supposedly the red-haired stranger of last feast day, and the back taxes he was supposed to collect or inform you of. I am correct in assuming he told you about them? This is hopefully not too much of a surprise."
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"Hi there. I am Yagajimoro Iodoma, servant of Iomedae. You may call be Yagaji." He offers a deep bow of respect, along with his brightest smile. "As my good halfling has said, we seek the red-haired gentleman, sent here for ...the stuff that she was referring to. Have you seen him? We would be most grateful for any assistance you could provide."
Noticing Gwolthur's hat, Yagaji has a rare moment of clarity. "If you have anything that needs to be carried to the festival grounds, I'd be happy to lend a hand."
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"Golthwur, you seem to be having some trouble with your hat there. Here, if you let me look at it, i can probably make some mundane way to get it to stand up straight."
At the mention of some mundane solution, Golthwur glares with great annoyance. "There is no mundane solution upon which magic cannot improve!" he scolds the halfling, making certain she is aware of the disgust within his voice before storming off away from the woman. As he walks away, he can be heard muttering to himself, "Make my hat 'stand up straight'?! Is it not obvious to her that I'm married to my work?! A mage of my status and import does not have time for such...such... dalliances!"
Meanwhile, his hat continues to droop.
"I was just heading over to the Festival grounds to see how the preparations are going. Are you here for the Festival? We don't exactly receive many tourists here, being so out of the way..."
"Methinks that it is because of more than simply that." mutters Golthwur. Though he speaks quietly, he makes no further effort to hide his disdain for the town.
"If you have anything that needs to be carried to the festival grounds, I'd be happy to lend a hand."
"I'd be cautious, if I were you." Golthwur says by way of warning to the mayor. "This...this..." stutters the wizard, unsure of what to call the nagaji. "This... slippery-scaled servant can be rather clumsy." The mage subconsciously rubs his backside with hands sporting still-bruised knuckles at the memory of the fall.
When asked to introduce himself, the wizard pauses for a moment to remove his hat and place it briefly on the ground before then engaging in a brief recitation of an incantation and moving his hands in a series of mysterious gestures. Within seconds, the tip of the wilted hat begins to rise, restoring the head-covering to its full height and conical shape. As the magician moves his hand, the hat rises into the air, just above the height of the mage, and then moves seemingly by itself toward Golthwur's head where, after a few failed attempts managed by raising and lowering, it finally comes to rest squarely upon his balding scalp.
"Before you is the one and only Golthwur Strath, Minister of Mages and Potentate of Power!" announces the wizard as if no further introduction were necessary.
The Mayor nods in acknowledgement at your introductions and polite bows. "Ah, if you enjoyed the smoked stirge, Byron, wait till you taste the blood sausage! It's a speciality here."
"Did you say that you are here about Elias Kyle? The tax collector?" Mayor Kriegler frowns and purses his lips. "I know precisely who you mean." He gives a heavy sigh. "We hadn't paid taxes for some time, I am sorry to say. Had Magnimar bothered to send yearly collectors like it had in the past, this unfortunate situation would have never happened. Kyle came into town around a month ago, and wasted no time making a fool of himself—ordering townsfolk around and making unreasonable demands when he should have just come to me. Once he did approach me, I assured him that we would pay the taxes in full, but of course I needed a bit of time to scrape the funds together as we were not prepared for the demand. I invited Kyle to stay in my manor and enjoy the festival, but Kyle cried off. He was quite insulting, called us 'backwoods hootenannies.' He still took me up on my offer of board, though, and went to bed early. The next morning, I paid Kyle the taxes in a locked coffer, and the man left town just before dawn, presumably heading back to Magnimar."
Mayor Kriegler looks to you. "Was there a problem with the payment? Some sort of miscalculation?"
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Angela stops for a second and pinches the bridge of her nose with a sigh and silently counts backwards from ten. She gives the mayor a wane smile, commenting "Well that's a right mess. Elias never showed up in Magnimar with the taxes. Don't worry, the city won't hold you accountable immediately and if we can find Elias and the coffer then we should be fine."
She mentally starts to check off a list going through things as they'd been brought up in order. "First, the tax collectors have not been visiting because of a clerical error that overlooked Ravenmoor. From now on, assuming the error does not happen again, you can probably expect a tax man regularly."
"Second, I apologize that Elias was rude and inconsiderate. I will be sure to include it in the correspondence we send back to Magnimar."
"Finally, had Elias been drinking at any point during his visit?"
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Golthwur listens intently to the mayor, concluding that this, Kyle, appears to have had enough sense to come to many of the same conclusions regarding the town that he has. Although instead of "backwoods hootenannies", he would have chosen the label, "crude cretins". The fact that the mayor seems woefully unaware of the numerous shortcomings of his own town gives Golthwur reason to be suspicious of the man.
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Yagaji eyes the bend of Golthwur's hat, wondering if there's any way he could help straighten it. He really didn't mean to ruin it. At the mention of "drinking," his attention returns to the conversation.
"Indeed, did he find any drinking mates while he visited? Perhaps we could speak with them as well?"
His attention returns to the hat, and his hand twitches a little at the thought of pulling it straight.
"Thankyou Angela" says the Mayor. "I have to admit, we would struggle to find the means to pay the back taxes twice over" he frowns, the looks from Angela to Yagaji and back again.
"Curious that you mention drink. When I returned home from last month's feast, I caught Kyle raiding my liquor cabinet. He was already half-cut and wholly unashamed of his actions. I gathered the tax funds at once and sent Kyle on his way. So, no 'drinking buddies' here, good Yagaji."
Mayor Kriegler shakes his head sadly and adds: “Honestly, I’m not surprised to learn that he never returned to Magnimar. I’ve heard rumours that he lit out for Riddleport, in which case I fear the taxes are as good as gone. But the fact apparently remains that we still owe a payment. You strike me as much more trustworthy agents, frankly. I’ll extend to you the same offer I extended to Elias Kyle, though—enjoy the festival and tonight’s feast, stay in my home, and I’ll see what I can scrape together from what remains of the town’s funds to pay at least part of what we owe. Perhaps at a later date Magnimar might send you north to Riddleport to find out what became of that scoundrel.”
"Well, I quite agree" the Mayor affirms.
"Leonard, let these good people in to the house and point them to the guest bedrooms whenever they should ask." Mayor Kriegler instructs his brother. "I need to finish overseeing the Festival preparations and see what funds I can identify. I hope I shall see you all at the Festival later!"
The Mayor bows slightly and makes his way towards the festival fields.
Leonard shows you into the manor.
The front door leads directly into a cosy and inviting living room. A large fireplace dominates the room, warming simple but well-made couches and chairs. A small tabletop shrine contains a large candle, strips of dried flayleaf, and several heavily charred Desna effigies woven from the flayleaf strips.
"Guest rooms are upstairs. Follow me." says Leonard, who sulks fiercely. He leads you to the upper balcony, which overlooks a smaller sitting room dominated by a bookshelf much too big for the meagre selection of two dozen books it holds.
As you mount the stairs you see that the manor’s double-sided fireplace also serves a large kitchen. A heavy pot with a thick sludge of boiled vegetable matter and a single bowl and spoon are the only items to have seen recent use; the other pans and utensils carry a thin coating of dust.
The stairs ascend from the kitchen to the balcony level, which opens into a wide hallway lined with six identical wooden doors. Each guest room behind these doors is starkly appointed with a single framed bed covered in a thin quilt. A wooden washbasin rests against the wall near a pitcher of smelly water. The rooms have windows that look out past the estate toward the Lampblack. None of the guest room doors have locks.
"Don't go wanderin' where you ought not. I'll be close-by." Leonard warns you as he descends the stairs again, leaving you to your quarters.
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"Leonard!" snaps Golthwur. "Please carry my belongings to my room." As he speaks, he gives a glance over towards one of the nagaji.
"As for heading to the festival, I believe the event is still a few hours away." notes Golthwur. "And, you should know, that a wizard is never early. Nor late!"
He strokes his beard, deep in thought as to his next words. He then gestures, as if about to pronounce some ancient, arcane edict and declares, "Instead, he arrives precisely when he means to!"
With the lapse in his concentration, the duration of his mage hand spell abruptly ends, causing the tip of his hat to once again droop down in front of his face.
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Angela follows the belligerent man into the manor, and cocks an eye over the single bowl and spoon, but says nothing. She does however give Galthwur a hard glance and comment. "You know for such a mighty wizard, you do seem to rely on mundane means to get your luggage around. Also this is not a hotel and you should not force Leonard to carry your luggage. I mean he could drop it or lose things."
Once she gets to the room, the small halfling takes a whiff of the water and heads back down with the pitcher to wash it out and find some fresh water. She also tries to take a good look around, thinking the pitcher might be a good excuse for 'getting lost.'
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"You know for such a mighty wizard, you do seem to rely on mundane means to get your luggage around. Also this is not a hotel and you should not force Leonard to carry your luggage. I mean he could drop it or lose things."
"My dear," Golthwur begins. Despite his choice of words, the old man's tone is devoid of any effort to garner either endearment or respect.
"Are not mundane tasks most fitting for mundane persons?" he callously continues. "And do you not think that, if for a moment, I believed that this scrap of a town had for sale a single wand of unseen servant or even a scroll of the same that I, Golthwur Strath, Warden of Wands and Sovereign of Scrolls, would not have made every effort to acquire it rather than deign to rely upon the ineffective aid of those lacking knowledge in the mystic arts?"
"Now," the blowhard announces, dismissively, in an effort to avoid any further lashings by the halfling's sharp tongue, "I shall be heading to my room." The man stamps his foot and crosses his arms in a huff, before storming off, not realizing that his pouting motions had dislodged his hat, causing it to plop to the ground.
A few moments later, some whispered syllables are heard and a wrinkled hand can be seen reaching out through the entryway of another room beckoning to the hat, which slowly rises off the ground and heads toward the senescent set of fingers.
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Whether choosing to ignore the nagaji's comments, or else simply unable to hear them to do the advancement of old age, the "funniest man" places his flaccid hat upon his head and casts detect magic before heading to his assigned room. Along the way, he looks for any auras that may indicate that this place is anything more than a mundane mansion.
Leonard looks over his shoulder as he departs, and sneers at Golthwur's demand. The groundskeeper leaves the manor via the front door.
Angela carries her pitcher of stale water back downstairs as a pretence for having a snoop around. In the kitchen Angela spots several bottles of 4712 Galdurian Red in a wine rack.
Golthwur scans with a Detect Magic spell, but senses no magic auras other than those of the few magic items carried by the pathfinders.
Yagaji locates the liquor cabinet in the parlour. The cabinet is well-stocked. The comfortable room contains richer appointments than the rest of the home, from velvet cushions to the elaborately carved legs of the table and chairs. A large oil painting of Iola Kriegler dominates a single wall—a plaque on the frame identifies her name and role in the village’s history. The village’s founder is depicted with mothlike wings that spread over her two druidic advisors in the foreground.
Jeskit flops down on his bed - and makes a discovery. A scrap of paper is stuffed into a slit in the mattress where the bed is pushed against the wall. One side of the paper contains an order from the city of Magnimar for the collection of 500gp in back taxes from Ravenmoor, while on the other is a crude map of Ravenmoor with several buildings circled— the trading post, the weaver, the ferry, and Kriegler Manor.
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Golthwur sighs as Leonard departs. Forced to carry his own belongings, he decides to ferry his items via mage hand from the bottom of the steps, up to the top, in five-pound increments. Once all of his items are at the top of the steps, Golthwur approaches his room and enters.
Lying down, he directs the items into the room, again in increments, via magic. He casts detect magic a final time within his room, before preparing to nod off.
"You certainly deserve some rest after all that work." he mutters to himself. "After all, are you not, Golthwur Strath, King of Conveying and Lord of Lifting?"