Having been called to assignment from your various posts by Venture-Captain Brackett to the village of Sauerton in the wine country part of Andoran. You have assembled in the larger city of Carpenden before making the final journal to Sauerton. Lodging has been provided at a small inn in the neighborhood of Ranette's Hill.
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Wine country! I hope I get to throw some wine in someone's face. The archmages will love that!
A bright-eyed Thassalonian young man struts in. He's chewing on some homemade taffy and holding a halberd that looks like it's older than he is.
"Ezaki Glico," he introduces himself, with an oversized bow.
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The hunched half orc unconsciously narrows her eyes. It's easy to bow when you've never really had to. She shakes her head to clear unpleasant memories, rearranging her face to be more agreeable. "Itka Biklest." She responds, nodding her head instead of bowing. She shifts her hefty cane to the other hand so she can stuff a black rat back into her pocket. "Shush you. Hmph."
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A tall, slightly awkward Garundi man appears. He laughs sheepishly at the curtness of these two, a clearly hardened warrior and a half-orc, and offers a warm smile in return. He attempts to convey confidence when he addresses them.
G-g-g-good to me you both. I'm Elsha. I take it you're the muscle? He directs this at Ezaki. Then to Itka. And what do you do? I like to mix things and solve different problems with these.
He runs his fingers along his bandolier to indicate the various concoctions tucked away in it.
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A tall but slight male humanoid figure walks in dressed in a long black hooded coat. The hood is up and his features are shrouded in darkness, making them hard to make out. His height and the way he moves suggests a human, but that misconception is quickly dispelled when he lifts the hood and lets it drop onto his back. You find yourself face-to-face with an albino elf.
You are a little unsettled as a pair of clear red eyes stare back at you with preternatural stillness from a clean shaven face whose skin is the color and smoothness of polished alabaster. A close-cropped mop of snow-white hair does nothing to hide his pointed elven ears. By human standards he seems young but when he introduces himself, it is with a weary tone that belies his apparent age. "I am Elfino."
Elfino's eyes flicker across the details of the room before settling on one of the chairs against a wall. As he sits down, his coat opens to expose clothing of the same unremittingly fuliginous color. He appears nonchalant, but his eyes are in constant motion as he surreptitiously examines his companions to assess their abilities.
And what do you do?
In turn, Elfino replies, "I am an investigator by profession. I uncover secrets that others would prefer remain hidden."
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The door suddenly bursts open and a tall well-built human woodsman with unkempt brown hair and goatee and dark brown eyes confidently strides in. He wears a thick and well-worn dark brown traveler's cloak trimmed in woodland green. A simple, well-used rapier is tucked in his belt on one hip while an old farmer's grain thresher swings from the other. However, it's the finely crafted longbow slung on his back that gets your attention. Laminated with various exotic woods that shine with a glossy finish and sporting small antlers on the ends, the bow is obviously of elven craftsmanship.
Ah. Good. Looks like I'm in the right place. He says in a deep gruff voice with a jovial grin.
Name's Brünwulf. Archer and woodsman.
He glances around at everyone.
Looks like we got some new recruits. Welcome to the Society.
He sticks out a strong dirty hand and vigorously shakes everyone's hand all around.
All I can tell ya is you're all gonna have quite the experience. Adventurin' ain't for everyone but you all answered the call. Prepare for a helluva life-long journey.
When he gets to the alabaster-skinned elf to shake his hand, Brünwulf's eyes go wide.
You alright there, lad? Looks like ya must've had a bad encounter with a ghoul. The effect never wore off, huh?
Not meaning to make the elf nervous, he waves a hand and lets out a hearty chuckle.
I mean you no ill will, lad. It was said in jest.
With a look of compassion, he leans closer to the elf and places his hand on the slight elf's shoulder.
I have a closeness with the elves in my land. A kinship. They even crafted this bow for me. Pointing over his shoulder with his thumb, he gives the elf a wink and a grin.
Brünwulf then turns to address his new companions as he stands firm with his fists on his hips.
This looks like a mighty fine group of adventurers. I'm honored to make your acquaintance.
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With a gravelly voice, Itka replies to Brünwulf: "Ditto." Turning to Elsha, she responds with a hint of sullenness: "I'm a witch. Not sure I like that, but might as well do something useful with it. ... Spells are my thing. I guess." Her brow furrows, settling her face into already deepened frown lines, as her eyes lose focus for a moment of unpleasant introspection. She snaps herself back to the present with a sudden intake of breath, her eyes sharp once again.
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Elsha blinks in surprise at the elf's appearance. As soon as Brunwulf greets him he remembers himself and looks away before anyone notices.
No end of interesting people here, I see. As long as he's not from Geb...
He pipes up in response to Brunwulf pep talk. W-w-well, I'm not exactly a fresh recruit. In fact I've been doing work in the very cold Land of the Linnorm Kings.
He shivers visibly at the mention.
Then, l-l-last time I was tasked with cutting a trade path through mountains... so I'm looking forward to some more temperate weather, being from somewhere much warmer.
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Elfino seems completely unperturbed by the woodsman's sudden entrance, and rises to his feet to shake the big man's hand. "I am Elfino, private investigator by trade. Pleased to make your acquaintance," he says in a smooth flowing voice.
When he gets to the alabaster-skinned elf to shake his hand, Brünwulf's eyes go wide.
You alright there, lad? Looks like ya must've had a bad encounter with a ghoul. The effect never wore off, huh?
Not meaning to make the elf nervous, he waves a hand and lets out a hearty chuckle.
I mean you no ill will, lad. It was said in jest.
Elfino smiles back at the archer, and waving his hand in dismissal, says, "I assure you Brünwulf that I am not in the least bit distressed by your conjecture as to the source of my appearance. I have heard far less charitable opinions on the matter than that over the years." Though the archer didn't know it, he was closer to the truth than most.
With a look of compassion, he leans closer to the elf and places his hand on the slight elf's shoulder.
I have a closeness with the elves in my land. A kinship. They even crafted this bow for me. Pointing over his shoulder with his thumb, he gives the elf a wink and a grin.
Elfino eyes Brünwulf's bow, "It is indeed an impressive weapon you have there, but perhaps a little overkill for my line of work." The albino uses his thumb to indicate the much smaller blackwood shortbow poking out of its sheath beside him, "This fellow usually does the trick for me. More accurate at the distances I generally work."
Elfino makes a mental note to follow up with Brünwulf about his elven friends. Though the odds were long, perhaps he'd find some help in solving the open question that was his parentage.
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Hmm. A shortbow. Short and... to the point. Brünwulf says with a foolish smile.
I learned to hunt with a longbow when I was just a small lad. Became the best hunter in my village.
He says proudly.
Primarily deer and wild boar. Speaking of which, I wish I had brought some of my famous Bristle-back Boar Bratwürst. After this excursion, we'll have a celebratory feast at my cabin where you all can try my bratwurst and my homemade mead which I like to call "Brünwulf's Boysenberry Bee Brew".
I'd like to try any of your culinary delights, as well. He says to the group.
I'm looking forward to purchasing some wine from this area before we leave. I heard there are some fine ale crafters here as well.
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The mention of food causes Itka's pocket to begin twitching. She shoves her hand back in there to keep its contents in place, frowning down at the wriggly bulge with a low growl of irritation in her throat. Stupid rat. Can't it tell there's no actual food?
That settled, she replies to Brünwulf: "Hmp. Well, you wouldn't like my cooking. It's edible. Barely." Too many years scrubbing floors and none in the kitchen... The sour expression on Itka's face shows just what she thinks of her own culinary skill...and the reasons for it.
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Primarily deer and wild boar. Speaking of which, I wish I had brought some of my famous Bristle-back Boar Bratwürst... and my homemade mead which I like to call "Brünwulf's Boysenberry Bee Brew".
I'd like to try any of your culinary delights, as well. He says to the group.
Elfino smiles at Brünwulf's recounting of his culinary prowess. "If nothing else, Brünwulf, you definitely have a knack for foodstuff naming alliteration. I look forward to the post-mission feast at your cabin." After a short pause in which the albino strokes his bare chin and looks into the distance in thought, he adds, "Hmm, unfortunately, my own upbringing did not prepare me for a life of food preparation and my skills in that area are woefully limited. On the other hand, if you ever find yourself hungry in Absalom, I know precisely where you can find an excellent meal at a reasonable price."
That settled, she replies to Brünwulf: "Hmp. Well, you wouldn't like my cooking. It's edible. Barely."
Elfino's lets out a short melodic laugh. "Well, Brünwulf, unless someone else speaks up, it appears that you've drawn kitchen duty for the group while we're on the road."
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The door quietly opens, and a middle-aged human man of average height steps in before he closes it just as quietly. He stands at the doorway, taking a few moments to observe the scene calmly before he enters. He walks with a staff in one hand, although it is clearly more a weapon than a walking aid. Although rather well-built, he looks rather ... weathered. As he draws nearer, you notice faint scars, as if he's seen some repeated fighting in his youth. Nonetheless, he looks at you in turn with a gentle smile, although a closer look reveals a faint haunted look in his eyes. And strangely, a faint breeze seems to have accompanied him into the room. Even though the door is firmly closed.
"Greeting. Apologies for my tardiness," the man speaks in a measured and robust voice. "My name is Zelphari Caryarus. I believe we're here to meet Thalia Andares? Looks like I got here in time." He smiles self-mockingly, before adding, "But this talk of food has gotten my hungry. I trust the grub in this inn is passable?"
Under his cloak, Zelphari wears a well-worn breastplate. Other than the staff in hand, a whip and a dagger hangs by his belt, while his hands are girded with spiked gauntlets.
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Elfino watches Zelphari enter the room and casts a practiced eye over the man. From a distance he has the whiff of a magic user about him, but as he approaches... "is he really wearing a breastplate and spiked gauntlets?" the albino thinks to himself, incredulously. "That's not something you see every day in a spellcaster. No indeed. How intriguing." He could tell it was going to be interesting watching this human in action.
"Greeting. Apologies for my tardiness," the man speaks in a measured and robust voice. "My name is Zelphari Caryarus. I believe we're here to meet Thalia Andares? Looks like I got here in time." He smiles self-mockingly, before adding, "But this talk of food has gotten my hungry. I trust the grub in this inn is passable?"
As Elfino steps over to greet Zelphari, he says, "Since you are in fact not tardy at all, there is no reason to apologize. Greetings and welcome. My name is Elfino, private investigator, and..." turning, he points out each of his companions in turn, "... this is Brünwulf, archer, woodsman and cook; Itka, uh, reluctant witch I believe; Elsha, concocter of questionable liquids, if the faint chemical scent and many vials are anything to go by; and Ezaki, a lover of taffy with an indeterminate origin. No doubt they will correct me if I got any of that wrong."
The elf investigator was still a little stumped by Ezaki. He was usually good at guessing people's origins based on their appearance and behavior, but Ezaki was proving to be an exception. This little group was full of mysteries.
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Welcome, Zelphari. Nope, you're not late at all. We're still just getting to know each other and we haven't even seen who will be giving us our mission.
Hahaha. He bellows a deep chuckle after hearing his introduction from Elfino.
I am Brunwulf, archer and party cook. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.
He steps forward extending his hand in greeting and then cocks an eyebrow when he notices the newcomer's choice of armaments.
Those gauntlets are quite impressive. And a staff instead of a blade. He says while scrutinizing Zelphari's gear.
I sure do want to see how this man handles himself in combat. Hmm. Must be a spellcaster.
He then notices tiny motes of magical energy suddenly glitter around the gauntlets then quickly fade away.
Ahh! I see you're practiced in the art of magic. Welcome aboard, Zelphari. he says with a welcoming smile.
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Well, Itka, I would be happy to teach you how to cook. It's very easy to cook over a simple campfire. Or baking with hot coals buried in the ground. I can even show you how to make the best smoked meats and cheeses using an old hollow tree stump.
He then glances over at Elsha.
I'm sure Elsha knows some great techniques he could share with us, being an expert at mixing ingredients and all.
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"...Itka, uh, reluctant witch I believe..."
Elfino's introduction both amuses Itka for its phrasing and causes her unease for its cause. "Well...to be clear...it is the patron that gave me these powers that I detest. The powers themselves...are useful. I have no problem with them."
"Well, Itka, I would be happy to teach you how to cook. It's very easy to cook over a simple campfire. Or baking with hot coals buried in the ground. I can even show you how to make the best smoked meats and cheeses using an old hollow tree stump."
Her brow furrows as Itka considers Brünwulf's offer. It's never too late to correct their wrongs. She nods thoughtfully. "Hmm. Yes. I would appreciate the lessons. ... Thanks."
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Elsha frowns curiously at his description and takes a whiff of his nearest vials. Not detecting anything out-of-the-ordinary he looks back at Elfino and shrugs.
Then his attention snaps to Brunwulf at the mention of his mixing techniques.
Err... maybe? I-I-I'm not sure if the skills transfer. I can make you something that will enhance your alertness, make you more socially smooth, or heal your wounds. But... I don't think I'll be filling any banquet halls soon. Perhaps I can ex-ex-ex-experiment on top of your basic teaching, Brunwulf. Perhaps smoked meats that enhance your alertness instead of making you want to take a nap afterward? He methodically rolls his hand to get through some of the words.
He ponders this seriously at length, never having given cooking serious consideration.
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With a slight dramatic flourish, Elfino pulls out his copy of the letter from Venture-Captain Brackett that brought them all to Carpenden. "As Zelphari mentioned, we're being sent on to Sauerton to find the remains of an old Society lodge, and our first step once we get there is to determine if the mayor, a..." he pauses slightly to look down at the letter, more for effect than anything, "... Thalia Andares, can aid us with out inquiries."
He looks around the room at his colleagues, "I suggest that we put the food at this inn to the test, and after obtaining whatever supplies we need in town, be on our way to Sauerton without undue delay. If my information is correct, we have a two or three day journey ahead of us. How does that sound to everyone?"
Elfino seems eager to get started on his new investigation.
Bellies full and comfortable beds available to those who wish to take advantage of them overnight, you are prepared to set out for Sauerton. If not the first day on the road north, certainly the second day after camping has you remembering the luxuries of Carpenden. However, the terrain is easy to travel; rolling hills after forested rolling hills speckled with smaller, family-run vineyards here or there provide the backdrop for your march. The morning after your second night on the road, you approach Sauerton.
The town of Sauerton is primarily comprised of row upon row of neatly kept vineyards, interspersed with old stone villas built in the Chelaxian style. Each plot of grapevines is accompanied by vats for crushing grapes and extruding their juice, along with a large warehouse for storing and aging the wine. The vineyards bustle with the busy hands of numerous workers, though the packed dirt and cobblestone roads have few other travelers during these industrious hours. The glint of your weapons and armor in the morning sun as well as your general motley and strange appearance catches the attention of workers nearer the road. They wave neighborly from the distance when they notice that you've caught on to their staring and go back to work.
Surveying the town from the top of a hill, you can see that the stone buildings become denser deeper into the town along the road, but otherwise there is little in the way of signage or direction.
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Upon noticing the stares of the locals, Itka's sense of alarm begins to rise. The neighborly wave as they turn back to their work seems incongruous at first. It takes her several moments to realize that these folks were just curious about the new people and not necessarily hostile, and quite a few more minutes for her sense of comfort to return. She quickens her step to remain closer to the group, deciding that she'd feel better if she didn't lag behind, regardless of the apparent friendliness of the vineyards' workers.
"Well, which one of you gentlemen is good with people? Looks like we'll have to ask for directions, but my face tends to put them off." To be fair, the sight of a cloaked, older-looking, scowly-faced, stooped half-orc woman walking with a thick, wicked-looking cane does look rather... witch-like. And witches usually have a general reputation for excessive danger and meanness.
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Ezaki strolls up to the workers with undeserved confidence. He stands up straight and puffs his chest up for the imaginary audience.
"My good friends, we are looking for Thalia Andares. Might you know where she is?"
If they hesitate even a moment to answer, Ezaki repeats Thalia's name, but more slowly, as if he is speaking a foreign language.
"Thhhhaaaaaalllliiiiaaaa Aaaannnndddaaarrreeesssss..."
As Ezaki approaches one of the workers, the man removes his dirt stained gloves and offers a handshake. "Welcome to Sauerton! What brings you folk around?"
He raises his eyebrows and smiles widely, "Ah! The mayor, yes. You can find her in the old Sauer estate. You can find it if you head straight down the road here and take a left at the well and then the second right path will take you to a large villa that looks newer than the rest--had to be rebuilt--and that's where you'll find her!"
"Third right," another worker pauses in his work to add.
The first man thinks for a moment and then nods, "Oh, I'm such a dunderhead. He's right. It's the third path on the right."
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"Well, which one of you gentlemen is good with people? Looks like we'll have to ask for directions, but my face tends to put them off."
Elfino laughs a little at Itka's question and comment. "I'm afraid that I find myself in the same boat as you, Itka. My face elicits a similar reaction from people as yours, and few chose to look past that to discover our wonderful personalities." He smiles and gives Itka a little nudge with the side of his elbow to indicate that he's joking.
"Ah! The mayor, yes. You can find her in the old Sauer estate. You can find it if you head straight down the road here and take a left at the well and then the second right path will take you to a large villa that looks newer than the rest--had to be rebuilt--and that's where you'll find her!"
"Third right," another worker pauses in his work to add.
The first man thinks for a moment and then nods, "Oh, I'm such a dunderhead. He's right. It's the third path on the right."
Elfino listens carefully to the directions. He doesn't have a lot of confidence in them being entirely accurate, so he decides to open an active investigation into the location of Thalia Andares.
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Well met, gentlefolk. Brunwulf calls out with a wave while chewing on a long reed of grass. He then approaches and shakes the worker's hand.
Name's Brünwulf. Quite the charming little town you have here. Type of place I would like to retire.
He admires the pastoral scenery around him and then repeats the directions, making sure he got them right.
Left at the well, then third path on the right. Gotcha. Thank you kindly, good sir.
Elfino confirms the directions and pulls out more reliable details from the two workers, and he leads you expertly through the town and to a large, clearly rebuild stone villa. The neighboring vineyards are sparse, and much of the land is covered in fresh loam and soil.
“Hey there, strangers!” The call comes from a human woman in her mid‑thirties with long, dark hair and an open, friendly face. “You must be the Pathfinders Brackett told me to expect. I’ve done a little digging on your behalf but haven’t turned up much yet. Why don’t you all join me on the veranda for a glass of wine while we talk about your mission here?”
She beckons you with a broad sweep of her arm and leads you to the veranda (despite whatever preferences you may have desired to voice regarding the location of the briefing). "Sit, sit," she says as she walks over to a table with several wine glasses and nearly as many bottles of red wine. She takes a glass, fills it, and hands it to one of you, then moves on to the next in line.
The wine, if you could call it that, is sour and its most redeeming quality appears to be the abundance of it available to be drunk.
Thalia takes a seat on a chaise lounge once each of you has been served (or abstained). "Now. What can I do to assist you?"
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Itka nods in thanks and sips the wine, not eager to drink too much at once. The flavor doesn't bother her, though. Decades of consuming what would cause most people to turn up their noses has caused her to be dramatically less picky about what she puts in her mouth.
"We're from the Pathfinder Society. We're looking for records of what Karinha Napsunar might have done in the area."
Swallowing ponderously, Itka adds in her rough voice: "You said you've done some digging yourself. Is it all in one area, or do you have reason to believe artifacts may be scattered around?"
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Brünwulf accepts Thalia's invitation, introduces himself, and follows her to the veranda with the rest of his group. Taking a seat, he gratefully accepts the wine. Taking a hearty gulp, he tries not to gag. With a scrunched face, he bravely swallows the mouthful of sour wine, sets the glass down, then nonchalantly slides the glass on the table away from him. If he wasn't in the presence of the town's mayor, who is also his host, he would most likely speak his mind regarding the soured wine. He keeps his composure and listens politely to the matters at hand.
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The wine, if you could call it that, is sour and its most redeeming quality appears to be the abundance of it available to be drunk.
Elfino sips the red liquid and is instantly transported back to The Soggy Piper, an old haunt of his in The Puddles of Absalom. "Ah, I'd always wondered where The Soggy Piper acquired its interminable supply of what they generously referred to as 'wine'. What a small world we live in." Despite the abominable nature of the 'wine', Elfino appears to be enjoying it, though in strict moderation.
He leans forward in the chair and begins his questioning of Thalia Andares. "Venture-Captain Brackett informs us that many years ago, one of the founders of our society, a Kerinha Napsunar, set up a temporary lodge in or near Sauerton. Our task is to discover the location of this old lodge and if possible, collect any and all remaining materials related to said lodge. Any help you and the townspeople can provide us to this end will be greatly appreciated."
Elfino examines the mayor's mien as he lets that sink in. "As you were expecting us and have started looking into the matter, it appears that the Venture-Captain already communicated some of this information to you. Has your 'digging' uncovered anything that might help us? Is there someone in town we can talk to that might know something more?"
While waiting for answers, the albino leans back more comfortably in his chair and takes another sip from his glass. In a more airy manner, he adds, "This wine has a rather interesting bouquet; it has a certain je ne sais quoi quality to it that brings back memories of an earlier life."
Thalia releases a light laugh at Elsha's question. "Goodness, me, no," she says. "Well, I mean, I'm sure some of our townsfolk must have their little secrets that they probably wouldn't want their spouse to know, but I don't think you Pathfinders are interested in that sort of gossip."
She takes a sip of wine and nods to Itka and Elfina before answering, "Frankly, I have not had much success. The Strickmund winery was built long before I was born, but from what I was able to find in old records about Sauerton, the land the lodge was built on was bought by Ven Strickmund’s great‑great‑grandfather about a hundred years ago. Apparently, Ven’s ancestor was a Pathfinder, so he might be able to tell you more. Be patient, though; Ven likes to talk and takes his time getting to the point. Particularly when he’s interrupted before he finishes his thought."
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Zelphari rather conspicuously leave the wine untouched. In fact, when he looks at it, you seem to see some wariness in his eyes.
"I see. I thank you for sharing. That might be useful." Zelphari replies warmly in his deep and reassuring voice. "As a descendant of a Pathfinder, would he naturally predisposed to us? Or should we keep that from him?"
Turning to another matter, he continues to question, "How about ancient folklore or myths in this area? Might some of them be connected to the existence of an ancient Pathfinder lodge?"
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"... the land the lodge was built on was bought by Ven Strickmund’s great‑great‑grandfather about a hundred years ago. Apparently, Ven’s ancestor was a Pathfinder, so he might be able to tell you more. Be patient, though; Ven likes to talk and takes his time getting to the point. Particularly when he’s interrupted before he finishes his thought."
Elfino's interest is piqued by this piece of information. His gut tells him that Ven Strickmund is someone who'll be able to further their inquiries concerning the old lodge. With a little luck, the site where the lodge stood hasn't been developed yet and they might still find some remains.
Elfino responds, "I believe this Ven Strickmund fellow could very well have information of use to us. Where might we find the gentleman? At the winery perhaps." He makes a mental note concerning Ven Strickmund's propensity for loquaciousness, and that he should let the fellow finish his thoughts without interruption.
Though Elfino's patience is as deep as the oceans, he sees no need to waste time unnecessarily. He waits for the conversation with the mayor to hit a natural breaking point, and says, "Thank you mayor Andares for your invaluable help, and for sharing this rather, um, memorable wine with us." He looks up to see where the sun sits, and satisfied, turns to his companions, and says, "Perhaps we should leave the mayor to her important duties and go visit Mr Strickmund before it gets too late. I am most interested to see if he knows anything that could be of help to us."
"He'll talk your ear off whether you tell him you're Pathfinders or not," Thalia says with a smile. "Ven is one of Sauerton’s oldest living residents, and a passable vintner If anyone in town can tell you anything about what the Pathfinders were doing on that land back when they still owned it, Ven will be the one. I'm not one for myths and what-not and don't know of any local ones of any significance," she confesses. "If there are any, Ven would know, though be ready to hear the history of Avistan if you ask him."
She nods at Elfino and says, "Yes. He'd be at the winery." The mayor gives you decent directions to the winery from her villa.
"And no, there's nobody here that would harm a fly, so don't worry about any of Sauerton's folk!"
Having been given Mayor Andares' most useful and only lead to the history of the area, you make your way to the winery to speak with Ven Strickmund, racing the sun to the noon mark.
A winery rests on the hilltop ahead, surrounded by fields with neatly ordered rows upon rows of grape vines and trellises. The winery is built of dark, well-polished wood, the steps leading to the front door grooved with the passage of many feet.
An elderly human man with a long gray beard sits on a rocking chair in the shade of the covered deck at the front of the winery. He waves vigorously as you approach and shouts, "Well, ’ello there friends! Welcome t’ Sauerton! Grab a chair and sit a spell!" When he speaks, you can tell that his teeth are faintly tinted magenta.
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Townsfolk with secrets? Brünwulf replies with a chuckle.
That's what Pathfinders do best... Uncovering secrets. I'm sure we'll be able to find some information.
Brunwulf then listens to the many questions his companions offer. However, being not much of a socializer, he does pay attention.
Not wanting to feel like he's ignoring the conversation, he pipes up.
Excellent. This Strickmund fellow sounds like the best source of information we need.
Then feels slightly embarrassed for repeating pretty much what Elfino had said.
Thank you for the hospitality, Miss Andares. It's been a pleasure. He says politely as the group leaves the mayor's manor.
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Brünwulf waves to the old man as he walks towards the winery.
Well met, sir. Miss Andares told us we could find a Mister Strickmund this way. Would you happen to be him? he says with a warm smile.
"I would be, I would! Come, sit. Who might you all be?" the old man asks with a friendly manner. Once you have each introduced yourselves, he begins speaking again. "How do you like the weather today in Sauerton? It's not always so nice but it usually is. You know, a week ago we had this wicked rain storm pass thro--No, no. Wait. Was it a week ago? No, I'm sorry. I meant to say two weeks ago we had this wicked rain storm pass through. The wind was so fierce, nearly took off my roof, I say, and the lightning and thunder shook my bottles half out of their cabinets. Only lasted but a short while. Why the last time we had any weather so rough was at least two years ago when..."
He continues describing the weather for as long as you allow him until you interrupt him.
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Brünwulf interrupts the old man to get straight to the point. Hoping to not agitate the man, he speaks in a pleasant tone, even with his gruff voice.
We're here to learn more about the Pathfinders that owned the land here before you did. We heard from Andares that you'd be the one that knows what was going on here. I beg you kindly, sir, it's very important that we learn what you know.
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I-i-it seems like you have a lot of history and lore to proffer yourself. If I didn't know better I'd say you were still a Pathfinder yourself.
Elsha smiles at the kindly old man.
Did you get to obtain any of your knowledge from, say, some chronicles or records that were handed down to you from the old lodge?
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Fighting a mischievous smirk that threatens to reveal itself on her features, Itka adds: "And we want to hear everything you know, so please, take your time." She then sinks back into her seat with a minor coughing fit, eyes twinkling.
Elfino looks over at Itka and with a slight frown, raises one of his eyebrows as if to say, "really?" But he suspects that Itka is just being playfully impish and flashes her a quick grin. Elfino's patience may be as deep as the oceans, but he'd hoped the old man wouldn't try to plumb them.
Expecting to be sitting there for a while, he makes himself comfortable in one of the chairs and waits for Strickmund to tell them something useful.
If the old man has not yet, Ven certainly will plumb the depths of Elfino's patience before the day is out.
"Oh, what, I, who," the elder Strickmund sputters and flushes as Brunwulf interrupts him. "I say, why is the younger generation always in such a hurry to get to the point? When you get to the point, then the conversation is over." It is apparently lost on Ven that his lengthy monologues do not meet the definition of a conversation. "I say, I ought--Oh, what's that? Well, yes, I do know a lot about that. Oh, a Pathfinder? Me!? Oh, ho ho. You're too kind. I suppose I'm probably too old to join the ranks of you adventurer explorers."
He leans back in his rocker and sighs, apparently forgetting whatever offense he had taken from Brunwulf's interruption (and unfairly taking no offense at Itka's nor Elsha's interruption of his rant).
"We've been making passable wine here since before it was a proper town," Ven begins. He rambles on about the history of the town and its founding for so long that you are likely getting antsy, fidgety, thirst, hungry, and probably need to go find a latrine or tree. "Well, round ’bout a hunnerd years or so ago, my pappy’s pappy’s pappy’s pappy bought this here land from a feller from the Pathfinder Society. Got a great deal too, on account of how he was a Pathfinder hisself. My pappy’s pappy’s pappy’s pappy that is, of course the fella sellin’ the land was a Pathfinder as well. Anyways, this wasn’t a great place for a lodge at the time; too much a goin’ on, too many folks riled up about Pathfinders.
"Your group hasn’t always had the best reputation in all parts, though yer allus welcome ’round here. Where was I? Right, right, the old lodge. It was a big t’do at the time, on account of the money from the sale of this here estate being used to buy the deed to Diggen’s Rest, an ol’ keep ’bout a hunnerd miles east o’ here. Folks ’round these parts know the stories ’bout the battles and such fought ’round there back during the empire days, an’ suppose’dly there was e’en a ghost or some such. Pathfinders at the time figgered it was a proper place to move their books an’ such. Ghosts tend to keep the vis’ters away, y’know? Funny thing is, I don’t know as that Pathfinder ever came back through here. Maybe they’s still out at Diggen’s Rest, maybe they went somewhere else? Yer best bet’s probably to go look for yerself. I kin mark it on a map fer ya, or close ’nough, and I’m sure you can get supplies fer the hike here in town."
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Despite his care in selecting a chair, the seat in which Elfino found himself was clearly not designed to remain comfortable for more than an hour or so. By the time the second hour had passed, his buttocks had lost all feeling and his lower back was beginning to send out dangerous warning signals of impending failure. By the time the old man finally coughed up the information they had come for, only the albino's amazing willpower was keeping him from running screaming into the surrounding vineyards.
All that changes as soon as Strickmund drops the bomb about the move of the lodge from Sauerton to Diggen’s Rest. Elfino snaps to attention; his discomfort instantly forgotten. He leans forward and listens carefully to everything the old man says.
"This relocation of the lodge is news to us, and exciting news at that," says the elf. He deftly reaches into his coat and whips out the map that got them to Sauerton. He quickly pops it down in front of the old man before he has a chance to take off on another tangent. Once the map is marked, Elfino returns it to his coat, and with no small trepidation, asks through gritted teeth, "Is there anything more you can tells us about these Pathfinders or the lodge?"
As soon as Elfino is sure that the old fellow has told them everything that might be of value concerning the old Pathfinders and their lodge, he stands up a little unsteadily, and says, "Thank you for your company Mr Strickmund, and for sharing your invaluable memories with us. But, I fear that we've taken too much of your valuable time already, and we must begin preparations for our excursion to Diggen’s Rest." While he's talking, the albino's hands are making urgent stand up motions behind his back to the others. With a little luck they can escape this place before Strickmund's attentions trap them there for any longer.
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As soon as Ezaki hears "Yer best bet’s probably to go look for yerself," he stands up, raring to go. But then realizing he was a bit premature, he sits back down, just as Elfino motions for everyone to stand back up, and Ezaki is left sitting down while everyone stands.
"By Belimarius's Beard!" he curses as he stands back up, following the crowd out.
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Slaves are used to discomfort, so this has been a downright pleasant afternoon for Itka, sitting around doing nothing but listen to mildly interesting stories with no fear. More than once, she releases a contented sigh, grateful for the wonderfully simple life of a Pathfinder. When it's time to go, she uses her cane to help heave herself stiffly to her feet. She inclines her head (Not bows! Inclines!) to the old man, thanking him for his hospitality. "You sir, are the best storyteller I've heard in a long while. Before we leave town, do you know of any spots around here where we might find anything they left behind?" 'Course, he's the only one I've heard talking "for a long while."
"Oh, why, yes! I've got all sorts o' stories about my pappy’s pappy’s pappy’s pappy handed down through the generations. They liked to tell o' this one time..." And so you learn of Ven Strickmund's pappy’s pappy’s pappy’s pappy's adventure into Cheliax searching for a lost artifact from when Aroden was mortal. You're not entirely certain if he found it and lost it or found it and hid it or never found it confused by the circular storytelling and Ven's frequent self-corrections. So passes another half of an hour before you find an exit.
"Well, thank you for the compliment. Nice to be appreciated for the wisdom one acquires over the years. Unfortunately, no, I don't think nothing was left in town," Ven answers Ikta. "If you ever want to come back and here more stories about my pappy’s pappy’s pappy’s pappy, you just come on back, a'ight? In fact, if y'all want to stay the night and listen to more now..?"
You escape quite stiff and hungry, having missed lunch, and with the sun now solidly on its way to dinner time.