Shakur walks out, centering himself as he does. "So. I've secured our room here on one condition. The madman out here claiming a witch or something is coming, we gotta get him to leave. Let's hear him out, see if taking his word seriously is enough to get him to move. Otherwise, I think we may have to, uhh, intimidate him out of here." Shakur throws a glance to Urzok and his newly-displayed set of weapons. "You've got enough steel there to scare just about anything."
Shakur coughs it up. All of it. Before Boodiddly can intervene.
”The witch comes for us all!”
As if on cue, the sound of chaotic ravings echo from right outside the Silver Wagon. The familiar sight of a ragged man wearing a signboard comes into the amnesiacs’ sights. The man’s bearded face contains many large splotches of dark skin. He shouts to the now-diminishing flock of people filing into and out of the Silver Wagon. Few passersby seem to listen to the doomsayer, but enough listen—whether with rolled eyes or shocked faces—to encourage his continued ravings.
”The Thrushmoor Vanishing is upon us once again! The Briarstone Witch lurks among us, snatching our wives and children in the night! Doom shall fall upon Thrushmoor!”
”Shut the f*ck up, ya bum!”
“Ignorant fool! Your complacency will mark your end! The Watcher in the Bay stirs once more, summoned by its master to collect mindless sheep such as you for whatever nefarious reasons the witch has! Open your eyes, sheeple! This is the end of days for this town! Flee! Flee from accursed Thrushmoor with your lives while you still have them!”
The man’s ramblings continue in such a fashion.
Jevar leans over to Shakur and whispers.
Do you think you could get him to believe you're the Thrushmoor witch? Tell him you're here for his soul and you'll drink it through his open wounds. That should do the trick.
"Tempting, but let's try something a bit more subtle first."
Shakur approaches the man. "Good sir, keep it down! The witch could hear you! Do you want to be next? Please, I'm very interested in your tale, may we sit and have a chat about this witch? I'd be very interested to--" Shakur stops and cringes for a bit. "Wait. I've recently disappeared myself for a bit. Are...are we why you're talking of a witch? Do you know how the asylum? Or where this witch might be?"
Boodiddly's eyes grow wide as Shakur pays the entire debt, and he pauses a moment as the priest leaves the inn. "Um, that's not exactly fair to have him make all the amends," he says quickly. "Can I... um... oh! I need to find a bow for this violin, but once I do I can perform here at the inn! It might help bring in some more customers - and any money earned would go towards repaying the rest of the debt." He glances back at the closing door. "Uh, think about it and let me know - gotta go!" he finishes quickly before darting to rejoin his friends.
Outside, the gnome listens to the madman carefully. He's really passionate about his warnings. Some folks would just get sullen and melancholy after being ignored and rejected so much. What drives him to continue?
"Uh, sir?" he asks gently, stepping around Shakur's larger form. "What happened to you? Did the witch steal your spouse and children? You must care a lot about the city to stay here instead of taking your own advice and fleeing to safety."
Urzok grins at Shakur's observation, but otherwise stands with his arms crossed while they speak to the doomsayer. And to think, we were the ones taken to the asylum! After what we've been through though... I can't help but think it is worth talking to him about what he knows, or at least thinks he does.
With little time to react, the innkeeper merely gives the fleeing amnesiacs the stinkeye.
Shakur approaches the man. "Good sir, keep it down! The witch could hear you! Do you want to be next?
The ragged man whips around and shouts, interrupting the Pharasmin.
”That damned woman can hear us already! The Watcher in the Bay is always watching! We are already doomed; what is a bit of a ruckus?!”
"Uh, sir?" he asks gently, stepping around Shakur's larger form. "What happened to you? Did the witch steal your spouse and children? You must care a lot about the city to stay here instead of taking your own advice and fleeing to safety."
A wide smile of yellowed teeth (a number of which missing) spreads across the doomsayer’s visage. ”I am a mere urchin whose eyes have been opened to the truth! My life has no purpose beyond assisting this flock of sheep to realization at this point! You ask the wrong questions, my fully-bearded boy. It is not ‘what,’ but ‘why.’ Why now?! Why does the witch threaten Thrushmoor now?! That magistrate!”
The man suddenly leaps upon his soapbox (when did he get a soapbox) as a small crowd gathers around him, despite the lateness of the day.
”That magistrate summoned the Briarstone Witch from her slumber to sweep the citizens of Thrushmoor into the depths of the Encarthan and fled from town! He and his vainglorious sycophants will return when the witch has brought the second vanishing and seize the town and rule! But I will not allow that man to touch my precious beetles! Flee! Flee from this town just as his majesty has!”
”I mean, Padgett did just up and leave...”
”And what of all that graffiti?”
”I haven’t heard from my husband in four days...you don’t think the witch...?”
Beetles....?!
Jevar scratches his head and nudges Oreb to go scan the dirty man for beetles.
She flutters over to him, staying just out of crazy-stink-reach.
He's gaining traction. This isn't good. I know a forming mob when I'm in one.Urzok gets collective attention of his allies. "Now would be a good time to stop him, the crowd is starting to buy in to what he is saying," he suggests. And this is our problem because of one night at a bar a year ago and a hefty dose of guilt.
He sighs.
________
He's gaining traction. This isn't good. I know a forming mob when I'm in one.Urzok gets collective attention of his allies. "Now would be a good time to stop him, the crowd is starting to buy in to what he is saying," he suggests. And this is our problem because of one night at a bar a year ago and a hefty dose of guilt.
He sighs.
________
[dice=Perception, DC 15]1d20+9
She flutters over to him, staying just out of crazy-stink-reach.
[dice=Perception, beetles?]1d20+8
Oreb sees nothing remotely resembling a beetle on the doomsayer’s person.
Jevar nudges Skakur and whispers.
So, maybe we shouldn't entertain his ravings out in the open. Do you think we could coax him to walk with us? Maybe to the docks.
”Why do you think it was the magistrate?” Boodiddly asks curiously. ”You’ve suggested plenty of motives - though their legitimacy is certainly still in question - but no means nor method for him to have done so. Is this perhaps just a personal vendetta against the magistrate?”
”Why do you think it was the magistrate?” Boodiddly asks curiously. ”You’ve suggested plenty of motives - though their legitimacy is certainly still in question - but no means nor method for him to have done so. Is this perhaps just a personal vendetta against the magistrate?”
”Why else would he run away in the middle of the night?! Why else would the fort be shut closed?! The witch has returned, and that magistrate—”
Mid-raving, the doomsayer looks toward the sky and his attitude completely changes.
”Oh man, is it that late already?”
With that, the ragged man turns heel and begins to walk away. The gathering crowd seems to come to the same revelation and likewise begins to disperse.
Confused, Boodiddly also looks upward. Is it that late already? he wonders. "Um, should we follow him?" he asks his companions quietly. "Just to see where he goes? That certainly was a quick change of personality there..."
Jevar scratches his chin and frowns. Hmm... I'm guessing she wanted you to get rid of him more permanently. I suspect he'll be back on his own schedule. So yeah, we should follow, and think of a solution that sticks... like stink on a fish.
The wizard looks back towards the bay and wonders. Hmm, planting a freshly killed fish on his person could do the trick to keep the crowds from forming...
Urzok shrugs. "Whatever'll put our little troublemakers' conscious at ease," he says with a smirk. "As far as I see it, the Gnome and the Elf are leading the way here and the Human and I are helping." A dagger would shut him up permanently, but that'd be a little cold. Don't think the Elf and Gnome have it in them to jump to that though.
I guess we could also take him back to the boat that ferried us across and... ship him off to Briarstone?
He looks to Boodiddly and Shakur who's made the arrangement with the innkeeper.
What do you think? Let's tail him and think of something.
He motions for the group to follow the crank from a short distance behind.
The amnesiacs begin tailing the doomsayer through the swiftly-emptying streets of Thrushmoor. At one point, Shakur lets out a loud sneeze that ends up attracting the doomsayer’s attention. He approaches the men tailing him with a slightly worried look on his face.
”You lot really oughta get home; not to smart loitering outside in the late hours, and I’d know.”
"You'd....What happens at night here? The witch? Hmm?" Shakur rolls his eyes. "What makes you so safe elsewhere? If I were you, I'd get out of here. If that witch is here, she's definitely itching to get ahold of you."
Jevar mumbles, but fully audibly to all present. I'd... kind of like to meet her. I mean, we've dealt with worse.
Urzok fires off a look at the doomsayer, as though to say And if the witch doesn't, we're going to!
In the dimming light, the shadows cast by the Orc's physique are particularly daunting.
________
The doomsayer looks swiftly between Shakur and Urzok for several seconds as he lets out a nervous chuckle.
”You know, now that you mention it, I just realized that I have something that I need to do at my…uh…not here.”
Without another word, the doomsayer books it down the nearest alleyway and turns the corner, out of sight.
*
Dena reluctantly greets the amnesiacs once again and listens to their recounting of the doomsayer’s retreat and she reluctantly admits them into a room on the second floor.
*
*
*
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The abrupt banging clearly wakes the amnesiacs from a surprisingly restful sleep. The sound of a key turning punctuates the door to their room bursting open as Dena Gallegos stomps into the amnesiacs’ room.
”What in the nine hells do ya think ya’re pulling?!”
Before the men can comprehend the innkeeper’s words, she marches over to the room’s window and throws it open.
”Flee you fools!”
The amnesiacs all crowd at the open window—Boodiddly having to climb onto the half-orc’s shoulders to get a decent view—as they see the doomsayer right outside of the Silver Wagon upon his soapbox, a small crowd gathered around him.
”I thought ya said ya took care o’ him!”
The doomsayer points to a building on the next street over—the side of the building has been coated in a gloomy, sooty mural of a vast and empty cityscape. An elf stands next to the mural with a bucket of water and a sponge as he desperately washes at the clearly unwanted graffiti.
”You have all seen the signs! The Briarstone Witch marks her prey for the hunt! Flee, my elven friend, flee!”
The doomsayer quickly looks up to look at the amnesiacs crowding at the window and he points to them.
”Behold the agents of the witch, come to mark people for the second vanishing! I have seen their dastardly deeds with my own eyes—“
Dena groans as she shuts the window. She turns back to the amnesiacs with sheer rage in her eyes as she points at each of them one at a time. ”Take care o’ him, or ya’re out! Do I make myself clear?!”
Without waiting for an answer, Dena stomps out of the amnesiacs’ room.
Shakur rubs his eyes tiredly before getting utterly furious. "I'm gonna kill him. He'll get a proper burial and everything, but I'M GOING TO KILL HIM!"
Shakur centers himself and begins prepping his spells. Each sound echoing through the window from that beggar annoys him more and more until he can't take it anymore.
Shakur bursts his window open. "You should really listen when people tell you to SCRAM! I just want to be back in the town I know in a place I feel safe! BUT NOOOOOO! You've gotta come here and spout all your nonsense about a witch, as if it wasn't Lowls himself that somehow put me in that blasted asylum!"
Shakur shrinks, noticing the crowd he just gathered before closing the window and turning to Boodiddly. "Listen man. I'm NOT in a good mood. I got the tab! You get the man!"
The doomsayer yips in fright as he swiftly grabs his soapbox and hightails it down the nearest alley.
Jevar watches is half-asleep amusement as this all unfolds out of the window.
He looks to Boodiddly to offer, Um... should we get ready and come down with you to help? I think this bloke is coming back so we still have some serious scaring to do. I still say we try to get him on the boat to Briarstone soon...
Jevar will prepare Unseen Servant in place of magic missile, perhaps to mess with the doomsayer later on.
"We spooked him once and he came back, I say we look towards a more permanent solution, unless we'd rather find another place to stay," Urzok grumbles.
Waving everyone in close, he continues. "Woke up last night to damn buzzing in my ear, then I realized it was whispers. Sounded close, but I noticed the window was open and there were a bunch of people outside. They scattered when they saw me, but we might want to consider setting a watch," he shares. "Seeing that charcoal s&&! on the walls is what they must have been doing, we should go take a look at it before it gets washed away!"
"First things first, I never got to buy my sword. Let's take a trip to the smiths while we figure out just how badly we want to sleep in these beds instead of finding something at the Stain."
________
Well, I don’t know what they expected, Boodiddly thinks to himself as he hops down the stairs. They took the fast solution, and it’s just as quick to un-solve itself.
”Urzok, did you say the graffiti wasn’t there when you woke up?” he asks as he rolls up his sleeves. ”Perhaps we have some young fools taking advantage of a madman’s ravings to amuse themselves by scaring their neighbors.” Whistling a happy tune as he walks outside, the gnome grabs a discarded rag and starts scrubbing one of the lower parts of the mural. ”This sort of thing happen often?” he asks the elf cheerfully.
”This sort of thing happen often?” he asks the elf cheerfully.
”Hmph. You tell me.” The elf motions to several buildings scattered about the next several blocks that have smudges of black and yellow soot that has been mostly washed from the sides of the buildings. The elf wrings the blackened rag and returns to washing the mural of the dreary cityscape below a yellow sky. ”Damn half-elf screwing with all of us in the in town…”
Jevar sights heavily. So, in addition to dealing with the madman we need to keep a watch and night and deal with some damn kids literally painting the town. This is really going to cut into my formula book and spellbook work...
He looks incredulous and irritated. His ears perk up at the last bit.
Wait, half-elf...?
Shakur stays out of sight. Is, is he referring to me with half-elf? Is it that obvious? I thought I'd...
”Yeah, some half-elf painter moved in on the other side of town; only one with the skill to do something like this. With all the vandalism he’s been doing, I wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up in Hailcourse in the next day or so—you know, if Hailcourse wasn’t closed.”
Jevar leans forward, puts his hand on his chin and acts genuinely interested.
Hmm, tell me about this Hailcourse, if you don't mind.
Jevar leans forward, puts his hand on his chin and acts genuinely interested.
Hmm, tell me about this Hailcourse, if you don't mind.
The elf’s face twists in confusion as his solid green eyes stare at Jevar, he then rolls his eyes (you think) and shakes his head. ”Tourists.
“Even after people started disappearing overnight, the militia at Fort Hailcourse refused to help.” The elf points toward a stone fortress sitting at the top of a hill a few hundred feet away. ”The magistrate apparently left for whatever reason and a bunch of the militia called it quits after they weren’t paid enough, so the constable said that they can’t afford the manpower for a night patrol. And now I’ve gotta deal with this,” He slops a wet rag onto the mural on the side of his place of business. ”It’s been insanity for these past few…weeks? Gods, has it only been a few weeks? The folks at Iris Hill has been doing squat, so at least that hasn’t changed…”
"Where does this Elf live? We should pay him a visit, we've seen this before, unfortunately," Urzok asks. And the last time we did, we had to deal with the bloody Tatterman. Can't have another one of those walking the streets.
I would like Thrushmoor lore checks on all of the proper nouns there. Bonus is only +6, though.
"Where does this Elf live? We should pay him a visit, we've seen this before, unfortunately," Urzok asks. And the last time we did, we had to deal with the bloody Tatterman. Can't have another one of those walking the streets.
”The other side of town; I don’t know. Somewhere by New Chapel, I think.”
We should probably pay this painter a visit.
"Time to take a trip then, but to the smith's first!" Urzok presses. Then the Human can move those runes over, that'll make for a fine day. What's an Orc without a great weapon?
________
Boodiddly likewise wrings out his rag before continuing to scrub at the mural. "I'm Boodiddly," he says, still cheerful as he works. "Who are you? Is this your shop? What do you sell? Is this the first time this has happened to you?" he asks, pausing a moment to shake out his arms. "Or do these murals only seem to show up on certain people's houses?" As he works more on the lower parts of the cityscape, he frowns at a thought. "The man with the box of soap - he said this was the mark of a witch. Is that just him rambling, or does it actually seem connected to the people you said are missing?" The gnome keeps doggedly working until the vandalism is cleaned up.
"You can head off to the smith. I'm not feeling up for much today. Damned doomsayer's really making things more complicated than we need. I do agree with Jevar, though. I think it's time we give this painter a visit." Shakur sulks back into the inn, tells the keeper that he's a useless piece of garbage because he can't take care of one man, and sits in a corner, obviously having a terrible day.
Boodiddly likewise wrings out his rag before continuing to scrub at the mural. "I'm Boodiddly," he says, still cheerful as he works. "Who are you? Is this your shop? What do you sell? Is this the first time this has happened to you?" he asks, pausing a moment to shake out his arms. "Or do these murals only seem to show up on certain people's houses?" As he works more on the lower parts of the cityscape, he frowns at a thought. "The man with the box of soap - he said this was the mark of a witch. Is that just him rambling, or does it actually seem connected to the people you said are missing?" The gnome keeps doggedly working until the vandalism is cleaned up.
[dice=Diplomacy to Make a Request (if needed)]d20+10
”Adrian. I’m actually the whitesmith in these parts. As for the loon, as insane as his ramblings are, they aren’t completely wrong. Wherever these murals appear folks go missing. And that’s not even mentioning everything else going on in the dead of night; folks’ve been bolting up their doors come dusk because of the strange things creeping about. It seems this town is cursed, that’s for sure. Maybe it is the witch, or maybe it’s a bunch of coincidences happening at the same time. Whatever it is, it’s weird. Thanks for the hand, but I’ve actually gotta get back to work.”
With that, Adrian grabs his bucket and rag and makes his way back inside of the building.
Much thanks Adrian, good day!
Jevar turns back to the group.
Great, so we leave the asylum and the oddities appear to follow us.
Jevar leads the group towards that other side of town, but as Adrian didn't given them an exact address, he asks around.
"Out of the pan and into the fire," Urzok grumbles, following after Jevar. While not much good at getting information from strangers (well, and having them still like him), he spends his time checking if people are following them.
"Once we've got the information we need, we should get Shakur before he causes trouble again. I'm not getting thrown out of the only inn because of him."
________
Boodiddly waves cheerfully goodbye, trying not to let his arm flop down to his side too quickly. Once the whitesmith is out of sight, he sighs heavily before looking for his companions. ”Jevar, Urzok... Where’s Shakur?” The gnome rushes inside the inn before emerging once more with the half-elf ‘s hand clutched firmly in his own small grip. ”Come on Shakur - let’s get you some sunlight and fresh air.” One friend in tow, Boodiddly follows after the other two with a cheerful smile on his face once more.
As the group reaches the other side of town, the gregarious gnome keeps an ear open as he chats with other townsfolk - occasionally asking about a painter in town. When asked if he’s looking to have portraits made or purchase an existing work, he just smiles and replies that he’s not sure yet.
As the amnesiacs make their way toward New Chapel, the more recently built of the temples to Pharasma, just across the street they find a crowd gathering outside of a rather gloomy-looking building.
”You can’t hide in there forever!”
“Fess up!”
“We know you did it!”
The front door of the building opens and out steps a half-elf with a rather gloomy demeanor. He wears an apron that is half a size too small and is covered in several splotches of both dry and wet paint.
The painter buries his face in his paint-spotted hands and looks up at the crowd before him, spots of wet paint now dotting his face. ”For the last time, I didn’t do it!”
"We're not going to be able to talk to him soom if he gets tarred and feathered, but if he hasn't been the one making the pictures, we don't need him in the first place..." Urzok points out.
"I'll help out however we think is best, but if it were up to me, I'd say he ain't our problem," he whispers to the others.