Vivia looks askance at Karik, but then shrugs. "If you think you can make that story convincing. He's a rat. He's going to die sooner or later. You might as well get your little snack out of him."
The former deputies are released, with Saster unsure of how to respond to Brogol's not-so-veiled threat. You make the trip over to the Last Stand Tavern, where colorful wooden shields and weathered antlers hang upon the deck girdling this rustic public house. Overhead, a sign carved with crenelations bears the name “The Last Stand Tavern”—the letters “L” and “T” formed with painted green-fletched arrows. It sounds like there are patrons inside, enjoying an early lunch.
”This isn’t about our enjoyment, or making a show. We have a job to do. Let’s not make the rebels job of recruiting easier.” Ingrid warned.
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"Isn't it?" Eris laughs. "Ha! Of course it isn't! This is about serious things! Order. Laws. Making sure everyone falls in line. I'm here to make that happens in the most lawful, organized, rule-y, structured series of codified edicts possible! Now--I'm happy to do the talking, or the enforcing. You command, I obey!"
Hehe!
Cimri follows along quietly, observing the way Eris practically bounds towards the tavern in eager delight. While Ingrid tries to intercept Eris and ward off the worst of the woman’s impulses, Cimri says to Vivia and the other locals, ”Caggan will crack the last of the marbles out of her brain if she goes in there like that... then we’ll have to kill him. No tears here, if that happens, but if you don’t want it, you better stop her. I’m keeping my distance. Not slitting my arm open again.”
"Eris, we're not here to edict anything or talk to anyone. We just have a notice to post. This whole job's been a lot more messy than I'd have liked already." Vivia follows the others into the tavern, already rather familiar with the place from past visits.
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Eris nods solemnly.
”Exactly! That’s what I’ve been trying to say the whole time! Ha! Let’s do this. And when I say ‘Let’s do this,’ I mean let’s do whatever it is everyone thinks we should be doing, and do it in a way that either causes no problems at all, or lots of problems, whichever it is we are supposed to be doing.”
You head into the tavern and find about a dozen patrons eating their meals and sipping various beverages. At this time of day, it's a fairly subdued and relaxed crowd. Behind the counter, Bolgart Caggan, the porcine-featured barkeep, is minding a stew with a large ladle. As you come in as a group, he looks up with a friendly expression. "Well, hello there. Ms. Nens, Magaalye, everyone. Have a seat an' I'll get your order in a minute."
He looks a little less pleased to see Cimri come in behind you, but says nothing.
Ingrid walked over to the barkeep. ”Yer hospitality is appreciated. But we are here on business. We have a notice to put up, and have been ordered to have it placed here. A compliment, I think, on how important this establishment is to the town.” Ingrid produced the notice. ”Of course, this is your establishment, and the last thing we want to do is cause any disturbance here. All that matters is that it is placed somewhere where people can see. Besides that? Life as normal.” She finished, being careful to show as little of her teeth and claws as possible.
Caggan grows increasingly wary as Ingrid explains their purpose. It's almost humorous how his expression slowly goes flat in synchrony with the rotations of his ladle gradually coming to a stop. "A... notice."
He takes the proffered notice and inspects it, his face screwing up and a vein popping in his neck. Done reading, he thrusts it back at Ingrid. "If this establishment is so important, then kindly take this notice back to the archbaron for further revision... or he can wipe his arse with it, I don' care!" His lip trembles as he tries to keep from exploding into a rage. "Maybe this ain't yer doin', ye seem nice enough, but... no. Nope. That'll ruin me."
Ingrid fought back the urge to rub her eyes. Knowing that it was the chili made it easier.
”Indeed, it isn’t my doing. But come now. Pretty sure I was picked to put this up because I look, well...” She wiggled her fingers. ”But I really don’t want to be mean. Just hired to put this up. And really, this is bigger than me, or any of us regular people. It’s politics, Y’know? And I like you. And this place, and the drinks, and the people. I really don’t want to do what you asked me to do. Because regular people? The best anyone can do is to let the politicians play their games until this blows over. So what do y’say that we just find a place to put it so that everyone can say a job’s done, and then we put it out of mind? The only way that anyone here is going to get bothered is if there’s a scene. Just putting it up? I’d bet a sip of that spicy chili there that the patrons will be more concerned about drinking and company than walking over here to read it.”
Vivia shrugs, digging into some chili "Whether we bring it back to the Archbaron or not, it isn't going to change what the rules are Caggan. As for those rules, as Gerya pointed out earlier today, there's about a thousand and one loopholes written into them. She points the spoon at a bunch of people sitting in the tavern. Who's to say all those folks aren't on their natural course of business? Or that you won't be a sanctioned business and get to do whatever you well like?"
"Don't get hysterical."
Ingrid's soft words and calm tone seem to help keep a lid on Caggan's temper, but Vivia's coarse approach and helping herself to the chili pops it right off. "Fine! Then post it!" Caggan grabs the pot of chili and tosses it, contents and all, right at Vivia.
CLONK!
Caggan's jaw drops a little as he realizes what he just did, but he quickly squares it, constitutionally incapable of apologizing. However, what he also refrains from is any further outburst.
Ingrid looked in shock for a moment, before locking eyes with Vivia.
She mouthed ”Don’t start trouble.” It was much less subtle than she had hoped. They were *so* close to getting the job done. The last thing they needed was a blood bath, no matter how justified it would be.
”How about a drink on the house for our friend here?” She said, referencing Vivia. She hoped to allow the man to make amends while saving face...
The bowl of chili sailed through the tavern, rotating slowly, its contents spreading through the air. Brogol saw it coming as soon as Caggin's hand closed around the bowl, and yet the driver - so mentally unprepared for the tavern owner's braggadocio - stood utterly still as the bowl collided with Vivia's face, steaming chili dumping all over the warrior.
Brogol's face scrunched into a wince, sympathetic to the pain the proud woman must be feeling. Stepping between Vivia and the bar (and Caggin), Brogol put a light hand on Vivia's shoulder. Calm.
"Oi. You're a right dumbfook then, Caggin. And to think I used to love drinking here. Get the woman a beer before she caves yer face in."
"Agents of the Archbaron or simply customers, do you know the penalty for assault, Caggan? Imagine if that had been on purpose? Luckily it'll just take a word of apology to make an accident like this right."
Vivia shields her face from the boiling chili, but that doesn't stop the cauldron from striking her clean in the chest. With a thrust of her arm, she sends half the wasted chili to the floor as she reaches out to grab Caggan's collar. She doesn't look Ingrid's way or notice Brogol's hand. But rather than anger, her face is twisted with exasperation. "What in all the hells are you doing Caggan. I'm trying to f%@#ing help you. The rules are shit. Everyone knows they're shit." She wipes a layer of chili off her shoulder and throws it to his counter. "You can choose to throw a fit about them, or you can join the rest of us in learning how to live with them. You're only going to be bloody ruined if you sit there doing f&&% all to better your situation." She releases his collar and sits back at the bar in front of him.
She's silent for a few moments. "Your chili's good Caggan, but not so good that I wanted a bath in it. What else have you got."
Vivia isn't quite able to reach Caggan -- he had stepped back from the bar to avoid being so quickly accosted -- but the message was clear, all the same. Through his unfortunately upturned nostrils, he huffed a quick breath of outrage. "It's all sh#$. All o' it." Then, with a clenched jaw, he slapped a tankard down on the bar in front of Vivia and filled it with a cold ale. "You're gonna ruin my business, so may as well drink it now." He then turned and walked through a curtain into the kitchen. You're of the impression that, could have he slammed the curtain behind him, he would have.
Breathing a sigh of relief and whispering a prayer of thanks to Asmodeus for having such able compatriots, Ingrid took the opportunity to put the notice up.
Karik, who been leaning on the bar a little further down on the basis his had this under control.
"Well... that was a little more eventful than it could have ideally been."
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Nodding to Karik, Brogol frowns, a thought that has been nagging at him passing again through his head. Reaching down, Brogol draws his finger through a puddle of chili on the bar.
"Whole day has been pretty eventful. Think Fex sent us to these locations because he knew they would be?"
Raising his chili-daubed finger, Brogol glances to it for a second and then shrugging, plops it into his mouth.
"Chili's good though."
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Eris chuckles to herself and holds up the skull as if to ensure it can see everything that is happening.
"I thought that went splendidly!" she says enthusiastically. "Maybe we could go put up notices in places they didn't even ask us to! Just for fun!"
She puts out her lower lip. "But I am sad that we won't be having flapjacks. It was starting to sound SO good. Hahaa! Plus, that chili looks way too hot."
Shrugging, she asks "What would be fun to do now?"
Shrugging, she asks "What would be fun to do now?"
Cimri says, "This is the last of the notices, so we can head back to Ash House if nobody has anything else."
Raziya wrinkles her nose behind her helm at Brogol's manners, but responds to his question nonetheless. "The point was for us to be seen putting these up. A few high profile encounters and the whole town will be buzzing. Either we're successful, or he has gained provocations to allow him to dispense mercy or punishment as he sees fit. And as we're relatively expendable pawns, there's truly very little for him to lose."
”Well...job’s done. And the pay has been good so far. I don’t see a problem.”
Vivia downs the ale, dropping it back down on the bar with a sour face. Under her breath, she mutters "F$@~ing hell, what a child. Probably going back there to cry."
As the others talk about what's next, she chimes in with. "I'd go for a bath before the chili burns me right to death. Wouldn't mind any healing if anyone can spare it either. The pot clocked me something fierce." On the way out, she comments on Raziya's observations "We got to do some real shit hauling this time. I'm used to being expendable, but I'm not used to being a punching bag to make some nobleman look a mite less of an a+%+%@%. Fex seems like he wants the town to rebel against him."
Karik murmurs some arcane words and gestures in the air before laying a hand on Vivia's shoulder.
An feeling of darkness and cruelty washes over her and her wounds begin to heal
"A job is a job. If things get too hot you get out, its that simple. At least as far as I see it."
His voice is level and dismissive.
"I'm happy to head back to the house. Though as I said I wouldn't mind getting my hands on that deputy once night falls."
Vaelor frowns at Vivia's words.
"Why would he want the town to rebel?"
She then smiles in her slightly disquieting way.
"I am expendable. If the pain gets too much I just go to the Other Place. Its boring there but Master always brings me back for more fun." A shiver runs through her though it doesn't seem unpleasant. "And I like pain." she says, licking her lips hungrily.
"Raziya, what does 'provocations' mean?"
"I doubt he wants the town to rebel, but finding out who in the town would be the first to do so... That is worthwhile information. Particularly with foreign instigators nearby who would doubtless have that same intelligence soon.
"A provocation is an action that demands a response, like an insult, or a raised bet, or a pot of chili to the face. If you wish to show your strength, it's better for it to be public, so that everyone can see how you choose to respond, but that carries risks... Respond too harshly and you can harden your onlookers' hearts, or worse, their resolve. Respond too leniently and you might embolden cowards who otherwise might have bent to your will."
”Aye, that’s probably it. Raise the stakes until the foreign instigators and the local dissidents come out. Then crush them. It’s a gamble, to be sure, but it’s the only thing that makes sense. Anyways, let’s go get paid. And Karik, give it a few days. Let the man put his guard down, and then come to visit. It’ll be easier that way to catch him off guard, if he’s fool enough to stay.”
You conclude your business at the Last Stand and return to the Ash House, where Razelago is waiting in his office, the "panther" sunning herself by the window. "So, how did it go? You all look healthy enough and I see no smoke on the horizon." There is a sound as if he is sniffing at the air, "Though someone is wearing an interesting bit of perfume. Spicy. I like it."
”Went fairly well. The sheriff threw a tantrum and some of her old boyos tried to cudgel us. We killed some of the fools and publicly shamed the survivors. Crowd seemed to like that, seeing us as the reasonable sort. That and the notices are all up. Gatekeepers stormed off in a huff, but aside from crying like wee babes, there wasn’t any trouble from the rest of the rabble.” Ingrid reported.
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Eris giggles as Ingrid recounts the happenings of the day.
"There seems to be some dispute over who's in charge now, if it's not the sheriff. That could be a problem going forward."
Pointing to her torn vest, she says "I nominate myself as the new sheriff. That would be all kinds of fun!"
I would order them to make me flapjacks next time!
Razelago listens to the report and asks, "A tantrum? Did she attack you? As for the others, it hardly matters. Good job." When Eris nominates herself as sheriff, the man breaks into a rasping peel of laughter, "Oh my! A sheriff! Oh! That is delightful. Cimri, I'm so glad you found her."
Once the laughter subsides, he says in a completely calm, deadpan voice, "Um, no. We will not be going that particular route."
"However, he continues, "you have all performed capably enough, the archbaron has extended an invitation for you to his manor, the Scarlet Crown, tomorrow at dawn. You're welcome to stay here again tonight or, if you prefer and have no place else, I gather the jail is now vacant."
"If there is nothing else, you can find your payment downstairs."
”It will be an honor. And I’ll stay here for the night.” With a nod, Ingrid went to receive her payment.
Brogol steps forward, clearing his throat. "About the sheriff position... What is the plan there? I've got family in town, and we were very public today. Having some law and order in place as soon as possible would go a long way towards protecting them from retribution, uh, sir?"
The head of Razelago's silhouette tilts slightly to the side as Brogol asks about the sheriff's position, then responds, "Why, Master Stokl, that's a very fine question, particularly if your family members are good, loyal, Chelish citizens. Why don't you ask the archbaron tomorrow? Like you, I am naught but a simple messenger." From the back corner, Gaurig snorts almost derisively.
Vivia looks rather irritated at Razelago's cavalier attitude towards the day's events. The day had been a mess for what should have been a simple enough job. And not the fun kind of mess. The Last Stand had been a pretty comfortable place, and this job had stolen it away from her. Gold was all well and good, but it wasn't any good if you couldn't spend it where you wanted.
"The Archbaron tomorrow then." She immediately turns to leave, planning to head downstairs and at least get some drinking in. As she goes she offers to Brogol "Maybe if we play our cards right tomorrow, YOU could be the new sheriff. Wouldn't that be a step up? Family would never be safer."
Brogol tilts his head as Razelago's silhouette does, the driver trying to read the man behind the curtain's true motives.
"Thank you. I'll do so."
Turning on his back heel, Brogol's boot clicks on the floor as he follows Vivia out the door. "Think so? It would be a step up. I'm not too scary though." Brogol looks up at the woman and marvels at just how much he has to tilt his head. "You on the other hand, I reckon could stare down a whole church square of troublemakers."
Raziya gives a gesture that's more curtsy than bow despite her armor, and asks a quick question. "Will we be expected to leap directly into action after our dawn meeting, or is this a social call?"
Karik gives a mockery of a salute
"Also that deputy we spoke of... shall he disappear?"
Razelago's head shakes slightly at Raziya's question, "I don't know. If you're asking about a dresscode, I'd say bathe if you can, wear a clean blouse under your armor, and come with your weapons. The archbaron is hiring you for your capability, not as partners to a masquerade ball."
As for the deputy, Razelago waves a disinterested hand, "If you think it prudent."
With an eye-roll at his employer's non-committal answer Karik heads down stairs to see what the rewards for this somewhat more eventful task are.
Indeed, payment for this particular round of tasks is 150 gold; Cimri’s share seems slightly larger.