Razelago chortles at Vivia's comment. "Yes, heads. Good night."
As before, you find a set of pouches waiting for you on the table, each containing the promised sum of 200 gold, distributed between platinum and gold pieces.
Cimri grabs her share and then carefully sets aside pouches for anyone who may not have returned. From her kit, she then fetches a bottle of rum and some rations, takes a pull from the bottle, then offers the rum to anyone else who wants some before sitting to put some food in her stomach. "Another job well done, I guess. Or done well enough." She smirks a little at her joke.
Taking the money, and then the rum, Ingrid offered a mock toast ”To a jobs done well enough!”
Raziya toasts and downs a glass herself. "And to the triumphs still to come!"
Vivia sweeps her gold off the table, then pointedly looks around the room as if searching for something. "Too much to ask for another nice meal on top of all the gold, is it?" She grins. "Alright then, job done, time to waste some of the pay, for old times sake. Brogol, you in?" She stabs her thumb towards the town.
"Last Stand for anyone else?"
Although she suggests it, she doesn't head immediately to the tavern. Instead, she makes a long circle towards Rohalendi's Hospice to check on her boys and drop most of her new wealth in their hands for safe-keeping. After thoroughly embarrassing them in front of their employer, she bumps fists with the two and heads off to relax.
At the prospect of getting roaring drunk — this time on proper liquor that a few gold coins could buy — and maybe even a hot meal, Cimri practically leapt at the chance. ”I’m in! I was just going to drink rum until I passed out, but that sounds more fun.”
You find the Last Stand is fairly packed and the mood is, frankly, a bit rough and dour. People are anger about Louslik’s murder, but also a bit scared. Nobody quite seems to have pinned it on you, though one of the town’s deputies is hanging out on the front deck to ensure things stay peaceful. The barkeep, Bolgart Caggan, is a porcine-looking fellow with a reputation as a boisterous brawler who loves a good fight in his bar, but even he is subdued. Still, he’s happy to pour you whatever you like and has a few different dishes available for dinner.
After taking a big swig of the rum Karik will join those going on the town and will be keeping an eye for a potential... blood donor... not necessarily a willing one.
The next morning, Cimri -- bleary eyed and hung over -- goes about waking up those who crashed at the Ash House. For those in town, the same messenger from the day before arrives just before dawn. You are gathered once more in Razelago's office as the sun is rising and there is a stack of parchments on the table before the screen.
“Nothing more than an errand today, but one well suited to your skills. I met with the Archbaron last night.” Razelago’s silhouette inclines a hand toward the parchments. “He has issued several new decrees that he’d like posted across town to inform the citizenry.”
All Citizens of and Visitors to the Town of Longacre,
By Order of His Lordship Darellus Fex, Archbaron of Longacre, and in accordance with the wishes of Her Infernal Majestrix, Queen Abrogail II of the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune, the following decrees are now in effect:
Longacre’s western gate, known as the Castle Gate, is closed until further notice. All travel into and out of Longacre must employ the north or south gates and be officially sanctioned. Only the archbaron’s agents, sanctioned local businesses, or those displaying a writ of passage bearing the seal of House Fex, will be granted passage. All others must obtain a writ from the Longacre notary or do business elsewhere.
Longacre citizens shall not congregate in groups numbering greater than six in private, or in numbers greater than twelve in public. Exceptions will be made only for families with more than six members or for individuals undertaking the natural course of their business. Gatherings for the purposes of celebration, education, or religion are not exempt from this order.
A curfew is now in effect. From the hour after dusk to the hour before dawn, no citizen of Longacre is allowed upon the town’s streets without a writ of exception bearing the seal of House Fex. The archbaron’s agents and sanctioned local businesses are exempt from this order. Those seeking a writ of exception may apply at the Longacre Notary.
Any persons found in violation of these mandates or any other laws and sanctions of Longacre will be considered seditious agents and are subject to questioning, imprisonment, and summary judgment by the Archbaron of Longacre and officials of the town government.
For the prosperity of Longacre, the protection of the Empire, and the glory of House Thrune,
Darellus Fex,
Archbaron of Longacre
“Post these decrees at the notice post in the church square, the jail, the Last Stand Tavern, and the Castle Gate. And while you’re at the jail, stop by the sheriff’s office. The Archbaron has a second decree for you to deliver.” Razelago’s shadow tilts toward Cimri, who picks up a folded page from the table. “One that dismisses Rhona Staelish as the sheriff of Longacre.
“You have until noon today. Perform as reliably as you have in your last two tasks, and I’ll pay what we agreed upon for your first task. If this assignment goes smoothly, the Archbaron would like to meet with you. It sounds as though he might soon have some civil positions to fill.”
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Eris smiles slyly upon reading the archbaron's Decree.
"Oh, this will make all the townspeople so happy! Martial law and quarantine will go a long way toward helping people--remember what is truly important! Ha! This is also going to make that holier-than-thou priestess thrilled! Oh, oh! And the sheriff--she's probably going to lighten up about her sheriff duties! Haha!"
She nearly jumps up and down in anticipation and pats the cranium at her belt.
Vivia eyes the Decree with a twist to her mouth, barely managing to keep herself from scoffing audibly. No sense angering the employer. "Alright. We can throw these wherever you like."
Against her mercenary instincts, she ends up commenting anyway "The Archbaron doesn't have anyone that can put up some posters around town? Is that because the message is going to go over about as well as giving the whole town a good paddlin'? Needs some toughs that people are less likely to manage to lynch. Is that it?" She picks at her teeth, then looks over at Cimri to see how the girl is reacting to the news that Rhona's getting dismissed.
Then she looks over at Raziya "Sounds like there's going to be an opening for sheriff soon. Thinking of applying? The town could use someone with their head in the right place." She smirks, winking at Raziya.
Hmm. Letting mint off the hook? Fex is softer than I thought.
Raziya finishes reading over the decrees with a pensive look on her face. Expectantly she asks Razelago, "Ah, and do you already have our writs of exception prepared?"
... "Needs some toughs that people are less likely to manage to lynch. Is that it?"
In his signature, high-pitched intonation, Razelago half-purrs, half-buzzes in glee at Vivia's snide observation. "Indeed, Ms. Nens, that is exactly it. More to the point, and to Ms. Magaalye's, you are exempt from the order as you will be acting as the archbaron's agents, as signified by the sashes you were given yesterday. You are all wearing them while in town, yes?" There is something to his tone suggesting he knows that is not the case. Regardless, he doesn't wait for an answer. "We will see how you speak and act on his behalf and, if you do well, I will introduce you to him and we will no longer have to interact like this, to our mutual relief, I'm sure."
Cimri stays quiet through the conversation but does read the letter to Rhona Staelish formally dismissing her. It's either a very long letter, or she's reading it several times. Eventually, she folks it back up and puts it in a vest pocket and returns her attention to the conversation.
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Night before
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Brogol neatly pockets the coin payment and gently shakes his head. "Non. Not tonight, I'm afraid, Vivi. Need to see my family."
A worrisome thought passes through Brogol's mind.
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This morning
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Waking to a knock on the door to his carriage, Brogol rubs his eyes and sits up. Another job? So soon? Opening the carriage door, the same nagging worry tugs at Brogol's bleary mind. My family could be targets.
"Oi." Brogol beckons the messenger closer. "When you're done waking the others, take a trip around town, OK? By me a cloak - the blacker and finer the better. And a scarf, wool, brown or black. And, if you can find it, a hood. If not, a sack - canvas or something not too scratchy."
Fishing in his cloak pocket, Brogol pulls two shiny platinum from the last job and puts them in the messenger's hand. "Whatever you don't spend is yours. Bring my stuff by the Ash House no later than noon, chinney."
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At the Ash House
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Brogol drops a handful of coin near the cat and clears his throat. "Ahem. Always a chance, if we're to be the new law in town, that we may have to be, erm -what's the fancy word? - circumsized in how we go about things? Creative-like, right? Any chance I could trade this coin for some really nice-like lockpicks. You know a guy who knows a guy type thing?"
Turning to the others, Brogol shrugs. "Where should we go first? I can see some value in dismissing the sheriff right off, so she don't try and interfere later."
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Eris had worn her armband the previous day, but she puts it on again.
"I love our new club! Arm bands--oh, oh, we need a uniform! And lots of passwords."
She spins around, evidently happy with all the assignments and the great fun this will be to inflict on the town. She watches Cimri read the letter.
"Don't be so anxious, darling! I could tell your aunt wanted a new job, anyway! Ha! This will loosen her up--she was way too uptight."
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The messenger looks a little confused at being stopped, but agrees to help. "Ay, mister. Shouldn't be no problem."
Cimri briefly glowers at Eris and is about to snap off a sharp retort, then pauses and the slightest of grins comes to her face, "You know, Eris... I can't argue with that."
When Brogol asks about the state of the law after Rhona's dismissal, Razelago utters a brief chuckle at the malapropism but otherwise waves away the concern. "The archbaron does not intend to shackle you with the pedestrian commitments imposed on a sheriff. You can be as big of a prick as you want, sans circumcision and circumscription, as long as it accomplishes the archbaron's goals."
"Could you procure a sample of those writs for us? It would be a shame if shoddy forgeries were able to evade our detection."
Raziya spares a glance for Cimri, wishing that the veil were in fact dropped between her and Razelago so she could ask what he wanted for the Staelishes without Cimri's temper as a factor.
"We will have to take care in dismissing Rhona gently. She could easily become the center of a knot of misguided iconoclasm. Perhaps better to place her in a position of standing with these new laws before she is dismissed. Then we will either know that she plans to stand against the new order, and must be dissuaded from doing so, or her credibility with any revolutionaries will be tarnished by her complicity."
At Razelago's explanation to Brogol, Vivia grunts "For all her being a stickler for the rules, or maybe because of it, Rhona's a steady rock around these parts. If she's gone, the priestess might even have an easier time. Still..." She glances at Raziya "Fex knows what he wants. If he doesn't want her running the show, she won't be running the show."
"Though Raziya's idea might make for a softer landing, for all of us. I don't much like the idea of her loyal dogs getting angry and jumping us."
Vaelor giggles like a school girl at Brogol's phrasing.
"I can help with that if you'd like." She says pull a look of pure innocence.
"So after we give the sheriff her marching orders are we going to be enforcing these writs?" Karik drawls, not fully awake as is usual.
Razelago allows you to discuss the suggestions and, as to the matter of giving Rhona an alternative position, he answers in a surprisingly direct manner. "No. She is out. You are to make that very clear to her. I doubt it will come to violence but, if it should, be ready for a difficult fight, especially if she is in the company of her deputies."
As to the matter of example writs and what comes next, Razelago says, "Assuming you perform adequately -- as Ms. Nens has gone to great pains to state, it should be fairly straightforward -- I'll introduce you to the archbaron and your future role in Longacre will be up to him to decide and explain. I'll look into procuring an example copy of a writ for you but, as I said, I do not expect you're to be performing the tasks of a common sheriff."
"I don't mean that we should retain her in a position of power, just force her to take a public stance on these edicts before dismissing her. It gives us avenues of attack regardless of her decision. Either she is the sheriff who deserted her post in favor of Allamar's rabble rousing, and we can separate her from those who wish peace and order, or she is but another of Fex's followers, and Allamar's iconoclasts will be reluctant to trust her."
Razelago hums as he considers something, then waves a hand, "It's an interesting gambit. If you can get her to take a position, fine, but you may be giving her an opportunity to interfere by alerting her before the notices are up. Deal with it how you like." He pauses, then asks, "Anything else?"
Brogol gives Vaelor a sideways glance, her joke, delivered with such earnestness, going completely over the driver's head. "Sure, I suppose. Thanks?"
Hovering his hand over his money, looking back to Razelago. "So, you got a friend can get me some better lockpicks? If so, I'll just leave the coin here with your cat."
To the room in general, he asks, "Anyways, we going to visit the sheriff first then?"
"Alright then. Might as well get the sheriff out of the way, eh Brogol." She lays a hand on her scythe. "If we don't, she'll be out challenging us and making a carnival out of the whole thing, I'm sure."
Vivia just plain doesn't like this job. Fighting for one faction or another in some local skirmish, guarding merchants and their goods, even intimidating a client's enemies... that was all clean work. People knew what you were about, and they didn't hold it against you. Even shaking people down and maybe silencing them if things got messy was still fine, so long as you avoided the relatives afterward. The fun bits, if there were any, could stay in the dark, out of sight, where they belonged.
It was another thing entirely going about as 'voices of the State', making pronouncements and serving as the Archbaron's hand. That shit earned you enemies. People would hold it against them. It wasn't the kind of thing that left you feeling warm and fuzzy about raising your kids nearby.
She looks at Razelago's projected outline and hopes this'll be worth the trouble.
Cimri's expression gradually turns stony before she turns and shoves her way out, "We're firing her, not killing her. I'll wait for y'all downstairs."
In the corner, Gaurig twitches a furry ear as she watches Cimri depart, then shifts her lazy gaze back to the others.
Razelago utters a low, rasping chuckle before he says, "Yes, yes, I can get you some tools, Master Stokl. They'll be waiting for you here... with your garments." A pause, then, "Alright now, be off, all of you... There is law and order to be imposed, and the scales of justice does not await the convenience of we mere mortals. Go!"
Karik nods and heads off
Anticipating that trouble and discretion are likely outcomes, Raziya returns to her aunt's home to gear up, donning her armor and skull mask, taking pains to keep any identifying features concealed.
"Of course." Vivia remembers herself and adds "Sir" before taking her leave.
Once down on the ground floor, she dons her sash and turns to the others, grimacing. "The jail first then. After this job, you can say goodbye to any friends you might have in town. These rules are going to be about as popular as getting your gangrenous nails pulled out." She scowls "I we weren't getting paid a fortune for each job, I'd be out."
"Since we are-" She looks up towards Razelago's room. "-I'll meet you at the jail."
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She heads first to the Hospice to warn her two boys that mom's about to become unpopular, but its all for a good job and they should sit tight. If anyone looks at them strange, they should get running before strange looks turn to retribution.
“Post these decrees at the notice post in the (1) church square, (2) the jail, (3) the Last Stand Tavern, and the (4) Castle Gate. And while you’re at the jail, stop by the sheriff’s office. The Archbaron has a second decree for you to deliver.”
After some of you quickly attend to personal business, you meet up outside the Longacre Jail .
With its unevenly mortared stones and barred windows, this squat structure looks like a miniature fortress. Despite the row of horseshoes hung beneath its sign, nothing can make the plain word “Jail” look welcoming. Two wooden pillories stand empty in front of the building.
If spoken to, Cimri engages in easy small talk and seems to have resolved most of whatever conflict she had at the Ash House. When you gather at the Ash House, she is wearing her sash.
As they approach the building, Brogol ties his shirt around his nose and mouth, as if a wearing a bandanna, and flips his cloak hood up.
"You alright?" the driver asks Cimri. "How do you think Rhona's going to take this?"
Stopping outside the jail, Brogol cocks his head and holds up three fingers, whispering, "Three inside - at least. Everyone ready?" Giving a few moments for everyone to prepare what they need, Brogol holds his breath and concentrates, trying to figure out what the conversation in the jail is about. When everyone is ready, Brogol nods - Ready? - and swings the jail door open.
Razyia nods, leaving her weapons sheathed, but blessing herself with an orison to enhance her diplomacy.
Vivia nods to Brogol's question, but whispers back "We're just delivering a letter here, yeah? Just talk in your best Razelago impression and we should be golden." She gets ready to follow on Brogol's heels into the jail.
The notice to be placed in the jail is securely in her leather vest's side pocket.
”Aye, three voices inside, at least. Wish I could make out more.” Ingrid said, speaking for the first time in what seemed like a week. ”This could get messy.” She continued, her clawed hands twitching in anticipation.
As they approach the building, Brogol ties his shirt around his nose and mouth, as if a wearing a bandanna, and flips his cloak hood up.
"You alright?" the driver asks Cimri. "How do you think Rhona's going to take this?"
Cimri watches Brogol with an arched brow and lip curled in a slight grin/smirk. "You, uh, still kinda look like... you? As for her..." The smirk fades and she stares at the door, "We'll find out."
Stepping into the jail, you find a large common room with three desks and a table with four chairs. Two doors exit the room to the north. To the west, a waist-high railing separates the sheriff's "office" from the rest of the jail.
As you start to file into the jail, six deputies and the sheriff all stop in their conversation to look at you. The deputies in the common room stand up while Rhona remains seated but pushes her chair back slightly from her desk where she had been in conversation with another pair of deputies who, for now, also remain seated but have turned their attention to you.
The deputy at the desk closest to the door raises a hand in a "halt"-gesture and says, "This is quite the crowd... what's your business?" Rhona continues to watch impassively.
Cimri slips in behind Brogol and Vivia and then sticks to the back wall; so far, she seems to be unnoticed by the sheriff.
Ingrid tapped her armband. ”Got business with the sheriff. Ye lads step outside for a moment. Give a bit of privacy, aye? Whether it’s good news or bad news depends on what the sheriff wants. But ye’d best respect enough to let the decision be in private.”
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The deputy looks like she's about to tell Ingrid where she can stick her armband, then takes a closer look at it, recognizes the coat of arms, and pauses. She doesn't move nor waver, so much as simply ask, "Sheriff?" while keeping her gaze on Ingrid.
From her office, the elder Staelish says, "Let them pass, but stay. Witnesses are always welcome when the business of the law is being conducted..." The sheriff doesn't move, still reclining slightly in her chair, though the two deputies across from her both stand, and the one blocking Ingrid takes a single step to the side, clearing a path.
Ingrid shrugged and pulled out the letter. ”Fine. This is above our heads. But yer not a sheriff anymore.” She went to hand it over. ”Thing is, while this isn’t negotiable, we can tell that yer good for this town. I know that I may not look it, but I do want what’s best for everyone here. If ye feel the same way, then I’d like to know if yer willing to take another position. We have some small amount of pull. Forces outside of any of our control are at work here. The best people like us can do is what we can until things go back to normal, aye? I hope that ye feel the same.”
Tsk. I said force her to take a stance, not a job...
"Ingrid is correct, Sheriff Staelish. There is still much you can do to help the people of Longacre. Will you stand with us to make certain that there are not any unpleasant overreactions to these measures?"
Vivia simply crosses her arms and waits for Rhona to have read the letter. She considers just posting the Decree while the sheriff is distracted, but realizes if things go south, that'll probably only enrage her more.
Staelish watched Ingrid cross the room as she listened to the tiefling's little speech. When the letter was presented, the sheriff remained reclined for a moment, staring at the letter, then shifted her gaze to match Ingrid's as she leaned forward and accepted the missive. She turned to her desk, unfolded the letter, and began to read it.
Meanwhile, the deputies started to growl. "What's that, sheriff? He can't fire you! We won't let him." She raised a hand with a single finger extended in a gesture of silence, and the deputies quieted while she continued to read.
Rhona's jaw clenches and her lips purse in muted fury, but after a minute she folds the letter back up, stands, and places it in a pocket. "It indeed seems the Archbaron no longer requires my services, and he's too much of a coward to deliver the news himself." She fixes Ingrid with a stare but it lasts only a second before drifting up to include the others. This time she notices Cimri in the corner, but aside from a brief flicker of recognition between the two, the sheriff ignores her niece.
"Ms. Magaalye, stranger," she glances again at Ingrid, "your words are pretty, but do me the honor of not pissing on my leg and tell me it's raining. I'm being sacked, and it's quite clear why. That's the archbaron's prerogative, but I won't play in these little games." As she speaks, she opens a cabinet behind her, removes an ebon-handled longsword which she places on the desk. She also removes her black vest embroidered with the symbol of Cheliax and lays it atop the sword. She then collects a crossbow and a few personal effects from the desk. As she does so, the deputies grow increasingly agitated, whispering between themselves or glowering at the archbaron's agents.
Having collected her things, Rhona Staelish, formerly the sheriff of Longacre, moves to leave the jail -- never speaking to or looking at Cimri again.
Ingrid watched the former sheriff leave without a word. Violence had been averted, and that was what was important.
Cimri watches Brogol with an arched brow and lip curled in a slight grin/smirk. "You, uh, still kinda look like... you? As for her..." The smirk fades and she stares at the door, "We'll find out."
"Oh, er right then." Brogol says, shifting his shirt/mask up and tying it tighter behind his head. "Thank you, Cim."
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Stepping into the jail, Brogol frowns as he sees six people there - not three - and doesn't realize that his mask slips a bit, showing more than just the driver's eyes. Taking a spot next to Cimri against the wall, Brogol lightly grips his bladed scarf as the more intimidating Ingrid delivers the news of Rhona's unemployment. He lets go an audible exhalation of relief as the sheriff gathers her things and makes for the door, apparently ceding her position without a fight.
Vivia, struck by a sudden suspicion, speaks up to say "If I were you, I wouldn't go over and join those Iomedeans brewing trouble. It wouldn't be good for you, or for the town." She glances at the deputies. "Same goes for you."
Beyond that, she doesn't offer any other words. Rhona had already tacitly refused the possibility of working for the winning side. All that could be hoped for is that she sits this one out.
Rhona pauses, very briefly, to match Vivia's gaze. Though of shorter stature, Rhona's eyes are flinty and piercing. "With thugs like yourself running this town, Ms. Nens, I worry about this town, too. But it seems to be in your hands now."
She brushes past, then out the door and you hear her footsteps cross the wooden deck out front, transition to the dirt street, and withdraw.
The deputies are seething but silent until one of them, in the sheriff's bullpen, grabs a crossbow and says, "This ain’t right. You can’t just throw out this town’s only justice. It ain’t right!”
"Aye, that's right! We won't let you do this," says a second, with a scar on his cheek.
The deputy by the front door adds, "This ain't your town to take..."
”Deputies.” Ingrid said, coldly. ”Ye are all sworn to uphold the law and to protect the people of this town. Getting into a brawl like common thugs doesn’t help ye in any of that. All it means is that the town will lose more good men. Men who care about the people here. Tell me, is beating us up worth losing your jobs, and having watchmen from inner Cheliax he brought in? How much will your friends and family thank ye if you’re replaced by men without any ties to this town, and without care for the people? Think on that before ye act rashly.”
Brogol remains with his back to the wall, keeping his voice measured and tone calm.
"How will your friends and family thank you for the trouble you bring upon them, when you're branded traitors for attacking the Archbaron's representatives?"
Tapping the sash draped across his chest, Brogol continues.
"Choose what you do next wisely. Fex has all the power here. Even if you manage to survive the day -" Brogol nods towards Vaelor "- your remaining hours will be short and unhappy, and you'll go to your graves knowing your families and friends will suffer mightily for what happens next. Think of the worst thing that could happen to them, and know that what happens will be twenty times worse."