Clover cocks an eyebrow.
It does seem like an awfully strange thing for her to have left out last time...
TYARI
"May we speak with this person?"
Oblivious to your raised eyebrows, the High Priestess shook her head.
"Well he left his apartment last night without telling anyone. He left his bed neatly made, so he'll be back sooner or later."He can’t have gone far, since his crippling condition causes him considerable physical pain and drastically limits his mobility.
“Unfortunately,” Tyari says, “I have no more insight into your investigation.
"Iomedae’s light shines on those who seek the truth, however, and you are always welcome at this Sanctuary should you need healing or other assistance from the church.
"Oh, wait. I know; you should talk to Sir Brantos, my Military Aide. He had more contact with Master Katrezra than I have."
SIR BRANTOS
Sir Brantos did notice your reactions to the High Priestess, and his attitude towards you is chilly.
Brantos said he had more frequent dealings with Katrezra, since he was largely responsible for taking care of the half-orc invalid when the chapel’s acolytes were occupied elsewhere.
Brantos knows that Katrezra’s past was painful, and that while the half-orc has no love for his full-blooded kin, the seer is a benevolent man who has a soft spot for fellow half-orcs.
According to Brantos, Katrezra has proved himself a loyal defender of Trunau on multiple occasions and has many friends in town, but Brantos does not know where the seer has vanished to.
SIR BRANTOS
Sir Brantos did notice your reactions to the Hight Priestess, and his attitude towards you is chilly.
Brantos said he had more frequent dealings with Katrezra, since he was largely responsible for taking care of the half-orc invalid when the chapel’s acolytes were occupied elsewhere.
Brantos knows that Katrezra’s past was painful, and that while the half-orc has no love for his full-blooded kin, the seer is a benevolent man who has a soft spot for fellow half-orcs.
According to Brantos, Katrezra has proved himself a loyal defender of Trunau on multiple occasions and has many friends in town, but Brantos does not know where the seer has vanished to.
"Friends in town. He's a crippled half-orc in a town of somewhat...judgemental, shall we call them...people. Roderik seemed to be unusually accepting. The likelihood is he's possibly visiting another half-orc?"
Varys definitely notices the cold reception by Sir Brantos, though he doesn't seem to care. After all, he hadn't said what he was thinking. That was an improvement over what he could have done (would have, too, as a younger man). He took that as a personal victory, thank you very much.
He does bow his head in thanks as Sister Varvatos relays the final information and excuses herself. Maybe she wasn't so useless after all! Just perhaps daft.
Nonetheless, this does present an actual lead! Not necessarily a break in the case if you will, but someone to track down!
"An injured leg should make this Katrezra somewhat easier to find. We could wait here for him to return, but I dislike waiting around. We should ask around to see if anyone else has seen him, or where he may have wandered off to."
Varys nods, seemingly satisfied for the moment, before turning back to the military aide. "Other than Rodrik, does Katrezra have any other close associates in Trunau?"
"Katrezra always made me nervous, not the leg, the ..visions. One hears stories about that sort of thing and knowing the future always goes bad in the stories."
Varys blinks at Grobradon. "Did you ever receive one of Katrezra's visions? Have you heard of them coming true?"
The half-elf jots down a few more notes in his notebook. After a few moments, he turns to an earlier page in his book, looks at Grobradon, and jots down a few notes.
Asher side-eyes his companion, before walking over to glance over the half-elf's shoulder. He chuckles, clapping the man on his back as he shakes his head with mirth.
Clover waits except for adding something for Varys's creepy notes. She figures if he's trying to investigate the investigators as well, she should be clear.
"I've not heard of Katrezra myself. We halflings tend to stick to the Ramblehouse, so if he wasn't going there regularly we wouldn't cross paths."
Asher catches a glimpse of the page before Varys closes the notebook.
Half-orc, pleasant singing, self-trained, Trunau local, good with a sword, empathetic, superstitious?
Varys blinks at Grobradon. "Did you ever receive one of Katrezra's visions? Have you heard of them coming true?"
The half-elf jots down a few more notes in his notebook. After a few moments, he turns to an earlier page in his book, looks at Grobradon, and jots down a few notes.
[dice=Bluff]1d20-2
** spoiler omitted **
"Not me, exactly... just stories. Just... the idea of the future being spilled before it's time spooks me." He seems uncomfortable about the subject
The half-elf's eyes shift up from his closed book. "Mmm, yes, spoiled." The eyes shift over to Clover and Asher, blatantly conspiratorial. "And the two of you, do you share similar fears of precognitive divination?" His writing hand twitches, and he glances at the military aide as though giving him permission to join their conversation.
Clover's face scrunches in confusion.
"What? What's that?"
"Ah yes: fear of the future. Or more specifically, knowing about it. Before it happens." Varys nods. Avoid. Jargon.
Asher face is dour. "I believed in the future too much. I'll never do that again. Some half-orcs predictions have no bearing on me."
Clover's face slackens, less confused but still puzzled.
"I've never thought about it before. Should I be?"
She seems to really want to know.
"Well that sounds ominous," Varys says in response to Asher. "I'm sure I haven't heard that story yet."
To Clover, Varys shakes his head. "Oh, I doubt it. We are living in the Age of Lost Omens where prophecies, if they occur, are much more mutable."
Grobradon also archhees a brow at Asher's comment, "I admit to curiosity myself "
Asher ignores the raised eyebrows of his companions. "Is Katrezra friends with Sara, the Shoanti-orc smith? Could he have gone there?"
"Maybe," Varys says, brushing past the investigation for the moment. He could return to that in a moment. "But you're deflecting."
To punctuate the point, Willow yawns from her perch in Varys' pocket before suddenly jumping onto Asher's head and looking down at him.
Asher grimaces, annoyed. He gently takes Willow down from his head, looks into her eyes, and pets her softly.
"Yes. I am," he sighs. "But my foolish dreams as a child don't matter right now. We're here looking for a half-orc augur, so we can find out who killed this backwater towns' bread-boy. And since his friend didn't tell Roderik, 'watch out, people are going to murder your face', I suspect he's not much of an actual, card-reading fortune-teller." Asher looks at each of them in turn. "Which means we don't have the benefit of him knowing that we're looking for him and showing up to, I don't know, help catch whoever murdered his best mate." Asher makes eye contact with Willow, speaking quietly. "Can we please deal with this now?"
"Apologies, Asher" A bit chagrinned he contributed to Asher's annoyance
Varys notes the tension and shrugs, planning to slink off to write more when he had a less-observed chance. "Fair enough," he says, thinking little of the interaction. "No harrow readings, visions of uncertain veracity, and all that hokum. Unless Sir Brantos has additional insight, we should seek out this Katrezra, and perhaps Mrs. Morningstar is a good next stop."
Asher sighs again, nodding to the bard. "Dinna fosh. My friend here—" Asher smacks Varys on the shoulder, "is insatiably curious, even when you may not want him to be." He smiles at his friend. "It tends to serve us well, when the time is right." He looks at Grobradon and Clover, and Sir Brantos, standing awkwardly behind them, "That time is not now, but perhaps someday. Should we to Clamor?"
You all make your way back over to Clamor, where Ms. Morninghawk is hammering away on a pair of horseshoes.
SARA MORNINGHAWK
Sara spots you and stops hammering.
Raising her spalling mask, she frowns.
"You guys again. What do you need?" She said suspiciously.
"We're looking for a man named Katrezra," Varys says entering the shop. "I'm not trying to imply that all of the half-orcs in town know each other, but do you know where this one likes to spend his time? He has apparently not been back to the Temple recently. There was an implication that he and Rodrik knew each other."
SARA MORNINGHAWK
"This is a place of business." She said sternly as she shut the door behind you and ushered you into a back room filled with tools and a cot.
There is an elderly half-orc there.
"Now Katreza, I really think you ought to talk to these people." She said, nodding at him.
Asher nods at the elderly man. "Katrezra. You're hiding. Which tells me you know more than we do about how or why Roderik was killed. Would you please help us out? We want to find who was responsible for this."
Well that was easier than expected.
Varys pulls out his journal and scribbles a few more notes down. Mrs. Morninghawk in particular seemed to know more than she had initially let on, but perhaps she had some reason for being evasive earlier. He nods his thanks to her.
The half-elf adds a little bit to the end of Asher's timely inquiry. "And does it have anything to do with someone named Melira?"
There were also the ghosts and the white swords to follow up on, but Varys waits, eager for an initial response.
The bard takes a slow breath as they see the elderly half orc Don't curse us. Don't curse us.
KATREZA
Katrezra was raised among the orcs of the Empty Hand tribe, and now suffers from painful afflictions and weeping sores gained from his time at the Brimstone Haruspex, an orc temple in the caldera of a smoking volcano in the Kodar Mountains, whose highly caustic fumes supposedly grant insight into the future.
Although the sulfurous gases maimed him and symptoms of his overexposure still trouble him, Katrezra gained minor oracular powers from inhaling the fumes, and he soon left the barbarous orcs to seek sanctuary in Trunau.
The elderly orc looked apprehensively at your group, then at Sara.
SARA MORNINGHAWK
Sara nodded at Katreza encouragingly.
"Go on. I've asked around; I think these outsiders are the real deal." She said.
Varys raises his brow. She had been asking about them? Well that was curious. Almost good enough to go in a book! Certainly in his own. His pen arm twitches. The real deal...
"Yes, we want to understand what happened and why. We don't believe he committed suicide, but no one can point us in a direction of proof. What do you know?"
KATREZA
"Ahm. Well, Rodrik originally approached me to ask for advice while courting Brinya Kelver.
“It is no great secret that I was cursed with preternatural visions many years ago, during my time with the Empty Hand.
"The love-struck fool —bless his soul— thought I might have some special insights into the traditions of her people or visions of their everlasting happiness... but come now, do I look like the romantic type?” He smiled wryly, then shook his head and moved on.
“I couldn’t help him with his relationship, but we gradually became close friends. It turns out we both shared a love of music and poetry.
"Recently, I’d been experiencing vivid hallucinations of white swords or crosses, and dreams of the Plague House just outside of town.
"When I told him of them, he seemed to think my dreams might help with his investigation.
"I told him about my visions as best I could, but the muse of my nightmares is as abstruse as she is unkind.
"As to what exactly Rodrik was investigating, Well to be truthful, I don’t think even he knew exactly what he was looking for.
"Rodrik had run afoul of a flood troll in the Plague House not long ago, and the poor fellow was convinced it was not just an isolated incident. "He came to me seeking guidance, and his curiosity was piqued by my visions.
"I told him that flood trolls are native to Belkzen, but they rarely roam this far south of the Flood Road.
"Since learning of his investigation, though, I have had nightmares unlike any before, and I fear that some greater evil may be at play within Trunau’s walls.
“Rodrik had plans to go back to the Plague House, but because of the unease I felt from my visions, I suggested he leave his journal with me,
which he did." He said, gripping a large handwritten tome.
"The night of his death, my visions were even more terrible, though still indecipherable.
"When news of Rodrik’s death reached me in the morning, I knew it must have been foul play, so I fled the Sanctuary, fearful that whoever targeted Rodrik would come after me as well.
"His death grieves me to no end, but at least my efforts bought me enough time to share this information with you.”
He held the book out to you.
"I pray that it helps."
The journal contains Rodrik's observations of Trunau life, sketches of people and things in and round the town, poetry fragments and musical notations to be worked up later.
The last pages took a darker turn.
How I wish I could divulge my fears and hopes
to my beloved Brinya. The risk is too great, of
course—I would hate to imp licate
her in the dire scheme I’ve only
just started to unravel. Not to
mention how much I fear her ire
over my loss of the hope knife she
gift ed me. What a fool I have been
these past few weeks.
{Sketch of Brinya, beautiful and smiling.}
I still haven’t found the
hopeknife, and whoever’s
making the replacement
at Clamor is certainly taking
her time. Katrezra was oddly
quiet when I met with him today.
When I asked for his thoug hts, he
told me to leave him be, and to give
up my foolish investigation altogether.
He was so sup portive of my mission
until now—what could
have changed his heart so?
{Sketch of a hope knife.}
Katrezra’s visions of t he
Plague House have been
getting more frequent as
the days go on. He claims
“something wicked lurks
beneath the ashes of the
past.” I’m fearful of what
his strange dreams portend,
but I b must invest igate the
Plague House ruins once
again. Tonig ht is Ruby’s
hopeknife ceremony; tomorrow
I w ill search the ashes once
more. K atrezra has recommended
he hold onto my journal for
safekeeping, and while I am hesitant
to part w ith my writ ings for
even a moment, I know his logic is sound.
{Sketch of an old church.}
Clover scratches her nose as she listens. It's a nervous tick she sometimes expresses. All the talk about visions in dreams and plots is making her uneasy, quite nervous really.
This is especially so since Varys brought up the notion of fearing 'precognitive divinations'. He did demure when she asked him if she should be afraid of them, but now he's planted a seed in her mind that has sprouted into doubtfulness about them, even if she's not entirely sure what they are. It does sound like the sort of thing Katrezra has.
Grob looks startled to learn Katreza shares an interest in music and poetry, and it gives him some courage, "He was an amazing poet." Then "Targeted. So, you don't buy the suicide either."
He reads the book, and shivers, "Somethinng wicked lurks beneath the ashes of the past."
the bard hums, without thinking about it, trying to recall old stories of the plague house.
Varys listens intently at Katrezra opens up. Finally--here was something that they could use! Many leads. It didn't necessarily blow the case wide open, but it must be useful.
The half-elf appreciates someone else who keeps so detailed a journal, and he plans to copy relevant passages and drawings into his own later. Perhaps Brinya would appreciate having the journal later, after he was done with it. Everyone liked books, right? Maybe she liked journaling as well.
"You have been very helpful," Varys says honestly. He turns to the others, recognizing that he is bringing both Sara and Katrezra into their confidence by continuing to speak in their presence. But they seemed to know most of what he knew already. He rattles off the following, breathing perhaps twice during the entire rapid-fire monologue. "To summarize, then. Rodrik Grath was investigating something in the Plague House, which Katrezra has been having nightmares about. He hid the nature of his investigation from everyone, including his fiancée, brother, and muse. He also lost his, or rather Brinya's, hope knife, and had commissed a replacement from Mrs. Morningstar. The oafish apprentice quit and did not complete the knife. Although intending to visit the Plague House again, Rodrik was found in his room with his wrists slit by an unfinished hope knife. Cham Laringfass recalled an unknown and unidentified guest visiting the Ramblehouse last night who was gone before this morning's unfortunate discovery. And in that guest's desk had an undelivered note to someone named Melira speaking of vague preparations and a meddling militia patrol captain."
He pauses, taking a deep breath. "In order to find Rodrik's murderer, we must retrace his steps back to the Plague House. Do you all concur?"
He did not have sufficient evidence so far to implicate Urnsul as the murderer, but she seemed too connected to the events to be fully uninvolved.
It had been a busy day so far, but Varys felt quite prepared to continue. If anything, he might want a bit of time to copy portions of Rodrik's journal for posterity, but he could also do that at the end of the day.
In addition to recounting the course of the investigation so far, Varys offers a bit about preparations for an encounter with a flood troll. "If Rodrik ran afoul of a flood troll, then we should be prepared with a bit of acid or fire to prevent it from regenerating. If it is near water, any injuries that we cause it will be for naught." He looks at the others. "Do any of you have cantrips, orisons, or flasks that would be beneficial in such a task? Or should we visit an apothecary to acquire some preparatory munitions first? If all else fails, I do have torches."
"I'm afraid not," He admits sheepishly, "My.. song magics don't burn or sizzle. And I have no flasks of the like"
The various traders in Trunau have stuff available for sale up to 250 crowns value.
The Plague House’s front doors sit three feet above the ground.
Charred wooden beams and ash are all that remains of a small porch and stairs that once led to the entrance.
The small windows flanking either side of the doorframe are broken but a large stained glass window dominating the face of the building to the right remains in fine shape, and shows a varicolored image of Iomedae holding her sword aloft.
