"Oh aye?" Roger seems interested with Constantine mentions his own travels. "I wasn't much for inland and upland, so I'd be a fair ear for any tales of yer own."
But more onto the question, he smiles wide "Oh, what goods a lifetime of stories to tell if you ain't got anyone to tell 'em to? You'd think folks'd be a captive audience on a ship, but yer shipmates all lived through the same stories, so that's no fun. And, to tell the truth just between us-" Roger leans in conspiratorially, "I've seen more men jump overboard than leave this sleepy old town! Gahahaa! Home's a fine place to be after you've enjoyed your youth. Born and raised here I was, tho t'was the sea what made me a man instead of a boy." Roger laughs at his own joke and slaps Constantine on the shoulder.
"Aw, don't sell yourself short Connie, ye got more than words! Look at these fine muscles, fiercer firepower than a galleon of cannons, I say our boy could wrestle an owlbear!" Roger 'helps' by grabbing one of Constantine's arms and pulling down the sleeve to further show of his physique. He bulges one of his own biceps next to it for comparison.
(Emma, Talon)
Gunty's set jaw and grim expression turns into a slightly startled look when Emma begins to speak-- but as she talks, his countenance slowly eases, and the foreboding, scarred man takes on a more melancholy air as she speaks respectfully of the dead, and the survivors alike. He heaves a sigh and rubs at the back of his neck a moment, staring out the bakery's front window and into the middle distance.
"Gwerin, aye? I knew a Gwerin, in the Battle at Three Rivers... but might've been a kinsman, not the one you speak of. Well.... it's something, that all the sacrifices haven't been forgotten already..."
The baker hooks his thumbs into the pockets of his apron, pensive now rather than angry. He shakes his head absently at Talon's offer, and is silent a moment before he continues:
"The 'pprentices all complain I'm too damn strict, but we lost too many souls in the wars due to laxness. Yeh've got to keep your gear in order every day, do the clean-up every day, or yeh make mistakes, and mistakes get folk killed. But 'tis true I was hard on the girl, and so now she's off sulking, I imagine. I hear several others are missing-- well they're all friends, Noemi and these others-- and I wouldn't be surprised if they intended me some sort of mischief or prank, to salve her ego and 'get revenge on the tyrant' or however they call me.
"The last two nights I've heard a damned buzzin' in the wee hours, and seen spots of light in the sky. I took up me axe and went after them-- followed 'em to the orchard-- intended to go in and teach those younguns a thing or two-- but I lost track of them once in the trees. Couldn't find anything, and it was too dark to be fecking about hunting teenagers...
"Beyond that, I don't ken what to tell yeh. Noemi's not a bad girl, but some of those others, they're shifty, lazy sorts."
(Roger, Constantine)
Roger's attempt to try and impress by hoisting Constantine's arm-- at the tail end of Constantine's more intellectual approach-- earns him a withering glare from Alcie, who shakes her head before looking back to Constantine.
"Well.... for an outsider, you seem to grasp the lay of the town well enough," she says in a reluctantly-impressed way. "You've a quick mind, to grasp all that an' you being new to town."
She seems to debate with herself a moment, then shrugs her brawny shoulders and steps back inside the pub, with a gesture of one hand that seems to mean 'come on'. Roger is apparently granted sufferance by proxmity.
At the counter, Alcie tosses Roger's mug into a basin to soak, and busies herself with wiping out some other mugs with a bar-rag. The tavern is lightly busy, with preparation for heavier evening crowds taking place. Alcie speaks quietly across the counter to Constantine (and Roger).
"Morvie is a big lad," she says after a bit. "Tall, strapping. Good at dealing with the riff-raff here, and the sort who always stands up for an underdog. Him and the others he hangs around with-- he was always acting the da to them, keepin' em out of trouble. Worries me he's missin', and them too. I expect there's some damned magic at the root of it, but I'll bet you the wages he's not here making that he's doing his best to try and haul them all out of the trouble. That would be like him."
She hesitates again, her heavy brows furrowed, then gives a little shrug and rummages into the pockets of her heavy apron. "He's a responsible lad, wouldn't skive off for a prank, not like some of the others. And I found this with his things."
She passes over a short, crumpled note.
(Sirio, Hannelia)
"...You can start by just telling us the last time you saw her."
"Oh, can I?" the haberdasher say somewhat waspishly. The flicker of concern that had crossed his face at the mention of other disappearances vanishes under a look of pique. "And who are you, to be telling me what I can and cannot do, you-- Asmodean? Have you authority here in Saringallow? Things are going to Hell around here indeed, if you do.
"Now, I've a business to run. Without my daughter, who is probably getting herself knocked up as we speak. I see no reason to spend more time with you people."
"Oh, can I?" the haberdasher say somewhat waspishly. The flicker of concern that had crossed his face at the mention of other disappearances vanishes under a look of pique. "And who are you, to be telling me what I can and cannot do, you-- Asmodean? Have you authority here in Saringallow? Things are going to Hell around here indeed, if you do."Now, I've a business to run. Without my daughter, who is probably getting herself knocked up as we speak. I see no reason to spend more time with you people."
"Desna grant me favour," mutters Hannelia under her breath in the face of the man's rudeness, "and patience."
"Sure," she says coolly, "we'll leave you to it then. If Betrona has run away, well with such wonderful company" - she flicks her hands outwards in a 'look at this' gesture - "who could blame her? And if she hasn't, we're offering you help and you can't even manage basic politeness. Way I see it, there's not exactly a lot of other people queuing up to help you." She looks around the shop, taking in the uneven piles of clothing and battered hats. "In fact I'm not seeing a lot of people here at all."
She turns and moves towards the door. "Come on Sirio, we're clearly wasting our time here."
"Hmm, best be figuring out the usual place. That'd be my wager." Roger strokes his beard as he ponders the implications of the note. Now there's proof of sorts that all the disappearances are linked.
Sirio feels anger boil up inside him at the old man’s snide remarks. Ingrate! he thought. But this is not the Hell Knight way. He would have to punish himself later if he let his emotions slip. He could feel Quepno mocking his frustration. Thankfully she couldn’t speak.
Sirio heaves a deep sigh, ”Hannelia, wait. We have to tell him.”
He pauses for a moment, to allow Petrello’s curiosity and anxiety to reel him in. He gave a secretive wink to Hannelia, signalling her to play along.
”Mr. Petrello, you’ve no doubt heard the rumors of the gargantuan insects plaguing the town?” Sirio inquires.
”I’ve heard disturbing reports. Wasps the size of wolves carrying off children. Horse-sized spiders and centipedes savaging unsuspecting travelers. Obviously, they may not be true, but stranger things have happened. And more brutal, as we should all be familiar with.”
I cannot divulge more information, as I am bound to discretion to Mayor Trinelli. Suffice to say, we have very strong reasons to suspect that your daughter may be taken or dead. You may have the information we need to find her, even if you do not yet realize it. If you do not cooperate, and she dies, Mr. Petrello, it is on your hands.””
Petrellano had half-turned to return to the back of the shop-- but Sirio's intense words give him pause. The thin man hesitates... then slowly turns back.
"Insects?" he says, querulously. "No, no, surely not... Betrona's only off with her wretched friends, I'm sure of it..."
He frowns, wringing his hands a bit, and shifting his weight foot to foot. "She's off with that damn boy from the apothecary, if I had to wager. Gellion, is that his name? He's a troublemaker, and just the sort to lure a good girl like Betrona away from her duties. I forbid her to see him any further-- but she didn't listen! If only she had listened to her father--"
He bites his lip a moment longer. "I don't know where they all hang out and get up to their mischief, but I've seen that useless boy going to the old graveyard. I don't doubt he's doing something-- something unholy!"
(Emma, Talon)
Gunty's set jaw and grim expression turns into a slightly startled look when Emma begins to speak-- but as she talks, his countenance slowly eases, and the foreboding, scarred man takes on a more melancholy air as she speaks respectfully of the dead, and the survivors alike. He heaves a sigh and rubs at the back of his neck a moment, staring out the bakery's front window and into the middle distance.
"Gwerin, aye? I knew a Gwerin, in the Battle at Three Rivers... but might've been a kinsman, not the one you speak of. Well.... it's something, that all the sacrifices haven't been forgotten already..."
The baker hooks his thumbs into the pockets of his apron, pensive now rather than angry. He shakes his head absently at Talon's offer, and is silent a moment before he continues:
"The 'pprentices all complain I'm too damn strict, but we lost too many souls in the wars due to laxness. Yeh've got to keep your gear in order every day, do the clean-up every day, or yeh make mistakes, and mistakes get folk killed. But 'tis true I was hard on the girl, and so now she's off sulking, I imagine. I hear several others are missing-- well they're all friends, Noemi and these others-- and I wouldn't be surprised if they intended me some sort of mischief or prank, to salve her ego and 'get revenge on the tyrant' or however they call me.
"The last two nights I've heard a damned buzzin' in the wee hours, and seen spots of light in the sky. I took up me axe and went after them-- followed 'em to the orchard-- intended to go in and teach those younguns a thing or two-- but I lost track of them once in the trees. Couldn't find anything, and it was too dark to be fecking about hunting teenagers...
"Beyond that, I don't ken what to tell yeh. Noemi's not a bad girl, but some of those others, they're shifty, lazy sorts."
"The spots and buzzing led you to the orchard, you say? Hmmm." Talon arches a slender eyebrow. "That's the second time today we've heard folk taking about that grove of trees and odd going's on. A few town folk mentioned seeing massive spider webs strung between the branches..." The half-elf pauses, hoping to lead the baker into saying more.
Petrellano had half-turned to return to the back of the shop-- but Sirio's intense words give him pause. The thin man hesitates... then slowly turns back.
"Insects?" he says, querulously. "No, no, surely not... Betrona's only off with her wretched friends, I'm sure of it..."
He frowns, wringing his hands a bit, and shifting his weight foot to foot. "She's off with that damn boy from the apothecary, if I had to wager. Gellion, is that his name? He's a troublemaker, and just the sort to lure a good girl like Betrona away from her duties. I forbid her to see him any further-- but she didn't listen! If only she had listened to her father--"
He bites his lip a moment longer. "I don't know where they all hang out and get up to their mischief, but I've seen that useless boy going to the old graveyard. I don't doubt he's doing something-- something unholy!"
"Gellion is the Apothecary's apprentice then? And you say he's been spending time in the graveyard... interesting." Sirio repeats pensively.
Sirio asks, "Can you tell me how long ago she disappeared? And did Betrona ever go with Gellion to the graveyard? And are you aware of any other children spending time with this 'Gellion'?"
The baker frowns and crosses his burly arms. "Didn't see any spiderwebs that I recall. Mostly just saw rottin' apples since most folk just grab them from the trees that're east to get to. Don't know what more I could say than that."
*********
"Yes, that terrible boy works at the apothecary, if you can call that working..."
"Betrona-- over a week ago," he mutters, and digs out a shabby-looking handkerchief to wipe sweat from his forehead. "Eight... no... nine, nine days, it was the day we had the shipment of wool and she wasn't in her room... eh? The others? Yes, of course there are others-- they are all of an age, apprentices, most of them orphans, except for Betrona and... and... Pavolus."
A series of complicated expressions twist over the haberdasher's thin face, and he exhales forcefully after a few seconds. "My... my son. Have you spoken with-- with-- Drummady then?"
Emma nods politely to Gunty. "Thank you Mr. Gunty, for your time and for answering our questions."
The grumpy baker was definitely not the most charismatic of people. Even though he grumbled and complained, he had at least given them some things to think about and some information to share with the others. Of course, the fact that there might be more truth to the stories of large insects wasn't exactly heartening...though she supposed that there could be other sources of the buzzing. Either way, it wasn't likely to be good, and would warrant further investigation after checking in with the others.
The clerk stands still, eyes darting between Gunty and Emma and Talon, as though afraid speaking might break the spell and bring the grumpy wrath down upon them. Emma glances over at Talon, shrugging apologetically.
"Erm, there was one more thing," she said, directing her attention to the clerk. She brings out her purse. "The smell of the bread is quite intoxicating, and I'd hate to have taken up some of your time without actually making a purchase. I was hoping to buy enough for several people, if that would be alright?" She thought of the others. Everyone liked bread right? Who couldn't like such a staple, and particularly bread that smelled so good? She aims a smile at Talon hesitantly. "My treat."
Constantine bristles at Roger's familiarity with using Connie, though his glance in response doesn't have the same level of withering intimidation that Alcie musters. Especially since Roger is trying to be helpful. Constantine recognizes his own strength, augmented as it may be through...other means.
"I would prefer not to run into an Owlbear, at least while on this assignment, but I appreciate your point, Roger."
Alcie does seem at least mildly impressed, though, which pleases the out-of-towner. Constantine had been able to update the relative encyclopedic knowledge from books he had read about this town due to Roger's stories. Filter some of that through a grain-of-salt approach given the man's propensity for tall tales, and it seemed that Constantine had a reasonable handle on the overall comings and goings. As Alcie hands him a note, however, it does little to help elucidate the matter of Morvinarr's location.
"The usual place," he says in a low, almost-hush. "Do you know where the lad likes to spend his time when not here making wages? Or what he likes to get up to when he's not ensuring his friends stay out of trouble?"
Constantine fishes into his coin pouch and places on the counter, looking to prove that he is a man of his word. It's no use getting drunk at this time of day, when there is more to be done, but he doesn't want to keep Alcie's attention and possibility of making money from other customers without due recompense.
"Erm, there was one more thing," she said, directing her attention to the clerk. She brings out her purse. "The smell of the bread is quite intoxicating, and I'd hate to have taken up some of your time without actually making a purchase. I was hoping to buy enough for several people, if that would be alright?" She thought of the others. Everyone liked bread right? Who couldn't like such a staple, and particularly bread that smelled so good? She aims a smile at Talon hesitantly. "My treat."
Talon thanks Gunty and then grins at his companion, "I knew I was going to like you, Lady Emma."
When the clerk eventually bundles up the loaves, the half-elf offers his help in carrying the bread.
Gunty snorts a bit at the offer to buy bread. "Aye, the boy'll set you up. Back to work for me, then." And he disappears back through the door to the staff area.
The clerk offers Emma a shy smile, and willingly her a cotton sack full of freshly-baked rolls and loaves of bread. "Here, these are some of our best sellers..."
With the smell of bread wafting between the two of them, Emma and Talon realize they should hurry to the rendezvous point to meet with the others...
******
At the Witch's End, Alcie shakes her head in regards to Constantine's question. "Don't really know where he and his friends would go so much other than here-- the lot of them would come here to drink and hear tall tales and get a free drink from Morvie when he didn't think I was lookin'." She snorts a bit.
"Beyond that, couldn't tell ya. What he does when he's on his own time is his business, not mine." Alcie eyes the coins then scoops them off the bar into her big hand. "Well, come back for a drink yah've paid for in advance then, if you've got the time. Best of luck lookin' for the lads and lasses."
******
"Yes, that terrible boy works at the apothecary, if you can call that working..."
"Betrona-- over a week ago," he mutters, and digs out a shabby-looking handkerchief to wipe sweat from his forehead. "Eight... no... nine, nine days, it was the day we had the shipment of wool and she wasn't in her room... eh? The others? Yes, of course there are others-- they are all of an age, apprentices, most of them orphans, except for Betrona and... and... Pavolus."
A series of complicated expressions twist over the haberdasher's thin face, and he exhales forcefully after a few seconds. "My... my son. Have you spoken with-- with-- Drummady then?"
"Eight or nine days... Several other apprentices... Pavolus... Drummady Sirio murmurs pensively in continuance of a theme. Committing things to memory would have been easier if he'd thought to bring paper and pen for this interview.
Then he queries Petrello, "Drummady is your son then? He is... the cobbler, correct? Ahh yes, and his apprentice is Pavolus, I remember. He's another of the missing children. We haven't spoken with him yet, no. Pavolus and Betrona both spent time together with this Gellion then? He's also not an orphan then?" He tilts his head toward Hannelia and says, "We may want to interview the boy's parents"
"Now Mr. Petrello, are Betrona and Drummady close? He pauses to give the elder hatmaker a chance to respond.
"If you can think of anything else before we move on, I would loathe to have missed any key detail you may have forgotten. We have several interviews to conduct today so if that is all we would like to move on."
Constantine flashes a smile at Alcie.
Pay it forward. An implicit contract. How...Asmodean.
"I'm sure I'll be back later this evening. Thank you for the information and your time."
He slides off the stool at the bar and looks over at Roger. "Let's go outside." Once back out in the light of day, Constantine wonders whether the pirate had ever spent a shorter time in that tavern. Probabilities being what they are, he had probably neglected to pay some tab somewhere, even here, and been thrown out upon entering the threshold. But this had to have been one of the shorter visits.
"Before we try to find the usual place, we should gather additional clues about some of the other missing. If the others are having a modicum of the luck that we are, then we may be able to piece the puzzle together upon meeting."
The temple, the apothecary, or the cobbler? The idea of an Asmodean darkening the door of Old Deadeye was hilarious enough that he almost wanted to skip the information searching and go to be a fly on the wall. But that was not a good use of time.
"Unless you have a different preference, I do believe that I would like to visit the apothecary next."
"Eight or nine days... Several other apprentices... Pavolus... Drummady Sirio murmurs pensively in continuance of a theme. Committing things to memory would have been easier if he'd thought to bring paper and pen for this interview.
Then he queries Petrello, "Drummady is your son then? He is... the cobbler, correct? Ahh yes, and his apprentice is Pavolus, I remember. He's another of the missing children. We haven't spoken with him yet, no. Pavolus and Betrona both spent time together with this Gellion then? He's also not an orphan then?" He tilts his head toward Hannelia and says, "We may want to interview the boy's parents"
"Now Mr. Petrello, are Betrona and Drummady close? He pauses to give the elder hatmaker a chance to respond.
"If you can think of anything else before we move on, I would loathe to have missed any key detail you may have forgotten. We have several interviews to conduct today so if that is all we would like to move on."
"No, no-- Pavolus is my son," Petrello says with a pinch at the bridge of his nose. "Drummady is my-- former wife. At one point we were in business together. It is an unpleasant, and private, matter!
"But she IS a careless woman, much too lax-- if I had my way, neither of the children would have been around those other lazy, feckless youths! But Betrona lives with me, and Pavolus with her, so what can I do about the boy? I can't enforce rules at a distance!
"Mark my words, if the children have come to harm, then Drummady bears some of the blame, for letting them keep such terrible company!" Petrellano huffs. "As for close, well, Betrona goes over once a week to Drummady's, to take the Sun's Day meal with her mother and brother.
"I believe Gellion is a war-orphan, I couldn't say for certain." The cobbler waves a hand dismissively. Oblivious to whom he speaks, he continues, "Those children never turn out any good, you know, without parents to steer them right. A pity."
"I cannot think of anything else that could be relevant to your searching. But if what you say is true about-- about-- insects-- then-- then I pray that you do find her," he finishes, unhappily wringing his hands.
"No, no-- Pavolus is my son," Petrello says with a pinch at the bridge of his nose. "Drummady is my-- former wife. At one point we were in business together. It is an unpleasant, and private, matter!"But she IS a careless woman, much too lax-- if I had my way, neither of the children would have been around those other lazy, feckless youths! But Betrona lives with me, and Pavolus with her, so what can I do about the boy? I can't enforce rules at a distance!
"Mark my words, if the children have come to harm, then Drummady bears some of the blame, for letting them keep such terrible company!" Petrellano huffs. "As for close, well, Betrona goes over once a week to Drummady's, to take the Sun's Day meal with her mother and brother.
"I believe Gellion is a war-orphan, I couldn't say for certain." The cobbler waves a hand dismissively. Oblivious to whom he speaks, he continues, "Those children never turn out any good, you know, without parents to steer them right. A pity."
"I cannot think of anything else that could be relevant to your searching. But if what you say is true about-- about-- insects-- then-- then I pray that you do find her," he finishes, unhappily wringing his hands.
Hannelia is rather taken aback by Petrello's outpouring of information, though she tries her best to mask this and feels that the man is distracted by the emotion of what he's saying to notice anyway. She had thought that they were not going to get anything here after her attempts to goad the clothier into opening up. However, she eyes Sirio with respect for bringing about the man's complete about-turn and it seems that the information is simply flowing out of him now.
"One of the joys of being young," she says, momentarily reflecting on her youthful escapades, "is having the opportunity to make mistakes and recover from them. They may do stupid things but that's not the same as being stupid," she continues, feeling somewhat obliged to defend the youngsters in the face of parental tyranny. She looks at Petrello's body language, radiating guilt and fear. Or maybe, she considers, overbearing as it is, it's simply poorly-expressed care. I've only ever been on one side of this equation after all.
"Finding them all - quickly, given the potential dangers - is our top priority. You've been very helpful here Mr Pindlion, we have some leads on who they run with and where they might be. Unless you have anything else that would be useful, we should probably make a move; we have lots of other people to speak to." Pausing, she finishes before adding, "If you need us, you can leave word at the Witch's End, or my place is in the south-west of the city, not far from Saringallow Sundries." She glances at Sirio, in case he has any further questions before they leave.
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"No, no-- Pavolus is my son," Petrello says with a pinch at the bridge of his nose. "Drummady is my-- former wife. At one point we were in business together. It is an unpleasant, and private, matter!
"But she IS a careless woman, much too lax-- if I had my way, neither of the children would have been around those other lazy, feckless youths! But Betrona lives with me, and Pavolus with her, so what can I do about the boy? I can't enforce rules at a distance!
"Mark my words, if the children have come to harm, then Drummady bears some of the blame, for letting them keep such terrible company!" Petrellano huffs. "As for close, well, Betrona goes over once a week to Drummady's, to take the Sun's Day meal with her mother and brother.
"I believe Gellion is a war-orphan, I couldn't say for certain." The cobbler waves a hand dismissively. Oblivious to whom he speaks, he continues, "Those children never turn out any good, you know, without parents to steer them right. A pity."
"I cannot think of anything else that could be relevant to your searching. But if what you say is true about-- about-- insects-- then-- then I pray that you do find her," he finishes, unhappily wringing his hands.
"...a war-orphan... Those children never turn out any good, you know, without parents to steer them right. A pity."
"You children will never turn out well if you do not obey."
Sirio could hear the Sister scold, but he was too dazed to respond. "If you do not turn out well, The Sisterhood and Asmodeus will have no use for you. You will be discarded like the rubbish you were before this life." He heard the next blow almost more than he felt it, both of his eyes were swelling, and he knew he was dissociating from his body like another onlooker.
The pain crystalized and brought him back down to his body when his gut was pierced. "Pay attention. Now is not the time to rest." He wouldn't die from the blood loss, he knew, Sister Leyva would never allow it. She dragged him up from the floor where he lay and forced him to his knees and held him by his chin.
"You would do well to learn from this, child. Always remember the pain when you consider disobedience." Sister Eiseth Leya purred.
"Pain is what makes us strong, boy. If you can survive it, I sense much potential in you." She murmured while stroking his cheek with her other hand. He felt sickened and comforted at the same time. He craved that little praise, but he hated himself for wanting it. He could hear her turn away and command one of the other children, "Clean him up, make sure he eats his supper, he'll need it for tomorrow."
He felt rage boil under his skin at the humiliation and injustice.
Sirio knits his brow in concentration, trying to stay focused on the present.
"I see." Sirio says blankly. He already hadn't liked the fellow from his earlier obstinacy. He knew he shouldn't take it personally. The frail gray man couldn't have known. But he felt the fire of old wounds stoke in his belly.
"About your wife. It's no longer a private matter. I need to know about what happened. It will give us clues about the girl's disappearance. Locations, dates, and items, everything is a clue. Leave nothing out." Sirio grunts. It didn't really matter for the investigation. He already knew things were strained in the man's family but he wanted to twist the knife. Just to hurt him by making him relive the past.
He would really have to punish himself now for wasting precious time.
Petrello gapes a bit at Sirio, and seems on the verge of finding his earlier attitude and refusal.... vs his current worries. He hesitates.... and then sits heavily behind the counter, and begins to glumly relate the demise of his marriage, the splitting of his household....
It seems Constantine had found a method to get Roger out of the negotiations with the promise of drink. Roger had been rubbing his hands together, ready for his drink only for it to be snatched away. With a sigh, he followed Constantine out.
"Aye, good as any for me." Despite having strong opinions about the first destination, for some reason Roger seemed ambivalent about the second. "Hope no one else got the same thought. Shame we didn't think to split up the second place for each team."
"Mayhaps we should swing by my place after so I can pick up a piece to swing. I'm sure I've a trophy or two somewhere left. Now that I'm sure something foul's afoot, best be ready for it." He strokes his beard as perhaps, once a wise idea comes to him.
Talon and Emma, however, have used all of this particular 'investigation slot' since they also spent time in Gathering Info. Of course, that also gives them time to RP if they want!
Offering to carry the cotton sack, the ranger nods farewell, and then says to Emma, "It is getting late. We've been gone awhile. Mayhaps we should make our way back to find the others?" He allows her to proceed him out the door...unless she gives some clue that she would be offended by this gesture.
Leaving the establishment, Talon snatches out one of the smaller rolls, and then another, offering it to Lady Blackford. He then proceeds to munch contentedly upon his own. "We get first pick. A finder's tax, I call it. Or a Hunter's fee. Yes, I think I like that better."
"Have to make sure they are poisoned and what not..." He grins at the armored paladin, and then asks, "So tell me, Lady Emma. What brings you to our fair haven? Surely not merely the Mayor's call? Her reach can't be that far, eh?
Constantine looks askance at Roger. A piece to swing? What ever might he mean by that? Trophy clarifies the matter a bit, and given the pirate's life, a cutlass mighty be in ride order. Better that than a common club, however deadly one might be in the hands of a trained warrior. And was this old soul a trained warrior? Or just a bearded, liquored memory of one? Constantine hopes that they won't have to find out. Sure as Roger is that there is funny business going on, Constantine remains agnostic on the matter.
"Yes, of course. It is probably not prudent for the common person to walk about town openly and brazenly wielding a weapon of war. Pray we do not need it, but better to have and not need than to need and not have."
Constantine feels strangely compelled to share a story of his own as they walk towards Roger's abode.
"If you've not been much for inland and upland, then I wonder whether you've had occasion to visit out neighbors in the Kalistocracy of Druma." The man looks for recognition in the other's eyes for a moment before continuing on. "They make Abadar look like Cayden Cailean, for my money. Strange fellows. I doubt you'd like them. Their entire order is bent on the accumulation of wealth at the expense of all other pleasures in life. Regardless, last year I was...in need of funds. I was traveling around looking for odd jobs when I happened upon a tavern where a Drumish farmer--a good man, not one of those Kalistocrats--was worried about the slaughter of some of his animals. I responded to that notice, much like this one, and connected with a likeminded group of mercenaries. We did eventually find out what was attacking the farmer's alpacas." Constantine stops and shudders. "A chupacabra. Foul, blood-sucking creature with a predilection for farm animals. It killed two of our number before we put it down."
Well that story had taken a turn.
"Sorry, I should have chosen something more light-hearted."
Talon and Emma, however, have used all of this particular 'investigation slot' since they also spent time in Gathering Info. Of course, that also gives them time to RP if they want!Offering to carry the cotton sack, the ranger nods farewell, and then says to Emma, "It is getting late. We've been gone awhile. Mayhaps we should make our way back to find the others?" He allows her to proceed him out the door...unless she gives some clue that she would be offended by this gesture.
Leaving the establishment, Talon snatches out one of the smaller rolls, and then another, offering it to Lady Blackford. He then proceeds to munch contentedly upon his own. "We get first pick. A finder's tax, I call it. Or a Hunter's fee. Yes, I think I like that better."
"Have to make sure they are poisoned and what not..." He grins at the armored paladin, and then asks, "So tell me, Lady Emma. What brings you to our fair haven? Surely not merely the Mayor's call? Her reach can't be that far, eh?
Emma smiles back at Talon. "I also like the sound of the hunter's fee myself. Or in my case, I'm doing a close inspection to make sure I don't detect any evil lurking in the bread!" She takes a moment to take a bite of the fresh bread, savoring the freshness and warmth. "The man may have been an intolerable grump, but he can bake, I'll give him that."
As they walk through the town, Emma nods to passerby - some return the nods in a polite way, others glance at her with uncertainly or distrust. She glances back over to Talon. "Well, Piren's Bluff is a bit of a border town, so a lot of news happens to pass through us on it's way to other, more important locations. So it's not uncommon for us to overhear the news of what's happening elsewhere. I suppose..."
Emma trails off, not really looking at anything in particular. "See, my mother was the one who trained me in the ways of being a Paladin. She was...I really loved her, and she taught me much. I miss having her guidance. But nearly my whole life was spent in Piren's Bluff. I wanted to get out, see a bit of the world. And a lot of the alerts and messages that passed through tended to be for specific people, or for problems that were, frankly, above my skill level. This one was an open call, it was outside of Piren's Bluff, and well...I decided to take the chance. Hopefully I don't muck it up. But I'm also not so far from home that it'll be devastating if I do."
With a sigh, Emma finishes off the piece of bread. "How about you, Mr. Talon? Were you already associated with the Mayor, or was there something else about this case that piqued your interest?"
(Constantine and Roger)
Talking as they go and trading tales, Constantine and Roger make their way through the town to the apothecary's... possibly with a detour to collect Roger's 'piece.'
The shop occupies a nice, choice spot on a busy street, and the outside gleams with brass fixtures and windows of large panes of clear glass, which likely cost a pretty penny. Riots of color and scent fill the flowerboxes before the large windows-- herbs and flowers. A bell jingles merrily as you enter the shop, which smells of a dozen pungent plants.
A blue-haired gnome sticks her head out from between the well-stocked shelves, gives you a nod and a smile, and makes her way to the counter.
"Welcome, welcome... Majara Pricknettle, at your service." She takes in Constantine's muscular build and his rust-red raiment with a glance, gives another shrewd look to Roger and his... parrot... and then smiles professionally. "Potions to protect from punctures - bezoars for the bilious - flasks of fire and alembics of acid - and the ever-popular potion to cure your injuries. You two look like you're here for specialty goods, not housewives' sundries. A dangerous journey? Name what you need; if we don't have it, I may be able to mix it, given time. And coin, of course."
Petrello gapes a bit at Sirio, and seems on the verge of finding his earlier attitude and refusal.... vs his current worries. He hesitates.... and then sits heavily behind the counter, and begins to glumly relate the demise of his marriage, the splitting of his household....
Wincing at Petrello's comment about orphans, Hannelia had tried to skip past it, though it was clearly too much to hope that a man of Sirio's sharpness hadn't heard it. Raising an eyebrow, she shoots him a 'are-you-really-going-to-do-this?' look, before she quickly realises that indeed he is.
This is pretty distasteful, holding the man's feet to the coals like that, she thinks, even if he has been a rude ass. Though could I honestly say that I wouldn't be tempted in Sirio's place? Or if he'd made some clumsy comment about soldiers not coming home intact?
Seeing that the two men look to be settling in for the long haul, Hannelia decides to take her thoughts and herself elsewhere. "Looks like you've got all the details thoroughly covered here, Sirio, I'm going to head to the temple. Either catch me up there or I'll see you at the tavern this evening." She nods her head towards the haberdasher, saying "Mr Pindlion," by way of goodbye.
Exiting the shop she takes a second to check her surroundings before heading back across the city to the temple, giving her time to mull over what she had learned both about their quest and her companion.
[Emma & Talon, making their way to the rendezvous]
Talon continues to chew as the Piren's Bluff native tells her tale, nodding politely. When addressed, he answers, "Well, first of all, it's simply Talon. All that 'Mister' stuff is far too formal for the day-to-day likes of me. I'm not ...ordained...or whatever it is you do to earn your title as a paladin, milady. I'm hard working, but still just a Ranger. You know, a hunter and guide."
"To answer your question, though...no, I don't really know the Mayor at all, other than to wave to her in passing. I don't spend a lot of time in town. I come and I go, mostly for supplies." The half-elf shrugs, "Beyond that, I really can't say that there's a specific detail about this mystery that drew me in. I could say, I suppose, that I felt it was my civic duty to help find the missing young-folk, and all that."
Talon breaks into a grin, "But that'd be a lie...which I've heard is a horrible thing to do around a paladin like yourself. Truth is, I heard there was a problem that might require someone good at tracking, and that there was a reward involved."
A gnome in the town, and so far from Umok? How curious. Constantine gazes around at the tinctures, reagents, and baubles adorning the shop with a likewise-appraising eye before settling on the gnome herself.
He bows his head respectfully. "Well met, Ms. Pricknettle," he begins, "purveyor potions and merchant of miraculous mixtures. Constantine Fioritura, at yours."
After a bit of professional wordplay, and with a brief glance over his shoulder at Roger, he continues. "You have pegged us aright, though I'd prefer no danger meet us. I first have a question, and--depending on your answer--may indeed be interested in purchasing some of your wares. Or I should say, your answer may inform the specificity of an incumbent purchase."
He leans forward, vaguely conspiratorially, looking left and right before continuing. "You see, we're looking for an apprentice of yours: Gellion Vazarro."
(Hannelia)
Hannelia quickly makes her way through the familiar streets of her city to the temple itself. Though a large structure, it's simply built-- the timbers that support the large meeting hall space have been left rough-hewn, and rather than cloth-of-gold or costly mosaics, the decorations are simple-- antlers, farm implements, and the tools of a hunter hang on the walls. There is a large hall for services, and an equally spacious infirmary/dormitory for those who are either ill, or simply need a place to sleep for a night and have nowhere better to go.
The infirmary is where Hannelia finds the priest, Ildris Ruvarra. A solidly-built man in middle age with a trim goatee, Ildris appears to be tending to a patient when Hannelia appears-- mopping the brow of a fevered-looking child, with a poultice of herbs prepared next to him and ready to apply.
The man glances up and offers a somewhat distracted smile. "Welcome; may Deadeye watch your journeys safely, young woman. What may I do for you?"
(Constantine, Roger)
He leans forward, vaguely conspiratorially, looking left and right before continuing. "You see, we're looking for an apprentice of yours: Gellion Vazarro."
What had been a growing, pleased smile on Majara Pricknettle's face at Constantine's smooth words vanishes almost immediately at the name of her apprentice. The gnome turns back to her shelves and resumes stocking them.
"I'm afraid I don't know where he is," she says, somewhat tersely, and then sighs. "It's been five days since he was last at work. He hasn't communicated to me any reason for his absence. It's very inconvenient, and we're behind on half a dozen orders as a result."
"If anyone would know where he is, I'm sure it's the girl he's always hanging about-- Nolaria, she's a ward of the temple. A nice enough child, but with a certain penchant for, how would you say--" Majara pauses, lips pursed a moment, "mischief. Headstrong, curious, impulsive. Practically gnomish, really."
A brief, tight smile, and then Majara resumes stocking shelves. "And what, precisely, is the nature of your interest in my absent apprentice?"
Emma walks along with Talon, laughing slightly at his statement. "Well, I can assure you Mr. - erm, sorry, hard habit to break - Talon, most paladins would only truly mind if it was an evil lie. So, don't even attempt to try and lie about eating the last cookie."
She lets out a sigh, looking at the town around her. "Truth be told, it will be good to have some skilled at tracking I think. There's certainly something going on here. I haven't a clue what the others may have found, but I don't like the sound of whatever it is that's lurking out there."
The wind whistles through the trees as they walk, and with a frown, she looks around them. Talon's earlier words flash through her mind - a ranger, a hunter and a guide. She glances over at Talon again. "Considering you've hunted in this region before, any idea of what could be making that noise out there at night?"
Please don't say giant spiders are common to this area, she thinks silently to herself, suppressing a shudder as best as she can.
Constantine makes some calculations about his error in judgment, but can't seem to find the missing piece. Maybe it's something in the gnome's body language, or a word she didn't say. But he had never been good at reading people. Some might call it naiveté. Others might call it a stark lack of empathy. Constantine didn't care for either explanation. He just didn't have the knack and hadn't tried to train it. But it did make investigation challenging if people were evasive and did not speak plainly.
Thankfully, the gnome does continue revealing useful information without additional prodding. Constantine tries to save face as he continues, making note to find out what, if anything, the others had found at the temple. At the very least, this was another clue to piece together. Further connections between the missing apprentices.
"I did not intend to offend, nor raise a sore spot. I am sure it is difficult to find reliable help, especially when the help in question may be distracted. You may know that Nolaria is missing as well. Roger and I have been tasked with finding them."
It's true, if not the full story. But the Mayor had wanted them to not raise the alarm in town, and so Constantine provides as much information as necessary. He'll be more forthcoming if Majara asks.
He adds, after a few moments, "Is there anything that we may be able to help you with while we look for Gellion and Nolaria? Ingredients nearby that you could use but are unable to step away to gather?"
"Kalistocracy?" Roger's eyes show an emotion that is anything but recognition at the term. But he engages with the story nonetheless. "Alpacas ye say, them's what sheeps but taller, aye? Foul tempered enough I know a sheepie-beasty to be, can say I'd not want to tangle with a beast what preys on bigger ones. Right got chased over more'n a few fences by horned charges as a lad." Roger doesn't seem to mind the tale at all.
When they reach his ramshackle place, it seems the wooden house rocks still on the ocean waves, teetering place that it is. Dusty and ill-traveled, it seems Roger spends scant hours in the place, the bed the only place well made. Digging around and muttering, he eventually produces anything but a subtle blade, a great big piece of slightly curved steel taller than himself. Rubbing off a little grime to make it shine, it seems the blade isn't too worse for wear, and Roger straps it about his back.
~~
"Goal is to make sure they're safe and sound, Miss Majara. So far we figure some kiddos around town might've all head off on some adventure, and those can be right dangerous." Roger manages to say with a straight face despite his own claimed adventure off alone as a child.
Emma walks along with Talon, laughing slightly at his statement. "Well, I can assure you Mr. - erm, sorry, hard habit to break - Talon, most paladins would only truly mind if it was an evil lie. So, don't even attempt to try and lie about eating the last cookie."
She lets out a sigh, looking at the town around her. "Truth be told, it will be good to have some skilled at tracking I think. There's certainly something going on here. I haven't a clue what the others may have found, but I don't like the sound of whatever it is that's lurking out there."
The wind whistles through the trees as they walk, and with a frown, she looks around them. Talon's earlier words flash through her mind - a ranger, a hunter and a guide. She glances over at Talon again. "Considering you've hunted in this region before, any idea of what could be making that noise out there at night?"
Please don't say giant spiders are common to this area, she thinks silently to herself, suppressing a shudder as best as she can.
(Hannelia)
Hannelia quickly makes her way through the familiar streets of her city to the temple itself. Though a large structure, it's simply built-- the timbers that support the large meeting hall space have been left rough-hewn, and rather than cloth-of-gold or costly mosaics, the decorations are simple-- antlers, farm implements, and the tools of a hunter hang on the walls. There is a large hall for services, and an equally spacious infirmary/dormitory for those who are either ill, or simply need a place to sleep for a night and have nowhere better to go.
The infirmary is where Hannelia finds the priest, Ildris Ruvarra. A solidly-built man in middle age with a trim goatee, Ildris appears to be tending to a patient when Hannelia appears-- mopping the brow of a fevered-looking child, with a poultice of herbs prepared next to him and ready to apply.
The man glances up and offers a somewhat distracted smile. "Welcome; may Deadeye watch your journeys safely, young woman. What may I do for you?"
Making her way into the infirmary, Hannelia whispers a quick blessing to Erastil, glad that it's been some time since she's had the need to be here.
"Greetings, Father. Thank you for taking the time to speak to me, I can see you're busy. I was hoping you might be able to tell me about one of your apprentices, one Nolaria Wintren." She gestures to the poultice the priest is holding. "I've no skill as a healer, but if you could use an extra pair of hands I can help while we talk."
The ranger shrugs dramatically, "No. Nothing I've ever encountered.
This whole thing seems the stuff of nightmares."
-------------
@ Pricknettle's
Majara Pricknettle arches her brows wordlessly at the mention that they have been 'tasked.' "Hmm," she says, non-committally, looking at Constantine and then at Roger. "And what have you learned thus far? If anything?"
-------------
@ Temple of Erastil
Hannelia greets the priest warmly and offers her hands with what he's doing; he accepts easily enough. "Well, thank you, just hold it here while I tie it off, that's a dear..."
When he is done checking on the child, Father Ruvarra straightens with a sigh and puts his hands on the small of his back. "Nolaria is more than my apprentice-- she is like a daughter to me, and I won't lie to you, I am concerned. Let us walk as we talk, if you don't mind."
The priest makes his way out a side door and into a herb garden that grows in a small plot behind the temple, where he starts to trim fresh herbs into his handkerchief. "Nolaria lost her parents to the war, like so many in the town; she stayed with relations for a bit, but ultimately, she came to me at the temple, and we manage. She is my apprentice in name, but I'm not sure the priesthood is for her-- I believe she'll follow Erastil in her own way, perhaps rather more adventurously than all of, well, this," he says, gesturing at the plants he's gathering leaves from.
"She doesn't shirk her duties or complain about them, but when they're done, I can't keep her here-- she's off nosing around town-- or out of it, in the forests-- traipsing through the woods, ah, she does love the woods. I taught her woodcraft, and I don't normally worry about her when she goes for a night's stay in the near forests-- she can handle herself against the wild beasts well enough, and she's got too much sense to go wandering off more than a day's journey and risk getting into the goblin-held territories.
"But I'm worried now, as I said. She's been gone several days, and not to the woods-- the things she'd take if she expected to camp are still in her room, her tent and so forth. Something was weighing on her before her disappearance, but I couldn't get her to tell me what-- and she's no little girl, she's old enough to set out on her own if that was what she wants to do.
"I suspect it's to do with her friends-- that loyalty, or fear of getting them in trouble-- is what kept her from opening up to me. I hear that several of them have gone missing. She is quite close with the apothecary boy, Gellion, I believe his name is. Wherever he is, I'm sure you'd find her, too. I know they often used to walk about in the town's graveyard-- both their parents were buried there, though I imagine it was less about funeral respect then simply having a place where they could chat away the hours without having chores to do.
"What else...? Oh, yes, you might also find her if you happen to see her pet raven-- it left with her, and I haven't seen it since. But they say they're wise birds, and perhaps Erastil sent it to her in the first place.
"I don't know if there's anything else I might tell you. I suppose you're after our mayor's reward, then?"
@ Pricknettle's
Majara Pricknettle arches her brows wordlessly at the mention that they have been 'tasked.' "Hmm," she says, non-committally, looking at Constantine and then at Roger. "And what have you learned thus far? If anything?"
"Got a signed note from the kids they were gonna meet up at some 'usual place', and had some sorta big plan." Roger sees no reason not to be straightforward with what they know.
"I know they often used to walk about in the town's graveyard--her parents were buried there, though I imagine it was less about funeral respect...."
********
Majara purses her lips at the mention of this note. "Is that it? A note from one youth to another about a vague plan?" She looks to Constantine as well, as if for confirmation.
@ Temple of ErastilHannelia greets the priest warmly and offers her hands with what he's doing; he accepts easily enough. "Well, thank you, just hold it here while I tie it off, that's a dear..."
When he is done checking on the child, Father Ruvarra straightens with a sigh and puts his hands on the small of his back. "Nolaria is more than my apprentice-- she is like a daughter to me, and I won't lie to you, I am concerned. Let us walk as we talk, if you don't mind."
The priest makes his way out a side door and into a herb garden that grows in a small plot behind the temple, where he starts to trim fresh herbs into his handkerchief. "Nolaria lost her parents to the war, like so many in the town; she stayed with relations for a bit, but ultimately, she came to me at the temple, and we manage. She is my apprentice in name, but I'm not sure the priesthood is for her-- I believe she'll follow Erastil in her own way, perhaps rather more adventurously than all of, well, this," he says, gesturing at the plants he's gathering leaves from.
"She doesn't shirk her duties or complain about them, but when they're done, I can't keep her here-- she's off nosing around town-- or out of it, in the forests-- traipsing through the woods, ah, she does love the woods. I taught her woodcraft, and I don't normally worry about her when she goes for a night's stay in the near forests-- she can handle herself against the wild beasts well enough, and she's got too much sense to go wandering off more than a day's journey and risk getting into the goblin-held territories.
"But I'm worried now, as I said. She's been gone several days, and not to the woods-- the things she'd take if she expected to camp are still in her room, her tent and so forth. Something was weighing on her before her disappearance, but I couldn't get her to tell me what-- and she's no little girl, she's old enough to set out on her own if that was what she wants to do.
"I suspect it's to do with her friends-- that loyalty, or fear of getting them in trouble-- is what kept her from opening up to me. I hear that several of them have gone missing. She is quite close with the apothecary boy, Gellion, I believe his name is. Wherever he is, I'm sure you'd find her, too. I know they often used to walk about in the town's graveyard-- both their parents were buried there, though I imagine it was less about funeral respect then simply having a place where they could chat away the hours without having chores to do.
"What else...? Oh, yes, you might also find her if you happen to see her pet raven-- it left with her, and I haven't seen it since. But they say they're wise birds, and perhaps Erastil sent it to her in the first place.
"I don't know if there's anything else I might tell you. I suppose you're after our mayor's reward, then?"
Pleased, though hardly surprised that the priest was a lot friendlier and more forthcoming than the haberdasher, Hannelia listens intently as he fills her in on Nolaria's history and personality. "Thank you, Father. Slightly different situation, but in truth there's plenty there I can relate to, and to admire. You've clearly raised her to be a smart, capable and intelligent young woman. As such, I share your concern - there's little to suggest normal patterns of behaviour, she's been missing for a while, and it doesn't sound like she's the sort to go quiet without good reason." As Father Ruvarra fills the handkerchief, Hannelia takes it off him and ties it into a neat bundle, allowing him to take up another and start trimming herbs from a new bush.
Seeing no reason not to be straight with the man, she agrees, "Yes, I'm part of a group of us the mayor has gathered. There are people in need - though when are there not? - and this town has seen too much hurt in the recent past. I've some skill in unravelling mysteries so I'm happy to help; the reward, frankly is a bonus."
"Based on what we've learned so far, it sounds increasingly likely that there's a connection between the missing and the chances of a coincidence seem increasingly slim. You've given me a good sense of the girl and some leads as to where she's likely to have been. Can I just check when you last saw her please? Or rather, when was the last time anyone saw her, and who was last to see her if it wasn't yourself?"
She stands up straight and release her hair from its ponytail, shaking it out before regathering it and tying it back again. "And there is one more thing. You seem to be pretty informed about what's going on in this town: have you heard anything concerning giant insects or similar? There have been rumours of such, though as yet we know little that could substantiate them." She frowns, concern in her voice. "It follows logically from there that we don't know if this has any connection to the missing apprentices, but certainly it seems likely that they haven't disappeared of their own volition."
"Every investigation starts somewhere," Constantine says with a shrug. "Knowing that the disappearances are connected, and were at least initially intentional, well help narrow down possibilities."
His red coat squeaks slightly as he turns. "Do youth in the town have particular places they enjoy going?"
"Now see, you're only the second person we've talked to. One clue for one talk don't seem bad me." Roger raises an eyebrow at Majara.
Sirio gave his clinical attention to Petrello Pindlion and his tale of woe, interrupting him only to ask clarifying questions and generally try to give the impression he was noting all of this down for later.
After Petrello was finished, Sirio inhaled a deep breath and said, "Thank you for your time Mr. Pindlion, this has been most informative. I'll be needing to catch up with my colleague, but if you ever need any legal assistance with the aftermath, I can refer you to another colleague of mine who specializes in divorce and family matters. I'd be happy to render advice for a smaller fee."
Or if you'd like I can take a confession as a Priest. You've unburdened a lot today, but Asmodeus will be able to grant you strength in this time of trouble, should you decide to open yourself to him." Sirio gave a tight, understanding smile.
After getting out of earshot of the haberdashery he grins to himself. Quepno practically giggled. Or would have if she could. A particularly amused hiss emitted from the little viper. To which Sirio chuckled in reply, "Haha! I almost can't believe he actually thought that would help! You saw the look on his face, I mean... Hells bells that was hysterical. We should do that more often."
Quepno flicked her tongue in mock disapproval and Sirio answered sarcastically grinning, "Oh of course you're right dear, that was rather distasteful wasn't it.
______________________________
Sirio debated disguising his outfit to be something inconspicuous for worshippers of Ol' Deadeye, but against his better judgement he decided to waltz in with his pentacle on full display. He had a bit of a grudge with Ol' Deadeye. The same sort he had with Elidir. It was childish, he knew, but he didn't care at this point. He had already indulged himself, what was one more time?
After passing through the relatively rugged and simple temple, he spotted Hannelia chatting with what one could only assume to be the priest.
"Hannelia, so glad you could continue the investigation without me. I think I've got all we need from Mr. Pindlion by now." Sirio said.
Sirio turned to the priest, "Father," Sirio said, dipping his head in polite greeting, "Sirio Regilianus. I'm something of a priest myself actually. But enough about me." Sirio notes the patient the two of them are caring for and nods, "I'll stay out of your way, too many cooks in the kitchen and all that. But if you've anything for me to do, I do have a hand in healing as well. Apologies for interrupting, carry on."
Sirio debated disguising his outfit to be something inconspicuous for worshippers of Ol' Deadeye, but against his better judgement he decided to waltz in with his pentacle on full display. He had a bit of a grudge with Ol' Deadeye. The same sort he had with Elidir. It was childish, he knew, but he didn't care at this point. He had already indulged himself, what was one more time?
After passing through the relatively rugged and simple temple, he spotted Hannelia chatting with what one could only assume to be the priest.
"Hannelia, so glad you could continue the investigation without me. I think I've got all we need from Mr. Pindlion by now." Sirio said.
Sirio turned to the priest, "Father," Sirio said, dipping his head in polite greeting, "Sirio Regilianus. I'm something of a priest myself actually. But enough about me." Sirio notes the patient the two of them are caring for and nods, "I'll stay out of your way, too many cooks in the kitchen and all that. But if you've anything for me to do, I do have a hand in healing as well. Apologies for interrupting, carry on."[/b]
Hannelia glances up, her hands still busy, as she hears Sirio enter the room. "Hello Sirio, glad that you've got what you needed. Yes, Father Ruvarra has been extremely helpful, I'll fill you in when we've finished up here - I think we're nearly done." Unwilling to answer for the priest at Sirio's offer of help, she looks at the bearded man to pick up the conversation.
Hannelia, Sirio - Temple of Erastil
The priest settles into a good rhythm with Hannelia, letting her tie off the kerchiefs of herbs as he trims. "I last saw Nolaria four days ago, she said she was going to go run some errands. I wish I'd asked what, but hindsight is always the clearest, isn't it? If anyone else has seen her, since then, they haven't let me know."
When Sirio joins them, the priest's face grows rather grave, his expression indicating he is very aware of what the Asmodean symbols mean. But his nod of answer to Sirio is civil, if restrained.
"Thank you for your offer, but I believe I have what's needful in that regard.
"As for the insects--- yes, I've heard rumors and mutters. It is difficult, sometimes, to thresh truth from paranoia, when gossip begins in this town. Some of my congregation say they've seen giant fireflies glowing in the night- others are sure that what they saw was the glowing, hanged bodies of the Sarinis. One person says they hear a noise like the buzz of insect's wings, while another swears the sound keeping them up at night is the distant keening of orcish battle horns, like they heard in the war.
"I have no proof of any of those rumors, yet. No two stories are quite the same. I'm sorry I can't be more help on that front."
Roger, Constantine - Pricknettle's
"Now see, you're only the second person we've talked to. One clue for one talk don't seem bad me." Roger raises an eyebrow at Majara.
The gnome pinches briefly at the bridge of her nose and sighs. "No, no, it's perfectly respectable, don't mind me. Hmn. Places they hang out? There's that tavern run by a half-orc woman, it attracts many of the same clientele my own business does-- people courting a bit of danger-- and Gellion was-- is, I should say-- fond of it, I believe, and of hearing all the stories and derring-do that people get up to," Majara says, unaware that Constantine and Roger have just come from there.
"Hmm, fair, fair, tis definitely the place for tales." Roger strokes his beard trying to call back on his memory. Alas, it is a futile endeavor. "Con, you got anything else to ask?" Roger turns to his companion with ever shortening appellations.
[dice=Knowledge:Geography]1d20 + 3
The ranger shrugs dramatically, "No. Nothing I've ever encountered.
This whole thing seems the stuff of nightmares."
This time, Emma isn't quite able to suppress her shudder. "Well. Hopefully there's no actual giant bugs and it's just the result of people gossiping." Emma pauses for a moment. "I suppose it wouldn't be out of the question for something to be intentionally making people think it's one thing when it's meant to be covering up for something else. But regardless, we'll need to touch bases with the others and figure out if there's a pattern to these disappearances." Emma shrugs at Talon. "We never really had mass disappearances occur in Piren's Bluff. One time our shopkeep disappeared, but it turned out he'd drank too much and gotten turned around in the woods. I don't like the sound of this situation so far though. The quicker we find answers, the better it will be I think. I'm hoping this is just a misunderstanding, but well..." She leaves the sentence unfinished.
What is it with Roger and nicknames? Constantine suppresses a lip twitch (barely) and nods.
"Yes, we found this note at the Witch's End. So perhaps he is daring to do his own derring-do."
He looks around at the gnome's shelves, wishing he had something more to ask. But the gnome seems ignorant at best and evasive at worst. Constantine just can't get a read on her. Gnomes had always been unreadable to him. Fascinating folk.
"Well we shall continue to look for Gellion and the other youths. I imagine we'll uncover a use for one or more of your poultices before long. Informed shopping, of course."
He takes a few steps towards the door and shrugs, looking at Roger.
"We shall continue to look. If you can think of anything, please leave us a note at said tavern. And thank you, Ms. Pricknettle."