Sinan puts his hand on the book without looking at it. But he stares into Valor's face. "There is nothing wrong with honoring the Inheritor if that is what is in your heart. But to lie to yourself, that is a falsehood you may not recover from. And the goddess of justice may tread on you for it"
He gestures to Valor's weapon. "That weapon suits you. But it is a Caydenite weapon. It surprised me fully to see you wield it with talent. But not with reverence like you would have with a longsword, or I with my Lady's blade." Sinan gestures to the scimitar hanging from his belt.
"But stranger things have I seen since I left Katheer. In my youth, I was a scoundrel, a thief, a highway robber with dreams of becoming a horselord. The Dawnflower saw fit to put a priest in my path to teach me her ways. If there is any lesson I could have gained from that, it is that anyone may have a new path thrust upon them. And in my haze after the boar gutted me, she told me that my path was to help you on yours. That you were lost. And if that's the case, may her voice and warmth find you like it had me."
As Sinan and Simon have a serious yet amiable talk in the warmth of Bort's wagon, we return to the Feedmill. Kunsheng has his hands fulls as Gamble entertains. Somehow, Cooky and Deerslicer have been cranking out dish after dish at an accelerated pace. The Redfern twins are harried as well, as more of the locals ask not only for the "special", but for other dishes such as shepherd's pie, mashed potatoes and of course, roasted turnips. The atmosphere is one of merriment and for a moment all of you notice that at least for the night, Bort's teamsters are cracking a faint smile. The feeling of comfort is brief, as he almost slams into a rushing Deerslicer carrying a plate of stew! Thankfully, all those years serving at the refectory haven't dulled his reflexes and goblin and Tien-shu avert a wet, hot catastrophe.
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At the end of the shift, as everyone is helping clean up, Delma approaches you and pays you for your services. She even pays Deerslicer for his quail and rabbit.
As she finishes handing the copper pieces, Delma expresses her gratitude. "Thank you for all you've done. Please, feel free to stay for the night. There's also leftovers of the stew, if you 'd like a late night meal."
Pepper will root close to Deerslicer and Gracie for the night, if allowed.
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"There is nothing wrong with honoring the Inheritor if that is what is in your heart. But to lie to yourself, that is a falsehood you may not recover from."
Simon is speechless and rather quiet for the rest of the time they're looking through the ledgers. He's never considered that he could be lying to himself. He's reads his holy book every day; he heals people in Iomedae's name. He knows he doesn't heal the way other clerics do, but is magical healing really what defines a true believer?
Fast forward to the night, Simon sleeps rather fitfully. Lie to yourself, a female voice calls, that is a falsehood you may not recover from. Arms of people he has lied to reach out from the ground, blindly grasping at him as he staggers away from a charging boar. An old woman whose symptoms he covered up so he could abscond with her life savings. His father, beaming with pride as Simon told him he was accepted to be an acolyte. Dozens of faces he could barely recognize, much less remember their names. Lie to yourself, the voice echoes, that is a falsehood you may not recover from. A hand grasping a rapier thrusts out of the ground, running Simon through. Simon snaps awake, gasping.
Having somewhat chastised Valor in his attempt to make they other man understand the wealth of what Sarenrae might be offering him, Sinan shares what he found with his friends before taking a bowl of stew and indulging in the hot extravagance.
"You mentioned an old temple, Valor. I'd like to take a look at it tomorrow after we help Delma. And find who this mysterious 'H' is." He had been so hungry, he barely stopped shovelling the stew in while speaking.
Exhausted as he was, he still taook the time to do his daily admonitions and thank the Dawn Flower for allowing him to see another day.
Finally, his tired frame fell to rest with the thought that there is only one name in town that starts with an H that Sinan has heard. Hallod. That would have to be the plan after helping Delma's father in the morning.
"Hallod is the low hanging fruit," Gamble suggests. "I could ask around town to find out how many people at the bar that night had a name that began with 'H,' I guess."
"A solid plan, my friend. But let's not rule him out, Gamble. I do not enjoy bullies. Yet even they might simply have found an errant path."
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Tamli, Cooky and the Ulf/Olf bid you farewell as they head over to their wagons to rest. They also offer you to sleep there if you wish.
++fear++, ++anger++, ++hungry++, ++pain++
During the night, the same wiry furred dog from the night before approaches Pepper. If anything, he is persistent. Half-awake, Gracie raises her head and scares it away with a soft growl. Perhaps only Gracie would notice that Pepper's lithe frame shakes during the night as she curls up next to Deerslicer.
The rest of you awaken in your own private rooms at the Feedmill or in the wagons, depending on your choice, the next morning; feeling slightly more refreshed.
Outside the Feedmill, I imagine Pepper would uncurl her leaves as Deerslicer and Pepper would yawn and stretch. With his sting welts slowly diminishing in size, Deerslicer would also notice that in front of them, leaning against a shack's wall is the nobleman from the day of Bort's murder, passed out drunk cluttching a bottle in his hand. A few moments later, another man comes over to him and with sadness crouches down and picks him up, leaving the empty bottle on the ground.
Pepper will give Gracie a big cuddle, because, though she is healed up from a good night's sleep, she is a bit shaken.
Upon meeting her comrades, she listens to all that is said, about someone named Eyche and all.
"There is something afoot here in the spirit world too.
There is some dog that is possessed.
And there is some spirit urging me on about fear, anger, hunger, pain... some force at work."
With the morning, Sinan finds himself a spot outside to bathe in the suns's radiance and pray in thanks to the Dawnflower for another day. He then steps back into the Feedmill for breakfast, fastening on his armor as he does.
"Some force in the first world?" he asks of Pepper as he takes a seat. "I know very little of the First World other than that it exists. But considering the wolves the other night and the boar that Kusheng, Valor, and I fought at Trin's house, I cannot say I would be too surprised."
Pepper remains shy, but tries to answer Sinan without faltering.
"The spirit reaching out is a kindred spirit, so some plant I imagine.
But it was urging me on behalf of someone or something else... so maybe not a plant?"
"The First World is supposed to have come first.
Then, I think this Material Plane, and the Shadow Plane or Negative or whatever is the opposite of this one.
Then there must be a whole bunch of other Planes."
The Feedmill, is unsurprisingly empty. Thin sunrays make their way from the window and the morning is refreshingly cool. From the kitchen, you can hear the sound of cooking. As you make your way to your seats, you hear a familiar voice call out from the kitchen.
"We've got eggs for breakfast!" Cooky comes over with several plates and serves you all some scrambled eggs with chopped tomatoes and onions and a helping of beans on the side. He then slides two slices of bacon on Sinan's plate. He shrugs, "Delma said you might need it for today."
As you finish your breakfast, Delma and Edra arrive with an elderly gentleman whom Sinan and Gamble would imagine is her father. He's a thin, balding man in his late eighties and is being pushed in a wooden wheelchair constructed from a modified pushcart. He squints as he's pushed get closer to you all. Perhaps his eyesight is failing as his gaze lingers on each of you for an uncomfortable moment. He frowns when he sees Deerslicer, his mouth drawing a thin line. His jaw tightens, but he says nothing. His gaze finally settles on Pepper and he blinks as a large grin breaks his craggy features. "A leshy!", he says in wonderment, as he struggles to stand up and approach her. Delma tries to stop her father, but he waves her away irritably. "My pappy was right! You do exist!", his voice catches as tears stream from his eyes. "He was right... he was right...", his hand reaches out to touch her foliage.
"Father, please" Delma says embarrassed by her father's behaviour. "Everyone, this is my father and the mayor of Etran's Folly, Targen Fulst."
Pepper comes up close to Delma's father.
"Please, Delma, it is fine. I am happy to exist, and show that pappy was indeed right."
To Targen she says: "Mr. Mayor, it is an honor to be in your town, and if you may, please have this leaf as a gift, in honor of your pappy!"
And she plucks the biggest leaf she has to hand over.
Sinan rises from his chair to offer a small bow to Targen. Well met, Your Honor. I am Brother Sinan. Delma has asked that we help you out in the mornings." Sinan gives a sidelong grin to Pepper, her gift is not one that Sinan would consider small in any way. "What would you like to do today?"
"Thank you", Targen Fulst's voice barely a whisper as he takes the leaf with a shaky hand. Edra helps him back to his chair. "He used to tell me stories about the spirits in the forest", he says almost in a whisper, "about the protectors of the woods. Everyone else thought he was odd, but I believed even as I got older. Why wouldn't I. There are many miracles in this world. I believed. He speaks normally now, eyeing Pepper, but also Deerslicer, his gaze staring directly into his eyes. You have returned to the forest now, to see the illness of our land. The plague tried to bend us, but we persevered. Nature is to be respected, but it will not bend us!"
Targen Fulst has a coughing fit. Delma fusses over her father.
"Young man", he wipes tears from his eyes and looks at Sinan, "You don't look to be from around here. Mayhaps you and your friends would like a tour of the town? I'm not much of a walker, now, but if you could wheel me in right direction, I'm sure you'll find our small community interesting."
Sinan takes over pushing Targen's chair. "Actually, my friend, I think that the Mayor might have much to show us," From behind the Mayor's back, he offers Deerslicer a wink. "Might be a good time to see if you can track down our missing friend. We'll take our time so you can catch up."
He looks down at the Mayor with a smile. "Thank you for your kind offer, Your Honor. There is an old temple that Valor mentioned that I particularly wish to visit."
Gamble wanders down from his room, refreshed. "A tour? Sure," he says with a smile. "Maybe you could point out all the people with a name starting with the letter 'H' while we're at it."
"Ah, yes, yes. We'll get there, there's no sense rushing about.", he answers Sinan absentmindedly.
When Gamble speaks, Targen turns towards him. "Is that you, Ecklund? Ah, no. My apologies. My eyes aren't what they used to. You've interesting hobbies, sir. We've got Hallod, and Harold and the Hemsoth boy."
"Father", Delma begins, "the Hemsoth boy is Pari. Holland died two years ago."
"Ah, yes. That's right."
"Let's begin here, with my pride, The Feedmill. I opened it up over 50 years ago. Right before the Goblinblood Wars. Lost my older brother there... and most of my family. Etran's Folly was spared the worst of it as the fighting was way yonder west. So much death. We thought that would be the worst of it, yes we did."
He eyes Deerslicer wearily.
"Onward, young man. Take me to the Plaguestone."
"Youth is always in such a rush. The temple", he cracks a kindly smile at Valor, "is still there and will be by the time the tour is done, as is the Old Shrine to Gozreh." Targen shakes his head. "Shame about the Old Shrine, I'll show you where it is, but it'd be best not to get near there. Bloodseekers have made a nest there. You do know what they are, right, young one?"
They usually live in swamps and damp, abandoned places,and are ravenous blood drinkers.
They're about a foot long, with mottled, reddish-brown skin and a yellow underbelly. Its four wings resemble bat wings.
According to what you've heard these creatures can be scared away by waving torches at the flying pests. However, they are much bolder when encountered in larger numbers, as bringing down one victim lets an entire colony feed. Bloodseeker colonies are called clots, for obvious and disgusting reasons. If a lone bloodseeker finds a likely victim while its clot is nearby, it emits a high-pitched, keening noise to summon reinforcements.
They tend to attach themselves to prey and drain them of blood.
"Of course, if we could get rid of them, the cattle would probably survive more, I guess. They can drain 'em dry, you know. The old chemyst witch, Silwyth used their proboscis sometimes to heal others. Injecting chemical concoctions and whatnot."
Upon Deerslicer's comment, he snaps him, "The town is called Etran's Folly, not Plaguestone, goblin!"
More calmed, he looks at Deerslicer apologetically, "I understand your confusion, as this is the plaguestone", he says pointing at a large, ancient, flat, cylindrical rock standing 2 feet high, with a hole in its center and a bowl-shaped depression off to one side. "Twenty years ago it was used to give food and aid to those suffering from the plague. It came suddenly to Etran’s Folly. We all felt fine at first, but then we had problems fevers and problems breathing. After that came the welts that covered the body. We were scared. Very much scared. Not even offerings to Gozreh brought any succor. We separated the sick from the healthy and still it latched onto us as a flea. While the plague ran rampant, we used to leave food for the sick in the bowl, and they in turn left coins in the center hole. We kept that thing filled with vinegar, to cleanse the coin from the plague. Now I wonder if that even worked", he adds with a sigh.
"We all thought at the time that the chemyst witch I told you about, Silwyth started the plague because of her magickry, but she eventually caught it herself. She was a spiteful creature, she died cursing the town’s only priest. That be Father Bolgrist. Soon after, the Father contracted the plague and died." Targen makes a warding sign against evil.
"The witch had a daughter named Vilree. The wretched thing stuck around her mother’s home for a few years, then probably died or ran off. Good riddance. She was a halfie, you know."
"Wheel me north, young man. Let's go visit the Dead Homes."
”Say, do you suppose we could get free room and board while we wait for the magistrate if we managed to get rid of the blood seeker problem?” Gamble asks.
Sinan grimaces at the mayor's tale- not for the loss of life, while still tragic, but for the narrow mindedness that seems to have exacerbated an already bad situation. Still, scolding this old man wouldn't do much good. Now, if this town had a priest, even an acolyte, maybe they could turn the minds and hearts of the good folk.
"The town still tried to give succor to the ill..." he mused. "That is looking forward to the Dawn. Silwyth's daughter, Vilree. Did the town offer her help in the same way? And what of those that caught the plague? Did many recover? Did any?"
He wants more information on those scorned because there are lessons to be learned, or taught. But Sinan knows to use the later questions to cushion the blow of the earlier ones.
"Youngster", Targen speaks towards where Gamble's voice came from, "if you get rid of those pests, you can take one of the houses of the Dead Homes. Can't offer you free lodging for yourselves. We need to make coin. We are a business after all", he says with an apologetic shrug.
You all leave the Plaguestone behind as Sinan, I imagine, heads north into the Dead Homes. "Son", he tells Valor, "we didn't stop the plague. It did its work on us and died out on its own, after it left more than half of our neighbours dead. We adopted as many of the orphans as we could, but many more died from lack of food. There just weren't enough healthy people to work the fields."
He coughs and avoids looking at Sinan and Kunsheng after their comments. He remains silent as you approach the abandoned and dilapidated homes to the north of the city. When he speaks, you can sense just a twinge of regret.
"No, things were still raw about her and her mother. We didn't help her, nor did we harass her. To be honest, we were too busy trying to survive day-by-day and well, no one wanted to take her in. Because of her mother and because of her...", he mimics two long ears with his fingers. "Less than half of us survived. We got better, as I'm living testament and so is my girl, Delma. Well, here we are."
As you walk past a ghostly street in the morning sun, you can feel a sense of dread in this neighbourhood. Most of the homes are empty and in a terrible state of disrepair. Some look as if they'll collapse on themselves at any moment. You can easily tell that only the very poor or desperate call this part of town home.
"The north side of town where most of the plague victims lived. Anyone with coin lives on the southern part of town."
"Remembering the plague, it's tiring. I don't feel like grieving for my dead again. Please, take me to the north, then follow the path east. I'll show you where the old shrine is."
Pepper follows along, learning more and more about human-folk and how they interact, and looking at all the houses and such.
"Remind me how long it has been since the plague ended?" he asks.
"Twenty years, young man." Responds Targen, "Twenty years."
Pepper listens carefully. She does not understand, a Plague lasting one season. Did the man not say twenty years, which is short... oh, of course, humans live short lives, shorter than trees! Silly Pepper.
Leaving the north side of town, Targen wants to be walked along this old
shepherd’s path that wanders through the turnip farms around town. "All this used to be sheep pastures, but the last large flock left town years ago", he mentions. "The young ones prefer to go to the cities." He gives a tired sigh and answers Deerslicer's question. "It lasted almost five months."
The path meanders south and several times you need to take care of the irregularities of the path to avoid Targen falling over. Still, his body is jolted several times even with your best efforts. "Don't worry to much about me. See that copse up ahead? deep in there is the Old Shrine. We can go through there and, get out of this blasted sun."
As the group wanders through the old oak woods, Targen notes, "That shrine is dedicated to Gozreh, but my pappy used to tell me other stories. He claimed that druids used to gather at the shrine long ago. Since Father
Bolgrist's death, nobody worships here anymore."
Further ahead you see a fork in the road. "To the left is the Old Shrine. Now we can turn back now, if you wish and take the long way to avoid those pests. If you plan to take them out, be my guest, just leave me with a torch. Lone buggers won't come for me with that thing lit."
Map updated, what will you do?
"We won't put you in harms way, sir," Gamble says. "Besides, we've got a few more witnesses to round up and maybe clear our names faster."
Something about an old shrine, even to Gozreh, piques Sinan's interest.
"I say we clear them out. One of us can remain here with a torch if needs be.
"Maybe if we talk to them?"
"I can try to talk to them, maybe they will be nice. Just misunderstood."
"Valor, you've dealt with them before. Are they intelligent?"
Sinan turns to Pepper. "If you somehow think you can convince them to leave this town which might be their main food source, then so much the better. Otherwise, I'd like to rid them from this holy place."
Sinan pulls his holy symbol from around his neck and draws his sword in his other hand. "But either way, I would prefer is someone stays here with His Honor. I mean to clear them from the site."